 
Swords and Magic

A short story serial by F.E. Hubert

Copyright 2016 by F.E. Hubert

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or other characters is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Content

Title and copyright

Content

Sword of the Sands

Chapter one: The caravan

Chapter two: Golden dancer

Chapter three: Tribe rules

Chapter four: The cave

Chapter five: The sword

Book of Magic

Chapter one: In the dungeon

Chapter two: The day it started

Chapter three: New moon

Chapter four: Spring fest

Chapter five: Wild magic

Chapter six: The pit

Sword in the City

Chapter one: In the city

Chapter two: Job for a sword

Chapter three: All in a night's work

Chapter four: On the run

Chapter five: Getting the box

Isles of Krake

Chapter one: Krake

Chapter two: Kalis and Dun go shopping

Chapter three: The stronghold

Chapter four: Dungeons

Other titles by F.E. Hubert
Sword of the Sands
The caravan

Dry sands surrounded the isle of moist paradise as far as Mufroen's keen eyes could see. The plains around the oasis the tribe called home this season shimmered in wavering sheets under the pre-noon sun. The high desert was home to none but the tribes who had learned to survive her fickle ways. Those that wandered into her sandy stretches unprepared, were soon overcome by the mind-boiling heat of the baking days, or the biting cold that followed when the sun hid from the night.

In his shelter, Mufroen lay waiting for the hottest hours of the day to arrive. During midday the entire camp would be at rest and under cover from the white heat of the sun. All but Mufroen and Lillin, the drover's daughter. She was destined to join the chief's, his father's, harem as his however manieth wife in a matter of weeks, making it all the more important that their recent affair stay hidden. He closed his eyes to spend the time until they would meet in slumber.

The sound of loud voices woke him. Startled, he was upright and outside the makeshift shelter of cloth before he was more than half awake. The sun told him he hadn't slept long, but being pulled from his dream made him feel like he had. Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, he crouched behind a sandy ledge and watched the spectacle below. Another caravan had arrived, as many more would in the coming days in order to attend the quadrennial meeting of the clans. But no tribesman was likely to arrive at the shelter of the grove so close to the sun's peak, and as Mufroen looked at the carts riding in from under the shading of his hand, he realized it was not a tribe caravan.

Under the shelter of the grove's greenery and trees he could easily approach the open space left between the communal tents without being seen. The new arrivals halted their wagons in front of the large tent the men used for their meetings. The sounds of the men greeting drifted through the shade under ballroom ceiling of the canopy. Mufroen moved from rope cover to rope cover, until he found a spot under one of their own carts that provided shelter and a good view of the new arrivals. The man shaking hands with the chief and the other members of the council of Elders was large, but his fat and muscle had turned to flab by recent dehydration and hunger. He wore colourful tunics and shawls over a pair of long breeches, stuffed into tight ankle boots of orange leather. The harsh sun was already eating into the brightness of the colours, giving them a sad, faded look. More so on the upper side, than where the fabrics were shielded from the glare by the shadows of his arms and legs. Mufroen gave a sharp snort of disdain, no tribesman would ever wear delicate fabrics like those outside the shelter of his tent. A merchant then. The patterned tapestries the women weaved in their tents were much sought after. The thought of the profit they could bring, tempted many a wetlander to try his luck in the waste the tribes called home. From the look of what Mufroen gathered was their leader, they were lucky to have made it this far.

Lillin was waiting for him at his own shelter. She assured him continually that she would get away without suspicion, no matter where she was found, as long as she was found alone. And yet, every time they met, she seemed more restless. As he stepped up to the ridge, he saw her pacing up and down the dell, her long robes dancing up at every turn. He almost stepped back down, but she saw him.

"Where were you?" She said in a tone that made him wince. She clasped her arms around his neck.

"Can't be too careful," He said with an edge of challenge, pulling her arms to loosen her embrace. "Besides, a caravan just pulled in. At midday." She was already pulling him down into the hollow hidden by overhanging rock, but now she stopped her efforts in a show of annoyance.

"It's blasphemy, that's what it is!" Her hands slid down her sides until they reached the hollows above her hips. There they stayed to accent her angry tone. "A carnival during the clan meeting. It's unheard that strangers would be here during so important a time. And no decent carnival, they call themselves a dancing troupe." She stamped her foot on the sand in anger.

Mufroen realized that the fact that there were dancers was the real cause for her frustration. He wondered how she even managed to find this out, before coming to meet him here. The talk in the women's quarters must have been quite something to make her hurry. To his exasperation, Lillin's moods and opinions eddied in an incomprehensible flow, steered by the whims of her many sisters, aunts and nieces. Catching his expression, she drew in breath like a summer gale.

"I forbid you to go there!" He raised one of his dark, slender eyebrows and frowned at her. Something had her flustered. He was just about to point out that he was not yet allowed in the men's tent, and therefore unable to attend any show there might be, dancers, or no dancers, when she continued.

"I'm going to have your baby - " His surprised laugh cut her off. She was not much shorter than he was and she drew every inch of herself up in righteous anger.

"You'll have to marry me now, so you'd better do as I say. If you don't want to end your life on the rack."

He looked at her with his mouth still open, and just before a sharp retort passed his lips, his brain intervened. She was right. If the Elders found out now, there'd be only two ways this could play out. She'd accuse him, and he would find himself stretched on a sun-exposed rack one morning soon, or she would confess complicity, forcing him to marry her. Or go on the rack, if he refused. No matter both their father's wishes and the inevitable outrage of the tribe, he would be stuck with her.

He'd pursued her with a passion, but that had not lasted long after their first few meetings. He had been relieved that in a few weeks she'd be safely locked away in his father's harem. With a numb smile he caressed her cheek.

"I guess you know best, lover."

She looked at him with a distrustful frown, but now that he'd agreed her handholds for berating him were slim and she was quite intelligent enough to realize that it would not do to push him too far. For now she held a leash on him, but the danger to herself was not to be discarded.

She did not look forward to spending her fruitful years under the thumb of Mufroen's old and dried-up father, but it was certainly preferable to exile and almost certain death out in the desert. The only way she could avoid both would be through Mufroen's protection. If she could arrange to be married to him, she'd be his first wife, and since the chances were good that he'd rise to chief when his old man passed, that would be a position of considerable power. She looked over to the man-boy next to her in the sand and smiled. The chances were very good indeed.

Under the long sunrobes of thick, dark blue fabric, hid a powerful body. His short, wiry figure was packed with flat muscles that moved with a dancer's grace and the speed of a snake. His skills with the bellied longsword and traditional two-swords were unrivalled, much to the frustration of quite a number of the Elders. If he had a mind to, he could challenge his father for leadership of the tribe, right then and there.

Despite what Mufroen's quick disinterest might suggest, Lillin had the astounding beauty of a teen tribeswoman. In a few years she would wilt and shrivel before her time and beyond her years, like they all did, but for now she was a spring leaf. Her long, dark hair, mostly hidden by long scarves and the obligatory virgin's turban, fell around her face and down her back like a silken river. Eyes of almond spoke of a lust for life that is given to few, and thick, dark lashes created the illusion of depth that could drown any man's soul.

Any man, except Mufroen it seemed. She knew very well his interest had waned and that she needed to act soon. When he left the shelter after they made love, she watched him disappear smoothly between the rocks. Her full lips pursed in speculation and a deep line creased the smooth surface of her forehead. Had any man with half a brain seen her expression, he would have run. Fast and far.
Golden dancer

Late that night Mufroen sat outside the communal tent, listening to the raucous laughter getting louder, while the music got more and more out of tune. Their strange guests had been allowed to set their tents up just back from and between the communal tent and his father's personal quarters. Women were barred from entering the men's communal tent, but from the sounds drifting out an exception had been made for the women that came with the caravan. A carnival, Lillin had called it. He'd never heard of such a thing, let alone seen it, but he did not doubt that the collective memory of the women's tents was correct.

He was not allowed inside the men's tent, but the loud sounds of enjoyment from within lured him closer. He followed its alluring tentacles to one of the eight corners where the outer covers met in a thick crease. A few flicks with his dagger opened a small hole, almost invisible in the shadows of the moon. Chucking the bulky, ankle-long sunrobes in a smooth twist from shoulder to hips, he wormed into the narrow space between the inner- and outer tents.

The double fabric kept the inner tent cool during day and warm during the bitter desert night, and Mufroen now found out exactly how well the mechanism worked. The air in the layer between the two tents was warm, dank and stifling beyond belief. He lay gasping between efforts to breathe and not to sneeze. When finally he found an equilibrium, he crawled to a seam in the inner tent, open-mouthed and fuzzy-headed. Another two snips cut two leather bindings, letting in a relief of cool air that Mufroen breathed gratefully. When he finally focussed on the happenings inside the large tent, it took him a while before he could be sure what his eyes saw.

The large cavern of the tent was divided into smaller spaces by hanging tapestries and he could see only one of those entirely, the rest mere suggestions of shadowy fabric and flickering candles in their glass housing. What he did see was enough to make him realize why the women had been so outraged. Fascinated, he stayed and watched as long as he dared.

When he left, he deftly pinned the seam in the inner tent closed with a sharp piece of wood through the holes where the stitches had held it before. The hole in the outer tent where he entered was considerably larger, but a length of fabric from his robe and a clever fold hid the damage from casual inspection. He would have to make sure to repair it before the tent was disassembled at the beginning of the trekking season, but he would worry about that later. For now he had other places to be.

The visitor's tent was of shoddy quality compared to the tribe's large, double layered tents. It did have an inner layer, but to Mufroen it seemed made only to please the eye and hide the course fabric of the outer tent, with no further practical use. No practical use besides hiding his presence that is. Long, narrow pieces of semi-opaque fabric hung from a frame up in the highest centre, flowing down along the walls to be held against the outer fabric by large leather loops at shoulder height. From there they flowed loosely to the thick layer of tapestries on the floor, creating an airy tunnel that provided both cover and ample view into the tent.

He'd entered one of the smaller side tents and found it was divided by two thick drapes in a blocked pattern, that left a narrow slit in the middle for a doorway. While he sat there, wondering whether he dared to venture further into the main tent, a woman entered. She was wrapped in narrow but strategically placed lengths of green silk that took both his breath and his brain away. As he stared numbly out into the makeshift chamber, the woman lit candles from the stub she was holding while talking to someone beyond the curtains that divided the tent.

"One hour Rheena," Said the man on the other side "Make sure you're ready. The woman called Rheena didn't respond, she just smiled in the direction of the curtains as she handed the lighting stub back out. She waited until the sounds on the other side left the tent, holding herself up in a deep breath with both hands folded against her chest.

Mufroen admired the intricate braid that trailed her head and down her back, going from a ruddy brown to a golden caramel in the light of the candles. She was as pale as distant sands at midday. Until now he'd dismissed the stories told at the night fire about golden people from beyond the desert as crazy man's fancy, but as he watched Rheena move toward a bunk covered in skins, there was no denying she was real.

She shivered lightly as she pulled up one of the furs around her shoulders. He held his breath against the urge to step to her and put a warming arm around her for comfort. She looked down at her hands holding the fur closed with a twitch of her mouth that suggested an urge to laugh beyond the demure smile on her lips.

"You can step out now," She said, sliding her gaze in Mufroen's direction. "He's a beast, but he does not begrudge us some time to ourselves."

"..- " Mufroen gaped like one of the sand fish when they accidently jumped too high and out of their sandy habitat. Rheena now smiled directly at where he sat behind the shimmering drapes and held out a hand. Shy was not a word that featured in Mufroen's vocabulary much, but now he felt a strange reluctance to step out in the open and face this delicate wonder that sat smiling at him with open amusement.

"I won't bite." A musical tremor in her voice told Mufroen she might at any minute laugh at his unwillingness to show himself. That was too much to bear. No one had ever doubted either his manliness or his daring and the desert take him if he gave this woman reason to do either. In a single move he rose from his cross legged position on the floor and stepped through the curtains.

Rheena looked at him in frank appraisal as he stepped closer and motioned for him to sit next to her on the bench. He sat down on the edge, half turned so that he could face and look at the cream woman that sat beside him in silent anticipation.

"You laugh at me," He said, speaking out despite himself and sounding more bitter than he expected. "And you make me speak when I should be silent. You must be a witch, no one could look the way you do without magics." His expression was angry, but it didn't hold out long against her delighted chuckles and faded into something akin to awe.

"I daresay," She said, taking his hand out of his lap and laying it open in her hand. "That you might just be the closest thing to a man this accursed village has."

"It's a tribe, and I don't believe it's cursed."

"Never mind," She gave a short, bitter laugh. "I guess you're here for the same reasons the others will come for in a short while, it makes no difference to me."

She dropped his hand back into his lap and slung the fur from her shoulders. Mufroen frowned in the beginnings of anger as the meaning of her words dawned on him.

"What do you mean by that?" He grabbed her shoulders and tilted his head in demand. "How do you mean, 'the others will come.'?"

"Judging by your frown, you know exactly what I mean," She ignored his hands that had slid down to hold her arms and traced his face with her fingers. "Looks like my judgment of you was correct after all."

She gave him a smile that made him feel sad of the world in a way that he'd not before anticipated existed. "Come, I think will greatly enjoy being with you." She said, pulling him down with her until they were laying on the bench.

"He is not a pleasant man, but you cannot think the chief would -"

"They will come, without a doubt. Your chief first and foremost unless I miss my guess." She said, shivering again.

"That is scandalous," Mufroen said, sitting up to shake off his sunrobes again and wrap them around the woman beside him. He looked at her with a most serious expression. "I will get you out of here, somewhere where you'll be safe and free."

Rheena sat up clutching his robes around her and shook her head with vigour.

"You must not. There is no such place, and even if there was we'd never reach it."

"The City of the islands will be safe -" He was cut of short by her laugh, which is what we will call it for lack of a better word, but never have you heard something with so little joy.

"Where do you think they grabbed me in the first place? No. You will stay here," She patted his arm with a sad smile. "And if you live, maybe you can make something better of this place."

"You be ready, tomorrow at midnight," There was little room for anything else once Mufroen made up his mind and had Lillin been able to see his expression now, she would have screamed with jealousy that it was another that elicited this kind of devotion from him. "Bring as many furs as you can, it'll be cold. I will meet you down by the boundary. All you need to do is climb out here," He pointed at where he'd made a hole in her tent. "And walk down that way until you reach the edge of the green."

"I may not be able to get out that early.."

"I will wait for you." At that Mufroen ducked through the flimsy inner tent and into the freezing cold of the night air.
Tribe rules

"Did you hear," Lillin bounced down beside him in the sand, rousing him from his slumbering plans. He would have to act as soon as the tribe burst into activity when the day cooled, but now all he had to do was think. "There's a big uproar in the men's tent," She turned to a whispering tone that made all the voices of Mufroen's intuition sit up in with sudden attention. "Apparently they found someone's sunrobes in one of the dancer's tents." If she could, she would have purred. "I wonder who it is."

"I hate to break it to you, shade of my life," He curled a strand of her hair around his finger. "But I seriously doubt they'll come to you to confess."

"No need," She smirked at him, obviously relishing in her superior knowledge. "The chief has a plan to flush them out, tonight at the fire dance."

"Oh, well, then I guess you're right once again."

He smiled with a stony expression, trying to hide the blind panic that had erupted behind his façade of disinterest. If his father was going to try and flush out the culprit, which was Mufroen himself of course, at fire dance, then they both might not make it to their rendezvous, or out of the desert. Let alone what his father had in mind for those that were flushed out.

The tribes of the high desert have long since the beginning of their histories had a power over the desert and the sands that can only be described as eerie. Bothersome enemies are known to have perished in sight of water and whole armies have marched just over the edge of a dune to vanish completely the next moment. There is some discussion as to who actually holds this power, the tribes' men insists that only the joined Elders can utilise it, where the women hold to the belief that it has always been the gatherings of wives that do the actual wielding.

For now, however, this discussion is moot, since in a rare moment of total agreement, they have simultaneously decided to invoke the desert to punish the desecration of long-held traditions.

"You cannot do this," The chubby merchant was bent double before the chief's feet, occasionally rising to wring his hands and shaking them at the starry skies above. "She is my best girl!"

Bound to a pole next to the chief's seat, was Rheena. The moonlight and the fire seemed to conspire to make her look more palely golden and vulnerable than ever and Mufroen had to shake himself to keep from striding over to his father and demanding an explanation in anger. It would be foolish, for one, and also, he suspected that he knew all too well what was going on without his father's, undoubtedly unctuous, explanations of why traditions were to be protected.

