 
## THE FORTRESS OF GOLD

_______________________________________

### BALLARD TRILOGY : 2

### STEPHEN L. NOWLAND

### Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015-2019 Stephen Louis Nowland

Edited by Lesley Wheeler

Map Illustration by Cornelia Yoder

http://www.corneliayoder.com

The Author asserts the moral right to be

identified as the author of this work.

Table of Contents

World Map

Local Map

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

Paperwork, like the turning of the world, was endless. The officer sat at a mahogany desk, his attention firmly focused on reducing the towering pile of documents before him to a manageable level. There was little else to distract him within the confines of his new office, for the rest of his boxed possessions had yet to arrive.

Despite having received his promotion just the previous day, these documents had been awaiting his arrival, showing a speed and efficiency the bureaucracy rarely demonstrated. The officer paused for a moment as the sound of trainees discharging firearms echoed around the stone walls of the fortress before returning to work. The summer air drifting through the window was warm and dry, yet the confines of his office remained cool. That was the thing with stone construction – bearable in summer, absolutely freezing in winter.

He was in two minds about the new weapons his military was busily arming itself with. They were powerful, easy for inexperienced men to train with and represented a chance to take the initiative in their long-running war with their neighbours.

On the other hand, they were also bloody loud.

"Not exactly what you envisioned when you started this whole thing," the officer muttered to the room's sole decoration, a portrait of a barrel-chested man in a crisp black uniform hanging on the wall. He was laden with shining medals and his bristling grey mutton-chops harkened back to a hairstyle of male fashion not seen in decades.

His grey eyes stared out over the viewer's shoulder, as if boldly looking to a future only he could see. The caption at the base of the picture read 'First Grand Duke Gerhard Kurnst, founder of Kurhain'. He was noted in history texts as a titan of a man, a legend of his time and a renowned facial hair enthusiast. That last part wasn't written in any book, though it was surely on the mind of whomever painted his portrait.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the officer's train of thought. "Enter," he ordered, turning to see who had arrived. Two young men of minor rank, wearing ill-fitting uniforms stained with sweat awkwardly sidled into the room while carrying a huge wooden chest between them. The poor fellows seemed torn between keeping both hands on the chest, or saluting and risking a serious injury in the process.

"Over there, if you please gentlemen," the officer instructed, nodding towards a space beneath the room's only window. Too out of breath to reply, they shuffled over to the designated location and eased the expensive chest onto the stone floor before raising their hands to their foreheads in a belated salute. It was addressed to Major Maximilian Strauss and for a brief moment, the officer didn't recognise the rank as his own. He was still becoming accustomed to the new title.

Maximilian returned their salute then walked over to unlock and open it wide. Inside were most of his worldly possessions, the only things he placed any real value on. Perched on top of everything else was a portrait, carefully wrapped in fabric. Max took it out and unwrapped it, gazing with a sense of loss at the picture of a lovely young lady with dark hair and blue eyes. He turned and placed it on his desk, where she could watch over him as he worked. The caption simply read 'Gunhilde'.

"Will that be all sir?" one of the soldiers inquired politely, snapping Max out of his reverie. He took one last look at the contents of the chest and a slight crease furrowed his brow.

"There should be one last item," he pointed out. "It was long, heavily wrapped, and bore instructions for whoever dropped it to be executed on the spot."

"Ah," the soldier replied, moisture visible on his upper lip. "Almost forgot about that one."

"I'm sure," Max nodded sagely. "Fetch it immediately and your task is complete." Before the soldiers could reply, there was a sudden noise from the other side of the room, a sort of 'thud' that made their ears pop. Turning to see what had caused it, Max was surprised to see King Osric Davignon, a recently acquired ally, leaning heavily against the wall while clutching at his leg, from which blood steadily dripped.

Osric's fair features were beaded with sweat, and his fine black clothing was dirty. His blond hair, normally combed was instead a mess, as if he'd been caught in a strong gale and neglected to neaten himself up afterwards.

"King Osric, you seem out of sorts," Max remarked dryly.

"Get me some help," Osric snapped as he collapsed to the floor in obvious pain. Max nodded to one of the enlisted men, who saluted yet again as he raced out the door to fetch a healer. The major grabbed his chair and hauled it over to Osric, then sat in it himself before the former king could make a move for it.

"What happened?" Max asked patiently.

"The plan went awry," Osric responded through gritted teeth.

"They do that. You need to plan for plans falling through. Tell me, where is Captain Jansen and his men?"

"They died for the cause," the former king grunted. Maximilian's levity faded instantly at the news. "The dragons received outside help from men and women who tracked down my hideaway. They crept inside and seized the eggs. Jansen and three of his men died fighting them, I think the others ran off – cowards."

"I object to you phrasing my men as 'cowards', sir," Max spoke in cold disdain. "They did not have the benefit of your unique abilities, yet they followed you to confront not one but two dragons relying on nothing but their wits and training. I will in fact, be awarding them medals of bravery posthumously." The major scrutinised Osric closely and a thought occurred to him. "Speaking of such, how did you come to be wounded? I thought nothing could harm you, yet here you are, bleeding all over my floor."

"I underestimated one of my opponents," Osric answered in a voice filled with pain and perhaps a dash of madness. "I won't make that mistake again."

The healer, a local priest of advancing years who was on good terms with whatever powers answered his prayers, arrived at last and tended to Osric's wounded leg. Maximilian noted that the wound appeared to have been made by a stabbing weapon, a minor detail he filed away for later contemplation.

"Regardless," Max finally continued, "I ask that in future, you... teleport to some other room in the fortress. How did you even know I would be here? I moved in only yesterday."

"The magic works when I picture something specific in my mind," Osric explained as he winced at the ministrations of the priest. "I seem to be able to recall the portrait of your lovely daughter quite clearly, and so I was whisked to within a few yards of it. Such a terrible loss for you, Major. She was quite beautiful."

"Her life and death are none of your concern, and I request that you conduct your strange magicks elsewhere in future," Max responded through gritted teeth.

"You forget yourself, sir," Osric bristled, rising to his feet over the priest's objections. "I may carry no title at present, but I answer only to Grand Duke Lothar. Speak to me like that again and I shall take your head off."

Maximilian wasn't intimidated by the threat, but he respected the chain of command. The Grand Duke had invested a lot of authority into this man and Max wasn't about to betray his orders, try as he might to push their limits.

"Forgive me, Majesty," he replied, mustering as much conviction as he could. "I meant no disrespect."

"You are forgiven, Major," Osric purred with a slight nod. He flexed his leg with a measure of satisfaction, thanked the priest and hobbled towards the door. Before he walked through, he leaned back and gestured for Max to follow.

"Come along, Major. We have a meeting with the Grand Duke and I need your counsel."

Max nodded and moved to follow, casting a longing glance back at the pile of paperwork with renewed appreciation for the less exciting aspects of command.

1

Conviction

High on a mountainside in the south-eastern frontier of the Kingdom of Aielund, nestled between cracks in the hard, unyielding ground grew a tiny plant, fighting against all odds to survive in a harsh, unforgiving environment. Its continuous struggle for life made it strong and hardy, but it was no match for the girl in the amber dress who plucked it from the earth and examined it with her dark brown eyes.

The very properties that allowed this small herb to thrive here made it a desirable addition to any herbal concoction, which as it turned out, was the fate Aislin Ballard had in store for it.

The ceaseless wind whipped her long auburn hair about as she dropped the small plant into a bag along with many others she had collected. Aislin paused for a moment to catch her breath and take in the astonishing view afforded by the altitude. Behind her, verdant lands stretched beyond the horizon to the north, slowly diminishing as she and her companions travelled a little further from home every day. It was the land to their south that captivated young Aislin's imagination, however.

Less than a day's journey ahead, the mountains abruptly tapered down to meet with a vast plain of red - the sands of the Hocarum Desert - an uninhabited region of dry earth that formed a natural border between Aielund and the southern realms. The excitement Aislin felt at visiting a place she'd never been before was tempered by the potential dangers involved in navigating such an inhospitable land. Fortunately, she was not alone.

With her small bag full of herbs and roots harvested during the day's journey, Aislin caught up with Jaz Katan, searching for more treasures in the earth a few dozen yards away.

"A full bag," Aislin said as she handed it over. "It's getting hard to find plants around here so that might be the last of it."

"Oh, that'll do just fine," Jaz exclaimed at the unexpected bounty, the dark skin of her impish face creased with a brilliant white smile. Her shock of dark, curly hair was held back by a headband and a spark of excitement danced in her large eyes as she peered into the bag. Picking a random herb from the collection, she scrutinised it with expert eyes.

"A little scrawny, aren't they," Jaz remarked despondently. "I'll take what I can get, though. I doubt we'll find much once we're walking through that," she added, nodding at the expanse of dry, flat earth dominating their view. Without waiting for a reply, Jaz carefully sat on a flat rock and took out a mortar and pestle from her satchel, then began grinding up the various herbs with vigorous strokes.

Although less than two years older than Aislin, Jaz was well-educated and something of a prodigy in her homeland, the Free States of Lyden. She had a profound grasp of herbal medicine, but seemed able to add a little bit of magic to the final mix, giving it a kick no other remedy could match. Combined with her skills with magical artifice, she was probably the smartest and most talented person Aislin had ever met, and she smiled slightly at the thought that they were becoming fast friends.

Strapped to the top of Jaz's pack was, in appearance at least, a rusty metal helm with glistening red rubies for eyes. This was actually the head of a metal golem, a magical construct able to move and act on its master's command. Jaz had liberated it from the deep tunnels beneath the mountains, where it had languished for centuries unknown. Barely able to move, the head did seem to take some interest in its surroundings from time to time, although Aislin would prefer it didn't swivel about quite so much – the staring red eyes were just downright creepy.

Once the mixture was ready, Jaz poured it into a jar, added some water and shook it very hard, smacking the lid with one hand while whispering some kind of arcane chant when it was done.

"Come, let's go visit the patients," Jaz suggested with a wink. The two girls hurried to catch up with the other three members of their group, who were moving through the rough landscape at a leisurely pace. All three had been grievously wounded in a recent battle and Jaz was doting over them like a mother hen, making sure they all healed up good and proper.

Their first stop was Gordon MacTavish, a stout member of the dwarvish people. In spite of being decades older than Aislin, he was roughly the same height and would grow no taller. His long, plaited beard was dark brown tinged with grey and his dirty longcoat concealed a number of small firearms, procured from their foes during their recent battle.

Aislin had known Gordon for a few years, as he liked to stop by the inn that was her home whenever his travels brought him into the area. An engineer by trade, Gordon had also saved Aislin's life when the town of Bracksford had come under attack.

Strong for his size, Gordon also carried a longarm under his pack and another slung over his shoulder, as if he couldn't bear to leave any of the seized weapons behind. His demeanour had been sullen and introspective since encountering soldiers from the nation of Kurhain, armed with weapons he himself had invented. The mystery of how they had acquired his designs had plagued him for days, but his expression softened when Jaz cheerfully asked him to open his coat so she could apply healing salve to his injuries.

"Yer a treasure, lass," he chuckled, wincing only slightly as she spread the pungent stuff on the side of his chest.

"I think one more application should clear that right up," Jaz remarked. "Luckily for you, we've found more ingredients."

"Bah, I'd heal up in time anyway," Gordon grunted as she touched a tender spot.

"All done," Jaz finally declared. "Try not to get beaten up quite so badly next time." Gordon seemed about to protest at her choice of words, then thought better of it. He raised an eyebrow at Aislin briefly, and she could only grin in reply at Jaz's 'bedside manners'.

Leading the troupe was a man who could be described as a walking mountain. Carthack Valdis was around eight feet tall and half as wide, his massive frame a legacy of the escardi people. The word meant 'survivors', and he claimed they came from another world, though he lacked the skill with the Aielish language to properly articulate this bizarre concept.

Jaz tugged at his tattered longcoat to gain his attention, then held up the jar of salve with her customary smile to indicate it was his turn. Amber eyes looked down at her from beneath his hood and, although stoic in demeanour, Carthack always had a smile for the two girls.

His tunic had been cut up quite badly during his recent fight with Osric, and although they had recovered clothes and equipment from the enemy camp, his sheer size rendered most of the seized clothing inadequate. So, Jaz and Aislin had taken needle and thread and stitched Carthack's tunic back together using cloth from other garments. The result would never win a prize at a town sewing festival, but it did the job and Carthack had the good grace to express his gratitude for their work.

Carthack surveyed the landscape ahead as Jaz gingerly applied salve to his arms and stomach, wincing slightly at the red welts still visible on his olive skin. His understanding of the natural world was remarkable, and he used this knowledge to guide them safely along their journey. Although he refused to speak of it, Aislin wondered what sort of life he and his people had lived before arriving in Aielund. Certainly, he didn't feel the need to carry a weapon, aside from the one sleeping in his backpack.

"Come on out Keg, it's your turn," Jaz called to Carthack's passenger, lifting the top of his pack to reveal a ginger tomcat taking up much of the internal space. Far too comfortable to bother with things like 'walking' or 'staying awake', Keg rarely emerged during the day, content to doze as Carthack hauled him along.

"You're a monster of a cat, you know that?" Aislin remarked, giving him a fond pat while Jaz dabbed some salve over the scar on his face and ear, wounds he'd gained when he bravely attacked Captain Jansen, the soldier who had threatened to shoot one of the dragon's eggs they'd eventually saved. A glint of purple shone from the collar around Keg's neck. It was a magical gem Jaz had used to increase his intelligence far beyond that of an ordinary house cat, something their foes had underestimated so far.

"Was he always this big?" Jaz asked as Keg recoiled from the smell of the thick salve on his face.

"No, he was the cutest little thing when we found him hiding in an old beer keg in the stables a few years ago," Aislin recalled fondly.

"So that's where the name came from," Jaz remarked as she worked.

"Dad tried to shoo him away with the broom, but the little terror just held onto it and tore it apart. "I said he'd be good at keeping mice out of the larder, so we put food out for him to make him feel at home and soon, he was friendly enough that I could pat him without getting all scratched. Keg was the terror of mice around the inn almost straight away, as well as the other cats in town, all of the dogs and when he grew a bit bigger, a black bear."

"There you go," Jaz said to Keg as she finished treating his wound. "Don't go licking that off your face or I'll be back to put more on." Keg mewed in apparent understanding of her words, one of the benefits of the magical gem around his neck, then Aislin closed the pack and sent the very patient Carthack on his way.

"I suppose I'm next to be subjected to your ministrations," Madelyn Fairchild remarked dryly from nearby, having watched with mild disdain as the two girls went about their task. Her first name was actually 'Angelica', but she despised it so much that she greatly preferred to go by her middle name.

She was quite beautiful, in a cold sort of way. Hailing from a wealthy family, her skin was fair, highlighting her fine, almost regal features. Her hair was long, lustrous and dark, and her eyes a piercing bright blue. A rapier swung from her hip and her riding pants and blue leather jacket were, like Carthack's clothing, mostly patched together since the vicious fight with Osric.

"My salve saved your life not so long ago," Jaz pointed out a little defensively.

"Yes, and though grateful, I swear the odour of that concoction lingers still. I feel well enough that I don't believe I need another treatment, if it's all the same to you."

"That's okay, I'm sure you'll be fine," Aislin responded cheerfully. "You can hardly see that scar on your face." Madelyn's smug attitude faded and she unconsciously brushed her cheek with one hand.

"Hand it over, I'll do it myself," she muttered, while the two girls managed to keep straight faces until Madelyn turned away to quickly apply the salve.

Their journey down the mountainside continued for a few more hours, and as the sun touched the horizon Carthack called a halt for the day and began setting up their camp. He chose a location beneath the shadow of several large rocks, but otherwise, there were no trees or cover against the impending fall of night. Keg emerged from his mobile bed and dropped to the ground, stretching and yawning after a hard day's rest.

"We left Aielund today," the big escardi rumbled as he set up a campfire with wood they'd taken from the Kurhanir encampment. "Great desert ahead, will be rough going. Hot days, cold nights. Little water or food."

"I can already feel the air getting warmer," Aislin remarked.

"Tell me again why we're going this way?" Madelyn asked pointedly as she eased her weary body onto her bedroll.

"It's a straight run down to the homeland of me kin," Gordon answered, unrolling a map he retrieved from his pack and laying it out on the ground. "Be a dear lass, and light this up for us?"

"Certainly," Jaz murmured, invoking one of the magic rings on her hand which produced a steady white light. Aislin ambled over to look, though she was very tired from the day's journey and discovered her eyelids were already drooping.

"We're about here," Gordon explained, poking a stubby finger at a location on the map denoting mountains. "In a straight line to the south-west lies the mountain fortress o' Aurumgaard, where we can find out more about what's goin' on in the south."

"Are you planning to scale 'Hellfire Peak' along the way?" Madelyn pointed out, tracing a finger along the route and discovering a mountain with a rather ominous name blocking their way."

"Well, obviously not," Gordon grumbled. "We'll have t'go 'round it, either east or west."

"It would be best to skirt this entire region, so I propose we go west," Madelyn surmised. "We can still reach the Trinity Highway and continue along it to Aurumgaard, just like all civilised travellers."

"That'll take us an extra three days," Gordon responded with a shake of his head. "We've got limited supplies and we'll be cutting it fine as it is just going straight there. We can go 'round the eastern edge o' Hellfire peak and be in Aurumgaard before we run out of rations."

"I've heard it said this region is especially dangerous," Jaz interjected, staring at the map with trepidation.

"Aye, it can be, but me fear is, whoever made these firearms has a lot more on the way," Gordon grimly explained. "These people from Kurhain made a deal with Osric, and if'n we want to take another shot at him, that's our ultimate destination. If nothin' else, I want to warn me kin o' what might be comin' their way. Besides, all that extra walkin' doesn't do me legs much good, and I'm mindful o' the wee youngin's having to keep up too."

"Don't mind us, we'll be okay," Aislin protested without enthusiasm.

"Ace, ye can barely keep yer eyes open," Gordon remarked with a rueful grin, a claim she couldn't deny.

"I just need to get some more sleep," Aislin whispered, stifling a yawn.

"We could all use more rest," Gordon agreed. "I'll get crackin' on dinner and then ye can turn in." With the small fire growing by the minute, he pulled out some of their supplies and cooked up a fine meal of sausages, potatoes and tomatoes.

"I suppose that's the last of the vegetables," Madelyn sighed, poking at the sausage on her plate.

"Enjoy it while ye can," Gordon grunted, too interested in his meal than sparring with the fallen noblewoman. Aislin followed his lead, eating her meal before reclining back on her bedroll for the night. Nearby, Jaz was whispering to Conrad's metal head as she positioned it to look out over the camp, as if to keep guard. What a disembodied head could do even if something threatened the camp was beyond Aislin.

She leaned back and stared at the stars above, glistening in clear skies, and the last thing she saw before drifting off was Keg sitting on a nearby rock, his tail lashing about as he too kept watch over the camp.

The sun was well and truly up by the time Aislin woke, having slept so heavily she couldn't remember what she'd been dreaming about. Groggy and unkempt, Aislin sat up and glanced around, noting everyone else appeared to have been awake for a while.

"About time," Jaz remarked. "We thought you were going to sleep the morning away."

"I still might," Aislin slurred, taking a sip from her water skin and squinting at the clear, bright day.

"Mornin' Ace," Gordon muttered, his focus firmly on the pair of small firearms on the ground before him. He seemed to be taking precise measurements of each and scribbling notes onto a piece of paper.

"Well, I'm ready to go," Madelyn suggested, sitting cross-legged on a nearby rock. "At least Aislin has an excuse for being late – you, Master Dwarf, have been fidgeting with those bloody weapons for an hour."

"I've got time, Ace still needs to eat somethin'," Gordon protested.

"Just give me ten minutes, I can eat on the go," Aislin responded, willing her tired young body to get started.

"See? No excuses," Madelyn said primly. "I don't understand your fascination with those things anyway. You've already established they're similar to your own designs."

"They're not just similar, they're exactly the same," Gordon pointed out without taking his eyes from his work. "This isn't just some kinda co-incidence – someone stole me original plans! See here, look at me own sidearm and any one o' those taken from the Kurhanir. The numbers come up precisely the same. The quality o' craftsmanship is remarkable, to be able to duplicate me designs so reliably. They've got some method o' ensuring similar quality fer each weapon they produce. They could be making dozens o' them a month. I just wish I knew how they got their hands on me designs."

"That is disturbing, especially if we encounter more of those soldiers armed with such weapons."

"Very likely," Carthack rumbled, sitting on the ground with a dozing Keg in his lap. The two of them had a rocky start together recently, but it seemed they'd overcome their initial animosity. "Six men on mountain, well provisioned beyond what they could carry. They had support."

"Oh that's just marvellous," Madelyn groaned. "There could be dozens more of them around here some place. I really wish I still had my bow, or any bow for that matter. I'm not fussy." Jaz seemed about to make a comment about Madelyn's level of fussiness but Aislin quickly shook her head, indicating Jaz should hold her tongue.

"I've plenty o' powder and sidearms," Gordon hinted.

"You want me to use one of those things?" Madelyn hedged, nodding with distaste at the assorted weapons Gordon carried.

"Aye, plenty o' power," he explained, putting away his tools. "It'll punch through iron armour at close range, and ye've seen what they can do to people what don't get out o' the way."

"But they're so loud," Madelyn complained after a moment's consideration. "I've seen you shooting at targets not all that far away without success, so don't try and tell me they're accurate, and how long does it take you to reload that damned thing anyway? No, I'll stick with bows, thank you."

"Sorry, we're all out o' those," Gordon grunted a little defensively. "Look, they're easy to learn and yeah, sure they're not perfect, I'm just sayin' you can use one fer now, til we get to Aurumgaard and you can probably find yerself a pretty little bow there."

The discussion continued while Aislin made ready for another day's travel, and when she returned she was surprised to see Madelyn holding a sidearm in one hand as if it were about to come to life and bite her.

"Heavy little thing," she complained, then sighed. "Fine, show me how it works."

"With pleasure," Gordon answered, and suddenly Aislin found she had rushed around getting ready for nothing. Content with sitting down to eat breakfast like a normal person, she tore into some bread and cheese while Madelyn practiced loading the weapon and aiming along its length.

"Would anyone mind terribly much if I took a shot?" she inquired, to the assorted groans of the others. "Well I can't very well go into a fight not knowing what it feels like to shoot this contraption, can I?"

"Go over there, make noise," Carthack rumbled, gesturing to a random place further away from the rest of them. Madelyn shrugged and did as he suggested, moving roughly fifty yards away before taking her first shot with the sidearm. The distance did little to dull the racket and Keg, who had recently experienced such a noise at point-blank range, bolted behind a rock.

"I'll never get used to that," Madelyn muttered upon her return, touching her ear painfully with one hand. Nevertheless, she tucked the sidearm into her belt and declared herself ready to go. The others gathered their things and after Carthack kicked some dirt over the camp fire, they collected Keg and followed the big man along the final leg down the side of the mountain.

Within the hour they were walking on soft, sand-like dirt that felt very strange to walk on. The view ahead was nothing but flat red ground as far as the eye could see, and hot winds gusted across the desolate landscape. Aislin couldn't help but gaze with longing at the relatively inviting incline of the mountains, the last tangible vestige of her homeland she was likely to see for some time.

Memories of her life at Bracksford flooded her mind – her father's easy-going smile as he worked behind the bar of the inn, the bustle of the main street as people went about their business and the aroma of Vicki's cooking lingering in the air. Though it was an idyllic start to her life, her time at the inn was marred by conflict on three separate occasions, and the loss of her older brothers in the war pained her to this day.

"It's not too late, you know," Madelyn suggested, having spotted Aislin's lingering stare at the path behind them. "You can still go home, if you really want to. Leave Sliver with me and I give you my word, Osric will be brought to account for his crimes."

Aislin absently touched the hilt of her weapon, the shining dagger named Sliver, sheathed in its leather case on her hip. It was more precious to her than the others realised, and she wasn't even sure if she could give it up if she wanted to. Far more than merely a weapon, it was the source of her courage and a reminder of the valiant man who'd given it to her.

They'd come to a stop without Aislin realising it and everyone was looking at her, awaiting her response. She unsheathed the dagger and held it aloft, marvelling at its perfect shine and deadly curve.

"The man who gave this to me died fighting at the end of the war, a real hero. As much as I miss my home, going back and pretending that everything is back to normal isn't going to stop Osric from trying again. I can't go home and risk watching everyone I care about go through that. I won't feel safe until Osric has been defeated once and for all. If Lord Aiden were still alive, he'd be doing everything he could to track him down and I won't disrespect Aiden's memory by giving up now. We beat Osric once, we can do it again."

"Yer young to be carryin' such responsibility on yer shoulders, lass," Gordon remarked softly, standing by her side with a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We won't stop you, but I wouldn't blame ye for wanting to hand this off to grown-ups either."

"I wouldn't think of trying this alone," Aislin pointed out with a grateful smile, "but with all of us working together, I know we can deal with whatever comes."

"You're more confident than I am, I'll give you that," Madelyn responded caustically. "Let's keep going, shall we?" With an exchange of reassuring glances, they strode out onto the dry plains with renewed purpose, and it wasn't long before Aislin noticed Madelyn had sauntered over to walk alongside her.

"You're nearly thirteen, right?" she inquired.

"In a few weeks, yes," Aislin responded cautiously.

"I'm wondering, with everything that's happened lately, did your father ever have 'the talk' with you?"

"The what?" Aislin blurted.

"I thought as much. A good thing I asked."

"What on earth are you doin'?" Gordon exclaimed from nearby.

"Being responsible," Madelyn answered primly. "Her family isn't here to talk about this sort of thing and I can't think of anything less acceptable than one of you trying to talk about women's issues, so it falls to me to educate her on the ways of the world."

"So yer just gonna appoint yerself in charge o' this?"

"An impressionable young lady from the country could well be taken advantage of, sir. Forewarned is forearmed, as the saying goes."

"Ain't nothing out here but sand," Gordon remarked with a wide gesture.

"And this city we travel to, is it too populated by nothing but sand?" Madelyn pointed out, receiving an exasperated look from the dwarf. "This knowledge will serve her well in all future dealings with men."

"I think I'll just move ahead so I don't have to listen," Gordon muttered, hurrying to catch up to Carthack at the head of the group. Jaz stared with wide-eyed amusement then, at a gesture from Gordon, hurried to catch up with him.

"Don't I have a say in this?" Aislin asked in a small voice, wanting to go with her.

"You'll thank me, one day," Madelyn assured her, ignoring the sight of Aislin trying to wish herself to magically be someplace else at that moment. "Now, where to begin... Ah, at the beginning of course! So, Aislin, when a man and a woman love each other very much..."

2

Max

Steady rain drummed against the window overlooking the training yard, deserted since the weather took a turn for the worse early in the morning. Major Maximilian Strauss stood there waiting, peering at his faint reflection in the glass. Blue-grey eyes stared back at him from a chiselled face, eyes that had seen little else but warfare for his entire adult life and he knew, deep inside, he'd lost a part of himself along the way.

Max's hair was short, dark and neatly combed, and he kept his chin clean-shaven, more for the reassuring morning ritual than for the appearance. He encouraged such discipline in the men under his command, but had some powerful competition from the upper ranks. The Grand Duke of Kurhain, known as a trend-setter amongst the ruling elite, had recently taken a liking to elaborate moustaches and every week Max saw this curious fashion spread further amongst the enlisted troops.

Never one for prolonged introspection, Max dismissed such minor concerns and mentally ran through the numbers for an upcoming deployment, making sure his math was correct when his brief reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Enter," he barked expectantly, his mood slowly turning as foul as the conditions outside. The rather plain door opened and revealed a tall man wearing the uniform of an officer. He stepped inside and snapped a crisp salute, his posture so upright Max feared he might snap in two.

"Lieutenant Yuri Vetrov reporting for duty," the officer announced in a slightly accented voice. Max appraised the newcomer even as he casually returned the salute. Yuri was young, perhaps no more than twenty-two years of age, fair, with neat brown hair and a jaw bearing the shadow of a thick beard struggling to break through.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Major Strauss," Yuri continued, handing over a sheaf of papers, which Max took, glanced at briefly and tossed onto his desk for later perusal. Behind the lieutenant two other men appeared, shuffling through the hallway beyond while carrying something heavy between them.

"Step aside," Max instructed Yuri, who allowed the two soldiers to enter the office with a large wooden crate, which they awkwardly set down on Max's desk with a solid 'thump'.

"That will be all, gentlemen," he said as way of thanks to the men, who saluted and withdrew from the office, closing the door behind them. Max gently swept his hand across the top of the crate, checking to make sure it had arrived intact. For a long moment, only the incessant drumbeat of rain interrupted the silence in the room, until Lieutenant Vetrov felt the need to break the spell.

"You seem to have settled in well, Major," he remarked, strolling about the office approvingly, though whether or not his praise was genuine, Max was unable to determine. "Is this your daughter?" Yuri asked, pausing to examine the portrait of Gunhilde on his desk.

"Yes," Max answered in a flat voice, "she passed away two years ago."

"She was very beautiful, sir, I'm sorry for your loss," Yuri said quietly. "Your wife must have been equally devastated."

"We're no longer together," Max added in a gruff voice, for the absence of the two most important women in his life was still gnawing at him inside. He had no intention of sharing his innermost thoughts with a stranger, not to mention one of his subordinate officers, so he buried his feelings and refocused his attention on the crate still waiting to be opened on the desk before them.

"Make yourself useful and take the other end of this," Maximilian ordered gruffly, prizing the end of the crate's lid with a large dagger. Yuri hurried to comply and between the two of them they managed to remove it and set the wooden lid on the floor. Inside lay shredded paper which, when removed, revealed a long, tapered piece of off-white bone held in place with wooden supports.

"What is it?" Yuri asked curiously as Max carefully removed the object and held it up for closer inspection.

"The tooth of a dragon," he explained simply, satisfied the sharp, metre-long fang was in the same condition it had been when packed. Max turned and carefully placed it in the wall bracket he had prepared especially for this particular item.

"Where did you acquire such a prize?" Yuri asked incredulously, staring at the new dominant feature of the office.

"My grandfather commanded a regiment during the early days of the invasion," the major answered. "They'd routed the defenders along the coastline and were securing their position when the beast descended upon them. Fully half of his command perished under its claws, or were incinerated where they stood before they finally slew the dragon. If you look closely, you can see their bloodstains still visible on the tooth's enamel."

"Yes, I've heard the story before," Yuri remarked, "though I didn't realise this was from that same monster."

"He kept this piece as a trophy. Grandfather liked trophies," Max added in a quiet voice, missing the old man who had made such an impact on his life. "I've often wondered if I'd have had the courage to stand before such a monster as he did. I keep this on display to remind me that even dragons can be defeated."

"Speaking of such, I wish to congratulate you on your promotion," Yuri said with a sudden change of topic. "It is my distinct honour to serve under the hero of Burgstadt."

Max grunted his acknowledgement of the lieutenant's approval, though he'd heard such praise before and found it sounded hollow each time.

"Who assigned you to my command?" Max inquired, somewhat impolitely.

"The entire general staff was involved in my appointment, Major," Yuri answered proudly. "They wanted to be sure you had the best assistant at your disposal. Your task is of the highest importance to the nation and we must do everything to ensure its success."

Max raised an eyebrow at this answer but remained silent, his outside expression revealing nothing of the thoughts churning through his mind. Appointments were always handled by one person, never by committee, and certainly not a committee of generals.

It was quite possible, Max deduced, that Yuri was a spy, though he kept this conclusion to himself. The lieutenant didn't notice anything amiss with Max's lack of response to his enthusiasm, instead withdrawing a small piece of paper from his tunic.

"News from the north, sir," he explained. Max took the note and eagerly read its contents. It was a short message penned in flowing script, but it was of vital importance to the man who was in charge of this whole operation.

"Captain Zarubin's company is heading through the Hocarum Desert and intend to begin probing Tulsone's border defences within three days," Max said aloud, paraphrasing the more descriptive language. "On schedule, as promised."

"Excellent, His Tulsonic Majesty will be pleased to hear this news," Yuri beamed, referring to their new ally, Osric. "And on a more personal note, I want to thank you for assigning one of my kith to this mission. It isn't easy for us to attain such a rank, let alone the trust of the other kith."

"He was more than qualified for the task," Max said, almost shrugging off Yuri's praise once more.

"Decades of loyalty has only gone so far," the lieutenant explained. "Competence has never been our problem, only political connections,"

"I am no politician," Max pointed out.

"Yet you are a cousin to the Grand Duke, sir."

"What are you implying?" the major bristled.

"Forgive me, sir," Yuri hastily apologised. "I mean no disrespect, only that your family connections -"

"I am only thirty-eight years of age, Lieutenant," Max interrupted. "In spite of this, I could have been a general by now if I had accepted the offer from my 'family connections'."

"I... didn't know that."

"You wouldn't, it was kept very quiet," Max confided. "Yet I refused. Why do you think I did that?"

"To earn your rank, to stand on your own two feet," Yuri concluded with a measure of respect in his voice. "I apologise for my presumption, sir."

Max gave him a curt nod of approval and sauntered back over to the window, picking up a pewter mug of red wine from his desk along the way. "Help yourself to a drink, Lieutenant," he offered Yuri, gesturing at a recently installed polished wood cabinet. Max sipped from his own cup and gazed through the glass at the empty courtyard, musing on weighty thoughts while Yuri poured.

"What do you think of this operation?" Max asked, continuing to peer outside.

"To be honest sir, I find it all quite stirring," the lieutenant responded after a moment's thought. "With our new weapons and training, we will be able to break this stalemate and finally push further inland. I eagerly await the opportunity to fight for victory while our enemies turn and run from the searing bite of hot Kurhanir lead."

"So it doesn't bother you that we are forced to send a sizeable contingent so far north and delay the campaign?"

"King Osric is the one who bestowed upon us the secret of this powerful new weapon sir," Yuri explained, keeping his voice respectful. "It is only fitting that the Grand Duke keep his word and honour our agreement by defeating His Majesty's enemies in Tulsone. Once that is complete, we are free to pursue our destiny once more, with the addition of a powerful ally in the north. It is only a minor delay, sir. Come, let us toast our inevitable success, and to new alliances."

"A little premature I think," Max pointed out, downing the last of his wine and setting the cup back down on the desk. "Have you ever met Osric?"

"King Osric sir, and yes, only briefly," Yuri conceded, lowering his glass after Max rebuffed his toast.

"He's not our ruler, Yuri and Kurhan needs no King. Does he strike you as a generous man, or a gracious man?"

"He is a King, sir. He cannot be held to the same standard as ordinary men."

"You do him too much credit, I fear," Max admonished. "This glorious new weapon you gush over has many flaws. Tell me, Lieutenant, what do you hear?" Yuri went quiet and listened, hearing only the falling rain on the roof.

"Silence, Major," he finally answered.

"Silence indeed," Max grunted. "Firearms cannot abide the presence of water which, in hindsight, seems like something we probably should have realised before we accepted this deal."

"It doesn't rain all the time," Yuri pointed out.

"So when the enemy fights us during a downpour, we are to politely ask them to wait until the skies are clear? War waits for nobody and nothing, Yuri. These damnable weapons are unreliable at the best of times, and it's the reason I'm training the men extra hard with their blades, though the general staff can't seem to understand why."

"Prudent, though we have yet to see a proper battle to truly test them," Yuri offered in consolation. "You have seen their capabilities on the training ground, yes? Think what the outcome would have been if you'd had a company of men armed with such power in the Battle of Burgstadt."

"I have thought on this in recent days, and given the conditions at the time, I suspect the mighty shields of the Ramidian phalanxes would have been shattered, and I would have lost merely a few dozen instead of a few hundred men on our retreat," Max conceded. "Yet my doubts remain, Yuri. May your cousin find himself in favourable conditions when his men encounter resistance."

"I expect to hear of their victories by this time next week," the lieutenant said as they heard a knock at the door.

"I miss the peace and quiet of my frontier posting," Max muttered as Yuri set down his cup and opened the door. Both of them snapped to attention as a reflex when they saw King Osric dressed in fine black clothing, standing at the entrance.

"Majesty, you honour us with your presence," Yuri said with a bow, a little too obsequious for Max's liking. Osric strolled inside limping only slightly with each step.

"It is so unusual of you to take the front door, Majesty," the major drawled.

"I don't think I care for your tone, Major," Osric warned. "Do not forget who it is you are addressing."

"Leave us," Max quietly ordered Yuri and was surprised when Osric spoke up.

"I'd prefer him to stay, actually," Osric remarked, spying the drinks cabinet nearby and helping himself to the open bottle of red wine. "I think it prudent to have your staff briefed on their role in the coming weeks, wouldn't you agree?"

"As you wish," Max responded without emotion, silently angry at having his authority overruled. Yuri didn't seem at all surprised at this development and the major again wondered what his connections were. "Firstly, I want you to continue entering via the door in future – using your bizarre sorcery to come and go from my office on a whim isn't something I want to be connected with. My countrymen are superstitious enough as it is."

"I was in a hurry at the time," Osric replied as he sipped the wine approvingly. "I promise to use more discretion in the future, though I find the Kurhanir's distrust of magic quite amusing, truth be told. You should learn to embrace the power of the magic around us. It is a tool to be used, and let me assure you, it is very useful at instilling fear in one's enemies. My word, this is a fine drop," he added, marvelling at the quality of the wine he sipped. "I've missed such comforts while on the road these last few weeks."

"If you're looking to relax after your recent defeat," Max suggested, with a little too much emphasis on the word 'defeat', "perhaps you could retire to your chambers? I have a lot of work to do here, not the least of which is writing letters of condolence to Captain Jansen's family. You remember him, don't you? A fine, upstanding man who didn't make it home."

"Yes, I remember him," Osric answered. "A true patriot, willing to lay down his life and the lives of his men for a greater cause. A pity they couldn't handle the threat posed by a few girls, though."

"Are these the same girls that defeated you?" Max casually asked, receiving a long, icy stare from Osric in response.

"I didn't come here to bandy words with you, Major, but to conduct important business," the former king finally said between clenched teeth.

"And that would be?"

"To further discuss my plans for retaking my homeland, of course. You are the officer in charge, after all."

"Did you have something particular in mind, or are you willing to defer to my judgement?"

"I have a concern, if you are willing to listen," Osric suggested, carefully easing himself onto a wooden chair. "We can no longer count on Aielund staying out of the fight. Their Queen has a special hatred of me and should she learn of my involvement, I have no doubt she will move to assist my idiot brother in defending Tulsone."

"You assured me and the general staff, not to mention the Grand Duke himself, that your plan would ensure Aielund would be unable to spare any forces to interfere," Max pointed out, glancing at Yuri, whose expression was unreadable.

"That is no longer the case," Osric purred with distaste, clearly finding the taste of defeat unpalatable.

"How would the Queen of Aielund know of your involvement?" Yuri inquired politely. "If all they see is the Kurhanir moving on your homeland, there is no reason to suspect you at all."

"Because, Lieutenant, I had to put on quite a show to expel the Akoran savages from their mountain home," Osric explained patiently. "They saw me, as did the two dragons I manipulated into helping the cause. I have no doubt they have informed the Aielunders of my presence and therefore, Queen Criosa knows too. They will be expecting me."

"Yes, but in a push on their land, not Tulsone," Max pointed out.

"We cannot take that chance. I am asking you to send an additional three companies to bolster Captain Zarubin's forces."

"Three hundred men and supplies? Out of the question," Max replied coldly, having anticipated this request the moment Osric appeared at the door. "The long-awaited move against the Ramidians in the south is upon us. We will be retaking Burgstadt within the month and from there, pushing further than we have been in three decades. It is the very reason I was chosen for this command, for Burgstadt is mine, and I won't deplete the assault's numbers and risk lives to make up for your... misjudgement."

Maximilian knew he was pushing the limits of what he could say, for despite being a foreigner, Osric had curried the favour of the Grand Duke and Max was honour-bound to follow his commands. To disrespect the King of Tulsone was to also show disrespect for Max's own sovereign, which could spell the end of his career, family connections or no. Osric had yet to speak and merely sat there, glaring at Max in a way some might find disconcerting.

"Unacceptable," Osric finally said, setting aside his cup and leaning forward. "I have bestowed upon your people weapons beyond your wildest dreams. Weapons with which you will conquer the known world, should you wish it. An alliance between my realm and yours would be unstoppable, Major, but for words such as yours that jeopardise everything we are both striving for. Your own ruler has decreed that I am to be given all aid in retaking my home, and I question both your courage and your ability to carry out his orders."

"It is my decision," Max answered quietly, unperturbed by Osric's growing anger. "Grand Duke Lothar, whom you evidently have so much respect for, has tasked me with conducting your little war. If you have an issue with my strategy I suggest you take it up with him."

Osric's expression was graced with a thin smile, devoid of humour. He rose from his seat and moved to stand before Maximilian, coming only to the major's chin in height. Yet Max was no fool – he had seen the power this man wielded and knew his height was no measure of his true power.

"Very well," Osric purred, "let's go have a word with him. Excuse us, Lieutenant, but I think you can handle things here for a while." Before Yuri could answer, Osric grabbed Max by his forearm and touched an odd metal bracer on his arm with one hand. A sudden flash of violet light engulfed them for the span of a heartbeat, and when it cleared Max discovered they had moved.

Gone was the small, austere office he had made his own. The two men now stood in the middle of an expansive indoor space with lavish carvings engraved on its dark stone walls. Light filtered in through huge windows above, illuminating what could otherwise have been a dim and oppressive chamber. The room was not empty – around them, noble men and women in the finest of clothing appeared startled at the sudden appearance of Osric and Max in their midst, and seated on a pair of large glittering thrones at the end of the chamber was the Grand Duke and Duchess of Kurhain.

Lothar, grandson of the country's founder, bore a striking resemblance to the First Duke though his features were partially obscured by an elaborate oiled moustache that swept upwards at each end. Aside from facial similarities however, Lothar was a thin man with sallow cheeks and lacked the barrel-chested frame of his ancestor.

His wife, Frieda, was equally thin with large, dark eyes and hair tightly wrapped into a bun. The fine garments they wore hung from their bony frames as if one size too large, yet in spite of these minor flaws, they commanded the unquestioning loyalty of their subjects. Lounging on the floor next to the Duke's throne was a huge tiger, held in check with a collar and chain, though the pampered beast seemed content to laze about and eat whatever offerings came its way.

"Forgive our interruption, Your Grace," Osric intoned, bowing low as Max pulled his arm free. "I have a matter of utmost urgency to discuss with you and it couldn't wait."

"I always have time for you, my friend," Lothar replied in his tight, nasal voice which did nothing to bolster his image. Beside him, his wife turned and whispered harsh words to a man in burgundy robes, who bowed low in apology. What they spoke of was beyond Max's hearing, but she seemed to be upset at the sudden intrusion, something the major was all too familiar with.

"Approach," Frieda intoned, turning her attention to Osric once more.

"The good Major has explained to me you still wish to begin your southern campaign as soon as possible. Given the change of circumstances your forces are facing in the north, I have humbly requested an additional three hundred men to bolster their numbers. Maximilian has declined this request, but I wanted to hear your opinion on the matter, Lothar."

"Major Strauss has my full faith and confidence, as you well know," the Duke answered hesitantly, "but I have sworn to honour our agreement and, as a man of my word, I must do what is in my power to see you restored to your rightful place. Major, what is the problem?"

"Time, Your Grace," Max answered simply. "If we wish to press ahead and seize lost territory before winter grips the land, we must begin the campaign within three weeks. If I reduce the contingent by three companies and send them north, as King Osric requests, I cannot guarantee that we can take Burgstadt and the surrounding territories before the land freezes over."

"I see," Lothar mused, appearing to be thoughtful yet giving the distinct impression he didn't fully grasp the problem and was simply trying to appear intelligent.

"I am not insensitive to the goals of the Kurhanir people, Your Grace," Osric continued, using his most persuasive tone. "Yet I am confident the weapons you now possess will allow you to effectively field less men and still achieve victory. Three hundred from ten thousand is not so much to ask, I think."

"Breaking a siege is no small matter, sire," Max protested, choosing his words with caution. "Three hundred can make the difference between victory and defeat, and we still have yet to extensively test these weapons in the field. There is too much at stake to risk half-measures."

"Yet without this man, we wouldn't even have that much," Duchess Frieda interjected, staring directly at Max as she spoke. "I do not like being in debt Major, and I wish to see King Osric return to his homeland as swiftly as possible."

Max pondered this for a moment, sensing a hidden message within her words. Double-talk was typically the province of the political elite, yet his brief experience dealing with Osric had taught Max how to recognise the subtleties of reading between the lines.

"I wouldn't want to delay his triumphant return any longer than necessary, Your Grace," he finally answered with a slight bow, knowing they were speaking on the same level. "I shall make arrangements to send additional forces north immediately."

"Splendid," Lothar exclaimed with a satisfied grin. "I knew we could settle this matter like gentlemen. I trust you find this to your satisfaction, Osric?"

"Very much so," he responded blandly, distracted by one of the attractive young noble ladies of the court who was staring at the handsome monarch from the corner of her eye. "See to your work, Major. I have other matters to attend to. If I have Your Grace's permission to leave?"

"Yes, I think we're done here," Lothar mumbled as Osric walked away without awaiting an answer. Max bowed low, turned about-face and marched through a large pair of gold-trimmed stone doors. The last thing he heard was the sound of a woman's laughter as Osric escorted the young lady out of the hall. Maximilian wondered if the there was a hidden price to this alliance that he was only just now becoming aware of, and worried for the future of his country.

3

### Gordon

Aislin tried to keep her eyes focused on the road ahead as she desperately attempted to forget everything Madelyn had explained over the last few hours. Glancing around, she accidentally caught the eye of the young noblewoman, who smiled and nodded reassuringly, certain her advice had been well-received. Aislin looked to Jaz for comment but her friend could barely stifle a case of the giggles and had to turn away. Aislin went back to staring at the ground, not daring to look at anyone else for the potential embarrassment it might bring.

Endless red dirt spread from horizon to horizon beneath a clear azure sky. She trudged along behind the others, her soft leather boots breaking through a thin crust of dirt to the sandy soil beneath with each step. Despite the flat terrain, walking was just as demanding as it was in the mountains, as if the very ground was trying to pull her in. But this wasn't the worst part.

They were well past the peak of summer and the heat was intense, beyond anything she'd experienced in the green fields of Bracksford. Aislin had already removed the thick winter cloak and gloves she'd used to stay warm in the mountains, and a little while later decided the thick pants she wore beneath her torn dress had to go as well.

She pulled them off with relief when they next stopped for a break and strapped them to her pack, then noticed the others were struggling with the sudden change in the weather too. Jaz had worn an oversized coat belonging to Aislin's father since they'd escaped from Bracksford, but this had to go in the face of the blistering sun. Beneath the coat was a long blue dress Jaz had been wearing on her journey south, a much more fitting garment for the hot conditions.

Carthack was having the most trouble, it seemed, which came as a surprise to Aislin.

The huge man had shown little sign of being affected by cold, hunger or fighting in their time together.

"Are you okay?" Aislin asked, handing him her water skin, which he refused to take.

"Don't like heat," he grunted, mopping sweat from his brow. He'd removed his old longcoat, which had done little to improve his condition. "Where my people from, no heat, only cold. Always cold, and dark."

"You almost sound homesick," Madelyn remarked, leaning backwards to take a long swig from her water skin. Aislin poked her head into the top of Carthack's pack to give Keg a drink, which he eagerly lapped from the palm of her hand.

"Will be fine," Carthack said, dismissing their concerns. "Brought plenty of water. Long way to go, we walk now." With a sigh, they gathered their things and set out once more. It wasn't long before Aislin spied something on the horizon, though with the heat wafting up from the ground, the view was distorted and she couldn't quite tell what it was.

"Can you see that?" she asked, pointing south. The others squinted in that direction, shielding their eyes to make out the only point of interest in the otherwise featureless landscape.

"That'd be Hellfire Peak," Gordon explained. "We need to keep that on our right if'n we want to stay on course."

"I don't like the name," Aislin said, looking at what must have been the tip of the mountain rising from the lands around it.

"Oh it's nothing to worry about," Jaz answered. "It used to be an active volcano, long ago."

"What's that?"

"A mountain that spews fire and lays waste to the lands around it," Jaz cheerfully explained.

"You just said it was nothing to worry about," Aislin pointed out, glancing with consternation at the forbidding red mountain.

"It hasn't been active in centuries," Gordon assured her. "There's a theory that its last big blast is what turned these once fertile lands into red dirt."

"That's reassuring," Madelyn remarked cynically, though her heart wasn't in it. Her blouse was soaked with sweat and her fair skin was slowly turning red under the blistering sun.

"Actually, volcanoes spread fertile soil all around them when they go off," Jaz chimed in helpfully. "If it really did go off in some massive eruption centuries ago, the land around here would be covered in grass and trees by now. No, something else happened here, something that destroyed all life in the soil."

"Anyway, it's just a big pointy rock," Gordon said to the girls. "Nothin' to get all worked up about. Come on, the sooner we get movin' the sooner we get to Aurumgaard."

"What's it like there?" Aislin asked as they continued walking, hoping for a story to pass the time.

"Wouldn't know, I ain't been there in decades, and then only fer a few days," Gordon responded with a shrug. "Me memories are a little fuzzy, but I remember it being a lavish sorta place, with big columns shining with gold, going all the way up to the ceiling. It's probably the wealthiest place in the region and has been for aeons. With that sorta money comes power and influence, so that's why I reckon me kin will have a handle on whatever's going on down in Kurhain."

"It'll be nice just to buy some new clothes," Madelyn sighed, "and to sleep in a bed for a change."

"I hope ye can pay for it," Gordon asked with a suspicious eye in her direction.

"I'm sure I can manage," she replied, holding up a sparkling gemstone Jaz had given her a few days earlier.

"Less talk," Carthack grunted, interrupting their discussion. "Waste water through mouth. Keep closed, drink less." Aislin sighed, as her plan for some nice conversation was thwarted, forcing them to continue walking in silence.

The day passed slowly, with every mile they travelled feeling like ten. As the sun descended towards the horizon, Aislin's strength was flagging and each foot felt as though it had lead weights attached. She kept her discomfort to herself though, not wanting to bother anyone with her weakness. This plan went just swimmingly until a few minutes later, she tripped on a rock and toppled over. Aislin struggled to get up until she was suddenly picked up by Carthack, who held her in his massive arms as if she weighed nothing.

"No shame asking for help," he advised. She was too tired to protest.

Not long after, as the blazing sun sank to the horizon, they approached a gentle rise dotted with large rocks. Carthack declared this their camp for the night and deposited his passengers carefully on the sandy earth. Keg, well rested but cranky after the hot journey, prowled around the rocks for something to fight while Aislin lay flat on the ground.

Before long, a small fire was burning and Gordon was cooking their dinner. Usually gruff, he always seemed more at peace preparing a meal, as if reassured by the routine. They ate their fill with little conversation, content to turn in as early as possible, knowing another arduous day was ahead of them. As the campfire burned low, Keg returned from a long hunt with a motionless lizard in his jaws.

He dropped it by Aislin's side, offering it to her first which was terribly nice of him, but she quietly declined his offer. As he devoured his meal, Aislin happened to glance to the south and noticed a glow on the horizon she hadn't seen earlier. The last time she had seen something like that, it was at her home town – with an army camped in the centre.

Suddenly alert, she crawled over to Jaz and borrowed her enchanted goggles. Placing them over her eyes, Aislin adjusted a little lever on top until the image zoomed in to the source of the light. It was too far away to make out any detail, but the light was definitely coming from dozens of camp fires.

Scuttling over to where Carthack lay, Aislin shook him until he turned over and looked up at her curiously.

"There's something going on over there," she whispered, pointing south. She offered him the goggles, which he accepted and, after heaving his huge frame upright, peered through them to see what she was talking about. His posture changed instantly and he looked intently through the goggles for nearly a minute before rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Army," he rumbled quietly, trying not to wake the others.

"What do we do?" Aislin asked in a small voice, already nervous.

"They sleep now, but maybe have patrol. Can see our fire," he added, kicking sand over the dying embers to extinguish it completely. "Might know we here."

"Should we go?" she asked, though Carthack had to give it some thought before he answered.

"You rest, I go scout," he finally responded. "Cat stay on watch, earn his keep. If trouble, run."

"I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep now," Aislin whispered ruefully, even as Carthack went through his gear for a few important items.

"You will, easy," he responded. "I keep these, go scout, okay?" he added, holding the goggles before him.

"Be careful," she ordered him, knowing he was taking a big risk. He ruffled her tangle of hair and silently crept around the rocks, disappearing into the darkness.

None of the others had woken during this exchange, and Aislin saw no reason to bother them. Crawling back over to her bedroll, she caught Keg's attention and watched his eyes glittering at her in the darkness.

"There might be trouble," she whispered. "Stay alert, in case there's someone out there hunting us. He remained silent, though she did feel the swish of his tail on her leg. Aislin could always tell when Keg was in a bad mood, and she pitied whoever might have the misfortune to run into the feisty tomcat overnight.

He crept off into the darkness, leaving Aislin to possibly lie awake for hours, pondering the possibility of running into some trouble in the morning. Fortunately, Carthack's prediction proved true and she dropped off to sleep within moments of her head resting against her pack.

* * *

Aislin awakened with her heart pounding at the sound of Keg screeching somewhere nearby. The air was freezing cold and the sky was grey with the light of pre-dawn. The others around the camp had also been woken by the racket and were stumbling about for their gear. Certain something terrible was about to befall them, Aislin rushed towards the sound as Keg continued to yowl and spit.

Heedless of her own safety, she pulled Sliver from its sheath and came around the side of a large rock to see Keg facing off against a huge, dark form that could only be Carthack, clutching painfully at his leg as the cat crouched nearby, waiting for another chance to strike.

"Keg, stop that," she cried in relief, wilting against the rock to catch her breath. "You know he's with us, dummy!" Keg stopped his fierce display and sat on his haunches licking a paw, not one aspect of his posture indicating he was sorry about the mistake.

"That hurt," Carthack growled at him, limping slightly as the big man made his way to Aislin. "Camp full of soldiers, Kurhanir. We must move fast."

"What's this?" Gordon croaked, still half asleep and giving Keg a spiteful glance. Carthack repeated his news and that had the effect of fully waking everyone up.

"What're they doin' in the middle of a desert?" Gordon complained as he quickly packed his supplies.

"Don't talk, move," Carthack ordered. "We must be gone when sun rise." Sensing the urgency in his voice, they set about packing their gear as quickly as possible and before the top of the sun was peeking above the horizon, they were following Carthack amidst the rocks and dunes. A strong wind stirred the desert sands around them, a dry blast of air devoid of any particular smell. Keg trotted alongside Aislin as they were pelted with the stinging sands, for once not seeking refuge in Carthack's pack.

"Are they coming this way?" Madelyn asked, glancing around as if expecting an attack at any moment.

"You find out soon," Carthack rumbled, doing little to assuage their fears. He led them up the side of another small rise and when they reached the top, motioned for them to lie low on the ground. From here, the vast red plains of sand were visible for miles around with the looming spectre of Hellfire Peak rising above it all. To the east, Aislin could see the dark shape of something else in the distance, a tall building remaining from the civilisation that had once thrived in these lands. Its size paled by comparison to the mountain but nevertheless drew her curiosity for a moment.

Carthack peered through the goggles, then silently handed them back to Jaz, who fastened them over her eyes and gasped as she took in the distant sight.

"There's hundreds of people out there," she exclaimed, fiddling with tiny levers to focus her vision. "They seem to be moving closer, to the north-west perhaps?"

"Look west," Carthack grunted, prompting everyone to turn their heads to the far horizon. Without the aid of Jaz's enchanted goggles, Aislin could only make out a cloud of dust hanging over the land, but there was something odd about it.

"What is that?" she wondered aloud.

"You mean aside from the dust?" Madelyn remarked cynically.

"Oh my," Jaz murmured, her eyes focused on the truth of the matter. "There are a lot of people riding on horseback, and they're charging straight for the other army."

"We're not in trouble, they are," Gordon surmised with a relieved grunt.

"Desert riders," Carthack confirmed as the dull rumble of their distant hooves began to reach Aislin's ears. "Nomadic, don't like invaders."

"Even if those invaders are simply passing through on their way to invade someone else?" Madelyn asked.

"Would ye like it if someone walked an army through yer land?" Gordon responded.

"This is a wasteland, sir," Madelyn pointed out in exasperation. "Nobody owns it. There's nothing here to own."

"Are the Kurhanir carrying firearms?" Aislin asked Jaz, suddenly cautious.

"It's difficult to make out." Jaz hedged.

"If so, we'll hear about it soon enough," Gordon suggested grimly. Aislin watched in trepidation as the cloud of horsemen closed in on the foot soldiers from the south, and sure enough, the 'crack' of distant firearms began to echo over the landscape.

"This fight ain't gonna go the horsemen's way," Gordon muttered, fixated on the distant battle as much as any of them. More sounds began to reach them high on the dune – the shouted orders of officers, the screams of men and crash of horses falling to the earth.

"Do we need to be watching this?" Aislin inquired, sickened by the whole thing.

"No, and we should keep well clear of it," Gordon replied in agreement. "I -" His voice was suddenly cut off as Jaz, who was looking up at the sky through her goggles, screamed in terror. Confused, Aislin glanced up and saw nothing unusual until an immense, winged shape seemed to appear out of nowhere right above the battlefield and plunge into the middle of the fight. An explosion of sand from the impact obscured the scene, yet it was clear what had just happened.

A dragon had entered the fray. Aislin briefly thought it was one of the two they had met previously, the two who had been forced by the Mad King Osric to cause a mass migration of the Akoran people into Aielish lands. But with only a glance Aislin could see this dragon was nothing like those two, in appearance or temperament.

It's colossal wings and serpentine neck rose proudly above the scene of chaos around it. Its scales were mottled red and grey, the same colour as the sands around it and the brief moment of hope Aislin felt at the appearance of a dragon vanished, for even at this distance Aislin felt her chest constrict in fear.

The sounds of firearms discharging around it crackled through the air, though if they hurt the dragon at all, it showed no distress. Instead, it opened its cavernous maw and breathed deeply before exhaling an eruption of fire. It swept its neck around to bathe the entire area in flame, which in itself was horrible enough, yet moments later a series of explosions detonated around it, completely obscuring the creature in smoke and fire.

"The shooter's powder just went off," Gordon exclaimed, the only one of their group who managed to keep a level head after what they'd just witnessed. "Come on, we've got to get outta here!"

