

Hemlock and the Maker's Fire

The Maker's Fire – Volume IV

1st edition

By B Throwsnaill

Published by Bill Ainsworth at Smashwords.com

Copyright 2018 by Bill Ainsworth writing as B Throwsnaill

For more information about B Throwsnaill's writing please visit http://www.wiztower.com .

This book is dedicated to my family and especially to my late father.

I'd also like to extend a special thank you to my beta reader, C.D.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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

All characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Prologue

Deep thunder rumbled as Hemlock climbed up a circular stairway, the tapping of her hurried footsteps reverberating within the tight, stone space as the flickering light of her lantern fought against the encroaching darkness that surrounded her. The darkness seemed unnatural—like a void that hovered at the edge of her perception rather than a mere absence of light.

She knew something important awaited her at the top of that long staircase, and she hurried to complete the climb. In the next moment, she saw a full moon above her as she emerged from the stairwell.

Suddenly, there was grass under her feet and all traces of the stone stairs were gone. She looked up and surveyed a wide field that extended several miles in all directions and was bordered by gently sloping hills in the distance.

A mild breeze brought a strange smell with it that put her on edge. It was a smoky smell, but nothing was burning.

Deep thunder sounded again, and this time, the earth under her feet trembled. About fifty feet in front of her, a figure rose smoothly from the ground as a dazzling array of glowing, circular runes surrounded it. The runes expanded until they had covered half the distance between her and the figure.

The glowing light of the spinning runes revealed the figure was a well-heeled man. He was dressed in a blue waistcoat with a black tricorne hat that barely contained his overflowing, curly, flaxen tresses. The fact that he was dressed like a dandy was beyond dispute, but his eyes quickly dispelled any notion that this self-indulgence marked him as someone to be taken lightly. Even at some distance, the eyes of the man overshadowed his dress. They were cold eyes—calculating and devoid of compassion.

Sub-Imperator DuLoc bowed to her as the network of runes approached her across the grass.

An animalistic snarl from behind startled her. A black-haired, pale-eyed, slender wolf leapt out of nowhere, sailed past her as she turned, and charged the approaching line of runes. She felt a strong bond with the wolf that she didn't question. When the wolf reached the runes, there was a calamitous sound. The wolf yelped with pain until a shroud of golden light surrounded it. The runes broke over the shimmering wolf, casting shards of magical energy into the air that gradually dissipated.

She was momentarily puzzled by the fact that a frayed leather leash was tied around the wolf's neck and trailed behind it. Her instinct was to grab the leash, but she realized it wasn't strong enough to control the raging beast.

Instead, she refocused her attention on DuLoc. Hemlock took several steps forward and saw that DuLoc's back was arched and his hat had fallen off. His body was wracked by the effort of maintaining the wall of runes, and still the wolf was creeping forward through them, shattering them as he went.

She began to feel triumphant as she reached the wolf. But the scene quickly faded into the sudden clarity of a morning in the Warrens and familiar surroundings.

Chapter One

The sky over the Warrens was filled with oddly rippling clouds with alternating pockets of light and dark that reminded Hemlock of when she had pulled a knitted blanket over her head as a child. This looming sky had a stifling effect on her spirits, and as she patrolled the dusty streets, she found herself ignoring the crowds around her. The thought of some petty crime occurring nearby didn't stir her passion like it usually did. Instead, she just felt melancholy. Stinging memories of Safreon, her old mentor, had been haunting her all day—the air itself seemed to be laden with traces of his spirit.

After she listlessly traveled a few more blocks, she decided to return to her apartment. She had bad days from time to time, and the best remedy was usually a quiet day with a pot of tea. While some in the City indulged in intoxicating teas, she preferred the less-heady variety.

As she opened the door and crossed the threshold into her apartment, she hoped to be alone. But then she remembered that her apartment now housed three people instead of two. And someone was almost always home—typically Falignus, who rarely left at all.

She heard a dull sobbing coming from the bedroom. Surprised, she moved toward the source of the sound.

It's him.

As this realization took hold, she experienced a mixture of compassion, discomfort, and curiosity. Something made her step on a floorboard she knew was creaky, and the resulting noise stopped the sobbing.

"Hello?" she said.

"I'm here," said Falignus, sounding somewhat hoarse. He was her ex-lover and one-time adversary. He had been identified in a prophecy as being pivotal to her success. So, Hemlock and Tored had rescued him from the world he had been, until recently, banished to. It was a banishment she had caused. Although, at the time, he had tried to kill her. But he wasn't the same as he had been. He'd developed a bestial aspect and an appetite for human souls. He was keeping his darker self in check―for now.

"Is everything alright?"

There was a pause.

Something inside Hemlock was desperate for him to respond negatively and tell her what was wrong. Another part of her was relieved when he didn't.

"Yes, of course."

Her thoughts returned to a hot cup of tea. She turned toward the kitchen but found herself rooted in place.

I have to go to him.

The realization came over her with a surprising suddenness. There had been little intimacy between them in the weeks since their return to the Warrens. Hemlock thought this was fine and probably made the most sense in the context of the threat of DuLoc.

But, suddenly, it wasn't alright anymore. She knew she wanted more. She tried to shrug it off and go make her tea, but her feet didn't move. Something had changed inside her. Maybe it had something to do with how she was feeling at that moment. She felt dead inside—like she'd do almost anything to feel something again. She considered that her judgment might be impaired by her mood, but she had the impression her mood was actually giving her better clarity.

Before she knew it, she was standing in the doorway of the bedroom and looking at Falignus as he lay on his bed. He'd lost weight since he had last been in the City. She barely recognized the gaunt form lying there as she compared it to the lithely muscular version of him she remembered from their night of passion in the Wizard Tower. But it was still him—the same man she'd felt a powerful attraction to and still did. And it was more than just an attraction.

It's a connection.

"You can talk to me, you know," she said softly, taking a step into the room.

He turned to face away from her and replied with an edge in his voice that surprised her. "I'm fine."

She was taken aback for a moment, realizing that she had been envisioning how this moment between her and Falignus would unfold. With that one sentence, he had spoiled her scenario, leaving her feeling angry and betrayed.

I offered him intimacy, and he's rejecting me.

"If you're fine, then why do you lie in this room for hours on end? Why don't you compose yourself? Maybe do some work around the house or something?" she said.

He turned over and glared at her. His arms were trembling, and Hemlock wasn't sure whether it was from anger or the unwholesome desires he was now subject to since his ordeal in Ogrun. "Oh, is that how I'm supposed to be acting? Well, if you'd provided me a script, I could have followed it. I'm just trying to get my head straight and figure out how to be a person again. If that comes across as a waste of time to you, then maybe I should leave. But, oh, that's right—I can't leave because I have to wait here for your little war to unfold so I can fight for you, right? So, I'm stuck here!"

His words stung her and dispelled her anger—leaving remorse in its wake.

"Look, I get it. I'm sorry I got mad. You're just so withdrawn. You should talk to me. I can help you."

"You rescued a beast from Ogrun and returned it to the world of men. But I'm still re-learning how to be a man. I have a lot to think about—a lot to come to terms with. Part of being a man is being able to live with dignity. Give me my dignity, Hemlock. Don't expect me to pour my soul out like a child. Things may change, but you have to give me time."

"What about your...hunger?" She was nervous to mention it but knew it couldn't be ignored for long.

"Again, let me worry about that."

"But you won't..."

"I promise, I won't hurt anyone." His tone had finally softened enough to satisfy her.

Hemlock felt deflated and her melancholy feelings of loneliness returned. She withdrew from his doorway and retreated into the kitchen to prepare some tea.

...

Hemlock stood on a stone platform as roiling lava licked and hissed at the rock under her feet. She was in a large, dark room filled with hazy air that was heated by the lava around her. There was a sheer stone wall at her back and a rocky platform like the one she stood on floated twenty feet ahead of her in the lava. Beyond that, a sequence of flat slabs of rock crossed the lava pool, ending near the far wall of the huge chamber where a long rope ladder had been hung from an upper balcony.

Renevos and Merit had designed an experiment in this large chamber in the Wizard Tower to test her abilities. The goal was to put her in a well-controlled amount of danger—just enough to trigger her powers. The hope was they would be able to study her powers and help her to better understand how to trigger them at will, rather than having to wait for the stress of peril to summon an involuntary response.

This should be fun.

She took three running steps, doing her best not to tip over the rock floating below her feet, and leapt onto the nearby slab. The platform sagged dangerously as she landed, but she shifted her weight backward and was able to stabilize it.

Her heart was beating fast, and her senses were heightened. The air itself seemed to undulate with heat as she prepared to jump to the next platform.

As she jumped again, there were cries from atop the far balcony.

That's odd.

She landed hard again and nearly lost her balance as the platform sunk below her more than she had expected. She kept upright, but the platform tilted forward dangerously.

She was about to utter a curse when an unexpected brightness in front of her caught her attention. She realized why her platform—and the lava all around her—had dipped suddenly. A thirty-foot wave of lava rose on the other side of the room and was now surging toward her. Worse still, the rocky platforms in that area had been dislodged from the floor and were hurtling toward her on the crest of the wave.

Her pulse went from rapid to frenetic as she considered her next move. The approach of the wave of lava seemed excruciatingly slow as her adrenaline kicked in. It gave her plenty of time to consider how desperate her situation was. She hoped her platform would remain stable when the wave hit. And if it didn't, she had to pray that another stable platform was close enough to jump to.

When the wave finally hit, it raised her platform abruptly and tilted it downward at a dangerous pitch behind her. She maintained her footing but realized a violent impact with the rear wall was imminent. Unless she did something, she'd be crushed between the wall and the platform she clung to.

Another platform was still riding the crest of the lava several feet above her platform. Her only hope was to reach it and remain flat when it hit the wall. She felt a tingling sensation and time slowed even further. She felt her fear slip away as power flowed through her.

At least I've channeled my power.

In the instant before her platform hit, she leapt up and struck the wall feet first. Thrusting upward with superhuman strength, she flew up and over the higher platform, landing deftly in a crouch, which allowed her to keep her balance as the new platform hit the wall sharply.

The wave of lava was repulsed by the wall and flowed back at lesser strength toward the other side of the chamber. Her platform was moving away from the wall slowly, but it was falling down the face of the now receding wave. She spotted another platform near the top of the wave that was moving away from her. She jumped despite the difference in height and the prohibitive distance.

She soared into the air, causing the platform she had left to sink beneath the lava. The apex of her jump took her above the top of the wave again, and she noticed flashes of light from the far balcony.

Is that battle magic?

She didn't manage a clean landing this time. The platform sagged dangerously beneath her, and because she landed offset from its center, it began to spin slowly.

She rotated with the platform as the wave took her toward the center of the chamber. Another wave was approaching from the opposite wall, and she perceived with some alarm that there wasn't another platform close enough to reach despite her magically enhanced strength and agility.

But then there was a bolt of lightning above her and an explosion. Next, the sound of groaning metal rang out like fanfare for a metal girder that had fallen from the ceiling and crashed down until it hung vertically fifty feet above the lava. There was a long chain attached to its end which fell down and arced from the back wall behind her toward the far wall. Before she consciously considered that it would pass fairly close overhead, she had already jumped straight up with all of her might.

She grabbed the last link of the chain, which was as thick as her forearm, and its momentum carried her across the room quickly. She looked toward the far wall and saw that much of the rope ladder had been burned away by the rise of the lava wave. But there was still enough of it left for her to risk a timed release from the swinging chain. This sent her hurtling toward the wall and the scorched end of the ladder.

She hit the wall hard and cried out. The wind was knocked out of her, and she was shocked for a moment. But she focused just in time to extend her arm as she fell and grabbed the rope ladder. She pulled herself up and climbed swiftly, leaping the final distance and landing in a cat-like stance atop the balcony.

The spacious observation deck of the fifth floor of the Tower stretched out in front of her, though much of it was in shadow. Otticus was in a full sprint toward her from within the space and skidded to a halt when he noticed her.

Behind him, she saw Miara, Renevos, and Merit standing near a prone figure that was restrained by a sparkling-blue magical net.

"It's Joxer. He tried to kill you during the experiment," said Otticus.

"I noticed," said Hemlock.

"I saw the spell he cast and then he put up a shield to cover his escape. But I teleported through it and took him down. He probably didn't think I'd be here."

She walked toward the trio of figures and Otticus fell in step beside her.

"Why did you do it, Joxer?" asked Miara, looking down at the figure.

"Jalis ordered it. The time of wizards is dawning again. DuLoc will restore our dignity and glory. I thought things would be better if I stayed in the Tower, but they're not. I had to act," hissed the wizard.

"How did you communicate with Jalis? Are there other sympathizers in the Tower?" growled Otticus.

Joxer didn't respond.

Otticus' jaw clenched and the tattoos on his arms glowed.

Miara reached out and made a downward motion toward Otticus with her hands. "Relax. We'll get the answers we need in due time."

There was a sound of shuffling feet and four First Circle wizards rushed into the room.

"Joxer has betrayed us. Place him in a cell and don't allow him to talk to anyone. Otticus, go with them, just in case. There might be other sympathizers at large," said Miara as she modified her spell of confinement to form a tight band surrounding Joxer's upper torso.

Otticus clearly wanted to stay, but he followed Miara's order and left the room.

A hooded figure entered the room soon after the guards had departed. Hemlock recognized Urq, Renevos' assistant. Urq shuffled to Renevos' side, his graying red beard visible under the hood that concealed his face.

Urq mumbled something to Renevos, who nodded enthusiastically.

"Though I was distracted during your test, Urq here was able to observe you. And I have good news. Joxer's foul betrayal did have a silver lining. It made our test of your magical abilities much more realistic," said Renevos.

"Did you find out how I can activate my powers?" asked Hemlock.

"We've discussed how your powers always seem to activate in times of crisis. Now that we were able to observe you in a controlled setting, I think we will be able to help you gain better control over them."

"I need to use them against DuLoc before he has me at a disadvantage. It won't be enough to get a burst of power when I'm wounded or in danger of being killed. I need to attack with my powers while I'm still at full strength," said Hemlock.

"Urq and I have been studying the effects of stress on the body. We believe certain humors affect the body to make the heart beat faster and induce sweating, among other things. Urq says he detected an increase in these humors when you started using your powers. We will run another test using a potion to induce these humors in your body and see if your powers manifest as a result."

Miara shook her head. "If Gwineval was healthy, he'd disapprove of this."

"Perhaps, but the most dangerous part is past. We have the information we need. Taking a potion such as I suggest isn't dangerous for a person in good health. I'm sure we could get volunteers to test it before we give it to Hemlock, if that is your concern," said Renevos.

"I guess you're right. But no more experiments like the lava course, alright?" said Miara.

"It's up to Hemlock," said Renevos. "Hopefully the potion will work and we won't need more."

"It's alright, Miara. I know you're cautious, but I need this. DuLoc seems to have full access to his powers, and I need all of my powers to fight him," said Hemlock.

"This whole situation seems like madness." Miara pursed her lips as she spoke.

"It'll be alright." Hemlock gave her a curt nod, attempting to calm Miara's fears.

"We have to find out if Jalis has other agents in the Tower," said Miara.

"Of course he does," said Renevos. "Wizards come and go from the Tower all the time. Jalis surely has agents in the City that can get messages inside. Somehow, they convinced Joxer to martyr himself for their cause. We probably should make a harsh example of him."

"And what would be harsh?" said Miara, glaring at Renevos.

Renevos recoiled from her stare. "I'm just pointing out that handling Joxer mildly might encourage other insurgents. Dealing with him harshly could discourage them."

"Dealing harshly with Joxer might disillusion those who stand with us on principle. The wizards who respect raw power will likely side with DuLoc no matter what we do," said Miara.

"So, we can't kill him. But what can we do with him? Imprison him indefinitely? What if someone inside the tower frees him?" Hemlock mentioned her concerns in rapid fire.

"We could banish him from the Tower, but he'd go straight to Jalis," said Renevos.

Hemlock considered the problem. She certainly didn't want to release the man to swell her enemy's ranks. Then an idea came to her. She visualized the realms outside the City and their travel relative to it. A distant world would intersect the City in two days' time. It was one of the farthest that the City joined with, and the intersection was infrequent.

"I've got an idea," said Hemlock. "In two days' time, I'll take Joxer to the veil and push him across. He'll be stranded on a distant world. DuLoc won't take the time and energy to retrieve him. And it will take years for our world to realign with the one he'd be sent to. It would be a long banishment."

Miara frowned but said nothing. Merit shuffled back and forth and looked agitated.

"I think it would be for the best," said Renevos.

Miara nodded, but her eyes were downcast. "I'll go question Joxer again," she finally said.

Renevos, Urq, Miara, Merit, and Hemlock exited the chamber. Hemlock went with Merit when the group split up at the central staircase.

Hemlock hadn't been alone with Merit since her return from Ogrun.

"How have your experiments on the other automatons been going?" she asked.

"I've stopped them," said Merit.

"Really? I'm surprised. Any reason why?"

Merit turned his head from side to side as they descended, peering into the passages that led into the interior of each floor they passed. When they got to the third floor, they left the stairwell and made for Merit's chamber. Merit looked behind him, and the hinges near his ears flapped rapidly.

"What's going on with you?" Hemlock asked.

"Please wait a moment," he said, reaching his chamber door, opening it with a key, and beckoning for Hemlock to enter.

Hemlock noticed that Merit had accumulated more books since she had last visited him. She strolled past his desk and noticed the titles of two open volumes. They were both ancient texts from the Imperial period.

She glanced at Merit, surprised he hadn't resumed the conversation after shutting the door behind him. He stood beside the door with his hand cupped between the door and his ear.

Merit noticed her watching him and slunk away from the door, looking as embarrassed as his mechanical features would allow.

"I'll ask again. What is going on?" said Hemlock. "And why do you seem paranoid?"

"Miss Hemlock, you've asked me to keep secrets in the past. Now I must ask you to keep one."

"Alright. I will. Now please tell me what's going on."

"I've been experimenting with magic."

Hemlock took a second to digest the remark. "Experimenting? Is that wise? Wait..."

"I'm a wizard."

The short statement threw Hemlock's world out of balance for a moment.

"Impossible," she said.

"I would have said so too, until recently. During the battle of Castle Stargis, I was ambushed by Grubbins while I waited at the outskirts of the battle. He stabbed me several times with a long knife and severely damaged my body."

"What is with that guy? Remind me to kill him next time I see him."

"He's so twisted by hatred that I pity him."

"We've got to talk about that. But first, I want to hear why you think you're a wizard."

"After he stabbed me, he was on top of me and about to deliver a fatal blow. I suddenly perceived the elemental forces surrounding me and I knew enough from my years in the Wizard Tower to understand what I was experiencing. It was exactly like the teachers describe. I remembered how Gwineval described a gust spell from his recent classes and I cast it! Grubbins went flying into the air, and I think he was hurt when he landed."

"Amazing! Merit, what does this mean?"

"I don't know. Renevos has repaired my body as well as he could, but permanent damage was done. Sometimes I lose control of it. But I can cast spells."

"So, your theory about your body imprisoning you is true."

"My body sustains me, but it seems to restrain me as well. Clearly, it was restraining my magical abilities."

Hemlock sat in the chair Merit kept on hand for guests. Neither of them spoke for a minute.

"What spells have you been able to cast?" asked Hemlock.

"Every one that I've tried. Some of the more complicated ones have taken me some time to master, though."

"Merit, this is incredible, though I'm not completely surprised since I can sense your location when I look into the worlds beyond our own. So far, I've only been able to track extraordinary people that way. And I'm not talking about normal wizards. Only people connected to my father and the Imperator have appeared. And DuLoc."

"There's more, Miss Hemlock. Watch this."

Hemlock looked at Merit closely. His body seemed to relax. His spinning gears slowed and the gentle whirring sound that always emanated from his body became difficult to hear. Next, the expression on his face became strangely vacant. She then became aware of a glow coming from the opposite side of the room.

A glowing figure stood in the corner. She had no idea how it had gotten there until she realized it was the spitting image of Merit. The figure waved to her slowly before wavering and another figure appeared for a moment. It was a young man wearing a tricorne hat similar to the one DuLoc wore. Merit's iron body reappeared in the shimmering image and then wavered again, replaced by the youth. The youth's features clenched in concentration and his figure solidified.

"It's me, Hemlock," said the shimmering figure in a dulcet voice.

Hemlock was taken aback. "Merit?"

"Yes. I think this was my true form before I was imprisoned in my present body."

"This happened to you when you were not yet full grown?"

"I can't say for sure, but I believe so. I will return to my body now."

The insubstantial figure disappeared, and Hemlock heard the gentle mechanical whirring sound resume. She turned to see Merit stretching his arms and legs.

"It's a strange sensation," he said.

"I bet," said Hemlock, sitting down again and trying to take stock of the spectacle she'd just witnessed.

"Merit, how did you realize you could do this?"

"I happened to be late for an appointment. By chance, I imagined myself in the chamber I was trying to reach as my body stalled and I lost control of it. I accidentally triggered this ability and appeared in Gwineval's room as he rested. It took me several moments to realize what had happened. Fortunately, I was the only one present besides a sleeping Gwineval. As I took in the strange situation, I started to feel very odd. I believe I started to experience dim recollections of the past. But I also started to feel an odd pull—as if I was being drawn away from the world. I had to return to my body."

"Have you been able to remember anything about your life before the transformation?"

"Not yet. But I have unusual feelings that seem to connect me with events I can't yet recall."

"Maybe if you can stay out of your body for longer, you'd remember more. Did you feel that pull to the afterlife when you just...used your power?" Hemlock asked.

"Yes. I always feel it when I use the power. I use it sparingly because of that."

Hemlock paused to consider what she had seen before speaking again. "Your image looked like you might have been alive in the same period DuLoc came from. You had a tricorne hat on."

"Yes, I came to the same conclusion."

"Do you think he might have known the old you?"

"It's certainly possible. I was dressed as I believe nobility dressed in that time. The circles of nobility are usually small," Merit said.

"Who have you told about this?"

"Nobody, except for you. I might have told Gwineval if he were well. I thought about telling Miara, but she seems so anxious trying to run the guild while Gwineval recuperates."

"So why all the fear of detection?" Hemlock was confused by Merit's secrecy.

"The wizards can monitor magic use. If they happen to notice my spell power, then they might deduce my new abilities. And they might force me to become a member of the guild. I don't want that. I am used to my routines. And I love to read my books."

"Surely Miara and Gwineval would make sure you are treated well if it comes to that."

"I suppose. But I like my role now. I can move around the Tower freely and have little formal responsibility. I can read books all day," Merit explained.

"But maybe you should be developing your wizardly talents."

"To what end? My connection to my body is already tenuous. I don't want to put undue strain on it."

Hemlock considered the options. "You'd be a good magical researcher."

"Perhaps. But we're about to fight a war, aren't we? You need information about DuLoc. That's what I've been focusing on."

"We also need information about you. If only there were some way to ask DuLoc about you without endangering your life."

"It's possible I could pose a threat to him in some way. I've considered that."

"So, you'll keep your abilities a secret?"

"Yes."

Hemlock was struck by an idea. "I could ask Falignus. He might know something about the history of the automatons. He might also know of ancient texts that could help."

"I'd rather you didn't ask him, Miss Hemlock. I don't trust him."

"That seems to be going around. I understand. I won't tell anyone anything."

"Thank you."

Hemlock shifted in her seat. "How is Gwineval doing?"

"I saw him this morning. He was lucid for a few moments but sank back into delirium. That Imperial spell he used has done great harm to him."

"I don't understand why he did that. I didn't even know he was still researching Imperial magic."

"Miara says he must have been doing it in secret. She didn't know about it either."

Hemlock nodded in agreement. "I understand it was a very powerful spell."

"The most powerful. This casting will go down in history. He is now one of the greatest wizards in the City's history."

"He just has to get well. And as far as being great, that spell won't help him against DuLoc, right?"

"Probably not. It was only the conventional spells that the Defiler's Wrath destroyed. I imagine it would have some potency against Imperial magic, but nothing on the order of what it can do against so-called wild magic."

Hemlock raised her voice in frustration. "So why did Gwineval waste his time mastering it?"

"I can't explain that, Miss Hemlock."

"I know, Merit," she replied, her tone softening. "Sorry I got angry. I just don't understand Gwineval sometimes."

"He means well."

Hemlock sighed. "I know. I think I know, anyway."

"I am sure of it."

"I wish I could be. Hey, maybe all this time he's been spending with Imperial magic means he could create a new body for you somehow."

Merit considered the idea for a moment. "It's supposed to be a very difficult spell from what I've read."

"So is Defiler's Wrath."

"True. But it probably has a much different elemental affinity than a combat spell. I intend to begin researching that type of magic, and I will certainly discuss it with Gwineval when he awakes."

"I saw Gwineval using Imperial magic to transform himself. Maybe the spell that could create or repair your body would be similar," Hemlock wondered aloud.

"What did he transform himself into?"

"I probably shouldn't say. It was kind of...personal."

"Alright."

"Have you heard anything about the Senate?" Hemlock asked.

"Yes. There is a vote coming to the floor on a resolution to banish Cassandra and her followers."

"Oh, great!" she said with a sigh. "When?"

"My understanding is the vote is scheduled for later in the week. But it could be brought to a vote early. Samberlin's son, Kantrell, has been championing it."

Hemlock shuddered inwardly at the thought of the elderly Senator. She didn't trust him, but she believed he was a man of principle. She had never heard of him having a son.

"I guess the Cassandra issue is finally coming to a head. I'll go see Samberlin again. It appears that he's fulfilled his bargain with me to keep things stable while I was gone."

She rose and made for the door but stopped to put her arm on Merit's shoulder. "Stay safe. I'll see you soon."

"I will, Miss Hemlock. You do the same."
Chapter Two

Hemlock shut the door to Merit's chamber behind her and walked out toward the main stairwell. There wasn't anyone on her floor, but she could hear a conversation below her. She walked down the winding staircase until the speakers came into view. Miara was talking to a hooded man who was glancing furtively in her direction as she spoke. It was clear he was trying to conceal his identity.

Miara nodded at something the hooded man said under his breath and then the man scurried off toward the meeting hall.

"Where's he off to?" asked Hemlock.

"He's going to leave from the lower door in the caves," said Miara.

"He doesn't want to be seen, I take it?"

"Yes. He's an informant. He tells me there is rumor of an agent of the Senate who has been meeting with DuLoc."

"Really? When?" Hemlock asked.

"Multiple times over the past several days, according to the rumor."

"That's crazy. Do you believe it?"

Miara looked her in the eye. "I think Samberlin is capable of anything."

"Do you think he'd risk that? He must know that I'll do something if I find out the rumor is true."

"I don't know. He's unpredictable." Miara shrugged. "But I'm sure he's capable of it. I want to send an agent to track down the Senate agent. I want to know if that rumor is true."

"That'll be dangerous. DuLoc is gathering an army. I'd volunteer, but I think Tored would totally lose faith in me if I did. He's drilled it into my head that I need to use my wits against DuLoc. He says I should meet him at the head of an army and not alone."

"He's right," said Miara. "You're far too important to go on a mission like this and risk being captured. I'm going to send Otticus."

"Otticus? Really? He's young," said Hemlock, immediately feeling awkward when she realized that Otticus was only a few years older than she was.

Miara's brow furrowed, and she raised her hands to her temples and rubbed them. "And headstrong. But he's brave and resourceful. I think he can do it. And he has the teleportation runes. It sounds like they worked quite well at the battle of Castle Stargis."

"I guess it makes sense to send him. But, alone? I'm not sure about that."

"I don't think I trust anyone else besides the council members, and I don't want to risk losing any of them to DuLoc."

Hemlock frowned. "I don't like it. I'll mention it to Tored. Maybe he'll have another idea. I do agree that we should get to the bottom of this rumor. I could also talk to Samberlin. I need to see him about the Cassandra situation, anyway."

Miara began to sway slightly from side to side before she looked to her left and right. "No. Don't talk to Samberlin yet. If he is talking to DuLoc, he might stop if he thinks we know about it. Let's send our agent and see what we find first."

"That does make sense. Alright, I'll run it by Tored. I still think sending Otticus alone is too risky."

"Alright."

"How is Gwineval doing today?" Hemlock asked, changing the subject.

"Better. But he's still disoriented. He seems to get a little better every day. I'm hopeful he'll be out of bed soon."

"That's good. Give him my best."

"I will."

"Bye, Miara."

"Goodbye, Hemlock."

...

Hemlock tried to ignore the debris that littered Ritter Avenue, the backstreet she was walking along. The Warrens district typically lived up to its moniker and was never clean, but this street was exceptionally dirty even according to the lowly standard set by the rest of the neighborhood. There were shards of broken pottery, broken wood, soiled clothing, and rotting food. These were the signs of the decay caused by addiction. And, as if on cue, an intoxicated man stumbled out of a doorway and shuffled across her path. He turned to look at her from beneath dark and heavy-lidded eyes. As he did so, his lips parted enough for Hemlock to see his stained teeth. This marked him as a habitual user of the hallucinogenic teas that were the scourge of the underclass.

"Lay off the tea, will you?" Hemlock called as she turned to avoid the man.

A grunt was the only acknowledgement he gave that he had heard her.

She shook her head. She had wanted to help solve the problems of the Warrens when she had been in control of the Wizard Tower. But things had proven to be more complicated than she thought, and the changes she sought to make had been opposed at every turn. And now she had to contend with DuLoc.

The smell of cooking food gradually began to overcome the stench of filth as she strode toward the Red Imp Inn. As she walked, she became aware of the sound of a disturbance coming from somewhere ahead of her. It was not in view, so it had to be coming from along the cross street she was approaching: Martle Boulevard.

This neighborhood always evoked bittersweet remembrances of Safreon for her. Throughout the Warrens, she had memory triggers too, but they were especially powerful on this street. She tried to acknowledge the flood of memories and to respect them. This made her feel a sense of contentment mixed with a gnawing sense of unfulfilled responsibility.

Am I doing enough to honor Safreon's memory?

The din ahead and the sight of a crowd split into two factions brought her mind back to her surroundings. She knew Martle Boulevard was now the border between the neighborhood where the Tanna Varran refugees had settled and the marketplace district. The fact that some altercation was underway didn't surprise her given that these two neighborhoods had contrasting customs and cultures.

She was somewhat relieved to see the bulky figure of Tored in the middle of the two crowds. Then she realized there were three groups. There was a group of followers of Cassandra pointing toward the group of Tanna Varrans. The followers of Cassandra were called "Lakers" because they made their home on a collection of boats and rafts anchored around the fine ship that Cassandra had sailed to the City. They were shouting theatrically. They seemed agitated, though they were non-violent by nature.

The Tanna Varrans, in contrast, spoke quietly amongst themselves, but Hemlock sensed a tension roiling amongst them that she feared might erupt into violence. There was also a group of merchants and normal peasants behind the Lakers who seemed to be siding with the Lakers, despite the fact that the Lakers were generally despised in the City. It became apparent that because most of the Lakers had once been traditional City folk, they were more sympathetic to the non Tanna Varran crowd than the Tanna Varrans.