Not enough years had passed since his birth for him to be of an age that would traditionally be considered appropriate to claim his manhood. Nevertheless, it had been more than enough for him to realize that tradition was something that the ones in power used to keep those without in check, while they did exactly what they wanted under the guise of that same tradition. It made him sick to his stomach and, more importantly, angry.

There is nothing in the world that can burn as hot, or as deep, as the smouldering ashes of righteous anger, and Mufroen had been nourishing his for quite some time now. It had sparked when the chief, his father, had seen fit to banish his mother out into the desert on some futile charge. With every petty, selfish act, the flames burned higher. And there had been quite a number of those acts.

"Don't worry about your girl, Malik," said the chief with a slick voice. "She might still walk away unharmed," He smiled his gapped teeth to those gathered around the fire. There was much shuffling of feet and only rarely did anyone dare to meet his gaze. The chief was unpredictable when he was angry, so it was better not to attract his attention at a time like this. "All she needs is a protector for the coming trial."

Mufroen was sure his father's gaze rested on him from across the fire. The tribesmen were a short people and Mufroen was of average height and for a moment he wondered how he would be able to recognize him over the blinding blaze of the fire between them. He gritted his teeth and waited, there was always a snake hidden under too smooth sands.

"If her protector is able to bring us the sword of sands before sunrise in two days, she will be cleared," The collective silence of shock was a sound in itself.

Mufroen raised his eyebrows in surprise. The sword of the sands was a story that was told to unruly children when they had to go to bed at night. He'd never thought it could be real.

"That's just a fairy tale, there's no way anyone could get that sword, it doesn't exist!" The words had left his lips before he knew it, and when he saw his father's content expression he also knew that he'd acted exactly as the old man had planned. He stepped forward into the ring of light around the crackling fire.

"I challenge you." He stared into his father's desiccated face and jerked his chin up to underline his words. The old man cackled with pleasure, even going as far as to hit his legs with his hands in his joy. Mufroen didn't know what was so amusing about his challenge, but he was pretty sure he'd find it the exact opposite.

"No my boy, I don't think so."

"You have to accept a challenge from anyone who thinks himself your better," He showed his father his most expressionless face. "Or abdicate."

The chief raised a wrinkled finger and shook it slowly through the air.

"Not quite," He said with relish. "Can anyone tell me why not?" The silence around the fire eddied into frantic whisperings, but none spoke up.

"Ah.. Don't tell me no one knows.."

Mufroen could have throttled his father with the greatest pleasure, just for the taunting expression that was now on his face.

"Treason!" A light voice rang out and people shuffled aside behind Mufroen to let the speaker through. "One accused of treason must be tried before he can challenge," Lillin stepped out into the light some paces from him. "And you have been accused."

"If he's still alive after, that is!" His father laughed and the Elders and most of those around the fire laughed with him. It may not be heartfelt, but it made it very clear where they stood: safely behind their chief.

"You dumb..-" Mufroen bit of his remark and stared back at his father with all the patience he could gather. They might kill him, but he'd be damned if he scrambled in front of his tribesmen.

"But, I'm willing to be fair," The chief said. He motioned for Lillin to join him and fondled her with gusto when she stepped up. "You're a pretty thing, aren't you?"

Mufroen could see disgust flee across Lillin's face and for a short moment he truly felt for her. She had no idea how badly she'd trapped herself, or him, but she was intelligent enough to realize her abominable future soon enough. His father had decades of experience over on her. If she even tried to ply him in the smallest of ways, he'd end her before she'd have time to blink. But it might still be better than what awaited him.

"As your trial, you'll be this harlot's protector and bring us the sword," He leaned forward with a satisfied grin on his craggy features. "You have two sunrises, I suggest you make haste."

"I doesn't exist," He kneeled next to the pole to which Rheena was bound, she'd sagged down in her bonds and was sitting in an uncomfortable crouch. "I'm so sorry."

She smiled at him, squinting against the sand that blew in her face and shivering violently in the cold night air. He'd gotten the largest fur blanket out of her tent and tucked it in around her, but he could tell that she'd gotten too cold to warm herself up quickly.

Only a few stragglers were left around the fire. Now that the spectacle was over and the victim's fates as good as sealed, most had retreated to the communal tents to prospect on what would happen in the morning. He slid the blanket open again and folded himself around the trembling woman. A small sigh of relief escaped her mouth as she pushed into the heat of his body.

They must both have fallen asleep somehow, because when Mufroen awoke some time later the fire was reduced to embers and nothing but silence could be heard from inside the tents. But something had woken him, so he disentangled himself from the sleeping Rheena as gently as he could and walked between the tents.

He looked around, everybody seemed to be in the deep slumber of middle night and apparently nobody'd considered setting out guards. With a sniff he headed toward the back of the camp. If he could get some supplies from the storage tents and a sled, they would have a chance when they made a run for it. Honour was all nice when everyone played by the rules, but he preferred to play alongside the rules and live to enjoy another day. He was quite sure Rheena would have no compunctions in the area of tribal honour and he doubted his father saw her as enough of a person to have made her swear that she wouldn't run. And even if he did, she didn't have to run, he was taking her.

He found one of his father's competition sleds in storage and unwrapped it with pleasure. They were made of the best woods and skins the dessert could provide, its sleek form would give them a chance to outrace the tribe. He'd packed it lightly, but brought extra water and furs, Rheena would not be used to the hardship and there was no point in saving her if he couldn't keep her alive long enough to get her safe. Although, he probably would still try, even without supplies. Better to be taken by the desert than to die at the hands of a petty old man.

He stepped up towards the fire to free Rheena and run for it, when a hand closed on his arm in a grip that was not to be denied. He turned and twisted to sweep his assailants feet from under him, and silently slit his throat, when he recognized the shape behind him as Lillin.

"Strong grip," He said with a measure of respect, then flicked her hand off his arm. "What do you want?"

"You have to take me with you," She glared at him from under her shawl. "This is all your fault, so you'd better save me, if you know what's good for you." She used the same menacing tone as always, but she was no longer bullying the same Mufroen as before. His face remained placid as a stone under the noon glare.

"Or what?"

".. I'll scream -"

She sounded frightened, but she'd dug the hole herself, so she could lie in it. Besides, they'd never make it with three to a sled.

"- Thought so," He said, clasping her mouth shut with his hand. With a few quick moves he had her gagged and bound tight with her own shawls. She howled behind the swab of fabric, but he estimated that it would take her at least until sunrise to free herself or rouse somebody, so he left her trussed between two tents.
The cave

Rheena still shivered lightly against his back, but he could feel her grip on the furs on his back was strong. Much to his pleasure she had neither objected or asked questions, and when he looked over his shoulder to check on her when they were going down a steep dune earlier, she'd looked exhilarated. Sound did strange things on the sands, especially at night. He was sure that if he hadn't warned her to be dead silent, she would have howled with joy. He grinned. They might not last long, but he'd be damned if they didn't try their hardest to get out of this demon-infested desert.

That was approximately the same moment that the desert seemed to come alive and work against them. It'd been subtle at first, just a small avalanche that went the wrong way. Then there was gritty sands that killed their speed. Nothing that screamed 'Magic!' or 'Demons!', but Mufroen knew from the get-go that they were in serious trouble. He wasn't sure if it was his own treachery that set the desert against them, or that the tribe had noticed them missing and was calling up the spirits. It wouldn't matter in the end. When the sand storm was starting to pound away at the two figures huddled over the barely moving sled, he was sure their last hour had come. Until the silent figure behind him squeezed his sides and rose to what passed for a standing position in a desert gale.

"There," She screamed with her mouth on his ear and he could still barely hear her voice over the wailing of the winds. "A cave!" With effort she pointed to their left and he was already opening his mouth to tell her that what she saw was the stormy version of a fata morgana, when he realized she was right, there was a cave. Steering towards the welcoming mouth of silent darkness, he just had time to wonder where they had wandered off to. There were no caves along the route he'd chosen.

Right behind the wide mouth the cave twisted into a narrow tunnel, blocking the biting sting of sand and the roaring fury of the winds. They had to step off the sled and pull it, walking in goose-step through the crevice until they stepped into what felt like a sea of darkness. The air slapped their cheeks with damp chill and the distinct smell of moist, underground rocks and things that grow in the dark.

"Hold on to my cape," Mufroen said urgently, frantically grabbing the air behind him to find his companion. "It feels like a place where it'd be easy to get lost." He felt a comforting tug near his lower back and turned toward the sled for his fire set.

Hmm.. I wouldn't do that if I were you.

"Who's there?" He straightened slowly, ignoring the cold chill that was spreading along his spine and favourite parts.

Danger lives here, especially for the warm-blooded..

Mufroen didn't care at all for the suggestion of glee that accompanied the last remark, but he was sure he recognized the voice that was speaking, faint and cracked as it sounded now.

"Mother?"

Aaahh.. Yes. You do remember me, dear boy...

The voice didn't so much stop speaking as eddy away into the strangely echoless expanse of the cave.

"So, no light. What then?"

..Such a practical boy..

Mufroen had the impression that the voice smiled at him and he couldn't help but smile in response. He'd been fond of his mother, and it had been long years since they spoke.

... _Walk-walk, walk.. Don't turn arounddd.._

The message was chilling enough in the utter darkness that surrounded them, but the suggestion of insanity that came with the sing-song voice sank his stomach like a sack of grinding stones. Still, he believed the ghostly voice when it said that it would be unwise to light a fire, so he figured they could as well take the rest it said under advisement.

"Just hold on, there'll be an exit when we reach the other side." He sounded sure, but the farther they shuffled on the uneven flooring, the more lights and appearances his sensation deprived eyes and mind conjured up. He was sure something was speaking to him just below the edge of hearing, it wracked his nerves to futilely strain his ears, but part of his mind suggested that he should be grateful not to understand the horrors hidden in the insistent whispers.

At least Rheena did not complain, her grip on his cape was steady and the swishing of her feet against the sand was a comforting presence behind him. Time lost its meaning when Mufroen realized that the faint glow that they were walking towards had been there for some while, unmoving and growing slowly larger.

"I – I think we're reaching the outside."

Rheena just lightly increased the pressure of her hand against his back for a moment to urge him onward, and rightly so. Wishful talking wouldn't get them out any faster, but steady legwork would.

The light was blinding, searing the back of his helpless eyes with its stabbing rays and he had to hold a hand out to shield them as he stumbled along towards the source of the light. A breath of wind kissed the skin of his hand and he soon felt the stinging tingle of sand being swept up against him.

Wahahaa, out.. OUT! Finally we're free!

Mufroen turned on his axis, smooth as a waterfall and with the easy speed of years' practise with the sword. He had his dagger up and out, ready for use. All he saw was sand. Sand, that danced in a row of vortexes stretching back out into the dark cave in shapes that shouldn't have been able to be in the sheltered space of the cavern.

"Rhee - "

The sands pelted him mercilessly, sharp blows pushed him down until he crouched on hands and feet, only the part of his face that was pressed against the rocks escaped the continuous pounding of the sand as it blew out into the early morning sky. With a faint hiss one of the sandy spirals whirled in place, lingering for a moment.

Thank you hero, we've been locked in there for a long time.

The shape twisted what Mufroen imagined was his head wistfully out to where his brothers and sisters were already skipping and jumping across the dunes.

It's not too late. If you're brave enough, you might be able to get her out still..

The shape had been growing smaller as the distance between him and the other twisters grew and now a miniature version of itself raced across the drifts to catch up with them.

The last cold of the night drew a finger of ice along his shuddering spine. He crossed his arms over his chest, pulling his improvised cape of skins closer against the chill. As he looked into the dark mouth of the cave, he had to admit that it was not the cool morning winds that caused him to tremble. It might be his imagination, but as he stared into the abyss of the dark, he could swear that there was still something inside, staring back at him. The sun's tentative rays warmed his shoulders with the comforting heat of the day.

He turned toward the sands to get a few hours distance between himself and the cursed cave before he had to take shelter from the burning noon heat somewhere. He made it halfway to the first ridge when Rheena's sad and world-forgiving smile raised itself in his memory.

"She would understand," He said, dropping the short distance that was between his knees and the steep sandy slope he was plodding up at a sandman's diagonal angle and turning to slide down with a sigh of self-reproach. "Which is exactly why I can't leave, damn her!"
The sword

He walked back into the cave and was almost instantly surrounded by the mind-wrenching black soup he'd been relieved to leave behind mere moments before. In his robes he held some improvised torches, but he wouldn't light them until he was sure there would be use for them. Until then they would only blind him to anything beyond the circle of their light. Worse, they'd point his position out to anything that dwelt in the cave like a festering finger. The illusion of safety wasn't worth all that, but he held a strong grip on their slender shapes through his cape all the same. They weren't much, but they were all they had if it came to it.

He walked through the dark cavern in an attempt to retrace his steps, but a few paces in he couldn't tell his back from his front. His only option was to keep going and if the fates favoured him today, he would up where he needed to be. And if not, well, then not.

Only a short while in the sun had blasted away all the memories of the hours spent feeling his way forward in the reeling depths of darkness, but once he was back between the shimmering glows and sparkles of his mind, it was as if he'd never left them. He walked on. His feet were numb from the damp chill and he stumbled more and more over the uneven flooring as it became harder to lift them.

He still clutched his meagre supply of firewood, but there was no way his cramped hands could tell if the shapes they were holding were still there. Twice he almost dropped them with the panicked jerk that was meant to ascertain their presence. He walked with his head bowed and almost shambled past the pale blue glow to his right, thinking it another figment of his tormented imagination. Through a thick haze of numbing fatigue he managed to angle towards it, just before he plunged into a blackness all of his own.

"Wake up, you sore excuse for a hero," Mufroen blinked, at least he thought he did, and realized he was lying flat on his face. He rolled over, blinking into the dim of the chamber. "How are you supposed to fight your way out, lying down?"

Mufroen disentangled himself from his cape and robes with some effort and looked around the room. The disintegrated remains of what looked very much like a treasure chamber come armoury were scattered over the floor and against the walls. A once proud lance bowed sadly over the large stone chest standing against the back wall. Behind it he saw the faint glow of light refracted on silk, he stepped towards the slumped form with quick steps.

"Oi! What's it take to be taken seriously around here? No touching the pretty lady until after you finish the quest. And win of course, otherwise you die, and you can't be touching her when you're dead."

"Uhm.." Mufroen hesitated and realized there was no good way to ask 'who, what, how and where?' without adding to the confusion.

"Pfff.." The voice let out a long sigh that conveyed the accumulated annoyance of years of being overlooked. "In the coffin, you twerp."

Stepping gingerly around the rusting arrowheads and discarded pots that littered his path, he stepped up to the catafalque supporting the stone sarcophagus. The light was too dim to make out the etchings along its side and lid in any detail, but the lid was askew and showed him a brighter slice of the blue-glowing light. It took several sideways shoves with most of his, admittedly modest, weight behind it to open the casket far enough to make out what was inside.

"Bloody about time," Mufroen gaped at the object that lay on the now decayed but clearly once lush and rich fabric. "Ow bullocks, don't tell me I took all this effort to guide a gaping mute down here. Then I'll never get out."

"Uhm.. You're a sword."

Later, he would have to admit that this was even beyond stating the obvious. If there were a template or mould from which all swords ever crafted derived their shape, than this was it. The scabbard that that encased the blade was of a material that was black to the point that it exuded the blue sheen that brightened the chamber they were in. Undecorated, it looked as fresh and clean as the day it was made. The same went for the sword's grip, although the dust lay on everything thick enough to make Mufroen's eyes water with every step, the pommel and cross-guard looked as if they'd just had a polish and wipe-down a moment ago.

"Yes, I'm a sword. Big shocker. Now close your gap before you swallow any more of that dust and get us the hell out of here!"

"What about the quest," He asked, staring at the sword he now held in his hand. In felt light and slightly sticky, like the grip was holding his hand as much as his hand was holding the grip. "You said there was a quest before I can take Rheena."

"Well," Mufroen was already getting used to talking to a sword and it talking back, but now he could swear he saw it flinch, which is quite the accomplishment without an actual face to do the flinching. "I was sort of hoping we'd skip that entire chapter. Just grab her and run. And for the love of Zimtar, don't drop me."

"Don't worry," Mufroen grinned, showing a set of teeth that already showed the sharp line between upper and lower teeth that came with living in the desert and slung the belt over his hips with practised ease. Rheena seemed to be unconscious, but she was light as a feather and fitted comfortably over his shoulder.

Three paces after leaving the chamber a bone-jarring rumble stopped Mufroen in his tracks.