Pulling her gaze away from the astonishing sight of the enormous ball of fire, Aislin and the others scrambled down the side of the dune and followed Gordon as the triumphant roar of the dragon thundered over the land, spurring their legs on to greater speed.

The glowing ball of the sun was hovering just above the horizon before them, shining directly in their eyes as they put as much distance between themselves and the dragon as possible. Carthack would ordinarily have been in the lead, but he seemed more afflicted by the intense light than any of them and stumbled along, temporarily blinded by the sun. Noticing this, Madelyn took him by the arm and guided him along the uneven stretch of desert.

Even over the pounding of her heart, Aislin could hear a dull rumble of hooves as the desert horsemen fled the scene of the dragon's attack. Glancing behind her, a dozen riders were fleeing in their direction.

"Where are we going?" she called to Gordon, who clutched his longarm fiercely as they ran.

"Southeast, around the battle," he shouted back. "Hopefully they won't notice us."

"The riders will be upon us before then," Aislin pointed out.

"Not seein' a lot of options here, Ace. Let's just hope they're friendly."

"What about that place?" Madelyn cried, pointing at something ahead of them. Aislin squinted against the light and barely made out the building she had spied earlier. Apparently the only one to have noticed it, the building appeared to be a tall and graceful tower.

"Probably some old ruin," Gordon answered. "Aye, it might be good to shelter in for a bit." With that, he adjusted their course to head directly for it, with the rumble of riders not far behind. Another sound could be heard over the top of even this noise which filled Aislin with dread - the ominous beat of wings through the air.

Daring to glance behind her, Aislin's view was filled with the immense dragon swooping down with claws extended, plucking one of the riders from his horse and tossing him through the air, as if playing a game. The other riders, armed with recurve bows, loosed arrows at the dragon's flank, only to find their shots turned aside by its thick scales.

More arrows flew through the air from some place not far away as other riders brought their bows to bear upon it. The dragon suddenly flared its wings and wheeled through the air towards the south, giving Aislin a clear look as it sped away to deal with them. Scars were evident along much of its body and there were even a few scales missing here and there, giving the impression the gigantic creature was very old.

"Wait wait wait," Jaz suddenly blurted, her eyes fixated on their destination. "I think I recognise that tower. We can't go inside, it's full of dangerous magic!"

"How do ya know?" Gordon shouted back as they slowed a little.

"I've read things about an old tower in the desert that nobody dares go into. The Spire, it's called, a place of forbidden secrets."

"We can't bloody well stay out here!" Gordon shouted back. "I'll take a stone tower over open ground any day." The dragon's roar from the other side of the dunes punctuated the urgency of their flight, and indeed, the desert riders near them galloped right past without paying them any heed.

Jaz kept silent at Gordon's insistence, but her face was marred by deep concern. Ahead, the tower had grown large enough in their sight to obscure the sun, a tall and once-graceful building which, like the rest of this region, had been left to decay over the centuries. It was much larger than it had looked from a distance, with its crumbling spire soared high above them, leaving Aislin feeling tiny and insignificant in its shadow.

They were within sight of the main doors, a huge pair of stone blocks which may well have kept the entrance sealed for a very long time. Spurring her tired legs on for one last sprint, Aislin levelled her gaze at the doors and sped onward, only to be pushed into the ground by Carthack as the dragon returned, thundering just overhead as it went for another of the riders nearby.

Aislin spat red sand as she cautiously looked up, noticing the rest of her friends had hit the ground as well, all except for Keg. The ginger tomcat sprinted on to the tower itself and leaped up the side of the uneven stone wall to a gap where a window used to be, squeezing inside and disappearing into the questionable safety of the Spire.

Seizing their chance, Aislin and the others scrambled back onto their feet and made a dash for safety, practically crashing into the closed doors.

"Maybe we can pry 'em open," Gordon muttered, almost out of breath as his expert fingers searched for something to grip along the door's edge.

"No, these doors can only be opened from the inside," Jaz cried, moving to the window Keg had leapt through. "Aislin, climb in here and look for a lever or switch on the wall." The window ledge was just out of her reach, but she judged that her thin frame might be able to slip through the gap.

"Help me up," Aislin responded as she took off her back pack. Carthack immediately answered the call and his huge hands lifted her effortlessly to the ledge, whereupon Aislin turned sideways and just barely managed to squeeze her way between the stone walls. Once on the other side, she had no choice but to drop to the floor as there was nothing else to grab on to, but she was on her feet in an instant, feeling her way along the wall for anything that could be used to open the ancient doors.

"Be quick about it," Madelyn hissed, her voice muffled from the other side. "That monster is looking for something else to kill."

"You're not helping," Aislin groaned, struggling to keep a level head as she went about getting the job done. The sudden shift from the blazing sun to this pitch-black interior left her completely blind, forcing her to rely solely on her sense of touch to find the lever. Fortunately, whoever had designed this place had built the control right next to the door itself, for within moments her searching hands stumbled upon it.

Tired from their desperate flight and having missed breakfast entirely, Aislin simply couldn't force the lever to move in spite of her best efforts.

"It won't open!" she cried through the gap between the doors.

"Go to the window," Jaz instructed. Aislin complied and saw Carthack's hand holding Jaz's aetheric hammer, a powerful magical tool with a myriad of uses. Once she grabbed the end of it he let go, allowing it to rest in Aislin's hand. She held it curiously, unsure how the magic worked.

"Just hit the lever like you were using a hammer, but shield your eyes," Jaz told her, evidently reading her mind. Aislin carefully moved back to where she'd found the lever and held the hammer firmly in her hands, aiming it carefully at the stubborn control.

"Look away Keg," she called, knowing the cat was in the darkness somewhere nearby, and with her eyes squinting against the inevitable flash, she raised her arms and brought the small device down. It struck the lever dead-on, flashing with sudden brightness and sounding as though an anvil had been struck with a sledgehammer. The lever slammed into place and light poured into the chamber as the ancient doors opened with a deep, grinding sound that made the red dirt on the floor skitter across the flagstone surface.

Somebody has power, a deep, gravely male voice said within Aislin's mind, the telepathic voice of the dragon. It was filled with a terrible resolve and stopped everyone in mid-step. Looking out past her friends, Aislin spied the dragon as it changed course and headed directly for the tower.

"Get it closed!" Madelyn cried after they'd stumbled inside. Aislin reversed the action of the hammer, smacking the lever back upwards again with the same ringing impact as before. The doors slowly closed again, slamming shut with a dull boom long before the dragon came close. They stood there in the almost complete darkness, breathing heavily with relief until the doors suddenly shuddered from a powerful impact.

"Get back," Carthack growled, pushing everyone further into the mysterious chamber as the dragon slammed into the doors a second time. Aislin's breath caught in her throat as silence fell once more, punctuated with the heavy sounds of movement as the monster prowled around the tower's edge, blocking the light from each small window as it passed. She held Sliver in one hand and the aetheric hammer in the other, fully aware they were puny weapons compared to the terrible majesty of the dragon.

"This one ain't like yer other mates," Gordon quietly remarked to Aislin, licking his lips in consternation.

"No, Spartan would never hurt so many people like that," she breathed in reply.

So you've met my cousins, the dragon mused within their minds, evidently overhearing their quiet conversation. Do not hold me to their pathetic standard. They are weak, traitors to their own kind. I respect that you ran from me, the dragon continued, peering in through a window with one huge, reptilian eye. Who wouldn't? Whole armies have fallen before my might. But if you had one shred of intelligence you wouldn't have shut yourself in that tower.

"Why don't you come in here and get us?" Madelyn shouted defiantly, her voice shaking only a little.

I won't need to, the dark things that dwell inside will snuff out your flickering lives within minutes, while I sit here and watch. If I were you, I'd take my chances out here rather than face what lies within.

"Sounds to me like yer a coward, letting others do yer work for ya," Gordon taunted while aiming at the window along the pipe of his firearm. The dragon responded with a deafening roar of frustration and slammed its talons into the side of the tower, shaking its foundations and showering Aislin and the others with dust and debris.

They scrambled further away from the window, stumbling over sand-covered furniture and debris from ages past in their haste to put some distance between them and the furious dragon, but in spite of its ferocious display, it seemed neither willing nor able to bash open the doors. Small dusty objects littering the ancient tables around them fell to the floor as they crashed blindly through, and Aislin thought more than one of them was glowing with an eerie blue light.

During their mad scramble a round metal plate clattered onto the floor after Gordon smashed into the table it sat upon, and Aislin slipped on some debris and fell directly on top of it. There was a flash of violet light and the noise of the room suddenly vanished, replaced by silence interrupted only by the beating of her heart and her heavy breathing.

A thin shaft of light streamed through a crack in the wall, though it did little to illuminate Aislin's immediate area. Tables covered in thick, dusty cobwebs stood in her immediate vicinity, but they weren't broken as before. There was no sign of the red dirt on the floor either, aside from what was stuck to her boots. Slowly getting back on her feet, Aislin was a little unsteady after a demanding morning and looked around, noticing that her companions had vanished, leaving her alone in the dark, strange tower.

4

### Ghosts

"Gordon?" Aislin called, listening to her voice echo along the walls of a vast stone chamber. The air was dusty and dry, smelling very much like mouldy bread and the only illumination was a shaft of light coming through a crack in the distant wall. "Jaz? Madelyn?" she called again, but there was no answer from the darkness. Her heart racing with rising fear, Aislin stumbled about and tripped into a pile of unseen junk which broke under her weight, tossing Sliver and the hammer from her hands.

She felt the clingy embrace of cobwebs and sneezed as a cloud of dust enveloped her. Worse than that, as she lay there shaking, Aislin felt the pieces of wood and metal moving beneath her. Squealing in fear, she scrambled backwards on all fours as something emerged from the pile and meowed at her.

"Keg?" she blurted as the cat's eyes glittered at her through the darkness. Aislin crawled forward and cleared the wreckage from his body, then wrapped her arms around him in relief. His heart was beating wildly and he was out of breath from the sprint to the tower, but he was otherwise unharmed. Aislin's moment of relief vanished when the room briefly shook, and the distant roar of a dragon could be heard through the stone.

"We're still in the tower," she whispered to Keg, knowing full well he wouldn't answer. "Jaz said there was magic in this place. I guess we fell right on top of some." They sat there together catching their breath, listening to the faint bellow of the dragon somewhere below for the better part of a minute. The sudden crack of a distant shot could only have come from Gordon's firearm, a sound which both reassured and filled Aislin with dread.

"We have to find a way back to them," she whispered to Keg. Sifting almost blindly through the dusty clutter, she soon recovered Sliver and the small magical hammer, then started making her way through the piles of broken furniture towards the shaft of light. Keg made his way through the room with far more grace than her, crawling beneath whatever he couldn't jump over.

It would have been easy to become lost in the great chamber, but Aislin kept her eyes on the light, using it to guide her movements in spite of whatever huge block of junk barred her way. When she finally reached the crack in the wall, she leaned against it in relief, enjoying the warmth of the sun against her skin for just a moment. Peering through the gap, she was awed to discover they were far above the ground and could see for miles across the dry, red earth.

"We have a lot of walking to do Keg," she whispered in dismay as their situation sunk in. Turning to look at the cat, Aislin was distressed to find he wasn't at her feet, or anywhere she could see nearby. Before she could call out for him, the sound of Keg's screeching echoed from somewhere across the room, followed almost immediately by the sound of something crashing to the floor. Shading her eyes from the light, Aislin glimpsed something moving among the ruins.

"Who's there?" Aislin called with a trembling voice while her grasp on Sliver's hilt tightened.

Just a fellow traveller, wandering in places we shouldn't be, came the reply, a man's voice, clear and crisp despite the clutter in the room. It spoke directly in her mind but wasn't hostile, a far cry from the terrible voice of the dragon outside and yet somehow, it was oddly familiar. Can you please call off your beast? I have no wish to hurt him.

"Keg, come to me," she called, uncertain if he'd respond. "He doesn't always listen to me, especially when he's hunting. He's quite vicious actually, so don't underestimate him. Have you been hiding here, watching me all this time?"

I was doing a little reading when you so rudely interrupted, the voice responded. How did you even teleport in here, anyway? The magic of this place prevents anyone breaching these walls by any means except walking through a door.

"I don't know," Aislin answered. "We fell on something glowing on the floor below and ended up here."

Ah, the ground floor. The one place I haven't yet visited, the voice mused. You said your friend warned you of this place? It probably would have been wise to listen to her. There's more than shadows and magic lurking in these walls.

"Are you going to hurt me?" Aislin whispered, recalling the huge dragon had warned them about the horrors of what lived within the tower.

You're quite safe from me, the voice calmly assured her. I have no intention of harming you, though there are others in this tower who wouldn't be so generous. It's been some time since I've had anyone to talk to, actually. What brings you this far into the middle of nowhere?

"We're heading south to a place called 'or-um-gard'," Aislin answered cautiously, feeling Keg brush up against her leg to mark his return. "This morning we spotted two armies fighting not far from us, and then a dragon landed in the middle of them and everyone was running in every direction to escape. We came to this tower to hide, and the dragon followed us."

That's a pretty good reason actually, her unseen guest remarked with a faint trace of humour. Curious about who she was talking with, she moved through the clutter in his general direction. Although the voice was magically speaking directly into her mind, she could detect its origin somewhere not far away. As if sensing this, the sound of someone - or something - scurrying away could be heard.

"Where are you going?" Aislin inquired, her confidence rising as she tried to catch sight of whoever she was talking with. "Are you afraid of me?"

Of course not, the voice scoffed as 'it' ducked behind a tall piece of furniture. I just... prefer to remain unseen. If you saw what I truly am, you would be afraid.

"Are you a dragon?" she asked curiously.

I... what makes you say that?

"The other dragon outside, the big mean one - he spoke inside our heads too."

Dragons aren't the only creatures capable of telepathy, you know, the voice remarked. To be honest, I'm not really sure what I am. Ask me again some other time. What is your name, child?

"Aislin Ballard, and this is Keg," she answered, noting the source of the voice seemed to have shifted again. There was no reply, and after the silence became a little awkward, she asked, "Are you still there?"

Yes, he finally answered, though there was an odd catch in his voice. This place is dangerous, Aislin. You'd best leave as quickly as you can.

"I don't know where to go," she confessed. "Can you point the way for me?"

Navigating this place requires a little more effort than pointing a finger.

"Then show me."

You want me to guide you out? he asked hesitantly.

"Yes please," she answered fervently.

I'll do what I can, the voice replied with a measure of reluctance. You are in the Spire, a massive repository of ancient magic gone wild over many long years. Returning you to where you came from is going to require some courage on your part. I can guide you, but you'll have to trust me.

Aislin had no reason to do so, having just 'met' this disembodied voice. Her father had always cautioned her to be wary around strangers, yet in this situation, she didn't have a lot of choice. Without help, she could wander the halls of this place for weeks.

"I probably shouldn't, but your voice reminds me of someone I used to know," Aislin eventually responded.

Who would that be? the voice inquired with what Aislin thought was tension in his words.

"Someone who was very nice to me, and very brave," she answered wistfully, looking down at Sliver glinting in the dim light. "It doesn't matter, he's gone now. My friends might still be facing off against the dragon. I need to find them."

Most people run away from monsters, the voice pointed out.

"I can't just leave them there," Aislin answered emphatically. "If I was stuck down there facing that thing on my own, I'd want someone to come and help me."

A noble sentiment, the voice remarked. Very well, I will take you to them. But first things first. Not far in front of you is a relic I recently examined, a metal bracelet. Take it - it will provide you with a magical light so you can see where you're going.

Aislin could barely see anything but rummaged around with her hands in the hope of stumbling across the bracelet. Keg bumped against her leg, his warm fur mixed with something hard and cold. In sudden realisation, she reached down and discovered he was holding a bracelet in his mouth.

"Good boy," she muttered, taking the bracelet and threading it over her wrist. It was cool against her skin, made of unblemished bare metal beneath a layer of dust, with no sign of it being imbued with any sort of magic.

While touching it, say 'Lux', the voice instructed. Aislin did so and was suddenly bathed in a steady white light emanating from the bracelet. For the first time, she was able to properly see the chamber in which she stood, which looked like a workshop had collided with a library. Row after row of shelves laden with decaying old books lined the walls and the central part of the room was piled high with desks and chairs, most of them broken, and all of it covered in thick cobwebs. Keg sneezed, summing up Aislin's feel about the place.

Excuse the mess, I wasn't expecting guests, the voice explained with wry amusement. If you wish for darkness again, say 'Nox'. Now, do you see the pair of shelves leaning against each other on the far wall? Head over there, you'll find a doorway out.

"So what do I call you?" she asked, carefully threading her way through the piles of abandoned furniture towards the two shelves.

I don't think my name is important, the voice answered.

"I have to call you something."

Alright, if you insist, came the reply after a moment's hesitation. Call me Salinder. Aislin ducked low and moved carefully through the narrow passage between the shelves, brushing aside ancient cobwebs and sure enough, found the door on the other side. It was closed, and a quick test revealed the handle was locked in place.

"Okay Mister Salinder, what now?" Aislin inquired when she reached the door.

It doesn't open? I suppose I should have expected that.

"You didn't come through here?"

No I have other ways to get around, Salinder answered mysteriously. Keep trying the handle. The wood has probably swollen after centuries of neglect. Aislin did as he suggested, to no avail. Then she remembered the aetheric hammer wedged into her belt and almost slapped herself for forgetting it.

"I hope this still works," Aislin whispered to Keg as she held the hammer firmly in both hands. She swung it at the handle and it connected with a flash of light and a loud 'crack'. The handle, along with the surrounding wood, broke away completely leaving a large, smoking hole in the door.

Well, that works too, Salinder remarked as the door slowly creaked outwards. A hallway beckoned from beyond, curving to the left and dotted with small windows along its length that created shafts of light through the dusty air. Seeing no alternative, Aislin and Keg trotted through the corridor, hesitating only a moment when a dark shadow obscured the light for a brief moment.

"What was that?" she whispered, not daring to move closer to look outside.

The dragon you and your friends ran into outside, Salinder responded grimly. Aislin gasped, holding still while she waited to see what would happen, but the shadow did not return.

"I don't think he knows we're in here," she finally whispered, daring to breathe again.

There is something about the walls of this place that prevents looking inside with magic, Salinder explained. He would literally have to tear his way inside to learn of your presence, and I think you may have already learned he can't do that either. They really don't build things like this anymore.

"Has he gone?" Aislin wondered, creeping to the window to cautiously peer outside.

For now, but he won't go far.

"How do you know?

He knows I'm in here, and we have unfinished business, Salinder explained with surprising calm. Once he learned of my presence, Leviachon has been hovering around here for weeks, distracted only when he needs to eat, or if he sees a target ripe for the picking in nearby lands.

"His name is 'Levi-con'?"

Close enough. Amongst human lands, he is commonly referred to as Leviachon the Destroyer. A pompous name really, transloting to 'immense leader' in a way. The last part could't be less fitting, for he seeks only the destruction of civilization.

"He does seem very angry," Aislin remarked, motioning for Keg to follow as she hurried off down the corridor once more. "We saw him land in the middle of two fighting armies and destroy most of them in one go."

He has been waging a war against humanity for centuries, Salinder continued. He considers the mountain known as Hellfire Peak his home, and anything within sight belongs to him. Small groups of travelers rarely draw his attention, but entire armies battling on his doorstep will bring him down like the hammer of the gods. I suspect his bloodlust is satiated for now, so we can rest easily.

"At least this means he's not attacking my friends anymore. Are you coming?"

I'm right behind you, Salinder assured her, although when she turned to look, she saw nothing but the hallway she'd just walked through.

They approached another door and found this one just as stuck as the last. With a swift blow from the aetheric hammer, Aislin cracked it open and slowly stepped inside. Another chamber opened out before her, this one partially lit by flickering globes of light arrayed along the walls. Dust-covered benches stood around an empty central area, above which hung a chandelier draped in cobwebs. By the light of her bracelet, Aislin could see the walls and floor were scorched as if they'd been in a fire.

"Is the whole place like this?" she asked, her voice sounding small in the vast chamber.

No, Salinder remarked, his voice sounding as close as before even as she kept moving. Most of the chambers in the tower are intact, but obviously this one was destroyed by fire somehow. The Spire used to be the centre of arcane learning in the old kingdom of Hocarum, long ago. Great feats of magic were accomplished by men and women at the height of their fields. What little I've been able to glean from remnants of books and scrolls secreted around the tower indicated they were on the verge of something truly ground-breaking.

"What happened?" Aislin wondered.

I'm unsure of the exact events, but word of their discoveries reached the ears of some powerful beings, Salinder continued, his mind-voice speaking these words in a darker tone. Whatever took place resulted in all of the lands being burned by a light from above, scorching a once lush landscape and leaving this desolate wasteland in its place. Only the magical might of those who lived in this tower were able to withstand the event, at the cost of their lives.

"That's terrible," Aislin whispered, glancing at charred books on the benches, possibly sitting that way for all the long years since the calamity took place. A few of them weren't damaged and sat on tables with the dust and cobwebs brushed aside. "Have you been reading these?" she asked as Keg leaped onto a bench to prowl around.

Yes, there is much to be learned from the vast store of knowledge that remains, Salinder answered.

"Is that why you're here? To learn things?" Aislin wondered aloud.

Specific things, yes, Salinder confirmed, his voice seeming to move along the far wall of the chamber. I came here seeking answers, things modern wizards have forgotten. Ancient magicks and old secrets buried for aeons. I seek to learn more of my own nature, as I'm... I'm just not feeling like myself of late.

"What's wrong with you?"

You're certainly full of questions, Salinder remarked testily, knocking over a chair on the far side of the room. My problems are my own concern. Stay focused on your own predicament, Aislin.

"I'm sorry," Aislin answered quietly. "I just want to help."

I'm afraid my condition is a little beyond the capabilities of a child, Salinder responded with a cynical laugh. Excuse me, that probably came across a little harsher than I anticipated. I appreciate the sentiment but I will take care of myself.

"Okay, well, which way do we go now?" Aislin asked, unsure what he was talking about and feeling lost amongst the strangeness of this old place.

The stairs are to your right, on the other side of the chamber, but I must warn you that this was a place where experimental magic was tested. There are some strange effects that linger still, even after all these years.

"Like what?" Aislin asked, glancing fearfully around the room.

It's hard to explain, except to say that reality is a bit thin around here. Keep close to the wall and try not to touch anything.

Not entirely sure what he meant, Aislin crept around the edge of the room with even more caution than before. She passed by a table laden with small, curious objects of various shapes, glittering with gemstones and other shiny things. Keg gingerly moved along the tabletop, picking his way through the clutter. A sudden spark of light flashed from one of the relics, zapping the cat and making his fur stand on end. Startled, he bolted from the tabletop with a clatter of small objects scattering in his wake and ran to the middle of the room.

And then he promptly vanished.

"Keg!" Aislin cried, stumbling after him in dismay.

Wait! Salinder warned, but it was too late to stop her. As she ran to the centre of the chamber, the scene around Aislin distorted and shifted. The light from the flickering globes suddenly grew in brightness to the point that she was forced to shield her eyes from the intensity. The dull murmur of low voices could be heard all around her and, distracted by the sudden change, Aislin tripped over something. Squinting against the glare, saw that she'd run over a very startled looking Keg.

The voices quietened in an awed hush as Aislin slowly stood up, and to her amazement she could just make out dozens of bearded men in vibrantly coloured robes staring at her from around the platform upon which she stood. Not far to her right, a tall woman in a snug blue dress raised her hand towards Aislin and announced something in a strange language, which the crowd of men immediately applauded.

The change from the empty, dusty chamber to this place filled with light and laughter was startling, and although she wasn't sure what had happened, she had the distinct impression it was the same room in spite of the abrupt changes.

Keg, crouched low, hissed and spat at them which drew some laughter and even more applause from the crowd, although a few of the closest observers did inch backward a few steps. One of them even pointed at the cat and cheered, and that was enough to set him off. Tired, cranky and stressed, Keg screeched and leapt at the closest man, clamping onto his leg and giving him a thorough mauling.

The man – Aislin assumed he was a wizard – stumbled backwards crying for help while his associates stood back and laughed at his misfortune. Keg's victim, unable to dislodge the angry cat, thrashed about and backed into one of the nearby benches, knocking over a glass vial with a plume of flame coming from it. The glass shattered and spread green fire across the bench, turning the audience's amusement into sudden alarm.

"Keg, get back here!" Aislin called as the scene turned to one of chaos. Keg bolted away, darting through the throng as he returned to her side, with the lady standing on the platform nearby dismayed by the sudden turn of events. As the fire spread a little further, something on the far side of the platform near the growing flames exploded and the scene around Aislin blurred and distorted once more, and with it, the intense light faded into total darkness.

"What now?" Aislin wondered as she glanced about, the magical bracelet on her wrist the only source of light in the chamber. Curiously, the floor beneath their feet was no longer made of flagstones, but seemed to be natural rock, as if they were in a cave. The only sound she could hear was her own breathing, and at her feet Keg's fur bristled as he stared into the darkness.

Then, a pair of yellow eyes opened somewhere in the distance, staring back. A low growl rumbled through the cave, the sound of something very big and very hungry. A chill ran along Aislin's spine as the eyes slowly came closer, and she took an involuntary step backwards as her breath caught in her chest.

"Salinder?" she asked with a shaking voice, hoping to hear an answered from her unseen companion, but if he was nearby, he didn't respond. Keg hissed a warning at the approaching monster while Aislin tried to stay calm, unsure if she should run or wait and hope the strange magic would transport them someplace else yet again.

In the end, the decision was made for her. The monster narrowed its eyes and appeared on the verge of attacking them when the distortion returned and swept the cave away. Breathing a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a gasp, Aislin stared around her as the darkness was replaced by the open sky.

She and Keg still stood on the platform, but the walls of the Spire had broken, leaving jagged, charred chunks of stone remaining. Clouds of dark smoke wafted past and the clouds above were stained red at the setting of the sun, and as far as she could see, the desert sands were dotted with small fires, as if something truly gigantic had exploded in the sky and rained down upon the earth. Her legs shaking from the whole experience, Aislin slowly moved forward to take in the scene, her hair tossing about in the hot wind.

The sound of stones grinding together caught her attention. Dust and tiny rocks cascaded from above, and as she slowly turned around, Aislin heard a familiar rumble from above. The upper floors of the Spire hadn't been completely destroyed – a huge pillar of stone made from the remaining walls loomed above, like a massive finger pointing into the sky. Perched on top was the ominous shape of Leviachon, his wings folded and his chin raised as he proudly surveyed the destruction upon the land around him.

He wasn't the same as the last time Aislin had laid eyes on him. The scars along his side seemed deeper, and there were more of them. Small pieces of shining metal were strapped to his body, and in some cases, seemed to be attached directly to his scales. His left eye had been replaced by a metal plate with a blazing red light at its centre, and as lightning danced in the clouds above, tiny arcs of electricity crackled across his metal attachments.

Of all the alterations that the dragon had apparently undergone, the most startling was a large metal object strapped to his back, many times Aislin's size. It was sleek, dark, and laced with faint green lights that traced their way upon paths etched into its surface.

Dumbfounded by the ongoing experience and scared of the immense creature before her, Aislin could only stare in silence at the enormous monster until the sound of something moving nearby caught Keg's attention. He emitted a low growl and seemed ready to pounce as a hand – a human hand – appeared over the lip of the floor.

Someone was trying to climb the tower by hand, but they were having trouble finding purchase on the rough stone. Aislin held Keg back, afraid that a noise could alert the dragon to their presence as she watched the newcomer struggle. The bare skin of the person's arm was scratched, bloodied and dirty, and with considerable effort, they managed to pull themselves almost over the lip of the floor, until the damaged stone cracked and dropped away.

Aislin didn't think – she reacted on instinct, immediately leaping forward to grab hold of the arm before they could fall. Looking down, Aislin was treated to a view of the lower half of the Spire, which was in almost as poor condition as the rest. The person she had just saved was a young woman, not much older than herself, wearing leather clothing and carrying an immense firearm strapped to her back.

Although weary and disheveled, Aislin held on tightly while the woman reached up with her other hand and grabbed hold of the ledge. Combining their strength, the woman managed to pull herself up until she lay flat on the stone floor, with both of the girls panting heavily after their effort. The rest of her was as dirty and scuffed as her exposed arm and as she raised her head, Aislin saw a kind of weary resolve behind her eyes, yet there was something else in there, too.

The young woman said nothing, but stared at Aislin for a moment before Keg made a distressed mewing sound. Turning around, Aislin saw the air around him starting to distort once more with the ginger cat right in the middle of it.

"Remember this," the woman hissed at her as Aislin felt a sudden push in her back, forcing her to stumble into the distorted area of the platform and fall flat onto her hands. Gasping with pain as her palms stung from the impact, she turned around to look at the woman she'd saved but she'd already faded into darkness.

5

Spire

The windswept scene of the broken tower vanished, replaced with a familiar darkness. Aislin and Keg stood in the middle of a cave, exactly like the one they'd passed through only a minute before, the one with the monster hiding in the dark.

"This cave again? We're going backwards," Aislin whispered as she wilted to the floor, the bizarre journey taking its toll on her. Keg was similarly shaken, and when the yellow eyes reappeared from the darkness ahead, Aislin wrapped her arms around Keg and held still, watching the eyes approach and expecting this to be the end. Although she had expected its throaty growl, she nevertheless jumped when it echoed around the cave.

Aislin, hold still, came Salinder's unexpected voice as she sat there, shivering in fear. Her eyes lit up at the sound of his voice and hope swelled in her heart when, by the light of her bracelet, Aislin spied a flash of shining gold darting towards the predator's eyes.

The roar of two monsters clashing in the darkness reverberated around the cave, startling Aislin with their sudden ferocity. Little could be seen of their fight, but she could hear them rolling around, clawing and biting at one another. Half expecting him to dive into the battle, Aislin held Keg tightly and silently prayed for the strange magic to whisk them away.

Thankfully, the scene of the cave began to distort once more but just before it faded, a small golden dragon only twice her size tumbled into the light with his foe held tightly in his jaws. Aislin squealed in alarm and edged backwards as the cave disappeared, replaced with the wizard's workshop they'd come through before.

The robed men who had once crowded around to marvel at the small girl who had apparently appeared on the platform out of nowhere, now rushed around dousing fires that had spread when Keg unleashed chaos into their midst earlier. They seemed to have it under control when the small dragon and his foe rolled from the platform, destroying furniture and scattering terrified wizards to the far corners of the room. Under the blazing light from the magical globes on the walls, Aislin could see the beast itself, but wasn't sure what to make of it.

It was shaped vaguely like a huge cat, but its body was absolutely black and she could actually see through it to the room beyond, as if it were made of pure shadow. A blast of fire erupted from the dragon's maw, scorching the shadowcat's hide and causing it to emit an ear-splitting roar.

More than that, the dragon's flames licked across the benches which were covered in vials and other containers, causing a series of explosions to engulf half of the room. Aislin and Keg huddled on the floor, watching with wide eyes as the dragon tried to subdue the shadow beast amidst a room filled with flame.

Although she had suspected Salinder was a dragon, he was far smaller than she had been expecting. He was probably no taller than Carthack, and his spindly, serpentine body glistened with gold trim all the way to the tips of his wings. Finally, the distorted magic engulfed her once more and this time, Salinder and his foe were left behind.

The quiet calm of the desolate chamber this had all started in surrounded Aislin and Keg once more, dimly lit by the flickering, broken globes and with layers of dust settling on the blackened furniture. Although dazed by the experience, Aislin had the presence of mind to hurry away from the centre of the floor in case they were whisked away yet again. She leaned against the far wall to catch her breath, letting go of Keg who likewise simply lay there, a little bewildered by it all.

"Stairs," Aislin eventually mumbled, spying the stairwell not far from where she stood. "Let's go before those two show up and start fighting around here." Keg reluctantly got back on his feet and plodded along behind her, his energy spent after a morning of constant struggle. Aislin was weary and her rumbling stomach told her it was well past lunchtime. Keg heard this and mewed in sympathy, rubbing against her leg in his own way of asking for something to eat.

"I don't have any food, mate," Aislin responded tiredly. "I left my pack with the others." Resigned to moving on without Salinder's guidance, she reached the circular stairwell and descended in a tightly curving spiral until they reached the next floor. The place was dark and unnerving. Every little movement, every scuff of her soft boots over the stone floor was magnified and echoed around the chamber.

This particular room had partially collapsed, with most of the ceiling and an entire wall reduced to rubble. A cloud of dust formed as Aislin carefully moved over piles of broken stones, each of which buried the work of countless forgotten men and women. Above, large tapestries were illuminated by her light, revealing faded depictions of people and places long since vanished from the world.

When she finally reached the far wall, Aislin raised her arm to light the area and discovered a narrow path through to another stairwell which had thankfully remained clear of debris. Guessing she might have as many as a dozen floors to descend, Aislin squeezed through the gap and plodded down the stairs.

Over the next hour, Aislin and Keg journeyed through more rooms like this, filled with forgotten wonders reduced to faded ruin over the years. One room appeared to be an elegant dining hall covered in cobwebs, and when she went to investigate closer, the entire scene, table, chairs and all, suddenly vanished. The strange magicks once worked within this place were active still and it served as a reminder of just how dangerous the Spire could be.

More than once, she was forced to dig through piles of stone to uncover a way forward and she gave silent thanks that she still had the aetheric hammer on hand to do the hard work. Without it, she would surely have been trapped here. Aislin had just cracked open a heavy door when, curiously, she caught the distinctive scent of something cooking. The smell was mouth-watering but she couldn't figure out what it was or where it was coming from.

Keg had detected the aroma too, for his ears picked up and he trotted ahead silently, but with a clear purpose in mind. Aislin was suspicious and almost expected some sort of monster ahead, yet she couldn't ignore the lure of a hot meal. She cautioned Keg to be careful and then whispered "Nox," to her bracelet, leaving her in almost total darkness once more.

Aislin used her hands to quietly feel her way to the bottom of another stairwell, where she leaned against the wall and peered into the next chamber. A faint blue light lit the far wall of the room, though she couldn't see its source. There was a faint sound of sizzling meat from roughly the same direction and Aislin felt her stomach rumble at the aroma.

She resisted the urge to rush into the room, guessing that the presence of food meant someone had to be nearby. Aislin waited for the better part of a minute before her instincts were proven correct, for she spotted a tall, thin person moving in front of the blue light. In any other place, she might walk in and say hello, but here, within the confines of the strangest place she'd ever seen, Aislin knew she had to be careful.

With Sliver in hand, she slowly crept forward, making sure to avoid stepping on anything that might give away her presence. In the half-light of the chamber, she could only make out the faint shadows of bulky objects between her and the strange person in the blue light, forcing her to feel her way around the edges while keeping low to avoid detection.

With Keg only a few steps behind her, Aislin gradually drew closer to the strange person. She could hear quiet movement of things being placed on a bench and, risking a peek over a large obstruction, saw the person moving around an area cleared of clutter. Although it couldn't be considered a home, the space seemed comfortable and inviting, with plush furniture arranged alongside a wide bookshelf laden with books salvaged from the Spire's desolate ruins.

Aislin had made it most of the way towards the clearing before needing to take a breather, for the effort required to move through the forest of junk was exhausting. Reluctant to let her guard down, she peered over the top of a large, flat piece of stone to observe.

The figure was very thin and tall, quite possibly as tall as Carthack. It appeared to be a man, wearing a tight black robe with a flared collar that came right up to his pointed chin. It may have just been a trick of the light, but his skin appeared genuinely blue, and his head was devoid of hair. The strange man busied himself with cooking his meal, but mere moments after Aislin's head crested the obstruction, he whirled around to look in her general direction.

With a stifled gasp, Aislin ducked down low and held her breath, uncertain if she'd been spotted. More than this, she'd caught a glimpse of his eyes and was disturbed to find they were glowing a bright green. This was no man, but another of the tower's strange residents.

She kept perfectly still, waiting to hear something over the sizzling of the meat that would indicate he'd turned his attention away. With her senses heightened in the darkness, Aislin heard the faint scuffle of feet on the stone surface, approaching her hiding place. Certain she was about to be discovered, she quickly crept around the big chunk of stone and took cover behind an old wooden cabinet. Keg followed and crawled beneath it, just as silent as her.

Risking a peek, Aislin looked back to where she'd been a few moments before and saw the green-eyed man was looking over the top of the stone – if she hadn't moved, she would certainly have been found. It was obvious now that the longer she stayed here, the greater the chance of her being discovered. Aislin needed to move on, but she was so hungry and had no idea if or when she'd be able to eat again.

Steeling her nerves, she felt around for something small on the ground and found a small piece of rock. Turning around, she tossed it as far as she could, and moments later heard it clattering off the far wall. The response was instant – the man turned and with hardly any sign of movement whatsoever, darted in the direction of the sound.

Seizing her chance, Aislin moved as quickly and quietly as she could, back around the big chunk of stone and into the clear area where he had been preparing the meal. The sizzling meat smelled delicious and, following her nose, Aislin soon discovered the source. A large lizard of some kind was on a spit, turning over a small, round piece of metal with blue fire blazing within. There was enough heat to cook and see by, though the odd colour gave everything here a garish, surreal quality.

On the bench next to the cooking area, she noticed a number of books that were open, as if he'd been reading while preparing his meal. With Sliver at the ready, she grabbed the handle of the spit but before she could take the meat, a cold blue hand seized her arm and spun her around.

Aislin screamed as the creature's green eyes bore into her, and a loud hiss escaped his thin lips, revealing sharp teeth. The fingers on his hands were long, too long, with more joints than a hand should possess, tipped with long claws instead of fingernails. Instinctively, she pulled away from the monster but he held her firm, snarling and snapping at her in what she could only assume was some bizarre language. He didn't have much of a chance to speak however, before a snarling ginger tomcat sprang through the air and landed on his head.

Screeching like a wounded pig, the man flailed about while Keg scratched and bit at his face. Wisps of glowing blue smoke wafted from his wounds and while he had been taken by surprise, his reprisal was swift. His clawed hands swept through the air and slashed the cat's side, forcing him to let go and drop to the floor.

Suddenly outraged, Aislin snapped out of her terrified trance and put Sliver to work. She lacked any sort of fighting skill, but slashed back and forth with the deadly blade until she hit something. Her opponent raised his hands to fend her off, seemingly unconcerned until she scored a nasty hit. Surprisingly, the monster howled in agony as blue smoke gushed from the long gash along his arm, and then without warning, simply vanished in a flash of violet light.

Her heart hammering in her chest, Aislin fought to catch her breath as she quickly turned around, fearful the monster was still somewhere nearby. Unable to spot it, she went to Keg and even in this light, she could tell he was bleeding badly. The monster's talons had gashed his side in several places, and his rapid breathing suggested he was in pain.

"I wish I had some of Jaz's salve on me," she muttered, tearing away one of the sleeves from her dress. It was long enough to wrap around Keg's body a couple of times, where she tied it off as a makeshift bandage. It was quickly stained with blood, and she could only hope he'd hold on long enough to find help.

"My brave little cat," she said with a wan smile, giving him a reassuring pat on the head. "Always risking yourself to help me. Come on, we need to get out of here before he comes back." Keg got on his feet and slowly followed her, as loyal as ever in spite of his injuries. Summoning her magical light, Aislin looked around and spotted the stairs not far away.

After fetching the sizzling meat from the rack, they slowly headed for the stairwell and carefully made their way down, stopping halfway to eat before it went cold. Aislin had never eaten lizard before, but remarkably, it tasted a lot like chicken. Keg managed to eat what she offered him, but his appetite seemed to have diminished. Aislin gently patted his head, trying not to worry and after finishing their meal, she checked his bandage and set off again, knowing full well they had to find the others soon or be lost in this horrible place.

The sound of roaring beasts echoing in the distance put them on edge once again, and Aislin recognised the familiar growls of Salinder and his shadowy foe, still battling it out somewhere behind them.

"We're not getting involved in this again," Aislin assured Keg. "Come on, let's find the stairs." With their goal clear, they moved through a small room with only a few piles of broken wood within and found another set of stairs, only to discover these went up. Dismayed at the sudden turn of luck, Aislin briefly considered turning around when the sound of fighting came closer. Suspecting they were conducting a running battle, Aislin resigned herself to heading back upstairs again.

Keg could only move slowly and Aislin wasn't going to leave him behind, so as they ambled up the sharply curving stairs, she knew it was only a matter of time before trouble caught up with them. She noticed large cracks on the outer wall of the stairwell, through which shafts of daylight streamed in. Curiously, the light seemed to be shining up towards the ceiling instead of the floor, and when they reached the next floor, several windows on the far side of the room were lit by sunlight coming in at a similar angle.

Much like other parts of the Spire, the floor ahead was strewn with furniture and tools, except here everything was upside-down, as if the previous residents had placed all of the room's contents this way on purpose before leaving. Perplexed at the oddity of it all, Aislin headed towards the closest window to find her bearings and gasped in shock when she looked outside to see the sprawling red earth above and the clear blue sky below.

Tilting her head backward, Aislin stared at the ceiling and wondered if it was actually the floor, and tried to figure out if it was she that was upside down, not the tower. The growl of the two battling monsters interrupted her train of thought and she whirled around, expecting Salinder and the shadowcat to arrive at any moment. The sound of furniture smashing came from the stairway she'd used, so Aislin frantically looked around for another way out.

Aware Keg could no longer run, she picked him up and staggered across to the other side of the room, almost stumbling from exhaustion as she tried to put some more distance between them and the impending fight. Despairing at her situation, she heard the distinctive echo of hurried footsteps approaching from just ahead and stopped in her tracks, thinking for a moment that she'd finally run out of places to hide. Then, to her immense relief and surprise, she spied Gordon and the rest of her companions arriving from a stairwell above her.

"Should we really be running towards the sound of snarling beasts?" Madelyn warily asked. Their weapons were at the ready and they looked around for signs of whatever was making the racket, but had yet to look above them.

"Aislin might be up here someplace," Gordon answered while glaring along the pipe of his longarm. "We're not leavin' without 'er."

"Up here!" Aislin cried hoarsely, startling her friends when they looked up and saw her standing on the ceiling.

"Oh my," Jaz remarked in wide-eyed astonishment.

"Ace, how'd ya get up there?" Gordon called.

"It's a long story -" Aislin started to reply, when the shadow beast emerged from the stairway she'd arrived from and roared at them. A heartbeat later, Salinder ploughed into its side, sinking his teeth into its hide.

"Get back!" Gordon shouted to Aislin while aiming carefully at the brawling creatures.

"Don't shoot the dragon," she called back, wondering if his weapon could even harm either of them. Salinder pushed the much larger beast back a little, lashing at its shadowy hide with his golden claws before rapidly pulling back with a stroke of his wings. The shadowcat was left in the open as it recovered, and Gordon took the opportunity to squeeze the trigger.

Aislin covered Keg's ears as the weapon went off with a deafening roar, shrouding him in smoke as the monster was struck directly. It let out a strangled yelp and promptly vanished, not unlike the strange, tall man Aislin had briefly fought. The sudden silence that descended was as startling as the firearm's explosive shot.

"How did you do that?" Aislin asked.

"Rock salt," Gordon replied, blowing the smoke from the tip of his weapon. "Good fer cleansin' bad spirits. We ran into a couple of 'em down below. I figured the place might be full of 'em, but never thought I'd see one that big. You okay?"

"Hungry and tired, but I'm alright," Aislin answered. "Keg's been wounded though, he needs help, if I can figure out how to get down to you. Are you wondering how I'm standing on the ceiling?"

"It's not the weirdest thing we've seen today," Jaz remarked, unable to hide her excitement over discovering such strange magic.

"What was that damnable creature?" Madelyn asked.

"I'm more concerned about yer new friend," Gordon added while reloading his weapon. Salinder, sensing he was the new topic of interest, had retreated to the stairwell. "Gettin' kinda sick of dealing with dragons. Is this one a friend o' the big one outside?"

No, Salinder answered in their minds, if anything, I'm his blood enemy.

"A cute little thing like you?" Jaz asked, evidently amused by this statement.

Don't be fooled by my size. I have defeated far worse than him in my time.

"Well, I guess we'll just let you fly out there and give that giant monster a thrashing he'll never forget, hmm?" Madelyn taunted.

Inside this tower, we are protected from his wrath," Salinder responded calmly. You should be more concerned about what lies within.

"I think we'll be fine," Gordon retorted, hefting his longarm in a show of strength.

Then my work here is done, have a pleasant journey.

"Wait," Aislin implored him, carefully placing Keg on the ground to rest her arms. "How do we get out of the tower?"

Go back down the way you came, Salinder answered simply. When you run out of stairs, use the door.

"We'll have to wait for that monster outside to leave," Madelyn added thoughtfully.

Be prepared to wait a long time. He is patient.

"Why does that voice sound familiar?" Gordon muttered to nobody in particular.

"We can't hang around," Madelyn pointed out. "There are events happening out in the world we need to stop." Carthack, who had been silent during all of this, moved to stand directly beneath Aislin and Keg and reached up with his hands. His arms were still a few feet short, even when she reached out to him while standing on the tips of her toes.

Aislin, move to the stairwell to your left. Carthack, follow her and be ready to catch.

She turned and saw the other stairs, which appeared to go down from her perspective while to the others, they would appear be going up to the next floor. Aislin did as Salinder suggested and, being careful to match her position with Carthack's, stepped into the stairwell and suddenly felt her world spin around as she fell into the big man's arms.

"Welcome back," he grunted with a smile. Keg, who had followed Aislin as far as the stairs, hesitated on the edge, unable to fathom what had just happened. The magic that increased his intellect wasn't quite enough to allow him to grasp the strange magic and he resorted to meowing in protest.

"Just move forward and we'll catch you," Aislin encouraged him. Reluctantly, the cat inched his paws forward and sure enough, he fell to earth, spinning reflexively in mid-air to land on Aislin feet-first.

"One problem down, one to go," Jaz remarked.

"Wait, how you know my name?" Carthack rumbled to the unseen Salinder. Aislin suddenly realised nobody had said it aloud while speaking with the small dragon.

...Magic? Salinder eventually answered. Never mind. Head back down to the lower chambers and you'll be safer. I will hunt down the shadowcat and make sure it's sent back to where it came from.

"But Gordon destroyed it already," Aislin pointed out as she alighted on the ground beside Carthack, with Keg in her arms.

It was merely disrupted, not destroyed, Salinder warned. Creatures such as that come from a place called the Aether, and it will take more than rock salt to finish it for good. You've probably just made it angry.

"I'm good at that," Gordon grunted, still satisfied with his handiwork.

"Is there another way out of here other than the front door?" Madelyn asked, unsure where to look, for Salinder's voice seemed to be coming out of nowhere.

There aren't any secret tunnels below the Spire, if that's what you're asking, Salinder replied, his golden snout poking out from around the corner of the stairwell above.

"The place is full of old magic," Jaz added. "Surely there's something around here that can whisk us away?"

It depends where you want to be 'whisked' to - ask Aislin, Salinder suggested, with all eyes moving to look at her expectantly. She took a minute to explain her recent adventures through the tower while Jaz applied some of her salve to Keg's wounded flank. He snarled and spat as she worked, but eventually calmed down as the magical salve began to work.

Aislin continued explaining her experience with the strange location shifts she had experienced on the platform, but left out the part about saving the young woman from falling to her death from the broken tower. There was something disturbing about that entire scene, especially the red dragon evidently victorious over the surrounding land.

"Right, so, let's not go that way," Madelyn suggested once Aislin had finished.

There is another way, Salinder responded, slowly emerging from the stairwell when it became clear he wasn't going to be shot. You wish to travel to Aurumgaard, yes? I encountered a device which could take you close to that city.

"An arcane teleport? Now that's the way to travel," Jaz answered with barely concealed excitement.

"I thought you were scared of this place," Madelyn remarked with a scathing glance.

"Well yes, but since we're here..."

"Pathetic," Madelyn groaned. "Anything to find some more dangerous toys, hm?"

"Is this portal thing dangerous?" Gordon asked Salinder, ignoring the two girls' sparring.

It should be safe enough, provided I can recall how to activate it, came the reply. Getting there is the challenge. The portal resides on one of the Spire's highest levels, and the only way to reach it is to go floor by floor, through abandoned magical experiments gone wild and other hazards.

"While I'm all for checking that out, I think I might be done-in for the day," Aislin remarked, failing to stifle a yawn, which Keg promptly mimicked. "Please tell me you still have food. That roast lizard was a little scrawny."

"Plenty," Gordon chuckled, handing Aislin her backpack, which she opened eagerly to reveal her stash of bread and cheese, and the last apple remaining from the supplies taken from the Kurhanir camp.

"We rest and eat here," Carthack rumbled. "Easy defence."

"Just before we're done," Madelyn interrupted as Aislin took out some dried venison for Keg, "I have a question for the dragon. You helped Aislin when she needed it, and you seem willing to help us. What are your intentions?"

My original intent was to come here for solitude and to study, but that's all ruined, Salinder grumbled. You're right, in that I don't have to help you. I'd prefer it if you just left of your own accord, but I have no wish to see you fall victim to Leviachon's wrath. I am not so far removed from the world that I would send you to your deaths, either outside or within these dark halls. When we set out tomorrow morning, I wish to hear more about your recent journey and why you're making it.

"Consider it a deal," Gordon answered as he laid out his bedroll. Though the sun wasn't quite touching the horizon, they'd all endured a tiring day and the extra rest would do them good.

"Here, take this," Aislin said to Jaz as she handed the aetheric hammer back. "It came in very handy up there."

"Thanks, I missed it," she responded gratefully, checking the device to make sure it was still working. "Like you, we came across a few doors that just wouldn't budge."

"How did you get through?"

"We used one o' these," Gordon explained, hiking his thumb at Carthack. Aislin stifled a laugh and suddenly realised she'd almost lost her friends forever. Impulsively, she reached out and embraced the dwarven engineer, fighting back the tears that welled in her eyes.

"It's alright lass, I was never gonna leave without you," Gordon awkwardly assured her, unused to such displays of affection. "Yer father'd never forgive me if ye never came home." Aislin didn't relent until she was all cried out then, feeling a bit self-conscious, went to Keg's side to check on his progress.

Before long, they were set up on the ground near the windows breathing the fresh desert air. Carthack set up a small fire as he was sure the Spire's stone floors held enough heat to keep them warm through the night. Salinder left to hunt his shadowy enemy once more, leaving them to get some rest.

With Keg already sound asleep nestled alongside, Aislin noticed Jaz holding something up before her. The faint glint of a golden chain from around her neck was visible in the dim light, connecting to a small, pale stone of unremarkable appearance.

"I miss you," Jaz whispered before placing it carefully back into her bodice. Aislin recalled it was a gift from Jaz's parents, presented to her just before she set out on her journey north. Seeing her reminisce about home and family made Aislin think of her own father, and all her other friends back in Bracksford and for a brief moment before she drifted off to sleep, she hoped they were okay.

6

### Strategy

A young Kurhanir man, barely more than eighteen years of age stood at attention while Maximilian read the contents of the message he'd delivered. Yuri, seated on a comfortable sofa nearby, incessantly drummed his fingers on the armrest, a sure sign he was far less patient than he otherwise appeared.

"Thank you private, that will be all," Max instructed the young soldier, making an effort to keep his tone measured after he finished reading. The soldier snapped a salute, turned and marched out of the office.

"What news, sir?" Yuri inquired, leaning forward in anticipation as soon as the door closed. Max delicately folded the note and then slowly closed his fist around it, crushing it with barely controlled rage before hurling it into the rubbish bin in disgust. He took a moment to steady himself against one of the chairs, which he gripped with white-knuckled tension, his mind whirling at the possibilities before suddenly turning towards the door and taking his longcoat from a hook.

"Sir, where are you going?" Yuri asked, bewildered at the major's abrupt change.

"This news changes everything," Max growled. "The Grand Duke must be personally informed at once. Are you coming?"

"What's wrong?" Yuri pressed.

"I'll explain when we're on the move," Max responded without waiting for his lieutenant to decide. Yuri, sensing the urgency of the moment, quickly grabbed his own coat and hurried to catch up. Maximilian left instructions with his staff to continue the fort's operations for a few days before threading his way through the maze of corridors towards the main courtyard.

"Major, what is the matter?" Yuri inquired in hushed tones as they left the confines of the fort and entered a horse-drawn carriage reserved for command staff. The day was clear and bright, in direct contrast to the mood of the two men as Max took a seat opposite his lieutenant and banged on the roof to signal the driver to get moving.

"Our northern expedition. They're dead Yuri, all but three of them," the major muttered as the coach clattered along the cobblestone road, passing dozens of soldiers practising close-quarters fighting. The lieutenant stared in blank shock at the news for a moment before speaking.

"Captain Zarubin's force?" he asked in a dreadfully quiet voice, drawing a slight nod from Max. "How?"

"They encountered resistance in the desert," the major explained bitterly. "Our scouts had reported large numbers of primitive horsemen plying the wastes, little threat to us. Still, Zarubin was instructed to negotiate passage through their territory and if that failed, to simply push through with whatever force was required. They were on the verge of clashing when both armies were assailed by a dragon, Yuri. The reports from the survivors state that it simply appeared in mid-air, right above the battlefield and ploughed into the ranks of both forces."

"My cousin..." Yuri responded with a thick voice. "Was he one of the survivors?"

"I'm afraid not," Max answered, concealing his emotions. "Only those on the outer edges were unscathed by the beast's fire. I'm sorry for your loss." The lieutenant nodded absently and remained silent for a while, mourning the death of his cousin.

Knowing how close their small kith was, Max knew it would be keenly felt amongst their entire family once word reached them. He felt for the man, for he had lost friends and comrades in wartime and, even if Yuri was a spy, he was still a fellow countryman. Then, the sadness vanished, replaced by a hardness in Yuri's expression.

"I know that look," Max remarked grimly, drawing the lieutenant out of his introspection. "I've seen it in the mirror too many times. You seek vengeance for the loss of your family."

"May I speak openly, sir?" Yuri quietly asked, drawing a silent nod of approval from Max. "King Osric will request more replacements so his campaign in the north can continue. When you send them north – and I suspect you will have no choice in this matter - I wish to accompany them. We will divert across the desert and slay the dragon with a storm of thunder."

"You would risk the lives of hundreds of men to sate your thirst for blood?"

"Eliminating these monsters will benefit the entire region," Yuri pointed out, remaining calm despite a flush of red rising in his cheeks. "We have the means and the will, and I dare say vanquishing a dragon would go a long way to convincing both our enemies and allies of our strength."

"Few bear a stronger desire to see dragons forever gone from this land than I," Max answered, gazing through the window at verdant fields. "Few remain, yet they are the toughest, the cruellest and the most cunning. When we choose to move against them, we will do so united, bringing the full force of our military to bear. This winged devil destroyed an entire battalion in one swift stroke – anything less than a total commitment on our part will be a waste of lives."

"You would have me do nothing?" Yuri bristled, sitting forward on his seat. "The honour of my entire kith is at stake. I will not stand for this."

"There is no dishonour in losing to such a creature. It is like losing someone to an earthquake or flood, a natural disaster that could not have been stopped. We are soldiers of the Kurhanir, Yuri. Duty comes first, always. One day we will rule this entire island, coast to coast and on that day, we will have our vengeance."

"That day is unlikely to come in my lifetime."

"It may happen sooner than you think," Max suggested, "though that depends on what happens over the course of the next day."

"You speak of King Osric's interference in our plans," Yuri remarked, settling back down in his seat.

"His presence requires a delicate approach. I have no objection to aiding the man, so long as it does not compromise our operations." He had reason to believe many in the upper ranks of the duchy also despised Osric, though Max kept this information to himself.

"He has given us -"

"Don't try and defend the man, or label him as some kind of saint," Max interrupted hotly. "He gave us these weapons to ensure our loyalty, and because he didn't have the foresight to keep hold of his own kingdom. He needs us, possibly more than we need him."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Maybe. Enough, Yuri, I need to think," Max sighed, sensing he may have said too much already. The two men settled in for a long journey as the coach jostled about on the rough country road, giving Max ample time for contemplation. The intervention of a monster such as a dragon could not have been foreseen, yet it reinforced the dangers of splitting their forces up at this critical time.

Changing the duke's mind was not an altogether difficult task, as he was known amongst the military as lacking any really grasp of strategy and depended on his generals to make the important decisions. His wife, the Grand Duchess was considered the more intelligent of the pair, yet she had little direct influence over her husband and was forced to work in the shadows, much like her hidden message to Max at their last meeting.

Osric's meddling was proving to be a thorn in Max's side. The fallen King was clearly an expert at manipulation and, with his future as monarch of Tulsone at stake, he was holding nothing back. Though Max had not been able to stop the collaboration, he hoped to guide them on a less unfavourable path.

From the fortress of Nordgrenze, the capitol was a full day's journey by coach and each man spent it in quiet contemplation. Maximilian went over and over what he was going to say when they arrived, putting real thought into alternative plans and contingencies his ruler would demand to hear.

He paid Kurhain's lush countryside little heed as they rolled past, his mind concerned with weightier matters. Only when the coach stopped for fresh horses at the small city of Aussict did they step out for some fresh air and a bite to eat. Unfortunately, the air proved to be anything but fresh and both men spared a few moments to stare at great plumes of smoke rising above the city.

"They've stepped up firearm production," Max remarked. "I expect they'll actually meet their monthly quota this time."

"The price of progress," Yuri remarked, his face conveying distaste at being forced to breathe the miasma. There weren't many walking about in the thick atmosphere, as most able-bodied people were employed in the production of their new weapons or at the very least, supporting the workers with food and other common services. The few they did see were pale and wan from overwork in the poor conditions.

Eager to be gone as quickly as possible, Max and Yuri purchased some pastries from a local bakery and headed back to the coach, which was almost ready to depart. The lieutenant intrigued him, for while his loyalties were questionable, he seemed as naïve as any other junior officer he'd met.

"You grew up in the town of Sicher, did you not?" Max asked between mouthfuls of his mincemeat pie, curious to prod more information out of the man.

"You've been checking up on me," Yuri answered with a raised eyebrow.

"You were assigned to my command without my express approval, Lieutenant. Of course I did my due diligence," Max pointed out. "Good hunting land around Sicher, I hear. Ideal candidates for military life, yet few of your kith enlist."

"Most have more sense than that. My people outnumbered all others during the liberation of these lands and we paid the highest price for that privilege. Most of them are content to live a simple existence, knowing full well we lack the political connections to achieve any worthwhile rank."