Hemlock broke into a jog and the calls from the crowd became clearer as she neared.

"Come to the Lake. That chalk will wash off right quick!" cried a Laker, laughing. He ran his finger along the arm of a nearby Tanna Varran, wiping off some blue chalk. He then applied the chalk to his cheeks, much to the delight of the nearby Lakers.

The Tanna Varran was seething with anger, and Tored was between him and the Laker in a flash.

"All of you, keep away from one another! Go back to your homes!" yelled Tored.

Hemlock reached the edge of the crowd, put her fingers into her mouth, and emitted a shrill whistling sound. All eyes were on her.

"Listen to Tored! Back to your homes before we have to break some arms and smack some heads!"

The Tanna Varrans collectively took a few steps back toward their neighborhood, but the Lakers were undeterred.

Suddenly, a Laker woman embraced Tored and kissed his cheek. This caused another round of laughter from the Lakers. Tored pushed her away, but the Laker who had painted his face with chalk came up on Tored from his blind side, looking to repeat the kissing jest. Tored appeared to sense the approach and turned, hitting the man sharply in the face and dropping him to the sandy street.

The Lakers were stirred to greater passions. Some cried out in horror, shrieking in anguish. Others pushed toward Tored defiantly, shouting that they wanted a kiss, too. Many of the Tanna Varrans still remembered Tored as a leader of their old tribe, and they pushed forward in his defense and grappled with the Lakers.

Hemlock noticed that some of the Lakers were brandishing vials containing a murky liquid. They were uncorking the vials and spraying them over the crowd.

A few sprinkles hit Hemlock in the face and arm, which began to tingle with a pleasant sensation.

"Stop that! Tanna Varrans—get away from here. They are trying to use their magic on you!" cried Hemlock, realizing too late that the Lakers were spraying enchanted lake water that was purported to have pleasure inducing properties.

Some of the Tanna Varrans obeyed Hemlock while others appeared to be dazed by the lake water. Hemlock pushed through the crowd of Lakers, confiscating and smashing vials underfoot as she saw them. The Lakers taunted her and Tored as they regained control of the crowd. The Tanna Varrans who remained sober recovered their dazed companions and retreated from the street.

A squad of City watch soldiers arrived just as Hemlock was impressing upon the Lakers that they needed to disperse to avoid arrest. Some of the non-Laker townspeople trotted off with the Lakers, showing sudden signs of merriment that appeared to be the result of the lake water.

Hemlock gave a summary of the incident to the watch commander. She did not make mention of the lake water, fearing it would just exacerbate the already troubled relationship between the City and Cassandra and her followers.

After the watch soldiers moved on, Hemlock was left standing in the street with Tored.

"It's a curious feeling, isn't it?" said Hemlock. She felt flushed and her heart was beating slightly faster than normal. Her head felt light, and she was happy. She found herself thinking about dancing.

Tored, by contrast, seemed to have a similar reaction to his former countrymen. He started to reply to Hemlock but stopped himself. He made a few halting movements before he adopted an introspective pose.

"Tored, are you okay? Let me take you into the Inn," said Hemlock.

She led him slowly down the street until they reached the familiar front of the Red Imp Inn.

As they entered, Hemlock felt the icy stare of the proprietor looking her and Tored over. The barkeep's name was Martha Martle, and the recent changes in the City had done little to brighten her disposition. Hemlock knew her business was doing well, but she would never have guessed it judging by Martle's disheveled appearance and the soiled rag that she used to slowly wipe the bar.

"If he's sick, then I don't want him in here," yelled Martha.

Hemlock waved her hand dismissively and led Tored around some seated patrons to a heavily worn table that was unoccupied. He was still unresponsive.

As they sat, only the murmur of nearby conversations interrupted the quiet. Hemlock's concern for Tored gave way to a carefree feeling.

"It's not a bad feeling," she said softly.

"It's...not to my liking," said Tored haltingly.

"You need to relax a little bit."

"Like the Lakers?"

"Alright, maybe not that much. But we were exposed to the lake water without our permission. It's not our fault. We didn't seek out this pleasure. So, we might as well enjoy it while it lasts."

"That's not the Tanna Varran way. We view pleasure as a validation of our work and discipline—not as an end unto itself. An excess of pleasure erodes discipline and turns a man into an animal. And an unearned pleasure is the first step down the path of complacency."

Hemlock felt her own feelings of pleasure eroding. She had an urge to take leave of Tored and go explore the Warrens. She suddenly longed to swim in Hemisphere Lake and to feel what the Lakers must feel when they were near Cassandra.

"The whole lake isn't like this. Cassandra must enchant this water," she said.

"Yes. The Lakers carry it when they leave her vicinity. It maintains their unusual demeanor."

"I'm surprised they were willing to part with it by spraying the crowd. And why were they acting so aggressively? I really have to talk to Cassandra. If word of this incident reaches the Senate, they are going to have a harsh reaction."

"When I came on the scene, it looked like some Lakers were recruiting some of the younger members of my old people. The elders intervened, and it seemed to escalate as more people got involved."

"Does this mean they are recruiting more aggressively?"

"It would appear so."

"Huh," said Hemlock, thinking back to the tea-stained mouth of the addict she had recently crossed paths with. "How are the Lakers different than the tea mouths? At least the Lakers haven't been criminal up to this point...unlike the tea addicts."

"Both groups are addicts. The Lakers are just different, that's all."

"What if we sent the tea addicts to Cassandra? Do you think she could cure them?"

"If by cure you mean turn them into Lakers, then I would guess that she could."

"That could solve the crime issues in the Warrens."

"Perhaps. But swelling the ranks of the Lakers like that might have unintended consequences."

"I think it could work. I might consult Samberlin about it. This City still owes the residents of the Warrens something. I couldn't help them as much as I wanted to. But maybe I still can."

"Perhaps," said Tored, sounding skeptical.

Hemlock decided to change the subject. "I just came from the Tower. Miara wants to send Otticus to investigate the rumors of Senate dealings with DuLoc."

"He... It will be dangerous," said Tored haltingly.

Hemlock still identified with her prior feelings of skepticism concerning sending Otticus on the mission by himself, but she felt a distinct lack of emotion about it. "He's an accomplished warrior, though."

"If he goes alone, there's a good chance he'll be killed. He's not experienced in tracking and avoiding being tracked. I should accompany him."

Hemlock felt a dim recognition of emotion in response to Tored's suggestion. "You can't go any more than I can. I wanted to go with him, but I knew you'd never allow it. Well, you can't go for the same reasons I can't. You're too important to our preparations against DuLoc."

Tored grunted. "Someone should accompany him." There was a lull in the conversation and Tored's brow was furrowed as he looked down at the table with a distant look in his eye. "A Tanna Varran should go with him. They can use our wings to travel quickly. I have a friend named Rulwher. I've known him for years. He's a former member of a dishonored house. But he is an honorable and capable man. And he's fearless in battle."

"Do you think he would do it?"

"I think he'd do it as a favor to me, yes. And we'd pay him handsomely, of course."

"Of course."

"He's the man who had his paint rubbed off by that Laker during the confrontation. I will go see him after we finish here."

"How are you feeling?" asked Hemlock, realizing that the semi-euphoric feeling had mostly passed.

"Better."

"I guess I should go see Cassandra and Samberlin. I'm not sure which meeting I'm looking forward to less."

"You'll see Samberlin first."

"I guess so. If Cassandra made some more concessions, then that could help my talk with Samberlin. But I think I'd better get to Samberlin as soon as possible. Hopefully, I'll reach him before he hears about today's little incident."

"That sounds like a wise course of action."

"I'll stop and tell Miara that your friend will accompany Otticus. That sounds like as good a plan as we're going to come up with. Thanks."

"Stay safe, Hemlock."

"You too! Stay away from the Lakers, alright?" said Hemlock, smiling.

Tored frowned slightly but then managed a small nod.

...

Tored's friend Rulwher had quickly agreed to join Otticus on his mission to look for Senate messengers heading east to meet with DuLoc. As Tored walked back toward Hemlock's apartment, he employed the cold calculus of command to analyze their chances of success on the mission. He considered the possibility that one or both of them would be killed. His analytical mind told him their chances weren't good.

As he walked, he avoided making eye contact with passers-by. He was filled with dark thoughts. He would feel badly if either man died. Both were his friends. But Rulwher's death would weigh on his conscience more heavily because Tored had ordered the man to undertake the mission. Rulwher would have done so willingly, but Tored was also his old commander. Rulwher accepted the mission as an order, and Tored bore that weight of responsibility.

He saw a group of dirty children playing in the street ahead, and he went to the opposite site of the street to give them a wide berth. His mood had improved since he had returned from Ogrun, but today's events had aggravated old emotional wounds. He had been known to stop and play with these children once in a while, but he was not in the mood. And his mood soured further as he considered who awaited him back in the apartment.

He pushed open the wooden door and entered the kitchen, relieved to find the room was empty. It was almost noon, but Falignus still lingered in his bedroom.

Her bedroom.

He had worried that Hemlock and Falignus would become lovers after their return from Ogrun. But so far, she had insisted on sleeping on the couch in the common room. Tored found the thought of an intimate relationship between the two of them distasteful, but he knew there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He had little hope that his silent disapproval would dissuade Hemlock from anything if she decided to take Falignus into her bed.

A creak from the hallway indicated that Falignus had stirred. Soon, the younger man sauntered into the kitchen, the pallor of his slight arms striking Tored as vaguely obscene.

"So, where is she?" said Falignus as he walked to a cabinet to break his fast.

"She's going to talk to Samberlin."

Falignus turned and gave Tored an appraising gaze. "She didn't mention that to me."

"It's been an eventful morning."

"Care to share?"

Tored had no appetite for verbal repartee with Falignus, and gave him a matter of fact account of the morning's events.

"I see," said Falignus as recognition clouded his features. "She knows not to trust Samberlin. And he's certainly talking to DuLoc. I don't see why Miara wants to send agents to verify it."

"She wants proof to confront Samberlin with."

"To what end? It won't trouble him to be discovered. It won't weaken his position."

"It's been decided already." Tored was losing his patience.

"Of course, it has."

Tored noticed that Falignus' hand trembled as he reached for the bread.

"Are you feeling alright?" asked Tored.

"Yes. Fine," replied Falignus.

Tored continued to watch Falignus as he sat and ate.

Falignus sighed and stopped eating. "Look, I'm getting closer to needing to feed. But I'm not desperate yet. You need not fear me murdering someone."

"So you say. How are we to know what mood might overcome you?" Tored asked.

"Always the pessimist, aren't you?"

Tored colored at the remark but remembered that Falignus wasn't aware that he had been briefly exposed to Cassandra's pleasure magic that morning.

"Please remind Hemlock that I need some new books, will you?" said Falignus. "I might die of boredom if you insist I continue to keep a low profile. For my part, I don't see the problem with announcing my return. The Wizard Council already knew Hemlock intended to bring me back."

"It's easier for everyone if we don't publicize your return. Sometimes people prefer not to think about distasteful realities."

"Tored, what would I do without your conversations to lift my spirits?" Falignus deadpanned.

Tored shook his head and walked down the shadowy hall to his room. He paused in front of his door as the partially open door to Falignus' room caught his eye. He hoped Hemlock's relationship with Falignus was simply a youthful lapse in judgment. He feared what the consequences would be if Falignus gained more influence over her in the face of the coming conflict with DuLoc.

...

Hemlock walked along the road that surrounded Hemisphere Lake as Hemlock approached the Senate building. It was close to midday, and the road was crowded with people. There were merchants wearing white citizen robes and hauling carts full of shoddy merchandise toward the Marketplace in the Warrens. There were also many people leaving the Warrens in grey non-citizen robes and entering the Elite district to work.

Hemlock noticed clusters of Lakers emerging from the obscuring fog that hovered over the Lake. The fog had been ordered by the Senate, so the people of the City wouldn't have to witness what they perceived as obscene behavior taking place at the behest of Cassandra and her lieutenant, Faruk. The voluntary state of poverty that the Lakers lived in disgusted Hemlock. She immediately felt bad for judging them—for many of them were young like her. And she remembered the good feelings the Lake water had caused. But those feelings seemed hollow in retrospect. She thought about what Tored had said about pleasure. She still thought he was too uptight, but his opinion made more sense in hindsight.

The sight of the wide columns of the Senate building provided a welcome distraction from thoughts of the complexities of the situation with Cassandra, the Lakers, and the City. The whitewashed stone façade of the Senate building was imposing and looked like it would endure for centuries. It was reassuring despite the fact that the Senate had been an uneasy ally for the past several months. Samberlin, in particular, was a divisive figure amongst her friends and allies.

If he is double crossing us, then I'm going to look foolish for trusting him.

She reached the wide stairs of the Senate and climbed up three flights until she reached the main platform. There weren't many people outside the hall—likely because the Senate was already in a closed session. She approached a group of knights guarding the entrance.

"I'm here to see Samberlin. I'm a little early," she said to the nearest knight.

The knight, like his peers, was not wearing his full suit of armor. He nodded his head and pointed to the interior of the building.

Hemlock entered a large, shadowy hall, and it took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the lower light. Large hanging sconces filled with slow-burning oil provided what light there was. There were two great doors ahead of her, but they were closed. She made for a stairwell on her right which took her to the upper balconies. Many citizens were assembled to observe the proceedings. Hemlock was able to find a position that allowed her a clear view of the Senate floor. The Senators were seated and listening to a speech by Samberlin's son, Kantrell.

Kantrell was slightly built like his father but had a full head of sandy brown hair and was tall and lanky. His head was longish and thin, but his features were appealing. As Hemlock watched the young man speak, she paid increasingly close attention to him. He spoke softly, his words delivered in a calm cadence as he described the affronts delivered upon the City by the witches of the Lake. He spoke more quickly as he went into detail about the noble ways of the City and how the witches were corrupting them.

Oh, great! Kantrell's inflaming the Senate right as I come to discuss Cassandra. But he's also denouncing his father.

Hemlock looked down over the Senate chamber. The other Senators listened as if enraptured. She felt a small sensation of fear of the young man on the podium―not a physical fear―a fear of what he might cause to happen to Cassandra. Kantrell's tone had gradually risen to a strident and passionate crescendo as Hemlock had been waxing analytical.

"The patience of the people has finally worn thin and been sundered. It is time to act!" His eyes met Hemlock's as he spoke. "Backroom deals have been struck to keep the people from pursuing justice against the witches. It is time to throw back the curtain and let the light shine in. We will not allow our youth to be polluted by the soft doctrine of these witches! It is time to bring them to justice!"

Kantrell turned with a flourish of his white robe and strode down from the podium. His face wore what Hemlock assumed was a carefully rehearsed expression of righteous indignation.

"He's good―dangerously good," she muttered.

Scattered applause rang out from various parts of the chamber, and soon, over half the Senators were on their feet, clapping vigorously. Kantrell took his seat with a smug look on his face. He met Hemlock's eyes again, smiled, and nodded at her.

It made her want to run down and punch him in the face. Here he was plotting the deaths of scores of peaceful people and he was casual enough about it to be making a jest. It made Hemlock sick.

The audience began to file out of the chamber, leaving Hemlock sitting alone. She spotted Samberlin amongst a group of Senators. He appeared completely nonplussed by the provocative remarks his son had just made.

I don't get this guy!

She looked at the other side of the chamber where Kantrell talked amongst another group of Senators. Hemlock noticed that they were younger than the group Samberlin was talking to. Hemlock had the impression she was watching two bases of political power being fortified.

She just shook her head.

Leave it to Samberlin to have his own son plotting against him. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Samberlin took his leave of the Senators and made for the private chambers. Before he entered, he scanned the balconies and spotted Hemlock. He waved to her, gesturing for her to join him.

She rose and descended the same stairs she had entered from and then walked onto the floor of the Senate via the large interior double doors. This was her first time on the Senate floor, and the sensation surprised her. Even though the Senators around her were talking softly, their voices sounded amplified. The effect was so pronounced, she thought it might be magical, but she checked with her magical senses and didn't detect anything.

As she walked toward Samberlin, she felt the eyes of the Senators on her. None of them dared to look directly at her, but she knew they saw her nonetheless. To their credit, they didn't interrupt their conversations, but Hemlock knew politicians could easily converse while their minds were on altogether different matters than what they spoke about.

Significantly, she overheard a loud remark from her side and recognized Kantrell's voice. "See how bold they are, my friends?"

She felt certain Kantrell had purposely spoken loudly enough for her to hear.

When she reached the door, she entered quickly and closed it behind her. She walked into a well-lit room that was shaped in an oval. A large desk dominated the room and was flanked by two smaller desks on each side. There were two score chairs split evenly on each side by the smaller desks. A shelf was inset into the walls at shoulder height upon which a number of bronze busts were displayed.

"Welcome to the Speaker's Chamber," said Samberlin, who was seated behind the large central desk, which emphasized his small stature. He gestured toward a chair that faced him.

"What was that out there?" asked Hemlock.

"Oh, that speech? My son, he's a bit...boisterous," said Samberlin.

"A bit? He denounced us both in front of the entire Senate!"

"Yes. He's the son of a whore. He's inherited some of my skills, but also some of his mother's traits. He's excessively proud and headstrong like her. He overestimates his abilities."

"I can understand him denouncing me—but why you?"

Samberlin adjusted his posture and shuffled some papers on his desk. He turned to Hemlock and gave her an appraising look.

"One day, he asked me whether he'd ever be as skilled in politics as I am. I responded with an honest assessment. I told him he has skill but not my level of skill. Unfortunately, he seemed to take that as a personal challenge. He's been determined to unseat me as Speaker ever since."

"I see. That's not exactly a great parenting moment. But I guess he shouldn't have expected anything but a candid answer from you."

"I like to think I've established a reputation for candor."

It was Hemlock's turn to shift in her seat as her thoughts turned to Cassandra. "I've come to discuss the situation with Cassandra."

"Of course you have. I've kept my side of our bargain."

"Yes, you did. Although, I wasn't expecting you to lose control of the Senate in the process."

"It's quite the contrary. I'm completely in control."

"So you say, but your son is out of control."

"I disagree. He's disappointingly predictable. I figured he'd interpret my agreement with you as a weakness and try to exploit it. But he hasn't thought the situation through. He's built a base of support amongst the Senators from the neighborhoods bordering the Lake. These are the folks most adversely impacted by the activities of the witches. They are clamoring for a solution—and the only apparent solution is banishment. But what about all the citizens now under the spell of the witches? We'd be banishing them too. I'll introduce the possibility of banishment of the witches in tomorrow's Senate session. But I'll point out the excruciating dilemma of the impact on our poor, addicted citizens and the fact that we need a measured response. I'll point out that a reckless approach will just sunder the families who have lost their youth to the control of the witches. I'll propose a program to seize and reintegrate these Lakers. My son's support will erode rapidly."

It took Hemlock a few moments to digest what Samberlin had said.

"So you've decided on banishment, then?" she asked.

"It's the only solution at this point. These witches are predatory and a worse social problem than tea addiction. We have to make them leave the City."

"How long will you give them?"

"Seventy-two hours from tomorrow's speech."

"Samberlin, that's too soon."

"I remember you telling me they left their vale just one day before they arrived. They should be able to leave here with three days' notice."

He's got a point there. I don't like it, but how can I argue?

"Fine. I'll go tell Cassandra." She didn't try to fight the inevitable. "There'll be no violence, right?"

"As long as they leave peacefully, there will be no violence."

"You'll control Kantrell if necessary?"

"Yes," Samberlin promised.

Hemlock's thoughts turned to the suspected dealings between Samberlin and DuLoc.

Should I ask him? Would he answer truthfully? He might. But then he'd know that we know. If he's betrayed us, it might be better to keep him in the dark.

"Is there anything else?" Samberlin asked.

"No. I'll go have this conversation I've been dreading."

"There is one more matter I'd like to discuss." He held up a hand to stop her.

"Alright."

Samberlin leaned forward slightly, and his eyes flared with anger. "Exactly when were you planning to tell me about Falignus being back in the City?"

Hemlock stammered as she tried to think of a response.

"Don't bother denying it," he said.

"Samberlin, I realized that I needed him to help me against DuLoc. I knew people in the City would fear his return. So I figured I'd wait until the right moment to reveal him."

"The right moment? You bring one of the most divisive figures in recent memory back to the City and you wait for the right moment to tell people? Hemlock, this is a person who tried to kill you on multiple occasions—who tortured you in the Wizard Tower! Why in the world would you bring him back to the City?"

"It's complicated." She sighed and tried to explain everything. "Remember Amarank, the Earth Spirit? Her baby told me I needed the blood of the First Wizard and the Imperator to defeat DuLoc. It was pretty clear that I need Falignus."

"I see," said Samberlin coolly. "It's a logical conclusion if you believe the child had a basis for knowing that this requirement needed to be met. I assume it had some means to foretell the future?"

"It claimed to be prescient, yes."

"At least you appear to have made a rational choice. You do understand what this will do to City politics if this gets out, right? It may cause a Senate revolt against the Wizard Tower. There could be a conflict."

"I'm not going to tell anyone. How did you find out?"

"Hemlock, you should understand by now that I know everything there is to know."

Hemlock frowned. "How do we know nobody else will find out?"

"My sources are discrete. And very well compensated."

"Alright, good. So, while we're clearing the air, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Samberlin's eyebrows raised and he sat back in his chair. "No. Hmmm. Am I correct in guessing that you are referring to the rumors that the Senate has been having talks with DuLoc?"

Hemlock reddened. "So you don't deny it!"

"I absolutely deny it. I have heard these same rumors. I have agents investigating. So far, they are wholly unsubstantiated."

Hemlock began to fidget in her chair.

Can I trust him?

As she debated rising from her chair, the door behind her opened. She turned and saw Kantrell enter the room and close the door behind him. He walked slowly toward the chair beside Hemlock and sat heavily, slouching down with an air of indifference.

"This is rather unsubtle, Father," he said, looking off into space.

"Hemlock, meet my son, Kantrell," said Samberlin.

Hemlock nodded in Kantrell's direction as the young man looked down his nose at her. She noticed that while he was still attractive, there was a dynamic quality missing from his demeanor that had been present on the Senate floor. The man was less impressive in close quarters than his public persona had been.

"I've told the other Senators that I was coming in to demand an end to your private meetings," said Kantrell.

"That's amusing," said Samberlin.

"Oh? Not to those Senators outside!" Kantrell's voice grew louder.

"They're inflamed by your oratory, no doubt. You are improving in that area, son."

"Thank you, Father," said Kantrell. Hemlock was surprised that he sounded sincere.

These two make my relationship with Falignus look normal by comparison.

"Hemlock is going to tell the witches that I will deliver a speech tomorrow saying that they must vacate the City in three days' time," said Samberlin.

"Is that so? Will you capitulate so easily?" said Kantrell.

"I've tried to tell you that this has been my intention since we determined the witches are disruptive. But you've insisted on launching this campaign against me," said Samberlin as he grasped the desk in front of him.

"You keep cutting deals with her and the wizards without talking to the other Senators. It was only a matter of time before a leader galvanized them against you. Why shouldn't that leader be me?"

"The situation has been fluid. I've made reasonable efforts to keep everyone informed."

"You've stood by when we should be leading. You've been passive in the face of a weak wizard guild. This is our time to act. And I don't care if Hemlock hears this." Kantrell pointed at Hemlock before continuing. "You're done making decisions! Look how much damage your little pet project has done to the City. If DuLoc doesn't kill you, then you won't be welcome in government any longer!"

"That's fine with me," said Hemlock. "I'm done with government beyond what will be necessary to fight DuLoc."

"Never let a crisis go to waste, right? So you're saying you intend to use DuLoc as an excuse to retain power over us?" cried Kantrell.

Hemlock started to deny it, but as she thought more about it, she realized that she was willing to seize power if it was necessary to defeat DuLoc.

Kantrell interpreted her silence as agreement. He rose and shook his head from side to side, looking at her all the while. "Absolutely not! The Senate will not listen to you. You'll have to fight us in order to make us follow your orders."

"If it came to that, what I'd suggest would be in your best interest. You'd need me to coordinate the strategy. That's all I'm saying," said Hemlock.

"We are no longer vermin who cower in the shadow of the Wizard Tower. And I am not my father!" said Kantrell, balling his large hands into fists.

"Kantrell, calm yourself," said Samberlin.

Kantrell just glared at them both and then stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy door behind him.

"I'm sorry about that awkward display," said Samberlin.

"I think I understand him. He is ready to break from the past, but he doesn't understand the threat of DuLoc. He thinks I'm trying to repress the Senate, but I'm actually trying to save it!" Frustration was evident in Hemlock's tone.

"I understand that. I'll make the Senators understand it, too."

Will you? But what if you are talking to DuLoc?

"Alright," said Hemlock. "I'll go have my conversation with Cassandra. Please keep your son under control."

"Of course. Good luck with the witch—and remember the deadline. If they ignore it, I won't be able to guarantee their safety."

"I understand," said Hemlock, taking her leave of the chamber. As she strode across the floor of the Senate, she was relieved to see that the other senators had departed. She anticipated a stressful confrontation on the Lake and didn't want to deal with anything else in the interim.

Her thoughts turned to Kantrell. He was young and passionate.

How can I convince him to join me in the fight against DuLoc? He would be a powerful ally.

Still, there was something about the man that she found unattractive. He had many admirable qualities, but he lacked one important one―a sense of his own limitations. He possessed many of his father's best qualities and looked like a natural leader. He was tall and modestly handsome, and his voice and oratory were superior. But he seemed to think he was smarter than everyone else. Samberlin and Falignus both conducted themselves with a level of cocksure pride—but even they did so with more discretion than Kantrell did. And Hemlock was sure Kantrell wasn't as savvy as either of them.

...

A light breeze made the surface of Hemisphere Lake a little choppy, and the rowboat Hemlock had rented tossed back and forth gently as she moved through an array of small boats and pulled up beside Cassandra's gilded longship. A dense fog surrounded the outskirts of the Lake around her, but the sky was clear above, and the warmth of the morning sun was pleasant.

A familiar figure leaned out over the railing of the deck above her and lowered a wooden ladder. Hemlock grabbed the end of the ladder as she recognized the swarthy features of Faruk beaming down at her. He looked very happy to see her.

"What an unexpected pleasure this is!" said Faruk. "You have come yourself this time! I've missed seeing you since we arrived in the City. And not purely for sensual reasons. Things have been uncomfortable for us here. The Senate is constantly expressing their disapproval of us, and turning the people against us. Can you help us, Hemlock?"

Hemlock avoided looking at him for several moments as she climbed the ladder and reached the deck.

"Is it that bad, then?" he asked, interpreting her lack of a response.

"Pretty much," she said, meeting his eyes. He looked increasingly crestfallen as he digested the news. The frown that came over his face took some time to form—as if his features were wholly unaccustomed to aligning themselves in anything but a smile.

"Well, you must see Cassandra, then," he said, managing a weak smile after he said his mistresses' name.

He escorted Hemlock to an ornate door at the aft of the boat where there was a raised cabin with another deck atop it. Faruk knocked softly, and a gentle voice from behind the door replied, "Come in."

Faruk opened the door, and Hemlock entered behind him. The room was intricately carved with crown molding in the shapes of playful figures and painted in soft pastels. The floors and walls were made up of large, regular planks stained a deep, lustrous red. There were three four-post beds in the room. Two were occupied by male and female couples who were eating fruit in what appeared to be the haze of post-coital bliss.

A muscular, nude man stood beside the third bed gently fanning Cassandra, who lay naked upon the sheets. Her heavy-lidded eyes met Hemlock's and she became more alert, rising and donning a sheer robe that did little to conceal her ample figure.

"Ah, Cassandra, I regret the interruption, but a distinguished guest has arrived," said Faruk.

"I see that. I have been expecting you, Hemlock."

Hemlock looked around her at the scantily clad couples. "If this is you being expectant, then you must really let yourself go when you're not distracted."

Cassandra smiled in her dazzling way. "Of course."

"Hemlock, there is a place here for you. Just say the words," said Faruk.

Hemlock remembered the feeling of the lake water and looked over Faruk's chiseled features. It was an appealing idea—now more than ever. Then she thought of Falignus and experienced a pang of guilt for lusting after another man.

"I'm with someone now," she managed.

"Even better!" said Faruk.

Hemlock shook her head from side to side.

"I don't think she's ready yet, Faruk," said Cassandra.

"Such a pity," said Faruk, retreating somewhat and bowing to Hemlock.

"Friends, please leave us," said Cassandra to the couples. They rose reluctantly and left through the door behind Faruk.

Cassandra beckoned to Hemlock and motioned toward a pair of generously cushioned chairs. They both sat and looked at one another. Faruk sat on the bed behind Cassandra.

"I just met with Samberlin," said Hemlock.

"I judge from Faruk's bearing that he's had a preview of the news and it's not good," said Cassandra.

"Were you expecting good news?" Hemlock asked.

Cassandra sighed, and the effect on the witch's face reminded Hemlock of a cold wind spoiling a beautiful spring afternoon. "No, truth be told, I wasn't," said Cassandra. "The Senate has been increasingly hostile as we've attracted additional followers."

"Your followers seem to be recruiting more aggressively. Earlier this morning, I had to break up an incident in the Warrens. They threw lake water over a crowd of Tanna Varrans. There might have been violence if I hadn't been there."

Cassandra's eyes widened. "I will have to speak to them." Then she turned back toward Faruk. "And you need to stop emboldening them, Faruk."

Faruk stood abruptly. "I never told anyone to be violent. Cassandra, our only hope is to sway public opinion our way. We have to attract more followers—powerful ones who can influence the Senate. We can't do that by sitting here on the Lake and waiting. We have to move about the City."

"That's only going to make things worse. And things are already bad. You've got three days—seventy-two hours to be precise—after Samberlin's speech tomorrow. He has set a deadline for you to leave. If you don't, they'll force you out," said Hemlock.

The two witches paled at her words. Faruk slumped onto the bed. No words were exchanged for a few moments. Cassandra and Faruk looked at one another and seemed to have a conversation without words. Then Cassandra turned back toward Hemlock with a solemn look on her face.

"You realize this is practically a death sentence for many of our followers? We will have to cross the veil and search for a new home. As you know, we require water and a certain type of location. And who knows what type of people we'll encounter. They could be hostile. Our powers will probably become so diminished that we will no longer be able to support our followers. Many of them will die of sadness," said Cassandra.

"So you're saying they literally can't live without your pleasure magic?" asked Hemlock.

"The oldest ones, the weakest of mind, body, or spirit... They will not survive." Cassandra's eyes saddened.

Hemlock frowned. She felt terrible, but there was an obvious fact about the dilemma of the witches. Hemlock was powerless to stop it—at least if she held any hope of forming a coalition with the Senate to fight DuLoc. She said as much to Cassandra and Faruk.

"I figured as much. I thank you, Hemlock. I know you've taken risks for us and have been interested in our well-being when your companions around you called for our deaths. You can tell the Senate we will comply with their demand. There will not be violence."

"Thank you, Cassandra. I'm sorry things worked out like this. With the threat of DuLoc, it's been hard to deal with the Senate."