"What's that?"

"Eeehh.." Came the miserable reply from down by his hip. "I'm afraid the quest just woke up."

"Woke up..?"

It was not easy to throw a demanding look down at your own hip, while carrying a limp body nearly your own weight, but Mufroen managed it. And was rewarded with a contrite moment of silence.

"Well?"

"Let's just say the casket wasn't just for me and the other inhabitant seems to have noticed I've gone."

"Wait a minute, I know this story," Mufroen said as he resumed a sturdy pace to where he believed the exit was. "You're the sword that's supposed to keep the desert kings from rising. You're the sword of the sands! Why did you let me take you?"

"King, singular, actually. And, well – Have you ever tried lying in a casket, guarding a dead body for all time? Let me tell you it gets distinctly tiresome after the first few centuries."

"What do we do, should I put you back?"

"No! I mean, I think it's rather too late for that. I suggest you run. Fast. And while you do that, I'll try to come up with a plan."

Rheena had woken from the jostling on his shoulder and was pacing alongside him by the time they saw the glow of daylight ahead of them, just before it was blocked by something.

"Any plan yet?" Mufroen asked, pushing Rheena to safe distance as he grabbed the sword's grip.

"Nothing definite, no."

"Great help you are," Mufroen grumbled as he drew his new sword from its scabbard and almost dropped it to the rocky floor as it came free. The scabbard was of no remarkable length and Mufroen expected to see a blade of similar dimensions, maybe slightly longer, since scabbards have a tendency of appearing shorter that the steel they contain. Not this sword. It seemed to unfold itself as it was drawn, revealing a blazing span of blade-shaped lightning that reached easily more than twice the length of the sheath that now dangled empty at his side.

Despite its dimensions, the sword handled like one of the light double swords he practiced with and Mufroen couldn't help laughing maniacally while he hacked away at the shape between them and the exit. Much to his disappointment, his slashes didn't seem to impress what time had left of the sand king.

In the glow of his sword he could make out the withered extremities of the shape that staggered toward them through the inconvenience of his repeated hits. He saw more than one strike that would have left any man of flesh and blood mortally wounded, bounce away from the dehydrated bones and tendons, taking only polite slivers of tissue.

"He doesn't seem impressed."

"I WAS AFRAID OF THAT -"

"Holy -"

"YES, THE SCABBARD DOES TAKE OFF THE EDGE QUITE IMPRESSIVELY, DOESN'T IT," The sword nodded its tip to the side. "YOUR GIRLFRIEND SEEMS TO HAVE A PLAN."

Mufroen glanced over his shoulder to see Rheena waving frantically for his attention and pointing at the lit torch she was holding out to him. He looked back to the oncoming desert king and decided that she might have the right idea. The lack of flesh kept the sword from stopping him, but with a bit of luck he'd catch like last year's timber.

Lighting the other two pieces of cloth-covered stalk from the first, she thrust the newly lit pieces in his free hand as she ran around him and toward the approaching figure's flank. Waving her already dimming flame worked as the proverbial red cloth and the ancient sand king staggered to a halt and creaked like dry leather, changing his direction toward Rheena.

"Now!" She screamed, but Mufroen had already seen his chance and stuck the flimsy torches between the creature's ribs.

The effect was, mildly put, impressive. The body that had been drained from all its moisture over too many ages to comfortably think about in the dark, burst into flame with a loud 'Whoof!' and burned painfully bright for a moment. Then it simply collapsed in a heap of ashes. Mufroen and Rheena ran out into the hot brightness of midday.

"PUT ME BACK IN THE SCABBARD PLEASE, I'M MAKING MY HEAD RING."

Mufroen was happy to oblige as he guided pale-skinned Rheena back into the shade of the cave mouth. After a tentative check of the pile of ashes, prodding it with his boot, he walked back over to her.

"Very much a pile of ash. We should rest, then we can set off at nightfall," He looked at the delicate woman next to him with unease. She looked very soft and the desert was a hard place, even on a good day. "I'm sorry to say we lost our sled, so we're going to have to walk."

She seemed to read his mind and smiled at him in a way that would have been roguish on anyone else. "Don't be fooled by all the make-up and frilly clothes, I'm not made of sugar," She looked out at the burning sun with a worried frown and then smiled up at him again. "Maybe you should teach me how to preserve water, just looking at all that sand makes me want to drink a lake."

And so, that night found a strange threesome making their way across the desert sands.

***

***
Book of Magic
In the dungeon

Dun sighed with self-pity.

It seemed the wizard had more talent for scrying the future than he'd let on. The thought of the old man hurt, but a meagre smile touched his lips at the thought of what he would say about Dun's current position. Something sharp, probably.

They'd taken him down into one of the cellars, cut out of the rocks below the keep sometime long past and forgotten. He hung upside down over a hole that led deeper into the interior of the rock. Deep down, judging by the moist chill that rose up from the dark void. The sides of the crevice slanted smoothly down, as if water had one flowed through it and rounded the sides.

The rope binding his ankles together was pulled through a ring in the ceiling, directly above the pit. The guards that hung him over the pit left a couple of counts of hundred ago. His blood accumulated in his head, making his ears pound. His sigh sounded like an unhealthy rasp.

He looked around the cellar. Most of it was too dark to see, leaving him the circle lit by the single torch in the wall. If he looked up, he could just see the orange firefly of the flame's reflection on the ring that held him up. His hands were left unbound, but they took the knife from his boot. He looked at the hole that was above and below him at the same time. If he managed to find something sharp enough to cut the rope, he still had to think of a way not to drop the-gods-knew-how-far down into the dark pit.

He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. There had to be a way out. After a while, the rats returned, their gleaming eyes studied what they hoped would be their next dinner.
The day it started

It all started some time earlier. One day at the end of winter, when the frost retreated for the first time, a short-lived herald of spring to come.

The track in the snow led toward the valley, leaving deep imprints where the snow lay thick in the hollows of the path. Only one horse was a good sign, but he approached with care, taking the high route along the cliff. Even if it wasn't one of the new lord's men, that didn't mean Vera waited for him. Anyone could have passed here in the long winter months and taken shelter against the sleet and winds.

On top of the ridge he halted, looking out over the expanse of snow crusted treetops that stretched into the distance in every direction. A bird up in the trees sang its heart out in the pale light of early morning. He couldn't see it, but when he pushed his way through the undergrowth too close for comfort, the musical tremor fell silent. "Be right out of your feathers, little one."

The sun climbed above the horizon and did its best to warm the air. A month of solid snows might still follow, but for now Dun sniffed the cold air and almost remembered what spring smelled like. Down in the dale was the cave where Vera and he spent many of their childhood summer days.

He hoped she would be there. The last time they spoke was at the beginning of winter, it felt like forever. But it was early in the year and that would make it hard for her to leave the keep without a detachment of guards. Hunger ruled men's minds and animals' stomachs long after the sun arrived and warmed the earth, a dangerous time for a lady to go out riding alone. And maybe she didn't want to come out and meet him. His face flushed remembering that afternoon last fall, when Solis and his men chased him from the village.

He lay down on his stomach and shuffled the last centimetres to look out over the dale beneath. The stone edge stuck out a ways into the air, giving him a good view of the land below. The stream that ran down the cliffs and through the valley reflected the sunlight in frozen twinkles that lit its bends. Only where it spouted out between the stone halfway up the cliff, did the water reach the surface in its liquid form. It ran fast and deep all the way down to the river, some way down in the main valley. In the silence he could make out a faint roar where the river plunged through the gorge. The white blanket that covered most of the world was undisturbed, save for the single track running down the low path into the dale and over the crest that hid the cavern from his sight. He made his way along the cliff to the other side of the waterfall, lowering himself from the last foothold.

Young for his height, he was tall enough that most men wouldn't be catching up with him, no matter how long they lived to try. Dun promised to be a real bear of a man and he already had the facial growth to go with it. Kept in check while he lived at Dungarr keep, now the ruddy fundamentals of a full beard adorned his chin and cheeks.

He approached the mouth of the cave, crouching down in the cover of the hollow that provided natural stabling for a horse or donkey. The horse droppings were at least a day old and the interior of the cave exuded the silence of emptiness. Both disappointed and more than a little curious, he stepped inside. Down the right side of the cavern the walls formed a natural chimney, leading the smoke through channels and crevices out into the rocks of the cliff. They tried to find where it exited, to see if the smoke led a trail back to them, but Dun had never found more than a faint whiff of wood smoke. As far as hiding places went, it was the best.

The ashes in the circle of stones were cold, but fresh enough to still hold sharp edges. Standing in the dark chamber, he looked around. Nothing out of place, beside the remains of the fire.

Or. There, at the edge of stones that ringed the fire, was an odd stone; cream coloured, with a grey seam curving across one side. Not a stone he'd choose to ring a fire. He knelt beside it. It looked clean, cleaner than the rest of the cave that was covered in a delicate layer of dust and soot. He poked it out from between the wall and its ash-stained neighbour, tossed it up and caught with his other hand. Just an ordinary rock. He almost missed the note in the dim.

The daylight outside showed the angular scribbles of Vera's handwriting. Her father, the former lord of the keep, let Dun to take lessons with his daughter and his effortless, smooth curls and even lettering frustrated her to no end. She threw an inkwell at his head only last summer. He smiled at the memory as he read the message.

Too dangerous to stay longer. Meet me the first day after the new moon.

Vera.

He frowned down at the paper. Willing it to tell him more, to show him all that passed this winter, but it was impervious to his glare. New moon would be with them only a couple of nights from now. He kept to in the horse's track as far as it went his way, wondering about the danger Vera mentioned. His fist clenched into anvils of flesh when he thought of Vera being mistreated.

The new lord of the keep was a stranger to these parts. A talented hireling from abroad, taken on to command the guard. He took over in the keep after Wolfour had taken ill and died, only months after his arrival. He seemed more than courteous toward his predecessor's daughter then, but a lot could have happened since he had his men throw Dun out of the gates. Dun crunched his teeth at the memory. He tried to save Wolfour, sitting up with him all through the night, administering all the herbs the old wizard in the woods taught him. Progressing from known cures to more and more obscure ones, as they all failed to lessen the man's cold fever and moans of pain. All of it no use in the end. The old keep holder had died screaming, clutching his gut in agony.

After the burning of the remains, Solis declared himself lord and Dun a useless herb peddler, tossing him out in the pre-winter cold. He might have frozen to death that first night, stunned by his predicament, if it hadn't been for the skinny old wizard. He'd simply shown up and patted Dun on the shoulder. I did think it was about time you became a full-time apprentice. They went back to his tiny house, deep down in the woods. Vera and Dun visited there many times before when they were younger, but the thought that he could go there hadn't even occurred to him. Now he lived there.

He reached the one-roomed house, not much more than a hut, built from hand-sized stones and broad beams of timber. It's one room served as library, study and kitchen in one, a cluttered mess that never failed to make him feel at home. A sleeping loft covered about a third of it, just big enough for the two of them to sleep comfortably. When he walked in, his arms full with a fresh load of firewood, the wizard looked up from his book.

"They do say everything from far away is better." He smiled at the logs on the youth's arm before he resumed reading.

"Vera was at the cave."

The wizard raised his head from its position over the page, to indicate that he was listening to what Dun said, not just reading. Living with the old wizard during the long winter season certainly taught him a lot about wood lore and magics, but the man would never be much of a conversationalist, especially when his nose was in one of the thick volumes. Dun didn't mind reading, but he did feel there should be more doing to magic, instead of just reading and thinking about it.

"She's in danger."

Now the wizard looked up, putting his finger down on the page.

"What?"

Dun handed over the piece of parchment, balancing the wood against his chest.

"Hmm... Maybe our new keep lord doesn't like his prize to wander. I would be very surprised if she were in any physical danger. At least for now."

"How do you mean?"

"You never wondered why our friend Solis threw you out of the keep?"

The wizard looked up at the tall youth, an amused smile pulled at the corners of his narrow lips.

"Because I couldn't save Wolfour. But I really -"

The old man's cackle interrupted Dun's stammering. He turned serious when he looked back up at Dun, still standing in the middle of the room, clutching the pile of firewood to his chest.

"There was nothing you could have done to save him. I seriously suspect Solis had him poisoned – " He held up a hand to stop Dun's confused outcry. "And even if you'd given him the antidote, there was little chance of him surviving long before meeting a dagger or something of the like, to finish the job."

"But... Then -"

Dun already had one foot out the door when the old man's voice stopped him.

"She's safe don't worry -"

"You don't know that!"

Dun tossed down the wood to highlight his frustration. The logs thudded on the packed earth floor, lifting the thin cover of rushes where they landed.

"Until Spring fest, I believe she's perfectly safe, if maybe not entirely comfortable at the prospect of marrying the man who murdered her father."

"What!? She'd never..." Dun faltered as he sat down on one of the rickety stools. It groaned under his weight.

"She's smart enough to at least pretend she will, if we're talking about the same girl," The wizard closed the book on the table in front of him with a sigh. "No, it's you I worry about."

"I'm not the one locked up in Dungarr."

"Try to keep it that way, my boy. That man's a petty little tyrant, and there are few things more dangerous to be around."
New moon

Darkness still reigned when Dun reached the edge of the valley. New moon made the night even darker still, but he could not wait for day to come.

He watched Vera from a distance, walking along the keep's crenelated walls for an afternoon stroll. A dot of bright blue, her favourite colour, against the slate of storm clouds fat with snow. It only served to make him ache for her more. The thought of the dark gloss of her hair and the rosebud shape of her lips kept popping into his mind.

The snow fell from the sky in thick clumps of crystal, hiding the world beyond twice his arm's reach. It would hide their tracks within an hour. In his mind he thanked Mother Winter for her assistance. The old wizard might be right to believe that Vera was safe until spring, but any risk to her was too much for Dun to bear. He briefly touched his chest, where Vera's note rested, safely tucked inside a wooden amulet.

In his pack he carried all the supplies he dared take from the wizard's stores. Vera would come on one of her horses, she might even have though to bring a spare, but he could walk as she rode. One of her necklaces alone would support them for a good while, once they reached the city. Images of the great island city of the Isles, glimpsed in the old wizard's books, rolled before his eyes. They would have to travel across the plains of Io to reach it, but once they did, the pleasures of city-life awaited them. They said the city never slept, that a man could walk an entire day in a straight line and not reach the end.

Bent over against the wind, he pulled his feet and legs through the resisting blanket of snow. He didn't see the horses, or the men, until it was too late. A voice from behind him called out.

"That's far enough," The edge of something hard poked his lower back. "Hands out to the sides, and drop that pack."

"That sounds like a difficult combination," Dun said, not moving a muscle and looking at the men standing around him. "What brings you to my valley?"

He knew three of the four men from when he still lived in the keep, the one on his left he didn't recognize.

"Our lorft's falley, piefe of filth," The man Dun didn't know spoke with a strong lisp and he suspected that he would have felt him speak, as much as heard him, if he stood any nearer. "Binf him."

The lisp jerked his chin toward the man in front of Dun, Jeddu. The dark-browed man frowned, but walked down the small rise toward Dun. He held up a rope.

"Sorry kid," He spoke so that only Dun could hear him. "Nothing I can do."

Dun gave a short nod and held his clenched hands out in front of him, the insides of his wrists touching each other. Jeddu bound him and took a step back.

"Now what?" He asked the man with the lisp.

"Now, fwe kill him." The lisp said with a grin that showed what was left of his teeth. He drew his sword out of its scabbard as he closed on Dun. With a sharp kick to the hollow of his knee, he forced Dun down on the ground. He brought his sword up over his head. Dun reached for the long knife on his hip. The rope cut into the skin of his wrists, straining to get to it. He leaned as far back as he could, to put as much distance as possible between himself and the blade that hovered above his head. The sword swung down, towards his neck.

Clang, skkkringg.

He rolled over his shoulder in a desperate attempt to get out of reach. When he looked up, he saw Jeddu and the lisp facing each other, swords locked.

"Since when do we cut down bound kids?"

Jeddu grunted with the effort of keeping his sword in position. The two other guards stood looking at the scene. One of them had his sword out of his scabbard, but kept it pointed at the ground.

"Lord's orders." The other man lisped, his gaze locked on Jeddu's. After a moment, Dun realized what he was doing.

"Jed... -"

Too late. The dagger in the lisping man's left hand stuck the soft flesh of his opponent's throat. Jeddu sagged to his knees. Then toppled slowly. He landed face-first into the snow. It covered his face, hiding his final expression of surprise.