"Do I detect a hint of resentment in your voice?" Max asked.

"I am grateful for everything the State has bestowed upon me," Yuri answered with practised calm. "I wish only to serve for the greater good of all Kurhain."

"You won't score any points with me for pandering, Yuri," the major laughed cynically as the driver signalled he was ready to depart. "Save your praise for when we're standing before the general staff."

Both men climbed aboard and settled in for the remainder of their journey to the capitol. Though he tried to hide it, Max had learned more about Yuri in their brief discussion, enough to know there was a deeply buried desire for recognition within the Khoda, his ancient kith. Enough to believe the lieutenant could have made a deal to further his military career.

The major knew he had enough enemies in the upper ranks to make what sounded like a conspiracy theory a genuine concern, however there was nothing more he could do at this time but stay vigilant, and as always, do his duty. He remained quiet for the rest of the journey as his mind returned to matters of greater importance. By the time the spires of Ostermacht came into view, his mood had turned sour once more – defeat had a way of doing that to even the best of leaders.

The sun touched the horizon as the coach clattered along the narrow paved streets on the final leg of its journey, with the ducal palace as the ultimate destination. Ostermacht used to be a major city of the Ramidian empire and once conquered, became the capitol city of the fledgling nation of Kurhain.

Fully half of its ancient buildings had been levelled during the siege before the regional governor had raised the white flag in surrender. Industrious and full of ambition, the city's new owners had quickly rebuilt that which had been knocked down, but with modern architectural styles taken from their homeland.

Thus, Ostermacht was a curious blend of ancient, rough-hewn stone buildings mixed with far more sophisticated designs, in a way not entirely dissimilar to the blend of cultures existing together within the Kurhanir population.

Hours of sitting in the cramped coach did nothing for Maximilian's disposition and when they finally came to a halt, he had to stretch and shake his head to wake himself up. The white stone walls of the palace towered over him, with the broken statue of the Emperor of Ramidia still standing in front of the wide steps, serving as a reminder that all empires eventually fall.

"I envy King Osric, if only for his ability to travel that distance in the blink of an eye," Yuri remarked as he rubbed his sore neck.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Lieutenant," Max growled, glancing around to make sure nobody had overheard it. The area was relatively clear as young men and women went about the palace grounds, lighting street lanterns erected along the road. The major spied a palace functionary approaching down the palace stairs and strode forward to meet him.

"Major, this is an unexpected pleasure," the man announced when they were close enough to converse. He was an older gentleman with white hair and a neatly combed beard, who walked with a slight limp. His left arm hung in a sling by his side and swayed slightly as he moved, as if he had no feeling in it at all - a legacy of his years in military service.

"Predictability is an overrated concept, Councillor Lorrin," Max responded with a dash of humour, reaching out to exchange a firm handshake. "I have important news from the north and must speak with His Grace immediately."

"The Grand Duke is in a meeting with the general staff and cannot be disturbed," Lorrin warned, though Max hadn't paused on his ascent.

"Good, that will save me having to summon them," he said over one shoulder. Ignoring the look of disdain on the old councillor's face, Max entered the gilded double-door of the palace and immediately turned down a marble hallway to a part of the palace he was familiar with. His booted steps echoed throughout the hall, soon accompanied by Yuri's as he hurried to catch up. Beautiful paintings and fragile little tables lined the hall, though the major paid them little heed.

"May I ask what you're planning, sir?" the lieutenant asked in a hushed voice.

"I'm simply going to tell them the truth," Max answered.

"Well, there are many truths, Major," Yuri warned. "Perhaps you might choose one a little more appetising to your audience?"

"We shall see," Max grated, despising politics in all its forms. An ornate door at the end of the fancy hallway was their destination. A guard dressed in a crisp uniform stood by it and, upon recognising the major's approach, opened the door while saluting and allowed Max to stride through with Yuri hot on his heels. Before him was a chamber lit by elaborate chandeliers, with small tables arranged around a large central table, upon which was a collection of maps and markers generals used to keep track of their forces.

The dull murmur of hushed discussion could be heard, for around the table were half a dozen men in uniforms decorated with the regalia of rank, the Grand Duke's generals who did not appear overly pleased to see Maximilian storm into their midst. Lothar himself was amongst the group, drinking from a tall glass containing a dark red liquor.

In a nearby chair sat Osric, appearing rather bored from what must have been a long meeting. His mere presence told Max that they had been discussing some grander schemes the major wasn't privy to.

"Major Strauss, we did not expect to see you here again so soon," Lothar said in greeting, his speech slightly slurred as though he'd already had a few glasses.

"You must have been travelling all day," Osric remarked with a knowing look.

"Quite so, you must be famished," the Grand Duke agreed. "Perhaps you would care to refresh yourselves first? We're about to adjourn for the evening meal."

"Your Grace, you'll forgive my direct manner but that can wait, for I have urgent news from the north," Max answered with a slight bow of respect, pointedly ignoring Osric in the process. He recited the message he'd received to the collective shock of the gathered generals. Especially unnerving was the apparent intervention of a dragon, which turned their quiet discussion into a shouting match.

"Why were our forces unable to dispatch the monster?" one asked.

"Was this a trap? How could you have allowed two hundred men to simply walk to their deaths?" complained another, slamming his fist onto the table to emphasise his point. Only when Lothar raised a hand for silence was Max able to hear himself think once more.

"It is likely the dragon's fire detonated the powder, resulting in an explosion of immense magnitude," Max grated, unable to keep his emotions in check at the thought of so many countrymen perishing at once. "This was, and remains a key flaw in the adoption of these new weapons," he added, glancing briefly at Osric.

"Gentlemen, please," the fallen King said as he set aside his glass and stood. "If I had known your plan was to fight dragons, I certainly wouldn't have suggested investing so heavily in a weapon vulnerable to fire. The truth is that these are rare creatures, with only a handful remaining in the world and as such, this incident, while regrettable, is an isolated case and should not be used to sway your perspective on the plans we have laid out."

"The loss of hundreds of men should not be so easily dismissed," Max retorted.

"They can be replaced easily enough. The grim reality is that it's a soldier's job to die for their country," Osric said with conviction.

"No, it is the job of our soldiers to make the enemy die for theirs," Max countered.

"I'm sorry, but it sounds as though you're disappointed with my generous gifts," Osric remarked with a false laugh of confusion.

"That's not what I'm saying," Max answered, struggling to keep his exasperation in check after the long day of travel.

"I'm glad to hear you say that. These weapons will allow us to conquer all of Feydwiir in time."

"The Kurhanir have done just fine for decades without them," Max pointed out, glancing at the assembled generals to drive his point home. "I think you underestimate us."

"This is turning into the largest campaign beyond our borders in twenty years," General Wolcott insisted. His florid face matched his unsteady temperament, but his chest was decorated with more medals for valour than the rest of his associates combined. "Major Strauss is too inexperienced to deal with strategy on this level and I insist he be replaced at once."

"Major Strauss is a hero, sir," the Grand Duke snapped, "and his strategies were enough to prevent the loss of our western territories, in spite of your best efforts." The general flushed a brighter shade of angry red and fell silent, while Lothar himself calmed down after his uncharacteristic outburst. "Enough bickering, gentlemen. We need to devise an alternate plan that ensures our esteemed ally receives the reinforcements he is due."

"If I may, Your Grace," Lord General Clancy Graham politely interjected. He was the oldest of the general staff, sporting the grey-streaked mutton-chops of the country's founder that Max secretly despised. "I do question the reason for sending our forces through the desert in the first place. There are other, less dangerous routes to the north."

Lord Clancy was the one general Max actually liked, if only for his unfailingly polite nature and calm temperament, especially when devising strategy. It also helped that he was Maximilian's former commanding officer for most of his career, and one of the men who'd suggested Max for the role of northern commander.

He stepped over to the large map table and sifted through the pile of sheets until he found the right one and spread it across the centre so everyone could see it.

"Danger is a relative term, sir," Max suggested. "There is no easy way north, given the current conditions." He traced a finger along the map until it pointed at Ostermacht. "Like it or not, the other nations of this land consider us invaders. Eight decades of war with our neighbours have cemented this in the minds of nearly every nation, and not without justification."

"Directly between us and the Kingdom of Tulsone lies The Golden Peaks, with the ancient mountain fortress of Aurumgaard controlling the only path through. The long-lived dwarves have not forgotten the loss of their Ramidian trading partners who used to live within the borders of what is now Kurhain, and attempts to use diplomacy to restore good relations have thus far failed."

"To the west of the mountain range lies the swamps of Clydach, and I don't need to tell anyone here how difficult it is to move a large armed force and all of their supplies through such terrain. Additionally, the Clydachi hate us even more than the dwarves, so we'd have to fight every step of the way in unfavourable terrain. This is simply not an option – fighting a war on two fronts is dangerous, fighting a war on three would be madness."

"This leaves but two options," Max continued, tracing his finger back to Kurhain. "One of them was to send reinforcements to the north by sea, but after decades of sustained conflict on land, our fleet is simply inadequate to move such large numbers, particularly as we may have to contend with the Aielish navy, the finest in all of Feydwiir. Some of our vessels even date back to the time of the Liberation, and while they were more than a match for ancient Ramidian ships, they are simply outclassed by modern designs."

"The final option therefore, was to risk a crossing of the Hocarum Desert. We had to keep far enough to the east so as not to draw the attention of Aurumgaard, while also keeping watch for the barbarians who live in the wastes. Our scouts reported their movements and weapons were no threat to us, and Captain Zarubin was even given orders to negotiate peaceful passage if possible."

"Then the dragon happened," one of the other generals snapped.

"It did indeed," Max confirmed. "I agree with King Osric on this matter – the appearance of that monster is an aberration, not something we could have planned for, nor one we should consider having to deal with again, provided we stay clear of that region. Unfortunately, this leaves no clear option moving forward."

"What do you advise?" Lothar quietly asked.

"Honestly? We should delay our northern expedition until we have the time to secure the region through force of arms." He made it no further than 'delay' before Osric and half the general staff erupted in contentious protest. "Trying to assault two countries simultaneously was always going to be fraught with risk, but the loss of several hundred highly trained men and their expensive equipment puts us under even more pressure."

"I strongly advise you not to so lightly put our agreement aside," Osric warned. "We can find other ways north, Your Grace. May we speak in private?'

"In a moment," Lothar answered, his attention firmly upon Maximilian. "Give me the room, gentlemen. The generals glanced at each other before bowing to Lothar, then filed out of the room. Osric gave Max a chilling look as he strolled past, leaving the major no doubt as to where he stood with their ally. Once the room was clear, Yuri closed the door on his way out and Lothar turned to Max and gestured for him to take a seat.

"With respect Your Grace, I've been sitting all day," he answered, feeling a headache rising behind his eyes.

"As you wish. I'll keep this brief, as we both have other engagements to attend. Lord General Graham recommended you for this post and I must say, you do not disappoint."

"The Lord General has always been a good judge of character," Max responded with a subtle joke buried somewhere in his words. It went over the Grand Duke's head, of course.

"I am starting to respect your experience and your character, but I need you to show more respect for our ally. This collaboration is more than just an exchange of weapons for military support. You said it yourself – we are almost universally reviled in this land, and we sorely need allies if we are to survive. Restoring Osric to his throne will help us win this war and truly establish our nation as worthy of respect."

"Even if he flaunts his sorcery right before our eyes?" Max pointed out.

"He refrains from using it in public since I warned him that I couldn't stop an angry mob with pitchforks running him down," Lothar explained with an inebriated smile. "As for the rest, well, I have contingencies in place should he attempt to use his power against us, but I need you to be more... accommodating."

"We have too much at stake to be coddling him," Max protested in hushed tones. "We have at our disposal the finest military in an age, yet we squander their potential in service to his ambition."

"For a time," Lothar assured him. "When we have re-conquered Tulsone and placed him on the throne, we will turn our attention to the south, knowing that we have made a powerful ally in the north."

"So you're delaying the assault upon Ramidia," Max surmised with disdain.

"It is unavoidable, but we will deal with our old adversaries as soon as possible," Lothar said with finality. "You should go and get something to eat, Major. You've had a long day. The generals and I will come up with an alternate way to the north, and I'll run it past you in the next few days. Can you stay for a while?"

"My officers will continue training the men in my absence," Max answered. "I can remain here for a day or two if required."

"Good, I'll send for you tomorrow night," Lothar said as he headed for the door. "We're having a little party and I'd like you to attend. Enjoy your evening, Major."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Max replied, trying not to reveal his distaste for such affairs. Once the Grand Duke had departed, Maximilian headed for the door and found Yuri awaiting him outside.

"Shall I make preparations for our departure tomorrow morning?" he asked as they strolled to the main doors.

"No, we're going to be in town for the rest of the week," Max answered tiredly. "Things haven't gone as I'd hoped, so there are preparations I'll have to make before we return. Call it a contingency plan."

"We'll make a politician out of you yet, sir," Yuri remarked, drawing a suffering glance from the major.

7

### Ascent

"This is the place," Aislin whispered as she peered over the top of the stairwell. Before her was the room where she'd encountered the strange blue man, lit only by the two magical lights she and Jaz wore on their arms. The chamber was as she'd left it – quiet, cluttered, and if possible, even more unnerving now that she knew it had been recently occupied.

"We'll take it from here, lass," Gordon muttered, slowly stalking his way forward with the point of his longarm sweeping back and forth as he searched for danger. Aislin pressed up against the wall to allow the others through one by one, though of Salinder, there was no sign.

"Where's your new friend?" Madelyn asked, perhaps noticing Aislin's worried glance down the stairs.

"He'll be around," she replied, firmly believing every word of it in spite of his glaring absence.

"You know, it's entirely possible he's using us a bait to lure out this blue gentleman you spoke of."

"He wouldn't do that," Aislin protested. "When that shadow monster was stalking me he fearlessly charged right at it."

"I'm not saying he'd let us die," Madelyn clarified, "only that I'm quite certain we look very juicy and delicious right now."

"Hush," Carthack rumbled, casting an irritated glance at her. The men moved further into the chamber, alert for any sign of movement, with the girls following along behind. Keg prowled along by Aislin's side, his wounds healing nicely after several applications of the salve. He probably would have preferred to be sleeping in Carthack's pack right now, but the two of them had yet to make their peace over the earlier incident when he'd attacked the big man while on watch.

Unfortunately, Jaz's magical gemstone didn't allow Keg to speak so he couldn't defend himself, but he did seem quite put out at being denied his usual sleeping spot. As for Jaz, Aislin wasn't surprised that she had a look of wonder stamped on her face as she peered through her goggles at the collection of strange objects scattered on the benches where Aislin had confronted the creature.

"Should you really be touching those?" Madelyn hissed as Jaz sifted through some of the items.

"It's perfectly safe," Jaz assured her absently, focused more on the treasure trove before her.

"There was something he slipped into the top drawer just before he saw me," Aislin recalled, pointing to the top of the desk in question. Jaz turned and located it, peering at the wooden drawer's handle cautiously before slowly pulling it open.

"Aw, did he leave you all on your own?" she purred as she laid eyes on the drawer's contents. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

"Those aren't yours to take," Aislin pointed out, slightly alarmed by the ease with which Jaz went through someone else's belongings.

"I know, I'm just looking," came the innocent reply, though Madelyn was having none of it.

"You're nothing but a common thief," she remarked with a look of disdain. "Pilfering anything you see lying around without a care in the world. I shall be watching my purse a little more closely in future."

"But this place is a ruin, nobody lives here," Jaz protested.

"Mister Blueskin does," Aislin suggested.

"He attacked you," Jaz exclaimed.

"Well, Keg attacked him first."

"You said he grabbed your arm before that," Madelyn inquired suspiciously.

"He did... because I was stealing his food," Aislin admitted.

"So let me get this straight," Madelyn sighed. "This blue gentleman may well have been defending himself against yet another thief."

"I was hungry," Aislin protested.

"How did I come to be surrounded by people with such low moral standards?" Madelyn asked the ceiling.

"Do ya really want me to answer that?" Gordon called from halfway across the chamber.

"Take nothing," Carthack grunted. "We don't wait to find out if blue man is friend." Jaz nodded and placed a few items back into the drawer, her disappointment palpable.

"Place is clear," Gordon declared after returning to their position. "Pretty sure we'd see a pair of glowin' green eyes if 'e was around."

"Where are we supposed to go from here?" Madelyn asked nobody in particular as she sheathed her rapier. "I presumed we were going to have some sort of guide." She was interrupted by the grinding sound of shifting stone from a nearby wall. Everyone spun around to face the noise, expecting the worst but finding only an empty passage.

Sorry I'm late, came Salinder's voice within their minds as his serpentine head appeared out of the hidden passage. I had to find a path for you to take from this part of the Spire. This would be so much easier if you could just walk through walls like me.

"I knew you wouldn't abandon us," Aislin said with a relieved smile.

"About time you showed up," Madelyn sighed with relief. "I'll be glad to finally leave this place."

Come, it's only a dozen floors from here, Salinder urged, disappearing into the darkness of the passage once more. Aislin hurried over and raised the glowing bracelet on her wrist above her head, lighting the passage and revealing a narrow stairwell inside.

"Easy now, Ace," Gordon advised, moving past with his firearm at the ready. "Let me take the lead here."

Ace, Salinder repeated. I like that. Don't worry, the way ahead is clear, though the chambers ahead have their own challenges you'll need to face. There's only so much I can do.

"Well that doesn't sound promising," Madelyn remarked dourly as she reluctantly entered the short passage. Although it was a tight fit for her, Carthack had far more difficulty squeezing through.

"I think people who make tower much smaller back then," he grunted, making it through to the stairs with some effort. They took the stairs in single file, with Gordon leading the way up to the next floor.

I wonder, Salinder spoke unseen from somewhere up ahead. How is the Queen of Aielund these days?

"The Queen?" Madelyn responded in surprise. "That's a very odd question coming from you. Why would you care about her?"

Merely curious. Aielund has gone through a great deal of turmoil in recent years and I've been out of touch with the world for some time now.

"Well, since you asked," Madelyn answered with a shrug. "She rules with grace, dignity and intelligence, beloved by her subjects and doing what she can to restore Aielund to its former glory. The task may well take her entire life, but she has a two-year old son, the heir to the throne who will one day take over."

"Didn't she have twins?" Aislin asked, certain she'd heard something about that years ago.

"That was just a rumour," Madelyn assured her as they crept along another narrow passage toward a sunlit room ahead. "I was in the capitol at the time and although there was speculation, Queen Criosa confirmed it was just that – speculation. I hope that answers your question, dragon."

For whatever reason, there was no answer from Salinder, hinting he probably wasn't as curious as he'd let on. Aislin exchanged a glance with Jaz, who had a thoughtful expression on her face. Further discussion on the topic was interrupted by a sharp, crackling sound from the chamber ahead, accompanied by flashes of ominous blue light.

"What's that noise?" Aislin wondered aloud.

"Better yet, what's that smell?" Madelyn added, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the sharp, acrid odour coming from the same direction. Emerging from the narrow passage, Aislin saw a room filled with tall dark cylinders, surrounded by metal rings from which sparks of blue light crackled.

Don't touch anything, Salinder warned.

"I could've told ye that," Gordon muttered. "More crazy old magic gone berserk I guess."

"I suppose you want us to walk through the middle," Madelyn presumed acerbically.

Move through without making contact with anything and you will be fine, Salinder advised. Aislin peered down the narrow path between the cylinders, wincing whenever a spark crackled between them.

"Follow close," Carthack ordered, turning sideways as he started to shuffle along the dangerous path. His barrel chest came within inches of the metal rings as he moved through, holding his breath to narrow his profile even more. Gordon went next after tucking his plaited beard into his belt so it wouldn't knock on something by accident.

One by one the rest of them followed, moving slowly to avoid touching the volatile cylinders. Keg's fur stood on end as he followed Aislin closely, while Jaz took the opportunity to examine the cylinders on her way past, more curious than afraid as usual. Once through the hardest part, Carthack led them around a corner where, much to their relief, the cylinders were placed a little further apart and before long the next door beckoned from just ahead.

And then the peculiar blue-skinned man appeared from out of the shadows.

As one, they froze in place, caught off-guard by the oddness of his appearance, and in this moment of hesitation he raised a small metal rod towards them. This was enough to alert Carthack, who immediately stepped in front of Aislin and the others just as a bolt of crackling energy shot forth, striking him directly in the chest.

The big man fell backwards from the force of the blow with smoke rising from his burnt clothing. As soon as the path before them was clear, Gordon levelled his firearm at the blue man and fired his weapon with a deafening 'boom'.

The shot struck a barrier of magical green light in front of their opponent with enough force to penetrate, striking the blue-skinned man directly. He hissed and vanished into thin air, just as Aislin had seen before, giving them a moment to check on Carthack's condition.

"That hurt," he grumbled as Madelyn helped him sit upright.

"So did this," Gordon added, slapping his trusty longarm. "Damn brave of ya to step in like that mate, but our blue friend might be back at any moment. We'd best hurry things along."

The next time he shows up, I will deal with him, Salinder assured them grimly. How is Carthack?

"He has a nasty burn on his chest, but my salve can deal with that well enough," Jaz answered after a moment's inspection. She opened the small jar and applied a handful of the odd-smelling stuff as Carthack winced in pain. Aislin peered around, Sliver in hand as she kept an eye out for the blue man's reappearance.

"Come on, big man, you can shrug this off," Madelyn teased as Carthack struggled back on his feet. His tunic was a smouldering ruin and the skin around the injury was a painful red. He bore it without complaint though, and Aislin briefly wondered what would have happened if he hadn't put himself in harm's way.

Beyond the door was a short, curving corridor and as they travelled along it, Aislin heard the sound of air rushing past nearby. Tall, narrow windows along the length of the corridor let the hot summer sun pour through, and Aislin felt her stomach knot when something large blocked the light as it went past.

"Him again," Madelyn hissed as she glanced outside, quickly pulling her head back in to avoid being spotted. "As if we didn't have enough to contend with already."

Don't stop, run to the next floor, Salinder instructed and, from just up ahead, Aislin spotted a set of stairs leading up. They raced along as fast as the wounded Carthack could manage, painfully aware they could easily be seen from outside as they flitted from window to window.

With only a few yards to go, the shadow of the enormous dragon Leviachon blocked the light of day once more, shaking the entire tower as he slammed his immense body into the wall outside. Aislin squealed in fright as a single yellow eye peered through a window.

You cannot escape me, his terrible, growling voice rumbled in their minds as the dragon pulled his head back and opened his maw, breathing a storm of fire through the window.

Carthack spread his arms wide and roughly pushed everyone back a few feet, enough to clear them from the scorching heat of the flames which showed no signs of stopping any time soon. The wall opposite the windows glowed white hot and began to melt like glass under the intense flame and Aislin was about to yell for everyone to run back the way they came when the small golden form of Salinder bounded around the corner and plunged into the flames.

Instead of being burned to a crisp, Salinder used his body to block the window, eliminating the wall of fire in an instant.

Go! Now! he cried, instilling a sudden sense of urgency within them. Keg, anticipating a run across the sizzling hot stone, leaped upon Carthack's back and clambered to the top. Rushing through the intense heat radiating from the smouldering stone floor, they hurried on to the staircase and sped for the next door at the very top, trying to ignore the roars of the huge dragon as it was stymied in its attempts to kill them yet again.

"Don't look back, just keep movin'," Gordon advised as he slammed his shoulder into the door to open it, allowing them through to the other side where he quickly shut the heavy door. They stood on a raised walkway overlooking a large chamber which, to Aislin's astonishment, was filled with rushing water surging around tables and benches.

Steam rose from their boots as the hot leather met the dampness, which roared into the room from a gushing waterfall in the ceiling a dozen yards away, flowing at what Aislin guessed was above neck height. On the opposite side was a whirlpool through which the water in the room was sucked down to the next floor, creating a treacherous environment to navigate.

"Must be a huge tank o' water above us somewhere," Gordon presumed with a shrug. "It'd have to be a recent breach though, I canna imagine this water pourin' out o' the thing for the past five hunnerd years,

"Don't discount the possibility," Madelyn suggested ruefully. "Little about this place would surprise me now."

"Look, a way out over yonder," Gordon said, pointing at the distant sight of another staircase leading up, leaving the question of how to reach it hanging in the air.

"I can swim across and take a rope with me," Aislin offered, to which Carthack shook his head.

"If you not strong enough, swept into that," he grunted, gesturing at the whirlpool which, to his credit, was over two yards across. "We walk on benches."

Seeing little recourse, Madelyn gingerly stepped off the raised walkway onto a set of shelves wedged against some other furniture which held it in place. It seemed to bear her weight easily enough, and from there she began to carefully hop from one piece of flotsam to the next. Steam wafted from her leather boots, still hot from the run across the scorched stone, but otherwise she seemed to know where she was going.

"It's not difficult," Madelyn advised from halfway across the room, "just don't take any foolish risks."

"I'm not at all keen on this," Jaz said in a trembling voice, eliciting a reassuring pat on the shoulder from Aislin.

"Stick close to Carthack and he'll fish you out if you fall," she advised, which didn't seem to go down to well with the nervous girl.

"Maybe if I redistribute my weight a little," Jaz mumbled to herself as she took off her overloaded pack, apparently intending to carry it across in her arms. Aislin's advice was further undermined when Madelyn slipped upon the slick surface of an ancient bench and splashed into the water. With quick reflexes she grabbed hold of the bench before she was swept away and crawled back on top, soaked from the waist down.

"I'm alright," she called, shaking excess water from her arms. "Closest thing I've had to a bath in days." Any further hesitance on the part of the others was soon brought to an abrupt end as the not-too-distant sound of Leviachon snarling snapped them back to the reality of their situation.

"I hope Salinder is okay," Aislin mumbled as she took her first cautious step onto the treacherous path. One by one, they stepped onto the path, with the wounded Carthack insisting he go last. Jaz reluctantly took her first step, nervously watching the 'ground' beneath her feet as they continued to jump from bench to shelf to table.

Once she was clear, Carthack eased himself onto the old furniture which groaned and cracked ominously under his weight. Exhibiting a keen sense for self-preservation, Keg jumped down from his shoulder and hurried forward, just in case the big man went in. Unfortunately, the cat was so eager to move, his paws slipped on the wet surface and instead of leaping majestically to the next set of shelves, he fell belly-first into the water.

He yowled in dismay as the rushing waters quickly swept him away and no amount of paddling was sufficient to stop his progress towards the whirlpool. He sloshed up against other shelves and benches, futiley scrambling his paws to try and climb out of the water.

"Keg!" Aislin cried in horror at his plight, watching helplessly from halfway across the room as he swirled around and around the whirlpool's edge before disappearing into the void with a screech. Aislin was about to dive head-first into the water to try and save her cat when the sound of his screeching shifted, seeming to come from the other side of the room.

With disbelieving eyes they watched Keg plunge from the waterfall into the waters of the very room in which they stood, where he was once more swept across the room towards the whirlpool. His plaintive cries for help had stopped, hinting Keg was just as bewildered by this turn of events as any of them.

"There's a magical portal connecting the two ends," Jaz remarked after a moment's thought. "This place just gets more bizarre. The water never runs out." The nuances of this discovery were lost on Keg as he was once more swept into the whirlpool but this time, Aislin anticipated this and jumped across two benches, ready to grab him as he floated past. The cat was shaking like a leaf as she heaved him onto the relative safety of the bench, appearing thoroughly miserable after his drenching.

A faint flash of violet light out of the corner of Aislin's eye caught her attention and when she turned to look, the blue-skinned man had reappeared right in front of the stairs they were making their way toward. Fortunately, he appeared a little disoriented right after his magical entrance and Madelyn's reflexes were as quick as a cat's.

"Look out!" she cried, reaching into her belt to draw the sidearm Gordon had given her. Aislin cringed in anticipation of the deafening noise as Madelyn aimed and pulled the trigger in one swift motion, but nothing happened. No noise, no smoke, nothing. Madelyn cursed as the blue man raised his metal rod in her direction and, without waiting to find out what was going to happen, she arced over backwards and flipped into the water just as a bolt of crackling energy struck the bench she'd been standing on.

Gordon, only a few yards away from where Madelyn had been, raised his firearm and pulled the trigger, with the same disappointing result.

"It's the water," he shouted in frustration as the blue man seemed to smile at his distress. Continuing to follow Madelyn's example, Gordon dove into the water to avoid being hit with their strange opponent's magic, but instead of shooting futilely where the dwarf used to be, the blue man switched his aim to Jaz, who was the next in line since Aislin had gone back to save Keg.

Terrified and unwilling to dive into the rushing waters, Jaz clutched onto her pack and huddled down on the shelf, hiding her head behind Conrad's immobile metal one and closing her eyes against the imminent attack. A flash of red light lit up the room, but it hadn't come from the blue man.

Conrad's ruby eyes glowed a fierce red as two narrow streams of fire sizzled through the air and struck the monster directly in the face. He shrieked and howled, dropping the rod as he clutched his injury, only to be struck a second time as Conrad hit him with another blast from his ruby eyes. Scorched and smoking from the unexpected attack, the blue man used his magic to vanish once more, with Aislin and Carthack gaping at the metal head in disbelief.

"Did you see that?" Jaz squealed with glee. "I told you Conrad would come in handy!"

"What happened?" Madelyn called as she clutched onto a heavy shelf, struggling to keep her head above water.

"Conrad saved us," Jaz answered, hopping with renewed confidence across the old furniture to the other side. "Are you coming or not?"

Madelyn pulled herself out of the water and narrowed her gaze at Jaz, while Carthack offered his hand to Gordon. Aislin and Keg carefully made their way across and before long, they regrouped at the stairs, mostly wet but still very much alive. Jaz picked up the small metal rod their blue friend had dropped and added it to her collection.

"So it could have done that to us at any time over the past few days?" Madelyn asked, casting a distrustful glance at Conrad's head. "It's more dangerous than I thought."

"He could have, but didn't," Jaz pointed out. "He's probably thankful to me for saving him from that cave he'd been stuck in for who knows how long."

"He is an it," Madelyn spat in response. "You are ascribing humanity to a thing, which, on its own, decided to assault someone with powerful magic. Do you have any control over it at all?"

"Conrad would never hurt us," Jaz whispered hurtfully.

"Based on what, exactly?" Madelyn pressed, wringing out her long dark hair. For this, Jaz had no answer. Instead, she awkwardly put her pack back on and headed up the stairs, lost in thought. From the top of her pack, Conrad's head stared back down at them, causing Aislin to feel a little unnerved at the prospect it could shoot them with fire any time it wanted. Yet, as Jaz had pointed out, it didn't. Sensing their fear, Carthack moved ahead to block the construct's gaze with his own bulk.

The sound of the rushing waters receded as they continued up the stairs in this tower that seemed to be without end. A door hanging from its hinges swayed about when they reached the top, and with a slight push from Carthack's hand, it crashed to the floor. Before them a round chamber with a raised platform sat, with an assortment of large metal devices covered in dusty cobwebs arranged around the outer edge.

Shafts of light streamed in through tall, thin window spaces which Aislin and the others kept well away from, in case they caught the attention of a very angry dragon.

"This place looks a lot like the room where Keg and I went on our little journey," she remarked nervously, making sure to stay clear of the platform itself.

"Oh that shifting scene you spoke of," Jaz responded, taking a keen interest in the contraptions around the perimeter.

"Don't touch anything," Carthack advised, leaning against the wall to rest. His injury had improved a little, but the salve took some time to have its full effect.

"Your bloody weapon was as good as useless," Madelyn hissed to Gordon, touching the handle on the sidearm poking out from her belt.

"The powder doesn't work when it's wet," he explained with a shrug. "Once it dries out, it'll be fine." Aislin's heart sank as a shadow fell over the room, heralding the arrival of Leviachon.

"Much good that does us now," Madelyn snapped as they ran for cover on the far side of the room. The dragon latched onto the side of the tower as before, spreading its wings wide to completely block all sunlight.

We need to talk, came its booming voice within their minds. Aislin clutched Keg closely as they hid behind a dusty metal cabinet, silently hoping Salinder would arrive. You may be wondering why a magnificent creature such as I is so interested in scum like you. It's quite simple – you have something I want. You have no way of escaping the tower without my consent, so if you wish to live, you need only hand it over.

"What is it ya want?" Gordon shouted.

One of you carries an item of remarkable power. I have an affinity for ancient magic and the aura I smell is tantalising.

"What's he talking about?" Aislin whispered to Jaz, who quivered in fear just a few yards away.

"He's been after us since we entered this place," she answered in exasperation. "It's not something I've picked up, but something I've brought with us."

"Whatever it is, just hand it over," Madelyn ordered from nearby. Jaz seemed deep in thought for a long moment, then her eyes widened in realisation.

"It must be Conrad," she whispered, shrugging off her pack to examine the metal head closely. The tower shuddered as Leviachon slammed a massive claw against the stone, sending dust and dirt raining from the ceiling.

I grow impatient, he growled. Do no test my resolve or you will meet the same fate as your friend.

"Salinder?" Aislin gasped, peeking over the top in dismay. Jaz had a different reaction – she whirled around and raised her pack until Conrad's head could see over the top.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Jaz yelled. "Give it to him, Conrad!" The construct's head obliged by sending twin beams of glowing light through the window to connect with the dragon's hide. If it hurt him, Leviachon didn't show it, instead reaching in through a window with one mighty claw to grasp around for something to grab.

Aislin and Jaz screamed, ducking behind cover again as the dragon's talons gouged great marks in the stone floor. Even on the other side of the chamber, the dragon's reach was considerable, but hope surged as the golden form of Salinder appeared through a wall, alighting on one of the old contraptions and taking in the scene.

Leave them alone, Salinder's voice cried, accompanied by a roar from his fanged mouth. They are not for you.

Silence, false dragon, Leviachon thundered back. I will have my prize, and then I will finish you once and for all.

Everyone, get on the platform, Salinder ordered, scurrying to one of the old contraptions and fiddling with some of the controls with his claws. His rear leg was badly injured, having apparently gotten too close to Leviachon in their last meeting.

It took all of her courage for Aislin to crawl toward the platform, for the red dragon's claw was still thrashing about, trying to grab hold of someone. More of the ceiling crumbled and fell to the floor, startling Aislin enough to halt her progress as chunks of dirt and stone fell around her.

Jaz crawled out from behind cover, dragging her pack behind her and carrying the blue man's metal rod in the other. She raised it and whispered something, causing a blast of energy to erupt from the end. It struck the dragon's claw directly and this time, made him bellow in pain. The claw was pulled out of the room, giving Carthack and Gordon a chance to dash to the platform.

"This bloody thing better work," the dwarf yelled, glancing around at the ancient machine dubiously. The girls hurried over and stood next to them, huddling together as the massive dragon outside roared in rage while Jaz kept blasting it with magical energy. Keg, having remained behind also took the chance to rush to Aislin's side, and once all gathered together, Salinder started throwing some levers on the machine.

Hold still, I will send you away, as I promised, he instructed as he worked furiously at the controls.

"Hurry, this little thing won't keep him at bay much longer," Jaz advised.

"Wait, are you coming with us?" Aislin asked, suddenly realising what the small dragon was about to do.

Someone has to work this thing, he explained. I volunteer myself.

"We can't just leave you here," Aislin protested.

I've just had the horrible feeling I've done this before, but don't worry, he won't get me this time. I want to thank you, too.

"For what?" Aislin asked curiously.

You've helped to give me a sense of purpose I haven't felt in years. We will meet again, I promise. Apparently, this sort of thing is what I do for a living.

Even with the enormous dragon raging just outside, Aislin had a sudden flash of memory. She'd heard words similar to that spoken to her before, years ago.

"Aiden?" she whispered, staring at the small golden dragon in disbelief, right before a violet flash of light enveloped them and whisked them far away.

8

### Duty

"I feel ridiculous," Maximilian complained, struggling to adjust the tie around his neck. The reflection before him showed a straight-cut military man stuffed into the impractical frippery of a city noble, at the request of the Lord General. The only hint of his profession were the two rows of medals awarded for various acts of valour, courage and leadership that adorned his chest. Max didn't care much for the distinctions and would have stuffed them into a drawer if the valet hadn't insisted on polishing them up and attaching them to the outfit.

"Neck ties are the current fashion around Ostermacht, sir," the valet reminded him. He was no older than Max, slim, with a nose too large for his plain face. "We can't have you embarrassing the General by showing up in your military uniform."

"It's not the dress coat I take issue with," Max responded, holding his arms out wide so the valet could fix the tie. "I understand the need for proper decorum at a formal dinner, it's the nobility's adoption of the neck tie as some sort of fashion statement that irks me. On the front lines, we use these things to keep our shirts together, yet men of wealthy backgrounds who've never served a day in the military strut around in them like peacocks."

"You may want to keep that observation to yourself this evening," the valet advised delicately. He finished up the neck tie to his satisfaction, then took a small brush and dusted stray lint from Max's shoulders. "You're all set, sir. I'm sure you'll make quite the impression."

Max grunted his thanks and, with a last look in the mirror, turned to grab his broadsword and strapped it to his waist before heading downstairs. The barracks where he'd chosen to stay were orderly and neat, far more so than his own back at the fortress. He would have stern words with his men when he returned, now that he had discovered a new level of discipline.

A steady rain blanketed the streets of Ostermacht, reflecting the fading daylight barely visible through the thick clouds. Max climbed aboard the carriage waiting to take him to the ducal palace, only a few minutes from the barracks. Given a choice, Max would have walked the distance, but the valet insisted he shelter in the carriage for the sake of his finery. A coat that couldn't withstand the rain wasn't worth the cloth it was made of.

The dim streets were lined with tall, narrow buildings which obscured his view until they finally broke free and started on a wide road threading its way through tall trees toward the palace. With light streaming from every window, the building was as majestic and imposing as the day it had been built, and remained one of the few relics of the country's previous occupant's rule. Maximilian suspected the Grand Duke and his ancestors enjoyed sleeping in the same bed as the former governor, a final slap in the face to those who fell in its defence.

Other carriages were depositing Lothar's guests at the palace steps just as Max arrived. So eager to have this tedious engagement over and done with, he was halfway out the door before his conveyance had come to a full stop, much to the surprise of the footman who had stepped forward to open it for him.

Maximilian strode up the stairs to the grand entrance, passing lavishly dressed couples moving at a statelier pace. More than one of them glanced disapprovingly at his hasty entrance, but he didn't care what they thought – he'd spent his entire adult life fighting for this country and they could stand to be offended just a little.

The entrance hall had been adorned with festive regalia for the evening's entertainment, covering its usually restrained veneer with gaudy buntings and banners. A crisply manicured gentleman Maximilian recognised as the castellan – essentially the palace butler - stood watch over the busy servants under his command while directing guests towards the smaller door on the left instead of the main hall.

"Good evening, Major," the castellan greeted as Max approached. "Will your wife be joining us this evening?"

"As I'm no longer married, I think that might be inappropriate," the major answered dryly, to which the castellan flushed a deep red and bowed his head.

"Forgive me, Major Strauss, I had not heard," he stammered in embarrassment. "Please, head through to the sitting room and help yourself to a drink. I believe Lord General Graham is expecting you."

"Yes, I thought he might be," Maximilian muttered. "Carry on." The castellan bowed again as Max strode into the lavishly appointed sitting room, now crowded with the city's elite - the men and women who made the world go around, if you were to believe anything they said. All of them were sipping darkly coloured liquors in elegant glasses and chatting in hushed tones by the dimmed light of the room's candles.

Max walked amongst them, feeling out of place yet unwilling to show it as he searched for the lord general. He finally located him with his wife Sabine on the far wall, a stately couple very much at home in these surroundings. The general wore a dress coat similar to Maximilian's, reserved for special functions such as this yet in contrast to the major's crisp coat, it seemed a little frayed around the edges from excessive use.

Lady Sabine was tiny, barely cresting five feet in height, yet she moved with grace and dignity. Well past her fiftieth year, she still bore the hallmarks of classic beauty in her youth – green eyes, fine features and long golden hair streaked with white cascading down her back. Max had rarely seen a more content couple and in his darker moments, he silently envied them.

"Good evening, Major Strauss," Lord General Clancy Graham greeted him. "You're looking well."

"My Lord, my Lady," Max responded with a slight bow of his head.

"So formal, Max?" Sabine remarked with a delicate smile. "I would have thought we knew each other well enough by now to dispense with such banalities."

"I hardly think this is the time and place for informality, my Lady," Max pointed out.

"A stickler for the rules, as always," Clancy remarked with a chuckle. "Just like your father used to be. Punctual, too - most of the Grand Duke's other guests arrived early to gain access to His Grace's personal liquor cabinet. Here, have a drink," Clancy insisted, catching the eye of a nearby footman who approached bearing a tray of glasses and appetisers.

Max hesitated for only a heartbeat before selecting a glass and raising it in salute. He took only the briefest sip of the intoxicating liquid, though he leaned back a little to give the impression he'd swallowed a lot more.

"Well, that little display was almost convincing, wouldn't you agree dear?" the lord general remarked.

"A nice attempt, though you threw yourself into it a little too much I'd say," Lady Sabine advised, leaning forward to speak in a conspiratorial whisper. "I'd suggest actually drinking it to avoid offending any of the guests."

"I never touch the stuff any more," Max responded, glancing around to make sure nobody else had seen.

"At all?" Lord Clancy asked with a raised eyebrow. "When did this happen?"

"When she left," Max answered, causing a momentary silence to descend on their little group. "I'm concerned that if I start, I may not stop."

"Well, it's good to show a little restraint I suppose," the baron mumbled, peering at his glass in a somewhat guilty manner.

"Hasn't it been nearly two years since your divorce?" Sabine inquired pointedly.

"Yes, though I fail to see the relevance."

"The relevance, sir, is that you are at a state dinner without a wife, mistress or chaperone," Sabine pointed out. "People will talk."

"Let them. Perhaps it will spice up their lives a little."

"Some have already noticed," Clancy remarked, glancing over Max's shoulder. The major turned and noticed an attractive young woman in a white silk dress looking in his direction. Her skin was fair and her cheeks dimpled when she smiled, giving her dark brown eyes a mischievous look. He'd seen her before at the palace, leaving with Osric just after their impromptu meeting a few days ago.

"Your evening is already looking a little more exciting, wouldn't you agree?" Sabine teased, drawing a groan from the major.

"Come now, she's not so bad," Clancy said with a faint smile. "I hear Lady Evangelina came here specifically to meet an available man."

"You're too handsome to stay single, Max," Sabine chided him.

"I am a soldier, not a noble," Maximilian answered crisply. "I have no patience for games."

"Do you mean that as an insult?" the general asked curiously. "It rather sounded that way."

"Of course not. This life of finery and expense is not my world, is all I meant. I doubt she would find me all that interesting."

"My dear Maximilian," the general purred. "I know your type too well – career military with little time nor love for the false pretence of court politics. But you don't have the luxury of ignoring how things work here, far from the front lines. You would do well to learn what you can tonight sir, for your new rank carries with it more responsibility than you might suspect."

"You could also try having some fun," Sabine chimed in. "You don't drink, you don't 'entertain the ladies' - you are in danger of being labelled boring, Max."

Although the major had been listening, his eyes had caught sight of Osric sauntering over to gain the attention of Lady Evangelina, with some measure of success. He was dressed in his finest dress coat, dark purple in colour with gold trim which complimented his fair hair and youthful looks. The lady was not unappreciative of his attention, though she was certainly making him work for it.

"Perhaps he would be more to her liking," Max said, noticing a slight flush to Osric's cheeks and a sway in his step confirming his access to the duke's renowned cabinet.

"It appears you have some competition," Clancy observed. "You might want to strike while the iron is hot, so to speak." Any opportunity Max had to intercede was lost when the castellan rang a tiny silver bell and announced that dinner was being served.

"We will continue this later," Sabine confided with a wink as guests began to file into the main dining hall. It was a suitably grand affair, dominated by a polished wooden table of impressive length. Candelabra were placed at regular intervals, providing additional light and a cosy atmosphere as the servants set the first course of the evening.

In the far corner of the room a quartet of musicians added soft melodies to the elegance of the setting. Max did a quick headcount and determined there were people being seated at predetermined positions, a modest number by the Grand Duke's standards, making this more of a casual dinner than a major affair.

Maximilian was seated between Sabine and a stuffy old nobleman who grunted his greetings before turning his attention to the head of the table. Grand Duke Lothar strolled to his chair in lockstep with his wife, to the scattered applause of the guests. Once he was seated, Frieda took her place to his left and curiously, Osric sat to his right, the highest honour His Grace could bestow upon a guest at one of these affairs.

"I'm so appreciative you could attend this evening," Lothar announced to the assembled diners. "These little get-togethers are becoming rare for us, for we are not oblivious to the scarcity of supplies we often face in these difficult times. Still, we have much to celebrate, with a new alliance and a special guest of no small renown to pay tribute to. Ladies and gentlemen, I bid you raise a glass in toast to King Osric Davignon, and to many years of prosperity for both our peoples."

The guests raised their glasses with a subdued cheer, then drank their fill. Max went through the motions but refused to swallow more than a sip, because he despised both strong drink and the vain, selfish fool they were toasting. He noted that Lady Evangelina had been seated next to Osric, no doubt an arrangement he had seen to personally.

Once the formalities were over, the diners ate the tiny entrée and to their delight, the empty plates were almost immediately replaced with the main course of sizzling roast duck and potatoes, smothered in gravy. It was food of a quality Maximilian had rarely experienced, for even as a member of the ruling kith he had eaten like this only twice before in his entire life.

Subdued conversations sprang up around the table as the guests discussed issues of minor importance, such as politics, trade and the like. The major's attention was mostly focused on the meal, though he couldn't help but glance up now and then to see Osric whispering in Lady Evangelina's ear.

Initially flattered by the handsome king's flirtatious attention, she seemed to be growing increasingly disturbed by whatever he was suggesting and began casting her gaze about for a way to remove herself from his company without making a scene.

Maximilian tried to ignore it. He knew Osric had the Duke's favour along with most of the general staff and his instincts told him to leave it alone. Max fixed his attention on the food before him, but a casual glance at Lady Evangalina suggested something was happening beneath the table, possibly involving Osric's hands.

"Your Majesty," Max said, loudly enough to be heard from Osric's position. The major was three seats down and across the table from Osric, a little too far to be conducting a private conversation, but he wasn't going to let that stop him.

"Major," Osric responded, pausing in his attempt to woo the favour of the young lady in his own unique way.

"All this talk of politics is hardly fitting for an evening such as this," Maximilian stated as he sliced through the dark meat on his plate. "Perhaps you'd care to regale us with some insights about your homeland?"

"You appear to have mistaken me for a storyteller, Major," Osric answered with a mirthless grin. "My life is not entirely dissimilar to that of our distinguished guests. Surely you, a man of military renown, could speak of things far more interesting than I."

"I am simply a humble servant of the Grand Duke," Max replied with a shrug. "Besides, the details of my exploits on the front line are hardly fitting for his table. There are ladies present, Majesty."

"Another time, perhaps," Osric remarked, turning his attention back to the young woman. Lady Sabine leaned in closer to Max and whispered words only he could hear.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled back, his attention firmly on Osric. Lady Evangelina blushed a bright shade of red which she tried to hide behind a napkin as she wiped her mouth.

"Tell me, Your Majesty," Maximilian continued, drawing his attention away from her again. "Is there any truth to the rumour that people in your homeland openly use magic?"

This time, his inquiry caught the eye of the Grand Duke and his wife, who both glared disapprovingly his way. Several of his nearby guests ceased their conversation and appeared scandalised from even mentioning the topic.

"You know how rumours are, Major," Osric responded after a moment's consideration, "each building upon the last until the truth has been completely lost."

"So nothing at all?" Max inquired with false surprise. "No sorcerous advisers to the throne? No sages with insight far beyond what their books tell them? No outcast royalty secretly tapping into forbidden powers?"

"What are you implying?" Osric shot back, silencing all conversation at the table in an instant.

"I am implying nothing," Maximilian answered with a shrug. "There are whispers circulating about strange, unnatural events happening in our land, roughly around the time of your arrival. As the King of a faraway land, I thought you might have insight into such matters that we lack."

Osric levelled his gaze at Max, who returned the look without flinching. It was a risky ploy, laced with his own suspicions about the man but it was pulling attention away from Lady Evangelina and centring it squarely on the foreign king.

"Gentlemen, please," the Grand Duke interceded. "I'm sure that while the Major is genuinely curious about such matters, he understands that perhaps this isn't the best time to broach the subject. Just as I'm sure His Majesty can't be expected to know about such arcane topics, nor can he be held accountable for the actions of rogue sorcerers in our midst. I suggest we all enjoy the evening and focus on the bounty in front of us."

"That's exactly what I was trying to do," Osric remarked with a polite nod, probably not referring to the meal before him.

"I meant no offence," Max responded, which was technically true. He meant to distract, not offend, which had evidently worked. Lady Evangelina, who had been drinking heavily from a glass of wine suddenly jolted in her seat, dropping the glass. The sound of it breaking upon hitting the floor diffused the tension in the air as everyone around the table looked upon the red stain of wine spreading across her pale dress.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped as two servants rushed to her side, standing up to reveal the extent of the accident. "If I may be excused, Your Grace, I'll go and clean myself up."

"Of course, Evee," the Grand Duchess answered, indicating she was a personal acquaintance. "Grekov, take her to one of the staterooms upstairs, and provide her with a replacement dress."

"That won't be necessary," Lady Evangelina gushed as a maid stepped out of the shadows to assist. "I'm feeling a tad woozy as it happens, so I think I might retire for the evening."

"Oh I'm sorry to hear it," Lothar remarked sorrowfully. "I hope the food wasn't too rich for you."

"Not at all, it's just... I feel like I'm coming down with something. I'll just go and clean myself up and then await my carriage upstairs, if you don't mind."

"Do as you feel is best," Lothar assured her. "I hope you're feeling better soon. Grekov, see to her needs."

"Yes, Your Grace," the maid answered with a curtsey, pulling the chair away from Evangelina as she withdrew from the table. Max and the other gentlemen stood, waiting for her to depart before being seated once more.

"Most unfortunate," Max remarked without looking away from his meal, yet sensing Osric's ire all the same. Silently pleased with his little victory, the subtle discussions around the table slowly returned and the uncomfortable incident was forgotten. Maximilian answered a few questions regarding the state of the military and his personal mission, more than happy to oblige his curious countrymen while Osric stewed in silence.

"Excuse me," Osric said after the main course was finished, "I need to make use of the restroom. I'll return shortly." He received a brief nod of assent from the Duke, though Osric had already left the table before permission had been given. He departed through one of the side doors leading to the restrooms, casting a black look in Maximilian's direction as he went.

"I think you've made yourself an enemy, sir," Lady Sabine whispered in his ear, though her tone indicated she was pleased at the result of his efforts.

"All in the line of duty, My Lady," he remarked under his breath. Feeling more relaxed, Max sat back and enjoyed the desert, a rich plum pudding he would ordinarily never consider eating. He continued with the light conversation for a few minutes, conversing with nobles he hadn't met before until Osric finally returned, wiping his hands with a clean white cloth before joining them at the table once more.

His conduct over the remainder of the evening was far more restrained, and by the time the meal was done everyone seemed tired and slowly began to say their farewells. Osric stood by the door, speaking warmly with each guest as they departed which further increased his stature in their eyes. Max suspected it was the wafer thin veneer of civility of a man who could very well do or say anything to get his way, though he couldn't speak about his instincts openly at that point.

"Thank you for the interesting evening," Lord Clancy muttered to Maximilian on his way past. "A word of advice? Watch your back."

"I always do," Max replied in hushed tones, shaking the offered hand and bowing to Lady Sabine as the couple headed for the door. Max didn't overhear what passed between them and Osric, but her tight smile and frozen expression hinted she was very much aware of the sort of man he was. When they were gone, Osric turned to the Grand Duke and his wife and bowed low.

"I am, as always, grateful for the mutual respect we afford each other, along with your gracious hospitality," he spoke with aplomb, pointedly ignoring Max completely.

"Drop by the war room tomorrow and we'll wrap up our plans for the immediate future," Lothar responded. Osric voiced his assent and departed, but when Max went to follow, the Grand Duke caught his attention.

"Thank you for attending, Major," Lothar said after taking him to one side. "I know you're a busy man, but it means a lot to us to have you in the fold, so to speak. However, I recall asking for your co-operation with regards to our esteemed guest, and your conduct towards him this evening was most irregular. I won't have it, sir. Either you treat him with respect or I will have no choice but to rethink your current assignment, which more than half the general staff would be rather pleased about, mark my words."

"I apologise for my rudeness," Max responded, bowing slightly to cover his embarrassment.

"You weren't rude, you were downright impertinent," Lothar bristled, surprising Max by flushing red in a rare show of anger. "Hinting at his use of sorcery within earshot of some of the most powerful people in the country, what were you thinking? Should that unpleasant fact become general knowledge it would be scandalous for our kith. It stops now, Major."

"Yes, Your Grace," Max answered crisply. Lothar continued glaring at him for a moment longer to make sure his point was driven home, before turning and taking the arm of his wife and strolling towards their rooms. Before disappearing, the duchess glanced over her shoulder at Max and gave him a very definite nod, possibly thanking him for his efforts that evening. The mixed messages from the Grand Duke and his wife were starting to give Max a headache.

Weary of the evening's 'entertainment', he made for the front door and told the footman to have his carriage brought around then waited on the steps in the crisp night air. Curiously, he saw one other carriage already at the bottom of the steps, with its driver nervously watching the door for his passenger to arrive.

"Is that Lady Evangelina's carriage?" Max asked the man.

"Yes sir, I was told to bring it around about half an hour ago," he answered, concern evident in his voice. A sense of foreboding knotted Maximilian's stomach when he suddenly realised she hadn't been seen since leaving the table before the desert course.

He turned and hurried back inside, spotting the stairs and taking them two at a time as he made his way towards the guest rooms, much to the astonishment of the servants nearby. When he crested the stairway onto the next floor, a long hallway lit by dim lanterns beckoned, with a dozen doors leading off from either side.

Max briefly considered breaking into every single one of them until he located Evangelina, until he spotted the castellan speaking with two maids in hushed tones near one of the rooms.

"Major, what are you doing here?" he asked as soon as he saw Max striding purposefully in their direction.

"What's happened?" he asked, his tone indicating he was in no mood for fanciful talk.

"I'm not sure who you are referring to," the castellan stammered, moving to position himself between the door and the approaching soldier.

"Stand aside," Max ordered, placing one hand on the hilt of his ceremonial yet still very sharp broadsword. Helplessly, the castellan did as he was told, allowing Maximilian to open the door and look inside. The room was spacious, lavishly appointed with gold-trimmed furniture and satin bed covers evident in the flickering candlelight.

Sitting on the large four-poster bed in the centre of the room was a startled-looking Lady Evangelina, who was busy trying to mend her stained dress which had been torn from the shoulder all the way down to her waist. Her right eye was red and swollen, soon to be sporting a very large bruise.

"Was it Osric?" Max asked of her, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it from her lips.

"No, I tripped and fell against the night stand while I was trying to clean my dress," she responded, her voice quivering in fear.

"What?" Max blurted, unable to believe the ridiculous story. "You have clearly been assaulted, My Lady. Tell me who the culprit is and I give you my word, he will be brought to justice."

"You're right, the man told me to say I fell," Evangelina breathed in surrender, her chest heaving as she began to sob. The two maids rushed to comfort her, while the castellan moved to Max's side.

"And did you recognise this mysterious assailant?" Max pressed, wanting, no, needing to hear the truth.

"The room was dark when I entered, Major. I never saw his face," she answered as the maids worked on her dress, trying to make her decent again.

"It must have been him," Max muttered under his breath.

"Major, please," the castellan begged, glancing around to make sure nobody else had heard. "Nobody was seen entering or leaving this room, aside from the good lady here. And His Majesty never came up the stairs – he was absent from the dinner for less than ten minutes, when he went to the restroom."

"You saw this?" Maximilian asked, his eyes boring into the castellan's.

"Not personally," he conceded, "but my staff were very active this evening. Many saw him enter the restrooms and exit again a few minutes later. You saw him at the table before and afterward, did you not?"

"Yes, but ten minutes would have been enough time for him to do... this."

"Only if he could turn invisible, or fly like a bird," the castellan scoffed, regaining his confidence in the absurdity of the idea. "I have no doubt that some scoundrel somehow broke in here and assaulted the lady, but I am certain it couldn't have been King Osric. I suggest you keep such wild theories to yourself, lest you be thought the fool, or worse."

"I'll be fine, honestly," Evangelina assured them, though Max was seething with rage. He couldn't press the point without revealing more about Osric's sorcerous abilities, and he'd just made a pledge to the Grand Duke to avoid speaking of such things in public. Though he yearned to use this as further evidence of Osric's deplorable nature, there was no direct evidence of his misdeeds and the lady was too afraid to even name him.

"See to her needs, and inform His Grace immediately," Max instructed as he backed out of the room.

"Of course, Major," the castellan assured him as he stepped inside and softly closed the door. Max's knuckles were white from gripping the hilt of his blade so tightly, unable to release his anger. Though he knew they had allied themselves with a man of vile character, he had no way of indirectly limiting Osric's influence. Maximilian stalked away and eventually returned to his barracks, in a far worse mood than when he'd left.

9

### Family

Aislin blinked her eyes to clear the afterglow of violet light staining her vision. She and her companions had arrived in a small room, dark and quiet with stale, dry air, lit only by Aislin's magical bracelet. Although her heart still thudded after their narrow escape, her mind dwelled on Salinder's fate and identity. His voice was almost identical to the heroic man she knew years ago, and the only question that remained unanswered was how he turned into a dragon.

Her friends had different priorities however, for they were covered in a mixture of dust, mud and grime from their time in the Spire and although finally free of its confines, they now found themselves in yet another strange and potentially dangerous place.

"Everyone okay?" Gordon inquired, receiving tired nods in reply.

"Yes, though I'm rather tired of dark rooms," Madelyn grumbled, her rapier drawn as she, Gordon and Carthack fanned out to investigate where the Spire's strange magic had sent them. Keg flopped onto the floor, appearing miserable and exhausted so Aislin, feeling just as wrung-out, sat by his side and petted him reassuringly. Nearby, Jaz crouched to take a closer look at the floor itself, sweeping aside layers of dust to discover something etched into the ancient stone.

"There's a symbol carved here," she reported. "If I had to guess – and I do – I'd say this was a planned destination for that teleporter Salinder used. We didn't end up somewhere random, at least."