"I wondered when you'd mention him. Faruk has learned a lot about him from the rumors in the City. Assuming they are true, I'll leave you with a final thought to ponder. If you are fighting a supernatural enemy who wields magic that controls and compels people, then maybe you should seek the help of magical beings that liberate people from control," said Cassandra.

So this is her counter-move!

The concept seemed obvious now that the witch had pointed it out.

Can she really help me against DuLoc?

"What are you proposing?" said Hemlock.

"Perhaps you should let us stay in the City until you better understand how DuLoc will attack. Our powers seem to counteract his, and I think that could be useful to you."

Faruk was beaming as he watched for her reaction. Cassandra's expression was serene.

Hemlock looked from side to side, then up at the planked ceiling.

She's got my attention and she knows it. I'd better go think about this.

"I'll consider your point. But you'd better prepare for the worst," said Hemlock, rising from her chair.

"Of course," said Cassandra, standing to see Hemlock out.

Faruk followed Hemlock to the deck rail where the rope ladder hung down over Hemlock's boat. A flock of gulls cried overhead, and Faruk grabbed Hemlock's arm to steady her as she climbed over the side of the ship.

She looked up at Faruk as she climbed down.

"Faruk," she said. "Can you wield your pleasure magic over a distance? Can you force someone to feel good like I did when that enchanted water hit me?"

"You have no idea, Hemlock." Faruk spread his arms wide and smiled as he continued. "Imagine what you felt increased by a hundred-fold and cast over hundreds of yards. Imagine warriors dropping their weapons and forgetting their grievances and fear. We can do this for you. Tell your Samberlin and make him reconsider his deadline."

"I'll talk to him, but no guarantees!" Hemlock situated herself in the boat.

"Sadly, there rarely are," said Faruk, waving goodbye with a saucy smile.
Chapter Three

Otticus stood in the cavern outside the underground door of the Wizard Tower. He was packed for his journey to reconnoiter the Eastern Mountains and flush out any Senate agents that might be communicating with DuLoc. He would meet the Tanna Varran known as Rulwher outside the City limits. The Tanna Varran would have a pair of the distinctive flying wings waiting for them. These would greatly speed their journey.

Merit, Renevos, and Miara had accompanied Otticus this far to wish him a farewell.

"Be careful, Otticus. No unnecessary heroics. Just get the information we need and get out of there. And if you don't see anything after a couple days, just come back," said Miara.

She sounds like a worried mother. But I lived through a quest with Hemlock and the battle of Castle Stargis. And I've got the teleport runes.

As if reading his mind, Renevos spoke up. "Avoid using the runes in the air. We never tested that."

"Sure," said Otticus, checking his gear to avoid making eye contact with them.

"Otticus, I read something interesting in one of Zaringer's books last night. Apparently, there's some kind of temple where the Seekers go to restore their powers. It's supposed to look like a dome supported by stone columns. I couldn't tell where it was exactly, but if you see anything like that, you'd better leave the area," said Merit.

"Or go investigate," said Otticus. "Maybe there's some way to kill them all in there."

"No, Otticus!" said Miara, grasping his arm firmly as she spoke. "Stick to the plan. Stay hidden and observe. That's all you need to do."

"Fine," said Otticus, trying to sound convincing. He knew that if he saw that temple, he'd investigate it.

It's what Hemlock would do.

"And keep working with the Tanna Varran spear. Tored says Rulwher is a fine warrior. Those spears are the most effective weapon against the undead," said Renevos.

Otticus began to tire of the advice. "It's getting late. Take care of things while I'm gone," he said, moving toward the passage that would take him to the surface.

"Come here, you!" said Renevos, giving him a rough hug. He had to suffer through another hug from Miara and a solemn handshake from Merit before he could take his leave.

Soon, the soft echo of his footsteps on the cool stone floor were his only company. He felt relieved and excited that the mission was finally underway.

He made his way through the caverns and savored the silence that enveloped him. As he walked, he thought about the rock walls surrounding him. When he had inspected them closely as a young initiate wizard, he could see that the rock was porous. It was a barrier, but when considered in detail, there were ways through if one was small enough. He hoped for a similar outcome on his upcoming mission.

Tored had told him that Rulwher understood stealth and was an accomplished tracker. But the Tanna Varran didn't know the eastern mountains. Otticus had been there several times over the years and knew something of the landscape and the basic layout of the settlements, but he was no expert either. Miara had drawn him a detailed map of the region, and Otticus had committed it to memory. Merit had also penciled in a few notes, including the suspected location of the temple he had warned about.

The Seekers were Otticus' biggest concern. Agents of the Wizard Tower had reported that Jalis and DuLoc were using the undead wizards to patrol the perimeter around the mining settlement of Gravis, where their headquarters were rumored to be located.

Otticus was heartened by his knowledge that Rulwher was an expert on dealing with the undead.

Soon, he reached the locked portal that led to the surface. He had a wild impulse to use his teleportation runes but quickly tempered the urge, aware that his reckless feeling could cost him his life if someone or something happened to be on the other side of the door.

He stopped and wondered at the source of the impulse. The regimented life he led in the Wizard Tower seemed palpable as he left it behind. And he was glad to be rid of it. He realized that he'd been unhappy since returning from his quest with Hemlock. The expedition that led to the Battle of Castle Stargis had been a welcome diversion, but even that had taken place under the watchful eye of Gwineval and Brannor, head of the First Circle. When he'd been with Hemlock, he'd felt truly free for the first time in his life. Even though Hemlock and Tored had commanded him at times, he'd had considerable latitude. He resolved to talk to her once he returned from his current quest to reconnoiter the mountains. He had to convince her to allow him to join her on her future adventures.

He realized that the few minutes he'd spent on introspection might make him late for his rendezvous with Rulwher. He quickly proceeded through the locked door and up the rock stairs that led to the avenue surrounding Hemisphere Lake. The ever-present clouds that obscured the lake made him shake his head. But he did have to resist an urge to seek out the witch Cassandra. He wondered what he might have experienced that night in the Tanna Varran vale if Hemlock hadn't urged him to avoid joining the witches and their revelries. He was certain he'd missed out on many pleasures, but the thought of becoming one of the Lakers made him shudder. He grudgingly admitted to himself that Hemlock's council may have been wise after all.

He pulled the hood of his long cloak down to better obscure his features. He'd used an invisibility spell to exit the stairwell but that would be wearing off in moments. He made for the corner of a nearby vending stall that was selling tanning ointment for the beach goers. He ducked in a shadowy area beside the stall as the spell wore off, hoping nobody noticed his sudden appearance amongst the light crowd of people who walked along the curved avenue beside the Lake and the streets that met it like spokes extending from the inside of a wheel.

He looked down at his own hand as it changed from the gray, grainy appearance he perceived while under the effects of the spell to natural flesh tones. He stood slowly and calmly walked into the flows of people moving by. If anyone had noticed him, they'd had no audible reaction. It had been a relatively clean transition, and he'd saved spell energy for anything that might happen later in the day once he and Rulwher began their mission.

Otticus walked to the north and stayed beside the Lake until he reached its northern extent. He then walked along the avenue that separated the Warrens from the Elite district. A white-washed wall separated the two neighborhoods, and he proceeded under its shadow. Children wearing dirty rags that barely functioned as clothing played in the street just a stone's throw away from the manicured buildings that rose above the wall. They were stained a pure white and bedecked with floral accents and brightly-colored awnings on every story.

Eventually, he reached the limit of the Elite district, and the wall turned sharply away from him, leaving sparse grassland to his north. Several clusters of makeshift buildings marked the limits of the Warrens district to the west. He had left the City.

He continued to walk toward the first hill that rose gently to a modest height in front of him. Rulwher had agreed to wait for him on the other side of it. He chanced a glance behind him with his hand on his hood to make sure it didn't reveal his face. A few children were looking at him, but he didn't seem to have attracted any other unwanted attention.

He walked for several more minutes before taking a moment to cast a small spell to make his cloak blend in with the color of his surroundings. He wouldn't be noticed from the City now, and he hoped his exit had been unobserved. Miara had urged him to maintain the invisibility spell until he reached the other side of the nearby hill, but he'd chosen otherwise. He wanted to save as much energy as possible for his teleportation runes. And Miara didn't always know everything, he thought defiantly.

He reached the hill and walked around its base, gradually circling to the other side. He saw a man sitting at the base of the hill with two large packs on the ground beside him. Otticus waved and the man rose. Rulwher was tall like Tored and looked similarly aged. But where Tored had abandoned the practice of wearing the blue chalk on his skin, Rulwher continued to do so. Rulwher was muscular―but less so than Tored―and he had a paunch around his midsection in contrast to Tored, who had maintained an athletic physique despite his age.

Otticus' pulse stirred a bit as he inspected the large packs. He knew these contained the Tanna Varran wings, which he'd so enjoyed when he'd last used them.

Reaching the taller man, Otticus greeted him.

Rulwher knelt and opened one of the packs, unstrapping a large spear from the side.

"I was told you're familiar with their use?" said Rulwher in a gravelly voice, pointing to the exposed wing in the open pack.

"Yes," said Otticus, feeling offended by the other man's failure to greet him.

"Your spear is here as well. I understand you want to train with it?"

"Yes. Has it been enchanted?"

"It has. I took it to the best shaman in the City and had it blessed."

Otticus picked up the spear and took stock of how it felt in his hand. He much preferred the feel of a short sword. He had trained with the sword for years, making the spear feel large and unwieldy in comparison. But he remembered Tored's insistence that he train with the weapon.

"It's a thrusting weapon, but it can also be used to keep an opponent at bay. You can parry with the shaft by holding it before you with two hands, and you can also make a slashing attack by extending it as you twirl your body. But, against the undead, the thrust is the preferred method of attack," said Rulwher.

Otticus tried to mimic the graceful movements Rulwher had made with the spear. But he felt clumsy doing so. Rulwher approached him and guided him through another sequence of moves.

"Ghosts move slowly, but sometimes they phase in and out and can blink several feet in any direction without warning," said Rulwher.

"Wait, are the Seekers the same as your Tanna Varran ghosts?"

"Close enough. I've discussed this with Tored, who has talked to other wizards."

"I can blink too, you know."

Rulwher met Otticus with a steady stare that suggested he was waiting for further explanation.

"It's a special tattoo I have. I can teleport. So, if a Seeker blinks away, I should be able to follow it."

"Don't concern yourself with that," said Rulwher. "It's when they blink toward you that you must worry. It can bring them in close for an unopposable strike. Worse still is when they can touch or embrace you. Their touch can paralyze."

"I'll just blink out of the way if that happens."

"It happens quickly and without warning. I doubt you'll have time to react even with your special ability. You must use your spear to keep them at bay. The magic is strongest in the tip but some does extend down the shaft. You can parry a ghost's attack with it."

Rulwher guided Otticus through a few more exercises and then he posed as a Seeker and forced Otticus to defend himself with the blunt end of the spear. Otticus was surprised by the fluid movements of the old warrior, although it was clear that some of his moves were slowed by his bulky midsection.

Soon, Otticus began to tire of the training. When Rulwher made a lunging attack, Otticus activated a speed rune tattoo and dashed behind the older man. Otticus smirked when Rulwher whirled and went low for a diving attack. It was easy for Otticus to avoid, and he stood back as the Tanna Varran picked himself up and dusted off.

Rulwher shook his head disapprovingly and he walked toward his pack. "I understand you have a map." Rulwher stated more than asked with his back turned away from Otticus.

"Yes," said Otticus, retrieving the document and giving it to Rulwher.

Rulwher's frown became deeper, and he pointed to a part of the map. There was a feature on the map that looked like a skeletal hand pointing beside it. It blended in with the other mountains drawn on the parchment, but Merit had circled it with chalk. "What is this location that's circled?"

"That is supposed to be the general location of some sort of temple that the Seekers use as a base. We should probably check it out."

"Tored didn't mention it. I thought we were trying to avoid the ghosts."

"They are a significant part of DuLoc's army. If we can neutralize them somehow, then our fight against DuLoc will be that much easier," Otticus explained.

"But they will be numerous there. It will be very hazardous."

"Yes, but we have the wings. The Seekers don't fly, and it's a mountainous area. We should be able to observe their base safely and maybe we'll spot a weakness."

"We're supposed to be looking for Senate agents," said Rulwher.

"And we will be. This is on our way to Gravis," said Otticus, pointing at the map.

Rulwher returned the map to Otticus. "Ghosts are something like insects. They tend to swarm around their hives. Your plan would lead us toward certain death."

"Look, these aren't the ghosts you keep referring to. These are undead wizards who have been poring over the mountains for decades, looking for artifacts left behind by the Imperator. They won't be swarming around this temple, should it even exist. More than likely, they'll be with DuLoc and Jalis in Gravis or even farther away."

"I didn't endure the fall of my clan and banishment from my homeland just to walk into this suicidal mission."

Otticus felt his face reddening and turned toward the pack Rulwher had brought for him. "Fine! I'll go by myself, then. I have the wings. That's what I really needed from you. Go back to the safety of the City, and don't delay me any longer."

Suddenly, a strong hand spun him roughly around, and Rulwher got close to his face. "Are you calling me a coward?" hissed the Tanna Varran.

Otticus barely restrained himself from using his strength rune to pummel Rulwher. He managed to maintain his composure and replied, "No, I'm not. I just want to get on with this. Are you coming or not?"

Rulwher's eyes softened a bit, and he seemed to consider the question. "I will join you. But only because Tored would wish me to. If you are determined to kill yourself, then I will at least try to keep you alive long enough to reconsider."

Otticus began to strap on his wings as Rulwher moved to his pack and began to gather up some of his belongings that were sitting on the ground beside his pack. Otticus immediately noticed a small teapot along with a cup and the remnants of a small fire Rulwher had apparently used to warm the drink. Seeing this allowed him to detect the faint scent of a well-known hallucinogenic tea in the air.

"Were you doing that right before I got here?" he asked accusingly.

"You need not worry about it," growled Rulwher.

"Does Tored know you do this?" asked Otticus, hardly able to believe his partner on this dangerous mission would dare to indulge himself like he apparently had. Worse yet was the prospect that he was an addict.

Rulwher didn't answer this time.

"Are you going to do it again?"

Rulwher turned and engaged Otticus in a steady stare. "And what if I do? Will it make you not want me to accompany you on this mission? If that's the case, then so be it."

Otticus was about to answer yes. The response was on the tip of his tongue. But then he remembered Tored and the combat training with the spear. He remembered the need to recharge the wings and recalled that he didn't know how to do that on his own. It would mean he'd be on foot for his return trip―an unpleasant circumstance to say the least. He wondered whether he could return to the City and ask Tored for a different companion. But he feared Miara might reconsider allowing him to undertake the mission. And then he thought of the glory he'd lose by not having that opportunity.

"I need you," said Otticus gruffly.

Rulwher paused for just a moment and then turned back to the task of loading his pack.

After a few minutes had passed, Rulwher was ready, but Otticus was still struggling to get his wings on properly. After some assistance from Rulwher, the wings were properly fitted and the two launched into the air and turned east.

Otticus took a look at the City behind him as he soared. He could see the wall of mist around Hemisphere Lake, but it left the interior of the lake open to the sky. He saw a large ship and several boats on the water. He thought about the beauty of Cassandra and lustful thoughts began to enter his mind. He shook his head and turned back to the east.

_No time for that when I'm about to confront the Seekers_.

He looked at the tall mountain peaks in the distance, their snowy caps offsetting their brown bases like a shock of white hair on a stocky old man. They were massive and imposing. It made him think of DuLoc and his reputation. Hemlock and Tored talked about DuLoc like he was as ancient and powerful as those mountain peaks, but Otticus didn't share their caution about battling him.

Otticus had faith in Hemlock and Tored, and he hadn't encountered anything that he felt they couldn't handle. Even Amarank, the Earth Spirit they'd encountered in the Witch Crags, had been no match for Hemlock.

_I wish Penelope had come with us_ , Otticus suddenly thought. Miara had told Otticus that Hemlock had refused to ask the Griffin to return to the mountains because she was worried about the Seekers ambushing her again. Otticus had to concede that if the Seekers had spells to locate the Griffin, then she could prove to be a liability instead of an asset. Still, the bulk and power of the beast would have been a welcome reassurance.

He looked ahead at Rulwher and shook his head. As if reading his thought, Rulwher looked back and their eyes met. Rulwher frowned and turned forward again. Otticus realized he didn't trust the man despite the recommendation from Tored.

_Maybe Rulwher has changed and Tored doesn't realize it_.

As they flew, they stayed to the north of the long road that stretched between the City and the mountain settlement named Gravis. Otticus knew that Gravis lay in a valley nestled in the western part of the high mountains. The road leading to it rose gradually along a series of remarkably straight slopes. The Seeker's temple was supposed to be located in the cluster of smaller mountains that lay between the high peaks and the hills that were closest to the distant City.

After a few hours of flying, Otticus and Rulwher reached a region of rolling hills. The round, distinct hills passed below him in a monotonous blur. Each peak and valley was similarly sized and spaced, and the overall effect was startlingly uniform.

Soon, that uniformity gave way to greater variance in both diameter and height. Rulwher climbed higher in response to the increase in elevation, and Otticus followed. Overall, Otticus estimated their distance over the highest peaks to be about a half mile.

After another hour, some of the tallest hills below them began to peak in bare rock devoid of soil or foliage. The sides of these rocky hills were dense with crevices and caves. There were also frequent pockets of trees. These features provided a lot of ground cover, and Otticus was concerned about being observed by unseen eyes.

He motioned to Rulwher and flew up beside him.

"When do we land?" he shouted over the din of the passing air.

"Another hour," shouted Rulwher.

That hour passed slowly, and Otticus' fears about being observed became stronger and stronger. The size of the hills around them was steadily increasing as they travelled, and many looked more like small mountains than hills. He noticed a caravan in the distance on the road to the south, but it quickly passed out of sight. Otticus and Rulwher were flying far enough to the north that people on the road were becoming increasingly difficult to spot because the intervening trees made the small silhouettes of people very difficult to detect. And the large hills adjacent to the road obscured more and more of it. Otticus wondered whether anyone on the road had seen them flying. He hoped the clouds that had rolled in over the past hour were helping them blend into the late morning sky.

After what seemed an interminable wait to Otticus, Rulwher motioned toward a large, flat hill nestled within three surrounding peaks. Otticus was anxious to descend, and he leaned forward into a steep dive. But a sharp yell from Rulwher made him pull up. Rulwher was descending in a shallow dive as he circled the clearing below. The Tanna Varran was cautiously scanning their surroundings, and for the first time since their argument, Otticus felt glad that Rulwher was with him.

Eventually, the slow descent culminated in a quick landing. Before Otticus even had his wings off, Rulwher had already started chanting over his own pair. Otticus felt the unfamiliar tingling sensation of the Tanna Varran's wild magic as it recharged the wings. Rulwher grunted and extended his hand. Otticus handed the man his wings as Rulwher continued his spell.

When Rulwher was done, he placed Otticus' wings on the ground and moved over to his pack. The Tanna Varran produced a small kettle from his pack and began to gather kindling for a fire.

"Are you serious?" said Otticus.

Rulwher met him with a steely stare.

"You can't seriously be making more tea!"

Rulwher continued to prepare the tea.

Otticus shook his head. He knew that if he followed his impulse and kicked the kettle over, Rulwher would leave. And he appreciated more than ever that he needed Rulwher. So, instead of confronting him, Otticus walked to the far side of the hilltop. A hawk cried overhead, and that cry echoed over the hilltop and between the surrounding peaks. Otticus was suddenly aware of how isolated he and Rulwher were.

He glanced back at Rulwher, and the Tanna Varran warrior was unexpectedly on his feet and strapping on his wings. Otticus hadn't even eaten yet, so he felt incredulous at the sudden departure, but then he noted the strained look on Rulwher's face. Something was wrong.

Otticus ran back toward his wings and began to put them on. When Rulwher came to help him again, Otticus asked him what was going on.

"We are being watched," said Rulwher.

"By whom? The Seekers?"

"It could be. I feel an echo of life in this area—like the passage of restless souls. It could be a natural thing. I know there have been recent deaths in Gravis. But we are fairly far from there, and it's also a warning sign for ghosts. We need to be very cautious."

Otticus was hungry, and he realized he was tired of flying. "Are you being too cautious? I know it feels weird and lonely here, but it seems quiet. We can probably spare a few more minutes here. I'd love to eat something."

Rulwher began to redden and looked like he was about to issue a stern rebuke, but then his features softened gradually in a way that suggested his fears were fading as well. "Perhaps you're right," he said after a minute.

Otticus turned toward his pack and what he hoped was still a delicious deer meat sandwich he had packed for himself when something struck him as odd. The strange feeling of isolation he'd first felt when they landed on the hilltop was actually more intense than before. But for some reason, he didn't feel as concerned about it. Something had changed his perception over the past few minutes—and Rulwher's, too.

He stopped in his tracks. Instead of opening his pack, he slung it over his shoulder and picked up his wings. He turned back toward Rulwher as slowly as he could. He felt sure something was stalking them. He feared making any sudden movement that might alarm it.

"Rulwher!" he hissed. The Tanna Varran looked over at him languidly. "Take off! Now!" Otticus hissed more loudly.

Casting aside the pretense of a relaxed demeanor, Otticus pulled the straps of his wings on as quickly as he could.

A sharp, piercing cry rang out over the hilltop. It sounded like it was far enough away that Otticus didn't bother to look. He finished strapping on his wings and then took off as quickly as he could. Only after he'd been airborne for a few seconds did he take the time to look for Rulwher. The Tanna Varran had beat him into the air and was soaring slightly above Otticus. Rulwher pointed down toward the hilltop.

A shuffling figure with a longsword stood in the very spot Otticus had recently vacated. The creature looked up at them, and Otticus shuddered when he saw the faded ivory of a skeletal face glaring at him rather than a creature of flesh and blood.

He flew close to Rulwher, so they could shout to one another as they flew east and away from the hilltop.

"I told you they are wizards," said Otticus.

"They are hard to detect, even for me," said Rulwher.

Suddenly, something caught Otticus' eye to the north. It was an oddly shaped mountain several miles away. Otticus pointed toward it.

"Let's investigate that!" he shouted over the wind rushing past them.

Rulwher shook his head. Otticus despaired. He couldn't reason with the Tanna Varran while being buffeted by wind and shouting. And he needed the warrior's assistance.

But this is also important—maybe more important than my main mission.

"Farewell!" Otticus shouted as he turned north.

He resisted looking back as he flew away from Rulwher. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of revealing his uncertainty. But just as the urge to look was becoming overwhelming, he detected a motion in his peripheral vision to the right. A sense of relief flooded over him as he saw that Rulwher had decided to follow him after all.

Soon, the unusual mountain came into better view. He saw the suggestion of some type of shape in it, although it appeared to be naturally formed. He banked to the east again, and as he retreated, the other side of the mountain came into better view. It looked like a huge, skeletal finger on the end of a crude hand.

Otticus flew closer to Rulwher and nearly ran into him in his excitement. "It's from the map!" he shouted, pointing at the unusual formation.

Rulwher studied it for a moment and then nodded in recognition.

"The temple must be around here," said Otticus.

Otticus soared around the peak he believed matched the hand shown on the map. As he flew, he scanned the area, looking for the temple. Rulwher flew slightly behind and appeared to be looking for the temple as well.

They flew for several minutes until the part of the mountain peak that looked like an outstretched finger was pointing almost directly at them. Otticus was surprised to see Rulwher suddenly flying close and trying to get his attention. Rulwher pointed to the northwest.

Otticus looked where Rulwher was pointing, but all he saw at first glance was a number of normal looking mountain peaks. He looked at Rulwher again and the Tanna Varran pointed down again. Otticus returned his attention to the area Rulwher pointed to. He still didn't see anything unusual. The peaks were fairly slender, and there was one that was taller than the rest. He didn't see anything else.

But as he was turning back toward Rulwher, he did a double take at the tallest slender peak he had just looked at. The peak looked normal, but he caught a glimpse of something unusual around the midpoint of the base and the peak. He looked closer and veered in a direction that would afford a better vantage point.

What he saw astonished him. It looked like the entire mountain above the midpoint was raised over an open area and supported by columns. The open area was at least a hundred feet tall. He couldn't see inside it at his height and distance, but he did notice a great stairway descending from the open area down toward the floor of the adjoining valley.

"That has to be it!" he shouted.

Rulwher was still beside him. "We found it! Now to Gravis," yelled the warrior.

"No! I'm going down," said Otticus.

Rulwher shook his head violently. "Too dangerous."

"I'm doing it."

Otticus started a gentle descent into the valley beside the strange mountain. He flew toward the side of the valley farthest from the suspected temple, hoping to land in relative secrecy. As he descended, he was once again relieved to see Rulwher beside him.

The two of them landed hard due to the urgency of their descent. They didn't immediately remove their wings. Fortunately, Otticus had chosen the landing site wisely. A gently sloped hill provided cover from the mysterious gap in the mountain.

"I feel the same sensation I felt in that last ambush. Except it's stronger by tenfold!" hissed Rulwher.

"I have to get in there," said Otticus.

"Are you truly mad? We are dealing with invisible, spell-casting skeletons. These are worse than the ghosts of my homeland!"

"I tried to tell you that before," said Otticus.

Rulwher spoke with an air of forced calm. "Look, we've found the temple. You can report this to Hemlock and let her deal with it. Our mission is to go to Gravis."

Otticus crept a few steps until he was able to see the temple opening from their vantage point. Two figures were climbing the long stairway. They were both dressed in hooded robes that made identification difficult.

"Look!" cried Otticus.

Rulwher grunted when he saw the figures.

Otticus continued excitedly. "Our mission isn't in Gravis anymore. It's here. That could be a Senate messenger! I need to get in there and investigate."

Rulwher grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip. "I draw the line here. I've indulged your folly to this point, but what you're proposing is suicide."

Otticus shook off the larger man's grip easily. Rulwher was bulkier, but Otticus' densely knotted muscles made him stronger than most. Rulwher looked surprised by the feat of strength.

"You don't have to stay. Fly back and report on our progress. If I...don't make it...tell Hemlock about the Temple," said Otticus.

Rulwher frowned deeply. Otticus could see the man struggling against his better judgment. "How will you enter unseen? Will you teleport?" Rulwher finally asked through clenched teeth.

"Yes. You stay here. If I get detected, maybe you can create a diversion and buy me some time to escape."

Rulwher nodded, and Otticus returned his attention to the gap in the mountain. The two figures had nearly reached the top of the stairs. He watched as they completed their climb and then disappeared into the shadowy interior of the space.

"They didn't look like Seekers," said Otticus.

Rulwher grunted his agreement.

"I don't see any Seekers anywhere else, either. I guess that doesn't mean much since I still have that odd feeling of unease. But I'll use my teleport. If the Seekers see me, at least I won't be in one place for too long."

Otticus made to rise, but Rulwher stopped him.

"Good luck," said the Tanna Varran brusquely, but Otticus saw sincerity in the old warrior's eyes.

"Thanks," said Otticus as he concentrated his will and directed his attention to a small nook in the rock floor about a hundred yards away. He felt a warm sensation on his arms as his runes flared with power and then his head swam for a moment.

Suddenly, the rock around him was unfamiliar and he stumbled to the ground, cutting his knee. He cursed under his breath as he regained his footing. He crouched in a fissure in the rock and recoiled into the shadow. The top of Rulwher's head poked up from cover about a hundred yards behind him. Then Otticus turned and faced the stairs. The lowest steps were still a few more teleports away.

He risked a few appraising glances over the intervening terrain before he settled on the spots he would teleport to. But he was more worried about what he would do when he reached the stairs. The stairway was too high for him to teleport to the top in one blink. He was going to have to materialize on the stairs themselves, take a few moments to recharge, and then blink again to get up to the top. Even more worrisome was the realization that he would have to teleport blindly to the top. He realized that it made more sense to climb the final distance to the top of the stairs and risk detection. At least he'd have a recharged teleport ready once he got there if he took that approach.

He steeled himself and teleported again. This time, he managed to avoid injury, and a quick look around showed that he still hadn't been detected. He blinked to his final teleport destination and then turned his attention to the stairs. They were more awe inspiring up close. They were almost bone colored, and Otticus found himself imagining that climbing them would take him directly to some mythical underworld.

Suddenly feeling vulnerable, he looked behind him. Rulwher, now about a quarter mile away, was not visible even though Otticus knew where he was hiding. After a few moments of looking, he did manage to catch a glimpse of the Tanna Varran, and Otticus felt reassured. This new self-assurance made him feel certain that prudence would be wisest, and he decided to risk waiting several minutes to reconnoiter the stairs for additional activity. The only change as he waited was the ebb and flow of a cold wind that whipped through the forlorn valley.

He took a final look around him before returning his attention to the stairway. He saw nothing notable. Gathering himself, he concentrated again and blinked to a point on the middle of the stairs. The first thing he noticed was that the wind was stronger at this elevation. If he had felt vulnerable before, he now felt positively naked. He was sure every eye in the valley was on him. He hoped that would only be Rulwher's eyes, but common sense suggested otherwise.

He forced himself to stand tall instead of trying to cower. It was not easy to do. He immediately realized he wouldn't dare climb the stairs as he had planned, instead deciding to risk the blind teleport. As he held his upright posture, he looked up and began to scan the opening at the top of the stairs for a destination for his next blink. He could see more detail in the opening from his new vantage point. Some sort of flashing light was emanating from the interior part of the space that was not visible to him. This yellow-orange light cast a series of carved columns in backlight, exaggerating the features of the hideous undead visages that had been carefully rendered on them. Otticus was shaken but not surprised. He had been around for the final years of the reign of Falignus and the Seventh Circle of Magic. The images on the columns were reminiscent of scenes of death magic he had witnessed in the Tower when he had seen things he hadn't been intended to see.

As soon as he felt sufficiently renewed from his previous blink, he invoked the power of his teleport runes again and was instantly transported to a point beside one of the large stone columns. He materialized about three feet above the ground and fell hard onto the stone floor. The wind was even stronger at this higher elevation, and the open sides of the huge chamber did nothing to impede it. Though he was just at the edge of the mysteriously excavated space with open air a mere handful of feet behind him, the sensation of being underneath the suspended weight of an entire mountaintop was palpable.

He could see little except for the corpse-like sculpture leering above him on the column. He peered to each side of his location and could see similar columns flanking him along the rough circumference of the open area. He paused for a moment to see if he could hear anything. There was a steady mechanical sound coming from the interior of the space. Other than that and periodic gusts of wind he didn't hear anything.

He swung his body around the bottom of the column to get a better look at the space. He immediately saw a large, circular hole in the center of the floor. The source of the light was below floor level. He couldn't see the source itself, but the light it cast was projected on the ceiling. He could see that the pulsing from the stairs was actually a series of shadows moving across the light. After another moment, he realized they were silhouettes of men in various horrific poses spinning round and round.

He saw figures in the distance. They were on the far side of the open area and walking slowly around the far perimeter. One was noticeably taller than the other, and their arms made gestures to underscore their words as they walked and spoke to one another.

Otticus made another check of the area and didn't see any other movement.

I have to get closer and hear what they are saying.