For a moment the other guards stood, watching the red stain around their friend grow as blood got sucked into the snow. Then, with a double roar, they turned on the lisping man, hacking at him with their swords.

Dun rolled a short distance to get out underfoot, before he started sawing at his bonds. They used poor quality rope and he kept his dagger sharp, but it still took him several tries and a slice of skin to free himself. He snapped the final threads by force, then rose to his feet with his dagger ready to use.

The lisping man lay dead a short distance away, sword sticking up from his chest like a single porcupine pen. Next to him was the owner of that sword, also dead. He didn't see the last man, but a faint moaning rose up beyond in an abrupt break in the snow's surface. He must have fallen down into the creek bed. Dun approached the edge carefully, more weary of crumbling edges, than of the man crying below.

When he found a spot that would support his weight, he climbed down. It was clear the man down on the ice wasn't going to live past the day. He held his gut, trying to keep his insides in, but an inordinate amount of his blood was already freezing on the ice in a large circle.

"Here," Dune folded one of his scarves and put it between the man's head and the ice. "I'm afraid that's about all I can do for you."

After a moment, he unslung the pack that was still on his back and untied one of the blankets rolled on top. It was a good wool blanket, but he could do without. He spread it over the shivering man, tucking it in over his shoulders and around his feet.

"Y-you s-s-hould," The man grunted with the effort it cost him to speak and fell silent. Just when Dun got up to leave, he continued, seemingly without effort now. "Take the horses. Don't go back home, Silas know where it is. He will be there by no..-"

Dun frowned, reaching down to take the man by the shoulders and ask for further explanation, but as he bent over, he saw it was too late for that now. He pulled one of the corners, so the blanket covered the man's face.

The horses were tied in the entrance of the cave. They greeted him with their horse huffs and puffs. He didn't like horses, at least not to ride, and for a moment he was tempted to just cut them loose and go by foot.

He looked back toward the mouth of the valley, hoping against hope to see Vera ride down. The snow stopped sometime during their struggle. A distinct grey plume of forest on fire marred the clear sky. It came from the direction of the old man's house.

He was lucky patrol horses are used to poor riders. The one he picked, rode in the direction he wanted to go without complaint, if at its own chosen speed. Not as fast as Dun would have liked to go, but faster than he could have run himself. The other horses followed them out of the valley a moment later, confused, but preferring to stay together.

By the time they neared the wizard's cottage, the snows started to fall again, thicker and faster than before. When he reached the small clearing in front of the house, the snows had already doused most of the fire.

The house and the trees around it were reduced to their black skeletons. A stake stood in the middle of the clearing. Dun reached down to pick up the old man's ring from the ground beneath it. He looked at the smooth wood, soft against his skin as he turned it around between his fingers.

He couldn't make himself look up at his friend and teacher. He stared at the snow that fell on his feet as the tears froze on his cheeks. He didn't know how long he stood there, but at some point he sensed a presence in the clearing. He looked up to see a skinny rabbit hopping along the edge.

"Bit early in the year for you, little friend,"

He automatically checked the way it moved, to see if it might be hurt. The wizard treated woodland creatures when he found them ill or wounded, and they somehow seemed to know to seek him out for help.

A lot of them would be making that trip in vain the coming seasons. The thought of them, left without the help of the old man, chocked his throat. They lured him away from the house, and for what? So they could kill a kindly man that did nothing but help. He didn't understand how that could be any good to anyone.

The bunny sat on its hindquarters, looking at him curiously. He lowered his pack slowly, not to scare it, and pulled out a wrinkled, chubby parsnip. Crouching, he offered it to the rabbit. Its nose twitched with excitement, as it came forward in hesitant hops. When it bounded off with its prize, Dun could see its tail bobbing up and down, a white ghost dancing between the trees.

While he cut the slender figure down from the pole, his anger turned into something solid. He would make them pay for this, if he had to burn the entire world to do it.

He left the old man's swaddled body out on a large rock nearby for the animals to find. The wizard was a firm believer in circles, and now he would be part of another circle, provide the material for new life to start. The though made Dun feel a little better, but not much.

He went back to the burnt out shell of the house and dug at the edge of the grounds, where the kitchen garden would have been coming spring. An arm's length down in the frozen ground, he found the flat stone that covered what he was looking for. He took out a small parcel of oiled cloth and hid it down in his pack.

After he refilled the hole, he looked at the smouldering timber and cracked stones one last time. He would not be back here.
Spring fest

The snows had returned in full force and even now, one day before Spring fest, the last remains of a coat of snow clung to the trees. Dun approached the keep from the river's side. The sound of preparations for the fest floated down to the forest edge. The keep was on higher ground than the rest of the village that had grown up around it over the years. The houses straggled down the incline, like goslings running after a parent.

The large triangular body of the keep covered the top of the hill, just clear of the edge where the cliff fell steeply away. From where he stood, the wall added extra layers of stone and wood to the cliffs' height.

The river thundered past the keep. Its path eroded down through the cliff from long years of water running down. It was the best defensible position for leagues around. Dun felt a grin twist at the corners of his mouth upwards. It might be defensible against an army, but one man would enter easily. He intended to leave nothing more than an empty shell. A blown egg, testament to his vengeance. He wrapped himself closer in his cloak and settled in to watch and wait.

Spring fest morning came with the pale blue brightness that promised a cold but radiant day. Green and blue pennants were raised at the keeps three corners, the breeze just strong enough to lift their edges up in a gay flutter, but keeping the new lord's sigil hidden in the folds.

Stall holders were out and about and their voices carried down on the breeze in snatches. A little shy of midday, the market was in full swing and Dun strolled up. At least a hand taller than most of the people that thronged between the displays of goods and the tents of fortune tellers, he should have stuck out like a sore thumb. This was one of the first things the old wizard had noticed about him: Nobody noticed him.

At least, not unless he wanted them to. It wasn't magic in the ways of wizards, but a magic nonetheless. And the more people were there to ignore him, the stronger the illusion became. In a crowd like this, he was a good as invisible.

Dun recognized Filas behind one of the stalls that sold pies, walked around the cloth that covered the back and took the vendor's own lunch packet from the cart. It was bound to be better than the mystery-meat pastries the fat man was selling at the front. Dun sat on a fence rail to eat it.

A black-and-sand-coloured stray sidled up, wagging a bony tail. He scratched her ears, handing bites down while he ate. The apple core went to the scruffy horse that nuzzled his back.

He strolled past the stalls, on his way up to the three-sided fort. The gate was set into the wall where two of the sides met in a point. The creaking of iron against wooden rollers warned everyone that the portcullis was opening.

A gaunt youth appeared, dressed in the green and blue of Solis. He blew on a piece of metal pipe and in a voice that jumped up and down the tone scales, announced that that lord Solis was ready to give audience.

A cluster of people were waiting near the gate and they walked into the short tunnel that led inside. A number of people who had been browsing the stalls near the gates, went in after them. Too proud to be seen waiting, but wanting an audience, or to witness someone else's, nonetheless.

Dun followed them inside. A platform faced the gate, it was still in the shade, but in a couple of hours it would be lit by the sun. On it were two chairs. One large, one small. Solis sat in the largest, conferring with a hooded figure that stood at his shoulder.

Dun watched as people were called forward by the pale youth that had announced at the gate earlier.

All audiences seemed to follow the same pattern; Congratulations were offered and a gift was presented to celebrate the oncoming union between Solis and Wolfour's daughter. A rambling story explained the importance of the request to come. A boon was asked. The boon was granted, maybe in some revised manner.

After a while he ducked between the two men that guarded the door into the keep. A short flight of stairs led him to the end of the first floor hallway, where lord Wolfour had his study. Vera's rooms could be reached by the steps hidden behind a curtain that seemingly covered the bare stone wall next to the study door.

Dun looked around before he slipped behind the thick fabric. The hall was empty. At the top of the stairs he stood and listened. The rooms beyond were silent. Too silent. He frowned. There should be chatter of maids, music played while Vera got ready to go downstairs. Did they move her bedroom? Or maybe she fled by herself. If she did, the guards would find her within a day. He smiled. He would make sure they didn't. He opened the door just enough to slip his large body into the room. A gasp welcomed him.

"Dun..."

She didn't sound happy. It took a moment for his beaming mind to register this, but by then it was too late. A heavy hand dropped down on his shoulder as darkness fell over his face.

Solis lounged in Wolfour's study, his legs stretched on the antique wooden desk. Hunting scenes decorated the side panels, their carved edges rounded by time and a thousand cleaning cloths and oils.

"An intruder? At my party?"

He shook his head in a slow mockery of disappointment. Dun said nothing. The man made his skin crawl. In anyone else he might have admired the skill with which his hair was cut and oiled, the taste with which the expensive-looking doublet and shoes were chosen, the care with which the nails were manicured. On Solis, it made him shudder.

"Cat got your tongue?" Solis took his feet from the leather sheet that covered the desk and put them in front of his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Or should I say, dead wizard's got your tongue?"

He roared with laughter at his own joke. Dun waited for him to be done with his show, looking around the room looking for a way to escape, or at least something he could use to smash Solis' face in.

"You know, wizards running loose are dangerous," Solis got up from behind the desk and poked Dun's chest. It was level with his face, but the aura of unbalanced danger emanating from the shorter man prevented the gesture from looking ridiculous. Dun looked down at him and waited.

"But, no worries!" Solis grinned a grin wide enough to show a golden gleam where one of his molars used to be. "I have a good place to put you."
Wild magic

Back in the dank chill of the stone cellar, Dun swung back and forward. Small sways at first, getting larger as he gained momentum. He spread his large arms out to his sides, flapping them like wings on the rhythm of his moves.

Up on the surface, the day's activities tapered to an end. Only the stalls that sold food and drink still doing any business. In the keep, the servants bustled, carrying out plank tables, benches and other supplies for that evening's main event.

Boys ran up and down the field with the makings of a bonfire. It was piled in a marked area on the field next to the keep. The major domo stood nearby to keep a strict eye on it, making sure the pile didn't creep any closer to the vulnerable dry wood of the keep's upper stories.

A row of smaller cooking fires and grilling pits sat at the edge of the field, spreading an intoxicating aroma of wood smoke and roasting meat. The podium in the courtyard now stood on the field, this time draped with blue cloth and decorated with small spring flowers.

Under their feet, Dun thanked lady luck for small favours. Getting enough speed into his swing was hard work, but at least he was facing the right way.

Up, and down again. He stretched his fingers. Almost. Up again. This time he could feel his fingers glide over the metal of the wall sconce. And down again. He grimaced at the dark mouth of the hole below him, as he swung past it. It was easy to imagine falling into it. With a final grunt of effort, he swooped back up.

His fingers closed on the bracket. He pulled it straight out of the wall. The flaming heat of the torch burned his hands as he swung back over the pit. He couldn't drop it now. Thick blisters appeared on his fingers. He tried to get hold of a piece cool enough to hold, without dropping the fire down on the floor. It was his only chance to get out. He got a hold of the torch and gripped it tight.

The empty bracket clanged against the edge of the pit. Dun didn't hear it hit anything else on its journey down the hole. The struggle slowed his movement, but he was still swinging. The flame flickered in the rush of air that swooped past it as Dun swung forward. His chances weren't going to get better. As he started to move backwards again, he reached up toward his feet with a grunt.

He was probably going to set himself on fire, he just hoped to be free before the flames could do any real damage. He stretched the torch as far up above his feet as the length of wood would reach. He held the flame against the rope, keeping it as still as he could, against the pendulum of the rope and the trembling of his muscles.

With a reluctant hiss, the heat of the fire sett the damp rope to a smoulder. The ruddy edge of heat produced a snake of acrid smoke that turned into a thicker plume as Dun watched. The rope caught and tiny flames licked its surface in a quickly spreading pool. He fell back and relaxed his muscles. Then he took up his swinging again. Now he could only hope that the fire would burn through the rope before he turned into a human candle, and that he would land anywhere but in the pit when it did.

He did, but only just. While he pulled himself up from the dangerously rounded edge of the hole, he thanked whoever had been in charge when they appointed bodies to souls, for giving him strong and muscular arms. He pulled his legs up after him. A few swats ended the smouldering on his right boot. The hot leather stank like a tanning tub.

The thick stone walls of the cellar kept out the sound from outside, so he couldn't judge whether the festivities had started yet. It didn't matter much anyway. For his spell to be effective, the people only needed to be close enough to him, when he said the final words of the enchantment.

It was the first of five he found in the leather bound booklet the old wizard buried in the garden. Only figuring out how to open the book had taken weeks of his concentrated devotion.

He'd made camp in a tight cluster of trees, and he sat working it night after day, after night, not noticing that he shivered with cold. When he finally pried the layers of protection from the book, he understood why the wizards was so adamant that he shouldn't use any of the spells in it.

The words sizzled on the pages, lit up by light of a colour that no natural source would ever emulate. They burned in his mind, even now.

Everyone participated in the celebrations and most were already halfway drunk, their senses overwhelmed by the sudden abundance of food and drink after the meagre rations at the end of winter.

Some of the guards were sitting back in content stupor and he even saw one of them snoring peacefully, his face resting between plates on the table. He shook his head. After his capture, Solis must have discounted any chance of danger to let his men drop their vigilance like this.

Up on the dais, two bodyguards flanked Solis and Vera. They occasionally glanced to the side, but they focussed their attention on the plates in front of them. And, in the case of the guard on Vera's side, on the allures of female beauty.

She looked a blue flower in the grain. The fire turned everything into an orange backdrop to her pale beauty. She laughed, and Dun could feel the power of the spell dig its claws deeper into his mind.

He stepped into the open space in front of the dais. Vera's mouth opened in a perfect circle of surprise. Solis jumped up from his seat, kicking his chair back to make room. The guards both fumbled for their swords.

"Don't bother."

Dun opened his hands and raised them to his sides with the palms facing out.

"Sorcery didn't save the old man," Solis stepped up on the table and gestured to his guards. They tried to do as he wanted, but most had trouble standing up from their benches without falling down. "And it certainly won't save you."

Dun just smiled and lifted his hands over his head. Words blurted from his mouth as the spell gained momentum and squeezed itself from between his lips in a speeding avalanche. After a syllable or two, all he could hear were the thundering echo's that vibrated from the words of power. He couldn't have stopped speaking if he wanted to.

Then, silence. Followed by the faint gasps and exhaled breath of the hundreds of people in the field. The spell he chose – later he thought that maybe it had been the other way around, that it chose him - took away the will of those it was cast on. It seemed an appropriate punishment for those who followed Solis's orders without question. To be turned into an even more mindless version of themselves.

It worked. They lost their will, including the will to live, and stopped breathing. Scores and scores of bodies covered the field. Most still sat in their spots on the benches, sagging over the trestle tables and drooping down the sides.

Fear for Vera filled his mind as any poker of ice. He explicitly excluded her from his casting, but just the skirting edges of something as powerful as this could easily hurt her in some way.

He jumped up on the raised platform. Solis had dropped down on top of Vera and he could only see swatches of blue satin silk. He grabbed the short cape Solis affected and flung his limp body to the side.

Two pale blue eyes stared out at him from under the table, then they closed. It took a hart stopping eternity for them to open again from the slow blink.

She was alive.

A drop of saliva trailed down her lip. Refusing to let the thoughts that knocked, enter his mind, he lifted her up and sat her in a chair. She leaned heavily against the armrest, but sat more or less upright by herself.

He stood up and looked over the remains of Spring fest. He killed almost everyone he ever knew. The magnitude of what he did felt heavy, threatening to crush him into the ground. Then he felt cold fingertips paw feebly against his clenched fist.

Kneeling beside the chair, he took Vera's hand in his and kissed it gently. She needed to be taken care of, but there was something else he would have to do first, before they could leave this cursed place.

There was no way he was powerful enough to damage the book that held this spell, let alone destroy it. He trembled to think what the other, more ominous looking spells would do. Or this one, in the hands of a stronger wizard. He had no choice, he would have to hide it. Deep and far, where even he himself wouldn't be able to get at it.

After he carried Vera inside and wrapped her in the biggest fur blanket he could find, he hurried through the woods. Hoping, praying, that the leather bound book would still be where he left it.
The pit

Standing over the dark eye of the pit, he remembered how the wall sconce had clanged against the side once and then plunged soundlessly into the darkness below. A draft rose up from its depths and caressed his cheek.

He shuddered at the touch. Would it be enough? He held the book out over it. It seemed to think it might be. It felt sticky to his hand, and for a terrible moment he thought that when he let go, it would not.