"There's old bookshelves here," Gordon remarked, checking out the closest wall. "Empty, but it sure does make the place look like a library. Has anyone found a way out?"

"Nothing over here," Madelyn called.

"Stairs," Carthack grunted from the other side of the room, pointing at his discovery which ascended through the ceiling. Gordon moved in for a closer look, inspecting the rickety wooden staircase to ensure it was safe to use. Aislin noticed Carthack gingerly touching his chest where the blue gentleman's magic had struck him, a fact which had not gone unnoticed by Jaz. She pulled out her jar of salve and offered to apply another batch, but he refused.

"Others might need more later. I heal," he grunted, ending the discussion by raising a finger at the stairway. Sensing their brief respite was over, Aislin sighed and got back on her feet with poor Keg, as loyal as ever, plodding along by her side.

When Gordon gave the all-clear, they followed him in single file, the ancient wood creaking ominously with each step. Aislin fervently hoped they led outside, far from the Spire where they could rest, for now that they were away from imminent danger, her limbs felt leaden and each step was a struggle.

Unfortunately, the stairs ended abruptly at a bare wall with no other path visible. Madelyn stifled a curse and leaned her back against the wall, apparently as tired as Aislin felt.

"Are we in some sort of tomb, buried far beneath the surface?" she complained.

"Maybe," Carthack shrugged, "but on bright side, no dragons."

"Don't make me hurt you," Madelyn growled, though there was little conviction in her voice.

"Easy now," Gordon implored them, "I've ne'er seen architecture of the like that'd put in a stairway to nowhere. It does make me think this little room was a secret, though... and if me guess is right, there might be some sort of -"

Before he could finish, the wall Madelyn was leaning against moved inwards, and a dull rumbling of shifting stone sent streams of red dirt and tiny rocks tumbling from above. Initially worried about being buried in an avalanche, Aislin squinted against the brilliant light of day as a gap opened in the ceiling, revealing a blue sky with wispy clouds drifting overhead. On the wall before them, smaller bricks were pushed outward, forming a crude but effective ladder.

"Freedom at last," Madelyn breathed in as fresh air flooded the stale chamber, with the others mirroring her relief at their imminent return to the sunlit world. Aislin leaned against the wall and gave silent thanks to Salinder for getting them out of that terrible place.

"Your backside must have triggered that door," Jaz remarked lightly. Madelyn turned and peered at the section of wall she'd inadvertently moved, dusting off her formerly white riding pants in a self-conscious effort to clean herself up.

"It certainly looks big enough to move walls," Aislin added, sharing a brief laugh with Jaz that quickly grew in volume, a flood of emotion released after the tension of the last few days. Needless to say, this did not go down well with Madelyn.

"If I wasn't practically dead on my feet, I'd make you pay for that remark," she snarled, silencing their mirth in an instant. She flushed red and was about to say more until Carthack put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

"We all tired. Don't say anything you regret later."

"I never regret coming up with witty ripostes," she answered while shrugging off the big hand, though she did settle down.

"Let's get out and look around, maybe find place to rest," the big man advised. "Ladies first."

"Why thank you," Madelyn responded, evidently impressed by the compliment until she began to climb, only to realise her backside was on full display to the menfolk.

"I'm going last, and I'll thank you to avert your gaze from my posterior in the future," she huffed as she dropped back to the floor, glaring at Carthack who flushed red as his cunning plan was revealed. Aislin hid a smile as he stepped forward and checked the stone ladder to determine how sturdy it was, when Keg tugged at his boot with one paw.

"Fine," Carthack grumbled after a moment's consideration, allowing the cat to clamber his way onto the big man's shoulders and once in place, they began the climb. Dirt and dust scattered into the air with each rung, until they emerged cautiously from the darkness into the light above.

When he determined that there was no imminent threat, he signalled for the rest of them to follow one by one, with Aislin the last to make her way up. Her arms ached by the time she reached the top, but thankfully Gordon was there to pull her the rest of the way up.

Bright sunlight bathed the area around the secret entrance, forcing her to shield her eyes. Squinting against the light, Aislin saw a few old buildings built from yellow stone, crumbling from long years of neglect. A warm wind tossed yellow sand across a dry, cracked landscape as far as the eye could see.

"Another ruin," Gordon remarked, sounding tired. "Where's yer dragon friend sent us?" he asked of Aislin, clearly not expecting an answer.

"I see mountains over there," Madelyn said, pointing to the distance.

"Aielund has mountains on their southern border," Jaz suggested. "Have we only moved a few miles?"

"Wrong direction," Carthack disagreed, his eyes watering from the intense sunlight. "Those are west."

"Then they'd have to be the Golden Peaks," Gordon added, "the lands of me kin. We've moved maybe a hundred miles south-west o' the Spire."

"That's about as far as such magic could send us," Jaz remarked, her voice weak. "They still seem a fair way off though. Can we rest a while? I'm feeling rather spent."

"I don't know where we are exactly," Gordon answered, "but it seems safe enough. I don't think anybody's lived here in a long time. How about we stay here fer the night and set off tomorrow?"

"Splendid," Madelyn declared, dropping her equipment and easing her weary body down to sprawl on the dry earth. "I miss my bed," she sighed after a moment's consideration. Aislin wistfully recalled her own bed as she too found a place to sit and stare out over the vast expanse of desert.

"I check," Carthack rumbled, shrugging Keg from his shoulders.

"Can ye even see anything?" Gordon inquired pointedly as checked his sidearm. The big man looked down at him with glittering amber eyes, to which the dwarf merely chuckled. "Take a load off, I've got this," he suggested, heading off to scout the area before Carthack could protest. Clearly uncomfortable in the full light of day, he sought the shelter of a nearby ruin to give him some respite. Gordon returned only a minute later, confirming Aislin's hunch that the place was deserted.

"If anyone's here, they're well hidden," he sighed, easing his compact body against a broken stone wall. "What do ya think this place used t'be?"

"Intact," Madelyn muttered sleepily.

"Yer funny, as always," Gordon muttered.

"The secret hatch with magic symbols in it suggests the town had some leanings toward the arcane," Jaz offered thoughtfully.

"Secret leanings, maybe," Gordon pointed out. "I can't think o' any other reason why they'd bury a library down a hidden hatch."

"A fair point," Jaz conceded.

"Salinder told me the entire area was burned by some terrible people long ago," Aislin suggested. "It used to be green and full of life, so this was probably a nice little town at some point."

"Why must you take everything that dragon says as fact?" Madelyn inquired testily without bothering to face her. "He didn't seem quite right in the head, if you get my meaning. I'm just thankful we weren't turned inside out by that strange magical device that sent us here." Aislin was about to explain exactly why she trusted him so much, but realised it was so outlandish there was no way anyone would believe it.

"Never mind," Aislin mumbled instead, too tired to get into another discussion with her companion.

"Well, the place seems quiet enough," Gordon said, "but just to be on the safe side, I'm gonna sit here and keep an eye out while ye rest. I'll yell if I spot somethin'." The sun was warm, but not overly so and Aislin was happy to dry out after becoming quite soaked in the Spire's bizarre flooded chamber. Keg stretched out next to her and yawned, making himself comfortable for a long nap.

The sound of snoring indicated that Gordon had also nodded off in the sun, so Aislin crept under the shelter of the nearby ruin and sat down to have a bite to eat. She'd hardly taken the food out of her pouch when Keg was suddenly sitting right in front of her waiting for a share of food.

"Not so sleepy, eh?" Aislin whispered as she held a piece of dried meat in her palm. He snatched it with his teeth and chewed on it enthusiastically, making little growling noises as he ate. Aislin wished she could generate the same enjoyment for the bland meal, but it simply couldn't compare to the hearty stew she used to eat at the Brackfordshire Arms Inn. Just thinking of it made her heart heavy with longing for the familiar sounds and smells of home.

"Just think of a sizzling roast, dripping with gravy and it'll go down better," Jaz suggested as she quietly came to join her, having seen Aislin's expression while she chewed.

"I don't think my imagination is as good as yours," Aislin remarked, covering up her moment of weakness. Jaz flashed her a bright smile as she placed her pack against the wall, with Conrad's metal head still perched on top.

"I was going to wake Gordon but then I figured, we have Conrad to keep watch while we rest," Jaz whispered, taking a few items from one of the pack's side pockets and joining Aislin in the shade.

"Can you really make a body for him?" Aislin asked, curiously watching the head swivel back and forth, surveying the area with unblinking ruby eyes.

"I read all about the fabrication of constructs in my spare time at school," Jaz responded, "I just need the right materials and time. Anything is possible with magic."

"Anything?" Aislin echoed, drawing a confirming nod. "What about turning someone into a dragon?" Jaz opened her mouth to answer and froze. Aislin could practically see her trying to figure this one out.

"That would require an enormous amount of energy," she finally answered, "and the intelligence to know how to direct it. I'm not saying it's impossible, only that I doubt any regular person could accomplish it, even with the benefit of long study and practice. Although..." she added thoughtfully, "I do recall reading about sorcerers of old who channelled incredible power in their short lives. Maybe they could have achieved such a transformation? I don't really know, sorry. It's a rather odd question, I have to say. Why do you ask?"

"I think Salinder used to be something else," Aislin replied simply, unconsciously touching Sliver's hilt on her belt.

"Well, he did seem quite odd, and small now that I think about it," Jaz mused aloud. "I don't really know enough about dragon lore to speculate though. Not really my field of expertise, you know? Plus, I'm feeling really lazy right now."

"Me too," Aislin giggled, focusing her attention on finishing her meal. Jaz gave her a nudge and nodded over at the other side of the clearing, where Madelyn had finally noticed Conrad staring at her. With a shudder, she quickly relocated to another ruined building out of its sight which, by co-incidence or design, happened to be the place Carthack was using to provide some relief from the brilliant summer sun.

Over the sound of the wind gusting across the dry earth, Aislin could barely make out the sound of them talking together, though the exact words were impossible to understand.

"Is something wrong?" Jaz suddenly asked, catching her off guard.

"I - no I'm fine," Aislin blurted, trying to cover her embarrassment. She'd felt a sensation of loss that she couldn't keep from her face, apparently.

"You seem a little sad is all," Jaz remarked, drawing a sigh from Aislin. It was no good trying to hide her feelings, for if her easily-distracted friend could sense Aislin's feelings, the others would surely pick up on it too.

"I miss my father," she quietly confided. "And Vicki, Kirsten, even Toby. I miss my bed, the inn and the food. Worst of all, I ran off to join up with you and the others without talking to Dad first. He might feel like I abandoned him and I have no way to let him know I'm okay. He's probably worried sick about me, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"I know what that feels like," Jaz responded softly. "I went through all that on my journey north weeks ago, though under better circumstances I'll grant you. Fortunately, I've got just the thing for both of us." She reached into a pouch and pulled out a sheaf of small paper, yellow with age and no larger than the palm of her hand.

"What's that?" Aislin asked, suspecting the paper was more than it seemed.

"This is message paper," Jaz explained. "You write a short note, address it to whom you want it sent to, and it flies off to deliver itself, even if they're hundreds of miles away."

"Really?" Aislin blurted, the heavy feeling in her chest easing at the mere thought of communicating with her father. "Hang on, where did you get them from?"

"I uh, I've had it with me for weeks," Jaz hastily explained before sighing in defeat. "I'm a terrible liar, I really shouldn't even bother. Look, I may have technically taken it from the tower -"

"You took it from Mister Blueskin's desk, didn't you?" Aislin hissed in alarm. "You weren't supposed to touch anything."

"Hush, they'll hear you," Jaz exclaimed, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Gordon was snoring into his beard and the other two were still engaged in conversation. "Look, the Spire was a dangerous place and I wish we'd never gone there, but I had the opportunity to recover a few tiny little lost relics that I'm sure he's not going to miss. The others don't have to know about this Ace, there's nothing dangerous here, I assure you."

"It's not that," Aislin protested. "The blue man tried to stop us from leaving and we thought he was just a horrible monster, but he might have known you'd taken his things and wanted them back. Maybe he really was just defending his home, and it was my fault we got into a fight."

"His home was in the middle of a ruined tower filled with monsters and unstable magic," Jaz pointed out. "I don't think he was there to bake scones."

"I suppose. What else did you take?"

"Well, this stack of papers of course, along with a ring, a brooch and a small book," Jaz answered. "I haven't had time to look closely at them but they all glowed with magic when I had my goggles on."

"Could he have known you took them?" Aislin inquired.

"The magic for such security measures is very common amongst wizards and artificers," Jaz explained hesitantly, "so yes, it's very likely he knew."

"That's why he followed us and attacked in the water room," Aislin hissed. "It wasn't my fault, it was yours!"

"Oh!" Jaz whispered in dismay, suddenly realising what Aislin was saying. "Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me."

"He almost caught us because of you," Aislin insisted. "You can't ever do that again, not ever."

"I didn't mean to steal, but it was purely for academic reasons. Items of this nature haven't been seen in centuries and I want to take them back to show my teacher so we can learn from them. Please don't tell the others and I promise I'll never do it again, I promise." Aislin sighed and gave her a long stare before nodding in acceptance.

"Thank you," Jaz said with a small smile, handing over the small sheets of paper. "Hold these, I'll get you something to write with." She rummaged around in one of her pouches and produced a small, sealed vial of ink and a pair of quills with sharp tips.

They exchanged items and Aislin dipped the point of her quill into the ink, then paused as she considered what to write. Jaz didn't hesitate at all, scribbling away eagerly while Aislin had to write slowly and methodically to make sure she spelled the words correctly.

Hello Dad, this is Aislin writing. I am well and hope you are too. Jaz, Carthack, Madelyn, Keg and Mister MacTavish are also well. We are almost at a place called Or-um-gard to learn more about Osrick and stop his plans. I miss you and Vicki and the others very much! Jaz says this note will fly to you. Isn't magic wonderful?

"I'm nearly out of space already," she complained.

"I don't think they were designed for long letters," Jaz explained with a shrug. "Your writing is a bit big, too. Do the best you can."

"How many more do you have?"

"About six sheets, but I think I can figure out how to make them if I get some free time to conduct an examination. I've no idea when that'll be, mind you. Let's not waste them."

"Okay, I'll scrunch up a bit," Aislin answered, dipping the quill and writing some more.

I have seen amazing things and some awful things too, butIamthinkingofyouloveAisl

"Bugger," she cursed under her breath as she ran out of space.

"Good enough," Jaz laughed, scattering some of the abundant sand over the ink to dry it. She then folded the paper in half, closed her eyes and moments later, something wondrous happened. The paper folded itself over and over again until it took the shape of a dart, then flew out of her hands and soared into the sky.

"That's a clever enchantment," Jaz remarked with a look of appreciation on her face. "So simple and effective. Go on, it's your turn. Fold it in half then picture him in your mind."

Aislin sprinkled some sand over the page and followed her instructions, writing 'Tom Ballard' on the back of the note, then Aislin closed her eyes and pictured his round, unshaven face in her mind, his eyes sparkling with good humour.

Looking down at the paper, it folded itself up into a dart and whisked out of her hands, soaring through a gap in the ruined building's wall and quickly disappearing from sight.

"I'd say that was about ten miles an hour," Jaz murmured to herself. "We're maybe a hundred and fifty miles from Bracksford – as the crow flies – so it should make it to your father tomorrow sometime, barring any serious weather of course."

"What if it gets blown away in a strong wind?" Aislin wondered.

"If I remember correctly, this magic never fails," Jaz assured her. "I think that was one of the reasons they kept the note so small, that way it can zip around and avoid any trouble. It'll make it."

"Will he be able to reply?"

"They're only good for a single use I'm afraid," Jaz said sorrowfully. "But at least he'll know we're okay." Aislin didn't reply, instead staring up at the sky where she'd last seen her message and praying it would reach its destination. Her fateful decision to leave home was weighing heavily upon her, but it wasn't her own safety she feared for, rather those she left behind. Unable to do anything more about it, she sighed and settled down to rest.

As the sun slipped below the horizon, they prepared for a cold night around a campfire Carthack had started with the last of their wood he'd carried from the mountains and some old scraps he'd located beneath the stinging sands. Their meal was warm but plain, after Gordon discovered some of their supplies had been ruined from a dip in the water back at the Spire. Only the close proximity of Aurumgaard lifted their spirits, with the prospect of a proper feed closer than ever.

Huddled beneath their winter cloaks, they gathered around the fire behind one of the old buildings, mostly to keep the wind at bay but also to reduce the chances of the light being so easily seen. They didn't know who or what else lived out here.

In spite of weary bodies barely recovered from their recent trials, they set out early the next day through the dry lands, heading due west. The wind had dropped completely and with the sun beating down upon them the cold night was soon forgotten. Although eager to return to civilisation, they maintained a leisurely pace for the benefit of Aislin and Jaz, who were feeling the hardship of the journey more than anyone else, with the possible exception of Carthack.

With his tattered coat in ruins, he had no hood to shield his sensitive eyes from the bright desert sun and struggled to see where they were going. Gordon took the lead, more familiar with this region than the others. His eyes rarely wavered from their goal, a place high in the mountains that loomed closer with every mile. Madelyn, herself looking more bedraggled than ever, took sympathy on Carthack's plight.

"How must it be, to come from a world as dark as you claim only to be thrust into the light of our sun."

"Not dark," he grunted in reply, hesitating as he struggled to find the word. "... Less dark."

"Well that clears things up," she drawled.

"Dim?" Jaz offered helpfully, drawing a thankful nod from the big man.

"Ah yes, I recall now," Madelyn murmured. "The sun hung low in the sky, unmoving. I think I can help with that. Bend down a little could you?" She tore a strip from her ruined blouse and tied it around his eyes, like a blindfold.

"Now I see even less," Carthack remarked, pointing out the flaw in her plan.

"Precisely," she responded, gently taking him by the hand and guiding him along the dusty terrain. It was a remarkably selfless gesture from the normally selfish young lady, and Jaz exchanged a knowing glance with Aislin.

They crossed a shallow creek that wended its way through the arid terrain, noting on their way through that there was no sign of life within. Despite their water supplies running low, Carthack cautioned them not to drink from the creek, informing them that if plants and fish didn't want to live in it, there was something wrong.

The terrain remained dry yet before they made camp that evening, small shrubs and hardy grasses had begun appearing on the landscape. Before noon the following day, trees were spotted just ahead and soon, rolling green hills with signs of life were apparent, bringing great relief to the weary travellers.

Instead of breaking for rest when they reached the base of these hills, Gordon pressed on eagerly, practically clawing his way to the top as he yearned for something Aislin did not understand. Carthack alternated between carrying Aislin and Jaz, whose small legs buckled under the demanding climb. As the sun dipped behind the mountains towards the end of the day, they finally crested the hills and looked upon a narrow but well-maintained path, wending its way through the mountains until it arrived at an ornate stone gate, massively proportioned even at this distance.

"The fabled gates o' Aurumgaard," Gordon announced, fighting to catch his breath as he leaned on his longarm like a walking stick. "Homeland o' me ancestors and the centre of trade throughout the land."

"So long as they have beds, clothes, food and shelter," Madelyn muttered between breaths, "I couldn't care less about its history."

"I think it looks absolutely smashing," Aislin offered to Gordon, perched in Carthack's arms with Keg peering over his shoulder.

"I hope the journey was worth it," Jaz added, as they steeled themselves for the final part of their journey with the prospect of a warm bed waiting at the end.

10

### Anika

The coach rumbled over the damp flagstone street, the view from its windows hazy and indistinct, for the air in the industrial heart of Aussict was especially foul this morning. A lack of wind and a busy schedule at the forges rendered the atmosphere as thick as pea soup, and again Maximilian wondered how the residents endured such awful conditions.

"We must be close now," Yuri remarked soberly, staring through the other window.

"Close enough," Max agreed, banging his fist against the ceiling to inform the driver it was time to stop. The coach clattered to a halt moments later, though Max was in no hurry to depart.

"Are you sure about this?" Yuri inquired politely.

"The last thing I wanted to do was come here and beg, but I'm left with no alternative," the major answered grimly. "This week hasn't gone as well as I would have wished, Yuri. My connections aren't what I thought they were."

"Are we not united in common cause?"

"Some are more united than others," Max grumbled. "Still, I'm hoping blood is thicker than water."

"She's not going to be happy to see you," the lieutenant pointed out, drawing a sharp look from Max.

"What do you know of my ex-wife?" he pressed, his suspicions concerning Yuri's real purpose in his ranks rising once more.

"Only what I learned when I was assigned to your command, sir," the lieutenant responded calmly. "You were married for seven years, fathered one child – my condolences, by the way sir – and then divorced two years ago. It's all on your record."

"Don't pry too deeply, Yuri," Max warned. "My past has teeth." He wrapped a piece of cloth over his mouth and took a deep breath before stepping outside. "If I'm not back in an hour, I've probably suffocated."

"I'll be sure to inform your next of kin, Major," Yuri responded with dry humour. Max closed the door and braved the toxic conditions on his way to the primary forge where the Quartermaster General resided, for this district of the city was devoted to production of the country's new weaponry.

Equipping over a hundred thousand men with firearms was an enormous task, necessitating the employment of hundreds of their finest smiths and a thousand apprentices, all of whom were either rushing around the area fetching supplies or standing over red-hot metal, forging the weapons that would reshape the world.

Two dozen individual forges lined the main thoroughfare of this site, with the dull rumble of smelters pouring out molten metal a constant background noise. Few of the workers wore protective masks, and Max briefly pondered the long-term health of the men who slaved night and day to keep Kurhain strong.

Eager to be done with this, the major headed straight for the requisitions office and knocked sharply on the door. He stepped inside without waiting for a response, knowing that his rank afforded him such luxuries. The air was a little more breathable in here and, after closing the very solid door, found the industrial noise muted to such an extent as to make the interior bearable.

Three desks were arranged around the walls, with most of the interior space dedicated to cabinets filled with the vast files used to keep track of orders and production. Three ladies occupied the room, two of them of middle-age who, despite their unremarkable appearance, were the brains behind the operation. Without their painstaking efforts, the entire endeavour would come to a grinding halt.

The third woman, seated near the back of the room, was making a futile attempt to remain unnoticed behind a mountain of paperwork. Max recognised her blond hair from the moment he stepped into the room and felt his heart skip a beat at the prospect of seeing her again.

"Good morning ladies," he greeted them, doing them the courtesy of removing his face cloth. Their response was cool and unconcerned, in spite of his prominently displayed rank insignia.

"Major," answered the nearest woman with an appraising glance. Her hair was grey and held in place with a single knitting needle. She was tall, almost the same height as Maximilian himself, and had a commanding presence. "You don't have to speak to him if you don't want to," she said to the blond woman at the back of the room.

"I'm here strictly on official business," Max assured them, not blaming them for being on the defensive. He had a history with all three. "I would speak with Anika in private."

"It's alright," the blond woman responded when the two older ladies appeared ready to protest. She stood from behind the desk, revealing practical clothing over her petite frame that did nothing to diminish her beauty. "This way, Major," she prompted, gesturing towards another door partially hidden by the towering cabinets. Max inclined his head to the other ladies, who gazed back at him with distrust in their eyes, before following Anika through the other door.

The noise of the facility was louder here, for this room appeared to be adjacent to the forges and was much larger than the tiny office the ladies worked in. Long benches laden with engineering sketches, blueprints and samples of recent results were organised neatly along the length of the chamber.

"The others are out to lunch at the moment, so we have a few minutes of privacy," Anika explained, "assuming Gladys and Nadia aren't listening at the door. They do like to fuss over me."

"I won't stay long in any case," Max responded, glancing casually at some of the sketches on the nearest bench so he didn't stare at her. "I see you're keeping busy."

"His Grace ordered the entire army fully supplied before the first snows of winter. It's a bit hair-raising, but I think we might just squeak over the line. As for the cost, well, we're all going to pay a price at the end, and I'm not talking about money."

Now that he was standing closer, Max could see she was looking pale and wan, with dark patches under her blue eyes and her hair a little unkempt, with a few more grey hairs than the last time he'd seen her. Anika had always been fastidious about her appearance and her environment, whether it was her home or workplace and to see her appearing so dishevelled spoke volumes as to the state of affairs in her life.

"Are you at least working in shifts, allowing the men to get some fresh air now and then?" he inquired, trying to engage her in conversation that didn't bring up any bad memories, of which there were far too many.

"If we were doing that, the smog wouldn't be so bad," she pointed out while attempting to smooth and poke her hair back into place. It was an endearing habit of hers that brought a rare smile to Max's face. "No, we're running double shifts," she added, "it's the only way we're going to meet our quotas. When winter comes around we can drop back to regular production levels and catch our breath, both in the literal and figurative sense."

Max nodded in understanding as an awkward silence fell over them. It was inevitable of course, something the professional soldier felt was a weakness on his part, for Anika always left him at a loss for words, now more than ever.

"Officially, I'm here to pick up the firearms I requisitioned earlier in the week," he finally spoke, his voice gruff as he tried to hide the feelings welling up within. Anika nodded and immediately went to the bench, where a wooden case awaited her. She opened the top and revealed two sidearms, freshly produced by the forges and ready for use.

"These are now standard issue for all officers," she explained. "We've improved on the trigger mechanism and the rear seal is tighter, so they're more reliable. I must admit, I was surprised to see your signature on the requisition form. You hate new things, Max. You wouldn't even replace your socks if the army didn't supply them for you."

"That's an exaggeration," he responded blandly. As he reached for the box, Anika slammed it shut just before he touched it.

"Why are you really here," she hissed angrily. "We're divorced now Max – I don't want you thinking you can start over with me."

"I didn't come here to dredge up the past," he insisted, trying to avert another one of those conversations.

"You're doing that just by standing there, and don't lie to me, Maximilian. You're a senior officer now and could easily have sent one of your lackeys to fetch these for you, but you knew I was working here."

"Regardless of what you think of me, you're one of the few people I can trust," he explained, keeping his voice low.

"You came here to talk – get whatever it is you want to say off your chest," Anika instructed with a long-suffering sigh, clearly expecting a pitch for them to get back together.

"Look, I miss you, and I miss her," he finally said, "but that's not what this is about."

"I also miss Gunhilde, but you? Not as much," Anika responded coldly.

"You still blame me for her death."

"She could have been alive and here, today, if you hadn't intervened."

"It was an accident," Max pointed out with the distinct feeling he was losing control of the conversation.

"So you accidentally refused to let me fetch a priest, even while she was turning blue and coughing her life out?" Anika snapped.

"We're having the same old argument again," Max sighed, staring at the wall and wondering if they could ever get past this. Anika crossed her arms and glowered at him, refusing to budge an inch.

"Next time, just send someone else," she huffed, getting off her stool and heading for the door. Maximilian grabbed her arm as she went past, a move she wasn't at all impressed with.

"Let go or I'll summon the guards," she warned through clenched teeth.

"You're a fighter, Anika. That's why I fell in love with you," Max said softly, "and that's why I'm here. You love Kurhain as much as I do, so I need you to fight for our country or there won't be anything left."

"What are you talking about?" she inquired, her anger vanishing as he released her.

"I want what I'm about to tell you to be held in the strictest confidence," Max instructed. "Have you had the pleasure of meeting our esteemed ally, King Osric Davignon?"

"Once, yes," she answered hesitantly.

"I'm sure he was charming and eloquent when speaking with you."

"He was, actually," Anika confirmed, "but there's something off-putting about him too, though it's difficult to put my finger on exactly why. Something in his eyes, I think."

"Something missing, perhaps?" Maximilian prompted. "Like, a soul?"

"That's an exaggeration," she taunted, always enjoying the game of throwing his words back in his face.

"I'm not so sure. At first I thought he was like many other nobles, concerned with keeping up appearances but shallow as an empty lake. The more contact I've had with him suggests there's something else going on inside his head, something dark. I would have been content with keeping my distance and letting others deal with him, but His Grace saw fit to assign command of the forces given the mission of taking back Osric's homeland to me."

"There are rumours he dabbles in sorcery," Anika suggested with a degree of fascination.

"They are wrong," Max responded. "He is positively swimming in it. He tosses around arcane power like it grows on trees. I don't know what happened during the initial negotiations between the Grand Duke and His Majesty, but our national aversion to sorcery evidently wasn't enough to dissuade them from striking an accord. I haven't ruled out Osric exerting some sort of sorcerous mind control over His Grace, yet for all his apparent power, he was recently defeated by a small group comprised mostly of young women."

"I think I'd like to meet them," Anika answered with a surprised laugh. "Look, I can see you have some issues with the man, and while I don't disagree that he's... odd in some ways, I'm not sure how you think he's going to bring down the country."

"For all his vaunted power, he is an undisciplined child," Max grunted, glancing at the firearms still sitting in their box atop the bench. "He squanders the lives and resources of our country for his own benefit, seeing at as part of the price of bestowing upon us the secrets of these... weapons. We stand at a critical juncture in our ongoing war with Ramidia. Any sign of weakness now may provoke an attack before we are ready."

"Like I said before, we'll be ready by winter," Anika reminded him.

"We can fight with or without firearms," Max pointed out, "but not if we send a sizeable portion of our forces away from the front lines, chasing the ever-more-distant goal of restoring a sadistic simpleton with ties to dark magical forces to his throne. This would be our new ally? A kingdom run by a man such as this? Can we do no better?"

"Wait, sadistic?" Anika interrupted.

"I have told nobody of this," Maximilian continued, once more lowering his voice as he leaned in. "He assaulted Lady Evangelina earlier in the week." Anika gasped silently as Max nodded in confirmation. "Unfortunately, His Grace ordered me to keep my thoughts about the man to myself, and there is no direct evidence that Osric was responsible. Even the lady herself refuses to name him as the culprit, probably because he threatened to come back if she did."

"If there's no evidence, how do you know it was Osric?"

"He can 'teleport' around at will, I have seen it many times and even been taken along with him once," Max explained. "Just trust me when I say, he did it and he's escaped justice for the crime."

"Alright, I trust you Max," Anika agreed after a moment's thought," if only because I know you don't have enough imagination to make up a story like this."

"Thank you, I guess," Maximilian responded gruffly.

"So you think he is leading us to ruin," she continued thoughtfully. "Where do I come into this?"

"I have tried to persuade His Grace and the general staff that their plans to divert a significant portion of our military to retaking a far-away location such as Tulsone is reckless, but I have been overruled. More than that, I've given my word that I won't speak ill of Osric anymore and that includes criticising his plans."

"Now I see why you could only come and speak to me," Anika remarked softly. "I'm the only one who won't tell others you just broke your oath."

"I can't let this pass, yet I am powerless to act," Max muttered in frustration. "I need your help, and your discretion."

"I'll do what I can, but I am no soldier," she pointed out. "Now if you need some engineering or mathematics done, I'm your woman."

"As it happens, those are precisely the traits I need."

"What exactly did you have in mind?" Anika inquired curiously.

"I need a contingency plan," he explained. "If I can't get us out of this mess, the best thing I can do is ensure victory. If things go the way I expect, I want something to give our men an edge in the field. Something to give them a chance to survive when things go to hell. Something not condoned by our regular commanders, and I'm not talking about more firearms."

"How about bigger firearms?" she suggested.

"I presumed you'd be doing that already," he drawled. She smiled briefly at him and nodded towards the other end of the room. He followed as she sauntered over to another bench, covered in a dirty old tarpaulin covered in grease stains. Anika pulled it aside, somewhat theatrically, and revealed an assortment of other weapons in various stages of assembly. She sifted amongst the parts and retrieved a sidearm with two barrels.

"The biggest problem with these is the reload time," she explained, her voice sounding distinctly professional as if giving a lecture. "Carrying more firearms is the logical answer, but having to swap them out in the middle of a fight can be costly in more ways than one. Hence, this little number. It's just a prototype but it seems to be working well enough. Here, feel the weight."

She offered it to Max who took it in one hand, impressed more by his ex-wife's ingenuity than the weapon itself. It was much heavier than the standard issue weapons, but not as much as he would have thought. He aimed along its length towards a crate at the rear of the workshop, silently marvelling at the concept.

"It's not bad," he reluctantly admitted.

"That's a ringing endorsement from you," Anika said with a smirk, knowing him all too well. "The challenge was making sure the spark doesn't set off both barrels at once. I tried that once to see what would happen and the recoil nearly took my hand off. I don't recommend it. We have a longarm version of it too, though I'm still having a little reliability problem with the trigger. We'll get it sorted. Designing weapons isn't my normal line of work, you know."

"Will these be distributed to the men?" Max asked.

"A few, though we're already halfway through the production of the single-pipe versions," Anika answered. "Once I've figured out the trigger problems, I'll at least try to make sure the officers receive them. I've a few other ideas for improving the design, too."

"Outstanding," Max murmured, setting the iron weapon back on the bench. "You know, I truly despise Osric, but I have to respect the man for inventing these weapons. That strange mind of his works in mysterious ways, it seems."

"Trust your instincts on him, Max," Anika advised, "because I can tell you right now, there's no way he designed these.

"Pardon?" Max blurted. "How can you tell?"

"Whatever he may be, Osric isn't a creative or talented man," Anika confided, lifting a sheet of sketches from the bench. "These are the original blueprints as given to us by His Majesty. It's a masterpiece of design, made by someone at the height of their field."

"That doesn't surprise me, but -"

"Look closely at the writing," Anika suggested, pointing at the fine cursive script upon the paper. She gave him a moment to look, then took out a small note and set it down next to the blueprint. "This is a written order from Osric himself, with instructions on what to look for in terms of materials."

"The blueprint is written in a different hand," Maximilian breathed. "But wait, he could have had someone write this up for him."

"Maybe, but he claimed right from the beginning that he created these things himself," Anika pointed out. "When I'm calculating the effects of explosive force on metal, I use ink and paper just like everyone else, and I cannot see someone standing there, dictating advanced mathematics to a scribe. This is hands-on work Max, and Osric didn't do it."

Max stroked his chin thoughtfully after she made this revelation, adding it to his ever-expanding internal file on Osric.

"A copper for your thoughts," Anika prompted after a while.

"Although fascinating, this doesn't really change anything regarding our situation," Max replied with a sigh. "I can't stay much longer, so I'll sum things up for you. We need an edge, something that nobody will see coming."

"I'm not sure what you're expecting from me," Anika remarked, running a hand through her hair.

"What I lack in imagination, you more than make up for," Max insisted, gazing into her eyes. "Don't hold back on me now, Anika." She looked back at him with a calculating look, biting her lip as if to stop herself from suggesting something.

"Okay, I have some ideas," she confessed, "but they fall outside the bounds of what society would consider acceptable."

"I'm all ears."

"I'm not sure you are," Anika said with a raised eyebrow. "You hate magic as much as anyone in this country."

"Perhaps I'm more open to it than you realise," Max suggested.

"I can't believe you just said that," she breathed in surprise.

"I've had a lot of time to think about my mistakes, Anika," he continued soberly. "I won't let my country suffer the same fate as our sweet Gunhilde." She was silent for a moment at the mention of their ill-fated daughter, then nodded silently at his request.

"I know the right people to talk to," she finally responded. "You can trust my discretion on this, but the end result is likely to be rather difficult to hide. The general staff – not to mention the common soldier – might not feel the same way as you."

"Make something useful enough and I will shove it down their throats," Max grunted.

"Not literally, I hope," Anika teased.

"I can't rule anything out," he responded dryly. Without another word, he turned and made for the exit but stopped with one hand on the door when she spoke again.

"She was a lovely girl, wasn't she?"

"Perhaps a little spoilt, but Gunhilde was beautiful and talented, and taken from us far too soon," he replied with a catch in his voice, not trusting himself to turn and look.

"She had your hair," Anika added wistfully.

"And your eyes," Max responded. "Every time I see you I can't help but be reminded of her."

"It's hard for me too," she reminded him. "If you were ever wondering why I divorced you, that was the reason."

"I thought it was because I was never around," Max asked, genuinely surprised at Anika's plain speaking. He finally turned to face her and saw for the first time in years not malice or regret, but a glimpse of the gentle woman he'd once loved.

"I knew what I was getting into when I married a soldier," she explained with a wan smile that faded quickly. "When she was gone though, I just couldn't bear to look at you any more." Max nodded thoughtfully and then, on an impulse, pulled the door open, much to the surprise of the two ladies who had their ears against it. They stumbled forward, catching themselves on the doorjam.

"How much did you hear," Max asked, his voice flat with controlled anger.

"Nothing at all, I assure you Major," Gladys explained, her tongue tying itself in knots to get the words out fast enough. "These doors are extra thick, you know."

"It didn't stop you from trying, though," he growled, glaring at them until they scurried back to their desks. He glanced over his shoulder and gave Anika a quick nod, then headed out through the office. Just before he reached the main entrance, she caught up to him and whispered something in his ear.

"We need to move on, Max," she confided. "Remember the good things and live our lives. She would want that for us."

"Perhaps," he grated back, "but I fear my heart has turned to stone. Maybe one day, I'll be able to forgive myself, but until that day there is only duty, and the war." With that, he left the room and returned to the noisy bustle of the forges, catching only a faint glimpse of Anika's sad face as he closed the door.

He said nothing to Yuri when he returned to the coach, choosing to keep his silence even when asked 'how it went'. As with all the dark times in his life, the only way out was through, and if the only way to find peace was through victory, then he was going to dedicate every fibre of his being to exactly that, and damn anyone who got in the way.

11

### Fortress

Spurred on by their desire for warm food and a comfortable night's sleep, the ascent to the heights of the mountain city had seemed like a journey Aislin and her companions could complete before nightfall, but the view had been misleading.

Already pushing their limits, the girls began to falter shortly after the first hill and as night fell over the land, the distant speck of light from the city seemed no closer than when they'd first spotted it. So, Carthack gathered enough wood to start a fire and they settled for another night of camping in the shadow of the vast mountains.

It took almost the entire next day to reach the city's altitude and Aislin's legs were aching from the effort. If Gordon was feeling the strain, he refused to show any sign of weakness. Carthack, as tireless as ever, had carried the girls most of the way, even consenting to carry Madelyn in his arms for a while. Neither of them seemed to mind this arrangement, though Aislin was too preoccupied with moving one foot in front of the other to care.

As the sun descended behind the mountains late in the day, she glanced behind and was rewarded with a breathtaking view of the dry red lands extending all the way to the horizon. The wind had grown colder and stronger as they'd ascended, whipping her hair about and sending shivers down her spine. But when they crested the final rise, Aislin was the first to see the entrance to Aurumgaard from her view atop Carthack's broad shoulders, and wasn't disappointed with the sight.

Beneath a cloudy sky painted with vivid hues of pink and orange, a wide road from the south ended at a vast, rectangle opening in the side of the mountain, easily large enough to allow three carriages to pass through side-by-side with plenty of room to spare. Large, glowing lanterns were hung along the sides of the vast entrance, lighting the way as day slowly turned into dusk, and hanging above the entrance itself was a flag bearing the shape of a golden hammer on a dark blue field.

"The ancient mountain city of Aurumgaard," Gordon announced with a look of undisguised admiration on his bearded face. "It's been 'ere for goin' on three thousand years, the gateway to the north, carved straight through half a mile o' rock."

"Save the tourist speech for another time," Madelyn sighed. "I need food, rest and a bath, not necessarily in that order."

"Sorry, I'm gettin' a wee bit nostalgic," Gordon chuckled. "It's been a few decades, but if I remember correctly, the inn's just past the southern gate." He led them over the rocky ground to the welcoming glow of the entrance. Four dwarven guards sporting long, iron-grey beards and dressed in shining armour watched their approach with measured caution. They paid particular attention to Carthack who, to the uneducated observer, appeared to be a towering, scarred savage with no shirt, carrying a small girl on his shoulders as some sort of prize.

"We don't get many visitors from the east," one of the guards remarked when they were close enough. "Should we be worried about the pack of wild beasts what ate yer clothes?" The other three found this amusing and exchanged laughs. Carthack didn't move, nor did his expression change, yet their laughter quickly faded as he looked down on the diminutive guards.

"We've had a rough road," Gordon gruffly explained. "We're in dire need o' rest and supplies, and it's me hope yer fabled hospitality is better than yer jokes."

"The inn's just ahead," the commander grunted, trying to cover his embarrassment. "If ye have coin to spend, they'll welcome ye with open arms."

"Thanks. Tell me, does the McCullough clan still rule?"

"Aye, King Angus MacCullough, seventh to carry the name is lord o' the mountains. I'll be sure to tell 'im ye asked."

"There's that sense o' humour again," Gordon remarked dryly.

"Sorry, it gets a little borin' 'round 'ere. You can head on through, just uh... can I ask what sort o' weapons yer carrying?"

"Ye haven't seen anything like this before, maybe carried around by tallfolk?" Gordon responded, suddenly curious. He took out a sidearm and held it for them to see.

"Can't say we have. What is that, a hollowed-out metal club? Not much of a weapon if ye ask me."

"I wasn't," Gordon huffed, sheathing it once more with obvious disappointment.

"Just doin' our job, mate," one of the other guards counselled. "Welcome to Aurumgaard." He stepped back and made a sweeping gesture towards the entrance. Nothing more was said as Gordon stomped past, leading the others through the vast entrance while the guards looked on.

"Why do they call it 'or-um-gard'?" Aislin asked as they walked beneath an immense gate suspended above the ground.

"It's an old Ramidian phrase, literally translating to 'golden fortress'," Jaz answered helpfully. Although ready to fall asleep on Carthack's shoulders, Aislin perked up when she gazed in wonder along the vast tunnel. The ceiling was high and smooth, supported by massive golden columns lining the main thoroughfare. Attached to each column was a pair of lanterns providing light to the area, creating a long line of dots receding into the distance. The sheer size of the underground space was humbling.

Shops of all sorts fronted the grand boulevard and although most were closing up for the evening, there were still dozens of dwarven people out and about, finishing up their daily tasks as merchant wagons pulled up in front of what looked to be the inn. A patrol of six guards marched past, clad in shining metal armour and carrying an assortment of swords, crossbows and hammers. Of greater interest to Aislin was the elaborate sign hanging in front of the city's inn.

"The Golden Chalice," she said, reading the words aloud.

"Last stop," Carthack grunted, kneeling so Aislin could climb down. Keg, who had been riding in his pack the entire trip, poked his head out to look around but seemed far too cosy to emerge. Eager to finally rest, they stepped through the door and found an interior so lavish, it put her father's inn to shame.

While the walls were made of polished stone, the floor was covered in plush carpets and lanterns provided soft lighting for their guests. Quality wooden furniture adorned a large dining room already half-filled with hungry customers dining on delicious-smelling food. In spite of the inn's comfortable appearance, Gordon soon found something to take issue with.

"Ye what?" he blurted at the desk clerk, an older dwarven lady with her grey hair wrapped in a tight bun. "I just want three rooms, not yer entire establishment."

"It's the trading season," she explained patiently. "Most of the place is booked out already and uh, your big friend will probably only fit in the master suite."

"It's twice the cost o' t'others," Gordon complained, his accent growing thicker by the moment. "It's not like 'e wants the luxury or anythin', if he canna fit nowhere else ye can hardly charge me the full amount."

"There be plenty o' room out in the halls, if that's how ye feel," she huffed, unwilling to back down on her position. "I should nay be lettin' ye come in the front door lookin' like ye do. At least get yer friend a shirt."

"Oh, do ya have somethin' in his size?" Gordon asked with heavy sarcasm. "Maybe ye have an old tent lyin' around ye can spare?" She simply glared back at him with her palm extended until he finally surrendered. He dropped his coin pouch into her waiting hand and she sifted through it, returning only a handful of copper jacks, along with three keys.

Offering her a mirthless grin, Gordon led them up a set of winding stairs that prompted groans from the girls. They seemed to go on forever, but when they finally reached their rooms, Aislin, who was used to the simple appointments of the Bracksfordshire Arms, was once more pleasantly surprised.

"The only place to stay in the entire city apparently," Gordon explained, "and of course, it's a luxurious place to milk their customer's o' money. Enjoy it while ye can, we're here for three days and then I'm skint."

"Bath," Madelyn mumbled, stumbling into the first room which had a brass tub sitting against the far wall. Peeking inside, Aislin gazed in wonder at the huge, four-poster bed, luxurious red carpet and crackling fireplace.

"Where do you think you're going?" Madelyn asked as the girls moved inside and dropped their packs on the floor. "This is my room. You two can share one of the others.

"Given that it's my money payin' for this..." Gordon said after clearing his throat.

"Oh don't worry, I'll pay my own way," Madelyn answered, gently but firmly ushering everyone back through the door, which she promptly closed after flashing them a sweet, insincere smile.

"Well how do ya like that," Gordon grumbled. Too tired to care, he gestured to another chamber for Aislin and Jaz to take, while he and Carthack would share the luxury suite. Given the already lavish appointments in Madelyn's room, Aislin briefly wondered what would possibly constitute 'luxury'.

Fortunately, the girl's room was almost identical to Madelyn's, though with a bunk bed arrangement instead of a single large one. The carpet and curtains were blue, and when Jaz pulled the string to open them, they were treated to an astounding view of the mountains through a set of floor to ceiling windows.

"The inn must be built up through the rock," Jaz murmured. "I love it already. I have a lot to unpack here so why don't you have a bath first?" she offered, which sounded just fine to Aislin who stepped into the bath alcove and found a pipe with a handle positioned next to the tub.

Pulling across a privacy curtain, she raised the handle and a cupful of steaming hot water poured into the tub. She repeated this and soon had a constant flow of hot water pouring into the tub, followed by a long, relaxing time washing the caked-on dirt from her skin.

After they'd both cleaned themselves up, there was a knock at the door as an old dwarven servant delivered their meals of roast pork, mashed potatoes and vegetables.

"I could get used to this," Aislin remarked, though Jaz had another thought.

"Excuse me sir," she asked of the servant just before he closed the door, "I thought we would be eating in the dining room."

"Not in those clothes yer not," he chuckled on his way out. "Consider the room service a gift from the establishment.

"Fair point," Aislin conceded with a sigh as she ruefully picked at her worn amber dress. Resolved to do something about it very soon, she turned her focus to the mouth-watering food before them. Although certain he'd still been in Carthack's pack, Keg had somehow appeared at the end of the bed, staring at Aislin until she handed over the standard food tax.

By the time they finished their meal, Aislin was having trouble keeping her eyes open, so turned in early. Her bed was the most comfortable thing ever, with sheets as soft as clouds. Keg spent some time cleaning himself then curled into a ball and, shortly thereafter, they were all in a deep, restful sleep.

Aislin woke with a start late the next morning to the sound of someone knocking on the door. It turned out to be a servant delivering breakfast for them to eat in their rooms, a novel concept for Aislin. Enjoying every bit of the pampering, she ate eggs and toast while in bed, then laid back, still weary after the long journey. She listened to the howling winds outside as heavy summer rain settled in and soon dozed off again.

Aislin's sleep was disturbed by strange dreams of dark rooms that changed every time she turned around. She held a glowing hammer in one hand and pounded it against a wall to make it stop, only to break through, sending bricks careening into a fiery chasm. As the wall fell away she was bathed in hot sunlight, standing on a rocky precipice overlooking a landscape covered with smoke from countless fires. The bricks continued to fall away and Aislin started to fall, noticing a familiar young woman with dark eyes reaching for her as she fell.

Aislin awoke with a start, having felt like she had really been falling. She frantically reached for Sliver's hilt, finding it securely tucked in it's sheath beneath her pillow. Breathing a sigh of relief as the fleeting images of her dark dreams faded in the light of day, she glanced around and guessed it was early in the afternoon. Keg dozed at the foot of her bed and the sound of scribbling could be faintly heard.

Peering around the room, Aislin saw Conrad's head perched at the back of a small table at which Jaz was sitting as she busily scrawled something on paper. Unable to find her dress where she'd left it, Aislin noticed it hanging near the door, along with Jaz's. Both appeared to have been cleaned and dried.

Rain continued to softly drum against the window, loud enough to cover Aislin's steps as she headed over to the desk. She peered over Jaz's shoulder and saw a pile of papers covered in complex words and numbers, with a few sketches of an armoured man along the edges.

"Oh you're up," Jaz blurted when she realised she was being watched. "I thought you were going to sleep all day."

"What's all that?" Aislin asked, unsure what she was looking at.

"Plans," Jaz confided. "The city is sure to have a forge and lots of supplies, so I'm going to start putting together a new body for Conrad. "I've lugged his head around for long enough I think."

"When did you find time to clean our clothes?"

"I didn't, the inn has a linen service," Jaz explained absently, her concentration slowly but surely returning to the work before her. "Excuse me, I have to run some numbers here." Sensing the conversation was over, Aislin shuffled over to the door to dress, marvelling at the feel of the expensive carpet beneath her toes. Curious to learn what the others had been doing, she headed down the hall to Gordon's room and softly knocked on the door.

When she opened it, Aislin was astonished to see three single beds arranged side-by-side against the far wall, with Carthack lying across all of them. Gordon had been forced to sleep on the sofa, which was actually a good size for him, although his grumpy expression suggested he hadn't been completely satisfied with the arrangement. Madelyn sat cross-legged on a chair near the fire, a slight grin on her full lips.

"I already harangued them mercilessly for their sleeping arrangements, so save your comments," she advised before a smirking Aislin could say anything.

"So what are we doing next?" she asked instead. "Can we go and look around the city?"

"If ye like," Gordon responded, appearing very comfortable on his little couch. "I spoke with some o' the higher-ups around 'ere this mornin', Councillor Loreli MacCullough, a relative o' the King no less. Wondered if there was any local activity from Kurhain."

"The guard outside mentioned he hadn't seen any weapon like that before," Madelyn pointed out, nodding at the sidearm sitting on top of Gordon's pack.

"Aye, and I find it puzzlin', given the entire army we saw out in the desert using firearms," he answered thoughtfully. "The councillor I spoke to hadn't even heard about any troop movements from the south, so either she's lyin', or ignorant. Either way, I didn't make a lot of progress. We've got a couple more days 'ere so I'll ask around some more afore we depart. I'd been plannin' to come 'ere and try to sell these things to the local guards anyway, so I might take a crack at that too. I sure could use the money."

"I need clothes before I go anywhere," Carthack rumbled.

"I hardly think that's necessary," Madelyn remarked lightly as she headed for the door. "Oh don't look at me like that, I'm only joking. In fact, I'm going to do a little shopping so I'll see what I can find that might fit you."

"Me guess is 'not much'," Gordon remarked with a chuckle. "Alright, just watch yer coin purse while yer out walkin' the streets. Just because it's underground don't mean this city doesn't have its share o' street thieves. And stay on the main street or one of it's shops – Aurumgaard has dozens of lower floors but they're off limits to visitors. Full o' workers and miners and such, no place fer a lady."

"Great, I'll come too," Aislin said, hurrying back to her room to pull her boots on before anyone could object. She had never been to a big city before and couldn't wait to explore, even if it was alongside Madelyn. "Jaz, we're heading out, do you want to come along?" she inquired just as Madelyn poked her head inside.

"Hmm?" came the vague reply from Jaz, completely focused on her work.

"Do you want to look around the city?" Madelyn asked, placing unnecessary emphasis on each word.

"I'll take two, thanks," Jaz murmured as she fiddled with a slide rule. Aislin exchanged a glance with Madelyn who simply rolled her eyes before setting off down the hall.

"What about you?" Aislin asked of Keg, who was still curled up beneath the blankets of her bed. The big tomcat stood, stretched and yawned, then jumped down to join her. She closed the door and hurried along the corridor to catch up with Madelyn, who hadn't waited for them.

The main street was much busier than last night, with carts and wagons clattering along the thoroughfare carrying goods through the city. Aislin was delighted at all the exotic sights and sounds going on around her, and she'd never seen so much wealth on display. The golden pillars alone had to be worth more than her entire home town, and there were quite literally dozens of them holding up the ceiling. Only slightly impressed with their surroundings, Madelyn bought them pies from a local vendor which Aislin shared with Keg – not that he gave her a lot of choice in the matter.

Now and then as they walked around, they passed by one of the much smaller local cats lounging around near a stall, instantly on alert as Keg sauntered past. By the time they reached the other end of the market boulevard, half a dozen local cats were following at a cautious distance, engaging Keg in a staring contest every time they stopped at a new store, his tail lashing about in anticipation.

"Play nice with the locals," Aislin instructed him, though Keg simply looked up at her with an unreadable expression.

Merchants in expensive clothing hawked their wares from far and wide, and an assortment of visitors and locals plied their trades from stores carved out of the surrounding rock. Yet with so much going on, Aislin noticed the two girls were catching quite a lot of attention.

"Everyone's looking at us," Aislin whispered nervously.

"That's because we look like something the cat dragged in," Madelyn replied through clenched teeth, pulling at her patchwork threads in disdain. "We're going to remedy that right now. There's a jeweller just ahead."

"Jewellery?" Aislin asked with a measure of confusion. Madelyn had already moved ahead, so Aislin hurried to catch up. The store itself was devoid of customers, which gave the two girls a moment of respite from the press of the crowd. It was a small shop, well-lit but otherwise unremarkable aside from the catchy sign out front promising riches beyond the dreams of common folk.

At the sound of the door closing, a wizened old dwarf with a thick white beard emerged from another room and settled in behind the counter, scrutinising them with suspicious eyes all the while.

"Good day to you sir," Madelyn announced, stepping up to the counter to flash her lovely smile at him like a weapon. "I need this stone valued," she continued after a moment of awkward silence, during which time he simply glared at them. Madelyn produced an alluring green gem from her belt pouch, the one she'd been given by Jaz after she'd determined it was no longer useful for magical applications.

The jeweller held out his open hand and took the offered stone, then placed a black tube with glass in it over one eye and peered carefully at the gem for over a minute. Madelyn sighed more than once and then began tapping her fingers on the counter in a subtle attempt to hurry him along.

"Where'd ye get this?" the jeweller finally asked, surprising both girls with his sudden ability to speak.

"A friend gave it to me," Madelyn replied defensively, drawing a snort of derision from the jeweller which she wasn't impressed with. "Is there a problem?"

"Ye look like a couple o' vagabonds to me," he grumbled in reply, "but so long as ye didn't steal it from anyone local, I don't really give a toss. I'll give ye six gold sovereigns fer it."

"Six?" Madelyn repeated incredulously. "I assure you sir, that a jewel of this size and rarity would be worth nearly ten times that."

"It's flawed," he gruffly explained. "If ye think ye can get a better price, yer welcome to try one o' the many, many other jewellers in the city."

"If you think you can rob me, you have another thing coming," Madelyn huffed. "We'll see what the others have to say about this." She turned about and stormed out of the shop, with Aislin tagging along not far behind. They spent nearly an hour searching for one of these 'other jewellers' along the street, finding a vast assortment of wares on sale which few people seemed to be buying, before returning to the original shop. On their way back, Madelyn had grown increasingly surly and when she stormed to the counter, her performance didn't disappoint.

"In a city this large, how can you possibly be the only jeweller?" she cried, leaning over the counter to stare nose-to-nose with the little man. "Did you have them assassinated, or are they still alive, held against their will in your sordid little backroom? What is your game?"

"I'm just too pretty to compete with," he chuckled with a nasty edge. "Five sovereigns for yer pretty little rock."

"Five? You said six not one hour ago!"

"That's supply and demand at work," he grunted. "Demand is droppin' fast around 'ere." Madelyn seethed with burning rage, staring daggers at him until she finally surrendered and set the stone on the counter. Without further comment, the jeweller counted out five golden coins which she promptly stuffed into her pouch before leaving the establishment, muttering under her breath.

"I detest being taken advantage of and I swear vengeance upon that little troll," she vowed to Aislin once they were standing in the street once more. "It's not nearly as much as I wanted, but we'll have to make do."

"It's more than you had a few minutes ago," Aislin pointed out, looking on the bright side, to which Madelyn replied only with a resigned sigh. They walked over to the nearest clothing store and began looking through their wide selection of clothes both colourful and practical. The shopkeeper was an old dwarven lady with plaited grey hair who watched them curiously as they browsed her selection, and although it might have been her imagination, Aislin thought the lady was paying her a little too much attention.

The quality of clothing on the racks seemed decent, but the more Aislin looked, the more she realised she wasn't prepared to simply throw away her amber dress so easily. It was more than a sturdy garment she'd worn through all sorts of challenges, it was a connection to her home town and the people she'd chosen to leave behind. Besides, she'd saved for months and months to earn it and valued it beyond about anything else in her possession, save for Sliver.

Still, there was something to be said for more practical garments so she chose a brown leather jacket close to her size, some new soft boots, socks and smallclothes, along with something else Madelyn wasn't expecting.

"What are you planning to do with that?" she asked curiously when Aislin showed up at the counter with a small bolt of amber cloth.

"Why buy something new when I can mend what I already own?" Aislin answered cheerfully, setting her purchases down on the counter where the shopkeeper beamed at her while Madelyn laid down some money.

"That's a canny attitude, lass," the lovely old dwarven lady crooned at Aislin, who grinned widely at the compliment. "Yer such a sweet young thing, och it takes me back to me youth," the shopkeeper added as she pinched Aislin's cheek in one gnarled hand, whispering something that sounded like "It's been so long," right at the end. Aislin was astonished to see a tear roll down her cheek and took a few steps back while Madelyn, oblivious to this, accepted the change from her purchase.

"I'm going back to the inn now," Aislin confided, her smile vanishing.

"Fine, I'm going to look around for a few things for myself, and for our giant friend," Madelyn responded absently, already concentrating on the store's other items. Aislin turned and headed for the door, glancing over her shoulder briefly to see the old woman still gazing at her with a strange longing. Disturbed by this for reasons she couldn't understand, Aislin started back towards the Golden Chalice, looking at her surroundings with new perspective.

Although the centre of the boulevard was busy with carts and wagons, they were simply passing through on their way elsewhere. Just about all of the people walking on the street were dwarves, and none of them, not a single one, was anything close to being 'young'. Grey hair and weathered faces were everywhere, and Aislin had the thought that perhaps, when they had been staring at the two girls earlier, it hadn't been for their ragtag attire.

A cart drawn by an old mule emerged from a side-street and Aislin was surprised to see the jeweller sitting on the back, a floppy hat on his head and what looked like all of his worldly possessions in the back. He glanced at Aislin and blanched, then prodded his mule onto the carriageway as fast as it could muster.

Unsure what to make of this, Aislin and Keg continued slowly towards the inn, taking a more scenic route through the back streets of Aurumgaard. The area was darker, lit only by constantly burning lanterns and without the throng of merchants and stores, the place seemed cold and empty. The only signs of life were a few alley cats scurrying about, watching her and Keg pass by from the shadows.