He chose a column and waited until the two figures had walked past it. He activated his blink power, and as he arrived, he narrowly avoided falling over by steadying himself on the now adjacent column. The clarity and proximity of the voice he heard next made the success of his blink evident.

"Do you think Hemlock will be moved to violence if we do this?" asked a man with a high-pitched, nasal voice that Otticus immediately recognized.

Jalis.

"It's hard to say for sure, but I don't think she'd attack with all of the Senators and observers there," responded a man with a deeper voice that Otticus didn't recognize.

"She's hot headed," said Jalis.

"She seems less so now and more resigned to a battle with DuLoc. Yet, she still seems to influence my father. I don't understand why. Perhaps he's grown weak-minded in his old age," said the deeper voice.

"Samberlin? Weak-minded? Surely you misspeak. About your own father, no less."

This man is Samberlin's son, Kantrell? This is the Senate agent I've been looking for.

Otticus felt triumphant. He'd followed his gut instinct, and it had led him to a spectacular success. But he didn't feel ready to leave. He still needed to look into the pit in the center of the room to see what was casting the light and shadows. He hoped it would help him understand how to defeat the Seekers.

A clear, melodic voice at his flank startled him. "And what do we have here?" The question was loud enough for the other two men to hear.

Otticus didn't bother to look behind him. He concentrated on the column he had most recently crouched next to before his last blink and activated his power again.

In the next instant, he was on the other side of the open area, listening intently. He needed to wait at least a minute before his next blink. Even worse, he was beginning to tire from the repeated use of power. And he had seen first-hand that using the blink with insufficient power had deadly results for the caster.

Suddenly, a shrill cry rang out from the valley below, answered by another cry and then another. Otticus felt a pang of fear as he realized that the cries sounded like they had come from a location very close to where he had left a hiding Rulwher.

He looked down and his worst fears were confirmed. Rulwher was engaged in melee with two skeletal figures, and he saw another one scuttling across a nearby rock and approaching the battle.

"It seems your friend has been discovered," said the same clear voice from just a few feet behind him.

Otticus jumped to his feet and brandished his spear.

A man of average height stood before him with a sardonic look on his face. He wore a blue waistcoat with a ruffled shirt of antiquated appearance. He had a full head of blond curly locks that overflowed from under a blue tricorne hat. A sheathed sword was on his waist, but he was open-handed.

"DuLoc," muttered Otticus.

"Yes. And you are?"

I can't risk a blink, yet. I have to stall.

"An interested observer," said Otticus.

He heard the sound of running feet from the other side of the opening.

"Who's there, my lord?" shouted Jalis, still some distance away.

DuLoc ignored Jalis and responded to Otticus.

"Don't be coy with me, young man. You're a pretty little thing, but my patience will only last so long, mmm?"

Just a few more seconds, and I'll risk it.

"You're DuLoc, right? The great and powerful? Don't you already know who I am?"

DuLoc chuckled as the sound of the other men's footfalls approached. "Aren't you the bold one? I confess to finding you quite amusing, but there is some protocol to be observed here. I can't help but conclude that you are a spy from the City sent to check on us and report back. Do you deny it?"

Otticus imagined the middle of the stairway where he had blinked a few minutes before. He energized his runic tattoos and the next thing he saw was the wide-open air of the valley. He saw a winged figure in the air and realized that Rulwher hadn't been able to wait for him. But he had survived.

Dashing down the stairs as quickly as he could, Otticus risked a glance backward and saw DuLoc looking down at him from the top of the stairway. Jalis and Kantrell stood behind the unusually dressed man.

Otticus invoked his shield runes and prepared himself for a blast spell that he was sure would soon be cast at him from behind.

All I have to do is hold out until I can blink again. One more blink, and I can reach my wings.

He noticed Rulwher was descending gently toward him and tried to wave him off as he ran. Otticus knew he was now beyond Rulwher's help.

He heard two sharp claps of lightning behind him, and he flinched in expectation of the impact. But it never came. Instead, he saw the bolts pass high overhead. One passed harmlessly to the side of Rulwher, but the other struck the Tanna Varran.

Otticus felt physically ill as he watched Rulwher lose control and hurtle toward the unforgiving rock below him. After a few more agonizing seconds, Rulwher hit hard some distance away at a speed Otticus knew had been fatal. He choked down a cry as he continued to jump down the stairs.

Just another minute until I can blink!

But, suddenly, DuLoc was there on the steps not twenty yards below him. DuLoc's hands were full of a white fire that gave off no smoke.

Otticus didn't think, he just acted. He blinked toward his hiding spot where the wings were waiting. As he materialized, he felt an odd sensation, like his whole body was being stretched to the point it would tear but then somehow snapped back into its proper shape. He landed hard on the rock, howling in pain.

He wasn't sure how long it took him to reorient himself, but the first thing he became conscious of was DuLoc standing over him, smiling.

"He's right here!" yelled DuLoc.

Suddenly, he felt a dreadful chill at his side. He rolled over and tried to kneel, but a hard kick knocked him back down. He felt another chilling presence at his other side. When he looked up, two icy blades were pointed at him. The wielders of the blades regarded him with vacant eye sockets that somehow communicated a sense of malevolence though there was no flesh to form any expression.

"You're an interesting one," said DuLoc, who was suddenly leaning overhead. "We can't have you blinking away again."

Next, there was a flash and then everything went black.

Cold, smooth stone was the first thing Otticus became aware of. The next was a whirring sound that eventually restored his memory of recent events. The regular sound he had heard inside the hollowed-out mountaintop temple was louder than he remembered. He opened his eyes to slits that he hoped would mask his return to consciousness. The ghostly silhouettes he had seen projected onto the ceiling of the wide chamber were now rotating along the gently up-curved floor that rose around him like he was laying inside of a bowl.

"He's awake," said Jalis at some indeterminate distance.

"What a pity for him," said DuLoc in his dulcet tones.

Otticus immediately pictured his recent hiding spot beside one of the columns that ringed the open space and activated his blink power. Suddenly, a hot, searing pain engulfed him, and he howled in agony.

DuLoc laughed and said, "Oh, that's just a start to your trial, young man."

Otticus' writhing had left him facing the other way. He could now see the source of the silhouettes around him. There was a spinning golden ball that hovered about ten feet above the floor of the bowl. The ball had a metallic frame but much if its surface was glass. Within the glass, he could see a number of fleshy chunks tumbling over each other and glowing with a brilliant light that was responsible for the shadows he'd seen. The shadows were being cast by ten score desiccated figures that were arrayed in a wide circle facing the spinning ball. The figures didn't move but their shadowy silhouettes did.

Otticus knew he was looking at the mortal vestiges of the Seekers.

He next noticed the familiar, dark shape of a law magic obelisk no more than ten feet from him. He realized the painful sensation he'd endured had originated from the direction of the obelisk.

"I still say we should just kill him," said Jalis. "It would be simpler. Kantrell, you don't think the Senate would care, do you?"

"Why did you say my name, you fool? He intends to let this one live!" shouted Kantrell, who was still out of sight along with DuLoc.

"It won't matter," said DuLoc. "By the time he's able to tell his tale, I'll have already reached the City."

"Hemlock is going to kill you all!" hissed Otticus as loudly as he could.

He heard the loud footfalls of heeled boots walking into his field of view. DuLoc brushed blond curls out of his face to better regard his fallen prey. "So, you still have some fight left in you, I see. Well, I have bad news for you. I've been adjusting this obelisk and adding some new laws. These laws forbid the use of the runic magic you have on your arms there. Fortunately for you, I've decided to let you live. It will be better to use you as an example for the City wizards than to kill you outright. The obelisk will burn you until you are in compliance with the new law."

As the implications of DuLoc's statement played havoc with Otticus' self-control, he realized DuLoc was kneeling in front of him and placing a leather strap in his mouth. "Brace yourself. This is going to be very painful," said DuLoc, sounding like he was relishing the thought of what was about to happen.

But then DuLoc withdrew the leather strap.

"Perhaps you'd like to beg me to spare you this fate?" he asked.

What will I do without my combat runes? I've spent my whole life training with them! Even if we replace them, they'd be different, and I'd have to redo all those years of training with them. I'd be an initiate, again.

Otticus realized that DuLoc couldn't have thought of a better hardship to inflict on him. He began to feel flush with anger at the thought of the humiliation he'd feel. He refused to respond to DuLoc and just looked away, trying to resign himself to whatever was to come—no matter how excruciating it would be.

He felt the leather strap reinserted into his mouth. This time, he clamped down on it with his teeth.

He heard DuLoc rise and turn before speaking in a loud voice. "Gentlemen, this one fancies himself a stoic. Let's see how he feels after we begin the process of bringing him into compliance with the law."

"I had better get back to the City," said Kantrell.

"Really? Is a spectacle like this not considered sport in your City?" said DuLoc.

"Our taste in entertainment tends to be a bit more...restrained."

"That's a pity. Perhaps it will change once I arrive. I have little sympathy for lawlessness and law breakers. This one understood he was a spy and would have no rights if caught. I don't advocate inflicting suffering for its own sake or without respect for laws and standards of reasonable behavior. I'd be no better than the Imperator if I thought like that. You see, Kantrell, we're all little more than brutes walking around in fine clothes. Far less separates us from the beasts of the world than we think. We must indulge our bestial nature from time to time and within the constraints of civilized behavior. If we suppress our inner beasts, it can harm us."

"I will reflect on your words, sir," said Kantrell. Soon after he spoke, Otticus heard a familiar sound, but it took him a second to place it. It was a metallic sound like the squeak of a hinge and then there was a clang like the closing of a latch.

"You will refer to him as your Lord!" hissed Jalis loudly.

"Jalis, let it be. I have not even returned to the City, yet, mmm?" cooed DuLoc.

"Farewell," said Kantrell, sounding uncomfortable. Then a bell rang sharply and echoed throughout the open space. It was quickly followed by a whooshing sound and a sudden wind that fell off just as quickly as it came. Otticus realized that Kantrell had left in a teleport cage like the one he had used to travel between Tanna Varra and the tower. It was impossible that it was the same one.

Someone must have built another one in secret for the Senate.

"It's just you and I to enjoy the show, Jalis," said DuLoc from nearby.

Otticus began to feel odd. And then he felt a burning sensation on his arms. He tried to keep himself composed as the pain rose in intensity, but the burning took over his entire consciousness. He was sure his arms were actually aflame. He realized he was howling and then screaming as he writhed around on the floor involuntarily. Otticus yearned for the freedom of unconsciousness, yet it never arrived. He felt like he floated above his body and began to feel like a beast—like he would do anything to avoid the excruciating pain. And then the pain receded until it was just a dull burning centered around his arms.

He lay still and tried to calm the tremors that seized his body.

A firm hand removed the leather strap, and he heard a soothing voice in his ear. "The pain will start again soon unless I take pity on you. Beg for your deliverance!"

He was beginning to recover some clarity after the terrible ordeal, but the memory of the pain was still fresh and intense. Just as Otticus gathered the will to resist begging, the sound of his own pitiful voice registered in his mind. He realized he had been sobbing and groveling at DuLoc's feet. He managed to compose himself for a moment, but then his fragile hold on his composure frayed under the weight of the humiliating realization that DuLoc had broken him. He began to sob again.

He heard a cruel, mocking laugh as the pain returned with a shocking swiftness.
Chapter Four

Samberlin sat in the bath underneath the Senate and contemplated the probability that his son would not return from his meeting with the rogue wizard, Jalis. The room was wide with blue vaulted ceilings that were supported by columns arrayed around its middle.

It was a late hour for a bath and Samberlin was waiting for the room to empty so he could enter the secret room where he kept the teleporting cage Jalis had made for him some years ago. There was one bather that was taking unusually long to leave. He was a heavy-set man, and Samberlin realized that the man had fallen asleep near the edge of the pool.

Samberlin made a loud splash and looked away as the man awakened and realized his circumstances. Samberlin heard the man climb out of the pool and wish him a good night. Samberlin nodded in return and listened to the man's receding footfalls.

His thoughts returned to his son.

I don't think Jalis would kidnap Kantrell, but perhaps DuLoc might? If I've allowed my son to walk into a trap, I will never forgive myself.

He waited another ten minutes and then rose out of the warm pool. He dried himself with a nearby towel and shivered a bit in the comparative chill of the air.

He donned his robe and sash and then scanned the room for any unwelcome eyes. He then walked to the doorway leading to the storeroom and stood on his toes. He stretched his hand upward and pressed a concealed button in the stone. A small piece of rock slid aside, and a keyhole was revealed on a smooth-worked face of the stone. He pulled a key from his robe, inserted it into the hole, and twisted.

There was a dull thud and a concealed door rotated open a few inches. He reseated the stone over the keyhole and then grabbed a lantern from a nearby wall sconce. He pushed the door and it opened easily despite its apparent weight. He entered the shadowy chamber behind the door and pushed it closed with a click. Darkness surrounded him until he lifted the hoods on the lantern.

He was in a twenty-foot square room with another door on the wall opposite the one he'd entered. He approached the second door and opened it using a conventional handle. It wasn't locked.

He quickly entered a similar chamber and closed the wooden door behind him. This one was larger—around thirty feet square—and there was a circular section of the floor depressed by about a foot. There were scrape marks on the stone in the depression. This was where the teleport cage was kept.

He made his way to a wooden bench against the wall farthest from the door and hung his lantern from a nearby hook. Then he sat and waited.

He tried to put thoughts of his son being tortured by Jalis out of his mind. He had urged Kantrell to send an ambassador in his place, but the young man had insisted on going himself.

A faint buzzing sound became perceptible and then the haze that was typical of an incoming teleport appeared above the depression in the floor. Next, a dazzling light outlined the form of the cage with a man inside it and then coalesced into a semblance of their forms with appropriate color and shading but without full detail. There was a slight pop, and the cage and its occupant snapped into focus like the image in a spyglass as the eyepiece focused.

Samberlin tried to suppress his feeling of relief that his son had returned safely. The young man wore a self-assured expression, but Samberlin could tell by his bearing something had made him uncomfortable.

Samberlin nodded at Kantrell and the latter opened the door to the cage then bent down to fit under the top of the exit door. He sat on the bench beside his father.

"So, did it go well?" asked Samberlin.

"Quite well, yes," said Kantrell. "In fact, remarkably well. I met with DuLoc, himself."

"DuLoc, himself? In the flesh or a projection?"

"In the flesh. Jalis was there as well, but he didn't say much in the presence of his new master."

"Intriguing. So what did you make of this DuLoc?"

"He's an odd man. He's confident and powerful. But he's also from a different age and seems a little out of touch with things as they are now. But he's ruthless, that's for sure."

"Why do you say that?"

"A wizard agent was captured while I was there—a young wizard named Otticus."

"He's a friend of Hemlock and Gwineval. That will inflame the conflict between them and DuLoc. What did DuLoc do with this Otticus?"

"He didn't kill him if that's what you're worried about. Hemlock is already convinced DuLoc is an enemy. I don't see how it changes much."

"If we can prevent a conflict and spare the City a war at its doorstep, then we are going to do it. That is why I sent you to talk to DuLoc's camp."

Kantrell turned to his father. "The mission has evolved from that goal."

Samberlin didn't turn to meet his son's eyes.

The fool has overstepped his bounds again. Curse his whore of a mother for bearing me a child—especially one as endearing and maddening as this boy!

Samberlin finally felt composed enough to respond. "And what did you revise your mission to be?"

"To form an alliance with DuLoc against Hemlock."

Samberlin grasped the bench he sat on and squeezed. "To what end?"

"To free the City from her tyranny and whatever hold she has over you."

"So you propose an alliance with a demi-god who has openly stated his desire to be an emperor over Hemlock—who has renounced control? Do I have to point out how unreasoned that sounds?"

Kantrell reddened and stood abruptly. "I can always count on you not to understand, can't I? You take Hemlock at her word, but her actions prove otherwise. She can't take control openly now because she needs us to help her against DuLoc."

"She's an honest girl, Kantrell. She's coming to grips with what she is, and sometimes she makes bad decisions—but she's honest. And she's malleable to a certain degree. We don't know as much about DuLoc, but to assume he'll have either of those characteristics is very dangerous."

"I disagree. DuLoc has been very honest in his dealings so far. In fact, he's interested in the rule of law. Hemlock is just interested in ruling according to her whims."

"Of course DuLoc is interested in the rule of law. He makes the laws!"

"He's said he will work with the Senate. We would continue to be the legislative body for the City under his rule."

"A puppet legislature is what we'd be. Do you really think he will allow any opposition to his power? Do you understand what the term emperor means?"

"You think you have all the answers," growled Kantrell. "The truth is I don't need your approval to seek this alliance. I will present it to the Senate in an emergency session. I'll have the votes!"

"Kantrell, your opposition to me has been constructive up to now—a part of your learning process—and for that reason, I've allowed it. But you have taken things too far this time. As your father, I must insist that you withdraw from the negotiations with DuLoc. As Speaker of the Senate, I order it."

Kantrell smiled broadly. Samberlin realized his son had made another clumsy attempt to outmaneuver him. "I anticipated your reaction, Father. I already submitted the matter to the morning's agenda at the close of the last session. Because it was a late submission, it was not on the official session log. There _will_ be a vote in the morning after I present DuLoc's offer."

"Nonsense," said Samberlin, rising from the bench. He would go straight to the secretary of the Senate and have the vote removed from the agenda. It would be a simple matter.

But then he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. Kantrell, who easily outweighed his father by a hundred pounds, forced Samberlin back into a seated position.

Samberlin looked up at his son. For a moment, he no longer saw his protégé and heir standing above him—he saw an enemy. "Consider what you are doing now. What you do when I rise from this bench again will decide much. I am your father, but I am bound to some extent by self-interest. I've been grooming you to succeed me, but that will happen on my terms, not yours. If you restrain me again, you will lose the benefit of my protections. I may still love you, but you will not materially benefit from that love. These are perilous times, and you'd do best to consider what being alone means. Do you think the Senators who fawn over you do so out of loyalty? They see you as my heir and also a means to hasten my undoing. And you are playing directly into their hands. You had better take a step back and let me rise."

Samberlin rose forcefully, but Kantrell pushed him down violently, causing Samberlin's head to strike the wall painfully.

As the pain receded and the gravity of what had happened sunk in, Samberlin quickly weighed his options. He always carried a poisoned blade in his boot, but because he had just exited the bath, his boots were still in the other room. He was not carrying a weapon, and cursed himself for his carelessness.

Samberlin glared at his son, who continued to smile broadly. He was furious at the boy's willingness to use physical force against him, but at the same time, he felt an unwanted sense of pride that the boy had been cunning enough to outwit him.

But then his thoughts turned to the prospect of DuLoc appearing in the Senate the following morning. It would be a perilous situation. He realized with a shock that a vote to give DuLoc Imperial powers might have a real chance of passing if the man was sufficiently impressive. There was only one option—and it was one fraught with disastrous potential.

I will have to summon Hemlock and the wizards to the Senate floor to rebut DuLoc.

...

Hemlock walked hurriedly toward Gwineval's chamber in the Wizard Tower. She had been notified that Gwineval had awoken from the vegetative state he'd been in since the battle of Castle Stargis. She'd also been told he was coherent and seemed to be doing well, but concern still hastened her. The many questions she had for Gwineval circulated in her mind.

Why did you use another Imperial spell? How did an Imperial spell work against the Imperial obelisk? Did you know the spell might harm you? How soon will you be ready to fight again?

It frustrated her to realize she probably wouldn't get any answers to these questions—at least not initially—especially if Miara was there, which Hemlock expected she would be.

Hemlock reached Gwineval's door and was careful to knock softly. In a few moments, the heavy wooden door swung open with a creak and Miara peeked out. When she recognized Hemlock, she gave her a forced smile and beckoned her inside.

Hemlock smiled back and walked in. The now familiar acrid humidity greeted her as soon as she crossed the threshold into the room. She noticed Gwineval's scrying pool as her eyes scanned the room and finally reached the bed. She did a double take because she noticed the remnants of a fine mist dissipating over the pool.

Someone had been scrying within the past few minutes.

Gwineval lay under covers, and Hemlock thought the green color that was normally vibrant on his facial scales looked muted. His eyes looked alert, though, and he greeted Hemlock. Merit was already at Gwineval's bedside, and Miara soon joined them on Hemlock's right.

"How are you feeling?" Hemlock asked.

"Alright. Well enough to leave this bed," said Gwineval, trying to rise.

"Gwineval!" snapped Miara.

Gwineval slumped back and winked at Hemlock. She found the expression a bit disconcerting because his lizard eye closed from the bottom and had an inner membrane that rapidly covered the eye as it closed.

He seemed to notice her reaction, and his faint smile receded.

"Though I feel better, it appears my nurse has not cleared me from bed rest, yet," he said.

"You'd set your recovery back a week without me here to temper your impatience," grumbled Miara.

Hemlock remembered the signs of scrying. "Did you hear from Otticus?" she asked.

Miara's eyes moved to the floor. "No," she said. "We just tried to reach him, and I've been trying all morning."

Hemlock felt a sense of unreality as she took in the news. "He couldn't have been captured, right? He's a good fighter, and that Tanna Varran was with him. And he's quick on his feet. He should have been able to talk his way out of any trouble."

Gwineval frowned. "Did anyone consider that Otticus is nearly as impulsive as Hemlock? I think there's a real chance he got himself captured. I never would have sanctioned this mission."

Miara flushed at Gwineval's comment and lashed out angrily. "Well, consulting you wasn't an option since you attempted a forbidden spell and nearly killed yourself in the process!"

Gwineval turned away and adopted a sullen expression.

Hemlock suddenly realized Renevos was not in the room. She asked if the old wizard was aware of the seeming disappearance of his young friend.

"Not yet. But I've been here all morning, and Renevos doesn't come here."

Merit broke his silence with a small exhalation of steam. "When Renevos finds out, he's going to want to go after Otticus."

"That's probably true," said Hemlock.

"Absolutely not! We can't afford to lose any more wizards," said Gwineval.

"How will we stop him? He's going to insist on it," said Miara.

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the door.

"I have an urgent message from the Senate!" cried a muffled voice from outside the door.

"Enter," said Miara.

A First Circle wizard opened the door and stood in the doorway, out of breath. "You are summoned to the Senate chamber immediately. A man calling himself Sub-Imperator DuLoc has appeared on the Senate floor. He claims to have a message for the City."

"Appeared?" asked Hemlock. "You mean in person?"

"I don't know," said the wizard. "That's the message I was given to relay."

"Who sent the message?" demanded Hemlock.

"Speaker Samberlin," said the messenger, flushing at the realization that he'd omitted that piece of information.

Miara and Hemlock spoke up simultaneously.

"This is preposterous! What should we do?" Miara asked, still in shock.

"We have to get to the Senate building!" said Hemlock.

Hemlock turned to the messenger, who was stepping back into the hallway and looking unsure of what he should be doing.

"Get to my apartment in the Warrens as soon as you can. Tell Tored what has happened and ask him to join me in the Senate hall!" she demanded.

The First Circle wizard nodded and then sped off down the hallway.

"Alright, let's get to the Senate!" cried Hemlock.

Miara turned toward Gwineval, who was attempting to quietly get out of bed. "Stay here and don't move."

Gwineval appeared to be in pain until he returned to a resting position and offered no further argument.

Merit appeared at Hemlock's side. "I'd like to be present for this," he said.

She considered his request for a moment and then made a decision. "Fine. I'll carry you."

"Not by yourself," said Miara. "We'll get a First Circle wizard to accompany us."

"Fine," said Hemlock, hoisting Merit into her arms and making her way out the door toward the stairs.

Renevos joined them on the stairway and fell in beside them after minimal explanation. They located a burly wizard on the first floor. Hemlock gave Merit to the wizard, and the group quickly went down to the underground exit from the Tower. They rushed through the catacombs and exited onto the causeway around Hemisphere Lake. It only took them a few more minutes to reach the Senate building where a trio of knights escorted them to the Senate floor.

As the heavy door to the Senate creaked open, Hemlock recoiled at the sound of DuLoc's lilting voice emanating from within the hall. Where his voice had been distorted by distance and magic when she had heard it before, it was now heard with full clarity.

Hemlock considered drawing her weapons as she entered, but as she saw DuLoc standing in the middle of the hall surrounded by seated Senators, it was clear that this was not a combat situation. His archaic clothing was even more pronounced than she remembered. It was now clean, and the fine tailoring of the dark blue waistcoat was notably superior even compared to the finest she'd seen in the modern City. Notably absent was the tricorne hat DuLoc had worn in each of their previous encounters. His abundant blonde curls were pulled tight and tied behind his head with a golden clip.

A murmur of disapproval sounded from the crowd of Senators as Hemlock and the wizards entered. Samberlin rose from his seat beside the Speaker's podium and motioned for them to sit in a set of eight chairs that had been placed in one corner of the chamber.

As she walked, DuLoc caught her eye and nodded. She did not return the nod as she made her way to her seat.

DuLoc continued to deliver his speech, apparently only having just begun before Hemlock's arrival. "In the dawn of the City, it was ruled by the Imperator, who some refer to as the Dead God. I ruled by his side during this period, and was appointed as Sub-Imperator. It was I who located the mountainous region to the east of the City and bound it to this realm. That was the mission of the Sub-Imperators. To explore the outer worlds and increase the size of the City by binding it to those lesser realms with the richest magic and resources.

"But it didn't take long for me to realize something sinister about the Imperator. The system of Imperial laws, which I had invested a great deal of time and energy to create, was being steadily corrupted by him. He didn't want to use the laws to govern and regulate. His goal was to make the laws so restrictive that every citizen would be a criminal by necessity. This gave him complete impunity to imprison any person he perceived to be an enemy of the state.

"When I spoke up about the inefficiency of this misuse of the law, I, myself, was declared an enemy of the state and banished to a distant outer world that was so primordial, every day that passed there was akin to the passage of a year in the City.

"Many years ago, in City terms, I was set free by a dragon. I started the long journey back to the City, which I have finally completed just this week.

"The esteemed Senator Kantrell has invited me here to speak to you today. I realize my visit is controversial. You can see that Hemlock and the wizards that follow her have also been summoned here to deliver a counterpoint to what I am about to propose. You will have an opportunity to hear both sides of the argument. And it's a critical argument about the future of the City. It's a decision between order and chaos—between the rule of law and the whims of a young girl.

"Much has been said about me in this chamber and throughout the City. Hemlock and her wizard cohorts have portrayed me as some sort of demon come to enslave you all. Think back just a few years. Didn't you live in fear of the Wizard Tower? Now, Hemlock has come and aligned herself with these wizards. And she calls me a threat to the City?"

Hemlock stood up. "The wizards like Jalis, who wanted to rule over the City, are now your allies!"

DuLoc turned to Hemlock. "Jalis and his like now stand with me and have renounced their former ambitions. They are now firmly behind our cause to implement the rule of law. You and your followers have no laws. What are your guiding principles? Nobody knows. Are there any?"

Miara rose beside Hemlock and responded. "I am nearly finished with our new bylaws. Everyone in the City will be welcome to review them."

"Well," said DuLoc, "better late than never. But, still, it becomes a matter of trust in light of past behavior. I can assure the citizens of this City that one of the first laws we enact will be to destroy the Wizard Tower!"

Strong applause rang out in the chamber. To Hemlock's eye, it looked like more than half of those assembled were clapping for DuLoc.

That's not good. He's winning them over!

Hemlock decided she had to interject. "I already destroyed the Wizard Tower! Though the physical tower is still there, it's not operating like it used to," she said loudly.

"No, you just ejected the prior leaders and took control of it. These legislators still fear the Tower—and they fear you!" said DuLoc.

Hemlock wanted to call DuLoc a liar, but she didn't think it would help her cause. She remained silent for a moment and lost the initiative.

DuLoc continued in her silence. "And the Wizards are still operating in secret. As a matter of fact, I captured one of your agents spying on me just a few days ago."

DuLoc spun theatrically toward the seated Senators. "Were any of you consulted about this spying? Or was this a clandestine mission by the Wizards operating in secret, again?"

There was a murmuring of disapproval and many of the Senators looked at Hemlock and shook their heads.

DuLoc resumed speaking again before Hemlock could think of a sensible response.

"According to the customs of our City, spies can be executed. As an act of good will, I've spared this spy—he was just a boy, after all. I've deposited him outside the City in the east."

Miara quickly ordered the First Circle wizard in attendance to leave and look for Otticus. DuLoc smiled as the wizard left the chamber.

It feels like an admission of guilt to have him leave like that. But we can't just leave Otticus out there, if DuLoc really did bring him back alive.

DuLoc continued to lecture the Senators. "Let me lay out exactly what I have planned for the City. The Imperial laws still exist here. Did you know that? The runes are still here, below the roads and buildings that have sprung up over the intervening centuries. Let me show you something."

DuLoc drew a baton from under his waistcoat. It had a glass ball at its tip—within which a molten ball of fire was suspended.

His Wand!

Hemlock arose from her chair. "Those Wands are not permitted in the City!"

DuLoc turned to her. "Fear not! The Wand is a tool—no more. What I'd like to do is demonstrate that some of the old Imperial ley lines run right under this very chamber. No person or property will be harmed, I assure you."

Hemlock turned to address the Senators. "Don't allow him to use the Wand here. You don't know what he's capable of."

Kantrell immediately rose from his chair and waved Hemlock off, dismissively. "Remember, this is the girl who forced the indignity of these Lakers on us. What does she fear? That DuLoc may demonstrate a power as great as hers? Or greater? Does she fear that we'll lose our fear of her and regain the will to direct policy for the City? Let's allow the demonstration."

Grumbling voices arose from the area where Kantrell was seated. Soon, nearly every Senator was saying something like, "Let him demonstrate," or "Let's hear him out."

Hemlock looked at Samberlin, but the old Senator shrugged as if to say that there was nothing he could do.

DuLoc seemed to be drinking in the approval of the Senators. He looked buoyed by their affirmations, and his jaw seemed to stick out more aggressively as he put his hands in front of him and made a downward motion to calm the crowd.

"Before my demonstration, let me tell you a little about the role I propose for you in the new order that will follow my return to the City. In the time of the Imperator, we had a strong Imperial Consulate that was responsible for the creation and administration of the law. I served in this body before my appointment as Sub-Imperator, and I'll be frank, I still hold a special affection for legislative government. Your role in the new government will be significant and assured."

Hemlock was still on her feet and watching DuLoc's every move. She was focused on the Wand and looking for any hint of a sudden attack. She glanced over at Samberlin. He shot her a cautionary look, which she interpreted as an urge to refrain from violence. She decided to lower her defenses enough to resume participation in the discussion.

"You told me once that you would be an Emperor!" she shouted over DuLoc.

DuLoc immediately responded to her interruption. "For a time, I will require absolute power. I am the only person alive who remembers the structure of the old Empire. The City you see today bears little resemblance to the finery of the old City. Imagine row upon row of buildings as large and beautiful as this Senate building. Imagine such an abundance of food and resources that nobody starved or lived in squalor. The ugly truth is—and forgive me if this is hard to accept—your beloved City has faded since the time of the Imperator. From what Jalis has told me, there have been great wars that have leveled the City several times over. It's no surprise, then, that much has been lost. I will require full control for a time so that I can rebuild what's been lost."