The sound reminded him of wet fabric being torn loose. After an eternity, the book fell. It fell like a rock. Hard, fast, and straight down. He didn't hear it hit the bottom, but heard the echoes of the spells' outraged fury in his dreams for the rest of his life. And every time he woke, he was grateful for that moment of sanity that made him throw them down into the deep.

The huge bonfire that led the villagers up into their final dream burned all night. He had to draw Vera from the window to stop her from staring at it.

As soon as she could sit on a donkey, Dun packed as many supplies as he and the second donkey could carry. The spell killed all the horses in the stables, but the donkeys were stubborn as ever, but they didn't seem to mind leaving the keep either, and no-one looked back when they headed out for the planes of Io.

Sword in the City
In the City

The smell of countless people living close together in a damp place had a life of its own. It assaulted Mufroen's senses as they walked down the crowded streets, looking for a place where they could stay for a couple of nights.

People in the City of Isles were tall. Taller by at least half a head, the men gladly made way for the short warrior as he followed Rheena through the crowd. Mufroen's stance and the sword at his hip told them enough to be polite.

The dark braid down his back, the distinct tribe markings that edged what was left of his sunrobes and the pale blue of his sun-bleached eyes added the unspoken warning that he came from the far lands of the high desert. Few ventured there and even fewer returned, but when they did, they told stories about the warrior tribes that lived far out on the inhospitable sands.

"We have bedding in the stables for your man," The chubby innkeeper made sure not to look at Mufroen as he spoke, but he was all bows and smiles for Rheena. "And meals in the kitchen -"

"He stays with me," She placed a hand on the man's arm in a gesture of confidentiality. "Also for dinner. I'm sure you understand, a woman alone..."

"Of course, my lady. As you please." If it hadn't been for his copious belly, the man would have bent double with the force with which he bowed agreement to Rheena's wishes. She didn't seem to notice, but Mufroen thought he heard a snort come from his hip. When he looked down, the sword was still.

He couldn't say he disagreed with the sentiment, he had to bite his lips a couple of times already that day. His presence convinced the keeper of every inn and tavern they visited that Rheena was a Lady. You could see the hospitality get turned up as they took in her appearance, then added that of the warrior behind her and concluded she must be Somebody. He had to admit the polite attitude was nice, but he suspected the prices rose accordingly. Rheena seemed close to making a deal with this one though, so he went to stand outside in the hallway.

The room was on the top floor of the three-storey tavern, right above the entrance. A flight of stairs connected it to the common room. The only other door in the passage opened to a minute storage closet holding a solitary broom and bucket. Slivers of daylight fell through a narrow window, dancing with the dust motes before forming a pattern of crooked squares on the plank floor. It looked out on the dirty fronts of buildings across the street, most taverns and inns like the one they were in.

"Overlooking the city's taverns and bars, that'll do wonders for our beauty sleep." The sword said in a low voice.

Mufroen thought it was a wonder anyone could sleep at all in this city, filled with a thousand noises and smells, but he kept silent as the innkeeper bowed his way out of the room and into the hall. He said something pleasant to Rheena with a greasy smile. When he trotted down the stairs, Mufroen stepped into the room with a deep bow and a flourish of his mantle.

"May I disturb The Lady, my lady?"

She threw one of the two large pillows on the bed at him with a laugh.

"Your fault, with your menacing glower."

"I most certainly do not glower," He crossed the room to look out on the street again. Irregular shards of coloured glass depicted what he guessed was the inn's weapon. It kept him from seeing more than vague shapes on the other side. "My face is just not made for all that movement you put into it." She made a face at him that seemed to move about all the muscles she had, before she reached out and drew him into the bed.
Job for a sword

As he tore a piece from the coarse bread that came with the meat and bean stew, Mufroen took his time to look around the common room.

The bar was built against and partly into the wall left of the entrance. Behind it, the innkeeper was filling mugs and cups with beer and wine. A large table with benches along the sides took up most of the room. About two dozen people sat at it in clumps of two and three, eating and drinking.

A row of smaller tables lined up against the wall opposite the bar. A long bench covered with faded pillows provided seats on the side of the wall, rickety chairs faced it at all of the seven tables.

Mufroen sat at last table, the farthest he could sit from the door and the bar, a good place to keep an eye on the door next to the bar that led to their room. Rheena was still up there, washing and changing.

Only one of the other small tables was occupied, the one at the other end, near the door. The man sitting at it must have been strong as an ox when he was younger. He still had the raw-boned frame and broad shoulders, but the roundness of his stomach suggested too many nights spent drinking too many drinks and his skin had a greyish, waxy gleam. He pretended to stare into his cup, but Mufroen couldn't help notice that he kept a sharp eye on the door and everything that happened inside the tavern.

A tremor at his hip warned him before the man moved. Mufroen rose from his chair as the other man started to get up. They looked at each other for a moment, then the big man grinned, showing a dark hole where one of his front teeth used to be.

"Good reflexes." He said, stepping up to a respectful distance and offering his hand. Mufroen shook it, and as he expected he felt the tell-tale calloused ridges of a swordsman.

"Jan," The big man said, pointing at the table next to Mufroen with a question on his face.

"Mufroen." He said, sitting back down on the bench with a gesture that Jan was welcome to join him. Jan dropped his weight down heavily on the bench next to him, scanning the room as he did.

"Waiting for someone?" Mufroen asked, pushing his empty bowl away.

"Was," Jan smiled, less heartfelt than before. "Looks like I'm being stood up, don't it." He threw Mufroen a sideways glance. "Got a job needs doing."

"Hmm..?"

The man had the unmistakable air of desperation and Mufroen doubted he had anything on offer he'd want to be doing. But he was a fellow swordsman and in any case it couldn't hurt to hear him out. Especially since the room had cost them almost all the money in Rheena's purse.

"Need some muscle tonight," Jan held up two fingers at the landlord for drinks. "Dangerous job, but just protection." He waited until the landlord left their tables and produced a small leather purse. He tossed it from hand to hand, looking at it with a serious expression. Mufroen could hear the muffled sound of coins clicking against each other.

"Five silvers in advance," The man dropped the purse on the table and prodded it toward Mufroen. "Double that tomorrow morning, if you make sure I make it through the night in one piece."

Mufroen looked up from his drink in surprise.

"You need a bodyguard?"

"Not sure," The big man sighed in his cup before he downed the content. "Been told to meet someone. Has that feel, you know..."

Mufroen thought he knew exactly what the other man meant.

Rheena stepped through the door next to the bar. When she saw that he was talking, she sat down at the bar to give them privacy, but Jan noticed Mufroen's glance in her direction and got up to leave.

"Worst case, you have five silvers to spend on a pretty girl," He indicated the bar with a tilt of his head.

"Difficult when I'm dead." Mufroen pointed out.

"You're from out in the high desert aren't you?" Jan pursed his lips in an amused expression. "Knew someone from up there," He turned to Mufroen, really smiling now. "If you're half as good, I'm not worried."

A laugh escaped Mufroen's throat. "I wouldn't know about that, but you make a convincing argument. Where should I meet you?"

The sword at his side vibrated in an annoyed tremor.

"The warehouse behind The Duck at sundown. It's on the western edge of the harbour. Anyone there can point you to it." With that he handed him the purse and slipped through the side door to kitchen.

"Glad to see it's not hard to sucker you into doing something stupid." The sword said. Mufroen waited for Rheena to join them before he answered. She sat on the chair across from him with a curious expression.

"Five silvers is a lot of money," He took a sip from his cup while the innkeeper served Rheena her lunch. "Fifteen's even more."

"You'll never get those last ten, and you'll be lucky to keep the five. You do understand that much, I hope?" The sword said.

"That _is_ a lot of money." Rheena said.

"At the risk of stating the obvious: It's too much money." The sword added.

"Don't worry, I noticed that he parted with those silvers a bit too easily. Then again, money means little when you're scared for your life."

"So, you're doing it from the kindness of your heart now, is that is?" The sword snorted.

"We need money. This way we have at least five silvers."

"And what is Rheena supposed to do with those? Pay for a nice ceremony down at the harbour?"

"Are you saying we're no match for that wash-out and his friends?" Mufroen glanced down at his hip, waiting for the sword to rise to the bait.

"Of course we are. In a straight up fight," The sword bristled. "But chances are, they jump us and give us a little swimming lesson. With a rock tied to your hands, in case you have water fright."

"Well, I would get the diving lesson. You'd just have to get used hanging on another belt."

" _What?_ " The thought obviously hadn't occurred to the sword. Hearing the horror in his voice, Mufroen felt sorry for the jibe.

"Just joking," He reached down and patted the sword's hilt. "I'll throw you in the water myself, if there's any risk they'll get you."

"And leave me to an eternity in a watery grave? You—"

"Stop teasing him, he might hit you over the head next time you draw him," Rheena sounded only half amused by their bickering. "And you," She bent a fraction so she could look past the edge of the table. "Don't listen to him, he'd lay waste to the city before he'd let anyone take you from him," She turned back to Mufroen again. "I see how you look at him, so stop pretending you don't care. It's not becoming."

She sounded so prim that both Mufroen and the sword laughed. Luckily all the other guests in the tavern were too preoccupied to notice that Rheena had a remarkably heavy laugh for such a petite woman.
All in a night's work

"I still say it's a bad idea," Mufroen found the harbour without difficulty and after asking directions to the bar, they now stood in an alley across from The Duck. On the other side a cramped passage led away. The sword still moped. "We could just not go?"

"I'm pretty sure Jan will want his money back if we do that, plus interest. Besides, he's counting on me to help him."

"We could move inns?"

"How many desert tribesmen are there in the city, you think?" He cocked an eyebrow down at the sword. "We need the money, and I don't mind giving Jan a hand if he's really in trouble."

"Let me guess, he tickled you hero-nerve," The sword sighed with a defeated sound. "To boot, you're probably right. He did look like he could use a hand.

Nobody went in or out of the passage while Mufroen watched. After a few minutes he crossed the street, stepping in a layer of decaying litter that squelched under his feet. The alley looked like it doubled as a dump for the entire neighbourhood. Piles of crates, broken chairs and less definable waste provided cover as he made his way down the alley. At the end, a lopsided door led into a wooden building several storeys high. There were no windows, but yellow slivers of light escaped into the dim between the rough wood of the door and the lintel.

He sidled up to the door, trying to squelch as little as he could and took a peek through one of the cracks. A single lamp stood on a crate in a large room. The light was low, but he could just make out several piles of stacked boxes and a row of large vats lying on their side against the back wall.

That afternoon he'd decided that it would be better to be early than late for this appointment and the last orange light of the sun still coloured the sky visible above the roofs, but it seemed everyone involved had the same idea.

Two men held Jan up against one of the vats while a third punched him in the stomach at regular intervals. Mufroen stepped inside, his boots soundless on the plank floor. The three men were armed with swords and knives, but they were too busy to notice him as he walked up. Seeing their sloppiness, he assumed that they faced general incompetence. He should have known better. There was a fourth man, hidden near the entrance. Years of training ensured that Mufroen's left hand rested on the dagger on his belt and it was the only reason he got it up in time. Just in time.

He blocked the cudgel's debilitating swing to his temple. The impact numbed his fingers and the knife dropped to the floor. There was a second blade in his boot, but he didn't trust his grip to hold it. He flexed the fingers to bring back some of the life while he backed away, drawing the sword.

The fourth man was on top of a pile of crates to his left, ready to jump at him. The sight of the sword of the sands unfolding invariably had the same effect. The man froze and stared in awe. It gave Mufroen ample time to get into an advantageous position.

The sword coming out of its sheath was an impressive sight. The blade more than doubled in size, easily two-thirds Mufroen's own length, shimmering white like lightning.

Mufroen stepped back beside the crate as the other man got his senses together and swung at him with his short sword. It was a clumsy thrust, leaving his chest open to Mufroen's counter. He went down with no more than a gurgle.

His estimate of the first three men as violent and incompetent turned out to be correct. The first two charged him simultaneously, thinking this gave them an advantage, but they only got in each other's way.

A quick slash unhanded the one that came in on his right. He crawled away howling, holding the stump where his arm now ended in a bloody spray. The second swordsman glanced at something in the shadows behind him before he charged. This one was more skilled than his two companions, but the long blade gave Mufroen a distinct advantage. He disarmed the other man with a flick of his sword's tip before he smacked him unconscious with the pommel.

The last of the threesome still held Jan up, listing dangerously to the side now that there was only one man to hold his bulk up. Before the trembling man could decide to drop Jan and make a run for it, a fifth man stepped out of the shadows.

"That's enough," He didn't make a sound as he dropped down from somewhere and Mufroen couldn't help being impressed. "Quite the show," He nodded at the lighting blade in his hands. "You can put that away now."

"Yeah," Mufroen bared his teeth. "You seem to be trying to kill me, so I don't think so."

The other man pursed his lips. "Fair enough." He stepped into the light, showing the palms of his hands. A charcoal cape hung on slender shoulders. He dropped his hood, showing a mouse-coloured patch of hair above the sharp lines of his face.

"Give us the box, and you can both walk away." He grinned like he just thought of something funny, baring a set of long, yellow teeth. "Silly. You obviously don't have it on you," He waggled a slender finger in Mufroen's direction. "So tell us where it is, we go get it, and then you walk away."

"What box would that be?" Mufroen asked, sheathing the sword after all. It made a sharp hissing sound as it shrank into the scabbard. The other man's eyebrow twitched at the sound.

"The box," He held out his hands slightly wider than his chest. "Wood. He stole it." He pointed back at the limp shape of Jan, who was painfully climbing to his feet after the man holding him up released him. "Remember?"

"I don't think I like this one's tone," The sword said, sounding like a schoolmarm. "If he lost his box and wants us to help find it, the least he could do is ask nicely. And offer us a reward, like a decent thug. At least Jan paid us."

Mufroen would have preferred to keep some of the Swords' qualities secret, but the baffled look on the other man's face was almost worth the inconvenience. Mufroen nodded down at his hip.

"He has a point."

"Hmm," The other man shrugged, his surprise already hidden under a placid expression. He stepped up so that their faces were almost touching. "Jan paid you to do what?"

"Just for a helpful hand," Mufroen shrugged. "So if he can't tell you where it is, I certainly can't."

"You better not be lying—" The other man gestured something at the only swordsman still standing, then stepped back into the shadows, soundless as before. When Mufroen looked back, the third swordsman was also gone, taking his unconscious comrade and leaving him with two bodies and Jan.

"I don't want to say I told you so, but—" The sword started.

"Let's give him a hand," He stepped to Jan, helping him sit up. He discovered a hipflask on his belt and as Mufroen suspected, it held eye-watering liquor.

"They sent him?" Jan blinked at his first swallow, then quickly took another. Sitting up by himself now, he ran a hand over his face with a sucking breath, wincing when he touched his bruised mouth. He scrambled to get up and away. "I need to warn the others."

"Night's not over, so either you pay me or I'm coming with you."

It was not hard to keep Jan from leaving. He was still more than a little shaken from his beating and Mufroen had yet to lose an arm wrestling match.

"Come then, they'll have the money."

Jan's desperation to warn whoever it was he worked with was painfully obvious.

"Let's," He shouldered Jan. "Before they decide to come back to ask you some more questions."

"Ahem..." The sword cleared his throat.

"Yes?" Mufroen said expectantly.

"Well, I hate to point this out while the two of you seem to be having such a good time, but don't you think they let him go so they could see where he goes?"

"He's right," Mufroen looked at Jan with a frown. "There a way to lose them?"

"I can't believe they sent Kazir." Jan said in a small voice, ignoring Mufroen's question.

"Who?"

"The Path—"

"That doesn't mean anything to me, what's the path?"

"They run most of the city, the underground parts at least. They have some sway with the guard too, almost never get bothered. But," He turned with a pleading hand on Mufroen's shoulder. "They're dangerous. And many. Our only chance is to get my friends and get out of the city. _Now_."

Mufroen set off, still half-carrying the older man. "If they're so dangerous, why did you steal their box?" He asked after a while.

"I, I – I'm just stupid I guess," Jan shrugged, a defeated gesture. "It seemed like a fool proof plan at the time. I've worked for them for years, they trusted me. When I had time to think, it was too late. Besides, I couldn't let my mates down."

"So, you and your friends got drunk one night and decided to rob your boss? That doesn't sound like a winner."