Peering cautiously around a corner, Aislin discovered a short street that ended in a solid stone door not far ahead. A guard stood casually to either side of it, but they suddenly snapped to attention as someone approached from the other side of the road. A tall, neatly dressed man nearly six feet in height with brown hair and fair skin strolled towards the door which one of the guards opened as he approached.

Aislin caught a glimpse of someone in the darkness just beyond, a hooded dwarf with glittering eyes who greeted the newcomer as he entered.

"Councillor McCullough," the man answered in accented Aielish as the door closed behind him with the sound of locks clanking into place. It seemed innocent enough and Aislin was sure there was a boring explanation for this, yet as she continued back to the inn, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something very wrong with this place.

12

### Isidor

Drops of rain drummed on Maximilian's helmet and ran over his chin as he stood in the courtyard of Fort Nordgrenze, watching as hundreds of Kurhanir soldiers marched into position. He wasn't normally one to care about the weather, yet he hunched down in his longcoat at the unseasonable chill. The soldiers wore similar coats, draped over their shining breastplates and matching helmets. They wore brand new dark leather pants and boots, which were durable and resistant to adverse conditions. Held over the shoulder of each man was a longarm, polished, oiled and ready to fire – in theory.

"An inspiring sight, is it not, Major?" Yuri asked, although Max wasn't sure if he was expecting an answer.

"I only wish their weapons were as waterproof as their uniforms," the major remarked anyway. "We had better hope this ceremony isn't interrupted by a Ramidian assault or it's going to be a very short battle."

"Don't let His Grace hear you saying that," Yuri cautioned.

"Are you going to report me, Lieutenant?" Max asked, turning to carefully watch the other man's expression as he responded.

"Of course not, but he might be able to hear for himself in a few moments," came the reply as Yuri gestured to a single carriage arriving through the front gate.

"Curious," Max remarked as it came to a stop, "the Grand Duke usually has an entourage with him. Somehow I doubt he's crammed them all into his personal coach." The door to the carriage opened and an officer emerged, dressed in a heavy longcoat and gloves. Stern and tall, Maximilian instantly recognised his old friend, who likewise smiled when he saw Max nearby watching the proceedings.

"Welcome, Isidor," he greeted the newcomer, who strolled confidently forward offered a firm handshake. "You're a little early, and it seems you've brought the weather with you."

"The western front has seen more than its share of wet weather these past months, so I wanted to inflict it upon you lazy northerners for a time," Isidor answered with a dry smile. He was square-jawed and sharp-eyed, with a dark shadow on his chin that no amount of shaving could remove for more than a few minutes.

"May I present my adjutant, Lieutenant Yuri Vetrov," Max announced. "Yuri, this is Major Sir Isidor Drake, an old comrade of mine who gallantly volunteered for this dangerous assignment."

"It was actually the Lord General who volunteered me," Isidor corrected without humour. "Apparently he felt my post on the border with Ramidia was making me soft."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Major," Yuri said in his crisp military manner, offering his hand to Isidor, who merely nodded in response.

"My equipment is in the coach, Lieutenant. Please ensure it's secured on my horse for the journey. You'll find some other supplies in there, with notes on where they are to be delivered. See them to their destination personally."

"Of course, Major," Yuri responded with a salute, before striding over to the coach and ordering a nearby soldier to carry out the task.

"That was rude of you," Max remarked mildly as Yuri went about his duty without any outward sign he had been insulted.

"You know how I feel about the Khoda," Isidor answered while taking off his gloves. "At least this one knows his place. I'm surprised you chose one of his kith to be your aid."

"He was assigned to me," Max explained. "I think he's a spy for one of the generals, though I've yet to catch him out on it. He's either very ordinary, or the sharpest mind I've ever met."

"Only one spy?" Isidor responded with a broad grin. "They clearly hold you in high esteem, comrade. I have three in my staff – that I know of."

"You're not looking hard enough," Max drawled, "If I were your general, fully half of your command would be reporting back to me." This drew a boisterous laugh from his old friend, who clapped him on the shoulder.

"I've missed that dry wit of yours," Isidor remarked. "Now they've got you chained to a desk, and at your age? Such a waste of talent. I'm not sure if it's a compliment or an insult."

"I'm not one to speculate about the whims of generals," Max answered. "Shall we step out of the rain until the Grand Duke arrives? I have a splendid red wine I keep on hand for special occasions."

"Just like old times," Isidor responded with a grin, gesturing for Max to lead the way. They headed through the fort and up the stairs to his office, where Maximilian uncorked the bottle and poured each of them a glass.

"Not too much for me," Isidor said as he examined the dragon's tooth hung on the wall, "I need a clear head and probably shouldn't be drinking."

"It'll be your last for some time I imagine, so enjoy it." Max suggested, sniffing the wine's aroma before taking a sip.

"Save the rest for my triumphant return," Isidor instructed, "assuming this rabble doesn't disgrace themselves on the field of course. The quality of our recruits these days is simply terrible, but I suppose if every one of them was a man of breeding, there would be nobody left to do the menial work."

"You realise some of them are of your own kith, right?" Max asked, gesturing out the window at some of the hundreds of soldiers being put through their paces on the field.

"The Soljani elders think as I do, though they wouldn't dare say such things aloud," Isidor confided. "Granted, I'd still take Kurhanir soldiers over anyone from the surrounding lands, but if you ask me, half of these men should be relegated to cleaning duties. We'll simply have to make do with what we've been given and hope they don't break ranks at the first sign of resistance."

"I personally attest that each man present passed their training with honours, even your own kith," Maximilian pointed out while Isidor sipped his wine. "You underestimate them I think."

"My respect must be earned, Max," Isidor responded, gazing upon the assembled soldiers with cold indifference. "I do not simply give it away. Let each man prove their worth on the battlefield and hope they are not found wanting. The honour of their ancestors rides on their shoulders."

"Your ancestors betrayed their Ramidian masters to pave the way for our arrival," Max reminded him, growing tired of Isidor's haughty attitude. "To what honour are you referring, exactly?"

"They saw which way the winds of fate were blowing and switched sides to ensure their own survival," Isidor answered with a shrug. "It is the way of things, Max. The weak fall by the wayside and the strong rise to lead, something your kith is all too familiar with."

"Are we?" Max challenged.

"Of course you are, it's sewn into the very fabric of our society," Isidor responded, lifting his glass in toast to the portrait of General Gerhard Kurnst, hanging above Max's desk. "If the beloved founder of our nation hadn't stepped up to take command of the Great Liberation when the King fell in battle, someone else would have. Perhaps the Khoda would now be the noble class if your lieutenant's grandfather had the courage to seize power at the time?"

"There's a difference between taking up a fallen sword and stabbing one's lord in the back with a knife," Max grunted, silently wishing the Grand Duke would arrive. "The Valkre actually have a sense of honour."

"You wound me, sir," Isidor replied with a chuckle as the rain finally subsided. "Don't be so fast to discount the possibilities, Max. As one of the ruling kith, you could one day find yourself in a position to take up the mantle of Grand Duke. The other nobles would support you, as would I."

"Such talk could be considered treasonous, Isidor," Max remarked as he spotted a carriage rumbling into the yard at last. "No wonder the general staff assigned so many spies to your command."

"And they will find nothing but a loyal commander doing his duty," Isidor responded with an easy grin. "This wine is truly excellent. I shall remember this while dining on trail rations for the next month."

"We should go out to meet them," Max suggested, setting his almost empty glass down on the desk. Isidor agreed and the two officers headed downstairs and out towards the courtyard.

"Just before you depart, do you have any questions about your orders?" Max inquired as they marched into the courtyard.

"It's a simple assignment," Isidor answered as the ducal coach came to a halt. "Capture the town of Verdon on Tulsone's southern border, then press on to Miral and Sarden in the west before they know what hit them, cutting the port city of Auvergne off from the rest of the country. Once reinforcements arrive, we take Auvergne and use it as a base for further operations, and give Osric some bargaining power. If he plays this right, he can force his brother to relinquish the throne and our job is complete. My only complaint is the lack of a specific route to the border. Am I to use my imagination?"

"What?" Max blurted as they both marched towards the coach. "I specifically wrote that you are to travel along the eastern edge of the Golden Peaks, as close to the mountains as you can manage."

"It doesn't say that here," Isidor pointed out, taking out a folded piece of paper and handing it to Max. He unfolded it and quickly scanned its contents, momentarily confused as to the change in his orders.

"This can't be right," he muttered, then glanced up as he saw Osric following the Duke Lothar out of the carriage. Maximilian's eyes settled on the foreign king, suddenly realising what had happened.

"You think he overruled your orders?" Isidor asked in a low voice, having noticed Max's expression.

"We don't have time to discuss this now," he responded in little more than a whisper before they were standing before the Grand Duke, the King and their entourage.

"At ease, gentlemen," Lothar said when both majors snapped a salute. He was dressed in the finest clothing, covered in a heavy longcoat emblazoned with his regalia in case somebody forgot they were looking at their country's leader. "This is an impressive assembly, Major Strauss," he continued while gazing at the soldiers standing at attention only metres away. "Should they run into a dragon during their travels, I dare say they would vanquish the beast this time around."

"I've adapted our tactics when dealing with a monster such as that, Your Grace," Max explained. "Our men will spread out, to prevent its flames from detonating all the powder at once and yes, I do believe they have the power to slay it, if it comes to that. Our first priority is to ensure their safety until they reach the Tulsone border though, so I have planned a route north to minimise their chances of encountering the same monster."

"Don't worry about that," Osric chimed in, "other arrangements have been made."

"So, it was you who changed my orders without notifying me?" Max accused him in the politest manner he could muster. "Your Grace, I must protest."

"Your objection is noted, Major," Lothar said to placate him, "but my esteemed counterpart has access to a great deal of knowledge about the area and has formulated a clever plan to ensure our men arrive in the north without incident."

"Would you care to enlighten me?" Max prompted.

"For matters of operational security, we need to keep that information secret," Osric confided. Max had learned to greatly distrust the man when he was being nice, for it usually meant he was up to no good and far too pleased about it.

"I was assigned to this task to oversee operational matters," Max pointed out. "Feel free to overrule me, Your Grace, but in order to do my job correctly, I need to know everything."

"We've seen the results of your planning already," Osric purred coldly. "How many men died on your last venture to the north? How much materiel was lost?"

"Steady on," Lothar counselled soothingly. "The Major was doing his very best, and who could have known a dragon would attack without warning?"

"Forgive me, Lothar," Osric answered with a sigh, prompting Max to raise an eyebrow at his familiarity with the Grand Duke. "I am conscious of the sacrifice that was made on my behalf, and merely want to ensure it won't happen again."

"I assure you, Majesty," Isidor announced proudly, "I have been briefed on the incident and will take every precaution to prevent another catastrophe."

"Thank you, Major Drake," Osric answered with a measure of relief. "I must say, your record is most impressive. Your campaign at the Battle of Aquilonis was innovative, to say the least. I believe you have the tactical agility and strength of leadership to see your men safely north. Speaking of such," he added, reaching into his tunic to withdraw some folded papers, "here are your final orders. Share them with nobody, for we cannot discount the possibility of spies among us."

"We certainly can't," Isidor agreed with a glance at Max, who maintained a stony expression.

"Excellent, I can see we're all getting along well here," Lothar remarked, oblivious to the seething anger behind Max's eyes.

"Perhaps Your Grace would care to inspect the troops?" he said to change the topic.

"Splendid idea, lead the way," Lothar answered, with Max gesturing for them to follow. It was a ceremonial exercise, but it helped to lift the morale of the men who had rarely seen the Duke up close, and of course it padded his ego, which made him easier to deal with.

Lothar spoke briefly to every fifth man, asking where he was from or some other trivial question. He was quite interested in the weapons, asking for one soldier to hand over his longarm, which the Grand Duke held with a measure of satisfaction. He peered along it's length as if aiming at the wall, then handed it back, congratulating the man on maintaining it perfectly.

Always bored with these displays of pomp and ceremony, Max glanced over at Isidor who was matching step one metre behind the Duke, reading through the orders Osric had given him. Isidor's expression was grave and when he was done, he tore the paper into small pieces and stuffed it into one of his pockets. But it was when he returned Maximilian's look that it became obvious Isidor was disturbed by what he'd read.

Satisfied with the inspection, the Grand Duke gestured for those following him to stand to one side, while he stepped onto a raised wooden platform placed before the assembled troops. As if on cue, the sun came out from behind the clouds, shining down on the ceremony as if sanctioned by the gods themselves.

Above, the yellow tiger on the black flag of Kurhain fluttered in the breeze, otherwise all was quiet as they waited for the Grand Duke to speak. Max noticed Yuri was absent from his place amongst the officers and made a mental note to reprimand him later.

"My fellow Kurhanir," Lothar began, his nasal voice sounding even more odd with the increased volume. "As I look upon you, gathered together at the pinnacle of our might, my chest swells with pride, for I know that you are about to embark on a bold new age for our country. More than merely conquering our enemies, we will forge new alliances and negotiate from a position of strength – your strength. The coming demonstration of your power will show them our might, and the shape of things to come."

"Even now, our forges are producing hundreds more of these deadly new weapons and, once the rest of our military are trained and equipped, our neighbours will either sue for peace or Kurhain will crush them beneath our boots." This raised a brief cheer from the assembled soldiers, silenced when Lothar raised his hand to continue. "But first, we have a debt to repay. You will be marching north to free our new ally's kingdom from a tyrannical usurper, his own traitorous brother, and restore King Osric Davignon to his throne."

"With you leading the way and the men who will come after you, our enemies will tremble with fear at the thunder of our weapons. Now go forth and represent our country to the best of your ability. Kurhain prevails!" As one, the men echoed his pledge and then let out a deafening roar, raising their longarms above their heads in a display of undisciplined bravado Isidor did not approve of.

"That's enough of that," he roared, silencing the assembled troops instantly. "Fall in line this instant, eyes front!" Once they were standing tall and straight once more, he gazed along their ranks and turned to the Grand Duke for final approval. Lothar gave him the nod, and Isidor saluted, then turned back to his men.

"Company, right face and march," he ordered in a thunderous voice, which the army promptly followed without question. To Max's ears, the sound of their boots in lockstep was far more impressive than their earlier cheering, speaking to a degree of training and discipline that made him proud. He turned to Isidor and, despite his secret personal objections to the man, offered his hand.

"Good fortune to you, Major," Max said as they firmly shook hands. "If you don't mess this up, you might make General when you return."

"That's a horrible thing to say to a friend," Isidor joked with a smirk. "I'm too young and handsome to be stuck at a desk Max, but I'd settle for a few bottles of that wine."

"Agreed," Maximilian replied, then lowered his voice as he asked the final question. "What was in Osric's orders that has you so spooked?" Isidor's grin vanished in an instant and he seemed to consider his response.

"I'm sorry Max, I can't tell you anything," he answered soberly. "Just remember, everything I do, I do for our country."

"I'll hold you to that," Max remarked as Isidor gestured to a squire to bring up his horse, a magnificent black stallion laden with equipment. Isidor climbed on and looked down at Max once more, offering a casual salute as he nudged his horse forward to keep pace with his men. The Grand Duke, still standing on the podium, returned the Major's salute as he trotted past and then stepped down and headed for his coach, with Osric following closely behind.

"It certainly gets the blood pumping, doesn't it?" Lothar remarked to Max as he was about to climb aboard the carriage.

"Indeed Your Grace, and this time, I am certain of victory," Max offered with a slight bow.

"Excellent work, both to you and your command," Lothar said. "I'm returning to the capitol but I want you to convey my compliments."

"Gladly, Your Grace," Max responded as the Duke disappeared into the confines of the coach. Osric was about to follow him in when Max stopped him with one hand. "Should our men come to undue harm as a result of your intervention, their blood is on your hands."

"My dear Major, I wouldn't have it any other way," Osric answered, unperturbed by the confronting words. "I won't apologise for countermanding your orders, for my sole objective is to retake my homeland, and I can't do that if your men, graciously loaned to me by Grand Duke Lothar, meet an untimely end. Their survival is paramount to my plans and you can rest assured I need them to reach Tulsone, ready to fight and, if I need to supersede your authority and trample your ego to do it, so be it."

"You are mistaken, sir," Max replied evenly, well aware the Duke was listening. "I care nothing for pride, glory or medals, nor do I have a personal stake in the outcome. The lives of our men and the safety of our country are all that matter."

"Then we are in agreement," Osric remarked. "Don't worry about your men, they are in safe hands." He stepped into the coach and leaned through the door to deliver one final thought as the door was closed. "Should Isidor return triumphant, consider yourself relieved of command, Major." The driver prompted his horses into motion and with that, the ducal coach rattled off down the road, with the men parting to make way. Max watched them go without comment, noticing the sound of familiar booted feet approaching.

"You were absent during a state ceremony, Lieutenant," he remarked quietly. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't place an official reprimand on your record."

"Forgive me, Major, I was following orders," Yuri replied, moving to stand beside Max as they watched the departing troops and wagons carrying their supplies.

"It took you that long to deliver a few packages? You should have deferred it to one of the enlisted men."

"You had a special delivery arrive with Major Drake, and he bade me to see it safely to your office, remember?"

"As long as you had good reason, Yuri," Max remarked, not really concerned about a minor breach of discipline. A long moment of silence descended between them as the last of the battalion departed the fort, during which time Max contemplated all he had learned.

"Major Drake is a colourful character, sir," the lieutenant interrupted delicately.

"You don't have to dance around the topic, Yuri," Max growled as he turned towards the keep's entrance. "The man is a pompous ass, but he also happens to be one of our finest living commanders. Our friendship is based on mutual respect for honest opinion but after a time apart, I am reminded why I keep our conversations to a minimum. Make no mistake, he fights for his kith, not all of Kurhain and it pains me to say we're counting on his victory more than I care to admit. I just wish I knew what alterations Osric made to my plan."

"He certainly seems to get along with King Osric and the Grand Duke," Yuri pointed out.

"Isidor holds anyone with a title in high esteem," Max grunted. "I'm sure he'll be rewarded with a state dinner should he manage to pull this off. It is clear I am being sidelined, for whatever reason and Isidor is being slotted into place to eventually take over my post."

"I don't think there's any mystery over why you're being replaced, sir," the lieutenant remarked dryly.

"That's enough, Yuri," Max ordered, only willing to accept so much familiarity from a subordinate.

"Sorry, sir," Yuri answered. "I have further duties to carry out, but you'll find your package on your desk. I assume it was a gift he forgot to hand over before the ceremony."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Max replied absently, heading for the stairs while still thinking about all he had learned in the last half hour. When he arrived back at his office, he instantly saw a wooden box on his desk with a folded note attached to the lid. He quietly closed the door behind him and curiously examined the box.

It wasn't just any old package, for it was finely crafted and clearly designed to be used as a case for something valuable. Max picked up the note and instantly recognised his ex-wife's flowing handwriting.

Dearest Maximilian. You'll forgive me for not being there in person, but my schedule simply won't permit it at the moment. I also communicate better through the written word, something you no doubt remember. Things became a little emotional for both of us on your last visit, and clearly we're both carrying a lot of hurt feelings. I honestly believe we need to move on with our lives, but we need to remember the best of our daughter as well. She's with us in spirit, if not in fact.

You forgot to pick up your new sidearms during your recent visit, but instead of sending them along with Isidor, I took the liberty of volunteering you to be my guinea pig. I hope you like what you see, and that you can forgive my presumption with the name. We both miss her very much. Now she'll fight along side you every step of the way. Regards, Anika.

Unsure exactly what she was referring to, Max set aside the note and carefully opened the lid on the box. The inside was lined with red felt and, secured to the box with leather straps was a sidearm with not one, not two, but three barrels arranged around the centre of its length. Unlike most of the weapons he'd seen, this one was crafted with precision and care, with gold fluting along the handle and platinum-embossed metal along the pipes.

Unstrapping the firearm, Max hefted it and found its balance to be perfect, but what caught his eye was the word 'Gunhilde' inscribed into the gleaming metal along the top. Struck by the beauty of Anika's craft and her heartfelt words, Maximilian gazed at the portrait of their daughter sitting on his desk and, for the first time in months, fought back tears at the memory of her loss.

13

Secrets

"And then the door closed and locked behind them," Aislin said, having just finished explaining her odd experiences along the boulevard to her companions while she went about putting the finishing touches on her dress the next day. With the exception of Madelyn, they were sitting around her room with the midday sun streaming in through the open windows. Keg was lying on the bed next to Aislin, occasionally trying to bat the needle and thread out of her hands with one lazy paw.

"It all sounds very peculiar," Jaz remarked, having difficulty speaking clearly due to the pins she held clenched with her mouth. Carthack stood near the window, his trunk-like arms out wide as Jaz measured them with a notched piece of thread. The desk behind him was covered in new clothes, none of which fit the towering escardi but Jaz was determined to stitch them into something workable.

Gordon sat next to the cold fireplace, listening to the conversation but occasionally, he'd pat his tunic pocket for something before remembering it wasn't there.

"What are you looking for?" Aislin asked curiously, pausing her stitching for a moment.

"Hmm? Oh, I used to smoke a pipe, but I had to give it up," Gordon gruffly explained while trying to cover his embarrassment. "Not a bright idea to have a fire in me mouth when carryin' black powder around. Anyway, this man ye saw Ace, the tallfella – can ye recall his voice?"

"Yes, he said 'Councillor McCullough'," Aislin answered, lowering her voice to make it sound similar to the man's which drew a brief laugh from Jaz.

"Not what he said, how he said it," Gordon pressed, leaning forward in his chair. "The accent you just used, does it sound familiar to ye at all?" Aislin paused once more to think about it, when it suddenly occurred to her what Gordon was talking about.

"It's a lot like Captain Jansen, back at the cave when we saved the dragon eggs," she exclaimed.

"Kurhanir," Carthack rumbled, not at all pleased at this revelation. "They here too?"

"Aye it sounds like it, but on the sly," Gordon mused, stroking his beard. "The guards said they hadn't seen nor heard of any moving through the city, and now the councillor is having secret meetings with 'em? I'd say they were workin' together somehow but I canna see any sign of it around the place. Nobody has a firearm, there's no sign o' trouble, it's... yeah, peculiar."

"Speaking of such, did you have any luck making a sale, Mister MacTavish?" Jaz inquired as she worked.

"No interest at all," Gordon huffed, settling back into his chair. "Not to be unkind, but they're a bit stuck-up around 'ere. They're big on tradition and keepin' the old ways alive, so a new kind o' weapon holds no interest for 'em. The councillor wouldn't let me speak with any o' the higher-ups, either, and certainly not the King. Bah, maybe comin' 'ere was a waste o' time after all."

Aislin tied off the last piece of thread and, with eager anticipation, put on her amber dress and carefully buttoned it up.

"Nice work," Jaz remarked after a scrutinising glance.

"Thanks, I added a new sleeve, some pockets, and stitched the hem so it won't unravel," Aislin explained as the door opened and Madelyn arrived. "I fixed the holes and tears too, though you can't really notice from the outside. Do you like my dress, Maddie?"

"It's very nice, and please don't call me that," Madelyn answered, now fully attired in her new outfit. Gone was the torn, patchwork blouse and worn-out jodhpurs she'd been forced to wear since their flight from Bracksford. They'd been replaced with smooth yet rugged leather pants, boots and jacket over a new frilly blouse, with her rapier secured by a wide belt on her hip. Her dark, silky hair was tied in a plait which ran down her back to her waist.

"I thought you would have bought a dress or something," Aislin remarked in surprise.

"Given our situation, I felt something more practical was in order," she answered, posing for the others to take it all in.

"Ye've been gone all morning," Gordon pointed out gruffly. "Did ya find the time to speak with the clerk, or where ya too busy lookin' in the mirror?"

"I not only accomplished my goal, I've paid for an additional three days lodging," Madelyn answered primly. "She refused to co-operate at all with my request, so I waited until her shift ended and she was replaced by a man, who turned out to be far more pliable."

"I wonder why," Carthack said with a lingering glance.

"And what did yer new best friend have to say?" Gordon prompted.

"He didn't say much at all, but the inn's ledger practically shouted at me," Madelyn responded. "Nobody has stayed here for more than one night in nearly two years. Only merchants have passed through in recent times, with no sign of any tourism to speak of. People check in, rest up then head out first thing the next day as though they can't wait to be somewhere else. When we were out shopping yesterday, we were the only 'tallfolk' walking amongst the locals, which they seemed to find positively enchanting."

"Where are all the kids?" Aislin asked nobody in particular. "All we saw were old people, even older than you, Mister MacTavish."

"Er, thanks," he answered awkwardly. "I don't have any answers for ye Ace. If I had to guess, maybe they're all on the lower floors, working hard in the mines 'n forges."

"That sounds like a positively horrible place to grow up in," Madelyn remarked with a shudder.

"This whole place strange to me," Carthack rumbled as Jaz told him to lower his arms and take a seat. He gingerly sat in the largest chair they could find, which creaked under his weight. "I know nothing of cities. This is not normal?"

"You'd usually see the youngest children scurrying about somewhere, surely," Madelyn conceded. "My instincts tell me there's something very wrong here."

"I keep thinkin' about that man meetin' with the councillor," Gordon added after a moment's thought. "It's possible this is nothin', but where they met didn't sound like the kind of place you'd usually find a city official, nor a civic buildin' like an office."

"It looked dark and dangerous," Aislin said, "and they moved like they weren't supposed to be there."

"Part o' me just wants to keep headin' south, but t'other half wants to swing by this 'dangerous door' and take a peek, just in case it's not nothin'. Can ya show me where it's at?"

"I certainly can," Aislin offered, immediately putting away her sewing equipment and going for her boots and jacket.

"You want I come too?" Carthack offered.

"You're not going anywhere, young man," Jaz protested. "If you want these clothes to fit, I need to adjust them as we go."

"I'll help out too," Madelyn offered, unbuckling her weapon belt and placing the rapier on one of the beds. Jaz gave her an incredulous stare while Aislin hid a smile, both of them guessing Madelyn's ulterior motives for wanting to assist.

"I stay, but be careful," Carthack advised, appearing crestfallen at being left behind.

"Don't worry, we'll take Keg along for protection," Aislin assured him, gesturing for him to follow. Apparently full of energy and looking for something to fight, Keg jumped down from the bed and beat them to the door.

"Take more than angry cat," Carthack added, unimpressed with Aislin's choice of weapon.

"I've got Sliver too, remember," Aislin pointed out with a wink. Gordon also opened one side of his longcoat and revealed a pair of sidearms sheathed within, giving them a reassuring nod as he closed the door.

"Remember what I told ya about that knife?" Gordon asked her quietly as they went down the stairs.

"Yes, it's cursed or branded or something," Aislin answered.

"Aye, the dwarven mark of betrayal lies upon its blade," Gordon confirmed. "They're sticklers for tradition around 'ere so if they see it, they might confiscate it, and maybe even destroy it. Just keep it out o' sight, Ace." This caught Aislin's attention so she nodded her understanding and checked to make sure it was well hidden beneath her jacket.

Soon they were walking through the streets again, where the realities of Aurumgaard were even more stark than before. Aislin exchanged a knowing glance with Gordon, who soberly looked upon the golden-pillared fortress of legend in a new light. Attempting to lighten the mood, Aislin asked Gordon about another issue of some relevance.

"Do you think Maddie is in love with Carthack? It sure looks like it," she remarked with a sly smirk, eliciting a quiet chuckle from the dour dwarf.

"She's a pretty young lass, no doubt about it," he responded as they turned from the main boulevard into the darker sections of the city. "I think Carthack is too down-to-earth to be swayed by looks alone and well, that high-and-mighty personality she's got... yeah I don't see it happenin'. Is this the way?"

"Yes, it's a few minutes down the street, then we turn right," Aislin answered. They fell quiet as they moved further from the busy streets, down grime-encrusted tunnels that hadn't been cleaned in years. Boarded-up windows and doorways hinted at a time when this place was filled with life, now long past.

The faint drip of water echoed somewhere in the distance and what little light there was down here glistened off the slick surface. The occasional glint of feline eyes watching them from the shadows added the feeling of discomfort. They passed two dwarven guards on patrol, who gave them a courteous nod while scrutinising them carefully until they disappeared around a corner.

"Ye ever get the feelin' yer not welcome?" Gordon asked rhetorically, keeping one hand close to the weapons beneath his coat. Aislin huddled under the hood of her jacket and touched Sliver's hilt for reassurance as she led them to their destination.

"More guards," Gordon whispered as they approached the corner in the dim lantern light.

"Just like last time," Aislin confirmed, holding on to the scruff of Keg's ruffled fur. A guard stood to either side of the large stone door, though both of them seemed bored and listless. Gordon tugged thoughtfully at his beard while Aislin waited for him to decide what to do next.

"That's a lot of security for such a run-down part o' the city," he whispered, pulling back from the corner to discuss. "Doesn't look like a place o' great importance either. I just canna see why she woulda come 'ere to meet someone unless it was fer somethin' shady. I want to see what's on t'other side o' that door."

"It's probably locked," Aislin whispered, peeking around the corner. "Do you have your locksmith's tools?"

"Never leave home without 'em," Gordon confirmed. "We just need to pull the guards away from the door fer a minute." Aislin considered picking up a chunk of stone and tossing it down the passageway, but as she peered at the guards from the darkness, another idea occurred to her.

"Keg, go grab his key ring and run away," she whispered into his ear. The key ring in question hung enticingly from the belt of the older guard, a white-bearded dwarf who, judging by the way he rubbed his arms, seemed to be experiencing pain in his joints. Keg peered around the corner and then sauntered confidently forward, heading straight for the guards who were less than ten yards distant.

"I hope he's smart enough to figure this out," Aislin whispered, wondering just how much intelligence Jaz's magical bracelet had given him. The guards spotted the cat and smiled, with the younger of the two guards even crouching down to give Keg a solid pat. Aislin couldn't understand the thick dwarven language, but they seemed to appreciate the company.

Aislin bit her lip as she waited in the darkness, hoping Keg was up to the challenge and wasn't being distracted by the positive attention. Only when a cry of surprise erupted from the older guard did Aislin realise Keg had managed to get in close enough to snatch the key ring in his mouth and then run off into the darkness, narrowly avoiding their grasping hands.

Aislin and Gordon crouched down in the darkness as Keg trotted past, keeping as far away from them as he could, with the two old guards struggling to keep up. Whether it was luck or poor eyesight on their part, neither of them noticed the dwarf and the girl crouching flat against the wall as they begged for Keg to come back with the keys.

"Move," Gordon whispered urgently once they'd passed, with both he and Aislin rushing to the door to take a closer look. The lock was as ancient as the rest of the place and Gordon wasted no time putting his tools to work.

"Hurry," Aislin implored, keeping watch behind them for any sign of the returning guards. Keg must have been leading them on a merry chase however, for their sudden cries of pain – no doubt from trying to take the key ring back from the feisty cat - were quite far away. Gordon muttered under his breath as he twisted the lockpicks back and forth until finally, there was a solid 'click' and he let out a brief cry of triumph.

He turned the handle and slowly pulled the door open, holding a hand out to keep Aislin back in case there was something unpleasant inside. Nothing leaped out to swallow them whole however, so with the sound of the guard's footsteps indicating they were on their way back, Gordon and Aislin hurried through the gap and quietly closed the door behind them.

It was pitch-black inside so Aislin whispered the word of command to her magical bracelet, which lit up the area around them, revealing walls with even more corrosion, wear and grime on them. The air was damp, even more than the previous hallway, as if the moisture had been trapped down here for a long time. Ahead of them was a set of stairs leading further down into the depths of Aurumgaard.

"As I thought," Gordon whispered, his voice echoing in spite of its low volume. "We really shouldn't be goin' downstairs Ace - it's a restricted area."

"But why?" Aislin asked, increasingly curious. "This place is filthy. Like you said, there's nothing important here so why guard it?" Gordon tugged his beard and groaned quietly, as if having trouble coming up with a good reason not to look further.

"Alright, we've come this far," he finally conceded. "We look around fer ten minutes or thereabouts, then make our way out, and if there's any trouble, we run fer the stairs, got it?"

"Yes, Mister MacTavish," Aislin quietly agreed, well aware that anything could be lurking in the dark. With that out of the way, they slowly and carefully headed down the grimy stairs which ended at a long hallway with a low ceiling, not much higher than either of them. Doors leading off from the hall lined either side of the passage, which Gordon checked as they went past.

"Empty," he muttered, not bothering to close them after looking inside. Aislin peeked around him and saw large rooms devoid of anything except dust and memories, so she could only imagine what they may have been used for.

"This ain't right," Gordon whispered, more to himself than to Aislin. The look on his face was haunting, as if he'd come face to face with a legend from his people's past and been bitterly disappointed. "It's supposed to be full o' people, Ace. Three thousand years o' buildin' and diggin', deep into the earth and this is what it's come to? Where are the workers? Where's the life?"

Aislin remained silent, having no answer to this mystery, though she kept one hand close to Sliver just in case. The faint sounds of skittering along the stone floor made her jump, and at the edge of her light she saw a pair of large, six legged rats scurrying out of sight.

"Bloody voraxes, they get in everywhere," Gordon muttered.

"How come we never see them around Bracksford?" Aislin wondered.

"They mostly live underground," Gordon explained. "Towns get rats, mines get voraxes." They moved on through the empty halls, eventually arriving at a large metal door corroded from rust and time, held in place with a heavy chain which shone in the light.

"This chain hasn't been here long," Gordon remarked, following its length with one gloved hand. "Whatever secret they're trying to keep might be behind this door."

"How do we get through?" Aislin asked, looking for some kind of lock.

"Ah, padlock," Gordon responded, finding it hidden in the shadows. He set to work on it and within moments heard a satisfying 'click', shortly followed by the clatter of chains as they fell to the floor. With dreadful curiosity, they pushed open the large door and Aislin raised her arm to shine light into what lay beyond.

Unlike the previous rooms, this one wasn't empty. A vast chamber opened out before them, dark and cold, with broken old tables stacked neatly against the near wall. It was too large for her tiny light to show much, so they quietly crept inside, gazing at huge shapes looming out of the darkness. A slab of stone, half Aislin's height and just as long sat on the floor, covered in dust and cobwebs.

"This is one of the forges," Gordon breathed in awe, pointing to other stone slabs nearby. They appeared to be arranged into a circle, and it wasn't until they moved in a little closer Aislin could see what they were circling around. A wide circular pit dug into the earth contained a huge metal gourd, crumbling with age and rust which sat beneath a vast air vent above, leading to the upper levels.

"Aurumgaard is supposed to be the source o' all the metal goods fer the whole region," Gordon remarked in stunned disbelief. "This hasn't been used in decades, maybe longer."

"So where are all the young people?" Aislin asked, her voice sounding hollow in the vast emptiness. Before Gordon could answer, the sound of metal clinking somewhere beyond the sphere of light made both of them flinch. Aislin held perfectly still, silent but for the beating of her heart as they listened closely for any other sounds. The faint shuffle of footsteps caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise and she almost screamed when Gordon grabbed her by the arm.

"Run!" he cried, pulling her back the way they'd come. They hurried through the forge and made it to the heavy door and as Gordon went to close it behind them, Aislin saw the flicker of torchlight from within, hurrying towards them.

"Keep moving," Gordon grunted as he slammed the door shut with a resounding 'boom'. Aislin's heart hammered in her chest as she dashed along the corridor, barely noticing the sound of chains clanking as Gordon locked it once more. Flickers of light appeared along either side of the corridor ahead, threatening to cut off their escape route.

Hearing heavy booted steps closing in, Aislin ducked into one of the doors Gordon had left open earlier and whispered the command to extinguish her magical light. With her breath coming in short gasps, she peered through the crack in the door as two men, crouching beneath the low ceiling as they hustled past, ordered Gordon to stop where he was. They spoke with a Kurhanic accent, and Aislin knew they were in trouble.

The two men hurried off in pursuit of Gordon, who hadn't waited around to find out what they wanted, giving Aislin a chance to make a run for the exit. A brief glance down the corridor confirmed they were preoccupied with the pursuit, so she dashed through the door and up the stairs, almost tripping in the darkness but too frightened to use her light. Once at the top, Aislin was almost to the door when it swung open and four dwarven guards rushed her. She barely managed a squeal of protest before they grabbed her arms and hauled her away through the streets.

"Settle down ya wee vagabond," the old guard grunted at Aislin while she thrashed about trying to escape. "Yer mate ain't comin' to help ye. If yer lucky ye might only get a night in gaol to teach ye a lesson, but he'll be in fer it. Grown man supposed to know better than this. Oh, what's this? She's armed, lads, look out."

He'd discovered Sliver hidden beneath her back and quickly unstrapped the sheath while the others held her arms. He stuffed it into his belt without unsheathing it, thankfully, and Aislin immediately calmed down so as not to draw any more attention to it. If they were to take it out, they'd immediately know something was odd simply from its gleaming vythiric blade, let alone the mark of betrayal.

As they hauled her through the streets, Aislin spotted Keg sitting in the middle of a side street surrounded by what must have been two dozen local cats, all stalking around him in a wide circle. Although twice the size of the next largest cat, his fur was ruffled and he glared at them in anticipation of a fight.

"Keg!" Aislin cried as they closed in on him, right before the scene passed from view. The guards ignored her, guiding her to the cleaner areas of the city and directing her to a wide stairway up to the next floor. Some of the locals watched them go past with curious concern, wondering why a girl of her age needed to be monitored by no less than four guards. Now that they were in the well-lit area, Aislin noticed one of the guards was the sergeant who they'd met just outside the city upon their arrival.

"Why was the forge closed?" Aislin asked, drawing a look of alarm from the sergeant.

"Keep yer mouth shut girl," he growled, noticing the looks from the nearby people. "Yer in enough trouble as it is."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Upstairs to see me captain. We're just goin' to 'ave a little talk with ya," he assured her, though his tone wasn't very reassuring. Aislin hadn't been to this part of the city before and even in her situation, marvelled at the use of gold on just about every surface aside from the floor. It sparkled in the light from dozens of lanterns hanging along the length of the corridor and Aislin couldn't reconcile the lavish halls of the upper city with the desolate ruins below.

Presently, they arrived at an official-looking place carved out of the rock. It seemed even more lavish than the surrounding streets and Aislin glimpsed the city's flag hanging from above.

They moved along a short narrow corridor and deposited Aislin in a small room with comfortable furniture, warm rugs and a crackling fireplace. Seated at a desk at the opposite end of the room was a dwarven woman with a plait of iron-grey hair. Her brown eyes didn't move from the paper in front of her as she scratched out some notes with a quill and ink. The sergeant walked up to her and whispered something in her ear, to which she nodded.

"Sit down and be quiet," the sergeant instructed, pointing to an empty chair near the desk which she reluctantly sat in. He set Sliver down on the desk then headed for the door. Once closed, Aislin took a deep breath and tried to relax while the woman continued writing, her hands only inches away from Sliver's hilt. A small plaque perched on the edge of the desk read 'Captain Isla MacRae'. The crackle of the fire was the only noise breaking the silence and after a minute, Aislin cleared her throat very loudly, prompting the woman to glance up from her work.

She set aside the quill and paper and sat there looking at Aislin, making her more uncomfortable with each passing moment, her only movement the drumming of her fingers right next to where Sliver sat. Aislin tried not to pay too much attention to the dagger, but it was difficult with this person of authority sitting right next to it.

"That's a nasty lookin' weapon fer a little girl t'carry," the captain remarked.

"It's a tool, not a weapon," Aislin corrected.

"And what exactly were ye usin' it for on yer little excursion through our restricted areas, if I may ask?" Isla pressed. Aislin remained silent, unsure if she should elaborate or wait for help. The awkward silence was broken when suddenly the door burst open and Gordon was shoved inside, grumbling curses under his breath while the sergeant followed him through, closing the door behind him.

"Ace, are ye okay?" Gordon asked, visibly relieved at the sight of her.

"I'm fine," she assured him.

"You two are in a lot o' trouble," Isla said while the sergeant stood behind the two chairs with his arms crossed. "We don't take kindly to trespassers, Mister... MacTavish?" The sergeant nodded his confirmation of Gordon's name, which seemed to impress the lady behind the desk. "We don't often have one of yer clan visiting our fair city."

"Maybe if ye spruced the place up a bit ye'd get some more attention," Gordon sniffed. "The lower halls in particular are in a dire state of disrepair, it's a cryin' shame I tell ya."

"Yes, the lower halls," Isla repeated dryly. "How much did you see, exactly?"

"Everything," Aislin said, piping up before Gordon could answer. "We saw the men from Kurhain downstairs, and that the whole place is deserted and has been for years."

"That's unfortunate," the captain sighed. "The negotiations were supposed to remain secret, and I suppose we can't really lock ye up and throw away the key."

"Don't even try it," Gordon warned hotly. "As far as I can tell yer colludin' with the enemy and we've got some powerful friends who wouldn't 'take kindly' to our unlawful incarceration."

"Enemy?" she answered, sounding puzzled. "I wasn't aware yer home city of Stonegaard was at war with Kurhain."

"So, ye do admit to meetin' with em!" Gordon barked in triumph.

"O' course we 'ave, but they're nay our enemy, Mister MacTavish, nor I suspect, yours," Captain MacRae protested. "We've just concluded a trade deal that will allow Kurhain passage through Aurumgaard fer the foreseeable future. They're also looking to set up a permanent presence on one o' the lower floors, which is why ye bumped into 'em down there."

Both Gordon and Aislin could only stare in silent shock at the sudden and seemingly innocent revelation of Aurumgaard's collusion with Osric's new allies.

"Why would ye do such a thing?" Gordon breathed. "The Kurhanir are intent on invadin' the north and by lettin' 'em through yer city, ye'll be an accessory to startin' a war."

"It's not really my place to say," the captain hedged. "My job is to make sure you keep everythin' ye've seen to yerselves."

"Where are the children?" Aislin asked in a quiet voice, drawing a pained look from the old captain. She didn't answer immediately and toyed with the papers on her desk for an awkward moment until the sergeant spoke for her.

"They left here a long time ago, lass," he answered softly. "There's just the older generation 'ere now."

"Why?" Aislin persisted.

"What's yer name?" he asked, crouching beside the chair.

"Aislin."

"Me name's Conner. Aislin, try to understand that, when the young folk grow up, they need to start their own lives and if there's nothin' to do, they have to go elsewhere to start a new life."

"They all left? All of 'em?" Gordon asked incredulously.

"Over time, aye," Isla confirmed.

"This city is supposed to be the centre of trade," Gordon pressed, his voice growing in outrage with each moment. "One of the oldest cities in the world and a power in it's own right. Instead, I find the bowels o' the place are rotten to the core and the place is all but deserted. What happened?" The reply came from the door behind him, where a robed woman of obvious importance appeared with a tall man in elegant clothing. Aislin guessed they were both from the secret meeting she'd spotted on the previous day.

"The answer to that, Mister MacTavish," the newcomer responded, "is time."

"Councillor MacCulloch," Gordon said in recognition. "I had a feelin' ye'd be makin' an appearance at some point. I see ye've made a new friend since our last meetin', but yer bein' a little cryptic fer me and the young lass 'ere so why don't you spell it out fer us."

"If I'm to explain this, I need yer word that ye'll tell nobody outside these walls," the councillor said in her throaty voice while guards outside closed the door after she'd entered.

"Ye have it," Gordon swore.

"I won't tell anyone," Aislin added, feeling out of her depth.

"This is a gold mine, Mister MacTavish, the largest in Feydwiir," the councillor stated simply, "or should I say was. No mine is bottomless and after thousands o' years o' excavation, we simply, ran, out. Aurumgaard is broke, Mister MacTavish, and has been for decades. Me concern is keeping the doors open and what few people we have left fed, and I canna do that if there's no coin in the coffers. That's where our Kurhanic friends come in."

"What does all this mean?" Aislin whispered to Gordon, who stared at the tall man as he bowed deeply at his introduction.

"It means they've sold out," Gordon whispered in shock. "They're allied with Kurhain now, which means we're sittin' right in the middle o' the enemy's new base."

14

### Gold

Gordon spent the next few minutes in a heated discussion with the captain, most of it spoken in their guttural native tongue punctuated with a lot of finger-pointing. Aislin sat out of the way, unable to understand the words but most definitely comprehending the manner in which they were said. The councillor joined in briefly before excusing herself along with Ambassador Hoffmann, mentioning an important meeting with the King to prepare for.

The door to the captain's office opened again a short time later and Madelyn stepped through, a look of quiet exasperation on her face.

"There I was, enjoying a leisurely stroll through the shops when I'm accosted by guards," she sighed, leaning against the door jamb with crossed arms. "I thought I was about to be arrested until they explained the situation. I leave you alone in a city for a few minutes and somehow you manage to get yourselves into trouble. Don't expect me to pay for your release mind you, I've already spent most of my limited funds on more important things."

"I don't know what they told ya but there's more to it than that," Gordon grunted with a dark look at Isla MacRae.

"The Kurhanir are paying the dwarves to allow them passage through the mountains," Aislin blurted. "Osric is going to have his army unless we can find a way to stop this. Ambassador Hoffmann is on his way to see the King right now!"

"Is this true?" Madelyn asked of Captain MacRae.

"I... yes, I mean, they're about to sign the treaty," she confirmed.

"About to sign?" Madelyn repeated, revealing sudden interest in her choice of words.

"Aye, the ambassador is about to meet with His Majesty King Angus and make it official," Isla responded, growing more irritated by the moment.

"Excuse me while I confer with my colleague," Madelyn said as she pulled Gordon aside for a brief, whispered discussion. Aislin exchanged a look with Conner, who answered her curious gaze with a shrug before Madelyn turned to address the captain.

"We're wasting our time with this minor functionary," Madelyn remarked with her typical lack of tact. "As a representative of the Kingdom of Aielund, I demand to speak with the King before he meets with Ambassador Hoffmann."

"In what capacity are ye an 'official' representative?" the captain scoffed, to which Madelyn presented her hand with a small ring on one finger.

"I am Lady Angelica Madelyn Fairchild of House Fairchild, daughter of Thomas Fairchild, Lord of the Calespur Ranges," she declared in her most urbane voice. "Take me to see your King, now."

Isla wore a cold expression as she stared at Madelyn and Aislin feared she was about to throw them all behind bars.

"Sergeant, escort our guests to the royal court," she finally muttered, drawing an imperious smile from Madelyn.

"Yes," Aislin hissed in a triumphant whisper.

"Come this way," Conner instructed and, though his thick beard made it hard to tell, Aislin thought she saw a faint smile from the old sergeant.

"Bring me weapons along, we'll need 'em," Gordon asked of the captain, who gathered them up and followed them out the door. They left the confines of the office and moved further into the city where the streets were lined with more gold-trimmed buildings and columns. It was far less busy here than along the boulevard below, with only the occasional local strolling casually past. Aislin walked a little faster to catch up with Madelyn and tapped on her back.

"Wasn't your family's name disgraced?" Aislin whispered to make sure nobody important could hear.

"Well yes, but they don't know that," Madelyn confided, nodding her head to the captain and Sergeant Conner. "They seem very out-of-touch around here so I'm gambling news of my family's misfortune won't have reached Aurumgaard."

"I thought you hated using your first name," Aislin pointed out.

"I do, though it has it's uses," Madelyn grumbled. "Having a third name adds a touch of refinement which helps bolster my claim, so I'll endure it for now. Again, never refer to me by my first name."

"Why do you hate it so much?"

"I'm never telling you so don't bother asking."

"We'll see about that," Aislin murmured. "What are you going to do now?"

"With luck and a bit of coercion, I might be able to persuade the King to change his mind, because there's no way I'm letting Osric get his way on anything," Madelyn answered, flashing a tight smile at the sergeant when he looked her way. "Failing that, I plan to lie outrageously. These people don't know the sort of man they're dealing with or the things he's capable of."

Aislin was about to speak more when, to her surprise, she noticed a blur of movement in the shadows between buildings and saw the unmistakable form of Keg dashing through the streets with a dozen local cats in pursuit.

He leaped on top of a discarded wooden crate and spun around to fend them off with his long claws, before being forced to retreat against their superior numbers. Aislin briefly considered going to his aid but they sped off down the street and out of sight before she could act.

"Don't worry lass," Gordon counselled, having witnessed the brawling feline army. "I reckon e's got 'em right where 'e wants 'em."

"It didn't look that way to me," Aislin protested, having no choice but to continue on with the others. She kept an eye out for him as they walked, noticing the occasional flash of ginger from an alleyway, or a pile of boxes being knocked over. Unsure if they were supposed to stay together, Aislin waited for the right opportunity then crept away from the group, peeking in the little nooks and passages for signs of her wayward cat.

Keg and his new 'friends' seemed to have vanished for the time being so, unable to help him out, Aislin reluctantly turned back, catching up with the others before they noticed her missing. The group turned a corner and arrived at a curiously unassuming structure fashioned out of the surrounding stone, with four golden columns arranged at the entrance, each adorned with a number of bright lanterns and guarded by a royal guard equipped with shining armour and weapons.

As she moved through the shadows to join her friends, Aislin passed one of the huge golden columns and, on a hunch, went in for a closer look. The guards wore full helmets which made it easier for Aislin to avoid detection as she crept up to one of the columns. She ran a hand over the surface and found it cold to the touch, feeling very much like metal until she came across a tiny patch of stone surrounded by gold. With one fingernail, she scraped away some of the gold to reveal more ordinary grey stone underneath, leaving flakes of gold in the palm of her hand.

Cautious about being caught in the act, she crept around the other side of the column and slipped back into place beside Madelyn, drawing the suspicious gaze of Captain MacRae.

"I was looking for my cat," Aislin explained innocently. Just before they entered the royal chambers Aislin showed Madelyn the flecks of gold paint she carried in her palm.

"Maybe they really are destitute," she whispered in dismay. "Is nothing real in this place?" The room they'd entered was also covered in shining gold, from assorted vases and statuettes to gold-trimmed paintings hanging on the walls. If she hadn't just uncovered the gold paint, Aislin would have been awestruck by the wealth on display but as it was, her heart sank at the thought that every single thing here was a worthless copy.

At the opposite end of the carpeted hall a pair of doors opened and Captain MacRae ushered them into the next room, much to the annoyance of a white-bearded old dwarf with a stooped back who seemed to be in charge of the King's schedule.

"Ye canna barge in whenever ye want," he croaked at the captain's interruption. "The ambassador to Kurhain was scheduled to be next."

"He can wait ten minutes," Isla assured him, waving Aislin and the others through. "This is more important."

"Check yer weapons at the door, Captain," the old functionary grumbled. "Ye know the rules."

"Fair point," she responded, taking Madelyn's rapier and sidearm, and handing them along with Sliver to Conner who struggled to keep a grip on the unwieldy pile. The doors were closed behind them as they were escorted along a plush red carpet, which led towards a pair of raised chairs at the rear of the chamber.

"Let me do the talking and whatever happens, just go along with it," Madelyn muttered under her breath as they strolled towards the King's throne.

"I don't need to remind ye what's at stake 'ere," Gordon responded in a similarly hushed voice. "I don't know if yer full o' hot air or ye actually 'ave some backbone lass, but now's a good time to live up to yer pedigree."

More fake gold was on display here in the royal court, along with tapestries depicting grand events in Aurumgaard's history, or so Conner explained, but Aislin wasn't sure what to believe about this place anymore. On one of the thrones at the back of the chamber sat a dwarven man, large by the standards of his people with a triple-plaited beard of iron grey. An elaborate crown of gold and jewels sat upon his brow and he wore deep red robes of state. The throne next to him was empty except for a single white rose in an elegant vase.

"Yer Majesty," the captain greeted him with a curtsey which Madelyn and Aislin mimicked, while the men bowed low.

"It's not every day we have the opportunity to make a deal like this, Councillor," the king responded in a tired voice. "This couldna wait ten more minutes?"

"Sorry to interrupt yer affairs sire," she said with a nod to Madelyn, "but the lady was most insistent."

"That would be me," Madelyn said, stepping forward. "Lady Angelica Madelyn Fairchild of Aielund, Your Majesty. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"We haven't had an official visit from Aielund in nearly ten years, long before their war began," King Angus responded suspiciously, sizing Madelyn up with his squinting eyes. "What's so important ya had to barge yer way in 'ere at this particular moment?"

"Your time is precious, so I'll get right to the point. You need to rethink your deal with the Kurhanir, for one simple reason – they're in league with a despicable man bent on starting a war."

"I'm not a fool, my lady," King Angus replied testily. "An army travelling somewhere probably isn't goin' to be handin' out kittens to small children."

"If you know, then why do you allow it?" Madelyn pressed.

"They're payin' us a handsome sum o' money, that's why," the King answered simply. "It wasn't a decision I made lightly, I assure ye... not that any of this is yer business."

"Aye, we've heard ye've fallen on hard times," Gordon remarked with sympathy, stepping forward to address the King. "I've seen the empty halls down below and feel the emptiness o' yer city."

"The fabled golden columns of Aurumgaard are naught but painted stone," Madelyn added coldly. "This entire city is a lie."

"If ye've learned our secrets ye should be in gaol, or maybe even banished," Angus growled, turning an accusing eye to the captain.

"I know the law, sire," Isla protested, "but I felt ye needed to hear what they had to say. I told ye before that I think this is wrong, even though I supported yer decision."

"Some support," Angus snorted angrily, "ye bring strangers to me court with the express goal o' stoppin' the deal!"

"And I thank her for it," Madelyn purred, her voice becoming harder as she spoke. "Don't avoid the real issue here, Majesty. I don't care what your motives are, nor how you justify it to yourself, but you are choosing to ally your city with a would-be despot. Should you permit this to go ahead, Kurhain will send thousands of soldiers north to make war upon Tulsone, a kingdom currently allied with Aielund and I assure you, my Queen will not sit idly by and allow this to happen."

"Upon my return to Aielund I will inform Her Majesty of your complicity in this matter and it will not go unpunished," Madelyn continued. "We will take steps to ensure the northern highway from Aurumgaard is subject to a blockade and no soldiers or trade will pass through your gates. Your decaying city will wither and die Majesty, but it doesn't have to be this way. We don't have to be at odds, if would only you listen to your conscience and refuse this alliance."

"If I felt I had a choice, I might rethink my position," the King conceded as he slumped back on his throne. "Yer right, the once mighty city-state of Aurumgaard is a shadow of it's former self. We've been dyin' a slow death down here fer a long time, slowly sellin' off everythin' o' value as we try to figure out what to do. Those golden columns kept us afloat for years, but they're all gone now. The tolls fer usin' our road have helped, but it's barely enough."

"So then a man from Kurhain shows up, offers you a bag of gold and you think 'our troubles are over'," Madelyn exclaimed in a mocking tone. "Another country is going to pay an altogether different price because of your weakness. Perhaps you should have the decency to let your city die quietly rather than bow down to conquerors and tarnish the legacy of your ancestors with the blood of innocents."

Aislin cringed at her words, expecting the King to yell at her, but instead he returned her gaze without emotion, appearing tired and worn by the weight of his crown.

"May I speak, Your Majesty?" Aislin timidly asked, feeling out of place in this room filled with important people.

"What's yer name, lass?" King Angus asked, his voice softening as he addressed her.

"Aislin Ballard, sir," she answered with another curtsy. "I don't know much about the Kurhanir, but I do know the man they're working with.

"I will hear yer words," he quietly instructed.

"His name is Osric," she explained. "He used to be the King of Tulsone until he got kicked out. He's using the Kurhanir to fight his own people and he has powerful magic that he can use to destroy entire cities. He even managed to force a pair of dragons on to his side and tried to start a war between Aielund and the Akoran mountain people, just so he could have a chance to get back his throne."

"She's not exaggerating," Madelyn assured them. "Osric seems to have gone quite mad and he's in possession of some rather formidable ancient sorcery."

"He gave the Kurhanir plans to a new kind o' weapon," Gordon added, gesturing at Isla, who held up one of the sidearms Conner was carrying. "They stole the designs from me somehow, and they're makin' a lot of 'em, hundreds, maybe thousands o' the damn things. By allying with the Kurhanir, yer allying with Osric and I guarantee that's gonna go bad fer ya at some point."

"We're trying to track him down and put a stop to his plans," Aislin explained.

"If this 'mad king' is so powerful, how can you three hope to stop 'im?" Angus asked curiously.

"There's actually five of us, and we've stopped him once already," Aislin answered. "Thousands of people will die unless you help us stop him again."

"If Aurumgaard bars the passage of Kurhanir forces through its streets," Madelyn warned, "I will return to Aielund and explain to Queen Criosa the state of your city. There is a great deal we can do to aid you, much in the same way that the dwarven city of Ferrumgaard was aided a century ago."

"Aye, a doomed expedition that was," King Angus lamented as he looked at Gordon. "Yer people have done well up north in spite 'o that, and we have Aielund to thank. Aurumgaard may be teetering on the brink, but it brings joy to me heart to hear we still have some support in the world. But ya don't know what it is yer askin', my lady."

"Yes I do," Madelyn responded seriously. "I am asking you to stand up to tyrants, like the Aurumgaard of old. This city is a beacon of civilisation in every history book, a place of wisdom and honour. Too many lives depend on your decision for you to simply take the money and look the other way, Your Majesty."

"How many of your children travelled north?" Aislin asked, genuinely curious but drawing a powerful response from the old king. His face turned pale, as did Conner and Isla's and a heavy silence fell over the room, broken only when the old functionary entered the court and cleared his throat.

"Majesty, the Kurhanir ambassador is demanding an audience immediately," he announced. King Angus turned to Madelyn and gazed at her thoughtfully for a long moment, his expression that of a man in conflict with himself.

"I would ask ye to step into me private chambers while I speak with the ambassador," Angus requested, to which Madelyn curtseyed. Captain MacRae gestured for them to head through a door to the side of the royal court and closed it behind them. The room appeared to Aislin to be a well-appointed study, furnished with a desk, several chairs and a table laden with fresh pastries and wine for guests.

"I thought that went as well as one could expect," Madelyn remarked as Gordon perused the selection of raspberry tarts.

"That was some first rate lyin'," he remarked before he sank his teeth into one. "A pity ye canna follow through on any o' yer promises."

"Hush, the walls may have ears," Madelyn warned. Aislin wasn't concerned about any of that however, for moments after the door closed she had her ear pressed against it, trying to hear what was going on.

"Quiet, I'm trying to listen," she hissed. Both Madelyn and Gordon fell silent and followed her example, leaning against the door to try and hear the muffled voices talking on the other side.

"Did 'e just say the deal is off?" Gordon asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes, now be quiet," Madelyn hissed. The conversation outside became easier to hear as both the King and the ambassador raised their voices, a sure sign that Angus had chosen to reject the deal.