"A convenient excuse." Hemlock sneered at the arrogant man.

"I fear it may be interpreted as that. And I realize that I am asking for the citizens of this City to take a leap of faith in supporting me. It's my hope that a small demonstration of the benefits of the law will help you all understand the benefits I am offering you. I would like to begin my demonstration now," said DuLoc.

Hemlock sent a final, pleading glance toward Samberlin, but the old Senator shook his head.

DuLoc looked slightly downward and focused his eyes in the distance as if looking at something nobody else could see. At the same time, the fire in the tip of the Wand began to glow more strongly, highlighting DuLoc's face and the rapturous look that came over it.

Hemlock looked at the floor near where DuLoc was focused. A faint humming began to emanate from that area and then there was a shimmering light on the stone floor.

Next, there was a sharp snapping sound as the stone in the floor fractured along a jagged crack that appeared. Soon after, the stone began to crack multiple times in a ten-foot area until, finally, the floor in that radius was reduced to a pile of hand-sized stones. A yellowish light shone from beneath the broken stone, shining up and highlighted by the cloud of dust that the breaking of the stone had generated.

Samberlin bolted upright. "That floor has been here for centuries! You said nothing would be harmed."

DuLoc slowly blinked his eyes and the glow of the Wand faded. A look of concern came over his face, and he saw the state of the broken stone floor. He turned to Samberlin as the hall grew very silent. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't anticipate that happening. The ley line had been dormant for so long that a surge of power was released when I triggered it. But this accident will provide a perfect opportunity for me to demonstrate the power of the laws we can create.

"You may think of the law as a means to govern the behavior of the citizens of the City. And that is a big part of the law. But the law can also be used to maintain our City and its infrastructure. Watch, now, as I construct a law to maintain this floor. This was a common magic that we wove into our roadways."

The tip of the Wand shone again, and DuLoc began to move his arm from side to side as he it. Slender streams of light emanated from the Wand and settled, glittering onto the floor around the broken stone. DuLoc walked around the area as the magical energy continued to pour out of the Wand. Hemlock could sense the familiar pattern of Imperial runic magic being shaped by DuLoc.

The entire chamber was silent as DuLoc worked. Hemlock had a realization as she sat impotently watching the demonstration. She analyzed the magic, but was surprised to find that she couldn't fully penetrate it. She could sense its restorative attributes , but much of its power was masked to her in some way. When she'd seen Imperial magic cast by Gwineval, she'd been able to understand its purpose. But something about DuLoc's spell was different. It struck Hemlock as being a deliberate concealment—as if DuLoc was aware of her ability to interpret magic. But the concealment didn't mask one interesting attribute of the magic. It was brittle. She could see it coalesce into a stronger form as it united with the strengthening runes, but it had a fragile quality to it prior to that point. It left the impression that it would be very vulnerable to counter spells.

He's putting on a good show. I have to break his concentration, or he just might convince the Senators to give up. But how do I rattle him?

She looked over DuLoc's fine clothes and indulgently long hair as he worked. She thought back to the conversation they'd had when he'd appeared to her in the Witch Crags.

He's a proud man. Maybe that's his weakness. Once I defied him, he started to scold me and call me a girl.

Then another thought occurred to her.

He was around when my father still lived. I should make him give an account of what happened when he and the Imperator rebelled against my father. Maybe that will rattle him.

She rose from her chair and interrupted DuLoc's demonstration.

"Why don't you tell us why you and the Imperator killed the Red Mage? Why don't you tell us what you're hiding from us?" she shouted.

DuLoc tried to ignore her outburst as he finished repairing the broken stone.

Samberlin spoke up as well. "I would like to hear that." Several Senators that Hemlock knew were loyal to Samberlin vocally agreed.

DuLoc completed the repair and turned back toward the Senators. He was still smiling, but Hemlock could see a hint of strain on his face.

"That's ancient history now. Nobody in the City even remembers those times. Suffice it to say the Imperator made most of those decisions," DuLoc said.

"So you didn't favor the execution of a benevolent King?" Hemlock insisted loudly.

DuLoc's face colored. "Benevolent? How little you understand about the Red Mage. He was cold and imperious. He sat atop his great tower and ignored the affairs of the people. Does that sound familiar, Senators? Hmmm? The Imperator turned out to be miscast as a leader, but at least he engaged the people in his decision-making process. The Red Mage was aloof and distant. He made choices in isolation with no regard for the effects his decisions had on the people of this City."

"The people of the City loved the Red Mage," cried Hemlock. "I've seen visions of him being adored in the streets."

"There were times when he was loved. But he stopped caring about the people and just stayed in his Tower. It's uncanny how much your beloved Wizard Tower ended up functioning like his did, isn't it?"

Soft laughter reverberated through the hall.

DuLoc took that as a sign to continue. "Whatever connection you believe you have with the past is immaterial. You weren't there. I lived through it, and the Red Mage was worse for the City than the Imperator was."

"That's a lie," said Hemlock. "This City was built to allow the expression of free will, and the Imperator eliminated that. The people will decay under the weight of these laws you're proposing."

"On the contrary, the laws will create order and stability and allow the people to live in peace and harmony."

Suddenly, there was a loud whistling beside Hemlock. It took her a few moments to realize that it was Merit—and he was speaking very loudly. "The history books refer to you as a subverter of laws. They say you were a womanizer and that you broke up marriages and then had angry husbands imprisoned. They say you found loopholes in the laws and cheated people, and that the Imperator banished you because of your decadence."

Is Merit running with my idea of trying to anger him?

DuLoc turned toward Merit with a start, and for a moment, an unconcealed look of contempt passed over his features. But then he composed himself, brushing his blond curls out of his face as he responded.

"That's a wild accusation coming from...what? A machine sent to be the mouthpiece of the wizards, mmm?" said DuLoc with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Hemlock heard a metallic clang beside her and looked over at Merit. His head had dropped to his chin as if he'd lost consciousness. Then there was a collective gasp from the assembled Senators. Hemlock looked back toward DuLoc and saw what had surprised the assembly.

Merit's projection of himself as a youth was standing beside DuLoc. DuLoc took several steps away from the apparition, and Hemlock saw his mouth silently form a single word as he retreated. "Impossible."

"I'm not just a machine," said the soft, human-like voice of Merit's projection. "And accounts of your decadence are described in several history books I've read. All by different authors. You know it's true, just like I think you know who I am, too."

Hemlock was frozen by surprise. Merit had revealed his secrets in front of everyone. And the effect it was having on DuLoc was extraordinary. The man's calm demeanor was now replaced by a hostile sneer as he looked at Hemlock.

"So, your plan is to deride me and use this echo of the past to slander me!" screamed DuLoc as his Wand flared again.

Hemlock reacted an instant too slowly. Merit's projection blinked out of existence as the real Merit yelped in pain. A cascading band of energy now separated Hemlock and the seated wizards from DuLoc and the Senators.

I can't move!

Hemlock felt adrenaline rush into her system as she considered her peril. The stone floor around her seat shattered and angrily glowing runes were revealed beneath. The energy field was emanating from the runes.

DuLoc was composed again as Hemlock struggled mightily against the restraining energy.

"Senators, forgive me this indiscretion. I feared that Hemlock would try something rash, so I took the liberty of preparing a defensive rune, which I've just activated. As you can see, even the mighty Hemlock can be subdued by the power of the law."

Samberlin burst from his seat. "Stop this, immediately! Kantrell, tell him to stop! This is the floor of the Senate, not a battlefield!" Some voices rose in support of Samberlin.

But Kantrell rose, shaking his head. "No, we all need to see this. Now we know that DuLoc is telling the truth, and we don't have to fear the wizards anymore."

I never should have allowed him to use that Wand!

Hemlock continued to struggle, and as she visualized DuLoc deciding to slay her then and there, she desperately reached for the otherworldly power that she had drawn upon in the past. The conditions felt right, but the unique sensation of burgeoning power never came.

DuLoc chuckled. "You see, Senators, I'm familiar with Hemlock's abilities, and I know how to deal with them."

He's blocked my energy flow somehow. What else can I do? I can't move an inch. Maybe the voice of command I learned from the Witch? Yes! It just might work.

But, to her surprise, she discovered that she couldn't even speak. She was completely immobilized. And completely helpless.

Kantrell was still standing, and he addressed the Senators in a clear, confident voice. "Senators, we've heard from DuLoc and now we've seen a clear demonstration of his power. I call for a preliminary vote on the matter of opening the City to DuLoc and entering into a non-aggression pact while we negotiate legislation to appoint him as a temporary regent of the City. All in favor of a vote say 'Aye!'"

A loud chorus of "Aye" echoed through the room.

Kantrell turned toward Samberlin in the Speaker's chair. "Mr. Speaker, it's obvious we have the majority necessary to vote on this matter. Do you concur?"

Samberlin's eyes strained with concentration as he slowly looked over the assembly and then directly at Hemlock.

Hemlock could see the old Senator draw in a deep breath and prepare to speak. But an outcry from the galleries above halted him.

A shadow descended from the lowest balcony of the gallery and deftly dropped the twenty feet to the Senate floor. The dark cape worn by the figure surrounded it as it stood, accentuating the air of mysterious power that seemed to emanate from it. Knights charged the figure with drawn swords as the figure threw the cape and hood aside.

It was Falignus, looking more pale and terrible than Hemlock ever remembered seeing him as he stood in the stark, steady light of the Senate hall. As he faced DuLoc, he looked like the embodiment of a counter point to the ancient man. Where DuLoc was well dressed, clean shaven, healthy-looking, and orderly, Falignus was pale, gaunt, shabbily-clothed, and unkempt. DuLoc looked like a bureaucrat—Falignus like tortured beast.

Everyone in the hall, including the Knights, was momentarily struck with a shock of recognition. A fearful murmur resounded around the chamber. For they all remembered seeing Falignus' foul, winged incarnation during the confrontation in the Wizard Tower that had happened the year prior.

DuLoc appeared to be taking stock of Falignus as the latter walked deliberately toward the barrier surrounding Hemlock.

Chaos broke out in the hall. Senators were screaming "Falignus!" and "Impossible!" Samberlin was shouting for order. Kantrell shouted at DuLoc to detain Falignus.

DuLoc raised his Wand but the tip never flared. And, in the next moment, Falignus reached the magical barrier. As he did, tendrils of energy played between his body and the opaque wall. And then he walked through it unimpeded. The barrier and the runes that had been exposed in the floor flared in unison and then flashed out of existence.

Hemlock was free. In the next instant, she leaped from her seat and ran toward DuLoc. DuLoc, for his part, was still looking at Falignus intently. At the last second before Hemlock struck him, he noticed her approaching and disappeared soundlessly.

Hemlock skidded ten feet across the floor before coming to a halt mere steps away from Kantrell, who regarded her with fearful disdain.

The din in the room began to subside as Samberlin continued to cry, "Order!" and slam his gavel into the Speaker's podium.

Hemlock stood and glared at Kantrell as the room began to quiet down. Samberlin still pounded his gavel over and over again. She was tempted to slay Kantrell but realized it would be a diplomatic breach that might never be forgiven.

I'll need their help against DuLoc. My only hope to secure that is to try to explain things to them.

"I'd like to speak," Hemlock said loudly.

Samberlin stopped hammering his gavel as the last Senators took their seats.

"You have the floor," he said with surprising calm.

Kantrell began to shout, but the Captain of the Knights, a grim soldier named Breon, strode across the hall and escorted the near-hysterical senator to his chair. As silence settled over the hall, all eyes turned to Hemlock.

"I'm sorry this has happened. Your hall is damaged, and we might have had a battle in the heart of the City if things had gone differently. On the other hand, since we've made it through this with no injuries—perhaps it's a good thing that you all got to witness this.

"Kantrell would have you believe that everything DuLoc says is true. He wants to believe that DuLoc will be the final answer to eliminating my influence over you. And DuLoc showed you some impressive things. But I have to assume that you are not like children who are easily impressed by the cheapest parlor trick.

"You were about to vote on giving absolute power to DuLoc. Do you realize the import of that? I didn't even hear anything about terms for him relinquishing that power. It was going to be open-ended. In other words—permanent.

"I'm sure you are shocked to see Falignus here. Believe me, the wizards were also shocked that I wanted to bring him back. But maybe now everyone understands why I had to do it."

Hemlock looked at Falignus and saw that he had taken her seat. His face wore a neutral expression.

"DuLoc is not like a wizard or even like me. The wizards made some bad decisions in the past and forced their rules on you. But that was nothing like what DuLoc has planned for you. Have you spoken to the refugees from the mountains? The obelisks DuLoc creates to enforce the laws are judge, jury, and executioner. There's no arguing with a piece of stone. Is that what you want for the City?"

A supportive murmur sounded from the Senators.

Just then, the doors of the Senate creaked open and the First Circle wizard who had recently left was helping a limping figure enter.

Part of Hemlock recognized the stout musculature of the figure, but the downcast bearing of the man was so unfamiliar that she was momentarily unable to reconcile who she was seeing. After a few moments, she saw bright burns on either arm of the hunched figure, and her memory forced her to accept who this new arrival was—an evidently shattered Otticus.

"Dear Creator!" gasped Miara, rushing toward Otticus. Renevos was right behind her.

Hemlock joined her as some Senators began to grumble.

She heard Kantrell's booming voice raising an objection behind her, but she ignored him.

As Hemlock got close to Otticus, the young man managed to look up at those gathered around him. His red-rimmed eyes were fresh with tears and his eyes were bloodshot. Hard lines of pain were etched into his face as he gasped for air between gritted teeth.

"What did he do to you, boy?" shouted Renevos, noticing the severe burns on his arms for the first time.

Hemlock realized there was no trace of the tattoos that every First Circle wizard had along their arms. His wizardly battle tattoos as well as the teleportation runes that Renevos had created had been completely removed. Hemlock had been led to believe those tattoos were impossible to remove. She imagined that whatever process DuLoc had used must have been unbearably painful.

"He should have killed me," sobbed Otticus. "I'm not even a wizard anymore. I'm nothing."
Chapter Five

Kantrell looked over the assembled Senate and scowled. A mere two days had elapsed since the stunning reversal in the Senate that had caused DuLoc to retreat and had damaged Kantrell's own prestige immeasurably. He had put almost all of his cards on the table for the maneuver with DuLoc, and somehow its successful execution had been thwarted by Hemlock.

It had only taken a few days for the repercussions of his defeat to become apparent. His father, Samberlin, had quickly drafted a resolution denouncing DuLoc, and the chastened Senators who had been loyal to Kantrell had been too meek to vote it down. If DuLoc attempted to enter the City again, the Senate was now pledged to resist him. To add insult to injury, the Senate Knights would fight under the direction of Hemlock and the wizards if war broke out.

Kantrell was aware that an obese Senator had taken the floor and was speaking out against increasing mineral prices, but Kantrell was distracted by planning the speech he was about to make. There was still one issue in the City he could potentially exploit: the presence of the Witch on the Lake with her minions. Hemlock had addressed the Senate the day before and argued that the witches would be needed in the battle against DuLoc. Amazingly, she'd gotten a measure passed to postpone any action against the witches for several months.

But, even though the Senate had passed the measure, he knew many in the chamber still despised the witches and the citizens known as Lakers. A few hours prior, he'd received word that a Witch had been seen recruiting in the Warrens the previous evening. This was a blatant violation of the terms that had been negotiated less than twenty-four hours prior.

As the pudgy Senator concluded his remarks, Kantrell looked toward his father, Samberlin, to call him to the floor. Samberlin had been icy toward him since the DuLoc incident. Kantrell wondered whether his father might actually plot against him. He was planning against his father like an enemy, yet part of him still hoped his father would hold back from actively opposing him. Kantrell despised the part of him that still yearned for his father's love and approval, yet it was undeniably there.

Samberlin's quavering voice called the Senate to order with an accompanying strike of a gavel. "Senator Kantrell on the matter of the Witches," his father said with an unmistakable edge to his voice that suggested annoyance at the topic. A grumbling broke out amongst the assembly as Kantrell strode to the center of the floor.

"Senators, I realize we voted on the matter of the Witches on Hemisphere Lake yesterday. It was not my intent to revisit this topic so shortly after a vote was conducted, but a serious matter has been brought to my attention."

Kantrell realized he was sweating profusely. He hoped it didn't show. He knew the wording of his opening remarks had been awkward.

I have to focus. This may be my last chance to re-establish myself.

"Last night, in brazen defiance of our latest agreement, a Witch was spotted in the Warrens recruiting new followers. The incident occurred in the Red Imp Inn and lasted for several hours. It is believed that several people were recruited to become new Lakers and left with the Witch. We also have evidence that the enchanted lake water was used again to intoxicate our people and make them more susceptible to these radicals. I ask you, assembled Senators, will we stand idly by while these witches make a mockery of our agreement?"

Kantrell paused to allow his words to sink in. But there was only a muted response from the assembly—not nearly the outpouring of indignation he'd been hoping for.

"Will we stand by as more of our sons and daughters are corrupted by the active recruiting of these witches?"

There was an uncomfortable silence. Kantrell chose to risk further embarrassment by allowing the silence to persist in the hope that the undercurrent of resentment he was sure boiled under the surface of the calm in the chamber would overflow.

Instead, to Kantrell's horror, the same portly Senator who had spoken before him rose and made a statement. "We've been through a lot in the past few days. I don't think we care to revisit this topic, sir."

Kantrell felt his pulse spiking, and he heard himself yelling before he was able to control himself. "Are you mad? Hemlock hasn't won! Don't be so meek. The time to act is now!"

The portly senator sat, and the silence in the room became suffocating.

Finally, the sharp sound of a gavel pounding broke the silence and felt like the fall of an executioner's axe to Kantrell. He turned toward the sound and saw his father looking at him with a wry smile as he sounded the gavel again.

"Senator, have you completed your remarks?" Samberlin asked.

Kantrell had a sudden vision of himself strangling his father. He vowed that one day, he'd realize the vision. He gathered himself using the small amount of dignity he still retained and slunk back to his seat.

As he sat, simmering, he realized there wasn't much left for him to do. His waning influence in the Senate was now all but destroyed. All he had left was the trappings of his post as speaker pro-temps, and that would only last until the next round of appointment votes.

But I do have command of the Knights until then.

Could I storm my father's chambers and have him deposed? Perhaps I could send an envoy to DuLoc asking for another visit? No, my father will see that coming. He will be prepared for such a move.

Kantrell was certain there was still a groundswell of opposition to the Witches.

Perhaps I could use the Knights to move on the Witches? Yes, it might work.

Kantrell knew it would be an all or nothing proposition. Unless he was able to apprehend a Witch in the act of recruiting, he would likely be ejected from the Senate. Even though he was discredited now, at least he still had his Senate seat—and would likely keep it by virtue of his father's position and prestige. He still had something to lose, although his pride would never allow him to be happy living in his father's shadow and then being gently pushed aside when the older man finally passed on.

No, I need to act now. I'd rather die than live on in obscurity. I'll catch a Witch and then Samberlin will have to acknowledge the issue. My breaking the law will be forgotten in the wake of the outrage of the Senate against Hemlock and the Witches.

But Kantrell feared his father would anticipate this move, too. The old man was cunning and now he realized that Kantrell was prepared to do almost anything to gain power.

I can't do this by myself. I'll need an ally—someone willing to risk everything, like me. And I'll need an angle that father won't anticipate.

Suddenly, it came to him. There was a lieutenant in the city guard who had approached Kantrell some months before with a clumsy scheme to discredit the captain of the guard and give Kantrell a vassal within the Knights themselves. The implication was that this man would listen to Kantrell personally, even if the orders didn't come from the Senate.

The man was known to be a gambler and a debtor. But Kantrell knew what the man needed—gold—and Kantrell had a good supply of that. He had to meet with the man immediately and hope that the man was desperate enough to cast his lot with Kantrell despite his recent struggles in the Senate.

The evening shadows were long when Kantrell, dressed in a long, hooded cloak, made his way through the deserted streets until he reached the Knight's barracks. The building was long and low, and a gentle smoke billowed from the center of it. Kantrell knew there was a central courtyard in the middle of the building, and the smoke was from a funeral pyre where an elder Knight had been sent to his final rest earlier in the evening.

The lieutenant leaned out of an open window and beckoned Kantrell to approach. There was a small door on the wall near the window, and Kantrell tried to open it, but it was locked. A moment later, he heard the lock removed from the inside and the door opened.

A shabby looking man in middle age stood in the doorway. His long, gray hair was greasy and matted. Although he appeared to be fit, he also had a large belly which stretched his stained, white robe above his waist. His blue eyes were glazed from the effects of drink.

Kantrell pushed past the man hastily. "Let me in, Derel. We will be seen. It is dangerous."

"For you, perhaps." Derel laughed without mirth.

A heavy door stood ajar in the torch-lit hallway, and Kantrell knew it led to Derel's chamber. He didn't wait for the man and entered quickly. The room was shabby—like the man. There was a fine desk and chair made from rare timber, but they were pockmarked and gouged by careless use. There was an ornamental scroll hanging on the wall, but it leaned to the side and was covered with dust. Discarded clothes littered the floor. The only thing that was orderly was a suit of armor and a sheathed sword that were arrayed in one corner with some apparent care.

Derel closed the door as he entered. "So, the mighty Kantrell has deigned to visit me. What an honor!" the man said with a sneer.

Kantrell looked down at the older man. Kantrell knew he was no warrior, but he wondered whether his advantage in size and youth would enable him to best the man in combat. He wasn't sure.

If matters ever turn violent with this one, I'll use treachery to deal with him.

"Even my reduced station looks far down upon yours, Derel," snarled Kantrell.

"Is that so? Why are you here, then?"

Kantrell ignored the question and gestured to the disarray surrounding him. "I gather your situation here is still dire? Are you finding yourself long on bad judgment and short on gold?"

"Perhaps, but then my hand isn't quite played out, yet. Is yours?"

"As a matter of fact, no, it isn't."

"That's not what I've heard."

"Well, you've heard wrong. There's still one card left to play—the Witches."

"Right. You think violating the direction of the Senate and going out on your own clandestine crackdown will solve your problems?"

If my plans are this transparent to Derel, does my father suspect something, too?

"If we can catch them in the act and bring them before the Senate, we'll be able to convince them."

"I notice you're saying we. You need me?"

"I'll need you and a squad of loyal Knights."

"These Witches are powerful, Kantrell. How do you propose to capture one? I've heard they can charm their way out of almost anything."

"They have powerful magic. But, I've had it studied, and I've had a counter spell developed. We will have to be dressed in full plate armor. You'll need to get me a set, as well."

"You intend to go, too? I'm impressed. But, I'm still not sure this plan makes any sense. How does this play out, assuming we succeed and apprehend a Witch?"

"We'll present witnesses to describe the recruiting activities of the captured Witch. They'll talk about how the Witch's magic made them act against their will. Hopefully, there will be a young woman there or even some young parents. I'll stress how they are threatening the social fabric of the City, and I'll put it right in the faces of the Senate. They won't be able to ignore it even if Hemlock is right there arguing against it. This decisive act will strengthen my stature and hurt my father's. My former allies in the Senate will return to my side. And we'll engage with DuLoc again. DuLoc is going to win the coming war, Derel. You need to be on the winning side."

Derel had a distant look and milled about the room for a minute. Then, slowly, a wry smile cracked over his features. "It's so bold, it might just work. But, let's talk about what I want out of this deal. I want to be the Captain of the Guard."

Kantrell wasn't entirely shocked at the extent of Derel's demand, yet it made him fear for his plan. Breon, the current Captain of the Guard, was popular and well-connected.

"And what am I supposed to do with Breon? No, you overplayed your hand. I'll make your current position unassailable despite whatever bad decisions you've made in the past. Then, if Breon aligns himself against DuLoc, he will become vulnerable and you'll realize your ambitions."

"No, I want him dead immediately if we succeed."

Kantrell gave Derel a hard look. "What aren't you telling me?"

Derel smiled again and wiped some greasy locks from his face before replying. "Let's just say my dealings have become a bit messy of late. Breon is going to be after my head, and diplomacy won't stay his hand."

Kantrell pounded the table he was standing in front of. "How can I help you out of that? We can't just kill Breon!"

"Why not? We'd already be breaking Senate law by acting against their decree. What's a little murder to go with it?"

Suddenly, there was a pounding at the door. A brusque voice called out from the other side, "Open up, Derel!"

"It's Breon!" hissed Derel, his eyes wide with surprise. But then his features darkened. He reached for his sword and strapped it onto his belt.

Kantrell looked at the open window. If he ran and jumped, there might be a chance to escape undetected.

Someone tried the door handle and found it locked. "You're only making things worse!" said Breon.

"Hold on!" Derel said loudly, walking toward the door. Then he turned to Kantrell and hissed, "When I give the signal, use your dagger on the nearest knight. I'll handle the rest."

Kantrell had no time to consider a response. Derel had already reached the door and unlocked it.

Breon, the Captain of the Guard, burst into the room flanked by two knights. None of them were armored, but all of them brandished swords.

Derel retreated into the room and positioned himself beside a desk. Breon followed Derel and faced him with his chest thrust forward and his free hand clenched in front of him. One of the knights positioned himself behind the Captain. The other stood and glared at Kantrell.

"Well, look at this. Old Samberlin never fails to amaze me. He warned me to keep an eye on you, Derel. When I heard that someone saw a visitor come to the barracks, I knew something was afoot. And here I find you conspiring with this disgraced Senator! You're not planning anything stupid, I hope," said the Captain.

"So, the words of one paranoid Senator have set you on this rash path? Kantrell is a friend—nothing more," yelled Derel.

"Is that right? And what sort of friendship does a debtor and a thief have with a traitor to the Senate?" snarled the Captain.

Kantrell realized the fear of imminent violence had momentarily stilled his tongue. He recovered and took comfort in a rising feeling of righteous indignation.

"By what right do you call me a traitor, Breon!" shouted Kantrell more loudly than he had intended.

All eyes in the room turned to him and he continued. "My father is the traitor. He's siding with the Wizard Tower when a savior is at hand!"

The Captain smirked. "One man's savior is another man's slave driver. None of it matters to me. My oath is to the Senate, and the leader of the Senate has ordered me to apprehend any conspirators."

Kantrell smiled. He wasn't comfortable fighting with steel, but words were his weapon of choice. "And how do you know we are conspiring?"

Kantrell's smile faded as he noticed Derel nod to him gravely. Kantrell raised his arms in front of him involuntarily as he realized what that nod meant. Derel was already drawing his sword. Kantrell's gesture made the other knights turn back to Derel, but the portly knight was faster than he looked. Derel had already aimed a hasty thrust at the Captain before the Captain turned back. But the Captain was also a seasoned fighter, and his reflexes saved him as he stepped to the side and avoided Derel's blow.

Breon recovered his balance and slashed at Derel violently just as Derel managed to raise his sword to parry. The disparity in speed between the two fighters was immediately apparent. The Captain was far more talented. But Derel had been in his share of close quarters brawls, and when the Captain thrust, lodging his sword in the nearby desk, Derel stepped toward him with a glistening knife in his off hand. The other Knights were behind the Captain and didn't have room to circle around to Derel's flanks. They could do little more than look and yell encouragement. Kantrell thought about running for the window, but the spectacle of the fight kept his feet rooted to the floor.

The Captain redirected Derel's dagger, thrusting it aside with his free arm as he wrenched the tip of his sword free from the desk. But a small flinch from Breon indicated that the dagger had at least partially found its mark.

Kantrell's eyes returned to the glistening knife blade as the Captain continued aiming blows at Derel.

A poisoned blade!

It became apparent that the Captain was faltering, and the Knights behind Breon yelled for him to stand aside.

Breon disengaged as a vicious fight erupted in his wake. Derel was the only fighter with a dagger, and his two opponents weren't able to realize their advantage in numbers due to the tight space. But Derel was clearly winded, and the outcome was still very much in doubt.

The Captain glared at Kantrell as he shuffled toward the door.

"You, stay there," Breon growled as he reached for the door handle with visible strain.

Something inside Kantrell snapped. Despite his stature, the Senator had never killed a man and hadn't engaged in physical combat since he had left the university. But he was suddenly certain he had to kill Breon, the Captain of the Knights.

He drew his dagger from his belt and ran toward the Captain as the latter was opening the door. Three things happened at once. Kantrell fell into the Captain heavily, the door slammed shut from the impact, and Kantrell's blade sank deep into Breon's belly.

There was blood and a lot of it. It was warm as it coursed out of the Captain's belly, over Kantrell's hand, and down over his wrist and forearm. Kantrell stepped back from the Captain as the warrior slumped down and hit the floor with a stricken look on his face. He didn't cry out, but just lay in place, moaning.

Kantrell heard banging and slams from his right and turned to see a Knight facing him and raising his sword to strike him down.

Several thoughts ran through his head as he stood and waited to die. He thought of his departed mother, and he could remember the details of her face clearly for the first time in many years. He remembered being a student and the son of a prominent Senator with a bright future ahead of him. This gave him a sick feeling.

How did it end up like this?

The sword reached the apex of the upper swing and the Knight's tensing muscles directed its inexorable descent toward Kantrell's pliant flesh.

But suddenly, the Knight's eyes bulged, and the tip of a sword protruded from the man's ribcage. The Knight lost his grip on the swinging sword, and Kantrell froze as the tip of the blade flew to the side of him, narrowly missing his left leg in the process.

The Knight lurched forward as if kicked from behind, and Kantrell stepped to the side to avoid his falling body. Derel was still standing, although his nose was bleeding and his face was puffy and swollen. His left arm was also hanging at an unnatural angle.

Kantrell became aware of a gurgling sound coming from near the door. The Captain had managed to raise himself to a seated position, but his head was now bowed. Kantrell realized the Knight's sword that had narrowly missed his own leg had embedded itself in the Captain's neck.

"What have we done?" muttered Kantrell to no one in particular.

"What are you saying?" cried Derel. "Don't you realize we've won?"

Kantrell's intellect snapped him out of a state of shock as he parsed Derel's words.

Breon, the former Captain of the Guard, is dead. That means the Senate must appoint a new Captain. I am still in command of the Knights. The power of appointment falls to me!

"Get me a parchment and quill. Quickly!" shouted Kantrell. As if to underscore the urgency in his voice, there came another pounding at the door.

Derel moved quickly despite his obvious injuries. Kantrell wrote out a letter of appointment as a crowd of Knights could be heard gathering outside the door and also at the window. He fumbled in a pouch at his waist and withdrew the stamp that would apply the seal of the Senate to the letter.

"Open the door!" they cried.

The knights outside the room were reaching a fever pitch when Derel dragged the bodies aside and threw open the door. He held the appointment letter Kantrell had just written in front of him like a shield.

There was a collective gasp when the knights realized Derel was straddling the body of their former Captain.

"Boys, there's been a change in command! Senator Kantrell has appointed me as your new Captain," screamed Derel.

Many of the knights looked uncertain. But one, balding and scarred, stepped forward. "You murdered Breon! You're no Captain of mine."