"Well, I'm getting old and it's not like they are going to let me retire," He shrugged again, but he was getting wrapped up in telling his story. "So we figured, steal one big score, sell it, get out of the city. Only I got the feeling they didn't believe the story. They kept asking me weird questions, you know. And then our buyer didn't show. We can't sell it outside the city, so we're stuck here. Next thing I know, they call me here tonight. That told me about all I needed to know, but I thought maybe I can convince 'em, buy us some time, you know? Stupid idea, we should have just run." He chuckled. "Guess maybe it really is time I get out the game."

After walking in silence for a while, Jan stopped.

"We're going in here," He nodded to a dark lane between two houses. They'd gotten deep into one of the more unsavoury districts of the city: The houses were in a state of serious disrepair, but the shutters looked sturdy. Mufroen could feel more than one pair of eyes watching them as they stood in the street. It was a gamble. If Jan and his friends meant him harm, he might have a hard time getting out of here. "I am real sorry for all this." Jan looked miserable. "We'll get you your money."

No light penetrated between the rows of houses to light their path. He could just make out the large man walking in front of him, a darker shape against the shadows. A gate creaked as they went through. The path turned to gravel, crunching under their feet. A well-oiled door opened and Mufroen found himself blinking against the light of two torches set against the walls to the sides of the door.

The room was rectangular and narrow, like a tunnel, and he could see two doors beside the one they used, set into the narrow sides to his left and his right. Two men, a couple of years past their prime, looked up in alarm, the card game on the crate between them forgotten. The one farthest from the door reached down to his belt with reflexes honed by years of living on the edge. His cheeks were sunken with age, but his shoulders were still broad and his arms lined with ropes of muscle. Jan stepped between them before the knife in the other man's hand could be a threat.

"He's a friend."

The other man was as short as Mufroen, skinny to the point of emaciation and pale enough to be a ghost. He stood up with a wobble, offering Mufroen his hand.

"Alvin." Soft skin touched his sword-hardened hand. Definitely not a swordsman. Ink stained his two first fingers, so probably a scribe.

What was a scribe doing with these two hardened thugs?

"And this is Veel." He tilted his head to indicate the man with the knife. He'd put it back on his belt, but he was still scowling at Mufroen.

"What's he doing here? I'm not splitting this bounty."

"He saved me," Jan made a deflated sound. "They sent Kazir."

Both Veel and Alvin blanched. To Mufroen's surprise the skinny scribe was the first to recover.

"We need to leave. Now." He pointed at Mufroen while he started to throw things into a rough leather bag. "How much do we owe him?"

"Fif-"

"Ten silvers." Mufroen said.

"Alright," Alvin dug up a small wooden box carved with dragons and painted in exotic greens and blues, took out a cloth purse and tossed it to him. Mufroen plucked it out of the air. "This should cover it."

"That the box?"

Jan and Veel laughed, too loud to sound natural, Alvin just grinned and shook his head.

"It's not here."

They hid it somewhere, that made sense. He opened his mouth to ask what was in the box that was so special.

An arrow stopped him short.

It's tail flashed white as it pierced Jan's eye, killing him before his body hit the ground. Mufroen dropped to the floor. Alvin dove for Jan, but Veel's howl showed he already realized his friend was dead. Sorrow twisted the sound in to something awful.

"Out!" Alvin shooed him toward the door behind him. "That way."
On the run

Mufroen tore the door open.

He stepped into a covered walkway. The ceiling was low enough that Veel had to duck his head when he followed Alvin inside.

"Left!"

The turn led them to a dead end with a single door. Mufroen reached for the latch, but Alvin stopped him before he could open it.

"Not that way," He pointed to their feet. For a moment he didn't see what the thin scribe wanted. The he saw it. A grip was hidden against the wall. He pulled and part of the floor lifted. The hole was pitch black and smelled of dead things in water.

"Come on, they'll be here soon," Veel stepped into the hole and disappeared. "Quick!" his voice sounded far away.

Stepping in, Mufroen discovered hollows in the wall for his hands and feet. Alvin almost stepped on his head in his hurry to close the trapdoor. The darkness was complete once it closed and Mufroen made his way down the steps in the wall by touch until Veel put a hand on his back to indicate he'd arrived. He could hear the dripping and rushing of water, but his feet were dry, standing on slippery stone.

"You're on a ledge," Veel reached back for his hand, placing it on his belt. "It leads out into the bay. If you fall in, they'll be dragging your body out of the water in the morning, so watch your step."

Veel lit a candle, placing it in a holder he held above his head. The three of them shuffled along the ledge. The tiny flame didn't show much, but the meagre light was enough to show the steep drop next to the ridge. The water roared.

The swishing of their feet on the wet stone reminded him of another time he'd walked in the dark. He felt behind him to make sure Alvin's hand still held his belt.

Veel held the candle up to the pale symbols on the wall. They were a map of some kind, telling anyone who could read them where they were.

Once they were far enough down the tunnels and sure that they weren't being followed, Alvin told him about the tunnels. He had a warm voice, made for telling stories and to Mufroen it was like listening to a fairy tale

The tunnels ran under the entire city like a maze. Not all of them were as big as the old main line they were following now, but most were big enough for a man to make his way through without too much trouble.

"The Path knows they exist," A sound like a shrug. "They use some of them, but only a fraction. I found maps down in the old library, they come in handy. Some of the tunnels deeper down actually run under the bay."

"You put those signs up on the walls?" He imagined the scribe coming down here in his free hours to paint instructions on the walls. Alvin's giggle echoed in the dark.

"No, no. They were put up by whoever built them. Some have a different system. Some don't have them at all. The Path marks the ones they use with blue. These," He sounded pleased. "These, are ancient."

Hours later, they came up out of the tunnels in a small cove. At Alvin's request Mufroen stayed while he and Veel discussed something just out of earshot. He stood looking out over the expanse of water, waiting for them to finish. The sun was coming up, painting the city in layers of orange.

"We want to hire your services again," The scribe was holding his satchel under his arm, the other hand played with the leather strap. "We have some coin left for an advance, we can pay you the rest after we sell the box," He let his breath escape noisily through his nose. "It will be dangerous though. They saw your face, so you might be better off leaving the city." Mufroen wondered whether this had been Alvin's idea, he thought that it was, and if the scribe secretly hoped he would decline.

"On one condition," The scribed looked up with the interest that he seemed to show for everything. "I want to know what's in the box," He thought a moment. "And why the Path wants it so bad."

Alvin chuckled.

"Curiosity is a dangerous trait," He said, tapping his lips. "The first question's easy. The box is said to contain a ceremonial dagger of great power." He sat on a large boulder and patted it for Mufroen to sit next to him.

"I'm not entirely sure why The Path wants to have it so badly, but it's worth a lot of money," He had the bright blue eyes that many of the city dwellers had. Now he used them to weigh Mufroen's reaction to what he said.

Mufroen furrowed his brow. It seemed like a poor reason for the show he'd seen so far. If the path controlled the black markets, they must have coin to spare. The loss of a valuable object would only warrant this kind of response if there was something else.

Alvin smiled.

"I think they need it for something. Some big plan. I worked for them almost all my life," He pursed his mouth like he tasted something foul. "So I'm quite sure whatever it is, it's unpleasant. And there might also be the tiny matter where they were betrayed by some of their oldest employees. Revenge is always a thing."

Mufroen found he liked the timid man next to him, chuckling about the fact that from today on every thug and backhand dealer would be looking for them.

Veel had enough of waiting, approaching the rock with the swinging, wide-shouldered gait of a fighter.

"Told you he wouldn't—"

"O, I'll do it," Mufroen smiled at the man's obvious attempt at manipulation. "Tell me where to find this box and where it needs to go."

Shouts sounded from the adjacent cove.

Both men looked up in alarm, sharing a look.

"We need to get going," Alvin thrust a folded piece of bleached leather into Mufroen's hand. "We'll lure them out into the woods," He nodded to the treeline that hugged the shallow inlet. "You get back in the tunnel."

Even knowing which symbols to follow, it took him almost to midday to reach one of the outlets in the harbour.

"Just my bloody luck to wind up with a wielder who can't read," The sword had been shocked when Mufroen confessed that he couldn't make sense of the rows of squiggles on the square of soft leather. "How do you get on in life without reading? Order food? Buy supplies?"

"I can count, 'till now was all I needed," They were walking down a crowded street on their way back to their inn. "Don't worry, Rheena can read it."

"I can read it for you," The sword huffed. "That's not the point. It's about the principle of the thing."

"That's just what people say when they want to argue," He gave the hilt a companionable squeeze. "And I think we have enough on our hands to save that discussion for a quiet night."

The dark shape in their room turned so fast that Mufroen barely had time to reach for his weapon. He braced himself against the cold touch of the knife he saw gleaming in its hand.

Instead, he got a hug.

"Thank the goddess," Rheena swung herself into his arms, her golden hair spilling from under the hood. "I was ready to come looking for you, I was worried."

After a moment he loosened her hold on his neck, taking in her outfit. A wide belt of hardened leather hugged her middle, leading down to a point between her hips. A collar of the same leather covered her neck and the top of her shoulders. Matching bands on each upper leg covered the soft spots there. It would easily deflect a knife-thrust or -throw to any of the main arteries.

The sections between the leather were made from a dark, supple material that would allow easy movement. Her cape had a deep hood that would hide her features behind the murky brown and grey of the fabric. It was assassin's wear if he ever saw it.

"I'm starting to seriously wonder about your life before you came to the high desert."

"I could tell you," Her ice-blue eyes sparkled with amusement. "But I'd have to kill you."

"Yeah, you keep saying that," He pulled her close, breathing in her smell. "But now I'm starting to believe you."

She laughed, pulling out of his embrace and making the dagger disappear in a flash too fast for him to be sure where it went.

"Ahem."

"Sorry," Rheena said with a grin at his hip. "I'm glad to see you too."

"That's all lovely, but we have more urgent matters at hand."

Mufroen still clutched the sheet of instructions, he handed them over to Rheena.

"We had an interesting night," He pointed at the note. "Got some new work out of it, and I was kind of hoping you would tell me what it says." He tried not to be offended by the look she shared with the sword.

After a moment mouthing words in silence, she burst out laughing. He raised one of his dark eyebrows, waiting for her to share the merriment.

"Let me see that," She held the text open for sword to read. "Ah... That is going to be tricky, yes."

"Anyone care to tell me?" Mufroen asked, rocking on the balls of his feet to express his impatience to know what it was that he would have to do.

"Wouldn't it be nice if you could read it for yourself?" The sword asked sweetly.

"Whoever thought this up is smart," Rheena folded the leather closed and tapped his chest with it. "And completely insane. It can't be done."
Getting the box

The City's keep was part of the ancient bulwark that still enclosed the oldest parts of the city. Other than this part, the outer walls had been rebuilt every time the city grew out of its skin, leaving a pattern much like tree rings in the city's architecture.

The keep was still in use and kept in good repair. The large fortress was an impressive sight with walls easily twice as high as the ones that ringed the city. Spear tips moving above the crenulations at regular intervals were all Mufroen could see of the guards patrolling.

"I'm glad we're taking the alternative route, you could hold this fort forever." He said. They stood a distance from the walls, in the shade of one of the large mulberries that lined the boulevard to this side of the keep. His arms crossed loosely over his chest, he looked up at the monstrous building.

"Well, not if whoever's attacking knows what kind of Lexian cheese this city's apparently built on," The sword harrumphed. "It's a miracle this keep isn't robbed on a daily basis."

"Somehow, I doubt getting in is going to be all that easy," He cocked an eyebrow down at his hip.

"Well," Rheena sounded distracted, pulled from studying the keep and into their conversation. "Most places have one or two unguarded entrances, simply because no one knows about them. Or, because everyone knows about them." Her lips pulled up in a broad smile, leaving dimples in her cheeks.

He smiled at her good cheer, and certainly did not ask how she would know something like that. Their little encounter earlier, when she almost speared him on her knife when he walked in the room, led him to reconsider what he thought he knew about her.

He glanced sideways at the warrior-outfit she was wearing. If he didn't know better, he might mistake her for a Silizian. Their women were infamous, rumoured to be able to match any man in a fight, but he was pretty sure the story also told that they were dark as the night, not blonde and cream like the woman beside him.

"They put the box in the vault, next to the jewels, gold and the gods-know what kinds of other treasures," He resumed his conversation with the sword. "They might lock those behind more than a token door, don't you think?"

"Pessimist."

"Realist. Never let me down yet."

The sword snorted.

"Boys," Rheena's chuckle was rich with amusement and the thrill of anticipation. "Save it for inside?"

Despite the obvious objection of predictability, they decided to wait until dark. It was unlikely anyone at the keep noticed that a box had been added to their collection, so they certainly wouldn't be expecting anyone to come for it. At least, that was the idea.

"Please, let's not get lost down here, all this damp makes my blade itch."

"Don't worry about your blade, I'll oil it down once we're back at the inn," Mufroen said in a low voice. "Just keep your eye on those little snakes," He pointed at the sign on the wall that looked like a loose coil.

They'd gone back into the vast tunnel system under the city at the entrance the instructions described. The grate lifted out of the wall easily, its edges freshly oiled, probably when someone came this way to stow the box. Now they made their way through the damp, cavernous tunnels.

Rheena looked about as uncomfortable as he felt, glancing over her shoulder every second step. The sound of their feet against the stones echoed away in waves, making it sound like a shadow army was following at their heels.

The small circles of light coming from their lamps did little to illuminate their surroundings and after a short while, in silent agreement, they doused their flames. It didn't take long for his eyes to get used to the low light, enough to distinguish their path and the outlines of the walls, darker shadows in the murk.

"Looks like this is it," Rheena whispered, peering down at the scrap of leather in her hands, then up at the signs on the wall. "This should lead us right up to the vault."

Mufroen loosened the sword in his scabbard, then positioned himself to push up the heavy plate covering the tunnel entrance and see where it led them. Only a few centimetres at first, ready to let it drop back, silently, if he spotted anyone near.

The hallway was empty.

He reached down to give Rheena a hand, but she already pulled herself out. Quickly, they slid the cover back over the hole to hide their entrance. A shred of red silk between the plate and its frame marked it for their return route. Except for the piece of cloth, it looked exactly like any of the other tiles that covered the floor. How many other entrances were hidden in the keep's floors?

Rheena's cape made her almost invisible in the shadows and he had to look twice to find her, a solid shadow at the entrance to the short cul-de-sac they were in. He joined her as she beckoned. The corridor was deserted, lit by sparse candles set in one wall. In the opposite wall he could see several dark rectangles, either doorways or corridors branching off. Rheena tugged his sleeve.

"This way."

She walked silently and fast, without seeming to hurry. If they met anyone, they might not even notice that she was not supposed to be there, she looked so natural. He imitated her, ignoring the sword's repressed snigger.

Rheena halted by a narrow stairwell leading up. She listened for a few moments before she started up. He could see the glint of the knife in her hand.

They made their way to another corridor, identical to the one before. They could hear the sound of voices coming closer, forcing them to wait at the top of the stairs. The shadows hid them, but the two armed guards come down the hall, walking in a bubble of bright light from their torches.

The light would blind them to anything in the shadows, but if either one of them happened to look into the stairwell at the moment it was inside the illuminated circle, they were sure to see them. It was too late to head back down, movement would alarm them for sure. Mufroen slowed his breath and bent his head forward, so that he could see what was happening in the hall from under his brows, without the gleam of his eyes give them away. Rheena crouched down low, too low to be spotted immediately if anyone glanced at them, but ready to jump out.

He could feel the slow, heavy thud of his heart. The edge of the light crept over the floor towards them.

The two guards were speaking in some heavy dialect that he couldn't understand, but they seemed relaxed, not aware of the two figures hiding an arm's length away. They would almost certainly raise an alarm as soon as they saw them, so he ran through ways of silencing both of them before they could shout. Rheena's knife could take one down, he'd seen her knock birds out of the sky with a pebble, that left the other for him. Holding his breath, he waited for a surprised inhalation by one of the guards. It didn't come. They passed, immersed in their conversation. He let out a sigh of relief.

"I could have taken them both, if—"

"Yes sword," He hissed under his breath. "We know."

"Quiet, both of you," She held out her hand in a gesture that commanded silence, easing herself against the wall to look out. "Come on." She disappeared around the corner. Mufroen frowned at his hip before he stepped out to follow. There were upsides to having a magic sword, but most of the time it just talked too much and at inappropriate moments.

When he caught up, Rheena was already working on the lock. The door was plain but sturdy wood, reinforced with broad metal bands at the top, middle and bottom. She worked with two slender devices, poking and prodding into the keyhole.

Something clicked.

She rose to her feet when the door swung back. He could see the triumph on her face drop, turn into shock, and then horror.