"You are prepared to turn down a vast sum of gold and not even explain to me your reasoning?" Ambassador Hoffmann asked.

"A King doesn't need to explain 'imself to anyone," Angus responded with an edge to his voice. "It's one o' the perks o' the job."

"It's not a job Majesty, it is a birthright," Hoffmann corrected, "and you should know better than to risk your people's future on a personal whim."

"I don't need to be lectured by a man from a country what has no King," Angus growled. "Nobody is more aware o' the weight I carry than me. I was King before yer grandfather was born, and I'll still be King when yer lyin' in the cold ground."

"Then just tell me why, so I can convey your reasons to my superiors in Kurhain," Hoffmann insisted. "There is too much at stake here for me to simply return and say 'King Angus, in his boundless wisdom, flipped a coin and said no'."

"Oh I like that one," Madelyn whispered in admiration. Aislin was a little outraged by this and lightly punched her in the leg, drawing a look of reproach from the cynical young woman.

"We've 'ad civil conversations these past few days Ambassador, I'd hate fer it to stop now," the King grunted irritably. "That bein' said, it was a difficult decision to say the least. Ultimately, it came down to a matter o' conscience. Would I allow a foreign power to move its army through my city, knowin' it's on the way to kill a lot o' people's children?" He paused to look at the single flower sitting on the throne next to him. "That answer, Ambassador, is no. Ye couldn't pay us enough to allow that."

"You risk making a powerful enemy, Majesty," Hoffmann warned. "The Grand Duke does not take kindly to Kings who cannot see the larger issues at stake. If nothing else, think of your legacy. Without our gold, Aurumgaard will surely falter and vanish from the face of the earth."

"We may be old, with our best days behind us," Angus pointed out, "but our sense of 'legacy' is intact. It's not bound up in these old rocks or empty mines, but in the blood of our children and their descendants and I can't in good conscience let them down. No blood will be spilled on account of us Ambassador, so go home and tell yer pretend king that Aurumgaard isn't fer sale. Ye'll have to find another way 'round, sir." Aislin held her breath as she waited to hear Hoffmann's response.

"I will convey your decision to His Grace, though I will leave your thinly veiled insults out of my report," the ambassador answered with disappointment evident in his voice. "We could have achieved much together Majesty, but now we will never know. By your leave I bid you farewell, and I hope that in time -"

"Save yer pretty words and just go," Angus interrupted. The room fell silent and Aislin dared to hope they had won.

"He did it," she whispered, turning to look at the others who wore similar expressions of hope.

"Give him a minute to leave before we enter," Madelyn advised. "I don't want him knowing we were here. I'm sure Osric remembers us." They waited a little longer, with Aislin taking a moment to take a raspberry tart from the tray as a kind of victory snack before they quietly opened the door and entered the court.

Expecting to see the King looking confident and proud, Aislin was astonished to see him slumped forward, visibly shaking and lathered in sweat. He turned and watched their approach, breathing heavily as if he'd just run half a mile.

"I'm too old for confrontations like that," he stated in a shaking voice as he mopped his brow.

"You did superbly, Majesty," Madelyn assured him. Aislin went one step further and, unaware if she should be keeping her distance, simply ran up to the throne and gave the king a hug.

"Och, yer a sweet lass," he chuckled, though his laugh faded quickly. "I just signed the death warrant o' me city. Three thousand years o' history and it all came down to that conversation. I'm the King who presided over the fall o' Aurumgaard, not to an army or anything else glorious mind ye. No, the city will go broke and simply fade away."

"Maybe, mabye not, but either way ye can hold yer head high this day," Gordon reminded him. "Ye've done yer children proud, as well as yer wife's memory."

"Aye, I could almost hear 'er during the discussion," Angus said, glancing at the white rose on what used to be the Queen's seat. "She never would've entertained the thought of takin' their gold, not fer a second. I guess I just needed a good ol' kick in the backside to remind me o' that. Can ye stay in the city a while? I want to talk more about the support from Aielund ye mentioned, my lady. I doubt it'll be enough to keep us on the map, but we can at least talk about it."

"Of course Majesty," Madelyn replied, lying through her teeth. "I'd be happy to convey your words to Queen Criosa at my earliest convenience."

"Excellent. Ye'd best head back to the inn while I clean meself up. How about ye stop by tonight and 'ave dinner with me? Bring yer other friends too, we've a lot to talk about."

"We'll be here," Madelyn replied, with all three of them bidding him farewell before being ushered out along with Conner and Isla MacRae.

"How are you going to deal with all those things you promised?" Aislin whispered to Madelyn as they left the royal court.

"I'll just make it up as I go," she confided. "If I can obtain a document with the King's royal seal on it, that would be enough for me to be granted an audience with Queen Criosa upon our return to Aielund, and I guess we'll just find out what happens from there."

"I think we've settled some issues about yer recent conduct," Isla said, oblivious to the quiet conversation taking place. She handed Gordon and Aislin their weapons with something approaching a smile on her stern face. "Be sure to -"

"What's that noise?" Aislin interrupted, having heard a strange series of popping sounds in the distance. The others fell silent and listened carefully until the noise happened again, this time accompanied by the distinct sound of people screaming in fear. A feeling of dread surged through Aislin as she realised what the noises were and exchanged a look with Gordon, who's blood drained from his face.

"Firearms," he breathed while the captain looked at him incredulously. "The Kurhanir are attackin' the city."

15

### Gates

Aislin hurried along behind Gordon and the others as they rushed down the street, moving against the rush of people fleeing the fighting. The sound of distant firearms being discharged soon grew into echoing roars when they reached the grand stairway leading down to the boulevard.

Since she was roughly the same height as most of the dwarven population, it was difficult for Aislin to see what was happening through the masses of terrified people stampeding up the stairs. Only once they cleared the area were Gordon and Conner able to take stock of the situation. They pressed up against the stairway wall and peered cautiously around the corner, weapons at the ready, with two dozen royal guards waiting at the top of the stairs for the order to move in.

"They're movin' to take the north gate over yonder," Conner reported in a hushed voice. Indeed, the sound of heavy boots stomping in unison could be heard marching along the hard stone floor not far away. "I count eighteen o' them, all tallfolks. They took the guards by surprise methinks - there's no sign o' retaliation."

"I spy a group taking the south gate," Isla added from the other side of the stairs. "They're too far away to make out solid numbers though. Me thinkin' is they're gonna hold the gates an bring more through from the south, take 'em through to the north."

"Ye don't think they're gonna take the whole city?" Gordon inquired.

"Maybe," Conner grimly replied, "but I'm not waitin' around to find out." He nodded to Isla who turned and signalled the royal guards to move in. Half drew their weapons and shields, while others readied their big crossbows as they marched down the stairs to join her. Madelyn had a sidearm in one hand and her rapier in the other, though she seemed in no hurry to charge in. Gordon then turned and took Aislin by the shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes as he spoke.

"Stay put," he ordered in no uncertain terms. With one hand clutched on Sliver's hilt beneath her jacket, she nodded her agreement and, satisfied she meant it, he turned to Isla as the royal guards stood poised to move in.

"What's the plan, sarge?" Gordon asked as he checked his pair of sidearms.

"Hit 'em with crossbows, then charge in and push 'em out the door," the captain answered. "We need to get 'em clear of the capstan so we can bring down the gate and seal 'em out. I don't wanna fight this battle on two fronts. Once that's done we move to reinforce the south." Her instructions were interrupted by the deafening sound of firearms nearby, along with screams as more people along the boulevard took cover.

"Sarge, get to it," the captain snapped.

"Archers, take position and loose," Conner ordered. The iron-clad dwarven guards rushed around the corner and raised their crossbows, quickly taking aim and loosing powerful bolts at their targets. Aislin couldn't see what was happening, but she did hear at least one of them strike true. More explosions from the Kurhanir weapons echoed along the stone walls as three of the archers were struck, dropping to the ground as their comrades took their arms and pulled them to safety.

"Charge!" Conner shouted, his battle axe raised high. Along with more than a dozen soldiers they raced around the corner, attempting to close the gap with the Kurhanir before they could reload. Lacking the armour worn by the royal guards, Madelyn and Gordon waited a moment before moving in, disappearing around the corner as they fired their weapons.

The nearby sound of metal on metal sent a shiver up Aislin's spine as she huddled against the wall, uncertain who was winning. Captain MacRae ordered the archers to support their soldiers and after reloading the cumbersome weapons, they moved in to pick off any Kurhanir they could get a clear shot at.

The fight went on for the better part of a minute before a dull rumbling sound shook the ground. Unable to stifle her curiosity any longer, Aislin peered around the corner and saw Gordon and Madelyn crouched next to a large wheel next to the wall, connected to the gate with a series of thick ropes and chains. Long wooden handles poked out of the wheel at regular intervals and it was slowly turning as, released from whatever held it in place, the weight of the huge stone gate spun the wheel on its way down.

Bodies of dwarves and men lay scattered about, some merely wounded, some bloodied and unmoving, particularly near the capstan itself which must have been the focus of the attack. The remaining Kurhanir were on the far side of the entrance, forced right back against the opening by the strength of the dwarven guard's assault. With the gate's descent increasing by the moment, the leader of the enemy soldiers took stock of his situation and ordered his men to withdraw.

The dwarven guards kept up the pressure until the gate slammed into the ground with a resounding 'boom', signalling the end of the fight, but their victory had come at a terrible price, for more than half their number had fallen in the battle. Aislin was starkly reminded of soldiers she had seen laying dying or dead years ago, and the same feelings of fear flooded through her once more.

Isla and the remaining archers hurried forward while other dwarven men and women moved to tend the wounded. Aislin joined her friends only reluctantly, fighting the urge to find some place to run and hide. Madelyn's sword was red with blood and Gordon clutched a bloody cut in his longcoat's shoulder.

"I can scarcely believe firearms cut through iron plate so well," he remarked grimly, looking down at the body of a fallen guard. Aislin peeked at the poor man briefly before turning away, noticing a hole punched straight through his breastplate.

"This is a terrible time to point it out," Conner responded with a bang of his gloved fist onto his breastplate, "but this armour is ceremonial, thin as a water cracker."

"Ye've got to be jokin'," Gordon exclaimed.

"Did they know that?" Madelyn asked, pointing at the dwarven guardsmen who perished in the assault.

"Aye, and they went in anyway," Conner confirmed, "because they swore to protect this city and its people."

"Stay focused," Isla interrupted, "we still have to secure the southern entrance."

"Please tell me you have more guards down there," Madelyn asked in hope.

"If the gate's been taken, I'd say we're all that's left," the captain responded with a hard voice. "Look through the slots and tell me what their doin' outside," she instructed one of the royal guards nearby. He saluted and removed his helmet, revealing the same grey hair and wrinkled features as the rest of the local population. He climbed a set of steps carved into the wall behind the capstan and opened a tiny cover, allowing him to peer outside from safety.

"I see a dozen of 'em settin' up 'round the entrance, Captain," he reported in a gravely voice. "They've got a few carts taken from the stalls, so it looks like they're waitin' for reinforcements."

"I intend to make 'em wait fer a long time," Isla affirmed. "Leave the fallen here, others will tend to 'em. Move south at once, keep to the sides and use cover on your approach. These noisy weapons o' theirs hit like an avalanche but they only appear to be accurate up close."

Conner led the remaining guards along the boulevard with Madelyn close behind them, while Gordon took a moment to check on Aislin.

"Just stay here, help with the wounded if ye want," he instructed softly. "We'll take care o' this." Aislin nodded as he hurried to catch up to the others, but one look at the bodies near the gate made her realise how much she needed to stop this before more lives were lost. As much as she wanted to be somewhere else, Aislin wasn't going to let her friends face danger without her.

The boulevard was all but deserted now, its stalls empty and stores bolted shut. Only the distant shouted orders of Kurhanir soldiers could be heard, growing louder by the minute as Aislin and the others closed in on the gate. When they were about a hundred yards away, they slowed right down and crept through overturned benches and chairs, seeking to close in on the enemy without being too obvious about it.

The other guards who had been posted to the southern gate seemed absent, until Aislin spotted the glint of bloodied metal from a breastplate-clad dwarven guard lying near the entrance. The Kurhanir had been ruthlessly efficient, making sure none could challenge their presence while they awaited the arrival of reinforcements. Only when Conner signalled for his group to stop did Gordon notice Aislin crouching next to him.

"What are ye doin' here?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"I'm not afraid," Aislin answered in spite of her shaking voice.

"Don't think ye have to prove anythin' to us," Gordon grunted, his attention on the dangers ahead. "Just keep low and stay out o' sight."

"When I give the signal," Conner whispered from nearby, "I want archers to shoot those bastards, and then the rest o' us are chargin' in."

"Because that worked so well last time?" Madelyn hissed in protest. "There's just as many on the south gate as there were on the north, and we've less than half the force remaining."

"Well what do ye suggest?" Conner asked with scathing sarcasm.

"Come up with another plan, because you'll be throwing away the lives of everyone here if you fail," Madelyn insisted, while Aislin's attention was caught by movement near the inn. The distinctive shape of Carthack, now fully clothed, loomed at the inn's door where he cautiously peered around the corner at the commotion less than fifty yards from his position. Barely visible by his side was Jaz's shock of dark curly hair. Aislin nudged Gordon and pointed at their friends who had actually started stealthily moving towards the gate area, using deserted market stalls as cover.

"Are they mad?" Madelyn exclaimed as the entire contingent watched Carthack and Jaz close in as best as they could. A wide expanse of open space was all that stood between the stall they hid behind and the dozen or more soldiers holding the area. Aislin wanted to get their attention and warn them away, but there was no way to do so without giving away their positions.

"I reckon Carth'd know what he's doin," Gordon suggested, just as the big man appeared to be doing something with the large, wide bench made of solid hardwood at the front of the stall. Aislin couldn't imagine how much it weighed, yet with a mighty heave, Carthack lifted the bench onto one end with a loud 'thud', and then grabbed hold of each side with his huge hands as he stooped behind it.

"He's usin' it as a shield," Conner remarked in astonishment as the noise drew the attention of the Kurhanir soldiers nearby.

"Now's our chance, aim and loose!" Conner ordered his troops, who raised their crossbows at the same time as the Kurhanir levelled their firearms at Carthack, who wasn't waiting around to be shot at. Heaving the bench off the ground, he moved as quickly as he could to the side, keeping the thick hardwood between his body and the weapons aimed at him. The deafening roar of firearms echoed through the city, though the result wasn't what the Kurhanir had expected.

The dwarven archers loosed their bolts at the enemy just as they fired, striking half a dozen successfully and throwing off their aim. Bullets smacked into random places around Carthack's position, chipping off stone and sparking off iron or simply disappearing without a trace. Only two struck Carthack's makeshift shield directly and although wood was chipped away, neither of them appeared to have gone through.

With their weapons empty, the Kurhanir were momentarily vulnerable and Conner took advantage by ordering his troops forward. Madelyn and Gordon followed them in with a crack of thunder from their own sidearms. Aislin crouched low and watched with wide eyes as the dwarven soldiers bellowed challenges to the enemy force, attempting to charge across the open area before the Kurhanir could bring loaded weapons to bear.

Carthack knew this too and with an audible grunt, he hefted the bench a little higher and charged at the nearest soldier. From this distance, Aislin couldn't see his face but she imagined he wasn't pleased at the sight of a giant man wielding a huge bench bearing down on him. He furiously tried to reload his weapon in time and nearly made it, right before Carthack ran straight into him, bench-first, flattening him up against the wall next to the gate.

The big man didn't wait to see the predictable result. He lined the bench up with a few other Kurhanir soldiers and with an impressive feat of strength, heaved it through the air. They were only a few yards distant and it struck two of the surprised soldiers with resounding force, knocking both off their feet.

A third soldier had just finished reloading his sidearm but, sensing the impending danger, Carthack leaped forward and kicked the bench hard enough to screech along the flagstones, knocking the soldier down before he could shoot. Two other men a little further away raised their weapons with shaking hands so Carthack dived behind the bench, which deflected or absorbed the worst of the damage.

At the other end of the battle Conner's men charged into the ranks of the soldiers and engaged in close quarters combat, using their short swords and hammers against the lighter rapiers and broadswords of their foes. Madelyn, head and shoulders above all of the dwarven guards, pivoted and spun, keeping the enemy off guard as she practically danced through their ranks, slashing and stabbing with her rapier at every opportunity.

Carthack was pinned behind his bench, for while those soldiers closest to him were too afraid to close in, they had their firearms reloaded and wouldn't allow him to get away either. Aislin had been so focused on the battle that she'd missed seeing what Jaz had been up to. She had placed Conrad's metal head on a short stool at the market stall and pointed his ruby eyes towards the fight.

She whispering something into his 'ear' and moments later, two streams of magical fire erupted from his eyes, scorching one of the Kurhanir soldiers. With this distraction, Carthack grabbed the legs of his bench and heaved it forward, swinging it to one side and then back again, forcing soldiers back with each sweep until a stray bullet struck him on the arm, forcing him to drop the bench right in front of the open gate.

Unsure where the shot had come from, Aislin squinted her eyes against the brightness of daylight coming from outside and saw movement in the distance. She gasped at the realisation that dozens, if not hundreds of Kurhanir soldiers were approaching and within minutes, would be within the city itself.

Convinced the remaining soldiers were too busy fighting the dwarves to notice, Aislin dashed across the other side of the boulevard and then quickly made her way to Jaz, who clutched at her satchel as she watched Conrad blast another soldier with his fiery eyes.

"There's more coming," Aislin warned, "a lot more."

"Close the gate!" Carthack roared from his position behind the bench, while he clutched at the red stain spreading along his arm. Looking over at the others, Aislin could see the four remaining Kurhanir soldiers had been pushed through the gate and had taken cover against its edge, where they took turns shooting their noisy weapons at the dwarven guards.

Few of them remained standing, with Madelyn and Gordon both pulling injured guards away from the fight to the safety of nearby cover, while the sound of bullets zipping past became more common by the moment. Conner, sporting a streak of blood down the side of his face, heard the news of more soldiers approaching and pointed at the big capstan not far from where Aislin and Jaz stood.

"What's he saying?" Jaz shouted in confusion.

"We canna get to the gate control!" Conner bellowed from across the boulevard as a bullet glanced off the floor right in front of him. "Ye'll have to drop the gate yerselves!"

"Okay, how hard could it be?" Jaz asked with a curious look at the capstan. Both she and Aislin moved in closer to investigate the complex mechanism and its tangle of ropes and chains.

"I think this lever should release it," Jaz surmised after a quick study and with some effort, managed to release the mechanism. After a few more seconds, it became readily apparent that nothing was happening. The sound of rushing boots was quite audible now and Aislin's heart raced, expecting them to burst through the open gate at any moment.

Jaz was taking a more practical approach, frantically examining the capstan even closer to find out what she did wrong.

"It wasn't me!" she protested as Aislin glared at her in consternation. "It's simple enough just to release the ropes, but something's holding it in place. I don't think it's an emergency brake, I would have seen..."

"Can you close it?" Aislin almost shrieked, clutching onto Sliver's hilt with white-knuckled tension.

"Give me a minute," Jaz cried, lifting the hem of her dress and clambering over some ropes so she could get closer to the mechanism inside. Aislin looked up and saw only a twisting array of ropes and chains, all linked to the gate. It was too dark above her to see it properly, but it appeared to be held in place above the entrance and might drop if it was set free.

More bullets whizzed through the entrance, several of them striking Carthack's bench, from which chips of wood flew as it was gradually whittled down. His amber eyes stared at Aislin not out of anger, but concern for her and the others. On the other side of the entrance, Gordon and Madelyn shot back at the oncoming army in an attempt to slow them down. There were only moments remaining and it was then that Aislin had a desperate idea.

"What happens if the ropes are cut?" she asked Jaz.

"The whole thing would come down very fast," came the muffled reply, for she was upside down with her head concealed by the capstan. Suddenly realising what she had to do, Aislin jumped on top of the capstan and brought Sliver's edge to rest against the side of the thickest rope she could see.

"Don't fail me now," she murmured as she sawed the dagger's keen edge against the rope. Twine rippled away from the bulk as Sliver went through it like a hot knife through butter and within moments, the thin remainder of the rope snapped. Other ropes creaked under the increased strain so Aislin sliced another and another until the sudden rattle of chains and clanking of gears announced the impending closure of the gate.

Cringing against the inevitable crash, Aislin covered one of her ears with her free hand and huddled into a ball as the gate whistled through the air on its way down, just before the army was about to burst through the entrance. The massive gate struck the ground with a deafening boom that shook the earth, knocking Aislin from her precarious perch. She landed awkwardly on the ground with her ears ringing from the noise, which echoed around the cavernous space before silence finally descended.

"A little warning would have been nice," Jaz remarked, rubbing her head as she emerged from the other side of the capstan, covered in dust and grease. Aislin shrugged, making no apologies for taking action and instead focusing her attention on the huge gate. It was constructed of metal beams supporting huge metal and stone plates criss-crossing the entire gate, yet through it she could hear the faint sounds of firearms, and the distinctive 'ping' of bullets bouncing off the exterior.

"They're not giving up, are they?" Aislin asked nobody in particular, though Jaz shook her head in reply, her eyes wide at the prospect that this affair wasn't over.

"I found out what happened though," she said, pointing at a crowbar poking out of the far side of the capstan. "They jammed the mechanism to prevent anyone closing it. Good thing you managed to cut the ropes, Ace, it would have taken Carthack to pull that thing out."

Moans and cries for help became louder as the few who weren't injured in the attack moved to help those who were. Aislin got back on her feet and jogged over to Carthack, who was back on his feet in spite of his injury.

"Am okay," he rumbled, peering at his bloodied arm. "Ruined new tunic though."

"I'm sure Jaz won't even care," Aislin answered, grateful they were all still alive. "I've never seen anyone use a table like that before."

"First time for me too," Carthack agreed. Jaz approached with her jar of salve in hand and immediately went to work patching him up. Aislin hurried over to join Gordon, who was bandaging Conner's wounded shoulder. Many other guards lay around the area, their ceremonial armour pierced in many places and red staining their tunics. Along with a few local shop keepers, Madelyn was tending the wounded and although she seemed unharmed, her pale expression revealed she was badly shaken by the encounter.

"I don't much like yer invention, Gord," Conner muttered to Gordon before noticing Aislin's approach. "What took so long closing the gate, lass? Ye could nay have cut it any finer if ye tried."

"My friend pulled the lever but nothing happened," Aislin explained. "It turns out the soldiers had jammed it so I cut the ropes with my knife."

"Ye cut through a bunch o' rope, each of 'em five inches thick using yer little knife in what, five seconds flat?" Conner asked incredulously. "Yer just a wee slip of a girl!"

"It's a sharp knife," Gordon grunted with a sideways glance at Aislin. "Ye did alright, Ace. Yer okay, yeah? Be a good lass and fetch some more bandages, we've a lot of hurt people to help."

"Okay," she answered, grateful to be away from scrutiny. She went to Madelyn's side and handed out bandages and cloth to clean with, freshening the water up when the bowls were too stained with blood to see the bottom.

"Are you okay?" Aislin asked of Madelyn, who barely registered her presence.

"Not really, but I'll be relieved as soon as we get out of here."

"You don't look hurt," Aislin remarked after a quick glance.

"My scars are on the inside," Madelyn whispered. "Now go help someone else, I'm not in the mood."

Not willing to press her luck, Aislin moved a little further away and helped an older couple with their injuries. Carthack and Jaz soon joined them and with the help of her salve, they quickly saw to the needs of the locals. It was while she was busy dabbing a scrape on an old dwarven lady's forehead that Aislin noticed King Angus and Captain MacRae had arrived.

The old King hobbled along, leaning on a walking stick as he took in the results of his decision to refuse the Kurhanir treaty. His expression was sombre and pensive as he moved through the ranks of the wounded, offering a word or two of comfort.

Seeing their approach, Conner shooed Gordon away and rose to his feet, managing to salute both of them as more bullet impacts on the gate could be heard.

"The city is secure, sire," he explained, "though we took a beatin' in the process."

"They seem pretty intent on gettin' back in," Angus remarked.

"You know as well as I do, they're not gettin' through those gates," Conner assured him. "I've sent men to watch on the north and south approaches, both of which appear to be covered by Kurhanir forces."

"How many are there outside this one?" Isla asked, nodding at the nearby gate.

"Best guess is around five hundred," Conner reported with a catch in his voice. This number hung in the air for a long moment, interrupted when something huge hit the gate with immense force.

"What in the hells was that?" Isla blurted as a ripple of consternation spread through the nearby people.

"That was a cannon," Gordon answered in a flat voice. "Think of it as one of these wee firearms, but three yards long and weighing the better part of a ton."

"A bloody siege engine," Isla stated, drawing a nod from Gordon. A second blast hit the gate, which shuddered under the impact.

"Will it hold?" Madelyn asked as she licked her lips.

"It's a solid gate, but cannons are more powerful than any other siege engine," Gordon explained. "It'll hold for a while though how long, I canna say."

"This city is the only way north, yes?" Carthack asked.

"Aye, 'tis the reason Aurumgaard was built right 'ere," Conner responded.

"I was King when the Kurhanir invaded the south, long ago," Angus explained, "and I wanted nothin' to do with 'em even then. Didn't want to fight 'em, but wasn't about to give 'em free reign to move north either, at least, not until they dropped an ungodly amount o' gold at me feet. I freely admit that I had a moment o' weakness, and that's probably why this attack happened. All of ye have me profound apologies."

"This might have happened even if you'd refused their first offer," Madelyn suggested.

"We'd rather die on our feet than live on our knees," Captain MacRae added, drawing a wan smile from the old King.

"Look, this way of last resort," Carthack added, having produced a map of the region from his new longcoat. "They cannot go through desert to east, cannot go through swamp to west. We must hold here."

"And we can't leave, because they're blocking both gates," Madelyn pointed out. "Unless we try to break through the northern pass, we're cut off from the rest of the world."

"We don't have the resources to hold 'em off forever," Isla spat as another impact struck the gate.

"Not forever," Carthack rumbled. "Mountain pass fills with snow in winter. We hold until then, they must pull back."

"The Kurhanir must know this too," Isla concluded. "They have to break through before the first snow falls or their campaign is over before it begins."

"How long is that?" Aislin asked in a quiet voice.

"It's nearly autumn now so, if it's an early winter, maybe eight or nine weeks?" Conner answered grimly. "If it's late, well, it could be as long as three months."

A deathly silence ended the discussion, with the growing horror of their situation punctuated with another impact on the gate.

16

### Siege

The city was a hive of activity over the next few hours, as the boulevard was cleared of the wounded and turned into an armed camp, with the drumbeat of impacts on the gate providing a continuing reminder of what awaited them outside. Aislin did what she could to help, usually by carrying bandages, buckets of water or other supplies to and fro, all the while nervously glancing at the gate.

During this time Gordon, Madelyn and the others were discussing their options with King Angus and his staff in a closed meeting, while Sergeant Conner and his few uninjured soldiers kept a cautious eye on the gate. Though their hands never strayed far from their weapons, Aislin knew that if the gate was breached there was little they could do to stop what came next.

Judging by the worried faces around the city, everyone else knew this as well as she. The only one who didn't seem concerned was Keg, who finally showed up as Aislin trotted along the boulevard carrying a bucket of water.

"There you are," she sighed with relief, spotting him sitting casually on the street corner. He mewed in recognition and lashed his tail, but stayed where he was as a local cat, grey with white paws, moved past with a cautious glance at the big ginger tom. Keg stared back and, just as the grey cat thought it could slink past, lashed out with his paw. Startled and humiliated, the grey cat bolted away.

"I guess you showed them who's boss," Aislin remarked, crouching next to him to give the purring cat a rub. "Don't be too mean, we're going to be stuck here for a while." The sound of familiar voices caught her attention as her companions, accompanied by Captain Isla, emerged from one of the more important buildings and headed towards the centre of the boulevard, where a number of wooden crates had been stacked. When Isla clambered to the top, she was visible all the way to the south gate and her voice carried almost as far.

"If I can 'ave yer attention," she shouted, drawing the eyes of everyone within fifty yards. "We've lost some good people in this attack, men and women we've known fer years but we nay have time to mourn 'em now. We're under the pump here so I won't bandy words with ye. We've found ourselves under siege and His Majesty decrees that not one more o' those war-mongerin' Kurhanir bastards is gonna make it through to the north."

"I need everyone pitchin' in if we want to survive this, so I want archers stationed on both gates at all times, three on the north and ten on the south. The arrows slots may be five hundred years old but they work just fine, so make sure the enemy know we're nay sleepin' on the job."

"Gladly," Madelyn responded to this request, taking a crossbow from a nearby rack and inspecting it.

"Anyone still able to fight hand-to-hand, don't stray far from the south gate," Isla went on. "The gate's older than the arrow slots by about a thousand years and we don't know how long she'll hold. If there's a breach, we'll need warm bodies to hold it until we can plug the gap." She turned to Gordon and gestured for him to step forward.

"This is a recent visitor from our sister city o' Stonegaard, Gordon MacTavish. As the only one 'ere who's been in a siege this century, King Angus has placed 'im in charge o' seein' to our defences, so when he talks, ye'd better listen." She stepped down from the crates and Gordon took her place, clearing his throat before he spoke.

"It's a terrible way to meet new people, but here we are," he bellowed. "I'll get right to it – I need carpenters, blacksmiths, and anyone with knowledge o' the forge works down below, especially if someone knows o' some hidden cache o' supplies like iron or coal. I want every guard wearing one o' them flimsy breastplates to take it off so as we can melt 'em down and turn fifty useless ones into twenty proper ones." One by one the guards pulled off their thin breastplates and while that was going on, half a dozen aged dwarves shuffled up to Gordon's crate to speak up.

"Ewan MacAliese, at yer service," the one at the front greeted him with a slight bow of his head. Aislin had trouble guessing the age of the long-lived dwarves, but he looked old enough to have seen when the city was built, though she kept this observation to herself. "I worked as a smith fer eighty years afore me retirement, sir. Was the last Master of the Forge and it was me great sorrow to shut the whole thing down. I wouldn't let anyone else fire 'er up besides me, while I still draw breath."

"We could be at it fer months mate, so I hope ye've still got some strength in them arms," Gordon responded respectfully.

"I ain't in me grave just yet, Mister MacTavish," Ewan assured him, "and with the help of these spry youngn's behind me, we'll get yer armour situation well sorted." Apparently, he was referring to the slightly younger old dwarves behind him, each of them sporting immense white beards and hair to match.

"Just call me Gordon, lads," he answered, "and uh, ye'd better trim those beards before you start workin' on the forge. It'd be a shame to see ya go up in flames." There were muted grumblings from the rest of the dwarves as they patted their facial hair fondly, reluctant to see it go.

"Yer a hard taskmaster Gordon," Ewan responded, "but I like that in a foreman. We'll head downstairs and get started."

"I'll be along as soon as I've sorted everyone else out," Gordon assured him. As the blacksmiths hobbled away, another group of twenty elderly dwarves approached, this time announcing themselves as carpenters.

"Yer first task," Gordon instructed, "is to tear down the upper floors o' the inn and anywhere else ye've got openings out onto the mountainside. They stick out like a sore thumb and if I were the Kurhanir commander, I'd be sending men up the side o' the mountain with an aim to climb in through the windows. Then use the materials to close the gap good and proper - I don't want any unexpected visitors in the middle o' the night."

"Aye Mister MacTavish, we'll get it done," croaked an elderly dwarf, with those behind him rumbling their agreement. The dull rumble of more cannon impacts on the gate interrupted their conversation.

"Feisty buggers ain't they," the head carpenter named Dugal remarked. "Don't worry mate, we'll show 'em what fer."

"Yeah we will," Gordon answered with conviction. "Bring any leftover wood from the inn down to the gate, we'll need to seal up any breaches that happen. Alright, get to work lads, I've got to see to our food supplies," he ordered as he headed for the stairs. "Ah, just the two I was lookin' fer," Gordon remarked as he spotted Aislin and Keg sitting on the side of the street. "Come with me, I've a job that needs doin'." They got to their feet and hurried along to keep up with Gordon who, in light of recent events, had good reason to rush.

"Everyone's really eager to pitch in," Aislin remarked as they walked briskly towards the stairway down.

"Aye, they're a fine bunch," Gordon agreed with a wisp of a smile. "The thing about getting to their age is, ye've either learned to not let things bother ye anymore, or ya turn into a grumpy old bugger. I'm pleased to say everyone I've met 'ere has a hardened, positive attitude and that's a good start in a siege."

"Can we really last three months in here?"

"I don't know Ace, but we're gonna try," Gordon answered grimly. "We both know the power o' these weapons I designed, and now they're bein' used against us."

"That must be upsetting."

"I'm tryin' not to think about it," Gordon confided. "Honestly, if I didn't have so much to do right now I'd probably be huddled in a corner someplace."

"Are you scared?" Aislin asked in earnest.

"Aye, but again, tryin' not to think about it," Gordon answered with a sideways glance at her. "Are you?"

"Yes, but not as much as I was. Thank you for being honest," Aislin added. "My dad used to lie to 'protect me' from things he didn't want me to worry about, but I could always tell and that just made me more worried."

"Well, he was just tryin' to be a good father," Gordon suggested as they headed down the stairs which were now lit by lanterns the blacksmiths had hung along the way.

"I miss him," Aislin remarked in a quiet voice, her thoughts far away.

"If we do this right, we'll see 'im again in the near future," Gordon assured her as they emerged into the forge works. "Look, the Kurhanir might have me weapons, but this place is as solid as they come. There ain't much left down 'ere but what remains is all good quality iron and stone. If we use what we have the right way, I reckon we can see out the whole year in safety if we have to."

"I hope not," Aislin responded soberly, wondering when she'd see the sun again. The long hall ahead of them led to the central forge where Ewan and his team were just beginning their work, but Gordon, following notes written on a piece of paper, took one of the doors leading off in a different direction.

The area was still dark so Aislin lit her magic bracelet and saw that this hall looked much like any other. After a few minutes of walking through stone corridors they arrived at a chamber with a very high ceiling and a number of large doors along its walls.

"What's this?" Aislin inquired, unable to see the top of the room.

"These are silos, where they store grain from traders and farmers along the northern highway," Gordon explained. "The top of each silo is just below the boulevard, so farmers just pour it in the top and millers come down 'ere to get what they need." Before he could speak further, the sound of tiny feet skittering across the cold stone floor sent a shiver along Aislin's spine.

"Rats," she exclaimed as Keg's ears pricked up.

"I told ye, there ain't no rats down here," Gordon reminded her.

"Why?"

"The voraxes ate 'em all." He crouched in front of Keg and looked him in the eyes as he continued to speak. "Your job is to keep this area clear o' vermin. There's hundreds of the little blighters so ye might -"

Before he could finish, keg meowed and a heartbeat later, dashed into the shadows from Aislin's side, chasing what was most likely a six-legged rat-like critter.

"Go get 'em Keg," she called as the sound of more voraxes running for cover echoed around the chamber.

"I thought I'd have a harder time convincing 'im to do the job," Gordon remarked.

"He's a proper mouser, you know that," Aislin pointed out.

"Aye, but I'm told there's an infestation o' the buggers, so he'll have 'is work cut out fer 'im. The other cats won't come near this place 'cause the voraxes are too big to handle. Keg needs to keep their numbers down or they'll eat all the grain afore winter gets 'ere." The sound of screeching from the darkness indicated Keg was already on the job.

"Well, I guess we don't need to stand around watchin' so we'll let 'im crack on with it," Gordon suggested. "Ye might want to check in on 'im from time to time and see how he's doin'."

"Of course, but what do you need me to do?" Aislin asked, eager for an assignment.

"Yer only little Ace, but ye can help out anyone what needs it," Gordon answered. "They're a proud people around 'ere and not likely to ask fer help, so help 'em anyway but do it in a way they don't think yer doin' it because they're old, understand?"

"I'll figure something out," Aislin assured him as they left the confines of the silos and headed back to the forge. A few of the old blacksmiths were busy cleaning out their workshops, while two more were just arriving from downstairs, carrying heavy sacks over their shoulders.

"Young Hamish 'ere found some coal we can use," the first of them announced. "It'll only last us a couple o' days but I reckon there's more hidden down below."

"I'll take what I can get," Gordon replied, slapping each of them on the back as they went past. While they were getting ready to light the forge fires, Jaz appeared from the hallway carrying a bunch of rolled-up papers in her arms.

"Mister MacTavish, could I have a word?" she inquired. "I have a project here that requires your expertise."

"What've ye got there?" he responded curiously. Aislin moved closer to shed light on the papers as Jaz crouched and spread them on the stone floor. Upon each piece were sketches and scribbled mathematical equations far beyond Aislin's understanding. What she did see however, was the shape of an armoured man drawn clearly amongst the complex notes.

"I need to make a body for Conrad, and I don't have the strength to work the forge," Jaz explained.

"What were ye plannin' to make this body from?"

"Metal, preferably iron," she answered, drawing a faint groan from Gordon.

"I was afraid ye were gonna say that. Look, a lot o' things are in short supply and good quality iron is one of 'em."

"Really?" Jaz pressed. "I see huge chains around here that don't seem to be doing much. Let's melt them down and forge them into a body."

"Is it worth the effort?" Gordon retorted. "We've a million things to do already, Jaz."

"I'm no engineer, but I know a little bit about the laws of nature," she responded. "Sooner or later that gate is going to breach, and when it does we've Carthack, Madelyn and two dozen old dwarves with toy weapons and armour to hold back an army. We need allies, and tough ones at that. When I'm done, Conrad could hold that gate all by himself! Bullets will just bounce off his metal body, just think of it."

"That sounds absolutely smashing," Aislin remarked, as Gordon turned to address the blacksmiths.

"Hey Ewan, do ye think we've enough coal to melt down a few of those whopping great chains over yonder?" he called.

"Nay, we've barely enough to get new armour forged mate," came the shouted reply. "Unless ye can magic up some coal, that's about all we can manage."

"I'll go downstairs and look," Aislin offered.

"Marvellous, I'll come too," Jaz responded, a wide smile brightening her dark features. "Oh look, Mister MacTavish is scowling in disapproval again."

"I just think it might be a little dangerous for two girls to go wanderin' around, is all," Gordon protested.

"How deep does this place go, anyway?" Jaz inquired, which Gordon repeated to the other dwarves.

"Three hundred and eighteen levels," Ewan shouted back, "but last I heard half o' those were shuttered and deemed unstable. Aislin gaped in disbelief at the sheer size of the place, unable to comprehend the scope.

"That's a long way down," Jaz mumbled in awe.

"Three thousand years of diggin' will do that," Gordon said with an expression of pride.

"Are there monsters?" Aislin asked of Ewan.

"Of course not, what sorta place ye think we're runnin' here?" he shot back.

"We'll be fine then," Jaz assured Gordon, who seemed dubious but finally relented.

"Don't lose track o' time," he advised. "It's startin' to get late already so take a bite to eat if yer plannin' to be away fer more than an hour."

"I've some bread and cheese here we can nibble on," Jaz assured him as she headed for the stairs with Aislin tagging along close behind. They paused at the top of the stairwell and peered down into the darkness, feeling small and insignificant compared to the task before them.

"How long would it take to hit the bottom if you fell?" Aislin asked in a voice that sounded small in the vastness of the space.

"I don't think I want to know," Jaz replied with a shudder. Pushing the thought out of their minds, they headed down to the next floor and started searching through every door they came across. Much like the forge level, the place was dusty and covered in cobwebs. Just about every room had been cleared out, much to the dismay of the two young explorers who had hoped to find some hidden treasures or something of interest.

"They think they're broke, but I think the dwarves are overlooking their untold bounty of cobwebs," Jaz remarked dourly as she dusted her shoulders.

"They couldn't have sold everything on every floor," Aislin responded. "Let's keep going." And so they did, travelling from room to room, floor to floor, hour after hour, stopping now and then to snack on cheese sandwiches and to rest a little, finding the darkness oppressive and the air stale. Their magical lights brought the only illumination to the gloom, revealing centuries of neglected spaces and the occasional gleam from vorax eyes peering at them from the shadows.

It wasn't until they reached floor number eight that they finally discovered something of interest, hidden behind a door that took both of them to shove open. Aislin's heart fluttered for an instant when her light reflected off a tall armoured shape looming on the far side of a small room.

"I don't think it's occupied," Jaz assured her after a moment of doubt. They crept into the room and upon closer inspection, discovered that they were looking at a suit of old plate armour fitted to a stand. Next to it was a bench with a few rusty old tools lying about and metal buckets that were rotting away in the dank conditions.

"That's too big for a dwarf," Aislin remarked as she gazed up at the suit. Despite a layer of rust beneath the cobwebs, it seemed otherwise intact.

"Seems to be roughly the height of a man," Jaz said after a cursory examination. "A man who ate seven meals a day, perhaps. Look at the size of that breastplate! Gordon could probably curl up inside that and nobody would ever find him."

"There's coal in those buckets, too," Aislin exclaimed in triumph despite her fatigue.

"How are we going to haul this upstairs, I'm already exhausted," Jaz complained.

"We're not," Aislin answered with a wink. After making sure they knew how to find the place again, they made the arduous climb back upstairs to the forge where Gordon and the blacksmiths were stoking the furnace. Although pleased to learn of the little cache of supplies, the elderly dwarves shared the girls' lack of enthusiasm for hauling it all back to the forge. Fortunately, Carthack soon arrived carrying a load of blankets and pillows taken from the soon to be demolished inn.

A sweet smile from the girls was all it took to convince him to haul the supplies they'd found, so after Jaz told him where to find the cache, he deposited the blankets in a nearby room, grabbed a lantern from a wall and headed for the stairs. Feeling utterly spent, Aislin decided she'd had enough for one day and wrapped herself in blankets, in a room a few dozen yards from the forge and was asleep within minutes.

A dull rumbling sound woke her some time later, and she discovered Keg sprawled under the blankets by her side. Aislin had no idea what time it was, and when she finally untangled herself she peered through the doorway to see what was happening. The dwarves had the furnace up and running, and a blaze of fiery light streamed across the floor.

Most of the dwarven blacksmiths were at work pouring out molten iron from a huge black pot and running it through a rolling press to flatten it, while one of the others was hammering at a flat piece of metal that had already cooled, gradually shaping it with expert hands into a new breastplate. Much closer to her was Carthack, Ewan and Gordon, who were inspecting the suit of armour Aislin and Jaz had discovered earlier.

"I remember it now," Ewan blurted suddenly, "It was me own master who was commissioned to forge this suit. I haven't seen it in a century or more."

"Big man," Carthack remarked.

"Aye he was at that," Ewan agreed. "He was the King o' Clydach, the swampy lands to our west. Not a major kingdom by any measure, but the man had a big appetite and the money to pay for it."

"So why was it left to gather dust like this?" Gordon inquired.

"As I recall, 'e died before 'e could take delivery. Ate 'imself to death I think, and they never paid fer the armour so we kept it."

"Not a pretty way to go," Gordon responded grimly. "So what do ye think?"

"About what?" Ewan asked, seeming a little vague all of a sudden.

"Modifying it to fit our big friend 'ere," Gordon patiently reminded the old smith.

"Oh? Well, sure, we can do anything ye want Gord, but it'll take time and we'll need more coal. This one's a thick suit and we'll need to thin it out a bit to bring it up to yer friend's dimensions. Gotta heat it up to do that."

"Do I really need it?" Carthack asked, peering down at his diminutive companions from the lofty heights around his head.

"Ye'll be needed to guard the gates, mate," Gordon explained, "and we can't have ye on the front line without some proper armour."

"It slow me down," Carthack complained, hefting one of the gauntlets to feel the weight.

"Better to be slow than dead," Ewan pointed out with a wink. "Let's just get ye measured up here," he added, taking out a tape measure and peering up at Carthack's towering form. "Someone get me a ladder," Ewan shouted to the others.

"Mister MacTavish?" Jaz called from the other side of the busy chamber, where she was attempting to pull down a huge chain from where it hung on the wall. "Could you give me a hand here?"

"I told ye not to try doin' that yerself," Gordon admonished her. "We'll get to yer metal friend soon enough. Oh, mornin' Ace, I didn't notice ye over there."

"How long was I asleep?" Aislin asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Well, it's round about noon just now so I'd say 'a while'," Gordon answered with a chuckle. "Look, I hate to ask this of ye but ye seem to have a knack for sniffin' out supplies. Ye can handle yerself downstairs and ye've got yer little light there so maybe ye could take another look 'round fer coal?"

"Right after breakfast," Aislin sighed, resigning herself to another day of walking around in the darkness. Behind her, Keg emerged from the blankets, stretched and yawned before trotting off towards the silos to continue his one-cat crusade against the city's giant rat monsters. Weary from the last day's activity, Aislin headed upstairs to eat and noticed the archers at the gate were very busy.

A walkway above the gate itself allowed the defenders access to archery slots, through which they'd shoot their crossbows at the throng gathered outside. Madelyn was crouched next to a slot, a crossbow in hand as she helped with the defence. Every time she loosed a bolt at one of the enemy outside, the distinctive sound of bullets bouncing off the metal could be heard, as they returned fire, trying to score a lucky hit against the archers.

Madelyn was quick and spry, keeping her exposure to a minimum while some of the other dwarves weren't quite so fast. One of them cried out in pain as he was struck by a random bullet, falling away from the slot with blood coursing down the side of his face.

His comrades helped him from the walkway where he was tended to by women with bandages and poultices, adding to the ever growing list of the wounded. His place was quickly taken by another guard, as Conner shouted orders from down below to keep up the pressure.

"If we can keep 'em busy, they'll have less time to shoot the gate," Captain MacRae confided, having moved next to Aislin without her noticing. "Yer Lady Angelica is quite a sharpshooter, by my count she's taken down fourteen men so far and would have been more, but the Kurhanir have set up wooden mantlets to each side of their cannons to protect the men. Every one of them we take down now is one less we have to deal with when the gate falls." Aislin noticed her voice sounded drained and suspected she hadn't rested since before yesterday.

"Don't worry, Mister MacTavish and my friend Jaz have some surprises for them," Aislin assured her, drawing a thin smile from the old dwarven captain.

"Ye'd best tell 'em to hurry up lass, or this is going to be the shortest siege in history," Isla answered before leaving Aislin with her thoughts. With a growing feeling of dread, she hurried back downstairs and watched the team slaving away near the hot furnace trying to turn a pile of scrap into their only hope for holding the gate.

Gordon and Carthack were grabbing chains, old shovels and picks, any metal they could find and throwing them into a pile, while Jaz fussed over her designs, guiding the others to find what she needed. They didn't need prodding, for it appeared they were already working as fast as they could. If Aislin didn't find more coal to keep the furnace stoked, none of it would matter because they couldn't possibly stand up to the army outside without the armour being forged within.

She gathered some supplies and headed for the stairs, feeling the weight of responsibility on her shoulders but determined to do her part. With the sound of the dwarves hammering away at the molten iron fading behind her, Aislin descended into the depths of Aurumgaard with only her tiny magical bracelet to light the way, this time, all alone in the darkness.

17

Shadows

Maximilian had no love for paperwork, yet he gave this current assignment his undivided attention. He'd hardly slept for the last few nights as he pushed himself to make his soldiers ready to send to the southern front in only a few short weeks.

Though his expression was impassive as always, deep inside he burned at the rebuke he'd received from his commanders and yearned to absolve his reputation, but more than that, he simply couldn't escape the facts before him – his country and its leadership were bent upon supporting Osric's claim to the throne at any cost and Max refused to sit idly by and let it happen.

A commotion taking place in the courtyard below caught his attention, distracting him enough to draw him to the window in his office high above. To his astonishment, he spotted Kurhanir soldiers rounding up supplies and packing them onto a dozen wagons. Hundreds of his freshly trained men were assembling nearby, their packs laden with equipment. Tossing aside his writing quill, Max grabbed his longcoat and stormed downstairs, ignoring the respectful salutes given by his men as he swept into the courtyard.

His expert eyes scanned the throng of soldiers, looking for someone in charge and spotted Yuri engaged in a heated discussion with a burly, balding sergeant, his arms crossed and an expression of stubborn resolve hardening his already stern features.

"I have my orders, Lieutenant," the sergeant answered in a voice made coarse from shouting.

"No order allows you to simply walk into a fortress and commandeer its standing forces, nor steal it supplies," Yuri spat, as angry as Max had ever seen him.

"This one does," the sergeant retorted, shoving a piece of paper into Yuri's hands.

"What is the meaning of this?" Maximilian asked as he approached.

"Sir," the sergeant greeted him, snapping a sharp salute. "Sergeant Sokolov of the Kurhanir first division. I apologise for this unfortunate meeting but I have been given strict instructions to acquire men and materiel from Fort Nordgrenze."

"On whose authority?" Max snapped. Yuri, who had finished reading the paper he'd been given silently handed it to Maximilian, who quickly scanned its contents.

"'Major Sir Isidor Drake has been unable to secure the Aurumgaard pass by diplomatic means and has laid siege, with the intention of seizing the terrain and securing it for Kurhain,'" he repeated aloud, having difficulty believing the words coming out of his own mouth. "'By leave of His Grace, Grand Duke Lothar Kurnst, all materiel, men and support from Fort Nordgrenze is to be transferred to Major Drake's command effective immediately.'"

"Get a move on," Sergeant Sokolov shouted to the assembling soldiers, "we are leaving in ten minutes, even if I have to tie you to the back of the wagons and drag you."

"This is an outrage," Max bristled, crushing the paper in his gloved hand.

"You did notice the Duke's seal at the bottom of the document, didn't you sir?" Sokolov pointed out.

"I did, and that's the only thing keeping you out of the stockade right now."

"Then respectfully Major, if you have a problem, take it up with him. If I may be excused sir, I have a lot of work to do here." He snapped his hand to his forehead in salute, holding it there while he waited for Max to acknowledge. Not ordinarily a petty man, he couldn't help but wait a few moments longer than usual to respond with a casual salute, freeing the sergeant to go about his duties.

"These supplies were meant for the southern offensive, Yuri," Max confided. "The mere fact they are being redirected means the Duke has given up on the coming offensive altogether."

"You are still the commander of this fort," Yuri pointed out. "Can you not refuse to relinquish your soldiers, unless relieved of command?"

"To anyone but the Grand Duke, yes," Max answered grimly. "This message didn't come here directly from Aurumgaard – it passed through Ostermacht first, probably because Isidor knew I would protest if it came from anywhere else. I have been reduced to little more than a supply sergeant."

Yuri wisely refrained from comment as the fort's soldiers, a force nearly a thousand strong, were assembled into columns and marched out the gate.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," Maximilian remarked grimly, helpless to alter the course of events. "What is Isidor thinking Yuri? He's literally declared war on a mountain."

"The secret orders Isidor was given from King Osric must have instructed him to assault the place if he couldn't secure peaceful access," Yuri responded. "I presume some sort of surprise attack was attempted, which must have failed. They've taken a thousand men, five cannons and enough black powder to level this fort."

"In three thousand years, Aurumgaard has never fallen to an enemy, Yuri," Max, an avid student of history reminded him.

"Aurumgaard has never faced such weaponry, Major," the lieutenant pointed out. They watched as the last of the wagons rumbled past the gate, and Max looked to the sky, where light clouds drifted overhead.

"Summer is well and truly over," he remarked. "I wonder if they can break through before the first snows clog the mountain passes."

"To my knowledge, Aurumgaard doesn't maintain a sizable standing army, so it's entirely possible."

"Their home is under attack, Lieutenant. Every man and woman able to swing a sword or shoot a crossbow will rise to its defence. If the attack should fail, it would be a disaster for us in more ways that one. I have to convince the Duke of this or we risk everything."

"Shall I arrange for your coach to be brought around, sir?" Yuri offered, already thinking one step ahead.

"Do it, I can be in the capital just after sunset."

"I suppose you'd prefer me to remain here and oversee the fort," Yuri suggested. Max's instinct was indeed to leave him behind on sensitive missions like this, for he still nursed lingering doubts about where the lieutenant's loyalties lay. Yet, they had served together for weeks and Max hadn't discovered a single shred of evidence to hold against him. Yuri had been unfailingly loyal and hard-working, two attributes Maximilian prized in those under his command.

"Oversee what?" he finally asked, glancing around at the deserted courtyard. "The token force remaining has no chance of holding off an assault from Lyden, let alone conducting standard patrols. Isidor has seen to that. Prepare the coach and our travelling apparel, we're going to the capitol to make one last appeal to sanity."

"And if that should fail?" Yuri prompted.

"We shall see," Max growled, appalled by the thought of disobeying orders or rebelling against his commanders, even if it was for all the right reasons. Not long afterward, they were jostling along the highway towards the capital. They spoke briefly of minor logistical matters before Maximilian leaned back to watch the passing countryside. A hardened campaigner, he used to be able to stay awake for days at a time during long battles but the rocking motion and warm air conspired with his recent lack of rest to lull him to sleep.

His dreams were disjointed and disturbing, filled with fleeting images of comrades and friends lost in war. For a time, he spoke to them, relieved they were still alive and thinking their deaths had simply been a long nightmare, but it wasn't long before the nagging doubt at the back of his mind revealed the truth of their existence.

They were but shadows in his mind, remnants of good people taken too soon. Knowing this, the spectres from his past vanished instantly leaving a hollow feeling of abandonment that accompanied Max as he woke.

The sound of the coach's wheels rumbling over cobblestone streets confused him for a moment as, blurry eyed, he peered out of the window. Tall buildings lining a busy street indicated they had arrived in Ostermacht, just as the sun was setting.

"You let me sleep all day?" Max complained to Yuri.

"I didn't want to say anything, but you appeared exhausted," the lieutenant answered as the coach rolled towards the Ducal Palace. "I figured you could do with some rest. Perhaps you should freshen up before confronting His Grace? You haven't eaten since breakfast."

"That can wait," Max growled, his mind slowly coming into focus on the task before him. "I don't expect this will take very long. Either they listen to me, or have me forcibly removed."

"I'll keep the coach ready in case we need to make a dramatic getaway," Yuri remarked dryly. "Before you go, I took the liberty of fetching this," he added, producing a small, familiar box, inside of which lay the weapon bearing the name of Maximilian's late daughter.

"Weapons aren't typically permitted within the palace without express consent," Max responded dourly, gazing at the sidearm with regret.

"You seem to be in the sort of mood where rules may not apply," Yuri remarked pointedly as the coach came to a halt outside the palace steps.

"We're not that far gone just yet," Max replied, gently pushing the box away, "but the night is young. Wait for me, I expect to return within the hour." He left the confines of the coach's comfortable interior and ascended the stairs with long, purposeful strides, returning the salutes of the Ducal Guard at the entrance before encountering the first layer of bureaucratic protection around the palace at the lavishly appointed foyer.

Although he was no stranger to this place, the minor functionaries staffing the reception desk refused to let him pass, citing the excuse that the Grand Duke's schedule simply wouldn't permit someone randomly barging in off the street. Even when Max reminded them who he was and why he was there, they remained unyielding in their resolve. At the doors to the inner halls of the palace, the hands of those on guard drifted ever closer to their weapons.

Momentarily bewildered by the hostile reception, it dawned on him that his recent treatment at the hands of Osric and the Grand Duke may have something to do with this. He had been supplanted by Isidor, his privileges revoked and if he took one wrong step, Max knew he would be in serious trouble.

Feeling rebellious enough to protest but not foolish enough to try and press his luck, the major settled into one of the nearby couches and made himself comfortable, as if ready to wait all night if necessary. Those at the desk appeared less than pleased at his continued presence, so it didn't take long before they sent one of their number to bring this to the attention of someone with greater authority.

"Major Strauss, this is an unexpected pleasure," the palace castellan greeted as he brusquely swept into the room. "His Grace is tied up in meetings for the remainder of the evening and through the next three days, but if your issue is pressing I can arrange for you to meet with him for a few minutes tomorrow after noon."

"When I accepted my promotion to Major I gained access to His Grace and the general staff," Max grated, rising to his feet in a cold fury. "Pointlessly delaying me on matters of importance could imperil your career, should your conduct be brought to the attention of the Grand Duke."

"I'm not sure what you are referring to Major," the castellan answered, unperturbed by the veiled threat. "I am simply going about my business, ensuring that the Grand Duke's time isn't wasted with minor affairs."

"Minor affairs?" Max repeated incredulously.

"Yes, if you had something important to say you would have gone through the chain of command to your senior officers, namely the general staff. If you are truly content to sit here in the waiting room it can hardly be a life or death matter now, can it?"

"Would you have preferred I charge straight in?" Max asked cynically.

"It would have lent more weight to your claim, though you would certainly have been shot had you tried," the castellan remarked. "Come now Major, there's nothing to be gained by being obstinate. Return here tomorrow at noon and I'll make sure you have a few minutes to speak with His Grace."

Max paused to consider this, noting the attention he had gathered from the nearby staff. Some were whispering to each other, as if sharing scandalous insights about the uncouth stranger making a scene in their midst. He'd never felt like more of an outsider and he didn't care for it one bit.

"Keep your appointment, Castellan," Max spoke in a low voice. "I bid you and your staff good evening." With that, he turned and headed for the exit at a measured pace, realising the situation had grown out of his control. Ahead of him, the guards watched his every movement, as if expecting him to attack or cause a scene. Lashing out would accomplish nothing, so Max stifled his fury and kept moving until he was through the entrance.

He stood at the top of the stairs looking over the dimly lit palace gardens as he waited for his coach to arrive, contemplating these new developments and what he might do about them. The sun had fully set and only nearby lanterns provided light on an otherwise crisp and calm evening. The feeling of abandonment he'd felt in his nightmare was still with him, magnified by his fall from grace. The faces of those he'd lost over the years were still vivid in his mind, silently demanding he fight this injustice, somehow.

Max was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn't notice the approach of an armed guard until the last moment. His hand instinctively went to his weapon, only to find an empty sheath on his belt.

"Major Strauss, please come with me," the guard spoke, his voice muffled by the heavy helmet he wore. His hand was touching the hilt of the sword on his hip, a subtle warning that he was prepared to draw it should the need arise. A second guard had silently moved into place behind Max, preventing him from backing away.

"Gentlemen, you appear to have me at a disadvantage," he remarked, keeping his hands where they could be seen. He maintained his steely resolve even though his lips were dry and his heart pounded in his chest.

"If you would follow me sir, we can resolve this without resorting to unpleasantness," the guard before him suggested, gesturing to one side with his free hand. Max had no choice but to comply, though he walked slowly to buy himself some time, for what, he was unsure.