Kantrell recognized his cue and mustered his most theatrical voice. "Some unfortunate events took place in this room mere minutes ago. A tragic misunderstanding led Breon and his companions to unlawfully assault Derel. Derel defended himself but was forced to kill Breon. I, Kantrell, son of Samberlin, agent of the Senate, hereby appoint Derel as the new Captain of the Knights. Behold the written appointment letter signed by me and stamped with the official seal of the Senate!"

The bold knight looked somewhat less sure of himself, but he persisted in his defiance, turning back to the assembled knights as he spoke. "Breon had been ordered to arrest Derel by Speaker Samberlin, himself! The son conspires against the father. We must get to Samberlin!"

Derel shot a scared look at Kantrell.

Kantrell took a step forward and shouted over the man. "That would be a treasonous act! It's true, my father and I have had our differences. But involving him will not change anything. My power to appoint the new Captain is fully legal, and Samberlin can't rescind the appointment. Any man who doesn't immediately pledge his loyalty to Derel is a traitor. Traitors will be apprehended and thrown in the funeral pyre that burns in the courtyard. We are approaching a time of great conflict. You knights must be vigilant in maintaining your honor and allegiance to the laws of the City. The Senate is the arbiter of these laws. I am the arbiter of your command structure. I have appointed Derel. You must respect this appointment or you might as well leave the knights immediately. That, or face the flames of justice!"

The bold knight looked ready to fight, but the men behind him faltered. The bold knight looked behind him and saw that he stood alone in his defiance. He spat at Derel and unclasped his belt, sending his scabbard and blade clattering to the floor.

"You are all cowards and fools!" cried the bold knight. "Derel is a scoundrel and so is this Senator! But you are too meek to defy them even as Breon's carcass bleeds out on the floor right in front of your stupid eyes. You are no comrades of mine."

The knight stormed off, muscling his way through the other men, who could not meet his gaze as he passed.

Derel cast a look of triumph at Kantrell.

We've done it! Against all odds, we've succeeded!

...

Kantrell paced back and forth as he admired a line of ornate helms that were arrayed inside a sinuously carved wooden display case. He was still in the knight's barracks, but he and Derel had moved to the Captain's chamber. A few eventful hours had passed since the fall of Breon and the rise of Derel as Captain of the Knights. Derel had had an almost constant stream of meetings with individual knights since then.

A small group of knights had soured on the notion of Derel's takeover and had stormed out of the barracks just an hour ago. Kantrell feared that Derel would lose control of the situation, but the man had been surprisingly energetic in solidifying his power. Derel knew exactly which knights would be tempted by the promise of advancement, and he wasted no time in giving them immediate field promotions even though the knights were not deployed in the field of battle. If some of the men found these proceedings unusual, there was no widespread expression of this opinion. Most of the men seemed to be dazed by the rapidity of the changes, and Derel exploited this passivity to the utmost.

A newly promoted lieutenant pushed past a departing man and entered the room. Kantrell looked more closely at the helms in the case as the man waited to deliver some news. The dying embers of the funeral pyre that smoldered in the central square cast flickering shadows over the undulations of the curved helms, lending them an unearthly grandeur. Kantrell knew the helms were from past Captains of the Knights. It was a tradition for each Captain to have a custom helmet made for themselves; and then, when they either retired or died in service, their helmet would be displayed in the cabinet along with those of their predecessors. He wondered whether Derel would recognize Breon by affording the man the traditional honor.

"What is it, Stayvius?" said Derel gruffly from behind the Captain's desk. Kantrell turned and took stock of the new Captain. He'd had his shoulder put back into socket and bandages covered some of his face. He looked drawn, but there was a fire in his eyes that seemed to sustain him.

"A messenger from the Senate delivered this parchment a few minutes ago," said the lieutenant.

"Read it," said Derel.

"No!" interjected Kantrell. "Let me read it first."

Kantrell strode over to the lieutenant and reached out for the scroll. The lieutenant looked at Derel and then, presumably in reaction to a signal from the Captain, gave the scroll to Kantrell.

Kantrell scanned the document.

"My father demands an immediate audience with you in the Senate."

"Is that right? What should I do?" asked Derel.

"Draft a response. Say that urgent business precludes your ability to leave the barracks at this time, but invite my father to visit you here. Say that you will be available for an audience in the morning."

"Is that wise? Will he see it as a treasonous response?" asked Derel.

"He would have to assemble the Senate to organize a vote on an indictment of you. You will be able to make a reasonable argument that you acted in good faith but needed to remain here in order to keep things stable. This is actually the truth, so that makes it all the more believable."

Derel stood and approached Kantrell. He got close enough that his fetid breath and sweaty, pockmarked skin were in uncomfortable proximity. Yet, Kantrell didn't dare step back and show weakness.

"It feels like I'm taking all the risk here," said Derel, giving Kantrell an appraising look.

"Well, now it's my turn. I have to apprehend the Witch. Get me a squad of knights together in full plate. And have them bring me a set of plate mail."

Derel laughed. "Impossible. I can't leave here tonight."

Kantrell frowned. "You're not leaving. I'll lead them."

"You'll lead knights? You're joking, right?"

Kantrell imagined Derel's neck torn asunder by an executioner's blade. It was a project he would have to work toward in the future. For now, he had to deal with the man, despite his irritating manner.

"You will give them my...our orders. They will be following your order not mine. But, as you say, you can't leave here tonight. And I must present the Witch to the Senate tomorrow when my father moves against me."

Derel looked skeptical.

"For the Maker's sake! Hand pick loyal men so there's no risk of anything happening," said Kantrell.

"That's the thing—there are only a few men who I know are loyal, and I need them here."

"What about those men you just promoted? Put one of them in command of the mission—but tell him to take direction from me. That should work."

"If somebody makes a move on me while you're gone, that's one less squad to defend me."

"Look, if you don't help me apprehend the Witch, then my father is going to put us both on trial for murder. You understand that, right?"

"What if we take him out?"

Kantrell was flabbergasted.

It's a logical concept—and not incompatible with the violent methods of our little coup, but the Knights assassinating a Senator? It could start a civil war!

"No, it's too risky. I hate my father, but he can't be killed. The Captain's death will raise enough suspicion. My father's death would galvanize public opinion against us."

Derel turned away and paced around the office. He stopped at the cabinet with the helmets. Suddenly, he drew his knife and smashed the glass with the pommel, sending glittering fragments cascading down to the floor. Next, he withdrew an ancient helmet. He took it to the corner of the room and faced the wall, placing the helmet on the floor. Kantrell realized he was relieving himself into it.

Derel returned to Kantrell after a few moments.

"Listen, things aren't going to be the way they were anymore. You're a part of this, and I need to know you understand that. I'll give you your knights and we'll get this Witch. But after we solidify our power, we are going to move on your father. Are we of like mind?"

Kantrell frowned. Some vestige of his familial pride bristled at the notion of this simpleton taking down a man of his father's caliber.

But this is my partner. For the moment.

"Yes, we are," said Kantrell, looking out the window into the courtyard where the funeral pyre was burning with a renewed vigor.
Chapter Six

Kantrell hadn't realized before this night how awkward it was to move about in plate armor. His movements were strenuous and exaggerated by the armor's weight. He was self-conscious because the squad of knights around him seemed to move with comparative ease. They moved through the neighborhoods on the perimeter of the Warrens toward a tavern on the southern side of the Wizard Tower where Kantrell's spies had indicated a Witch was recruiting illegally. The Witch had unwisely chosen a tavern close to the Elite district. This allowed Kantrell and the Knights to arrive without having to risk a lengthy march through the Warrens and giving time for word of their approach to reach the Witch.

But Kantrell was still nervous that they would be spotted by Hemlock, Tored, or a wizard before they reached their destination. He began to take heart as the white-washed walls of the tavern came into view. The place was called "The Good Life" and was styled as a crude imitation of a tavern that one might find in the Elite district. But where a real Elite district tavern was cleanly painted, bedecked with flowers, and reinforced by large, expensive timber, this building was unevenly painted, dirty, and the timbers that jutted from the roof were crude ornaments fashioned from clay in imitation of the real thing.

Kantrell hoped that the potion he had purchased from a magician favored by those in the Senate would be effective. He'd had an agent test it in the field when one of the Lakers distributed their enchanted lake water. The protection had held even when the agent had poured the water on their hand. But the magician had urged avoiding direct contact with a Witch at all costs. That's where the armor came in.

Kantrell stopped the group outside the swinging doors to the tavern. There was already a murmur of activity coming from within.

We've probably been spotted already.

"Pour the potion over your helmet now, and let it flow over your armor. Hurry. We only have a limited time to enjoy its protection," said Kantrell, being sure to enunciate clearly so everyone understood.

When he was satisfied that each knight had followed his instructions, he lowered his visor and pushed open the doors, entering the tavern.

The smell of the place struck him most strongly. There was a musky odor in the air mixed with normal bar smells like stale ale, hot food, and human sweat. He quickly realized he couldn't see clearly from behind his visor. He knew it was a risk, but he felt the need to clearly assess the situation outweighed the risk. He flipped the visor up.

He saw the groups of Lakers first. They were seated roughly in a circle, intermingled with the less dirty and better-groomed patrons of the tavern. One among the assembled crowd was immediately identifiable as the Witch—but he was a man and not the beautiful woman he'd been expecting.

Kantrell saw the patrons of the bar, including the Lakers, turn and react in surprise to the knights as they fanned out into the room, but he continued to look at the Witch.

The man had a dark complexion with flowing, dark hair. He was un-groomed, but his faint beard and long hair had an attractive appearance, despite their apparent disarray. Kantrell suddenly thought the man was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen—and the fact that he'd be even more beautiful groomed was clear. The Witch wore a flowing red garment that only partially concealed a generous chest and symmetrical bulges of muscle running down his abdomen.

Kantrell became conscious of the knights beside him, and he realized they were watching him for a cue to act. But the Witch was slowly rising from his chair, and Kantrell couldn't look away. He beheld the perfect proportion of the man's body as the Witch stood and then began to walk toward him.

The feeling Kantrell had as the Witch walked toward him wasn't romantic or lustful, it was simply a mixture of admiration and jealousy. It was like his image of what a man could be had been redefined, and he was conscious of his own shortcomings by comparison. But the look on the Witch's face was exceedingly friendly, and the thought of talking with the man was enticing.

The Witch approached slowly—step by step—and with each step, Kantrell became more aware that he was in peril. Yet, oddly, he also became increasingly indifferent to the sense of danger.

"Sir!" hissed the knight closest to him, and Kantrell's will and motivations snapped into focus for a moment, though the newfound clarity felt tenuous.

Through an act of will, Kantrell managed to reach up and snap his visor down. And in an instant, he was himself again. He saw the Witch stop and then slowly start to back away.

As the Witch retreated, he dropped his tunic to the floor, displaying the full extent of his physical perfection. The Lakers in the tavern followed suit, and began to gather around the Witch. He turned to face them and held his arms out to his sides, beckoning those nearest to grasp his hands.

"Grab the Witch! They're trying to use magic!" shouted Kantrell.

The knights rushed the crowd and broke up the circle of Lakers before it was fully formed. Some of the naked people tried to screen their leader as the Witch was being escorted to the back of the tavern.

But then, as if on cue, the knights Kantrell had stationed at the rear of the building appeared at the back of the room with swords drawn, dispelling any hope of escape for the Witch.

The Lakers were pushed aside roughly, and when they tried to douse the knights with water, they were handled roughly and bloodied before being escorted forcefully from the bar along with the rest of the patrons.

Kantrell approached the Witch, who still wore a placid expression despite his obvious peril.

"You are being detained for violating the Senate's ban on recruiting into your cult," said Kantrell.

The Witch looked bored. "It was only a moment of merriment among friends," he purred.

Kantrell turned to the knight beside him. "Beat him until he stops smiling," he ordered.

Kantrell turned away as the sound of fisticuffs erupted. And they didn't stop as quickly as Kantrell had expected.

"Stop smiling!" shouted a knight from behind Kantrell. The subsequent sound of wood shattering demanded Kantrell's attention.

He turned and saw the Witch laying on the floor, covered with red, swelling lacerations. It looked like his cheekbone had been broken, and a nearby knight still clutched the remains of the wooden chair that had been the instrument used to inflict that wound.

Kantrell rushed to the side of the fallen Witch. "Goodness! I asked you to rough him up—not kill him!"

"Sorry," replied the Knight, "he wouldn't stop smiling!"

"Make a litter for him. Let's get him back to the barracks."

...

Kantrell looked around the modest barracks chamber Derel had given him. There was a crudely carved bed and a small wooden stool. In the corner was a large, open dresser where some chain mail and weapons hung from hooks. The setting seemed unfit for the celebratory act he was trying to engage in, but he was too elated to care.

We have secured the Witch along with witnesses that will testify to the Senate that he was violating the terms set forth by the Senate. Father will be forced to open the matter to debate. And I will prevail in that debate.

The brown-haired woman on the bed in front of him turned toward him with an inquisitive look. He realized that he had lost focus on the festivities that were in progress.

"I'm sorry. My mind is elsewhere," he said.

She frowned.

"Important events took place today. Do not be offended. They eclipse even your alluring appearance," he said.

Her face changed from a frown to a pout.

"Get dressed. I will call on you soon. I have an important day tomorrow, and I need to rest."

She rose and dressed without a word, making her way toward the door.

"Don't forget me," she said as she flipped up her skirt, giving him a parting view of her behind.

He smiled in return as she exited the room.

He barred the door and walked back toward his bed. As he neared it, the open window to the city street caught his eye. He wasn't used to being on the first floor. A feeling of vulnerability came over him, and despite the heat of the night, he decided to close and bar the window, too.

As he lay back on the bed, he reveled in the feelings of elation he felt. The fact that he'd been all but ruined made his imminent victory all the sweeter. Then the thought of Derel intruded on his elation. The man was crass and short sighted. He would prove to be a liability and would have to be dealt with. But Derel was also deceptively shrewd, and Kantrell realized that he would have to carefully guard his intentions.

He closed his eyes and began to visualize scenes in the Senate and his impending victories. These precious moments would unfold in a slow progression, and he knew his father would be unable to stop any of it.

It will be nothing short of spectacular!

His thoughts turned to Hemlock, and he considered how she might react to him turning the Senate against her. But he had a card ready to play against her―neutrality. He'd sought an alliance with DuLoc because his father had aligned himself with Hemlock. But now that Kantrell had outmaneuvered his father, he no longer needed DuLoc as a catalyst for conflict. The Senate, under his influence, would declare neutrality and try to make sure any battle between DuLoc and Hemlock occurred well outside the City. Kantrell thought it was likely that DuLoc would prevail. Therefore, Kantrell would send agents to communicate with DuLoc again. If there was an opportunity to betray Hemlock and the wizards, the Senate would have to consider it.

He wasn't sure if he was half asleep, but he became aware of the sound of soft, soothing chimes. The sensation was pleasant, so he let his mind relax as he listened intently. The sound was otherworldly, as if hundreds of small chimes were being played according to a careful orchestration. After a few moments, the gentle sound of a woman's voice joined the song in perfect harmony with the chimes. The music was intoxicating.

He next became aware of a soft light visible through his closed eyelids. At this moment, he realized he was awake and not asleep, and a shard of fear penetrated the remarkable feeling of peace he was enjoying.

He sat up and opened his eyes. The figure of a woman stood beside him in front of the now open window. Her hair blew in reaction to a breeze that suggested the scent of rose petals, and her entire body was covered in a crimson aura. She wore a loose-fitting golden robe, which was belted at the waist with a slender piece of woven silver fashioned in the form of a snake. Her curves were voluptuous, but her waist was slender. Her eyes were golden, and as he stared at them, strange spinning patterns of intricate complexity radiated from them.

The rays from the woman's eyes penetrated him, and he became painfully self-aware. He saw himself trapped in a maze of negative emotions. The acute sting of a lonely childhood and a longing for affection from his father that was seldom received bubbled up inside him. His vision panned up from an image of his childhood self—small and pale—trapped in a lattice of trees that formed a maze that seemed inescapable. Then the woman's radiance seared through that vision and eclipsed it.

"Are you an angel?" he muttered softly.

She smiled and slowly reached down to her waist, touching the belt. It seemed to slither undone of its own accord. The robe hung open and her full splendor was revealed. A feeling of pure desire overcame his senses. He could perceive her with four senses, and each of these sensations accentuated the promise of experiencing her touch.

Something inside him realized that he was on the cusp of a momentous decision.

"Are you Cassandra?" he stammered.

She nodded.

The suspicious part of his mind cried out in alarm, but her acceptance of the accusation seemed to defuse all of his fear.

He found strength inside of himself and realized that he could resist her. But she had showed him something about himself—how pathetic his life had become. He had spent his adult life trying to defeat his father in politics. But she showed him that even victory wouldn't bring him peace. The child inside of him would still be trapped in that maze of emotions and would never get out. By showing him this, she made him want to take her hand—want to have his pain eclipsed by the pleasure of her company.

Ecstatic feelings were coursing through him before he realized he had reached out to touch her.

...

When Hemlock awoke, she felt a remarkable sense of serenity. She stretched out in a leisurely motion, and looked warmly at the morning light that danced through her window. She had come to the Wizard Tower late the prior evening to confer with Miara and Gwineval after word of the uprising within the City Knights had reached her. The wizard council had been in session until the early hours of the morning, and she had accepted Miara's invitation to sleep in the Tower for a few hours before meeting again. Rising, she quickly washed and dressed, wishing to get outside to experience the wonder of the beautiful morning. All of the concern she had felt about the situation in the City seemed to have faded overnight, and she was sure she could slip away for a few minutes before she would be missed.

She left her room and descended through the Tower. Several passing wizards smiled in her direction, and she even heard a distant laugh echo up the great central stairs.

A feeling of concern penetrated her feeling of contentment.

Something is wrong here.

She redirected herself toward Gwineval's chamber. Reaching it, she knocked furiously. A moment later, Gwineval answered, groggy with sleep.

"Do you feel that?" Hemlock asked.

"Feel what?"

"Take a moment to wake up. Then let me know how you feel."

"I feel fine, Hemlock. I might even go so far as to say that I feel wonderful."

"Exactly. And when was that last time you woke up feeling this good?"

"Well, I don't... Well... Wait, I must concede that I do feel unusually good—the best I've felt since the Battle of Castle Stargis. Do you think something is wrong?"

Hemlock had an idea. "Follow me."

She took Gwineval's scaly hand and led him out into the hallway to the fifth-floor lounge—where she knew there was a window that overlooked Hemisphere Lake. She gasped as she looked down over the lake and saw thousands of people gathering on its shore. The obscuring clouds that usually hid Cassandra's graceful sailboat—and the ragtag flotilla that surrounded it—were gone.

Gwineval was the first to exclaim. "What is going on here?"

"I don't know. But despite how good I feel, I don't like it."

"What has Cassandra done?"

"My thoughts exactly. We have to find out. Are you well enough to run?"

"Absolutely not!" said Miara, smiling as she approached them. "You stay here. I'll go with Hemlock."

Gwineval's hand raised in objection but no words came. He lowered his arm. "Fine," he said. Then he added, "I will look after things in the Tower and make sure nobody does anything foolish."

Hemlock and Miara rushed down to the main gate of the Tower and shouldered past a group of wizards who were leaving the Tower in a state of apparent leisure.

As soon as she stepped outside the Tower, Hemlock's head began to feel light and a sense of euphoria gripped her. She stumbled and then stopped on the drawbridge. The undulations of the liquid under the drawbridge now appeared fascinating. She recovered her sensibilities and noticed Miara was mingling with some wizards near the end of the drawbridge.

Hemlock approached her and grabbed her by the shoulders. Miara was glassy-eyed and didn't seem to recognize her immediately.

"Don't you have some kind of counter-spell for this?" asked Hemlock.

Miara gathered herself, closing her eyes in the process. Then she raised her arms and muttered an incantation as she lowered her arms sharply.

Hemlock felt a renewed sense of clarity, which left her in a state similar to how she had felt inside the Tower.

"The spell is only effective in my immediate proximity," said Miara.

"Okay, let's go!" cried Hemlock.

Hemlock shouted to Miara as they ran, "Cassandra's pleasure magic must be affecting the entire City!"

As they reached the end of the drawbridge, they saw Samberlin approaching from the Warren's streets in a state of agitation. He cried out to them, "That Witch on the Lake has ensorcelled us!"

"We know. We're going to get to the bottom of it," Hemlock replied, gesturing for him to follow her. As they circled around the Moat of Acid, they had to navigate streets that were thick with reveling city folk who were apparently making their way to the Lake as well.

"This is a disaster—total chaos!" shouted a winded Samberlin.

Hemlock nodded, but had to suppress a sudden urge to giggle at the sight of the awkward Senator running. Then she realized how odd it was to see him without Guard Knights accompanying him.

First the Knights and now this. What else can go wrong today?

The three runners reached the edge of the lake, but were confronted by a wall of people between them and any apparent means to reach Cassandra. The pleasure magic felt stronger here, and Hemlock was reminded of how she felt after being doused with the lake water in the Warrens. She noticed Miara wandering off and grabbed the wizard, shaking her back into self-awareness. Samberlin was glaring at everyone around him.

Apparently, he's too ill-tempered to be affected by the spell?

Hemlock began pushing through the crowd. It was slow going, but after several minutes, she and her two companions reached the water's edge. A pretty young woman wearing a long ivory robe and a leather headband stood before them in the ankle-deep water. She stood out because most people were facing Cassandra's sailboat, but this woman was scanning the crowd.

"I've been waiting for you," she said amidst the din of the revelers.

The woman turned and motioned to a rowboat that was sitting about twenty feet from the shore. A muscle-bound man rowed the boat toward the shore as the woman beckoned them to enter the water.

As the boat drew up beside them, the crowd began to surge toward it. The young woman ran interference with the crowd, gently pushing them away from the boat with reassuring words as the young man helped the three of them into the boat and then rowed off toward the sailboat.

As they glided toward the distant sailboat, Hemlock marveled at the beauty of the morning sky reflected in the calm surface of the lake. Her companions appeared to be lost in their thoughts as well, so she indulged her own imagination and allowed herself to forget about her mission for a few moments. It was nice to relax and simply enjoy the sensations of the morning.

She was reticent as the rowboat pulled up beside the anchored sailboat. She wished the ride had lasted longer as the context of reality and her mission returned to her. She reminded herself about the crimes that were more than likely being perpetrated at that very moment all around the City. That brought her mind back into focus.

The young man helped the three of them climb the rope ladder toward the deck of Cassandra's cheerfully adorned sloop.

As soon as the three visitors had reached the deck, Cassandra exited from her chambers and approached them. Once the initial dazzling effect of her appearance began to diminish, Hemlock immediately noticed that Faruk was absent from the deck. He had always been at Cassandra's side in the past, so she thought this a bit odd.

Next, Hemlock became conscious of waves of magical energy that seemed to be emanating from directly below the sailboat.

"What have you done?" demanded Hemlock.

"What I was forced to," said Cassandra. "Come into my chamber and you may gain a better understanding."

Hemlock scanned the deck. It was filled with Cassandra's acolytes, but none of them looked threatening. She was wary despite the strong pleasure magic around her, but she couldn't see any immediate threat to following the witch.

"Stay close," she said to Samberlin.

Samberlin's fury seemed diminished, and Hemlock wondered if he was succumbing to the spell, but when he nodded to her, his eyes looked clear and lucid.

The three of them followed Cassandra into her sumptuous cabin. Once Hemlock's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she was able to perceive a figure lying in one of the beds. It was Faruk, and he appeared to be asleep. There was another figure seated in the corner of the room wearing the robes of an acolyte. His head was down.

Cassandra proceeded to the far side of the bed Faruk was in and faced the three visitors. Hemlock noticed something unusual about Faruk. His expression was neutral. She realized she'd never seen him wear anything but a smile. She supposed he wouldn't smile while asleep, but his faced looked particularly vacant—even for a sleeping person.

"What's wrong with him?" Hemlock asked.

"Last night, he was apprehended by City Knights and beaten so harshly that he reached the threshold of death. When I found him, I knew the only thing that could save him was powerful magic—a spell so powerful that it was beyond my abilities.

"But I knew a way to gain the necessary power. Soon after I arrived here, I became aware of a magical power source under the Lake. It was very weak, but my when my sailboat anchored right over it, I was able to detect it.

"I tried to learn more about it by casting detection magic, but I found the spells were reflected back to me with increased force. It was like a powerful counter-spell was repelling my magic and amplifying it as a side effect," said Cassandra.

"So you used this same technique to cast your amplified pleasure spell?" said Miara.

"Yes. And this enabled me to heal Faruk, although I fear I haven't been altogether successful," said Cassandra as she started to weep softly and reached out, taking Faruk's hand.

Hemlock was moved by the Witch's tears and had to fight a strong urge to rush to her side to console her.

"Why would the Knights do this to him?"

"I've healed his body," answered Cassandra, "but his spirit was also wounded. I haven't been able to fully restore that. He has yet to awaken since his ordeal. I think it may be a matter of time, but I'm not sure. Even if he wakes, he may be scarred by what happened."

"And what of the Knights?" asked Samberlin.

"My guest here can elaborate on that," said Cassandra, pointing to the figure with a bowed head.

The man raised his head, and Hemlock was shocked to see it was Kantrell.

"What in the Maker's name?" cried Samberlin.

"Hello, Father," said Kantrell, rising from the chair and approaching. Hemlock noticed that his demeanor was very different. And the implication of the acolyte's robes he wore was unmistakable.

"I apprehended Faruk in a tavern last night. I was with a group of Knights, and we learned that he was recruiting again against the decree of the Senate. I planned to capture him and present him on the Senate floor as a demonstration of your failed policies. But when we captured him, he was quietly defiant. We couldn't get him to stop smiling, so I gave the order to beat him. I didn't intend for him to be hurt so badly, but I am responsible for it," said Kantrell.

"How did you get here?" said Samberlin.

"Cassandra came to me at the barracks. She showed me the error of my ways. I guess you could say I'm atoning for my sins now—sins against Faruk and the City."

Samberlin paused for a moment as if deep in thought. His expression remained placid, but Hemlock noticed an odd twitching of his cheek muscle. Finally, he responded. "We need to discuss many things. Come, Kantrell, stand by my side while we resolve this issue with Cassandra."

"No, Father."

"What?"

"I am with Cassandra now. I've become one of her vassals—willingly, I might add. And I think I made the right decision. I was walking down a destructive path. My rage against you blinded me to my foolishness. As you know, I've played a role in the recent unrest within the Knights. At the precise time the City needs them to resist DuLoc, I've weakened them beyond measure. And what I did to Faruk was unconscionable. I see that now. I see many things more clearly now."

Samberlin turned to Cassandra and his eyes flared. "What did you do to him? He may have done this thing to your Faruk, but in the City, the law of the Senate governs all! You can't judge him and deliver your sentence without our involvement."

Cassandra sighed and then said, "And the fate of Faruk was decided by your mighty Senate?"

"That was a rogue action done outside the law. But you are already under Senate scrutiny. This will be the final straw. You will be banished!" shouted Samberlin.

Cassandra looked down at Faruk's bruised, sleeping face and then grabbed a lock of her flowing hair and began to toy with it absent-mindedly. "And what if you need me to resist DuLoc? What if you also need me to tell you more about the magic under the water? Would you banish one who could do these things for you?" She gave Hemlock a pointed look.

Samberlin turned to Hemlock and seemed to take measure of her response. After a time, he spoke. "Is this true? Have you discussed these things with her?"

"We did discuss her helping us by counteracting DuLoc's law magic. But this is the first I'm hearing about this magic under the water," said Hemlock.

Cassandra spoke matter-of-factly as she stroked Faruk's hand again. "There is an amateur wizard among my new followers. He has reviewed the information I've gathered about the magic and we've also done some experiments. He believes the strength of the concealing magic is such that only a sorcerer of renowned ability could have created it. There have only been a few wizards of this caliber in the City over the years. The Red Mage and the Imperator were the first that came to mind. But neither of these figures left behind any tales that suggested they had anything to hide after their passing. Yet, one tale of lost artifacts does exist. The Imperator's crown, robe, and sword were lost during the reign of the Wizard Julius. We believe the powerful magic below the water is concealing these artifacts."

Hemlock looked at Samberlin in surprise and then at Kantrell. All three of them seemed to be hearing this information for the first time.

Hemlock was the first to respond. "If this is true, then the Seekers have been looking in the Mountains for all these years for nothing?"

Cassandra continued to look down at Faruk.

"We could have figured this out for ourselves," said Samberlin.

"Perhaps. But who among you can look upon what lies under the water? My magic is revealing the location of the hidden source of power right now. A simple spell of water breathing would enable you to investigate immediately. Do you think these artifacts could aid you against DuLoc?" Cassandra asked.

Hemlock looked at Samberlin. "We need these items. This is why we needed Falignus to return to the City. He's directly descended from the Imperial bloodline, so he's the only one who can wield them."

"Fine," said Samberlin, "but we don't need her. She's given us the information freely. I'll concede there's been some measure of good faith in so doing, but there are other considerations."

"Would you banish your own son, Father?" said Kantrell without any hint of the sarcasm Hemlock had grown to expect from him.

"Kantrell," began Samberlin. But then he paused for a moment and seemed to cross some mental hurdle. "Son," he continued, "if you are already addicted to the pleasure magic, I'm sure Hemlock and the wizards can help you."

"I want to stay with Cassandra, Father. This is the beginning of a new life for me. I've shed the chrysalis of anger and despair, and now I have to start my new life," said Kantrell. "So if you banish Cassandra, you'll also be banishing me."

"Kantrell, you of all people understand the Senate. This mass charm or whatever you want to call it is going to spark outrage in the Senators. If I stand alone on behalf of Cassandra, I'll be ousted from the speakership. Whoever replaces me will do so on a platform of banishing Cassandra, and the same result will come to pass," said Samberlin.

Hemlock had an idea. "When you talk to them, you'll tell the Senators that Cassandra's spell was necessary to locate the lost artifacts. That will justify it, right?"

Samberlin considered the idea before replying. "It could work, but it might still leave me vulnerable. Producing the artifacts would be key. If I told them this, and then you couldn't retrieve the items, I'd lose my position. It would be a gamble."

"Now that they've been located, I'm sure we can get them. There may be some defenses, but you're talking about Falignus and I—and Tored. We've been through a lot, and I think we can do this. Plus, I don't see any alternative. I'm certain Falignus is here for this exact reason," said Hemlock.

"Fine. I will take this risk for you. But you must stop this spell immediately," said Samberlin.

Cassandra sighed. "But they need to locate the items first."

"We need to hurry then. The entire City is gathering outside. There must be innumerable crimes going on," said Samberlin.

"I wouldn't worry about that," said Cassandra. "Only the strongest minds can resist the spell, and I'd be surprised if you couldn't count those individuals on two hands."

"I'll fetch Falignus and Tored. Can you send your heralds to ease our passage?" asked Hemlock.

"Of course," said Cassandra, turning and giving the order to a woman standing nearby.

"What should I do?" said Miara. "I need to tell Gwineval what's going on. He'll want to join you on your mission."