It was the silent man. Kazir. In his hands he held the box.

"How..?" More words refused to come out of Mufroen's mouth as the implications rolled through his mind. Was there another set of instructions? No, Alvin said it was the only one—

Alvin and Veel. They must have caught them after he went back into the city through the tunnels. Silent dread crept up and rested in his stomach like a lodestone.

Kazir grinned an unpleasant smile.

"I see you catch on quick," He said to Mufroen, then turned to Rheena who was still frozen in her half-crouch. "But you. That is a surprise," He tilted his head, only marginally, but it reminded Mufroen of a snake, ready to strike.

"Run!" He threw himself between Rheena and Kazir, pushing her up and out into the hall as he moved. His shout seemed to wake her up and he could hear the soft sound of her feet as she fled down the hall. The other man already managed to slip to his side, but Mufroen's foot caught him in the flank and threw him to the floor.

"Not so fast, I want that box."

"Your friends are dead already, or will be soon enough." He rose, a light wheeze was the only sign Mufroen touched him.

He stepped back and drew his sword. The blade unfolded in all its magnificence. He could see its light reflected in the other man's eyes. Kazir took an involuntary step back, then tried to dive past Mufroen before he could strike. The blade caught his robe, slicing it with a clean swishing sound and throwing off his balance enough for Mufroen to close in.

Realizing he couldn't run for it, Kazir turned, baring a knife with one hand and clutching the box in the other. Seeing his chance, Mufroen aimed for his right side, unprotected because of the box.

Kazir managed to jump out of reach, deflecting the sword with a desperate thrust of the knife in his left hand. Using the advantage of coming in from above, Mufroen pushed down on the knife, slowly gaining ground and forcing the other man down. With a grunt and an amazing show of force, Kazir forced their blades out to the side, ducking to the other side.

Getting back to his feet, he stumbled, dropping the box.

It tumbled in a high arc.

A loud crack sounded as it landed on its side. The lid fell open. A single stone rolled out. The dagger was not in the box. Mufroen could almost hear the little scribe's laugh.

"Noooohh!"

Before Mufroen could stop him, the other man jumped up on a windowsill and dropped out of sight. Only a step behind him, he was still too late to see where he went. He slammed the sword back in its hilt in annoyance. He could only hope that Alvin or Veel, whichever one they'd caught, would be dead before he could get back to force them to tell where the dagger was hidden. They'd stolen it, for sure, but a sense of justice filled him when he thought of the dagger, hidden out of reach from the path and its creepy members.

When he got back to the inn, he realized what had happened, even before he saw the scribbles of Rheena's handwriting. He showed the scrap of leather, torn from the instructions by the looks of it, to the sword.

He didn't need to be able to read to understand what it said. He'd seen the fear and recognition on her face when she saw Kazir. For some reason the silent man scared her enough that she'd fled, and there was no way Mufroen would be able to find her in a city this large.

His golden warrior was gone.

Isles of Krake
Krake

The ships on the water looked like they were dancing.

Dun sat in the hollow of the cliff, taking in the scene playing out below. He was by no means a sailor, but at the start of the attack it seemed clear that the three short, narrow boats would easily escape the cordon of larger ships. Something must be wrong, because even though they were clearly faster, they'd allowed the noose around them to draw tighter and tighter. As he watched, the last of the gaps in the circle closed, sealing the slender Krake ships in.

The corral of boats floated just inside the narrow point of the bay's inlet. Narrow being a relative thing, the shortest line from the cliff to the rocky coast on the other side measured the length of at least twenty average ships.

Under the surface, the currents, rocks and gullies made the channel into a maze. A maze the Krake piloted for all the traffic going in and out as part of the agreement between them and the first city chiefs. A deal almost as old as the ancient city, that prevented anyone from knowing the seas around their islands and the entrance to the bay as well as they did.

Most of the city's inhabitants had a forced love affair with the water on which the bulk of their city was built. It provided food, good trade routes and a modicum of protection from outsiders that might otherwise get particular ideas about who controlled the city. The other side of the scales were filled with the overwhelming smell of things that died in the water, the continual threat of flood and the impressive count of people that disappeared without leaving a trace.

The inhabitant of the Krake Islands had no such qualms. They lived on the chain of islands that clustered around the mouth of the bay and stretched out into the ocean as far as three days sailing, called _Kraa-ké_ in the melodious tongue of its inhabitants. A cheerful and innocent sounding language, incongruous with the hard people that spoke it.

Their tan skins and black hair would set them apart from the pale people of the city, even if they were to venture onto the city's shores. The precarious and ancient agreement regarding their position prevented that, but most believed that even if they were free to walk the streets, they would prefer to stay out on the roiling seas. Krake babies were reputed to be thrown into the water the day they come into the world. They learn how to swim, or drown.

Dun looked at the struggle below with increasing amazement. The ratty collection of city ships was in the overwhelming majority, but crewed with poor sailors. That made sense, since any crewman that planned to sail the seas in the future would be hesitant to pick a fight with a Krake, let alone three ships' worth of them.

The three smaller Krake ships moved in quick, elegant swoops over the enclosed circle of water, a testament to the skill of those on board. For now they managed to keep the larger ships from launching any sloops, but from where Dun sat on the cliff, he could see the chain of ships around them tightening. Again, one of the ships peeled away to take a position farther out in a sloppy second ring while the remaining ships huddled closer, shrinking the circle of water between them.

He glanced at the islands on the horizon. No movement between here and there, meaning the cries of alarm that drew him hadn't reached far enough across the waters to warn the ships in the Krake harbours. The ships in the bay would be overtaken before anyone on the isles realized they needed help. Another one of the attacking ships ducked out of its place in the ring, shrinking it down another size.

Dun's spot up on the cliff had as much shelter as the rocks could give, but the cold edge of the wind cutting in from the sea made him shiver. When he arrived in the city moons ago, he'd adapted to the city's finer fashions like a fish to water, but the fine silks and linens did little to keep him warm and he was glad he'd kept his old, sturdy cape. Pulling the brown, fur-lined fabric closer around him, he glanced back at the ridge that would lead him back to the shelter and warmth of the city. He didn't need to see the struggle's end to know it would be nasty, and there was nothing he could do to help.

Then he saw it.

Another ship, hidden between the sharp teeth of stone at the bottom of the cliff. A Krake ship, a smaller version of the three under attack out on the water. He looked back to the shrinking circle of boats, then back to the lone ship, almost straight down from where he sat.

Three jumps took him to another hollow just above the water's edge. The Krake girl in the one-seater was watching the ships out on the bay with concentration and didn't hear him come up behind her until he was close enough to touch her.

A startled jump put her back near the tiller in one smooth move, but there was no way even the flexible little ship could move out between the crags fast enough to get away from him. And if Dun guessed right, she didn't want to leave the shelter of the rocks. He froze in his crouch and held his hands up, to indicate that he meant her no harm. She relaxed a little, but kept her eyes on him and a hand on something stowed under the rear seat.

"Think we can lift that?" He pointed at her boat, indicating the rocks behind him with a sideways nod. "There's a cave back here where it'll be safe."

The girl frowned, looking back over her shoulder. Her shoulders slumped at the sight of the struggling ships.

"It's a she." She said, moving up the side of the boat and onto the stone with skipping steps. Dun struck a mental cross through the stories about bowlegged and limping Krake. This girl was supple as a cat, even if she had a rolling sailor's gait once she hit the ground.

The boat was light, Dun could have carried it alone. He kept to a crouch, so the stones hid him from sight, in case someone on the outer ring of ships happened to be paying attention to anything besides the ships inside their trap.

He moved to turn left toward the cave, but the girl gave a tug that indicated she wanted to keep going forward.

"The wind won't let me get home in time, but maybe I can get out far enough..."

She sounded like she knew it was a horrible plan.

"Too late, I'm afraid," Dun shifted the ship so he could see what was happening on the water. "They're on board."

She dropped to her haunches. Too much white showed around the silver grey of her eyes and Dun saw how young she was. He'd eat his boots if she was a month over thirteen. Pretty though, in a harsh way. Life out on the water would only sharpen her features, but it would look good on her.

He caught the slack as her side of the tiny boat sagged. He didn't have to pull hard to get her to let go, so he could push it up into the cave. Anyone that was really looking would find it, but it would be invisible from the water. The girl sat where he left her, staring out at the bay with a troubled frown.

"It's my first day out," Dun heard a tremor grow in her voice. "They attacked us—" She turned her grey eyes to plead with Dun. "Why would they attack us?"

"Good question," He said under his voice, guiding her onto the trail and thinking about the real question that scratched his mind. Why hadn't the Krake boats made a run for it when they still had a chance of escaping?
Kalis and Dun go shopping

The winds picked up during the night and by the time the sun showed its first light in the sky, people in the streets were glancing up at the sky, fearing a storm.

"No way you're going to get to Krake through that." Dun glanced out the window of his top floor apartment. You could see enough of the water outside the bay that even he could tell it would be choppy sailing. Kalis seemed strangely unperturbed, holding the cup of warm milk he just handed her before he went to look out the window.

"Not supposed to," She sipped her drink, amused by the puzzled look on Dun's face and stretching the moment. The silent girl from the day before turned into quite the vixen once her shock wore off. "The chief will have asked the Watermen to ask the sea gods for help: Anyone going out will be fighting the wind and the water before they get to our people."

"Magics hmm..?" Dun nodded to himself. It made sense that the Krake had a pact with some of the sea deities, they spent almost all their lives sharing the waters. "Shame they didn't think to make an exception for you." When he looked back at her over his shoulder, she stuck out her tongue at him.

"Of course they did, land scratcher." She stared past him, out at the sliver of grey sea visible through the window. "But it'll still be steep going, so we'd have to get the boat into the water far enough from the channel to be sure I'd make it," She took another sip of her milk. "If they haven't found her yet."

She was right. Dun took a last look at the unprecedented flotilla of ships floating in the bay and out to sea, facing the channel leading out. If they got back to her little boat and it turned out that yesterday's attackers found it, they'd be in for serious trouble. The risk of walking into a trap was too great to go back there before they tried everything else they could think of.

"Let's go and get some information before we deci—"

"Why are you helping me?" She pretended to be more interested in the view outside his window than his answer, but he heard the tension in her voice. It was a valid question and he wished he knew the answer.

"Not sure myself," He tilted his head in question. "Does it matter?"

"Guess not." She shrugged and put her empty cup on the table. "So where are we getting this information?"

After seeing the curious looks people gave Kalis when they walked back to his house the afternoon before, he decided that she needed a disguise. Something to hide that odd wobbling boater's gait of hers. She thought he was joking at first, but soon saw the point of hiding that she wasn't just another city dweller. They were heading for the section of the docks where the fabric merchants had their stalls and shops and the last thing they needed was for people to make the connection between her walking like a water rat and the line of Krake ships floating just outside the harbour.

"Could you stop scowling like a sailor?"

"I _am_ a sailor." Kalis said under her breath, forcing a smile on her lips.

He looked down at the figure walking beside him. She was wearing one of Vera's long riding mantles with the hood up, effectively hiding all of her under a layer of plum-blue velvet. She still attracted attention, but it was the sort of attention any pretty girl would get.

"Okay, there's Muki. Remember, you're a demure, shy little girl who likes pretty things." He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her nod before he stepped up to the trader with his hands open in greeting.

"Dun, my friend. What brings you out on the docks on a day like this?"

"My niece came to stay with me last week and I promised her a new cape," He gave the merchant a conspiring wink. "Kay, say hello and tell Muki what you like." Dun looked out over the water of the harbour, while Muki pulled out rolls of fabric to show Kalis.

It looked like every ship in the city's guard was rigged and manoeuvring the expanse of the bay. The city rolling its muscles.

Nearer to the mouth of the bay was what looked like the attacking ships from the day before, facing the line of Krake ships just on the other side of the channel.

"What's going on out there?"

"That's what we'd like to know," The merchant leaned his elbow on a roll of green brocade. "So far they're not blocking anyone from going in or out, but those of us with shipments coming in are getting worried." He shot Dun a broad grin and patted at his wares. "Of course, what's already in will sell like hotcakes if they do block it."

"But, why would anyone do such a thing?" Dun almost didn't recognize the tentative voice as belonging to Kalis "Did something happen?" She managed to sound aghast at the general thought of bad things happening, and tentatively hopeful that someone would have a good explanation for her. He had to bite his cheek not to laugh.

"There was something of an altercation between them," The merchant pointed a stubby finger at the cluster of boats on their side of the channel. "And the Krake out there." Now he pointed out to the line of ships out at sea. He waved a dismissive hand at the rest of the ships on the water. "The city guard's woken up and is trying to make sure they don't involve anyone else in their fight."

"They got into a fight with the Krake?" Dun shook his head. "That doesn't seem like a smart thing to do."

"I know, right?" The merchant leaned both arms on the wood of the counter, his bales of precious fabric forgotten. "Rumour is, it's The Path."

"What's the path?" Kalis blinked at the merchant with wide-eyed innocence.

"Well, I'm not sure if..." Dun nodded for him to tell her. Muki hesitated for another moment, doubting stories about The Path were appropriate for young ladies, but his love for gossip won out.

"They've been in the city gods-know how long, used to be just another group of religious fanatics," He waved a hand at the temple district. "But then, a couple of years ago, they took over the black markets. And I mean _took over_. All the other gangs are as good as gone. There's some left, but only small time fishes. The Path is the only real player."

"And now they have it in for the Krake?" Dun asked.

"Seems like. They attacked some of their ships yesterday," He pointed a thumb at one of the islands hugging the shore a little way into the bay. "Took who- or whatever was on it out there, boats too."

Dun looked at the island the merchant pointed out. It looked more like a boulder than an island, all he saw were steep rocks separated from the mainland by a narrow strip of water. Ragged cliffs of stone marked the edges on both sides in a sharp line, like it used to be part of the mainland not too long ago.

Rough stones formed a natural limit to the city a ways from the gorge, just a few solitary houses straggled up the rise.

"Not a good thing, if you ask me." The merchant checked if there was no one in earshot and dropped his voice. "The Path is powerful, but out on the water? They'll get creamed, you mark my words."

They left Muki a good while later with a length of blue-green silk and a lot of gossip. After they dropped the cloth off at a seamstress, they returned to the top floor of the old warehouse where he and Vera lived. The bottom floors were condemned and their entrances blocked from the outside. The stairs of an adjacent building led to the roof of an outbuilding, from there another flight of rickety stairs led to the top floors.

Inside, it looked like a palace. The extravagant carpet in the hall muffled their steps and Dun gestured Kalis to follow him into the side room they used as a kitchen. In the places the plush tapestries didn't line up, you could see the holes where the plaster had fallen down from the walls, showing the bare beams of the building's framework.

He put a pot of water on the metal stove in the corner before sitting down. The lush glow of the antique wooden table struck a stark contrast to the peeling window frame.

Kalis hadn't said a word since they left the docks and now that he looked at her a little closer, he saw that she had an unhealthy, grey pallor. Before he could ask what was wrong, she burst out:

"I know what they are looking for." She looked up at him with an iron gaze that brooked no doubt. "They were after me."

Dun raised his brows in surprise, but kept quiet and waited for Kalis to continue.

"You know I said it was my first day out?"

Dun nodded and got up to see to the boiling water.

"My mother finally gave me permission to start training with the pilots," She accepted the steaming cup Dun handed her. "That's why there were three, well four, of our boats out. Normally we take just one, maybe two."

"I wondered why they let themselves get caught like that," He glanced at Kalis over his cup. "They were distracting them so you could get away, weren't they?" Kalis nodded, staring into the cup in her hands.

"Want to tell me what makes you so special that the path is after you?" He thought she wasn't going to answer him, but then she started to speak, still staring at her cup.

"My mother. The Path has been at her for as long as I can remember, but she always refused to help them with their smuggling," She snorted. "She says that if she wanted to dirty her hands, she'd go into business for herself. More profit and less danger of a knife in your back. Anyway, they seemed to accept it, but almost ten moons ago they started pushing. First they were just threats, and then they started going after Krake out alone. We've lost five since it started, mother thinks they're all dead."

"But it didn't work?"

"My mother?" She gave him a tight smile. "No, it didn't work. Unless they meant to piss her off. And then they threatened me."

"And somehow they knew you'd be out with the pilots yesterday and came to get you." He finished for her. Dun laughed, a loud and pleasant sound. "Gods, they must be angry enough to spit bricks that you weren't there."