They led him away from the open space of the stairs and through the gardens to a darker part of the palace, lit only by a single lantern hanging from the wall. Ahead, three people waited in the shadows near a side entrance, more palace guards with one of them holding a huge tiger on a leash.

Unarmed and wishing he'd listened to Yuri's advice to bring Gunhilde with him, Max was certain he was about to be fed to the beast and was about to lunge for the nearest guard's weapon, when the largest of those ahead of him opened the entrance and bowed, then gestured for him to step inside. Cautiously, Max peered through the door and noticed a small figure shrouded in a dark, heavy cloak a few metres away.

He was surprised beyond measure when the figure pulled back her hood to reveal the Grand Duchess Frieda Kurnst, who raised a finger to her lips to suggest silence. She crooked a finger at him, beckoning him forward. Once inside, the door closed behind Max leaving the two of them alone in what appeared to be a storage room laden with bags of flour and other bulky ingredients teetering on high shelves. The clattering of busy cooks and the distinctive aroma of sumptuous food filled the air as servants prepared the palace's evening meal.

"As far as my husband knows, I'm out giving Gunther some exercise," Frieda confided. "Don't get too close to him, Gunther is usually quite docile but he might think you're his evening meal."

"I'll try to remember that on the way out, Your Grace," Max answered ruefully with a slight inclination of his head. "You should know that I gave serious consideration to running a blade through your guards and making a run for it. If you wanted to speak to me, you only had to ask."

"Forgive the theatrics but I gave clear instructions to bring you here no matter what," she explained unapologetically. "Above all else, I can't have anyone knowing that I'm here meeting with you right now."

"This is an unusual look for you, a little more clandestine than we're used to seeing from the wife of our leader."

"There's that smart mouth of yours that's landed you in trouble," Frieda remarked. "I don't have a lot of time before my absence is noticed upstairs so I'll be brief. Your arrival was expected and frankly, dreaded by my husband. You've become something of an inconvenience to his plans and I only wish I had interceded before you stumbled into the palace today. I could have saved you a public humiliation."

"I'm having some trouble understanding why," Max confessed, relieved to have someone to discuss this sensitive issue with. "I have been loyal and dedicated to the cause from day one, yet the Grand Duke's insistence on bowing to every whim of that despicable Osric has clouded his judgement and endangered the lives of our soldiers, and even the country itself."

"I agree, yet my protests are falling on deaf ears," Frieda confided. "My husband isn't the most intelligent man in the world by any measure, but I do care for him and I know he loves Kurhain as much as any of us. He seems to have grown more paranoid about our lack of allies in the region and has seized upon this opportunity to remedy that. I feel differently, but cannot intervene without appearing to undermine Lothar's position and weakening his rule. There are others who would enjoy the chance to depose him and install new leadership."

"You want me to act in your stead," Max stated, suddenly understanding the nature of this meeting.

"In a situation like this, I would only trust family to carry out such a sensitive task," Frieda clarified. "You are both a cousin and a soldier of some renown, and in fact you were the first name to come to mind when I made my decision to act alone. You are the first I have spoken with and in time, I will seek out others to aid you, but for now, you are the only one I know for certain I can count on."

"What about Lord General Graham?" Max suggested. "He's the only one of the general staff I trust and has been a family friend for many years."

"He may be too close to my husband to include in our little conspiracy," Frieda pointed out. "By my reckoning, all of the general staff are suspect, which is why you, recently promoted from the front lines far from these halls of power, were a perfect candidate."

"What exactly do you require of me?"

"Your loyalty, your suspicious mind and your patience," Frieda explained softly. "I want to know I can count on you when the time is right." Max nodded in understanding, idly moving around the storage room while considering her proposal.

"I'm a soldier, not a spy," he finally said. "I detest all that cloak and dagger nonsense so bear that in mind when you call for my help. All of my instincts are telling me to walk away from this immediately but I can no longer see any other way to change the course we are set upon. My only question to you is, when are we going to deal with the real problem and kick Osric out?"

"We can't simply boot him out of the country," Frieda admonished him. "He is in favour with the nobility and most of the general staff, who are grateful for the weapons Osric provided. No, to eliminate his influence, we must first destroy his reputation."

"And how do you plan to accomplish that? His Grace is actively covering up Osric's less palatable qualities, especially with women. The man is using sorcery for crying out loud, and yet still walks free."

"His fall from grace must be public, Major," Frieda explained patiently. "Should he be provoked into displaying his less palatable qualities out in the open, it will be impossible to conceal, forcing my husband to disavow him and end the alliance."

"So if I were to hurl insults at him until he lifts a finger and incinerates me on the spot, would that be sufficient?" Max asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"That would be lovely, thank you," Frieda answered in the same tone. "I remember your performance at the recent dinner so don't underestimate your ability to annoy him," she continued on a more serious note. "Since you've been all but relieved of command your duties are light, so learn what you can about him, his patterns, his hours, anything you can find."

"And remember, you are no longer alone – there are others out there who share your distress and will back you when the time comes to remove Osric for good. You may have fallen from favour with some of the nobility, but your reputation is still solid within the Valkre."

"As I said, this isn't my area of expertise, but I'll do what I can," Max answered, rubbing his unshaven jaw as he considered the implications.

"My time is up. Good fortune to you Major Strauss, and no matter what you decide to do, tread lightly." Frieda finished, before raising her hood and disappearing into the darkness of the storage room until the door to the kitchens opened as she departed. When Max left through the servant's entrance, the guards outside had vanished, tiger and all.

He strolled cautiously through the gardens until he arrived back at the palace steps, to find his coach and a concerned looking Yuri awaiting him.

"I was starting to worry," the lieutenant said as Maximilian approached and stepped inside.

"For a little while there I was feeling the same way," Max confided once he was seated. "Driver, take us to the barracks," he called just before he closed the door.

"Would you care to illuminate me on your evening's activities?" Yuri prompted as the coach clattered off down the street. Max reached over and took the box with his sidearm within, opened it, and sheathed the weapon onto his belt.

"Don't ever let me go anywhere without this," he instructed Yuri.

"I did try to warn you, sir."

"And I was a fool not to listen. We have stepped into a tangled web, Yuri," Max explained grimly. "I thought to act alone and could well have paid the ultimate price for my short-sightedness, but instead I may have found a powerful ally. Make yourself at home here, Lieutenant, you'll be staying for a while."

"Have I done something wrong sir?"

"Far from it. If anything, you've proven yourself more loyal and capable than men I've known all of my adult life, though I admit I had my doubts for a long time. You have a new assignment. You're going to investigate everything you can find about Osric - where he lives, whose company he keeps, everything you can find."

"Why me? Perhaps someone else would be better suited to clandestine activities."

"I would do it myself, but I am too well known amongst the circles Osric moves in. By standing against him at every opportunity, I have made myself too obvious for the subtle work that needs to be done. You, on the other hand, have expressed public admiration of the man on more than one occasion, yet have managed to maintain a low profile. Nobody would suspect you, least of all Osric, if my measure of his intellect is accurate. Above all, I trust you to follow orders and do what's right for the country, beyond any personal concerns you might have."

"Is this to be an official assignment?" Yuri asked.

"Of course not. I'm going to give you all the papers you need to provide a working cover story. We'll come up with something appropriately dull to avoid attracting attention."

"Just to be clear sir," Yuri prompted as he cleared his throat, "are you suggesting I should become some sort of spy?"

"You, a spy Yuri?" Maximilian scoffed as the coach rumbled into the night. "The thought has never crossed my mind."

18

### Breach

Reaching into a crack in the stone wall as far as her arm could stretch, Aislin felt the rough, chalky surface of a large chunk of coal on the tips of her fingers. With considerable effort, she managed to coax the lump into her hand and pull it free, adding it into her sack laden with more of the precious black rocks.

After this little triumph, she slumped against the wall to catch her breath. Day and night no longer had any meaning to her in this dark place, but Aislin had slept roughly twenty times since the gates of Aurumgaard had sealed them in, twenty days of walking the forgotten halls of the underground fortress, searching for anything valuable she could get her hands on.

Only a small area of the chamber around her was lit by her magic bracelet, but it was all lined with filth-encrusted stone, quite possibly the remains of a mining outpost at the northern end of the city. Aislin was exhausted, having journeyed for hours to find this place and knowing full well she still had to travel back again with her dark treasure.

She wiped her moist eyes on the back of her jacket sleeve, mindful not to rub any dirt into them as she forced herself back on her feet. The others were counting on her to keep the fires burning and she couldn't let them down. Hefting the sack over her shoulder, Aislin tried to ignore her aching muscles as she started the long trek back to the forge.

Through dark halls and empty caverns she trudged, hearing little but the echo of her own feet and the occasional skittering of vorax feet. They were quite rare down here, probably because there had been nothing to eat for countless years. Still, she kept a sharp eye out for any that thought of her as a meal and if any came too close, the flash of Sliver's blade was enough to send them scurrying away.

Eventually, Aislin found her way to the great stairwell, which descended through the core of the city as far down as she could see. Resigned to the long climb, she slowly made her way up twenty floors of steps, resting as needed along the way out of sheer necessity, for her legs simply couldn't keep up with all this walking.

A wave of relief came over her when she finally heard the distant, repeating 'clank' of the smithy's hammers, the sound of civilisation at last. The warm light of lanterns lit up the corridors ahead and before long, Aislin staggered into the forge and dumped her cargo on the floor, then slumped against the wall, out of breath and utterly spent.

Three dozen dwarves worked in the area now, each of them operating in shifts to ease the burden. Although Aislin was sore and tired, she was at least young and fit, which is more than she could say for most of these poor old blokes. A few were hammering out new breastplates for the guards, but most of them were building large, free-standing metal frames with wooden planks taken from the now dismantled inn secured in place over them.

Gordon noticed Aislin's arrival and took a break from hammering at the forge to see how she was doing. He was shirtless and covered in dirt and sweat, but seemed to be the only one of his people not fatigued by the workload, probably due to him being half the age of any one of them. He grabbed the sack of coal and peered inside, suitably impressed by her latest haul.

"I don't know how yer managing to keep findin' this stuff," he remarked with a chuckle, "but yer a godsend, Ace."

"You just have to look in all the nooks and crannies," Aislin answered, offering her expert advice. "I'm too tired to go back for more just now, I hope it's enough."

"I've some good news fer ya," Gordon announced. "We're finishing up the armour right now and I'm hammering out molten iron according to Jaz's specifications. This load will see us through the next few hours and that'll be enough to finish up with."

"So I don't have to go back down?" Aislin asked, unable to keep her enthusiasm hidden.

"I'm sorry, yer days o' being an explorer are at an end," Gordon assured her. "Why don't ya clean yerself up, have a meal and get some rest? I'm sure we'll 'ave more fer ya to do tomorrow."

"What are those things?" she inquired, looking at the big metal frames.

"If the gate is breached, we slide one of them into the gap and hammer it into place," Gordon explained.

"It's going to happen, isn't it," Aislin stated with a measure of dread.

"Don't worry, we've had more time to prepare than I could've hoped. We'll be ready fer 'em. Now get some rest, young lady," Gordon instructed with a wink before hauling the sack of coal over to the tiny pile stacked near the forge. With a deep sigh of relief, Aislin sat against the wall for the better part of an hour, listening to the roar of the bellows and the rhythmic hammering of the blacksmiths plying their craft.

During this time, she spotted Keg trotting down the hall not far away, carrying a dead vorax in his jaws. The glint of eyes from three other cats revealed he wasn't alone, but instead of another fight breaking out, Keg dropped the vorax at their feet, then sat and watched the hungry strays devour it before heading back towards the silo.

Seeing Keg caring for the other cats brought a wan smile to Aislin's face and made her think of home. Her smile faded as she remembered her situation and the very real possibility she would never see the Bracksford Arms Inn, or her father, again. Spurred to action, she picked herself up and found a bucket of water to clean her hands and face, then went over to see Jaz who was working feverishly next to the bench.

"Hi Ace, I'm busy just now," she murmured without turning her head. Standing next to the bench were a pair of metal boots with leg plates on top of them, appearing much like half of an armoured person. Jaz had all of her magical possessions laid out on the bench, and seemed to be removing tiny gems from each of them. Right next to the pile was the message paper, the focus of Aislin's visit.

"Can I use one of those?" she asked, to which Jaz nodded in reply.

"They don't have gems I can extract so they're not much use to me just now," she advised. "Just don't use them all, I need to study one when I get the chance." Aislin took one sheet, a quill and a vial of ink, and sat cross-legged on the floor next to the bench.

Dear Dad, she began, we have made it to or-um-gard and are enjoying the sights. It is amazing here, the place really is made of gold!

That was actually a lie but it wasn't her place to spread the word that Aurumgaard was a shadow of its former self. The distant rumble of an impact on the gate shook the walls and loosened a cloud of dust, which drifted over Aislin. Everyone in the forge area stopped work for a moment, looking to the ceiling as they listened for further trouble before pressing on with greater determination.

It's so nice here that we're going to stay a while, Aislin continued, unable to bring herself to tell her father exactly what was happening. Everybody is very nice and Gordon is right at home here. I'm learning all sorts of things and will have many stories to tell when I come home. Don't worry we'reallfineLoveAisli-

"Bugger," Aislin whispered as she ran out of space. She closed her eyes and pictured her father's kindly face, but just before she folded the paper she thought of something important.

"We're sealed up in this mountain, is the message going to be able to find a way out?" she asked Jaz.

"If there's a tiny gap some place, the magic will find a way," came the distracted reply. "It'll probably squeeze through an arrow slot or something."

"Right," Aislin responded, folding the paper in half and watching as it folded itself into the shape of a dart before whisking out of her palm. It twice flew in a circle before settling on a course, zipping along the chamber towards the forge. Alarmed, Aislin watched as it changed course at the last moment, turning away from the flames and soaring into the vast chimney above.

"Huh, I wouldn't have thought of that," Jaz murmured before focusing once more on her calculations.

With that out of the way, Aislin headed upstairs and found something to eat at one of the stalls set up to feed the besieged population. Fresh bread and a hot stew was on the menu, served by a lovely old dwarven lady with bright green eyes.

Aislin found an out-of-the-way spot to eat her fill, all the while listening to the sound of bullets bouncing off the gate outside, along with the occasional roar of the cannons as they struck the gate. Aislin flinched each time but was too hungry to let it upset her meal, and everyone else had become accustomed to the constant noise anyway.

It wasn't until she'd finished her meal that she noticed Madelyn slumped against the wall. Her lustrous dark hair was unkempt and dark smudges marred her fair skin. Aislin waved to catch her attention but Madelyn didn't seem to notice, her blue eyes simply staring out at nothing in particular.

"She's hardly slept since this began," one of the dwarven guards close to Aislin confided. He nursed a broken arm in a sling but still held a short sword in his other gnarled hand. "Even during the quiet bits – and there ain't many of those let me tell ya – Lady Angelica will sit at the gate, peering through the arrow slot like she'd suffocate without it. She'll even sleep leaning against it, crossbow or sidearm at the ready."

"She doesn't like being couped up in dark spaces," Aislin explained, looking with concern at Madelyn's distant expression.

"I've heard some tallfolk are afflicted with this, though it makes no sense to me," the guard remarked with a shrug. "Ain't nothin' safer in a siege than livin' in a mountain. Any castle, no matter how well built, would've been breached by now. Aye, me ancestors knew how to make a gate, that's fer sure. Don't worry lass, we can hold 'em off a while longer. Speakin' o' such, it's my shift."

Aislin gave him a relieved smile as he tousled her unkempt hair and headed off to relieve one of the other guards, though how useful he was going to be with that broken arm was questionable. The guard coming off duty has been wearing one of the few breastplates Gordon and Ewan had finished, and he took it off right after he came down the narrow stairs before helping his replacement suit up.

Just as he was securing the straps an explosion erupted behind them, sending up a cloud of dust filled with sharp bits of stone. Aislin squealed and ducked for cover, even though she was too far from the gate to be directly affected. Half a dozen guards and several bystanders were struck by the blast, knocking them down and revealing a shaft of brilliant daylight coming in through a hole in the gate, big enough for a man to walk through.

Where everyone else had rushed for cover upon hearing the explosion, Madelyn had reacted in completely the opposite manner. Only moments after the gate was breached, she had a sidearm in each hand as she dashed across the intervening space.

"Reinforce the gate!" she cried as the Kurhanir soldiers roared a battlecry and charged for the breach. The gap was narrow enough to prevent all but one man coming through at a time, made all the more challenging by sharp, twisted metal and jagged points of stone impeding their entrance. When the shadow of the first soldier blocked the hole, Madelyn fired one of her sidearms from close range, wounding him but failing to stop his entry.

A second shot from her other weapon was enough to drop the soldier, who was immediately pushed out of the way so those behind could rush through. Two dwarven guards armed with crossbows recovered from the blast and loosed their bolts at the next man through the breach, who managed to fire his own sidearm at anything within range.

One of the guards was struck and fell to the floor, even as the soldier who fired it stumbled with two bolts sticking gruesomely from his armour. He never had a chance to recover, for Madelyn was upon him in a heartbeat with her rapier in hand. With a series of sharp jabs she finished off the wounded soldier, only to find two more bearing down on her.

Aislin watched wide-eyed from behind a barrel as Madelyn held the breach on her own, moving too quickly for their swords to hit and parrying their clumsy blades with ease. On the back swing she slashed each man across the cheek in a way that almost seemed to be calculated to enrage them.

In spite of her valiant efforts, the two soldiers were bigger than her and with each attack they pushed her back a little further, enough so more soldiers could push through. Fortunately, the dwarven guards had made good use of the time to regroup and with Conner in the lead, they charged in to support Madelyn, forcing the Kurhanir to engage at close quarters where their firearms were useless.

They kept up the fight for the better part of a minute, using their shields to shove the soldiers back against the gate and their bodies to keep anyone else from coming through. The fighting was so tightly-packed that dwarven archers didn't dare risk shooting into the fierce melee. Captain MacRae directed the defenders from behind the lines and practically screamed for the breach-blockers to be brought in as fast as possible.

If they were bringing the big metal frames up from the stairs, Aislin was yet to see or hear any sign of their approach, and the weary old dwarven defenders were slowing down with every swing. Madelyn could only do so much to make up the difference, pivoting and twirling about in a dance of death even as she was being forced away from the breach.

The entire dynamic of the frenzied defence changed when two of the dwarven guards went down within seconds of each other, with blood pouring from their sides. They were in danger of losing control of the gate as half a dozen more soldiers poured through the breach, firing their sidearms as they entered.

And then Carthack entered the fray.

The huge escardi was almost unrecognisable, clad as he was from head to toe in the ancient suit of iron armour the dwarven smiths had modified to fit his immense frame. Towering over the battlefield, Carthack stormed down the street with a massive sledge held in one hand, and a wooden shield the size of a small table held in the other.

Only two of the Kurhanir soldiers had the presence of mind to fire at him, but they both missed by a wide margin. With his shield held before him, Carthack slammed into the soldiers and knocked each of them from their feet, following through with a blow from his sledge that sent another of their enemies back through the breach.

Completely outclassed by their towering adversary, the Kurhanir struggled to hold the inside of the gate. Their blades bounced off his thick armour and for every hit, he countered with a smack from his sledge, or simply bashed them with his massive shield. In spite of evening the odds, Carthack and Madelyn were sorely outnumbered and could only hold the gate for as long as they could swing their weapons.

Fortunately, help was on the way. Gordon and two other dwarves wheeled one of the new breach blockers towards the gate as fast as they could manage, with carpenters and smiths standing by with their tools to seal it in place. They just needed Carthack to hold on a little longer.

With shouted orders from outside, the Kurhanir were redoubling their efforts. Discarding their swords, four of them unsheathed daggers and tried to overwhelm the big man with their sheer weight of numbers. Aislin watched with white-knuckled tension as each of them carefully timed their assault to grab an arm or simply pile on top of him, trying to bring Carthack to the ground.

Unable to bring his sledge to bear, Carthack let it go and for a moment, Aislin feared all was lost. Then, with a surge of immense strength, he lifted one of the soldiers with one arm, then slammed him against the gate and dropped his unmoving body to the ground. With the weight upon him reduced, Carthack didn't even bother using his free hand to lift the others off – he simply shoved them into the gate again and again until they fell free, where Madelyn dashed in to plunge her rapier through their unmoving bodies.

More soldiers were waiting on the other side of the breach, several of whom poked their firearms through and fired almost blindly into the city. Carthack took a hit before he could raise his shield, which he slammed into place over the breach and used the weight of his body to hold them back.

"Move!" Gordon roared as the breach-blocker rolled in behind him. Carthack heaved himself out of the way just as the heavy contraption crashed over the breach.

"Hold it, lads, don't let up!" Gordon shouted as Carthack lent his strength to the effort while the carpenters and smiths went to work locking it in place. The sounds of men on the other side attempting to shove it back gradually subsided as both sides pulled back from the temporarily sealed gate to catch their breath. Aislin emerged from behind the barrel, her nerves frayed from the narrowly avoided defeat as she moved to see if she could help the injured.

"Well done," Captain MacRae breathlessly offered her troops, who slumped to the floor in a mixture of relief and exhaustion. More than a few of them sported wounds, so Aislin and Jaz joined the women who hurried in with bandages, water and poultices to do their part.

"I don't have much of this left," Jaz counselled as she cracked open the jar of salve, now well below half-full. "Do any of you lovely ladies have a stock of medicinal herbs?"

"Aye lass, yer welcome to it if ye can make more o' that stuff," one of the women responded as Jaz dabbed the salve onto some of the more serious injuries.

"There's two men on horseback approachin' the gate, one o' them bearin' the flag of Kurhain and the other lookin' like he's got a pole up 'is backside," one of the guards above the gate reported.

"That'll be their commanding officer," Isla muttered. "Don't shoot 'im, let's listen to what he's got to say. Just keep yer bows at the ready though, in case it's a trap."

"It won't be," Madelyn said in a grim and distant voice while a gash on her arm was tended to. "The Kurhanir are nothing if not honourable." Isla thoughtfully considered this for a moment before climbing the stairs to one of the vacant arrow slots. Curious, Aislin silently followed her without her knowledge to listen in more clearly.

"I wish to parley with your commander," came an accented male voice from beyond the gate. From her position leaning against the wall, Aislin couldn't see him but he sounded educated and quite full of himself.

"Who's speakin?" Isla called out to him.

"I am Major Sir Isidor Drake, leading the first division of the Grand Duchy of Kurhain," came the reply.

"I'm Captain Isla MacRae, in charge o' kickin' you in the rear every chance I get," Isla called back, much to the amusement of the other dwarves.

"How colourful," Isidor drawled. "I wish to salute you and your men on a valiant defence. As a show of respect, I give you one day's respite from our assault to tend your injured. During this time, I want you to give serious consideration to surrendering your position. Should you choose to do so during this day of mercy I am graciously bestowing upon you, I give you my word as an officer and a gentleman, you will be allowed to leave unharmed."

"Well, that certainly is gracious of ya," Isla retorted. "I'll be sure to write ye into me last will and testament."

"Don't dismiss my offer so lightly," Isidor warned. "Your people are old and weak, infirm from the span of lives well lived, feeling the weight of age dragging you down a little more every day."

"Yer definitely not makin' any friends in 'ere, mate," Isla spat.

"You aren't doing them any favours yourself madam, forcing upon them the duty of far younger soldiers," Isidor pointed out.

"We 'ave a few o' those actually," Isla countered, "yer men met 'em face-to-face a few minutes ago. Why don't ye ask 'em how well that fight went?"

"Your allies are quite skilled, but they are too few in number to make any real difference," Isidor remarked, unfazed by Isla's attempts to needle him. "I have nearly a thousand men laying siege to your ancient, decrepit fortress with more on the way. I have a chain of constant and fresh supplies arriving by the day. You have no allies, no reinforcements and limited supplies. Consider well your position madam, for we aren't going anywhere."

Isla turned from the open slot and gazed down at the people below, each of them looking up to her for her response. They were old and tired, sporting many injuries already and this siege had longer to run. Still, not one of them voiced any dissent, and when Isla shouted back her answer, Aislin knew she spoke for every one of them.

"Ye can take yer generosity and stuff up yer duke's backside, ya poncy git. The only way through this gate is if ye take every single one 'o us with it, and I'll be damned if I let the history o' this ancient bastion snuff out while I'm on watch. Bring it on, I say."

With that, she shuttered the arrow slot and headed down to join the others, accompanied by a roar of support from the population of Aurumgaard. She slapped many of them on their backs on her way past and went about making sure everyone was being cared for.

"Lady Angelica, yer courage is an example to us all," she offered to Madelyn, who visibly flinched at the mention of her first name.

"Yes, well, we all have to do our part," she answered after glaring at the captain for a moment. Aislin was probably the only one who noticed this and was taken aback at the sudden ferocity in Madelyn's eyes, which subsided as Isla moved on, oblivious.

"Well, we're in it now, as if we weren't already," Gordon sighed as he checked the breach was properly sealed. "They're not gettin' back in this way," he added, slamming the ball of his fist against the bulwark.

"You should bring more of those here in case of another breach," Madelyn suggested. "We only barely held off that attack and if anything had gone wrong, they'd have taken the gate."

"Aye we're bringin' 'em up from the forge as soon as they're done," Gordon responded. "How about that armour, Carth? As strong as they come, eh?"

"Is very heavy," he rumbled in reply. "Good against sword, didn't stop bullet."

"Well, you can't have everything," the dwarven engineer answered with a shrug. "Don't worry about that hole, we'll patch it up right away."

"You know, it's occurred to me that if they had any magical expertise at all," Jaz mused aloud as she ground up some herbs with her pestle and mortar, "they could just teleport straight into the fortress itself."

"If they could, they would have done it by now," Carthack grunted as Jaz poked at his wounded arm.

"We already know Osric can perform such feats," Madelyn suggested. "If he'd shown up right then and there, this would have been all over. We've nothing here that could stand up to that blade of his."

"Well, maybe I can do something about that," Jaz remarked. "Show me your weapon." Madelyn obliged by holding out her rapier, which the young artificer examined with her omnigoggles in place.

"My word, it's well crafted," she murmured after a few moments.

"It was my fathers," Madelyn answered. "As with everything in his life, he spared no expense – except for his family of course."

"I could take a few of my gems and imbue it with a little magical power," Jaz suggested, "enough perhaps to stand against Osric's blade for a minute or two anyway." Madelyn stared at her for a long moment until the tension between them was unbearable.

"Are you telling me," Madelyn asked with deadly calm, "that for all this time, you've had the power to craft a weapon capable of dealing with Osric's magic and have simply neglected to tell anyone?"

"I -" Jaz stammered, taken aback by the sudden verbal assault as much as any of them.

"If he had shown up today, we would all be dead," Madelyn screamed into her face. "The blood of everyone you see here would be on your hands. Now get back to your little cave this instant and don't show your face again until you've made this into a proper weapon, you ungrateful, thoughtless cretin."

Stunned by the outburst, Jaz fumbled to grab her satchel with shaking hands before hurrying away. She wasn't fast enough to avoid the boot Madelyn planted on her backside, sending Jaz sprawling onto the floor where she burst into tears. Aislin rushed to her side and helped her pick up her things, but the poor girl was beyond consolation as she fled the scene of her embarrassment.

"Don't you dare say a word," Madelyn ordered those around her with a dangerously calm voice, before stalking off into the shadows, leaving Aislin bewildered and visibly shaken.

19

### Broken

Sealed behind the gates of Aurumgaard, the dark days and nights blurred into weeks as the defenders held out longer than anyone thought they would. The gate, with its beams and supports made of pure vythir, held against a near constant barrage of cannon fire. The noise was enough to disturb their sleep, which came at odd hours and never lasted long enough to leave them fully rested.

Through it all, Aislin never complained and always had a smile for the guards, regardless of how she felt inside. There was enough for them to deal with already without worrying about her, and she wasn't about to add to their already enormous burdens.

Instead, she sought ways to make their lives a little more bearable, bringing food and supplies to the weary defenders and helping the women make bandages to heal their wounds. Her visits were always welcomed and they even started calling her the 'Angel of Aurumgaard', bringing light to their dark existence.

Their food supplies were slowly but surely dwindling, with luxuries the first to go. Commerce had ceased to exist within Aurumgaard, with everyone simply taking what they needed from the shops and warehouses. Thanks to Keg's tireless war in the silos, the supply of grain was practically secure and they had a vast store of fresh water from an underground lake.

On the rare occasions when Keg stopped by to garner some attention from Aislin, the guards would cheer and give him a pat for good luck. Despite this, their supplies of fruit and vegetables had been depleted a week before and the only remaining meat was smoked and dried trail rations.

Still, with a large supply of wood taken from the demolished inn keeping the ovens burning, freshly baked bread and slices of cheese were plentiful. Curiously absent were the cakes and biscuits Aislin recalled seeing shortly after her arrival and while it was entirely possible they'd all been eaten weeks ago, she went on an expedition upstairs to find out.

Wherever she went, Aislin was always welcomed by the older residents with a smile and a pinch of her cheek, and it wasn't long before she discovered a rich vein of golden sweetcakes. The owner was an elderly dwarf with a sweet tooth, but she was more than happy to part with half a dozen every morning when Aislin stopped by for a chat. While it was tempting to scoff them all herself, she gained far more from handing them out as a treat to the grateful guards.

"Where'd ye find these?" Conner asked incredulously as he took a bite. "I thought we ran out o' cake weeks ago."

"I know people," Aislin casually answered with a wink. Conner gave her a careful hug, made difficult by the breastplate he wore and kissed her on the forehead in gratitude. She offered one to Carthack who, instead of accepting, knelt before her with his head tilted back and mouth open wide. With careful aim, she tossed it right inside which seemed to amuse the locals to no end.

"Is good," Carthack rumbled as he chewed, bringing a broad smile to Aislin's face until she glanced at Madelyn and saw nothing but seething jealousy twisting her fair features.

As time wore on, long periods of boredom were broken by moments of terror when a lucky strike against the gate's weak points allowed the enemy to mount an assault. When this happened the guards, led by Carthack and Sergeant Conner, leaped forward to hold back the tide of Kurhanir soldiers long enough for Gordon and the other engineers to seal the breach. When the battle was finally won, the artisans did their best to secure the barrier, but Gordon was growing more worried each time.

"What's wrong?" Aislin asked one day after another narrowly averted disaster.

"You mean aside from all the soldiers out there tryin' to kill us?" Gordon responded dourly.

"They can't fit enough men through the gap to beat Carthack," Aislin remarked, having observed this from a safe distance each time. "One man comes through, then Carth gives him a whack with that big sledge and sends them packing."

"Aye he does at that," Gordon agreed, glancing over to Carthack who sat on a large wooden chair made just for him. Two women tended the minor wounds he'd received in the latest brawl while three smiths removed some of the damaged plates from his ancient suit of armour and hammered out the dents. Carthack himself stared straight ahead without expression, the exhaustion evident on his face from so much fighting.

"Are you okay?" Aislin asked out of concern. Carthack glanced around, taking in the bleak scene of men and women struggling to survive in the darkness of the old fortress.

"Reminds me of home," he rumbled in a sorrowful voice.

"This?" Gordon baulked in astonishment. "This is what yer home was like?"

"We lived in old fort on world with faint sun," Carthack explained for the benefit of anyone around him. "Much colder than this, but otherwise same. We only people on world, two hundred of us, only survivors. Outside, always monsters, always fighting, and always losses. For many years we look for escape, but magic door broken. Ancestors arrived through it, but could not use it to leave again."

"Then how did you escape?" Aislin asked, intently listening to the first time Carthack had ever spoken about his earlier life.

"More people come through door, smart people with magic," he answered, pointing to Sliver sheathed on Aislin's belt. "Your hero and his friends come, open door for short time and we rush through."

"Aiden Wainwright saved you?" Aislin asked in wonder, drawing a nod from Carthack.

"That is why I fight, that is why I follow, to pay back debt. We all perish on that cold place if not for them."

"So you left one fort in an endless siege only to die in another," Madelyn bitterly remarked.

"We not dead yet," Carthack responded. "While we live, there is hope."

"Oh please," Madelyn begged, rolling her eyes. "Spare us your unbearable optimism." Carthack ignored her, giving Aislin a wink that did wonders to restore her confidence but Gordon continued to look at the gate with concern.

"What are you worried about?" Aislin pressed, knowing something was eating away at the dwarven engineer.

"Okay look, this gate is a work o' art," he responded with a measure of admiration. "I've had way too much time on me hands to study it over the last few weeks and I'm not sure anyone here appreciates how clever the design is."

"Well, it's vythir, like my dagger," Aislin pointed out, lowering her voice to a whisper to make sure anyone nearby didn't hear her.

"Aye and it's a tough metal, no doubt," Gordon affirmed, "but it's more than that. Even the best metal is gonna give way after a while, and this gate was ne'er designed to withstand modern weapons like a cannon. Look at the way all these beams are arranged," he suggested, pointing to the thick, gleaming metal beams.

"I don't understand," Aislin confessed.

"When it's hit, the gate disperses the impact all the way along its structure," Gordon explained, spreading his hands out as he tried to describe the details. "That's the reason it's still standin'. What's got me worried is every time there's a breach, the metal is broken and the gate can't disperse the impact as well as it used to. We've got four separate breach points now, so each new impact is going to increase the chance of another breach, which reduces the strength of the gate even further until it collapses."

"How long is that going to be?" Aislin asked in a quiet voice, suddenly very nervous.

"I don't know exactly, but it's not gonna last much longer," Gordon admitted. "Don't worry, we'll surrender if that happens and from what Madelyn says, this mob will treat us fairly when we do. Of course, then they'll be able to go north with their army and do what we're tryin' to stop 'em doin', and all o' this would be for nothin'."

Their conversation was interrupted by the 'crack' of firearms being set off just above the gate. Conner and the other guards were using them to shoot at the army outside, forcing them to keep their distance from the gate as the defenders tried to pick off the soldiers.

"Sounds like the batch o' black powder I put together's workin'," Gordon remarked in satisfaction when the racket died down. "We'll last longer if we keep their siege engines from firin', but we've run out of crossbow bolts and the range on these little sidearms just ain't good enough. I've only got two longarms fer the lads to use, but we need a cannon o' our own to really make 'em think twice."

"Do you have enough iron to build one?" Aislin asked.

"Not really, but I might be able to forge a smaller, portable version," Gordon answered. "But to do that, I have to go and find more coal down below."

"I can do that," Aislin offered, even though she didn't want to delve back down into the oppressive darkness of the lower halls. Gordon must have seen this on her face, for he didn't hesitate to nix that idea.

"Nay, ye've done more than enough o' that, Ace. Yer more use to us up here, keepin' up their spirits," he suggested, gesturing at the city's ancient defenders. "I've poked around downstairs a bit meself when I was lookin' for ingredients, so I'm headin' back down now and should return in a couple o' days with some coal, I hope. Stay safe," he finished, affectionately messing up her tangle of hair with one hand before stomping down the street. She sadly watched him go, knowing she would miss his calm and steady presence but resolved to not let him down.

Despite his vote of confidence, Aislin knew she would have her work cut out for her keeping the defenders spirits up, for Madelyn seemed to be doing everything she could to make their lives miserable. When she wasn't on duty above the gate shooting at Kurhanir soldiers, she was an absolute terror to deal with.

Madelyn was demanding and rude, refused to do any mundane work such as dispensing food or tending the wounds of others, and ignored the orders of Captain MacRae. Isla had tried talking sense into her but Madelyn unleashed a tirade of vile language the likes of which Aislin had never heard before.

But even this paled by comparison to when someone made the mistake of calling her 'Lady Angelica'. The 'conversation' ended with Carthack physically holding her back after she slapped the bewildered dwarven woman across the cheek and threatened to do far worse if anyone called her that again.

"Go and cool down," he insisted after she finally calmed down. "Right now, you part of the problem."

"The 'problem' is we are all going to die beneath this wretched mountain," Madelyn hissed back at him as she tried to recover her dignity before storming away.

"If I were a less charitable person," Isla muttered, "I'd give serious consideration to tossing her out o' the gate."

"Don't be a fool," Conner barked, "they wouldn't have 'er either." The other guards laughed derisively at this joke, and Aislin didn't blame them. Madelyn was fast wearing out her welcome and the first snows of winter couldn't come soon enough, for more reasons than one. Carthack was the only one who didn't find this amusing, though if there was anything between him and Madelyn, it was rapidly vanishing under the strain of the siege.

Oblivious to all of this, Jaz spent most of her time in the forge where her bench was set up with all manner of tools. Aislin visited her from time to time but Jaz barely seemed to notice as she was so wrapped up in her work. Conrad's new body had been gradually assembled over the past few weeks, and he now stood impassively beside her, his head attached to the top of what appeared to be a bulky suit of armour.

He towered over the girls, standing almost as high as Carthack with limbs made of solid metal. The body had been styled to suit the curves of the head and Aislin thought the smiths had done a brilliant job, but in spite of her best efforts, Jaz had yet to make him move. She now spent every waking moment scrawling down arcane runes on paper and etching them onto his armoured body in futile attempts to infuse him with magic.

"Any luck?" Aislin asked on this visit, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Trying to do this from memory isn't the approved method," came the muttered reply as Jaz glanced at Aislin through her goggles. "I thought it would have been easier than this – the golem's spirit is already infused into the metal of the head piece, so I don't need to go through a complex summoning ritual. But I can't seem to make Conrad realise he has a body now. I've missed something... I don't know what, I'm trying combinations of runes now so something has to click sooner or later."

Aislin noted how strung-out her friend was but she could do nothing to help, having not even gone to school for very long, let alone studied the obscure magic of artifice. She noticed the message paper sitting on the bench within reach, noting with dismay there were only two sheets left.

"You've been using these things a lot," she remarked, taking a sheet with the intention of writing another letter to her father.

"I miss my family too," Jaz sighed as she pulled out the smooth, featureless stone from around her neck, a present from her parents before she'd left home. "When I can't think straight or solve a problem, I sometimes just sit here and gaze at this stone and think of them. I've never spoken of our situation here of course, but I wonder if they'll ever hear about what happened at Aurumgaard, and what happened to us, should things not work out as we would like."

"Don't say that, we can still win," Aislin admonished her.

"You're right, I'm sorry," Jaz apologised, briefly lowering her head into her arms. The sound of quick footsteps approaching caught Aislin's attention and to her alarm, she saw Madelyn stalking towards them from the stairwell.

"Where is it?" she shouted, snapping Jaz out of her tired reverie.

"What? Oh, your sword," she stammered nervously as she noticed Madelyn's rapier still sitting on the bench, untouched all this time.

"Yes, my bloody sword, it's been how long now?"

"I'm sorry," Jaz squeaked, shrinking back from Madelyn's unfocused anger. "I've been distracted, I mean, it's not quite as easy to improve your weapon as I thought -"

"Either do it or don't," Madelyn hissed, "but you could have bloody well said something days ago. Can you do it or not?"

"I think I can, I'll get on it right now."

"You'd better," Madelyn snapped, leaving the unspoken threat hanging in the air. "What are you looking at?" she asked of Aislin, who felt genuine fear of her, even with an entire army outside their gates.

Her instinct was to try and keep a low profile and skulk away, just to avoid becoming the centre of Madelyn's attention, but Aislin wasn't about to leave Jaz to fend for herself.

"You should be lucky we have her here," Aislin pointed out. "Soon Conrad is going to come to life and smash all of those soldiers to bits."

"Oh really, is this before or after we die of old age?" Madelyn asked sarcastically. "Get out, this instant."

"Make me," Aislin retorted, defiantly crossing her arms. Unfortunately, her opponent was still older and stronger than her. Madelyn took her by the arm and towed her towards the stairs, shoving her away and giving her backside a kick just for good measure. Aislin sprawled flat and gashed her hands on the stone floor, gasping at the sudden flash of pain.

Humiliated and too tired to fight back, she hurried back upstairs, fighting back tears welling in her eyes. The sound of an explosion from above made her stop halfway up though, a sound she'd heard many times before – the gate had been breached. Moments later Madelyn rushed past, taking the stairs two at a time with her rapier held at the ready.

Aislin followed at a discreet distance and watched the battle with white-knuckled tension. Part of her wanted to be on the front line, fighting back the soldiers and protecting her friends but she was simply too small to be of use. This fight went on longer than previous ones as the Kurhanir adapted their tactics in an effort to seize the gate they couldn't seem to destroy.

Firearms detonated and people cried out in pain as the fight took a turn for the worse, with tired, angry men and dwarves fighting each other for survival, but this time, something was different. When Carthack began to turn the tide against the attackers, they pulled back much faster than before and within moments, it became clear why.

"Get back!" Conner shouted as a barrel rolled through the gap with a line of string fizzing and spitting fire at one end. Conner tossed aside his weapons and shoved others away as he rushed forward to kick the barrel back outside, a moment too late to avert a disaster.

The barrel exploded with a thunderous roar, knocking back anyone nearby and shrouding the gate in a billowing cloud of thick black smoke. Rock from above the gate tumbled to the ground as cries of alarm erupted from the chaos. It was impossible to see what was happening through the choking cloud but the cries of pain were unbearable.

Gradually, the smoke thinned out revealing the results of the devastating attack. The breach had thankfully been blocked by a small avalanche of stone loosened from the force of the blast, but even from her safe distance, Aislin could see broken arms and legs gruesomely emerging from the rubble.

Hesitantly and fearing the worst, she moved closer, watching as Carthack heaved away some of the larger chunks of stone to reveal the broken bodies of those who had been caught either in the explosion or in the resulting avalanche. None of them were moving, and even from this far back she recognised Conner's distinctive beard amongst the ruins.

Coughing from the smoke, Aislin dashed forward and stared at his broken form, joined by the wails of some nearby dwarves who had witnessed the lives of friends and family known for a lifetime, snuffed out in an instant.

Carthack, his armour charred and with blood oozing down his nose noticed Aislin frozen in place and gently guided her away from the grisly scene, while the others moved in, pushing aside rock to free the bodies of their fallen loved ones.

"Too dangerous, stay back," Carthack ordered while the remaining dwarves started the grim task of cleaning up.

"They're not getting through that rock any time soon," Ewan croaked after a quick examination of the blast site, "but we've lost more than a few o' our best fighters. The next time they come through we might not be able to hold 'em back."

Aislin felt a stab of pain in her chest at the realisation she had lost more friends, for Conner and the others had become close during the long days of their desperate struggle. With tears flowing freely she turned and stumbled away from the front lines, looking for a quiet place to cry away from the others.

She ran for a few minutes through the city's dark halls until she found a secluded nook where all the emotions she'd been holding back for weeks came pouring out in a torrent of tears and sobs. Aislin was so tired, more than she'd ever been in her life and the bleakness and futility of their situation could no longer be ignored by simply putting on a brave face and smiling for the others.

Something furry brushed up against her leg and with a start, Aislin turned to see Keg nuzzling against her. Grateful beyond measure at his sudden appearance, she crouched and wrapped the big cat in a crushing hug, bawling into his fur until the storm of grief finally subsided.

"I'm sorry Keg, you're all wet now," she sniffed, though he didn't seem to mind, purring loudly as he soaked up the attention along with the tears. "I miss home so much," Aislin continued, confessing her innermost thoughts to the one friend who would never judge her. "I shouldn't have come. This siege is too much for me, and I shouldn't have prodded these nice people into a war they have nothing to do with. What I wouldn't give to see dad again, especially since I turned thirteen some time in the last couple of weeks. It's hard to tell one day from the next down here."

Keg offered no insights on her pain and inner turmoil of course, but his presence was calming nevertheless.

"You're getting heavy," she noticed with a wan smile, noticing how much of him there was to hug these days. "You must be giving those voraxes a hard time of it." Keg mewed and lashed his tail, a sure sign of agreement. Aislin then activated her magical light, reached into her belt pouch and took out the message paper and quill.

Dear dad, I want you to know how much I'm thinking about you, she wrote, sniffling as she went. All is well here, we just celebrated my birthday and I wish I was there with you right now...

For the first time writing these little notes, she had plenty of space left over. There was so much she wanted to say but she simply couldn't add anything that would give away her true feelings and upset him. With these thoughts another tear dropped from her cheek, splashing on the paper and smearing the ink. Startled, she immediately tried to wipe this away with her thumb, only making matters worse.

"Bugger," she muttered, "if he sees this he might figure out I was crying."

"Maybe you should grow up then," Madelyn's voice echoed from further along the hall.

"What do you want?" Aislin shot back, in no mood to deal with her.

"I was trying to have a rest when I heard you," Madelyn explained as she approached. "If you're going to have a cry, you could at least do it quietly. Some of us important people need our sleep if we're going to keep protecting useless baggage like you."

"How can you be so mean when we've lost people today?" Aislin sobbed.

"Because you're the one who got us into this," Madelyn snapped. "You and your stupid, childish attitude. 'Lets go and stop Osric', you said, and why on earth we listened to a little girl is simply beyond me. I must have taken leave of my senses or been dumbstruck to think we could fight that bloody army sitting outside the gate. What were you even thinking?"

Rendered speechless at the verbal assault, Aislin stared silently as she tried to come up with something to say. Instead it was Keg who reacted, hissing and spitting at Madelyn.

"I know you can understand me so back off, fur ball, or I'll make you into pair of slippers," she warned. Keg, of course, did not back down and for a moment, it appeared as if the two would come to blows. Madelyn was probably a match for the big tomcat but Aislin wasn't about to sit there and watch another senseless fight.

"Enough, just stop it!" she screamed, finding her voice in pure anger. "You're such a terrible person, even to people trying to be nice to you. Conner and Isla put up with your hateful talk for weeks and hardly said a bad word about you. Even Carthack started to like you but now you've probably ruined that too. I don't know what your parents did to make you this way, but if you can't be helpful you should just keep your horrible mouth shut!"

"My parents were utterly awful," Madelyn shot back. "If I had to choose between fighting this army by myself or spending one minute with my mother I'd be through that gate in an instant! You should count yourself lucky that you never had to grow up with my parents. You and your father, you're like two peas in a pod, all sweetness and light and you have no idea how the rest of us have to live."

"If you hate them so much, why are you trying so hard to be like them?" Aislin shouted, finally breaking down into tears once more. She cried into her arms, her body wracked with sobs as the trials of the day continued and it was some time before she realised Madelyn hadn't said anything all the while. Daring to look up, she saw a look of abject horror on her face and her hand covering her gaping mouth.

"What?" Aislin croaked, her throat hoarse from crying.

"I hadn't realised," Madelyn whispered in a haunted voice. "I've been so wrapped up in my own problems I never stopped to consider I was treating others the same way my mother treated me. I'm... I'm so sorry."

Aislin couldn't say anything, for the sudden shift in Madelyn's mood was startling to say the least. Keg settled down, though he watched her cautiously as she slumped on the floor only a couple of yards away.

"Why did they treat you so poorly?" Aislin finally asked, sniffling a little as the tension evaporated.

"I don't really know," Madelyn confessed, her voice quiet and introspective. "When I was very young, I remember being quite wild at heart, always testing the boundaries of what I could get away with and as a result, Mother was always very cross with me. She came from a religious background and was very strict, too strict really, and she would always punish me severely if I stepped out of line. I would often have bruises on my arms for days afterward, but I hid them so nobody could see."

"Father was different, not directly abusive as such but simply... absent. As a minor lord he was always off on some important task or another, far more concerned about his standing in social circles than raising his family."

"One day when I was eight, I was practising cartwheels in the living room which is something I promised Mother I would never do. I thought she was busy at the time and wouldn't notice, but I ended up smashing a valuable vase. She walked in on me picking up the pieces and I tried to explain that a bird flew in the window and knocked it over, because I was terrified of what she might do if she knew I did it, but I was wrong. She guessed I was lying and went insane."

Madelyn paused for a moment as something dark within her came to the surface, a painful memory she had long buried. Aislin listened, both curious and horrified as the truth came out.

"She'd had enough of my wild temperament and blasphemous lies and locked me in the basement. It was pitch black down there and I screamed and cried for her to let me out, but she wasn't going to until I'd learned my lesson. Our house was really more of a small estate, with lots of woodlands surrounding it and with my father away, there was nobody else around to hear me."

"She kept me there for a month," Madelyn went on, trying to sound casual even though her voice choked up halfway through the sentence. "Every morning and night she would pass water and food through a slot in the door and each time I would beg forgiveness if only she would let me go. Each time she would make me promise never to lie again, and I promised with all of my heart. 'I don't believe you, we will try this again tomorrow', she'd say, and shutter the door again." Aislin was speechless, unable to understand such cruelty to one's own family.

"Eventually she set me free, but I was never quite the same again. I was irrevocably changed by the darkness of the basement that still haunts my dreams. I was Mother's perfect little girl after that. Angelica went into that room and I left her there. Every time I hear that name I feel like I'm turning into that scared little girl and here we are, locked in another dark basement with people calling me Angelica all over again but this time, there's no way out."

"But if they break through, you said they'll just capture us," Aislin reminded her.

"You, maybe, but me? I've been killing their men for weeks, Ace. They're coming for my blood."

"This is the most honest conversation we've ever had," Aislin remarked, taken aback by all she had heard.

"I've never told anyone that, ever," Madelyn responded emphatically. "It doesn't excuse how I've treated you though, I just couldn't stand watching everyone being so nice to you while I felt like an outsider. You didn't deserve it and I'm so sorry." And then, to Aislin's astonishment, Madelyn broke down and cried.

Unable to hold any ill-feelings for her any longer, Aislin shuffled over and embraced her. Madelyn was hesitant at first but then returned the hug with fierce affection.

"Don't give up yet," Aislin whispered, "I'm sure it won't be long before it snows. We just have to hang on a little bit longer."

"That gate isn't going to last," Madelyn whispered back, finally letting Aislin go. "But at least I've made things right with you before the end. If only we had some more allies. I mean, there's so much black powder outside the gate now - where's an army-destroying fire-breathing monster when you really need one?"

Aislin smiled and wiped the moisture from her eyes right before she had a moment of inspiration. She gaped and held her head in her hands, almost smacking herself from stupidity.

"What is it?" Madelyn asked in surprise.

"I can't believe I didn't think of it until now," Aislin muttered as she picked up the smeared message paper. Quickly, she scribbled out what she'd already written and beneath it wrote something far more important. She then folded it and pictured the 'person' she wanted to send it to and watched as it folded itself into a dart before setting off down the hall, hoping against hope it wasn't too late.

20

### Magic

Smoke billowed above the town of Aussict, a roiling cloud which blotted out the fair skies enjoyed by anyone living more than twenty kilometres away. Max detested visiting the place but with the conflict in the north going on far longer than planned, he had little recourse. In nearby chambers the sound of smithy's hammers and boiling forges could be heard, making the place sound busier than ever.

Anika was, as he expected, hard at work within the depths of the workshop where the nation's armaments were built. A petite woman, she was almost invisible amidst the bustle where more than a dozen men and women worked hard upon something hidden behind a vast grey tarpaulin.

"Alright, lift it slowly," Anika called from her position on top of a ladder, which leaned against the side of whatever they were building. Three engineers pulled on rattling chains attached to a winch near the high ceiling, raising a cannon the size of a man high above the floor where two other men awaited it. What really caught Max's attention was an elderly man in brown robes, his features obscured by his hood. He was no engineer and his entire manner seemed out of place with those around him, as if he didn't belong.

"You shouldn't be in here," one of the men close to Maximilian warned when they finally had a moment to notice his arrival. He was roughly the same age but appeared heavily muscled from years of hard work and stood more than thirty centimetres taller than Max.

"I believe you meant 'you shouldn't be in here sir,'" he responded pointedly, in no mood for more of these bureaucratic games.

"I don't care if you're a general," the engineer warned, looming over him. "This area is off limits to anyone not carrying written permission from His Grace. Now, turn around and walk out before I throw you out of here."

Max returned his threatening gaze with one of calm confidence. Years of fighting had honed his abilities to a fine edge that months of working behind a desk had failed to diminish. Fortunately, Anika noticed the confrontation and intervened before the engineer's day took a turn for the worse.

"Kurt, take my place while I talk to my ex-husband," she called down, changing the big man's demeanour in an instant. Max pushed past the chagrined engineer without another thought and met Anika as she descended to the factory floor.

"It's nice to see you again, though it always seems to be for something official," she greeted him warily, though Max was hardly paying attention to her words. Already thin, she had lost even more weight and her skin was marred with dark smudges of grease and oil. Her eyes were tired and grey, and her blond hair lank and lifeless. A brief fit of coughing shook her frail figure and Max couldn't help but be both appalled and saddened by the sight of what this place was doing to her.

"I would say 'you're looking well' but that would probably be a lie. I thought all this was supposed to be shut down by now," Maximilian growled.

"Well, your old friend Isidor went and started his own war you see," Anika complained. "It's placed greater demands on our supplies, and my little project has drawn additional resources and caught the attention of the general staff. Lord General Clancy is the one responsible for the security around here, though he named you as an exception. Don't mind Kurt too much, he's overworked, just like the rest of us."

"I've already forgotten about it," Max grunted. "How much does the Lord General know?"

"Enough to erase all evidence of its existence from official records," Anika answered with a raised eyebrow. "He knows just enough to understand that he doesn't want to know any more, if that makes sense."

"That sounds like him," Max conceded, glancing at the robed man moving to a nearby workbench to examine some purple crystals. "Is that who I think it is?"

"One of my contacts put me on to him," Anika confirmed. "For his own safety, he hasn't revealed his name or where he's from. Officially, he's listed as a 'specialist', which isn't exactly a lie, though it barely touches upon his importance in the project."

"How much are you paying him?"

"When I told him what I had in mind, he offered to do it for free," Anika replied, seeming to enjoy Max's expression of mild astonishment. "I know how much you love to come here and chat with me," she continued sarcastically, "but I really do have a lot of work to do. I suppose you've come to see our progress?"

"We're out of time," Max responded with a confirming nod. "Is it ready?"

"I... you can't just -" Anika stammered.

"I don't know what this thing is, and thanks to your robed guest over there I'm not sure I want to, but you need to get it to Aurumgaard right away."

"Is it that bad?"

"Isidor was far too arrogant in assuming he could simply seize the place so easily," Max answered grimly. "He is squandering lives and materiel in Osric's name for going on two months now, and still hasn't anything to show for it. The dwarves have even started shooting back with firearms of their own. I assumed they might simply be using captured weapons from one of the many failed breach attempts, but they seem to be producing their own black powder and ammunition now."

"How is that possible?" Anika blurted.

"It shouldn't be," Max growled. "Osric said he invented the damned things but like everything else he's told us, it's probably a lie. Which means that someone in Aurumgaard knows a lot about firearms, which is the real reason I'm in the area."

"What are you going to do?"

"Never mind that," Max said, "the less you know, the safer you'll be. Regardless of how we came to be embroiled in a protracted siege, we must use everything we can to ensure victory. Too many lives have already been lost and our window for the southern campaign is rapidly drawing to a close. I need those men he took from my command to win that battle, so you and your brilliant idea are going to do Isidor's job for us."

"It hasn't been tested," Anika warned, casting a worried look at the robed man who had evidently heard much of the conversation. His eyes glittered from beneath his hood, yet he remained at a distance and said nothing.

"If you don't send it in now, it won't matter," Max insisted as he turned for the door. "Just do it."

"You can be a real bastard, Max," Anika called as he strode outside, closing the heavy door behind him without responding, feeling as though he had narrowly averted a prolonged argument. He returned to his coach without delay and prompted the driver to head on to the capitol with all speed, both to leave the toxic atmosphere far behind them and to reach his destination in time.

A bitter wind gusted across the landscape as they sped down the road, the first sign of winter about to descend over the landscape. Though it would be mild at first here in the flatlands, the mountains where Isidor waged his conflict would soon be choked with snow, cutting off their access to the north of Feydwiir until late spring.

Maximilian spent the remainder of his journey mulling over the possibilities, though he came no closer to a solution and when they finally arrived in Ostermacht, he was in a grim mood indeed. The sun had just set and lanterns lit the main street, still bustling with activity as people finished up their daily tasks by the light of nearby lanterns.

"Wait for me," Max instructed the driver as he took out a piece of folded paper from his pocket and studied its contents beneath one of the lanterns. A single sentence was written in neat, spidery handwriting – 'Meet me at sunset at the place where you first danced with your wife', with Yuri's signature at the bottom.

Looking up, Max spotted a sign hanging above the street not far from where he stood, a familiar place he hadn't visited in years – the 'Governor's Ale House', referred to by the locals as simply the Governor. It was another one of those trophy buildings which had survived the fall of the Ramidian Empire, apparently a place the regional governor had frequented during his reign.

Stepping inside, Maximilian was overcome with a wave of familiar sounds and aromas, not unlike walking into his own memories. Making his way to the bar, he silently lamented the fact that everyone he had grown up with from those days was gone, lost in the endless war Kurhain had started decades before.

"Welcome home, Major," Yuri greeted him as he emerged from the crowd, giving Max a start. "Forgive my abrupt appearance, I've been keeping a low profile of late."

"You seem to have taken to this cloak and dagger business," Max remarked with a wary glance around him. "Your message was suitably cryptic. I presume you have something private to discuss, though you've chosen a strange place to talk."

"Not talk, show," Yuri corrected. "Come, our destination isn't far." Secretly glad to be leaving, Max follow the lieutenant through the door and down the street.

"How did you learn of my first dance?" Max asked, more curious than angry.

"I needed to send you a message in a way that only you would understand, should it be intercepted and read," Yuri explained as they huddled beneath their longcoats against the cold wind. "I met with your ex-wife, who was gracious enough to share that little bit of information. My apologies if it was too personal."

"I had considered putting a firearm to your head and asking, but that would be rude," Max drawled, not entirely serious even though the thought had been quite real.

"That was another one of the benefits of meeting here," Yuri confessed. "Some people react poorly to such intrusions of their privacy."

"Your survival instincts serve you well," Max remarked as they turned a corner into a quieter, darker street. "Where are we going?"

"Our mutual friend maintains an apartment at the end of this street."

"Osric? I'm certain he stays at the Ducal Palace."

"That's what I thought at first too," Yuri agreed, "but when I started investigating his movements, I learned he only appears to live there. He maintains this apartment on his own account and has taken great pains to keep anyone from discovering it. As far as I can tell, nobody else at the palace knows of this address."

"The Grand Duke has some smart people working for him," Max pointed out. "How did you find this when they could not?"