"Impossible. He's still recovering. The spell will be broken once we locate the items. You should start casting protection magic on the wizards and then on any knights that may be affected," said Hemlock.

"I can tell you how to handle the knights," said Kantrell to his father.

"I'm listening," said Samberlin.

"Imprison Derel and his top lieutenants. There was a bold knight who defied Derel and then left the order when nobody supported him. Seek out this bold knight and make this man the new commander of the knights. Let him lead the raid. That should minimize the bloodshed," said Kantrell.

Samberlin nodded his head. He appeared to be composed, but Hemlock could see the torment in his eyes as he seemed to come to grips with the fact that Kantrell was going to stay with Cassandra. "You know where to find me if you reconsider this," he said to Kantrell. Samberlin began to say more but turned abruptly and strode toward the door.

The group left the elegant sailboat on the same rowboat they had arrived on. The lake was thick with swimmers as they rowed back toward shore, and the size of the crowd on the beach was staggering. But the heralds of Cassandra opened a way for them, and they were able to pass through the crowd and reach the avenue that surrounded the lake, where they split up. Hemlock bid farewell to Samberlin, who was heading to the Senate, and Miara, who was heading to the Wizard Tower. Hemlock headed to the Warrens to talk to Tored and Falignus.

As she walked, she realized there was a chance Falignus would decline to join her. And she wasn't sure what she would do if that happened. The prophecy spoken to her by Amarank's child left no doubt that she needed Falignus to defeat DuLoc. And she was sure the revelation of the location of the Imperator's artifacts was no mere coincidence. Falignus simply had to wield the Imperator's sword against DuLoc. To her horror, she realized that if she couldn't persuade Falignus to join her, she would have to beg him—no matter what the consequence to her sense of pride.

As she approached her apartment, she saw Tored loitering in front of their block with a watchful look in his eye. He cast an appraising gaze on a bleary-eyed woman who stumbled down the street and past them toward the Lake.

The woman did a clumsy pirouette as she walked and turned to them. "Isn't it a wonderful day?" she slurred, continuing on without reacting to the deep frown on Tored's face.

"Will you be here for a while?" Hemlock asked as she reached the door.

"Yes," said Tored, clearly wondering at the question but too proud to ask why she had asked it.

She didn't indulge his curiosity. "I need a few minutes alone with Falignus. But I need to talk to you soon after. Can you stay here until I come back out?"

"I suppose," he responded.

Satisfied with that answer, her mind turned back to Falignus.

She found him sitting in the dark shadows of his room. His pallor and gaunt appearance were even more pronounced. And he was visibly quaking. Hemlock could perceive a spell of warding surrounding him and blocking the siren song of Cassandra.

"You look a mess," she said with a hint of jest in her voice.

"I've been better," he said, looking out into space.

"You need to feed. It's obvious."

"I am feeding. I've been feeding on animals. I'm fine."

Hemlock circled him and sat in a chair directly in his line of sight. "It's not working. Have you used a mirror lately? You look half dead."

"Well, I feel about the same way. And, given my nature, I guess it's an appropriate way to look."

"That's stupid. You can feel better than this—you deserve to."

"Do I? After all the lives I've stolen? Maybe existing like this is a penance of sorts."

Hemlock tried to swallow her feelings of frustration and continued in a calm voice. "You have a gift."

Falignus chuckled scornfully but didn't interrupt her.

"You may see it as a curse—but it's a gift. Your bloodline makes you one of the most powerful individuals in the City. You have a direct influence on the future of...everything. How many people can say that?"

"I used to have that power, but you wrested it from me, remember? And maybe it was for the best given some of my decisions toward the end. I became no better than my father—and after my banishment—far worse."

"I brought you back to restore your power."

"That's not entirely true. I'd say you brought me back to augment your own power."

"That's only true if you assume that we have different goals. We both want to save the City from DuLoc, right?"

"True. Although he who destroys a thing must replace it with something. We agree on eliminating DuLoc, but we differ on what should come after."

"Do we really differ that much?" asked Hemlock. "I don't intend to control things once DuLoc is gone."

"You don't intend to control, but you do intend to influence, I think. You will stay out of things provided things are proceeding according to your plans."

Hemlock paused. "I admit, I haven't thought too far past DuLoc. I want to restore my father's vision for the City. That's true."

"So what does that mean? Does that mean the wizards control things? Or the Senate? Or some combination?"

"Probably the latter. The people need direct representation. Miara's bylaws should reform the wizards. The Senate may need reform as well."

Falignus sat upright and there was a fire in his eyes that belied his frail appearance. "But you can't sit back and hope that things develop properly, Hemlock. You should assume control and make sure they do. After DuLoc falls, you will be the unquestioned power in the City."

"So you'd have me rule in DuLoc's place as an Empress? I don't think that's what my father would have wanted. He wanted people to have choices. That was his core belief."

"Why do they need choices when a leader with vision can guide them on the best path? This is where we differ. I never intended to harm anyone, but I turned to dark magic to try to retain my power when you threatened it. I never meant for any of this to happen. I had a vision for the City!"

"You can still have a voice!" She paused, regaining her composure. "You could be in the new government."

"Do you seriously believe that? I would say my reputation would preclude me from any elected office."

Hemlock thought for a second. "Well, perhaps I could have you appointed to some position. I don't agree with your view that government should control everything, but there's a place for your viewpoint in the new government. All voices should be heard."

Falignus shook his head and then slumped back into his seat. "I appreciate you trying to placate me, but I understand that my time for power has passed. I've seen the future, Hemlock. There are no paths to power left to me save one―becoming a vassal of DuLoc. But I've seen that future, and it is bleak. DuLoc doesn't have any interest in sharing power. And he'd outlive me by centuries."

"Well, if you've used your prescience, then you probably know what I've come here to ask," said Hemlock, hoping that he didn't.

"It's easier for me to see further down timelines than to see the immediate present. And much of what I see never comes to pass. So, I am in suspense."

"It appears Cassandra has located the Imperator's artifacts at the bottom of the lake. I want you to join Tored and I on a mission to retrieve them."

"Well, that explains the pleasure magic emanating from the lake." Falignus raised a hand to his chin and looked at the ceiling for a few moments. Hemlock waited hopefully until he spoke. "So now you present me with another moral dilemma by asking me to recover and presumably wield items that are imbued with the will of the Imperator himself? What will I become with you as my savior? You will turn me into something worse than DuLoc!"

"Merit said Julius was able to use the sword and the cloak without being overcome by them."

"Are you sure about that? How did Julius behave later in his life? Didn't he act more like the Imperator than a simple desert warlord? He founded the Wizard Guild, for goodness sake! My father desperately wanted those items. That should warn you away from them."

"But we can't just leave them there. DuLoc has surely heard of Cassandra's magic by now. It won't be long until the Seekers arrive at the lake. If the Seekers recover the items for DuLoc, who's to say what he might be able to do with them."

"DuLoc was no friend of the Imperator."

"True, but maybe he could repurpose them somehow. He's allied himself with the Seekers. There must be some purpose in that."

"They're an effective fighting force for him. Didn't Otticus say that he thinks the Seekers are cursed to seek the artifacts so they can die and end their suffering? If that's true, then maybe we could persuade them to abandon DuLoc. Then this plan would make some sense."

"I feel like we need to do this, Falignus. And I don't think Tored or I will be able to even touch the items. We need you."

"And what if I no longer need you?"

"You need me."

"How so?" said Falignus, looking slightly amused.

"You need me to feed. I'm the only one who you can feed from without killing them. If you don't feed from me, you'll eventually break down and murder someone."

Falignus' smile faded.

Hemlock continued. "You know it's true. You've been sitting in this room for weeks trying to deny the inevitable."

Falignus' fist rose and smashed down on an adjacent table. "If that's the truth, then it's your truth as much as mine. You should have left me in Ogrun!" He glared at Hemlock.

"I know that's not true," said Hemlock. "We are meant to be together. But you have to feed from me. Why is that so difficult to acknowledge? I had it planned almost as soon as I learned about your...condition. But you've been so distant and irritable. I didn't even know how to bring it up!"

Falignus paused and his reddened face slowly regained its normal pallor. "That's because it means more than just sustenance to me."

"Me too," said Hemlock, reaching out to hold his hand.

Hemlock could tell her touch was uncomfortable for him. But he didn't recoil like she feared he would. She could feel his hand trembling—could feel the unnaturally cool temperature of his flesh. She wanted him to make love to her, but she realized he was far too weak. She touched his neck tenderly and pulled his head toward her, turning to the side to expose her neck.

"Do it," she whispered.

He hesitated for a moment—just a moment—before savagely setting upon her neck. She felt a sharp pain and then his hands grasped her arms in an iron grip that astonished her. Bestial claws extended from his fingers and dug into her forearms and her back as he fully embraced her. She gasped in pain, and any illusion she had that the feeding would have an erotic overtone was dispelled.

She could feel her life energy being drained. The sensation reminded her of the opposite of waking up groggy from a long, midday sleep. She was descending into a foggy, disconnected state. The realization that she was out of control came next. This brought with it feelings of alarm, which were quickly followed by the strange sensation of drawing energy from other dimensions.

She lingered in this transitory state between life and death for what seemed like an eternity—so long that she began to despair of ever returning. But, eventually, she became aware that although Falignus was still embracing her, there was no longer any pain. And the sensation of drawing power from outside of her had receded.

She became conscious of being in a reclined position, resting in Falignus' arms. He looked down on her tenderly. As his face came into focus, she almost gasped audibly. His appearance was fully restored to that of a vigorous young man. He was still somewhat pale and hollow-cheeked like he had always been, but he had regained an aura of hidden power that she remembered noticing the first time she had seen him in the Tower.

"I'm sorry," he said. He had a cloth in his hand and was staunching the blood from her neck.

"Take it away," she said, referring to the cloth.

He squinted skeptically as he cautiously pulled the cloth away from the site of the wound. She saw his eyes widen as he looked at her neck. She knew that the wound had already closed.

She felt her strength returning rapidly. "I'm feeling better."

"Good. I hope it wasn't too unpleasant."

"Ummm. There's no way to sugarcoat it. It hurt. A lot." She saw him frown deeply and rushed to interject. "But it's okay. It's passed now. And you look...amazing."

He wasn't consoled. "Hemlock, this is terrible. I can't continue to do this to you."

"You have to. And you pointed out that I brought you back. I knew what I was in for. What's a little pain in the grand scheme, right?"

"Nobody wants to hurt those they are close to."

"Are we close? It sure hasn't felt like it."

He paused for a moment as if assessing her strength. "Let me make you feel good."

"I thought you'd never ask," she said as she reached for him.
Chapter Seven

The afternoon sun had begun a lazy descent toward the horizon by the time Hemlock, Tored, Miara, and Falignus made it to Cassandra's ship.

Miara had sent wizards throughout the City to place wards over the Senators and Knights against the pleasure magic. Order had mostly been restored—due in no small part to the fact that most of the citizens had reached the shores of the Lake where they were easily controlled by a cordon of Knights.

The four adventurers now stood on the deck of Cassandra's ship.

Miara was busy casting spells on the three who were going to dive for the artifacts. She cast a spell of water breathing first. Next, she cast a spell which gave each of them a glowing radiance that would allow them to see and be seen in the darkness of the deep water. Finally, she cast a spell that created fleshy folds between their fingers and toes to help them swim.

"I'm done," said Miara with a weary sigh.

Hemlock looked over her enchanted hands and inspected them. Although it wasn't unexpected, the fact that the new flesh felt like a part of her still surprised her.

"Are we ready? We just swim straight down, right?" asked Hemlock.

"Yes," said Cassandra. "You will see the trail of my spell. I believe you are going to find the ruins of the Imperator's tower down there, and you should expect it to be heavily warded. I don't think you'll be able to see it with the naked eye. Hopefully, you will be able to feel an entrance, even if you can't see it."

"It could take a long time to find an entrance by touch," Hemlock grumbled. "And it could be sealed."

Cassandra shrugged. "Unfortunately, I can't foresee what you'll find down there."

"Stop your spell in an hour unless we return and tell you otherwise. That should be enough time for us to get in. And if we can't, we'll let you know before the hour is up," said Hemlock.

Cassandra bowed slightly. "Faruk has benefitted from the extra time my spell has been in effect. Thank you for allowing that."

Hemlock nodded in return then quickly touched her side to verify the presence of her sabres before she dove toward the water.

She penetrated the surface of the lake and the sensation was refreshing. The water was cool against her skin, but she found the effect was pleasing and felt that it focused her. She swam downward with several strong strokes and appreciated the effect her webbed hands and feet had in making her a stronger swimmer. She paused when it started to become uncomfortable to hold her breath. It took her several moments to remember that she could breathe normally because of the magic spell Miara had cast. She took a tentative breath and was surprised to feel air enter her lungs. When she exhaled, a stream of bubbles left her nose.

Tored and Falignus settled into a hovering posture near her. Their shimmering forms appeared ghost-like, although the effect was lessened by streams of air bubbles that resulted from their exhalations.

Hemlock looked down and saw only darkness. She used her magic sense to find Cassandra's spell descending downward in a line. She also perceived the strong radiant magic emanating from a distant point in the same direction. She motioned to the others and then started to swim again.

There were few fish or other signs of life as they descended. Those fish they did see were pale and large, and they flitted away rapidly as the swimmers disturbed the peaceful silence of the depths.

After several minutes, the ending point of Cassandra's spell and the source of the radiant magic was visible to Hemlock. But this focal point of magical energy just looked like the rest of the murky water around it. The sensation of pleasure was becoming disconcertingly strong as they neared its source. Hemlock paused and pointed down, and then motioned to Tored and Falignus to follow. To their credit, both men looked more focused than Hemlock felt under the power of the magic that swirled around them.

She feared to get any closer to the source, and so she swam to the side and then descended until she was around the same depth as the magical focal point. As her perspective changed, she became aware of a cylindrical net of energy intersecting the point which was repelling and amplifying Cassandra's magic. She could perceive the visually obscuring aspect of this net of magic, and it had a directional component that suggested it might only obscure sight from the outside. She made what she hoped was an urgent motion to Tored and Falignus to halt, and then carefully inspected the net for any suggestion of a physical barrier. There was no evidence of that type of ward or any other trap-like effects.

She cautiously descended through the magical field. Each part of her body that passed through the magic thrilled at its touch. But when her head passed through to the other side of the field, the sensation of pleasure halted abruptly.

She was left feeling level-headed as she floated below the glowing net of magic that only she could see. But none of this magic cast any light on the vast, dark bulk that lay below her feet. The form of a great tower lay on the floor of the lake. Old stone was visible but covered in patches by a glowing, crusty substance. This gave the tower an overtly supernatural appearance. It was broken near its middle, and its length was so vast that the darkness of the water obscured its full magnitude. It was intricately crafted and featured flying buttresses and parallel lines of stone that became ridges running down the length of it. Many of the buttresses had broken off, but those that remained resembled fins on a giant whale. Hemlock looked to her right toward what appeared to have been the bottom of the structure and noticed the base wasn't present. Only a shattered stump where the base of the tower had been sundered was left.

She turned back toward her companions as they crossed the magical net and joined her. They both looked resolute, which reassured Hemlock. She turned and swam toward the nearby end of the tower that was broken.

The sheer size of the tower impressed Hemlock. It was clearly larger than the Wizard Tower—and by a large margin. It made Hemlock wonder about the Imperator and what he had been like. She tried to imagine a more terrible foe than DuLoc and shuddered at the thought. The architecture of this tower suggested it was made to terrify. The parallel ridges on it gave the impression of serrated edges, and Hemlock imagined flesh being flayed in the most painful fashion.

She put these thoughts aside as she rounded the broken base of the tower and swam around it. As she turned toward the interior of the tower, the light that Miara had cast around her illuminated their surroundings out to a score of yards. She saw a fine granite ceiling that was riddled with holes and interspersed with the remains of great columns—most of which had snapped off, leaving only the ruined curves of an ornamental capital where it had met the ceiling. A few of the columns did remain, and they reminded Hemlock of fractured bones as they hung at unnatural angles.

Hemlock swam farther down toward the center of the opening and got closer to the former ceiling, which now rose in front of her vertically. Most of the holes in this barrier were small and dark. There was one opening in the middle, however, that was larger and less shadowed. The remains of a staircase explained its former purpose.

Hemlock pointed toward the large opening and Tored and Falignus nodded in agreement. The three of them swam toward it and as they got closer, their auras of light revealed a once ornate stairwell that extended deep into the tower and farther than the murky water allowed them to see. The patches of glowing crust were less evident around the opening.

Tored swam into Hemlock's field of view and began to gesture. He spread his arms and then motioned forcefully toward the opening with a look of growing frustration on his face.

" _You'll soon exhaust yourself if you keep that up,"_ said Falignus' voice in Hemlock's head.

Tored turned his head sharply and Hemlock realized he had heard the voice, too. She looked at Falignus.

" _I've cast an ESP spell. Just talk in your mind and think in our direction, and we'll hear you."_

" _Hello?_ " thought Hemlock tentatively.

" _Hi there,_ " came Falignus' voice in response.

" _This opening shows signs of the regular passage of something large,_ " said Tored.

Falignus swam forward. " _He's right—this strange, glowing covering_ _is all over the rest of the outside, but it's not present in this opening._ "

" _It would be wise to enter through one of the smaller openings,"_ said Tored.

" _I agree,"_ said Hemlock, although she felt impatient to discover the mysteries of the tower.

Together, they swam across the exposed interior of the tower until they reached one of the small openings. As they peered inside, they saw a small chamber with a large crack in what had been the ceiling. The glowing crust illuminated from within and gave it an appearance that reminded Hemlock of the corpse-light she'd encountered when facing the wraith of Falignus' father, Zaringer.

Seeing no obvious perils inside, Hemlock cautiously swam into the exposed chamber. It was a large room, and several clusters of mottled wood were nearly all that remained of the former contents of the room. The exception was a large, rusty iron furnace that dominated one corner. There was an open doorway that led into what had been a hall. But Hemlock's attention went to the crack that led farther into the interior of the tower.

She swam toward the fissure as the others entered the chamber on her flanks. The crack was larger than man-sized and there was enough room to swim through. The chamber on the other side, similarly illuminated, was smaller and had been adorned with half-columns that now were cracked and pock-marked.

" _I'm swimming through,"_ Hemlock said.

There was no response, so she propelled herself forward with a few strokes of her webbed feet. She entered the smaller room. The remains of several long stone tables rested on the lower part of the room and partially obstructed an open doorway leading into an adjoining hall.

She looked back at Tored and Falignus as they entered. She pointed to the doorway below her, which was the only exit from the room. The hall beyond the doorway was darker―presumably because the glowing crust was only present there in a thin veneer. Hemlock thought the darkness in the hallway had a foreboding quality to it.

As if triggered by the sense of caution she felt looking at that dark opening, a strong vibration like an earth tremor shook the tower and stirred up the water within it.

" _What was that?"_ Hemlock asked.

" _It felt like something large moved inside the tower,"_ said Tored.

" _If Julius hid this tower this carefully, I'm sure he also left some other surprises behind,"_ said Falignus.

Hemlock started to turn back toward Falignus when she caught a blur of motion out of the corner of her eye. Turning back, she saw a long, fleshy mass approaching her quickly. At first, she thought it was a snake of some type, but it weaved back and forth as it approached her in a way that was suggestive of a larger bulk connected to it behind the doorway.

" _Something's coming through the door,"_ she said.

" _From behind us, too. It's a tentacle!"_ said Tored.

Hemlock didn't bother to look behind her. She drew her saber awkwardly and used her feet to stabilize herself as she thrust forward into the approaching tentacle. Her blade penetrated it easily and the mass stiffened in shock before thrusting back and forth violently, leaving cloudy blood where it passed. The motion generated a current that drove Hemlock backward. She kicked her feet to advance as the tentacle withdrew behind the doorway and hovered there, swaying back and forth.

She looked behind her and saw that Tored had also driven back a tentacle behind them, but it remained outside the doorway and blocked their exit.

The rumbling vibration came again, and this time, it was accompanied by a strange primordial cry that could be heard through the intervening water. Its distance was uncertain.

" _It would appear these treasures are guarded as we feared,"_ said Falignus.

" _Indeed. It blocks our advance and exit,"_ said Tored.

" _Can you cast a spell on it?"_ asked Hemlock, looking at Falignus.

" _I'm not experienced in underwater spell casting... I will try a beam of searing light. But the water will reduce its effectiveness,"_ said Falignus. _"Shall I direct it toward the doorway ahead or the doorway leading out?"_

Hemlock didn't hesitate. " _Ahead."_

Falignus waved his arm in an arc and then pointed it toward the tentacle in the inner doorway. A bright light shone forth and struck its target. Immediately, there was another rumbling and both tentacles shuddered and quickly recoiled out of view.

Hemlock swam forward slowly and peered through the doorway and into the hallway beyond it. She quickly recoiled and swam backward as another rumble was felt and a tentacle smashed down the hallway toward her position with great speed. It advanced past the doorway and then there was another rumble as it receded just as quickly.

Hemlock swam forward again and looked down the hall. It curved gently out of view at a distance of about sixty feet. There was an inner door about thirty feet down the corridor.

" _I think we need to swim hard for that inner doorway_ ," Hemlock said.

" _It's a long swim. If that tentacle returns, we'll risk being hurt badly,_ " said Tored.

" _Is there a choice?"_ asked Hemlock.

" _Is there another door closer?"_ asked Falignus.

Hemlock looked out again. " _No, that's the closest door._ "

" _If we go toward the center, we'll be heading toward the larger opening. Presumably, whatever made it and is attached to those tentacles will be able to maneuver and attack us there,"_ said Falignus.

" _True,"_ said Hemlock.

" _I will swim in the opposite direction that the tentacle came from and look for another door. You both can swim in here while I'm gone. I don't know if this creature can sense our movements but it appears to be the case. If it strikes again, hopefully it would strike out at this room,"_ said Tored.

" _No way. I can swim faster than you can. I will do it,"_ said Hemlock.

She kicked her legs hard and pushed out into the hallway with powerful strokes. She considered that her strong swimming might attract the attention of the creature more easily, but she wasn't willing to embrace stealth in the face of the rapid attacks the tentacle had made.

" _Are you swimming?"_ said Hemlock.

" _Yes,"_ said Tored.

Hemlock had gone about twenty feet when she spotted an opening in the ceiling where the stone had given way. It was large enough for two people to swim through side by side.

" _There's an opening here!"_ she said.

Just as she finished that thought, she felt a strong current at her back.

" _It's coming again!"_ said Falignus.

Hemlock swam toward the opening and kicked her feet with all her might. She felt supernatural power coursing through her, and she swam with superhuman speed. As she cleared the threshold of the opening, she looked down at a huge flailing tentacle as it passed below her—the fleshy cups on its underside mere inches away from her webbed toes.

Next, she heard a whooshing sound as the tentacle reversed course and twitched violently as it receded. Judging the threat to have passed, Hemlock turned her attention to the chamber she had entered. What had been its ceiling now lay in ruins to her left, leaving a gaping hole to another chamber on the floor above. The contents of the two rooms appeared to have merged during the collapse. There was mottled wooden debris mixed with various iron pots and cauldrons that were more numerous in the far chamber.

Suddenly, something caught Hemlock's eye. It looked like one of the tentacles was moving on the other side of an arched doorway at the far end of the distant chamber.

" _There's another tentacle here,"_ said Hemlock.

" _Return to us,"_ said Tored.

Hemlock considered Tored's words as she swam slowly toward the other chamber. She saw more than one tentacle undulating beyond the arched opening.

" _Wait, I can see more than one tentacle. I think the creature itself may be nearby,"_ she said.

" _Get out of there!"_ said Falignus.

" _No, I'm safe here, I think. I just have to be careful not to make a strong current. There's a man-sized doorway here. It can't get to me,"_ said Hemlock.

" _You don't know that,"_ said Tored. " _We'll come to you but fall back to the doorway just in case."_

" _Okay,"_ said Hemlock.

She slowly pulled her arms backward and then pushed them forward in a wide, even, sweeping motion. This propelled her backward while she continued to watch the opening. She thought she could see a large mass behind the moving tentacles, but she needed to get closer to be sure—and she was now heading away from the opening.

She felt a slight current and turned to see Falignus slowly entering the chamber behind her. She pointed at the arched opening, and Falignus began to swim forward for a better look. She fell in beside him.

As they got closer to the opening, Hemlock was sure she saw the larger mass she had noticed earlier.

" _I think I can see its body,"_ she said.

" _Yes, I think you are correct. Perhaps we can strike it from here and catch it unawares,"_ said Falignus.

" _I'm almost there. Be cautious,"_ said Tored.

" _We can handle this thing, Tored,"_ said Hemlock.

" _Are you so sure? This guardian must have been placed by Julius. Surely there's more to it than simply giant size?"_ said Tored.

" _Isn't the giant size enough?"_ said Hemlock.

" _He has a point. Any wizard of ability could cast the spell I was contemplating. Julius would have realized that—expected it, even,"_ said Falignus.

" _Great. So where does that leave us?"_ Hemlock asked.

" _Maybe we have to fight it without magic,"_ said Tored as he reached the others.

" _Seriously? The thing is the size of a building!"_ Hemlock looked at Tored in disbelief.

" _What if we stab it in the eyes?"_ said Falignus.

" _You don't have a weapon besides magic,"_ said Hemlock, looking at Falignus.

" _True. But I've already used magic on one of the tentacles and it didn't have any negative effect on me,"_ said Falignus.

Just as she heard Falignus' last thought, Hemlock noticed a darkness obscuring the arched opening. Where the great mass of a creature had been visible through the door, now there was only a deep darkness. An inky cloud of black covered the door and was advancing slowly but steadily toward them. Many small points of light flickered inside the cloud. Hemlock sensed a pattern of death magic in those gently flickering lights.

" _Look! There's your negative effect. Death magic,"_ said Hemlock.

" _We were too bold,"_ said Tored.

" _If that's in response to my spell, then it would be targeting me. I will swim to the far side of the room and see how it behaves,"_ said Falignus. He swam farther into the chamber with the arched doorway and stopped at the wall, which was about forty feet from Hemlock and Tored. There was a subtle but perceptible change in the undulations of the inky cloud. It had changed course and was now advancing toward Falignus.

" _It's coming for you,"_ said Hemlock.

" _I can't use magic. It will probably get stronger if I do,"_ said Falignus.

" _That means it's up to you and me to deal with this creature,"_ said Tored.

" _We'll swim right through there and kill it,"_ said Hemlock.

" _We need to avoid the cloud. Falignus, stay here and gradually retreat as the cloud advances. Do not allow the cloud to touch you. Retreat to the room we were just in if it gets too close. Hemlock, you and I need to return to the central passage and confront the creature directly. We have to hope it is distracted by its attack on Falignus,_ " said Tored.

" _Fine,"_ said Hemlock. She didn't particularly like Tored taking command, but she didn't have a better idea.

Tored and Hemlock swam toward the central door that Tored had just entered and then went in the opposite direction they had originally come from. This quickly led them to the central tunnel that had presumably been hollowed out of the remains of the tower by the leviathan. The two swimmers inverted themselves and peered into the large opening.

The tunnel was roughly circular and extended about fifty yards into the interior of the tower. At the end of it, they saw the head of a great kraken surrounded by the thick trunks of several tentacles. The great beast seemed to be wrapped around a large, spherical object that looked incongruous with the stone materials of the rest of the tower. The sphere reflected the glow of the surrounding stone and appeared to be metallic.

The visible part of the octopus wasn't moving, but a single, large eye whipped to and fro in great agitation. It looked down the passage toward them but then shifted its great bulk, rotating the eye away from them.

" _The cloud is accelerating._ _I'm moving into the hallway now,"_ said Falignus.

" _We don't have much time. We need to charge,"_ said Hemlock.

" _The thought occurs to me that I might be immune to the magic,"_ said Falignus.

" _We can't assume that,"_ said Hemlock.

" _I agree,_ " said Tored.

Hemlock wasn't certain how she'd battle the creature as she swam forward recklessly. The thought of Falignus being in danger increased her focus.

" _I'll distract it,"_ she said. " _You go for the eye!"_

Just as she said that, she saw the creature tense up and a long tentacle emerged from a side passage and whipped toward her. Since she was underwater, the approach of the tentacle and her desperate evasion played out in slow motion. Fortunately, her enhanced strength combined with the magical webbing on her feet gave her enough speed to evade the attack. Tored, who was slightly below and behind Hemlock, had to stop rapidly to avoid slamming into the path of the appendage. The tentacle itself passed through a ruined wall and slammed into a dark room behind it, vibrating the entire fallen tower with the force of the collision.

The torso of the creature rotated back toward the opening as Hemlock swam even faster toward it. The great eye was still agitated, but this time, it focused clearly on her as she approached. This should have alarmed her, but she was without fear due to the battle energy coursing through her.

" _Hemlock!"_ said Tored, but she didn't allow it to distract her. She gripped her sabres tightly and imagined them ripping out the giant eye that seemed to peer at her malevolently from mere yards away.

But the creature, silent and brooding for long years in the calm of the deep, was not unprepared for the great speed of Hemlock's approach. It had been bred by Julius himself, and the latter had anticipated many forms of magical attack.

As Hemlock hurtled toward the great eye, the creature shifted suddenly and with great effort—and two things happened. First, a smaller tentacle located on an inner ring inside the larger ones lashed out at Hemlock with astonishing speed such that she was unable to avoid it completely. Second, the octopus' body rotated and drew itself up, and in place of the great eye, there was now a hulking, beaked maw that opened in anticipation of Hemlock's approach.

The tentacle struck her and she was stunned. Everything went black and a chill seemed to grip her as she floundered uncontrollably. Next, she saw a great flash and had a strong sensation of constraint. There was a temptation to give way to the calming effect of the darkness, but Hemlock fought it.

" _Hemlock is unconscious!"_ said Tored.

" _I'm on my way!"_ answered Falignus.

Hemlock was aware of what they were saying, but the implications seemed separate from her. She felt like an impartial observer. But, still, she fought the darkness.

" _No, avoid the cloud,"_ said Tored.

" _What's the point if Hemlock is killed?"_ said Falignus.

" _Hold on! If I can wound the creature, it may let her go,"_ said Tored.

She started to understand the words. She realized the crushing sensation she was feeling was one of the giant tentacles wrapped around her. She blinked her eyes furiously and tried to reconcile the fuzzy images she saw with what was happening around her.

She perceived Tored swimming hard, thrusting with his spear, and trying to avoid strikes from the tentacles. Each time the creature struck out, Hemlock was flung from side to side like a rag doll in the creature's grip. Worse still, she had dropped one of her sabres and the other was held at the end of an arm that was pinned at her side uselessly.

But a sense of power started to grow in her that once again pushed aside any feelings of fear or doubt. Soon, her body began to quiver as the energy strove for release. But she held it back and waited for it to build to a crescendo.

The sight of Tored losing his spear and being captured by another tentacle provided an obvious cue for her to act.

She pushed her arms apart violently and broke the iron grip of the tentacle. In the next instant, she struck downward with her single sabre and severed the tentacle from its base. Dark blood streamed from the falling tentacle and the remaining stump as Hemlock launched herself downward to retrieve her fallen sabre.