She looked up from her cup, surprised by his mirth. After a moment she laughed with him, laughed until her eyes teared and she had to put down her cup to keep from spilling the hot liquid in her lap.
The stronghold

Kalis insisted that she come with Dun to see what was on the rocky island Muki pointed out to them earlier as the place where the captured Krake had been taken.

"Even if they catch us, they have no idea who I am!"

"Hmm..." Dun scratched the ruddy stubble on his cheek. It itched, but he went back to shaving because Vera preferred it that way. Not that she would notice in her current condition. The effects of the spell were slow in wearing off, leaving him to worry if she would ever be the same. "You sure about that?"

Kalis frowned at him, opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and looked at him with a thoughtful expression.

"You think..."

Dun shrugged, but his eyebrows lifted in a way that said they both knew he was right about this.

"They knew you were out on the water, no reason they wouldn't know what you look like."

Kalis sat staring out over the city's roofs for a while, then she nodded to herself and faced him again.

"I think I should go with you anyway, even if you find them, the rest will never trust you when you're alone. No offence, but to them you're just a dirt scrubber. And a man."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. The way I figure, they will never expect you to come to them."

She laughed. He liked it when she laughed. It was deep sound for such a little girl, the top of her head just reached his chest, and it lit her face with an uncomplicated and contagious joy.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that" She said, still chuckling. "If they have any idea who they're dealing with, they'll be prepared for an all-out rescue mission." Her face dropped. "My mother will think I'm in there-"

"Well, she'll be right in an hour or two," He jumped up from his chair, tired of talking and ready for some action. "Let's go shrimp."

Clouds covered the moon and the stars, leaving Dun and Kalis to make their way in almost complete darkness. They passed the last houses out on the rocks, they had a cold and abandoned look, like the last people that lived there left a good while back.

" _Ow..._ " Kalis hissed under her breath when she tripped over an unseen dip in the course gravel path that led up to the shore. Dun glanced at her with a frown and she mouthed an exaggerated _Sorry_ as she rubbed her foot. Not that anyone was likely to hear her over the roaring sound of waves against rock. The tide was coming in.

The trail twisted its way down to a bridge suspended over the narrow waterway between them and the looming mass of the island. It looked rickety from where they stood and Dun didn't enjoy the thought of what it would look like up close.

"Looks deserted." Kalis said after a long stare down into the dark shadows below them. She sounded worried.

"That's usually a good sign that it isn't. Deserted, I mean. We'll find them. If we have to turn this city upside down, we'll find them. I promise."

She squeezed his hand, looking relieved, but before she could reply, a light flashed on the other side of the bridge. As they watched, three long flashes, followed by two short ones, lit the waves between them and their goal. Clearly some sort of signal to someone on their side of the bridge.

"Down there, about halfway," Kalis crawled back from the edge. "You were right. Someone is here. They're signalling back to them."

Dun's mind churned out a list of obstacles that made him sigh.

If someone was on this side signalling, then the people on the island would notice the guard had been disabled the next time they signalled and got no answer. Not to mention that, even if they could disable the guard, they'd be sitting ducks out on that bridge.

Dun was good at getting into places unseen, but if the lookout on the other side was paying as much attention as he suspected, then he might spot him, especially when Kalis was with him. He turned to the girl beside him.

"We need a new plan," He pointed to the dark expanse of water of the bay behind the island. "Any chance we can reach it from the water?"

Kalis pursed her mouth into a parsimonious bud, slowly nodding her head, more to herself than at Dun.

"Might work. They'll be looking to the waters on that side, in case mom figures out they took them to the island here and sends the boats to get them."

"So, not that way then."

"...No," She chewed on her bottom lip with nervous frustration. "But we might get over from this side." She crawled back to look over the edge of the cliff again and after a moment Dun joined her.

"There," She pointed down at the water's edge to their left, back towards the city. "See those spots? They're boats. We could borrow one and sail to the island from there. I bet they'll just be looking at the bridge and at the water on the other side, because that's where they expect attacks," She scooted back down and lay next to him on her back, looking at the sky. "If those clouds hold, we'll make it."

Even Dun could see the first boat they came across wouldn't be getting them far, the water in it stood more than two hands deep and it listed sadly to one side. Kalis muttered something he didn't quite catch, but he thought there were some harsh words for the boat's owner.

The next one looked almost as depressing to him, but Kalis gestured for him to get in and start bailing with the rusty bucket tied to its side. Before he could express his doubt about this boat, she'd already pushed them off, alternating swipes on each side with the single oar.

She knew what she was doing and they picked up speed quickly without making much of the spattering noises Dun associated with rowing. He wondered if this would be a good time to admit he didn't swim all that well.

When they came closer to the island, Kalis pulled up the oar, letting the boat glide in silence. Anyone handy with a bow would be able to take them out, so if they were spotted an arrow to the chest might be the only warning they got. Dun listened for anything that might be the sound of their discovery. The night seemed too silent.

The bridge loomed dark to their right.

He looked in front of the boat. They were aimed at the side of the island, if they made it close enough, the rocks would shield them from guards watching the bridge or the open water in the direction of the ocean on the other side. When they reached the shadows that indicated safety, he let his breath out in a long gasp.

" _Ssh_ " Kalis put a finger to her lips for him to be still. She sat listening, her head tilted to the side and her eyes closed. He listened too, but the idea of the both of them sitting there blind, kept him from closing his eyes. It seemed even quieter than before. The lapping sounds of water touching the shore barely more than whispers.

When Kalis motioned for him to follow her onto the rocks, his movements in the boat sounded like whales mating. He tensed, but apart from the sloshing water, nothing moved.

The way up was steep and riddled with loose stones that slipped under his feet. About halfway to the lighter patch of dark that he imagined was the edge, something touched his right shoulder. He pulled back in response and for a heart-stopping moment his hands touched nothing as his feet started to slide on the gravel. Kalis grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

" _This way._ "

He could hear her smirk. His lips tried to smile with her, he deserved being laughed at for not noticing she'd left the track, but his pounding heart prevented anything more than a grimace.

The next time he did see her stop and move deeper into the shadows. Following her, he almost laughed out loud when he saw what she'd led them to. A steady stream of not so fresh smelling water poured out of the bedrock through a waist-high iron grate.

With a great heave that ripped the seam on one of his sleeves, he tore one side of the roster loose from the stone. The peg holding the top corner in place snapped with a loud _Peng!_ and tumbled out into the dark water.

Dun had to bend double to avoid banging his head against the slime encrusted top of the dank tunnel. The muck reached to his ankles, but the wet glimmer of slime covered the entire surface of the shaft, suggested that it flooded to the top on a regular basis. He hoped that they'd reach the end of it, before someone decided it was time for a flush and quickened his pace.

After a while the darkness brightened. They came out below floor level, inside a basin. A single torch high on the wall lit the chamber. After the darkness of the tunnel it was enough to make both of them blink.

Brickwork edges rose on both sides, reaching almost as high as the top of Kalis' head. In front of them, a massive slab of stone blocked the way to what Dun guessed was the rest of the basin. A slow ooze of refuse ran out from underneath it and past their feet, into the tunnel.

The smell of waste and refuse felt heavy in his throat and he had to swallow several times before he felt sure he could breathe without gagging. He heard Kalis make a sound of disgust as she padded up to the edge of the basin on their left.

She waited for him to give her a boost. She could probably climb up without much effort, but that would mean dragging her body through the layer of slime that coated the stones almost to the top. Soon they were both standing on what turned out to be a ledge that ran all around the room.

Another pipe, larger than the one they came in through, stuck out of the middle of the opposing wall. The end hung over the basin and a steady stream of the reeking goop filled the basin on this side of the slab.

"Glad they didn't open this when we were coming up." Kalis pulled her nose in wrinkles as she leaned her upper body over the edge to look into the reservoir of human waste and filth.

"Well, at least they don't guard their sewage," Dun motioned for her to join him. He cracked the plank door and peeked through to the other side. "All clear here. I bet that if we find somewhere with more guards, that'll be the prison."

They had to go only one passage up to find three thuggish looking men crossing in front of them. One walked in a limp, a wooden stick replaced the lower half of his left leg.

_Plonk, step. Plonk, step_.

The one nearest to them hawked and spat out a ball of slime as they passed. It landed almost on top of Dun's boot.

"Why do we have to guard those bitches? Like it isn't enough that—" The rest of the spitter's complaint was lost as they walked on, but the _Plonk, step_ of the one-legged man left a clear trail for them to follow.

"Well, that's easy." Kalis grinned.
Dungeons

They followed the guards down the corridors at a distance. They went back down, deeper into the rock of the island. It was damp and chill and now that the gagging smell of the sewer had dissipated, Dun found himself wishing it was still there.

The place smelled like wet rock and age old mould down here. Dungeon smell. Memories of another cellar, miles away and not far enough in the past to be forgotten, tugged at his mind.

"No plumbing for the prisoners I guess." Kalis whispered under her breath.

She was right. Another unpleasant odour, much like the sewer they crawled through, got stronger as they descended a short flight of steps. Dun sniffed himself to make sure he wasn't the source of the smell, much to the amusement of Kalis.

"Those guys will never notice us over the smell of their breath." She said, grinning at him over her shoulder.

Voices came floating back at them from behind a door set at the end of a narrow corridor. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was clear they were getting closer to people.

"That's them," She stood next to the opening of the corridor with her head around the corner to listen. She turned back to him, nodding to herself, saw his sceptical frown and nodded with more enthusiasm. "I can hear them." Dun gestured that he took her word for it and made to lead forward. Kalis tugged his sleeve and slipped in front of him.

"Better if they see me first—"

Dun hauled her back without ceremony.

"So they have a nice clean shot at you? I don't think so." He padded down to the door before she could argue or slip past him again.

It turned out the door was in the middle of a corridor, giving them cover for another few metres on the other side, as they stole toward the voices. He could recognize snatches of words and the occasional singing of a Krake accent. He looked back at Kalis and she tilted her head in an I-told-you-so. Now that they could make out different voices, it became clear that two people were doing most of the talking, and not in a friendly fashion.

When they reached the end of the corridor, they could see into a dim room, much like a man-made cavern. It was lined with cages, metal rungs set in squares against the sides of the room. The one against the back wall was the only one he could see that was occupied. The light coming from the torches on the wall gave the people on either side of the bars a ghostly appearance.

Kalis made to push past him again, but he restrained her with a hand on her upper arm, pulling her back as gently as he could.

"They're hurting them!" Her whisper was loud enough to make him cringe, but the people on the other side of the room continued their shouting, seemingly oblivious to the struggling duo in the doorway.

"Not doing a good job then, by the sound of her," He nodded to the cage, indicating whoever was involved in the shouting match with the guards. "She's stripping skin without touching him." A proud smirk appeared on Kalis' lips and she nodded that he could let her go.

"That's Kara." The smirk turned into a grin.

"I'm surprised they haven't gagged her." Dun said with a grin of his own.

"I'd like to see them try," She was looking over his arm, pointing as she counted. "I bet they haven't found all of her knives yet."

"How many?"

"Just the three guards, but there's only five people inside," She frowned at him. "Someone's missing."

"Well... " Dun wasn't sure how he would finish that sentence, but he didn't have to. Somewhere on their left, invisible from where they stood, a door slammed open. The wood bounced against the stones with a crash. They just had time to duck back far enough in the corridor to hide in the shadow.

Those passing were close enough that Dun could have reached out and grabbed them. They halted a few steps from the cage that held the Krake prisoners.

"Don't talk to them!" The burly man on the left was better dressed than the others and Dun guessed that he was in charge. "The Walker does not wish it." He stepped up to the other men, forcing them back with his bulk. "And in case you've forgotten," One of them moved too slow and he jabbed him in the chest with his finger. "His wish is your command, blow brain."

Dun didn't know how she'd managed, but when he looked away from the squabbling group, Kalis was already at the cage next to the one holding the Krake. Suppressing some colourful curses, he hurried after her.

For a moment, he thought that she would get into the shadows between the two cages unseen.

"There she is!" A shrill voice drew everyone's gaze into the cage, to its source. It gave Dun the moment he needed to get to Kalis. By the time all the heads turned back toward the slender girl approaching them, he stepped up next to her. For a moment nobody moved, frozen by surprise. Then the screeching girl inside the cage broke the spell.

"It's her! It's her. She's the—"

A dull slap rang out and the girl thudded to the floor, holding her mouth. The tall women with the braid that had been shouting at the guards before, leaned over her dangerously, but the damage was done.

"Grab her!" The leader pointed at Kalis. His finger trembled and his face turned a deep, unhealthy purple.

Dun drew one of the long knives on his belt.

"Nobody moves," He pulled Kalis close and put the point of the knife to her throat. "Or you have to explain to your boss why your prize is dead," He grinned at the flushed leader. "And then to her mother." He could hear the bulky man swallow with a loud gulp.

Inside the cage, the tall woman stepped up to the bars. She looked at Kalis, who stood calmly in front of Dun. One of the tall woman's dark eyebrows inched up almost imperceptibly. With a withering glance at Dun that made him feel oddly nervous, she turned back to the guards and impaled the leader with her stare.

"Better keep her alive, sand sack," She tapped her finger to a metal bar, a soft sound, but it emphasized the threat in her voice.

She shifted her gaze to the woman outside the cage. The men guarding her weren't paying much attention to her now that Dun and Kalis appeared. It cost them dear.

A sharp kick to the knee on her right and an elbow to her left knocked out the two guards that held her. She grabbed the key ring on the leader's belt so fast that it was in her hand before he could move to stop her. She tore the leather strap loose and with a nonchalant twist of her wrist, the ring spun through the air. It passed neatly between the bars and the tall woman on the other side caught it in her hand.

The jingle of her catch cued the guards into confused action. The man with the wooden leg jumped after the keys, banging himself painfully against the bars. Dun stepped closer and punched the leader in the face before an order could leave his mouth. He dropped like a stone. The man shouting at the Krake earlier tried to make a stealthy getaway, hugging the wall as he ran. Kalis tripped him by sticking her foot between his and dropping her weight on his back when he stumbled. The last guard looked at the men spread on the floor around him, then at Dun, and held up his hands in surrender with a whimper.

"Tie them," The tall woman was out of the cell and already tearing up the leader's cape to use for rope. "And don't let her out of your sight." She nodded at the girl that alerted the guards. Still holding her mouth, she didn't seem to notice the two other girls who were both holding one of her elbows.

It didn't take long to tie and gag the guards and lock them in the cage.

"Someone will come check before long," The tall woman pulled Kalis to her chest in a hug. "So we need to be leaving."

"Our boat won't hold more than two."

"Not much of an escape plan, eh?" A short, rotund woman said. She had a pretty face, split in half by a white scar that ran from her forehead, across her cheek and her jaw. She grinned at Dun, obviously amused by his discomfort and confusion.

"Don't tease Elis," Kalis frowned at her. "He came to save you, at his own peril."

Elis tilted her head to look at Kalis and then raised it to examine Dun.

"Looks sturdy enough to take some teasing, little shrimp—" She quickly raised her hands in surrender when Kalis sucked in air for a reply.

"You have a better plan?" Dun asked.

"I thought you'd never ask!" Elis' grin wrinkled her scar like a white snake, but her humour was contagious and Dun found himself grinning back at the stubby woman. "We saw some _hidden_ ," She twisted her fingers to indicate what she thought of the path's hiding skills. "Boats in a cave near the one they brought us to. If we can get to them, we'll make it to the coast, cross the cliffs. The girls will pick us up on the other side, with a bit of luck even before these guys find their asses and give chase."

Kalis looked back to Dun in question.

"You can come with us?"

He saw a worried expression slip across Elis' marred features. But even though part of him wanted to come, make sure the mouthy shrimp got home safe, and maybe see the Isles of Krake for himself, he knew he couldn't. There was no way to tell how long it would take him to get back to the city now that the Krake and the path were in an open confrontation, and he couldn't leave Vera to fend for herself.

"Nah, I think your ladies can take it from here. I'll just slip out across the bridge while they're busy chasing you," He winked at Elis before he looked down on Kalis with a more tender expression. "How about you make sure those gods of yours don't drown me when I come to visit and drop of your new cape."

"I'll see what I can do," She hid her disappointment well, giving him a cocky smile. "But you might want to consider taking some swimming lessons, in case they don't like the colour."

Walking back to the city he heard the faint sounds of the chase. There was no way the path was getting its hands on that little shrimp now.
Titles by F.E. Hubert

Tales of Mufroen and Dun

 Sword of the Sands

 Book of Magic

 Sword in the City

 Isles of Krake

Swords and Magic (Tales of Mufroen and Dun 1-4)

Available soon:

Dog's blade