"I'll explain that once we're inside," Yuri responded, coming to a stop near an alleyway. "There's a lot I need to explain but showing you is far easier. Let's wait here for him to leave. It's that building over there, on the top floor. He rented the whole place so I'm not expecting company."

Yuri had chosen a good location to watch the building, well out of the range of the nearest lantern. From here, Max peered at the building and watched cautiously, waiting for any sign of Osric's presence.

"You're expecting him to leave tonight?" he eventually asked after a few minutes had passed.

"He likes to eat out of an evening," Yuri answered quietly, "and he sometimes brings back a guest from a local bar. King Osric is a man of many appetites."

Max was about to speak when the windows of Osric's rooms went dark and, sure enough, the man himself emerged shortly thereafter through the front door.

"Move," Yuri whispered once Osric disappeared around a corner. They set off at a measured pace so as not to attract unwanted attention and it only took them a minute to reach the front door, which they soon discovered was locked. It didn't surprise Max in the least to see Yuri pull out a set of lock picks and set to work in a manner which suggested the lieutenant had done it before.

"I think you've been keeping secrets from me," Max remarked in a low voice as the lock clicked.

"I would have told you if you'd ever asked," Yuri replied as he slowly opened the door. Only darkness and silence greeted them, with a polished wooden staircase faintly glistening just inside the door. With a glance behind them to make sure they hadn't been followed, they moved inside and closed the door behind them.

They climbed three flights of stairs to reach the top floor where Yuri once again put his lock picking skills to the test, allowing them entry to the luxurious apartment Osric had taken such pains to keep quiet. Plush furniture lined an opulent living space, kept so neat and tidy that Max wondered if anyone truly lived here.

While he was surveying the room, Yuri immediately went through another door into the study. Like the living area, this room appeared to be unused, with its desk and other tables clear of any sort of clutter. Yuri wasn't interested in any of those, instead turning his attention to a large painting hung on the wall. In the poor light, Max could barely make out the picture itself before the lieutenant took it down and revealed a locked safe mounted in the wall.

"You've been here before," Max remarked as Yuri moved in closer to look.

"I wouldn't waste your time if I didn't know what was here."

"I'm no locksmith, but I know quality, and that safe is one of the most expensive you can buy," Max remarked. "Exactly how are you going to open it?"

"With the keys," Yuri answered, producing two small metal keys which he inserted into two separate locks and turned simultaneously. "Before you ask, these are copies. This safe was designed by a member of my kith and well, we look out for each other."

"You have interesting connections," Max growled, not altogether pleased with what he was learning about his second in command. Setting aside his concerns, the two men focused their attention on what Yuri retrieved from the safe and placed on the desk nearby. The only illumination was filtering in from the streetlights outside, far too little to make out the individual objects until Yuri whispered a few short words and a tongue of flame sparked into life on the tip of his extended index finger.

Before he knew it, Max had Gunhilde drawn and pressed against the side of Yuri's head, with the hammer pulled and ready to fire.

"Sorcery," Max snarled in a low voice, feeling betrayed by this sudden development.

"Major," Yuri answered carefully, "This is precisely why I never told you. I swear I am loyal to you and our country so please, put the weapon down and I will explain everything."

"Talk, and I'll consider it."

"Before, you asked how I knew of this place when the Duke's best spies did not. For all their talents, they lack knowledge of magic. I have the ability to see the aura of power from magical relics and as our target is steeped in sorcery, it wasn't difficult to follow the trail he left. What you have just learned is one of the most closely guarded secrets of the Khoda."

"That your kith harbours sorcerers?" Max scoffed.

"No, that our kith practices the ancient traditions of folk magic," Yuri responded, holding perfectly still. "It is as far from sorcery as a hut is from a castle. I have no power which will harm you, or sway your decisions in my favour with some sort of charm. If you truly want something to fear, take a closer look at what lies on the table before you."

Max hesitated, still feeling betrayed and fighting his instincts to distrust anyone wielding supernatural power, before finally lowering his weapon.

"Times are changing, and we must change with them," he grunted reluctantly. "Six months ago I would have pulled the trigger, but now I find myself allied with your kind more and more."

"I assume you are referring to a contact your wife made recently," Yuri responded, relaxing slightly as the tension eased. "An elderly robed man who is more than he seems."

"Let me guess, he's of your kith as well," Max suggested as he made the connection.

"Indeed, though I don't think this is the time or place to continue this discussion." Yuri moved his hand to light the objects he'd removed from the safe, revealing a bundle of papers, a few small blue gems and a metal box no larger than the palm of his hand. Cautiously, Max took the papers in hand and leafed through them, seeing sketches, precise diagrams and scrawled handwriting. Although he was unable to decipher the language, the subject matter was all too familiar to him.

"These appear to be firearm designs," he remarked. "I've seen Osric's handwriting and this isn't his."

"The language is dwarven, though I can't read it either," Yuri said. "What you are looking at is the original blueprints for all of our new weapons."

"Which Osric didn't create," Max finished with grim satisfaction. "I've long suspected this, and if this language is indeed dwarven, it goes some way toward explaining why the people of Aurumgaard are shooting back at us with them. What are these other objects?"

"The gems exude a peculiar and highly concentrated aura of power unlike any object I have seen before, with the exception of several items worn by Osric. I suspect they are necessary to make this magic work, a sort of fuel for his equipment. His weapon, gauntlets, boots and belt are all tainted with the same aura, no doubt the source of his remarkable abilities."

"Peculiar how?" Max pressed. "Keep in mind that all of this stuff is pretty peculiar to me."

"Traditional magic can be imbued into objects," Yuri hastily explained, "it's not an uncommon practice among more accomplished practitioners, but the aura for those appears as a gentle blue light wafting around the surface. These gems, this metal box and the other items Osric uses appear very different."

"In what way?"

"At first I thought it was simply a green cloud, but upon closer inspection, it almost looks like a swarm of... spiders." Max considered this only briefly, having no real knowledge of the subject matter.

"What of this?" he asked, picking up the metal box. Yuri held out his hand and when Max handed it over, pressed his thumb against one of the sides causing the top to flip open. A faint light emerged and a heartbeat later, the image of a glowing, translucent book appeared above the box.

With a simply gesture, Yuri was able to turn the pages of the ghostly book, revealing a bizarre language surrounding advanced-looking diagrams and pictures of things Max was unable to recognise.

"This is old magic, Major," Yuri whispered, "very old. I can't read what it says but the implications are clear. Osric has access to ancient relics of powerful sorcery far beyond anything I or any of my kith know of, the kind our people once fled in the old country."

"You think there is a connection between Osric and the fall of Zarahus?" Max wondered.

"Impossible, I've never been there," Osric's voice remarked from just behind Max. Reflexively, he raised Gunhilde and whirled around, levelling the weapon directly at him. Osric appeared unconcerned, yet his blade of pure energy glowed softly in his hand, ready to strike.

"You have a great deal of power at your disposal, sir," Max growled, his finger poised over the trigger. "But right now, you have possibly the finest weapon crafted by mortal hands pointed straight at your heart. Maybe your sorcery will stop the bullet and maybe it won't, but are you willing to chance it? My wife is very good at her job."

"If I am not mistaken she is, in fact your ex-wife, yes?" Osric responded, slowly stalking around the room, keeping his distance while they spoke.

"You have lied to us from the beginning," Max continued, ignoring his question. "These firearms were never designed by you. Even before seeing these blueprints I suspected the truth, because they're being used to slaughter our own men at the siege of Aurumgaard."

"Yes, so?" Osric asked with a shrug. "I bribed an assistant to the dwarven engineer I hired during our final assault on Fairloch, the capitol city of Aielund, at the end of the war. I don't recall his name, not that it matters now. He was quite happy to take my money in exchange for those documents, though he didn't live long enough to spend it."

"You are a thief, a liar and a wretch of a man," Yuri spat at this revelation. "To think I once held you in the highest esteem."

"I fail to understand why you are so shocked by this," Osric wondered as he casually moved to the table and placed the blue gems into a pocket, with Max keeping him in his sights the whole time. "I took a deadly weapon away from your potential enemies and handed it to you, and in turn, you will help me reclaim my home. We have all benefited from this arrangement, and so I can't help but be disappointed to find two officers of the glorious army of Kurhain in my own home pilfering my treasures. Why, I think I could slay you here and not one of your commanders would protest."

"You are deluded," Yuri snorted, stepping forward. "Do you really think your country will fall into line behind you as soon as you liberate it from your brother? I can finally see why he kicked you out. You are truly insane."

Osric's veneer of civility finally vanished as he moved to stand nose-to-nose with the lieutenant, his glowing sword barely a centimetre from his throat.

"I thought you were more intelligent than this, Lieutenant Vetrov," Osric threatened with a whispering voice. "I could turn you both to ash in an instant, but it would make quite a mess so I would ask that you keep a civil tongue. As for you, Major," he continued, turning to face Maximilian, "what do you hope to achieve with this information? Your superiors are more than happy with our current arrangements and wouldn't even care if I invented firearms or not. These blueprints are no longer of use to me - burn them or turn them over for all I care."

"I think they might care if you continue to squander the lives of our loyal soldiers on your doomed cause, without you so much as lifting a finger to help," Max retorted. "You claim to have great power, yet for weeks the men sent north to retake your homeland die on the steps of Aurumgaard, while you lounge around the palace, courting young ladies and drinking our finest wine. Our largess has limits, sir. If this assault fails, the goodwill His Grace has extended to you will evaporate very quickly indeed. If you are truly serious about your goal, show us how powerful you really are and end that siege before it's too late."

Osric remained silent as he considered the request. He idly picked up the small metal box and dropped it into his pocket, then turned to address Maximilian.

"You don't think I have it in me, do you?" he remarked with his voice growing louder by the moment. "You think I'm all smoke and mirrors, lie after lie, using what little power I have to make myself seem more than I am, a puffed-up, hollow shell of a King. So I will go to Aurumgaard and do what your vaunted soldiers could not. I will show you, and your Grand Duke what real power is." With that, he touched the gauntlet on his left wrist and vanished in a flash of violet light.

"Is it wrong of me to hope he is defeated?" Max asked of Yuri as he lowered his weapon at last. The lieutenant didn't answer right away, as he took something out of his pocket and rolled them around in his palm.

"I certainly hope these weren't important," he wondered aloud, looking down at the handful of blue gems in his hand, taken from Osric's pocket when the two men had been face-to-face.

21

### Clash

A brisk wind howled outside the battered and bent gate of Aurumgaard, bringing with it the chill air of an early mountain winter. Inside, Carthack, still clad in his increasingly dented armour, heaved on a rope while two dwarven smiths guided a net filled with debris high above the gate. Once in position, Carthack tied it to a metal spike protruding from the floor and watched as the swinging net slowly settled into place.

"They come through, we cut rope," he explained to a tired Aislin. "Maybe not block hole, but crush some of them at least. Good idea, Gordon."

"I would've done it weeks ago but we didn't 'ave as much rubble lyin' around back then," the dwarven engineer answered pointedly. He turned to look through one of the few remaining undamaged arrow slots to gauge conditions outside while the Kurhanir army reloaded their cannons.

"The weather's startin' to turn," he quietly announced, with only Aislin and a handful of others close enough to hear. "If me guess is right, we could 'ave the first snowfall o' the season by mornin'."

"Didn't know yer engineerin' expertise extended to predictin' the weather, Gord," Ewan croaked from his position further along the walkway. He held a sidearm in one hand, its blackened metal pipe evidence of the weapon's extensive use. His beard was unkempt and his bloodshot eyes revealed a state of exhaustion he couldn't hide. Few of the old dwarven guards were still able to fight, with fatigue and casualties diminishing their numbers over the past few weeks.

"Well I'm either right or I'm wrong, mate," Gordon chuckled. "I figure I've got a fifty-fifty shot here. Care to make a wager?"

"If yer wrong, I get to use yer whats-it-called? Hand cannon?" Ewan suggested, nodding at Gordon's newest weapon. After searching for supplies far below the city, he'd eventually emerged and set to work at the forge, spending days constructing a weapon he was barely able to carry let alone fire.

It was the same length as the longarm he'd brought with him from Bracksford, but the pipe was much thicker to accommodate a palm-sized bullet, and so loud when used that Gordon had made a special helmet with padding over the ears so he wasn't deafened every time he fired it.

"I'm gonna call it 'Thunderchief'," Gordon answered proudly, "and I reckon this beast would knock ya on yer bony arse, mate. Actually, that'd be pretty funny to watch. Yer on." They shared a brief laugh, though they were the only two who still showed a sense of humour. Just a few hours earlier, Aislin had overheard a hushed conversation between Captain MacRae and the King, discussing the possibility of surrendering to the enemy.

To his credit, King Angus was open to the suggestion if it would spare the lives of the people of Aurumgaard, but after so many weeks of resistance and so many lives lost by the attackers, being taken prisoner or simply being executed on the spot was a real possibility.

"We've made our choice, now we live or die by that decision," Angus declared, ending any chance of a peaceful settlement. Aislin wanted to speak up and tell them help was on the way, but in truth she had no way of knowing if her enchanted message had reached its destination. Every day in the week since the dart had sped off on its mission, she'd peered through the arrow slots hoping to see some sign of aid, yet nothing arrived.

Aislin's recollection was interrupted as Jaz stumbled into view, carrying a slender rapier in her hands. She appeared more dishevelled than usual, with her wild hair left unkempt for weeks and dark smudges present on her skin and dress. Though it was hard to tell at a glance, Aislin knew she had been working tirelessly on both Conrad's metal body and Madelyn's rapier, putting in as much effort as any of the defenders but with little to show for it.

"Ah, there you are," Jaz announced as she spotted Madelyn slumped in the darkness, far from the others. The young noblewoman had retreated into a sullen silence since confiding in Aislin, keeping to herself and refusing to speak with anyone or even move unless there was a breach in the gate. Aislin suspected she was mortified by her recent behaviour and simply didn't know how to apologise.

"I've finally done it," Jaz gushed nervously when Madelyn turned to her. "Your weapon has been imbued with the magic from my enchanted ring, though I must confess it wasn't really designed for this application. When you speak the word of command, your weapon will be charged with power for a brief time, though how long exactly will be difficult to predict. It should be enough to give Osric what-for if he shows up, though."

Jaz stepped forward and whispered the magic word in her ear and then held the blade before her, clearly still intimidated by Madelyn's earlier abuse. She gazed at it with mild interest, standing up and taking the weapon to feel its weight. An awkward silence came over them as Madelyn fidgeted with the blade and avoided looking Jaz directly in the eyes.

"Thank you for this, I'm sure it will be up to the task," she said in a low voice. "Listen, about my earlier behaviour -" she continued, only to be interrupted by a shout from Gordon.

"We've got some kind of metal contraption comin' towards the gate," he cried.

"Oh that's just Conrad," Jaz called back as signs of alarm rippled through the defenders. "I was just about to announce that I've finally figured out how to make him move! Come to me, Conrad." Sure enough, Aislin heard the sound of metal footsteps thudding heavily on the stone floor somewhere in the darkness of the city's boulevard. Two glowing red dots could be seen peering from the gloom as some of the locals scattered for cover, staring down the street cautiously.

"Not him, the one outside the gate," Gordon responded, prompting a moment of confusion from Jaz until her eyes widened in understanding. She raced to the the ladder and quickly ascended to peer through the arrow slots to see what he was talking about.

"My word, it's enormous," she gasped. "Look at the size of those fists! They're going to use it to batter their way through the gate. Wait, are those cannons on its arms?" Her usual inquisitiveness was overriding her sense of self-preservation but fortunately, Gordon had a different reaction.

"Take it down, lads," he roared, pulling Jaz out of the way and bringing his weapon to bear. The pipe of his weapon was just small enough to fit through the gap and with careful aim, he pulled the trigger, setting off an eruption of deafening noise louder than any of the smaller sidearms put together. The relative quiet of the chamber was shattered as a cloud of smoke obscured Gordon completely. The other guards added their firepower to the attack, but it wasn't until the smoke had cleared a little that Gordon was able to see the results of their weapons.

"It's still comin'," he warned, beginning the arduous process of reloading Thunderchief. Moments later, the sound of a heavy impact shook the gate, followed by another, and another. An ominous groaning noise rumbled through the battered structure as Captain MacRae lined up the defenders alongside Carthack.

"This is it, lads," she growled above the hammering on the gate. "I was born here and I plan on dyin' here, but not right now and not like this. Aurumgaard's been 'round fer a long time and I don't plan on lettin' it fall on my watch. We fight and fight hard til none of 'em are left standing, ye here me?" A rousing cheer went up from the city's ancient defenders, who bashed their swords upon their shields and stood ready to fight.

"Everyone get away from the gate!" Gordon suddenly roared, grabbing Jaz by the arm and dashing for the ladder. There was a sudden and desperate scramble away from the area near the gate, as the sound of firing cannons shook the ground. The breach blockers and supports they'd put in place exploded inwards, sending debris and smoke billowing across the floor. An ominous creaking sound soon followed as the legendary gate of Aurumgaard, battered beyond repair, broke away from the wall supports and crashed to the floor with a thunderous 'boom'.

Gordon and Jaz had managed to clear the area just in time, though they were covered in dirt and debris which showered everyone within ten yards. Once the sound had subsided, it was replaced with another, a roar of triumph from the army outside. Certain the end was upon them, Aislin heard a familiar voice within her mind even over the din.

Cover your ears, Salinder advised, causing Aislin to spin around looking for the small golden dragon. Just outside, the huge siege golem stood amidst the ruins of the gate, stomping forward with smoke wafting from the cannons mounted on its oversized arms. As the dust settled, her eyes were drawn to the terrifying sight of hundreds of soldiers charging across the hundred yards of distance between, on the verge of victory.

But above them, unseen in the cloudy twilight sky was a streak of gold as Salinder dived from high above. Aislin's heart surged at his sudden arrival and she cheered wildly as he spread his wings and soared right above the Kurhanir cannons – and the barrels of black powder arranged close by. Guessing what was about to happen, she covered her ears and shouted for others to do the same.

A blast of flame engulfed the barrels as Salinder sped past, causing a detonation of such ferocity it sent a ball of fire a hundred feet into the air, utterly destroying the siege engines and knocking most of the charging army from their feet.

While they were recovering from the sudden explosion, Salinder wheeled around in the sky and let loose another stream of fire, sewing chaos among their ranks as smaller detonations went off. Major Drake, the tall, arrogant officer in charge of the battle who had demanded their surrender weeks ago, shouted orders to the disciplined troops to bring them back into line.

The bulk of the force levelled their weapons and returned fire at the small dragon, who tumbled and spun through the sky to avoid the storm of bullets before pivoting about and crashing into their ranks, using his teeth and claws to battle them up close where their firearms were all but useless. A crackle of magical power erupted from Salinder's claws as he unleashed magical lightning on his enemies, right before he disappeared from Aislin's view.

Two dozen of the closest soldiers followed Major Drake as he continued to charge forward, his sword held high in the air as he roared something to inspire his men in their own language. They rallied behind the siege golem as they charged through the ruined gate, taking fire from the defenders positioned around the entrance. Under Captain MacRae's shouted orders, the people of Aurumgaard fought the last battle of the siege.

Carthack bellowed and charged forward, easily outdistancing his short-legged comrades as he led them into the fray. Bullets bounced off his thick shield and armour, and if he was struck in the assault he didn't show it. He crashed into the enemy ranks, swinging his enormous sledge back and forth with enough force to take out an enemy soldier in one swift stroke. They couldn't parry or block such an assault and were forced to dodge as best as they could while trying to poke holes in his defence with their slender broadswords.

Captain MacRae and the rest of her guards finally caught up to him and solidified his flanks, holding back the tide with their wooden shields while Carthack smashed through the ranks of the enemy.

"Keep those ears covered, lass," Gordon roared to Jaz and Aislin as he set Thunderchief on a pile of rubble and aimed at the siege golem twenty yards away, which was so large it had barely managed to fit beneath the top of the entrance. Its legs were like tree trunks, but squared-off and angular in design similar to a suit of armour. Its chest was immense and round, with each of its gigantic arms sticking out from either side. Its head was small by comparison, with tiny glowing red dots surveying the battlefield as it lumbered forward.

Aislin ducked for cover and timidly watched as Gordon fired his hand cannon straight at the towering metal monster, letting off a deafening explosion as the weapon sent a metal ball the size of her fist at the target standing not twenty yards away. An almighty 'clang' echoed around the chamber when it struck, leaving a noticeable dent in its heavy armour but hardly slowing it down.

"Conrad, destroy that golem," Jaz shouted to her own construct. From out of the shadows Conrad emerged, his iron-clad body only half the height of the hulking siege golem, yet striding forward fearlessly to engage his towering opponent. As he stormed across the distance between them, Kurhanir troops set up just outside the gate aimed their longarms and fired at him, and Jaz squealed with glee as her pride and joy walked onwards, impervious to their bullets.

Whatever magical mind the Kurhanir's construct had was enough to establish Conrad as a threat, for it turned in his direction and levelled one of its cannons at him. A spark of flame erupted on the back of the cannon and a heartbeat later a blast of tremendous power went off, rocking the siege golem back a step and impacting directly on Conrad's chest.

He was flung onto his back, crashing to the floor with a screech of metal. Conrad seemed to view this as a minor setback, immediately heaving his metal frame upright again only to take a second hit from the siege golem's other cannon, leaving a huge dent on his frame and sending him tumbling into the rubble strewn across the floor.

Jaz let out an inarticulate cry of protest, then reached into her satchel and pulled out some small glass vials. One by one she threw them at the siege golem, each detonating with considerable force on impact. Aside from obscuring its legs in black smoke, the monstrous construct seemed unaffected by the small explosions.

"Hit it with that wand you found back at the tower," Aislin urged over the noise.

"I don't have it any more," Jaz wailed, "I had to dismantle it and most of my other relics to finish Conrad."

Across the floor, the dwarven guards held the line against the Kurhanir invaders. Their armour was similar, with both sides wearing iron breastplates, but the enemy wielded long, slender swords while the dwarves preferred shorter, heavier blades and axes.

Their fighting styles couldn't have been more different, with the Kurhanir troops using mobility to avoid attacks while the old dwarven guards held their positions and only moved when they had to. It was an efficient fighting style born from years of experience and the necessities of old age, easily a match for their younger, fitter foes.

Their defence was made easier by Carthack's ongoing assault. Despite his spoken dislike of fighting, he was an incredible sight, towering above their enemies and using his tremendous strength to rampage through their ranks.

Major Drake was the tallest of the Kurhanir soldiers and Aislin could easily spot him on the field, shouting commands as he fought alongside his men. Although it wasn't at first clear who he was fighting, as the battle shifted around she spotted Madelyn engaged in a personal duel with the man. Their weapons sparked and clanged together as each sought to find a way through the other's defences.

Madelyn's face was a mask of controlled rage as she unleashed weeks of frustration and fear onto her opponent in a frenzy of swordplay. Despite her skill and fury, Drake was clearly an expert swordsman and seasoned warrior, who fought off her attacks calmly and precisely. He was gradually finding ways to land a cut here and there, forcing Madelyn backward as he began to simply overpower her.

Closer to Aislin's position, the siege golem had been practically left alone by the defenders who would have stood no chance against it. It had remained unmoving for nearly half a minute, with the sound of clanking gears audible from somewhere within its metal hide.

"Look at that, the bloody thing is reloading," Gordon remarked, pointing at the back of the siege golem's cannons. Some kind of clever contraption was rolling a new cannonball into place and pouring in black powder afterward.

"No magic is going to be able to perform such a task so precisely on its own," Jaz exclaimed. "There has to be someone nearby controlling each action."

"I haven't seen anyone who isn't fighting," Aislin responded.

"Whoever made it is a very accomplished artificer," Jaz explained. "They could be invisible for all we know."

"Let's just focus on the enemies we can see," Gordon grumbled. The damned thing is full of powder and cannonballs, we just need to set it off somehow."

"That's why it's so big," Jaz said in realisation. "It's loaded with extra ammunition to reload itself. Aim for the back of that cannon, you might be able to disable the mechanism."

"As soon as I have this beast loaded up," Gordon muttered as he worked furiously to pour powder down Thunderchief's gullet. Jaz watched the darkness of the boulevard with hopeful eyes and let out a little crow of triumph as the rubble shifted and one of Conrad's hands emerged.

"Come on, get up," she urged, willing Conrad's dented and smoking body back on his feet while her little fists clenched with white-knuckled tension.

"Ready," Gordon declared as he hefted the hand cannon into position at last. He took a moment to carefully aim at the golem's arm and just as he was about to pull the trigger, the girls covered their ears. A tremendous roar exploded from the end of its pipe when Gordon fired, striking the golem's arm directly on the back of the cannon.

Expecting a larger explosion, Aislin was disappointed when it didn't detonate, but the shot had put a noticeable dent into the cannon itself, surely enough to stop it from working properly. The golem itself rocked sideways a step but still seemed focused on Conrad, who was now lumbering towards it once again.

"Conrad, fire at its left arm!" Jaz called over the din. Her construct heard and complied, with his ruby eyes glowing fiercely until streams of magical fire shot towards the siege golem, hitting it directly on the cannon and the volatile black powder contained within. Aislin finally got her wish, with the resulting explosion engulfing the metal monster completely, disrupting the nearby battle as everyone was knocked back by the force of the blast.

When the smoke cleared a little, Aislin's wild grin vanished when she saw the siege golem was still standing, albeit blackened and twisted from the fire. Its left arm had been completely blown off and whatever powder was stored inside its cavernous chest had been burned away, yet it didn't back down as Conrad strode right up to it and slammed his metal fist into its leg.

The siege golem held its ground and responded with its remaining arm, smashing into Conrad's shoulder with stupendous force but failing to knock him down. Conrad punched again, denting some of its blackened iron plates and grabbing hold, ripping parts off and pummelling what lay beneath with mechanical persistence.

The two metal giants fought for over a minute, slamming away at each other with Conrad gaining the advantage with every hit. When one if the siege golem's legs came apart in his hands, it finally toppled to the ground with an almighty crash, but Conrad kept slamming his fists into it until the metal monster was reduced to a pile of parts.

"Yes!" Jaz cried in triumph while Aislin watched in wide-eyed amazement. When the siege golem finally stopped moving, her attention was caught by more soldiers approaching from outside the city. A large group of them was preoccupied fighting Salinder, but those who weren't engaged were moving to support the assault.

"Conrad, don't let anyone else into the city," Jaz ordered, having noticed the same thing. Conrad immediately stomped forward while Aislin looked to see how Salinder was faring against an entire army. The battlefield outside was lit by fires from the siege engines, still burning through the chill evening. Fearful for his safety, she was astonished to see not one but five small golden dragons moving through the enemy ranks.

Salinder cut down one soldier before him and a heartbeat later was shot by another right next to him, but instead of being struck, the dragon simply vanished and appeared somewhere else. Other soldiers were encountering the same situation around the battlefield, shooting wildly at the small dragons darting in and out of the fight with nothing to show for it.

Unsure what strange magic he was employing, Aislin's view was blocked as Conrad moved into position at the entrance and blasted the approaching soldiers with his fiery eyes. Many of them returned fire with their longarms but the bullets had little effect on his metal body aside from a few small dents, and they soon met their fate at the end of his iron fists.

With the enemy's numbers within the city dwindling by the moment, the defence appeared to be holding, but only just. Carthack's swings were slowing as fatigue gradually wore him down and his dwarven allies had taken a heavy toll during the fight, with half their number lying motionless or limping away. Carthack was shot at close range which seemed to slow him down for a moment until his sledge swung back and ended the soldier's life.

The big man staggered and leaned heavily on his weapon, clutching his side as blood seeped between his fingers. There were still a dozen soldiers within reach and he couldn't stop now or they'd lose the fight, and he knew it. Aislin was relieved when Carthack roared back to his feet and kept fighting, but he was clearly in pain and struggling.

"Jaz, give me a hand with this," Gordon requested as he hauled his hand cannon and a bucket of ammunition closer to the gate. "Stay in cover Ace, we're gonna give Conrad a hand."

She didn't answer, because that way she wouldn't have to lie. Once Jaz and the dwarven engineer were further away, Aislin drew Sliver from its sheath and quickly moved around the edges of the fighting towards the far side of the battle.

Madelyn was still on her feet, and to her credit had been able to keep Drake busy for the length of the battle, but he was obviously toying with her now, stalking around and countering every thrust and slash of her rapier with ease. He had cuts on his face and arm but seemed more than able to win the fight at any moment.

"You've the soul of a killer, madam," he taunted in his haughty tone, "and while I have the utmost respect for your skill, you've slain far too many of my men to go unpunished."

"If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it by now," Madelyn gasped between breaths. "I think you're just too incompetent to finish the job – or should that be 'impotent'?" Isidor's smile vanished and he seemed ready to dispense with the games and end the fight.

Aislin, hiding in the shadows nearby, felt her heart racing as she contemplated darting out of safety and stabbing the vile man when he wasn't looking. But then, she spotted movement along the remains of the gate supports above him and something fell from the darkness above. She gasped as Keg, screeching with fury, plummeted through the air and landed directly on the officer's head. Isidor cried out in alarm and pain as the cat's claws, sharpened from weeks of hunting voraxes, went to work.

Before he could call for help, Aislin gaped in astonishment as dozens of cats - possibly the entire population of Aurumgaard - poured from the gantry above the entrance onto the heads of all the Kurhanir soldiers, hissing, spitting and clawing furiously. Their iron helmets protected the top of their heads, but jaws and necks were vulnerable to sharp claws. Though little more than a distraction, the feline assault was more than enough for the defenders to take advantage.

With a roar of defiance Madelyn thrust her rapier through a gap in Isidor's breastplate, plunging her weapon into his chest. Keg leaped clear, revealing a look of pure astonishment on Isidor's face as he fell to the ground. Carthack smashed another solider hard enough to send him flying back out through the gate with his feline passenger still attached, and Captain MacRae and her guards went on the offensive, cutting down their distracted enemies with ease.

As soon as they hit the ground, the cats bolted into the safety of the city's darkened streets, having played their part in the fight to 'purrfection'. Aislin breathed a sigh of relief as hope welled within her once more. Though they hadn't yet won, the defence was holding and with it, the chance of victory was still very much alive.

Then, out on the grounds beyond the entrance was a flash of violet light. The familiar blond locks of Mad King Osric appeared, his sword of magical light blazing in the darkness as he turned to look at the city with a confident smile on his fair features.

22

### Osric

"Madelyn, look," Aislin hissed, pointing to where Osric stood not far from the city's entrance. There were still plenty of soldiers between them, who had scattered into an undisciplined rabble after the fall of their commanding officer.

"Finally, the cockroach scurries onto the field," Madelyn growled between heavy breaths when she laid eyes on him. Even from here, the two girls could see the smile of smug satisfaction on his face, which promptly vanished when he put a hand into one of his pockets. He frantically felt around for something within, but didn't appear to find it and stood there, hesitating as the chaos of the failing assault surrounded him.

Conrad, practically invulnerable to the bullets from the Kurhanir soldiers, was standing in the middle of a target-rich environment. His iron hands grabbed anyone too slow to get out of the way, tossing them through the air with tireless strength, keeping them off-guard so they couldn't regroup under a new commander. Had Osric not appeared, it might have succeeded in routing the attackers completely, but the Mad King raised his glowing sword and cried "Men of Kurhain, rally to me!"

At once, the scattered troops seemed to recognise Osric and those closest began to form up around him. A small explosion rocked the battlefield nearby, toppling several soldiers as Gordon hit the group with a blast from Thunderchief. Osric seemed to be the only one unaffected by the detonation, with those few troops that he'd gathered around him either momentarily deafened or in pain from being hit by debris.

Scowling at the weaklings around him, Osric swept through their ranks and into the city's entrance. Realising they had limited time, Madelyn moved closer to Aislin and leaned in to speak.

"You know what needs to happen here," she stated. "We can't let him get away again. Are you up to this?"

"Yes," Aislin firmly replied, her grip tightening on Sliver's hilt.

"Alright, I'll keep him busy as best I can, assuming my sword isn't immediately cut in two by that weapon of his. When you see a chance to strike, don't hesitate – we may not be afforded another opportunity."

"I'll be ready,' Aislin assured her. Madelyn gazed at her for a moment longer then nodded in satisfaction. Before she had a chance to turn and engage Osric in a duel, they were dismayed to see Carthack had either heroically or foolishly moved to stand in his way.

"You!" Osric shouted when he recognised the towering escardi standing before him.

"Me," Carthack rumbled in reply, dispensing with small talk as he charged in, shield-first. Osric tried to sidestep the attack but he underestimated the big man's agility, for he was able to change direction and slam his shield directly into Osric. His body flashed as a ghostly suit of armour appeared around him for a moment, absorbing the impact as Aislin had seen during their last encounter.

Expecting this, Carthack didn't let up, swinging his sledge about to pound Osric mercilessly again and again. Any mortal man would have been slain instantly but again, his powerful magic kept the mighty sledge at bay. More concerning was the obvious fatigue in Carthack's movements, for each attack was a little slower than the last and blood was still visible coming through the gaps in his formidable armour.

"He's going to get himself killed," Madelyn hissed, raising her sword to her mouth and whispering the command word to activate the magic Jaz had imbued within, before rushing forward to assist.

Osric continued to watch Carthack wear himself out trying to break through the magical armour a little while longer, then raised his glowing sword of power and sliced through the big man's shield and sledge in a single fiery cut. They both clattered to the ground in smoking pieces leaving Carthack unarmed and poorly protected, but it wasn't enough to stop him.

With his armoured gauntlets clenched tight, he lashed out with a serious of punches and finished off with a desperate grab for the hilt of Osric's weapon. Remembering that the only thing that had been able to penetrate his magical protection was the glowing sword, Aislin waited and watched in the hope that Carthack might get a hold of it and finish this without her having to intervene.

He might have even succeeded this time, but for the bullets that struck him from Kurhanir soldiers further out on the field. Carthack staggered and fell to one knee, still grasping Osric's hand with the glowing weapon only inches away.

"I don't have to keep you alive this time, my large friend," Osric said as he leered down at Carthack, enjoying the sight of the big escardi warrior on his knees. Aislin immediately hurried forward with the intention of helping but fortunately, Madelyn arrived in time to assist.

She shoulder-rushed him with the intention of knocking Osric down, but again his magic seemed to absorb most of the impact. Madelyn rolled with it and spun about, her rapier extended to land in a wicked slash across Osric's back and this time, he felt it. The ghostly armour was visibly pierced as the blade scraped across, cutting his fine tunic and leaving a thin line of blood. He cried out at the sudden shock of pain he hadn't expected to feel and shoved Carthack to the ground, turning to face Madelyn with surprise and indignation on his features.

"Yes," Aislin hissed to herself as she ducked into the deep shadows once more, thrilled that Jaz's magical improvement to the blade had worked.

"Time for a rematch I think," Madelyn taunted him, assuming a fencing stance with the tip of her rapier extended before her. A spark of electricity popped along its length as the ring embedded into its hilt discharged its power into its iron. Osric warily paced around her, his blade also at the ready while the battle raged on around them.

With a sudden move, he brought his blazing sword down in a sweeping arc, which Madelyn could have avoided if she wanted but instead, encouraged by the hit she had scored she raised her rapier to block the attack. The two blades met and instead of being sliced in two, her rapier stopped it in mid-air.

"Well, isn't this interesting," Madelyn remarked to Osric's distress. With a sudden flurry of movement they continued the duel, parrying and riposting with their blades as each sought to best the other. Aislin noticed that unlike the last time they had confronted him, Osric was moving at normal speed and his blows didn't seem nearly as strong. Madelyn noticed this too and despite her fatigue, she pressed the attack, backing him further into the mountain fortress amidst the chaos of the fight.

Captain MacRae and her remaining guards had taken up the sidearms dropped by fallen Kurhanir soldiers and were using them to return fire against the enemy positions further out, while Conrad, under orders from Jaz, was breaking up their positions by lumbering into their ranks and tossing the slower ones about.

Further out on the field, in the afterglow of the huge explosion Salinder was still fighting the rest of the army, many of whom appeared to be fleeing into the night as fast as they could. There were still too many remaining for him to assist in the fight against Osric, so it was up to Aislin and her companions to put him in his place.

Madelyn had pushed Osric closer to where Aislin was hiding amongst the rubble of the gate and she recognised the time for her to act was rapidly approaching. With her hands clammy and her mouth dry, she crept around the edge of the fallen gate and crouched, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Madelyn broke through Osric's defence in two quick strikes, zapping him with the electricity crackling along her blade. He shrieked in pain and appeared to be faltering, for on a level playing field he was simply outclassed by the quick young woman. Her advantage lasted right up until the magic Jaz had instilled into her sword gave out and Osric's arcane blade simply sliced it in half.

With a snarl of triumph Osric immediately followed through, punching the startled girl in the face with the hilt of his weapon, dropping her to the floor. Aislin gasped at the sudden turnaround and knew she had waited too long so she burst out of hiding and hurried forward.

"Clever, but not enough," Osric rasped, out of breath after the brief but furious fight as he levelled his sword at Madelyn's throat. She simply looked up at him defiantly, covered in sweat and dirt and gasping for breath, yet with a faint smile on her face as Aislin, still unnoticed on her approach, put Sliver to work.

While Madelyn's blade had managed to pierce the ghostly armour and score a few minor hits, Sliver simply ignored the powerful magic entirely and cut deeply into Osric's back as Aislin dashed past. He screamed in pain and whirled around, lashing out with his sword at whoever had gashed him so badly. His weapon sliced nothing but the air over her head, for he hadn't been expecting an opponent that small.

Aislin risked a quick glance behind her and saw Madelyn, with no weapon and appearing almost spent from the savage fight, taking advantage of the distraction to backflip away from Osric, who didn't appear to care about her any more. The seething rage on his face was directly squarely at Aislin as he set off after her.

Lit by flame and strewn with remains of the gate, the entrance to Aurumgaard was unrecognisable and dangerous to navigate. Aislin's eyes were sharp and her reflexes as nimble as a cat, so she was able to find her way through the rubble without stumbling on something sharp. Wounded and running in a blind fury, Osric was held up in his pursuit more than once as he ran afoul of the treacherous floor underfoot.

This gave Aislin a little more time to think, as this wasn't going to plan. She had never anticipated confronting Osric directly and knew that after their last encounter, he wasn't going to let her have another chance to shove Sliver into his leg. Ahead of her, a squad of Kurhanir soldiers had rushed past the lumbering Conrad and into the city in a last-ditch attempt to support Osric and win the battle. They were met by Captain MacRae as she led her exhausted troops into the fray once more.

Aislin had a slim chance to avoid being seen and with her heart racing, dodged through the melee in an effort to keep Osric from catching her. She lashed out with Sliver as she ran past the soldiers, wounding and distracting them to give Isla and her men an edge in their desperate fight.

As she emerged from the other side, Aislin ran straight into a rope tied between the floor and the ceiling and spun out of control, landing on her elbows and scraping her knees painfully on some rough stone. She winced in pain and tried to get back on her feet, for Osric was only a few yards behind her. Glancing at the rope, she remembered what it was attached to, high above the gate.

"You've hurt me for the last time," Osric growled as he staggered towards her with his sword poised to strike. Aislin didn't take her eyes from him as she swung Sliver in a wide arc, easily slicing through the rope which instantly whipped up into the darkness near the ceiling, releasing its deadly cargo from high above.

Oblivious to his peril, Osric never heard it coming but Aislin watched in awe as the thick net full of stone dropped from ten yards above and crashed to the ground, engulfing him completely as a cloud of dust and debris obscured the scene. Coughing, Aislin got back on her feet and kept a wary eye on the pile of stone, hoping that this would finally finish him off.

She wasn't the only one to have seen his apparent demise, for the Kurhanir soldiers, lacking any leadership or direction, saw their one chance to take the city fall with him. Not far away, Jaz and Gordon also watched the scene with keen interest, knowing that victory was within their grasp.

Their hopes were dashed a moment later as the pile of stone exploded outwards in a ball of green fire and from the destruction, Osric emerged - rattled, bleeding and barely able to walk, but still very much alive. Aislin felt her heart wither in her chest, for any other person would have been killed in the fall and she had no idea how this monster could be beaten. She stumbled backwards, watching him with growing horror as he bore down on her in a mad rage. He had sheathed his sword and instead, his right arm was raised and glowing with an eerie green light.

He pointed it at Aislin and a superior smile creased his fair features, as he seemed ready to unleash another bolt of destruction up directly upon her.

"Let's see you run away from this," he purred, though he never had a chance to use it. Osric had barely stopped speaking when an explosion erupted from nearby, impacting directly on his chest and sending him flying backwards several yards where he landed amidst the rubble Aislin had dropped on him. She turned to see Gordon resting Thunderchief on the edge of the fallen gate, smoke wafting around him and from its huge maw.

"Result," he grunted in satisfaction. Despite his levity, Aislin watched Osric's unmoving body, expecting him to rise again at any moment. The rest of the Kurhanir still close enough to see watched him too, but as the seconds ticked past and Osric remained still, their morale broke and they retreated from the fight.

At first only a few soldiers ran from the city, but as others watched them go a vast tide of those still able to move joined in, fleeing the battle as fast as their tired legs could carry them, with the golden form of Salinder swooping and harrassing them as they went.

Aislin finally let out a sigh of relief and slumped to the ground. Captain MacRae and the few remaining dwarven guards did the same, wearily removing their helmets as it became clear they had finally won. Outside, a bitter wind picked up and a few flakes of snow drifted from the sky.

"Knew it," Gordon said with a tired grunt, resting his forehead against his hand cannon in relief. Aislin watched, detached and numb at the snowflakes dancing through the air, feeling as though she should be celebrating their victory but having no strength to do it. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find Madelyn standing there with her hand extended.

"Give me your weapon," she requested. "I want to make sure he's dead this time." Aislin hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should do this herself before handing Sliver over.

"Make it quick," she whispered tiredly. "I'm so sick of all the killing."

"This will be the last one," Madelyn assured her, limping over to Osric's prone form with Sliver glinting in her hand. She cautiously nudged him with one boot, waiting for some sign he was alive before shrugging and kneeling beside him. So it came as a complete shock when Osric sprang to life once more, knocking Sliver from Madelyn's hand and grabbing her by the waist.

He was bloodied, bruised, and didn't seem to be able to stand up, but he didn't have to. He glared at Aislin, a look of undisguised hatred as he held the struggling young woman in his grasp before smacking the gauntlet on his left hand, enveloping them in a flash of blinding violet light. When her vision cleared, Aislin gasped when she saw they had both disappeared.

"Madelyn!" she cried, hurrying to the spot where they had last been in the slim hope she'd managed to slip from his grasp at the last moment, but only Sliver's shining blade lay amongst the wreckage. The wind picked up speed, clearing the area of smoke as the snow began to blanket the ground outside. Aislin shivered, too spent to cry or cheer as Conrad stood at the entrance, beginning a silent vigil that would last throughout the night.

* * *

Aislin awoke early the next morning, buried under a pile of blankets someone had covered her with during the night. The brilliant light of a clear winter's day poured in through the city's entrance, almost too much to bear after weeks of near-darkness. Around fifty of the locals who hadn't been directly involved in the fighting were slowly picking up the pieces of the ruined gate or sweeping the floor, a process that would certainly take days.

The wounded had been cared for and most of the injured would recover, including Carthack, who had sustained multiple bullet wounds, a broken rib and enough bruising to cover Aislin from head to toe. Jaz had made an extra large and concentrated batch of her salve, now more potent than ever and with it, the wounds of the brave defenders would heal rapidly.

Aislin could have gone back to sleep quite easily. She'd more than earned it, and her body cried out for it after the fierce battle the night before, but her mind wouldn't let her rest when there was something more important to be done.

She had a bite to eat and searched among the shuttered shops for some warm pants in her size, and a thick winter cloak, then gathered up the rest of her gear and some provisions.

"I was expectin' to see ya bundled up in yer bed all day long, Ace," Gordon remarked when he, Jaz and Carthack spotted her amongst the shops. "Instead, it looks to me like yer plannin' on goin' somewhere. Could it be yer eager to see yer old man back home?"

"Not yet," Aislin answered without looking at him. "I'm going to rescue Madelyn from Osric." She continued packing for a few moments longer before noticing the silence and, when she turned to see what was wrong, Aislin saw a look of astonishment on their faces.

"Are you mad?" Jaz blurted. "She's been utterly horrible to everyone here for weeks on end. If you asked anyone else here to help rescue Madelyn they'd probably laugh in your face. Why would you consider risking your life for that woman?"

"You don't understand," Aislin objected, "she's not like that, not really. Her parents were absolutely horrible to her when she was a kid and now she's angry and scared all the time. She doesn't really mean it."

"My backside reckons she did," Jaz retorted, recalling the time Madelyn kicked her to get her moving faster.

"If she had a chance to apologise to you I know she would," Aislin pressed. "We can't just leave her to be Osric's prisoner – nobody deserves that. Besides, he got away from us again and we can't leave him out there to stir up more mischief. Our mission hasn't changed, we just need to keep chasing him a little further and now we know where to find him – Kurhain." Her friends appeared very sceptical and remained silent.

"Carthack, you and Madelyn were starting to become very close," Aislin continued. "Don't you want to help her now when she needs us the most?"

"Madelyn is, how you say? 'High maintenance'," Carthack answered ruefully. "Real test of a person is during great challenge. You all do very well, stay strong during siege. Madelyn may be troubled, but is no excuse for bad behaviour. She failed test." Aislin didn't have an answer for that but she wasn't going to let it stop her.

"Okay, if you don't want to help, I'll go by myself," Aislin said firmly.

"Look, the winter snows are gonna block the pass north and south very soon," Gordon explained. "The people here are gonna have a tough time livin' in the city with no gate to keep the weather out. I was thinkin' o' stayin' here for the winter at least to help rebuild, and then we can keep goin'."

"Madelyn doesn't have that long," Aislin reminded him, "and Osric isn't going to sit around all winter. He and his allies are going to try something like this again, I'm sure of it. Do what you want, though."

"Ace," Gordon admonished her, but she ignored him, shouldering her pack of supplies as she headed past. However, she did stop next to Jaz and gave her a sad look.

"You're very brave Aislin, but I... I just don't think she's worth it," she stammered, unable to cover her true feelings concerning Madelyn.

"I'll miss you," Aislin whispered, giving her a hug. Jaz returned it, oblivious to Aislin's hand slipping inside her satchel and retrieving the last of the magical message paper. She said nothing further, pocketing the piece of paper as she walked off down the boulevard in search of Keg, leaving her friends to think about it on their own.

After half an hour of searching, she finally located the big ginger tomcat lounging around near the grain silo with a few other local cats. Amongst them were half a dozen tiny kittens, mewing and tumbling about playfully on unsteady paws. Curiously, a lot of them bore the same ginger fur as Keg, bringing a big smile to Aislin's face.

"So, you're a daddy now," she laughed as Keg's tail lashed around cheerfully. "Look at all these little keglings, they're so cute. I... have to go. Madelyn needs my help, but I suppose you'll want stay here now and be a responsible father -"

She didn't even finish talking before Keg trotted to her side and butted his head into her leg affectionately, purring like an avalanche. Aislin patted him thoroughly, silently grateful that she didn't have to do this on her own after all. With Keg by her side, they walked through the dark city halls for the last time on their way to the entrance.

A group of locals had gathered near the remains of the fallen gate, with King Angus and Isla MacRae among them. They noticed Aislin approaching and gestured for her to come closer, their stern faces making her a little concerned until she noticed Sliver in Isla's hand, at which point she became very concerned.

"We found yer weapon in the ruins," Isla remarked as Aislin warily eyed the vast opening not far past them, certain she could dash past them if this conversation went where she feared it would. Isla held Sliver a little higher, where it's shining blade caught the clear daylight. "It's rare enough that someone would be carryin' a vythir blade o' dwarven design," Isla went on, "but even rarer that said blade would be carryin' a mark o' betrayal upon it."

"I can explain," Aislin blurted, suddenly on the defensive.

"I hope so, because anyone carryin' a weapon like this would ordinarily be cast out o' the city, or worse," King Angus warned. "Yer young, and not one of our people, so ye probably don't know that such a mark is given to a weapon used to kill a loved one, a friend, or a family member. We may be tough as stone, but me people are big softies at heart, and we don't take such things lightly. The weapon used in such an act is cursed, and in turn it curses them that carry it, which in this case, would be you."

"It was a gift from a great man," Aislin hastily tried to explain, "and he would never have used it to kill someone he cared about." They stood there looking at her with silent disapproval for a moment, until Isla offered Sliver to her, hilt first.

"We're a superstitious people, slow to adapt to the changing world around us," she explained, "but it's obvious that over the past few weeks that ya haven't been a curse on us, Aislin Ballard. Ye've been a blessing in disguise, and whatever curse was on this blade has been cleansed by yer selfless good will to the people o' our city."

"When I found the blade last night," Ewan added, "the first thing I noticed was the mark. I'm one of the few people in all o' Feydwiir that knows the ancient art of working with vythir, so after we talked about it, I went to the trouble o' removin' the mark. Well, I couldn't remove it altogether," he went on as Aislin looked in wonder at the old smith, "so I changed it to something a little more appropriate."

Taking a closer look, Aislin saw the symbol had been altered into the shape of a hammer, inlaid with a tiny piece of gold – the golden hammer from the flag of Aurumgaard.

"Wherever ye carry it, ye carry a piece of us with ye," King Angus declared proudly. With a tear in her eye, Aislin rushed in and gave each of them a firm hug.

"Plenty o' strength in this one," Ewan croaked as Aislin almost crushed him to death.

"I'll never forget you," she whispered.

"Yer leavin, we heard," Angus announced. "Don't worry about us, lass, I've been informed that friends are on the way." He nodded to something out through the entrance and turning to look, Aislin saw Salinder sitting on his haunches, wings folded and watching the discussion curiously.

Aislin waved goodbye to them but she was distracted by the sudden appearance of the small dragon. She walked through the gaping entrance and past Conrad's watchful gaze, out into the bright sun for the first time in two months, relishing the sensation even as the cold wind whipped her cloak about.

I hope you're not planning on using that thing, Salinder spoke within her mind. She looked at Sliver still in her hands and quickly sheathed it.

"I'd never use it against a friend," she answered hastily. "Though I think someone once did, and I think you know who it was."

I do, Salinder replied solemnly. It feels like a lifetime ago now, but I knew the man who once wielded that knife. It wasn't the blade but his choices that led to his downfall. I know you have your suspicions about who I used to be but please, keep them to yourself. It's difficult enough to move on without people trying to remind you of what you used to be, you know?

"Not really," Aislin conceded, "but I'll keep your secret. Thanks for coming to help us. I wasn't sure if that message got to you or not."

It did, and I'm sorry it took me so long to arrive, but I needed help," Salinder responded as Keg rubbed up against his foreleg, purring happily. One flyover revealed an entire army and though I'm both mighty and handsome, I wasn't strong enough to take them on my own. A large force of soldiers and supplies will be arriving from Aielund by the end of the day, to make sure the people will have everything they need to make it through the coming winter, but thanks to you and your companions, I had all the support I needed. You can thank yourselves as much as me. I'd stay and help here, but I need to keep moving.

"Why?" Aislin asked curiously.

You may recall Leviachon, the large and very angry dragon who tried to kill us? He seems to have a chip on his shoulder – me, as it happens, and part of the reason it took so long to arrive is that I had to lose him first. The last thing you needed was for that monster to show up on your doorstep.

"Certainly not. I had thought of writing that message to him instead of you, but then I thought the better of it."

Very wise, Salinder congratulated her as he spread his wings. I'll stay on the move to keep him busy. Farewell, Aislin Ballard. We shall meet again. With that he beat his wings and launched into the skies, quickly vanishing over the top of the mountains in a flash of gold.

With a wistful sigh, Aislin pulled her cloak tightly around her, then took out the small piece of magical paper, along with a quill and vial of ink. It was the last message she could send, but it was important.

"Stay strong, I'm coming for you," she wrote, then folded it in half and pictured Madelyn's face. The paper formed into the shape of a small dart and flew off into the sky, circling around twice before heading in a southerly direction.

"Then that's where we have to go," she said to Keg, who meowed in reply but grabbed onto her leg and wouldn't let go. "What are you doing?" Aislin cried, unsuccessfully trying to pull away. The sound of approaching footsteps made her turn and look back at the entrance to Aurumgaard where, to her delight, she saw Gordon, Carthack and Jaz hurrying to catch up to her, while Conrad stomped along behind them.

"You've changed your mind?" Aislin asked hopefully as Keg finally let her go.

"Just to be clear," Gordon said as he cleared his throat, "we're coming with ya, because yer father would tan me hide if 'e heard I let ya head off into danger on yer own..."

"Because even though we think Madelyn's not really worth saving..." Jaz added awkwardly.

"We trust your judgement," Carthack finished.

"That's good enough for me," Aislin answered with a smile. "Come on then, it's this way," she added, pointing down the road as keg bounded playfully through the fresh snow.

Epilogue

"It's quite a nice drop, this," Max remarked to Yuri as they sat in Osric's luxurious apartment.

"I've rarely been afforded the opportunity to drink expensive wines so I wouldn't know, but it's quite pleasant," the lieutenant agreed. "Do you really think he's going to return tonight?"

"Whether Osric returns in victory or defeat, he will be back," Max confirmed. "If what you've said of his sorcery is true, I doubt they have the power to actually kill -" His words were cut off when a flash of violet light lit up the room for a brief moment. Max had Gunhilde pointed at the light even when he couldn't see and, when the glare finally faded, he saw not one but two people lying on the carpet.

Osric was panting for breath, with sweat and dirt all over him and his fine garments torn and bloodied. In his grasp was a young woman in a similar state of appearance, dressed in rugged leather armour but otherwise unarmed. She broke free of his grip and spun around, probably attempting to flee before she encountered the point of Max's firearm.

"Madam, please stay. I insist," Maximilian informed her in a polite but firm manner.

"Don't think for a second that I'm scared of you," she answered in slightly accented Korat, his native tongue.

"You speak our language, I'm impressed," he answered, noticing she was about to topple over from exhaustion. He lowered his weapon and with his other arm, caught the young woman before she fell. "Take a seat my lady," he offered, guiding her to a chair at the table where Yuri sat, with a broadsword resting easily in one hand. She cast a wary eye at the weapon and the man holding it, and wisely decided to sit very still.

"As for you," Max growled as he aimed his weapon at Osric, "it would seem from your dishevelled appearance you have suffered yet another setback. Perhaps you'd care to explain?"

"When I arrived the gate had been brought down and Major Drake's forces were already in the midst of a pitched battle for control of the city," Osric answered grimly. "I did everything I could to rally the men, but their lack of discipline was their undoing. Even with my power, I could not change the course of the fight and I was forced to retreat when your rabble failed to support me." Max responded to these comments by slamming the back of his fist against the side of Osric's head.

"If you dare speak ill of our soldiers again, I'll finally see just how powerful my sidearm is," he warned. "Tell me of Isidor, and the current state of our forces at Aurumgaard." Osric laughed and spat out some bloody saliva.

"They are routed sir, scattered to the winds," he shouted. "Isidor is dead, along with half the force, routed by a dragon no less."

"A dragon came to their defence?" Max muttered, casting a glance at Yuri.

"Along with a magical construct of remarkable power," Osric confirmed. "Though the gate of Aurumgaard fell, its defenders were not lacking in skill or tenacity."

"Did you see a second construct on the field?" Max pressed, curious to know what became of Anika's secret project.

"I saw nothing of it, but there was a considerable pile of parts and smoking rubble lying around the gate area," Osric responded indifferently, wincing with pain. "The real problem was her, and those with her," he spat, pointing at the dark-haired woman. "They were the ones who thwarted my plans in Aielund! Her, the giant, the dwarf with his ridiculous firearms, the artificer and the girl in the amber dress."

Max considered this startling revelation in silence, gazing at the wounded woman with a measure of respect before turning his attention back to Osric, who had risen to his feet.

"I'm going to find that bloody priest to heal my wounds, and then I'm going to interrogate my captive in the palace dungeons until she tells me everything I want to know. I could use a little recreation after today's events." He grabbed the girl by the wrist with the clear intention of dragging her away, until Max pulled back the hammer on Gunhilde and rested the point against the side of Osric's head.

"If my guess is correct, you don't have the power to withstand a single shot right now, so you will listen," he warned succinctly. "With Isidor dead, control of the northern forces falls to me, so this woman is my prisoner. Your foolish crusade has come to an end with nothing to show for it but a long list of dead men to whose families I will have to write. I will tell them they died gloriously fighting for the security of the Grand Duchy, but we both know that's a lie."

Max pulled Osric's hand away from the woman, who watched all of this play out silently. He also sheathed his weapon which eased the tension in the room.

"I probably have grounds to execute you on the spot, but I will leave that decision to His Grace. After you have seen to your wounds, you will go to the palace and bow before him in disgrace and explain to him what happened to his finest fighting force, and you will beg for mercy. Should you survive the evening, we can talk about ways you might still be of use to us." Flustered and red with fury, Osric touched his arm and vanished once more in a flash of light.

"Thank you," the young woman murmured. She was so covered in dirt and muck that it was difficult to see what she really looked like, but her eyes were bright blue and her features bore the refined look of one from a noble family.

"I understand you were instrumental in Osric's downfall," Max stated, to which the woman nodded slowly. To her surprise, Max removed her right glove and bent his head to kiss the back of her bare hand. "It is I who have you to thank, madam. I only wish you could have finished the job."

"Give me a decent weapon and I'll take another crack at it," she replied with a faint smile.

"You are courageous, but in your condition, I think not," Max responded dourly, then gave Yuri a curt nod. He moved around the table with a set of manacles in hand, which he placed over the young woman's wrist and clamped them in place.

"We have much to discuss, but not here or now," Max said to her confused expression. "My name is Major Maximilian Strauss of the Grand Duchy of Kurhain, and you are my prisoner."

About the Author

Stephen L. Nowland resides in Frankston, Australia, where he spends his time creating stories, games and art to astound and entertain.

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/sln

Further information on this novel and upcoming titles can be found at his website, and you can follow his progress on Facebook and Twitter.

https://www.facebook.com/stephenlnowland

www.stephenlnowland.com.au

@stephennowland

The Ballard Trilogy

In the Wake of War

The Fortress of Gold

Upon the Ashes of Empire

Other titles by the same author

The Aielund Saga

Soldiers of Winter

Soldiers of Avarice

Soldiers of the Crown

Soldiers of Ruin

Soldiers of Legend

Soldiers of Tyranny

Soldiers of the Heavens