As she grasped the hilt, she looked upward. Tored was struggling in the grip of a tentacle that was drawing him toward the snapping maw of the creature. A large, baleful eye stared at her as she surged upward to rescue her friend. The force of her swimming was so great that it displaced the blood in a wide radius as she swam through it, obscuring the vision of that great eye in the process.

She reached Tored just as the beaked maw began to close on him. She sliced the tentacle that was holding him, penetrating halfway through it and loosening its grip. Then she turned and stabbed into the flesh inside the mouth, recoiling and striking again several times before the mouth released Tored's arm.

The creature reacted spasmodically to the many wounds it had received.

" _Behind you!"_ said Falignus.

Hemlock grabbed Tored's cloak and swam upward with all of her strength. She felt the displacement of water behind her as no less than three of the greater tentacles whipped reflexively toward the creature's mouth.

Another great eye rotated near them as they swam, and she saw the large iris expand to focus on the two swimmers.

She made a split-second decision.

She released Tored and kicked away from him by using his body as leverage. This propelled her toward the great eye and Tored away from it. She accompanied the initial force of her jump with titanic kicks and reached the eye even as the creature closed it and rotated away from her in self-defense.

She used her sabres to slash at the eye, and she ruined it, releasing a viscous substance into the water from the tattered flesh that reminded her of an egg yolk being scrambled.

She swam away hard as more great tentacles hurtled through the water to strike at her most recent location.

But soon, the motions of the creature became erratic. With a sudden, lurching motion, it launched itself off the great metallic sphere it had been enclosing and swam down the large opening of the ruined tower. Soon, the final trailing tentacles emerged from the surrounding hallways and then recoiled in concert, thrusting backward and launching the octopus away at great speed.

Hemlock swam through a wave of strong current resulting from the departure of the creature and took stock of Tored. He had a grievous wound on his arm that was spilling blood into the water. Tored was in the process of trying to tear his clothing to make a bandage, but it was difficult to do under water.

" _You have to go to the surface,"_ Hemlock said.

" _Impossible. That creature isn't even dead!"_ said Tored.

" _What's the alternative? You bleeding to death down here with us?"_ said Hemlock.

Falignus swam toward the pair, his features taking on a look of concern as he perceived Tored's wound.

" _I agree with Hemlock. Get to the surface. We're past the guardian now. We'll be okay,"_ Falignus said.

Tored shook his head, but it was obvious that he was losing too much blood to remain.

Hemlock pushed him away from the sphere and toward the exit that the Octopus had taken. " _We wounded it badly. That thing isn't coming back,"_ she said.

" _And if it does, I'll use magic on it,"_ said Falignus. " _That dark cloud cornered me, and I had to try a counter-spell against it. My spell magnified the power of the cloud, but I was able to keep it at bay."_

" _You don't know any of these things for sure. But I guess I won't do anyone any good if I lose consciousness down here. I will go to the surface and get the wound bound and then return,"_ said Tored.

As he swam off, Hemlock and Falignus turned their attention to the metallic sphere that the Octopus had been encircling. It was close to twenty yards in diameter and covered in runes. Hemlock could see the runes were magical and emanated an extremely potent form of death magic.

" _It says, 'Royal blood may enter but none may leave,'"_ said Falignus.

" _The thing looks like a giant death spell. This may be pointless unless you can counter that magic somehow,"_ said Hemlock.

" _Let me try something,"_ said Falignus. He began to wave his arms and mumbled some words Hemlock couldn't quite hear. A slender beam of green light left his finger and made contact with the side of the giant sphere. There was a flash and red energy crackled down the beam toward Falignus. He snapped his arm back and broke the connection just before the red beam struck him.

" _The spell is too strong. It's the strongest spell I've encountered short of the spells supported by the Wand of the Imperator. And it's defended on all the magical axes—there's not a way to bypass it. As if the iron wasn't enough,"_ said Falignus.

" _Maybe there's a door,"_ said Hemlock.

" _Why would there be? If Julius made this, he certainly didn't want anyone to enter,"_ said Falignus.

" _But the rune talks about entering. I'm going to look anyway. You never know."_

Hemlock swam around the sphere while Falignus remained behind, studying the runes. Just as she began to despair of finding anything, she noticed a stone extrusion below her. She swam down to it and was stunned to see it was, in fact, a door.

" _There's a door here!"_ she said.

She studied the stone around the door. It was inlaid with a smaller rune that wove a more complicated spell. Aided by the description in the runes on the outside of the sphere, she perceived the components of a spell on the door that would bar the passage of anyone not descended from the Imperator's blood line.

Falignus reached her and she told him about the spell she saw on the door.

" _It would appear that Julius didn't want anyone except his blood descendants to enter. I've never read that he mistrusted the Red Mage. I wonder why he didn't foresee that one of his descendants might seek the artifacts?_ " said Hemlock.

" _Nobody knew the Red Mage had any heirs. Maybe he just didn't anticipate it. What would the point be, anyway? It's not like anyone from your bloodline can use the Imperator's items,"_ said Falignus.

" _You have a point. But this means I can't enter with you. I don't like it,"_ said Hemlock.

" _If I enter, I'll be killed if I try to leave. At least that's what the runes imply. But there may be something Julius didn't anticipate._ "

" _You're already dead, aren't you?_ "

" _Yes, after a fashion, anyway. I'm certainly not like I used to be before our encounter in the desert. But will that make me immune to the death spell?"_

" _I'm not sure. It sounds risky. I know we need those artifacts, and my dreams implied you would be wielding them. Nobody else can. But if you can't wield these items against DuLoc, then there's no point seeking them,"_ said Hemlock.

" _So what do we do? Just leave?_ "

" _I don't know. I don't feel right asking you to risk your life to try it. But I can't see any other alternative._ "

" _Me neither. Even my prescience is useless now!_ "

Neither of them said anything for several minutes. Hemlock slowly swam around, looking for other irregularities on the surface of the sphere. Not finding any, she returned to the door where Falignus floated.

" _I'm going in,_ " he said, finally.

" _I don't like it,"_ said Hemlock.

" _I don't either, but I trust your dreams. Also, I can't see much purpose for my existence beyond helping you. Like we discussed, I'm not truly alive any more. I'm in some limbo state—some intermediate step between life and death. Hopefully, it will be enough to save me from the death magic."_

Hemlock reached out and grasped his arm. It was nearly as cold as the clammy water surrounding them. She nodded at him.

He nodded back and swam forward through the doorway. As he passed through, he pierced some invisible barrier and entered a waterless space full of stale but breathable air. He took one final look back at Hemlock, then turned to his left and passed out of her view.
Chapter Eight

As he walked down a dimly lit hallway, Falignus felt a keen awareness of his lineage. He wasn't sure whether it was some side effect of the magical field he had passed through or if the knowledge of the magical barrier and the reason he had been able to pass was simply making him more reflective.

He thought about his father, Zaringer, and how he and his forebears had decided to abandon Imperial magic in favor of natural magic. The death magic that Zaringer had been so passionate about was based on the Red Mage's magic—not the Imperator's. Somewhere along the line, his ancestors had chosen to make that change in focus.

But why?

There was light ahead, and the hall opened into a massive space. As he approached, he saw the huge chamber was a library that appeared to encompass the entire interior of the sphere except for the entry hall he stood in. There were bookshelves lining the curved walls and a network of platforms with great ladders interspersed them, providing access to innumerable volumes. Falignus was certain he was looking at the greatest collection of books in the City. It made the library in the Wizard Tower look small in comparison. The bookshelves extended almost to the very top of the interior of the sphere.

Why would there be a library in here?

Falignus tried to direct his thoughts to Hemlock, but there was no response.

He stood on the brink of the large space for several moments and just took the scene in. He noticed a great, stagnant feel to the air around him. He marveled at the thought of being inside a huge ball of metal the likes of which he had never seen before.

I may literally be breathing air from the Second Age of the City!

He took a few steps forward and noticed his feet left footprints in a thick layer of dust. He looked around at the books nearest the door. Most were covered in some visible dust, but a few weren't.

At the bottom of the sphere, there was a flat platform upon which rested an ornate wooden desk and a dais. A tarnished suit of armor stood on the dais, and an open book rested on a pedestal beside it. Iron platforms girdled the interior at intervals from the bottom platform up to the top of the sphere, with steps leading from one platform to the next. Wooden ladders were attached to the bookshelves above them on iron tracks and rested on each platform on wheeled bases. Footprints in the dust were everywhere.

Sitting prominently on the ornate desk and resting under a shimmering cube of magic were the items he sought. A golden crown, a folded cape, and a sword with a golden blade dazzled beneath a magical dweomer and showed no signs of decay or tarnish. The crown and the blade shone with a brilliance that dazzled his eyes and left no doubt that they were items of great magical power. The folded cape glowed softly and gave a similar impression.

His mind returned to the footprints.

Something is here. After all these years!

Falignus waited several more minutes. But nothing changed. In fact, there was little sound at all except for infrequent noise from the structure of the sphere that reverberated with a dull, echoing thud and gave Falignus the impression it was caused by the weight of the water surrounding the hollow ball of metal.

Falignus thought of Hemlock waiting outside and decided it was time to cautiously approach the artifacts. He walked down steps that led to a platform that was separated from the bottom by three intervening ones. He paused on the platform for another minute.

Observing nothing, he walked slowly to the next set of steps leading down. His footfalls might as well have been strikes of a blacksmith's hammer as they reverberated throughout the hollow sphere, despite his best effort at stealth.

Whatever is in here knows that I'm here.

He continued to advance cautiously, becoming ever more sensitive to the fact that Hemlock waited outside for him without knowing his fate. He estimated that he'd already been gone at least ten minutes, but the caution seemed necessary.

Finally, he reached the dais and inspected the cloak, sword, and crown resting under the shimmering field along with the open book and aged suit of armor. Something about the scene discomfited him. He had the distinct sensation of being watched.

He waited stationary for another five minutes in the eerie isolation of the sphere, but nothing happened. Thinking of Hemlock again, he decided to climb onto the dais and approach the artifacts.

As he did, he heard a groaning sound of metal on metal. He turned toward the sound and realized it seemed to have come from the armor. The empty, shadowy helm was unmistakably facing toward him where it had previously been staring straight ahead.

Do not disturb the objects.

Somehow, he knew that the suit of armor had spoken to him although the words formed in his mind and were not heard with his ears.

"What are you?" Falignus asked.

I am a guardian, doomed to await the heirs of the Imperator who might seek his weapons.

"Are you going to try to kill me, then?"

That is your decision. I will not allow you to take the objects.

Falignus turned toward the field surrounding the artifacts. It appeared to be a simple spell of warding. He considered the common counter-spell that would dispel it.

"Why won't you allow me to take the objects?"

They are cursed to bring despair and suffering to the world. They are too dangerous to be wielded.

As he prepared a counter-argument, he became aware that he was functioning as Hemlock's mouthpiece. He had spent many years orchestrating his own maneuvers through subordinates. Now he was subordinate to Hemlock. He didn't like the feeling. But he felt compelled to play his part.

"We face a great evil in the form of one of the Imperator's lieutenants. We can't defeat him without these artifacts."

The figure in the armor paused as if considering this statement, then replied. _Even if that were true, were you to win, you would become more dangerous to the City than the foe you face._

"I have no wish to inherit the mantle of the Imperator. My bloodline has diluted over the years. My ancestors turned away from Imperial magic toward death magic. They sought eternal life and ultimately it proved to be an evil and fruitless endeavor. I am...different...now. I believe I could wield these items without being consumed by their evil."

And what man who entered here would think differently? Your high ideals won't protect you from the temptation. You speak of death magic. Spells can be woven to cheat death. My presence here attests to that. But there are things worse than death. I've discovered that over these long, long years.

"You speak like a man? Are you alive?"

A part of a life was placed inside me long ago. I consider myself to dwell in a shadowy state between life and death.

"The same might be said of us all."

Are you able to feel the warmth of a sunrise on your face and smell the blossoms of spring? It is one thing to have the power of thought, which I have. It's another to be able to experience the myriad sensations of life. I remember enough about real life to torment me.

"So, you were not always like this?"

No, once I was a man. Or part of a man. Some portion of the man yet remains—but I am not what I used to be.

"Who did you used to be?"

Don't you suspect already? You seem to be reasonably intelligent.

"You are Julius—founder of the guild of Wizards and architect of the Wizard Tower."

Well done. And why am I here, dwelling like a ghost? Why am I waiting here down through the centuries?

With this there was a swirl of magic and Falignus suddenly found himself held aloft. Somehow, the suit of armor had moved too quickly to perceive, perhaps under the guise of illusion, and now stood beneath him with its arm upraised and its gauntlet clutching Falignus' neck.

I'll answer my own question since you are now under duress. I am here to prevent ambitious fools like you from seizing the Imperial artifacts and subjugating the City. I failed the City in many ways during my first life, but in this role, I shall not fail.

Falignus struggled to speak. "I am here to protect the City!"

I told you about the temptation. What makes you think you could resist it? I've felt its terrible power, and I've succumbed to it. How could you succeed where even I failed?

"I can't explain while you have me suspended like some animal being measured for the slaughter. If you intend to kill me—get it over with," hissed Falignus.

The ghost in the armor slowly lowered him back to the floor and released him.

You speak like a warrior. I will listen to your explanation.

"I was everything you fear I am. Ambitious, ruthless, and lacking in compassion. I was just the latest in a long line of desperate, immoral wizards. But then a strange girl came into my life. She had the audacity to break into the Wizard Tower, and she attracted the aid of some wizards. This ultimately led to my downfall. I fell in love with her somewhere along the way, but in my pride, I still tried to kill her... Even when she came to rescue me.

"I was banished to another realm. Once there, the effects of the death magic I had relied upon were fully realized. Like you, I dwelt somewhere between life and death. I'd always considered myself a man of principle, but in hindsight, I saw how selfish I had been. All the things I thought I was doing for the City had really been for my own power and glory.

"I was little more than a wraith haunting the sands of some foreign desert. I became predatory like an animal. And then a powerful sorceress enslaved me. I didn't care about being enslaved—I didn't care about anything. All I cared about was escaping from my pain.

"The girl came for me then, and she rescued me from the sorceress. But she hasn't been able to rescue me from myself. Still, she means everything to me. And the City means everything to her. I am helping her to defend it. She is the daughter of the Red Mage, long hidden on the outer worlds through the rise and fall of the Imperator and beyond."

The spirit in the armor did not move for a full five minutes. At least, it seemed like five minutes by Falignus' reckoning. He was also silent.

Your words have damaged my resolve more than all my years of torment. Do you understand the wards I placed on this globe? You cannot leave here without dying.

"I am not sure what it would mean for me to die, but I am willing to risk it for her sake."

That is just. My heart soars at the thought of the Red Mage having a daughter who has returned to the City. How I would love to meet her. There are many volumes in here that describe the Red Mage. I think I understand the man and his vision now. He created the City but had to allow evil in it to serve his greater purpose. If his daughter can perpetuate his vision, it will be a great boon.

A question sprang into Falignus' mind. He wanted to ask about the purpose of the City. But he hesitated. The spirit seemed to be sympathetic to him, and he was afraid to disrupt this newfound accord.

"Will you allow me to take these items, then?" he asked.

Yes. But you must promise me something. When you are tested, and your pride swells, and you begin to think of other goals than what you have told me, remember me. Don't hold on to the power these items will give you. And, when the time comes, return them to this watery tomb.

"And what will you do?" Falignus asked. "You could help us defend the City."

The spells preserving my spirit are bound to this place. I cannot leave it. And I am ready for death. If this daughter of the Red Mage survives your battle, then she will restore the City to its former greatness. If she loses, then you will die, and the Imperator's bloodline will be ended. There will be no one left to wield these artifacts. Your visit is a great help to me. I thank you for making the sacrifice to come here and risk your life to return to the City. If you win and you can still have children, then perhaps you will guard this place in your own way against your progeny. They too will be tempted.

There was a small tinkling sound like shards of glass falling to the floor. Next, there was a metallic sound as the suit of armor slumped and then fell to the floor with a great clatter.

...

Hemlock was getting increasingly anxious. Falignus had been gone for at least half an hour, and she began to fear the worst. She examined the magical barrier protecting the entrance to the great iron sphere. The spell was startlingly powerful, and she didn't hold out any hope of penetrating it. She doubted that even her great, magically enhanced strength could penetrate the thick iron wall of the sphere.

Suddenly, there was a shadowy figure standing behind the shimmering barrier. She was certain it had not approached in any conventional way. It had just appeared. Furthermore, she could tell it was a magical projection. The space behind the barrier was not underwater. She had become so used to the distorted appearance of the submerged environment that seeing the figure without that distortion accentuated the hallucinatory quality of it.

" _Where is Falignus?"_ she demanded, not realizing she had tried to communicate with her mind like she had been doing with the others.

Do not fear for your friend. He is unharmed.

" _Can you hear me?"_

Yes. I understand you claim to be the daughter of the creator.

" _I am his daughter."_

How do you know?

" _Why are you asking me this? Where is Falignus?"_ said Hemlock, inching toward the barrier.

The figure held its arms up in a cautionary motion.

Beware! The barrier will kill you if you touch it.

Hemlock swam backward.

" _Answer me!"_

I am discussing the transfer of the artifacts you seek with your friend. He will appear soon. In the meantime, I wanted to speak with you before I depart.

" _Where are you going?"_

My time here is over. I am the guardian of the Imperator's artifacts, but now they are being released to your friend. My hope is his unique state of being will allow him to survive the death magic I've woven into this place. But, in any case, my work is complete.

" _Alright. Well, if that's true, then I appreciate your help. Will he be out soon?"_

Yes. May I ask you a few questions?

" _Alright."_

How do you know you are the daughter of the Red Mage?

" _Dreams, at first. Then my mother told me the tale of how he visited her on an outer world and lay with her. He left her instructions to deliver me to an inner world at a certain age."_

I see. It makes sense. He delayed your coming to the City long enough to allow for the Imperator's bloodline to dilute and fall into decadence. Listen to my words before I depart. I've resisted the call to depart for so long. Now that I will finally be able to rest, the temptation to do so is becoming unbearable.

I've spent many lifetimes reading the ancient volumes contained in this sphere. I've had time to cross reference many accounts of historical events, and I've formed a clear picture of most of the City's history. Knowing what I know now, it's clear I lived my life poorly. I was uninformed and unprepared for the challenges my heritage brought upon me.

But your presence here heartens me greatly. You are the City's greatest and last hope. But I must leave you with two warnings. First, beware the temptation your friend will face when he uses the Imperator's artifacts. You may be forced to put him down if he proves unable to resist it. I barely managed to resist, and my resistance proved incomplete in the end.

My second warning is to beware the Imperator's plans. Do not fear his direct intervention—he is long dead—but his plans may not have died with him. He greatly feared the continued existence of your father's City. Just like your father planned for events after his death, I fear the Imperator may have done the same.

With this last statement, the armored figure began to turn away.

" _Wait! How did the Imperator kill my father?"_

He killed him by proving that the City is governed by fundamental physical laws.

" _What?"_

The figure continued to slowly turn away and then disappeared completely. But a final answer came as Hemlock saw Falignus walking into view behind the barrier.

The Imperator showed the people that they could be wizards. And the people desired this power. They begged your father to allow them to wield magic. Your father understood the danger this posed because it opened the door to the abuse of magic. But, ultimately, your father decided to allow the people to become wizards. The Imperator manipulated some of these wizards to kill your father. Your father didn't fight for fear of tainting his creation. You became his plan for the eventual salvation of the City.

Hemlock was so enthralled by this narrative that she scarcely noticed that Falignus stood before her holding a golden robe within which were cradled a crown and a sword. She recovered herself in time to project another question to the mysterious entity.

" _Why couldn't my father fight without tainting the City?"_

But Falignus was already walking through the barrier in front of her.

" _Wait!"_ she thought, but it was already done.

Falignus wavered as the barrier passed through him. His flesh began to constrict around his bones, and his face became gaunt.

" _What is happening!"_ cried Hemlock physically, although no air was in her lungs.

Suddenly, the armored figure appeared again in a flash, once more animated by the shadowy figure. He picked up Falignus in his arms and carried him fully through the barrier. As the armor passed the barrier, the presence within it seemed to dissipate.

Hemlock rushed forward to grab Falignus' motionless body and the artifacts he had carried. The suit of armor, now master-less and visibly empty in the primordial glow of the lichen, drifted past them as Hemlock looked at Falignus' face. His face was ashen and shriveled. He looked more dead than alive, although Hemlock still felt a weak pulse at his neck.

" _You must wake up!"_ she pleaded, holding his face and striking it awkwardly as the water impeded her slap.

His eyelids fluttered and then one of his arms jerked reflexively. He grabbed Hemlock and his mouth descended on her outstretched arm in a fluid motion. Hemlock didn't resist as he bit into her flesh and started to consume her life's blood. The suction became painful after a while and she felt her grip on the artifacts loosen. Blackness appeared at the periphery of her vision, and still Falignus drank greedily. She tried to reach out to the other spaces where she could draw power, but for some reason, she was unable to.

Soon everything went black.

Chapter Nine

Tored grimaced as Falignus forced his way past him to Hemlock's bedside as she awoke. Tored knew they were lovers again. He didn't even try to conceal his disdain as he watched Falignus leaning over her.

She lifted herself onto her elbows in the bed where she'd been resting since Falignus had brought her back to the surface of the lake, unconscious.

"No, don't get up," said Falignus.

"He's right, Hemlock," added Tored, moving to the foot of the bed.

"How did I get here?" she asked.

"I carried you back to Cassandra's boat," said Falignus.

"The artifacts?" she asked.

"Safe. They are in the other room. Miara wanted to keep them in the Tower, but I refused. Items this dangerous belong with me," said Falignus.

"So, you did it," she said.

"We did it," said Falignus.

Hemlock noticed Tored's bandaged arm. "Is it bad?" she asked.

"No," Tored said mildly. Falignus had already explained what happened in the sphere to him. It made him uncomfortable to think about it. Matters of gods and immortality were not his concern. He preferred the concrete and the palpable. He knew Hemlock was more than a typical young woman, but the impressionable girl she had been was still a part of her, and Tored preferred to think of her that way.

He turned his attention to Falignus as Hemlock and the young wizard chatted.

_He is a monster in human form,_ Tored thought.

"Tored, did you hear me?" asked Hemlock.

"No," he said gruffly.

"There's a meeting of the wizard council tonight. You've been invited. Will you go?" she said.

He disliked meetings as a rule, but he knew this one would be uniquely important, and he felt he had to be present to influence policy where he might.

"Yes, I will go," he said.

"Good," said Falignus. "This will be a council of war. We need you there."

Tored was not impressed by the compliment. He knew Falignus was as much a politician as a wizard. The political part of the young man hadn't surfaced much since his rescue from Ogrun, but Tored noted this manifestation of it.

Are the artifacts already affecting him?

He thought Hemlock was making a huge mistake in trusting Falignus, and he expected it would end in the man's betrayal of her. Tored wasn't confident Hemlock would be able to do what was necessary when that moment finally arrived, but Tored knew he would be ready.

"I must go see Otticus," Tored said.

"That's a good idea," said Hemlock. "We'll need him in the coming battles."

"He may not be ready. But I will do my best. More for his sake than ours."

"Why won't he have his wizard tattoos reapplied? I understand it would be humiliating to train with the novices again, but I'm sure he'd learn at an accelerated rate," said Falignus.

"He's stubborn and proud," said Hemlock. "That's why we're sending Tored to talk to him," she said with a glimmer of humor in her eye.

"I'll be back soon," said Tored without smiling. He wasn't in the mood.

...

Otticus had insisted on leaving the Wizard Tower after being released by DuLoc. His meager savings had only allowed him to rent a cheap apartment in the southern part of the Warrens. Tored had to pound on the door for several minutes before Otticus finally answered. Neighbors were shouting obscenities at Tored as the front door of the apartment finally opened with a pronounced creak.

Otticus was unshaven and visibly dirty. When he greeted Tored, deep tea stains were visible on Otticus' teeth. When he spoke, his words blended together sloppily. Tored could hardly believe it.

Tored strode into the apartment, trying to ignore the smell. The only furnishing was an old stuffed mattress resting on a crude frame. Debris was strewn all over the floor.

"You left the Wizard Tower for this?" said Tored flatly.

"I jus' couldn't stay there," Otticus said, pointing to his forearms. "Not like this. I'm not a wizard anymore. I'm just a man."

Tored considered how to reply. He was disgusted by the state of the young man, but at the same time, he pitied him. He tried to be diplomatic.

"Stop tarrying here and prepare yourself to train. There is a war coming. You must be ready."

Otticus engaged Tored with a penetrating stare and then broke into spasms of hysterical laughter. "Me? Ready? I'm not fit to be a Knight's page anymore!" His laughter caused him to lose his footing and trip over the mattress, falling backward onto the floor. This didn't blunt his laughter, however.

Tored felt his pulse quicken. He charged toward the young man and kicked him in the chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and halting the abrasive laughter. Tored put half his weight on Otticus via his foot which remained over the younger man's sternum.

"Recover your wits, you fool! This isn't a game. You can return to the Wizard Tower and train or you can train with me and continue what Rulwher started to teach you. You remember Rulwher, right? The man who sacrificed his life for you? Your conduct dishonors his memory!"

Otticus wasn't smiling anymore.

The younger man pushed Tored's leg to the side and rolled away with surprising strength. Otticus rose, resting on his forearms and knees.

"Rulwher? He was a good man—but he was also a drunk. Let's call a spade a spade. I doubt he'd have much to say about my taking to drink."

"That doesn't matter now, and you know it. The man died on a mission under your command. He was old and might have developed some bad habits. But he was a warrior at heart. A warrior like you, Otticus! You're wrong to think that he'd approve of this."

"What do you want from me? DuLoc took away my abilities. Don't you get it? I can't fight anymore. I lost it all."

"You lost the tools, but DuLoc can't take your fighter's heart. Only you can give that up. You can't afford to do that, Otticus. If you run away from this fight—the fight to relearn your skills—then you are as good as dead already. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You're as strong a fighter as any in the Tower. And you're as fast as any Tanna Varran. Either fighting discipline is open to you. You'll excel at either one. If you start training now..."

Otticus interrupted by kicking over some cups on the floor, shattering them. "Just leave me alone!"

Tored took a step closer and lowered his voice to a monotone. "If you start training now, you will be ready to fight in a few weeks. You are talented enough to make that happen. Hemlock is counting on you. There's a council of war tomorrow at the Tower. You have been invited to attend. I'll wait for you at sunrise outside the Tower. If you do not arrive before Hemlock does, then I won't wait any longer."

Tored turned and left without waiting for an answer. He hoped that he'd gotten through to the young man. If he was a betting man, he'd have laid the odds at about half.

...

The special council meeting was assembled in the Wizard Tower. Extra chairs had been brought into the audience chamber on the first floor because there were many guests at this meeting—non-wizard guests. Samberlin was there, representing the Senate. Tored was there and so were Merit and Falignus. The entire wizard council of Brannor, Gwineval, Miara, Caetor, Lalpa, and Renevos was also present. A sullen Otticus had made himself available, having been added at the last minute at the request of Tored.

Hemlock regarded the wizards as they sat in their ceremonial seats on the raised dais at the interior end of the hall. Loose chairs had been placed in a line below the dais, facing toward the wizards. Hemlock thought the arrangement seemed to split the room into two factions, and she hoped this didn't foreshadow actual discord during the pending proceedings.

She thought about the vision of the other worlds she'd had in this chamber when she had first touched the Wand of the Imperator. That had been a defining moment for her and she hoped this meeting would be as well.

There was a loud thud as the doors to the chamber were closed and secured. Hemlock looked back over her shoulder to confirm that nobody else had entered. All she saw behind her were the two rows of wizard statues that lined the central walkway and were the defining feature of the room.

Everyone who had been invited was present.

Gwineval cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him. Hemlock noticed his forked tongue was flitting about in the front of his mouth, and then he began to speak.

"Welcome, friends of the City. We are meeting to discuss policy regarding the self-proclaimed Sub-Imperator DuLoc. You are all aware of the background of the situation with DuLoc and the danger he poses to the City.

"We have obtained some additional information that may be news to some of you. First, as DuLoc claimed, Castle Stargis has been re-taken by his allies. This happened a few days ago, and fortunately, there was little in the way of bloodshed. It appears the south was trying to take a neutral position in this conflict, but DuLoc exploited a traitor and overran the Castle. The royal family has fled, and their forces have scattered. Although the southern military is in disarray, many mercenary fighters from the south have reportedly joined DuLoc's forces.

"Also, Penelope the Griffin has reported that DuLoc has an army advancing from the eastern mountains toward the City. We know DuLoc has created a network of Imperial magic in the mountains by linking the Imperial runes there with his obelisks. He appears to be building a set of magical obelisks as the army advances toward the City. We think he may be trying to link with the Imperial runes that exist under the City.

"If DuLoc is allowed to form this link, he may become unstoppable. Logic dictates that we must march out of the City to confront his army before he can complete the link. I have to assume that DuLoc will anticipate this move and has plans to fall back to the cover of his obelisks if we attack. Therefore, I believe we will be best served by sending a small force to engage his flank and destroy an obelisk immediately to his rear. Based on my research into Imperial magic, this will significantly limit the magic boost he gets.

"Penelope the Griffin has bravely volunteered to carry a few individuals to attempt this. We will coordinate this surprise attack with an advance by our army of wizards and Knights."

Miara broke in with a question. "You make it sound like we need to attack immediately. But it might take DuLoc some time to complete his obelisk link. We could wait to attack. We could use the extra time to train and consolidate our forces."

Gwineval turned sharply toward Miara with a questioning look. She held his stare and didn't waver. Gwineval broke eye contact with her after several moments, and his gaze scanned the room as if he had forgotten the other occupants for a time.

He finally spoke with a tone of formality that Hemlock thought sounded forced. "DuLoc might also use that time to increase the size of his force. I believe the obelisks may have a power-multiplying effect depending on the numbers he is able to build. I believe there is an advantage to attacking sooner.

"Now, on to the matter of..."

"But DuLoc has probably been planning this attack for weeks, whereas our preparations have only begun to get serious after the latest scouting reports arrived. Given the short time we've had, I think some extra time would benefit our side more than his," said Miara.

This time, Gwineval responded to the interruption with an undisguised glare. "Miara, I respectfully disagree. Both the Wizard Tower and the Knights have been mustering supplies for a march to battle for many days now. The Knights maintain a constant level of battle readiness and the wizards have been training for several weeks. If you are referring to our militia benefiting from additional time, I am not counting them among those I expect to march beside us."

"A company of Tanna Varrans will also march with you," said Tored flatly. "They are all warriors."

"Cassandra has also volunteered to fight with us—in her own fashion," said Hemlock.

Samberlin turned to Hemlock and his body tensed as if he was about to speak. But then he looked away and relaxed back into his chair.

"We could use extra time to coordinate these groups and form a battle plan," said Miara.

Some murmured their approval of the idea as Hemlock responded. "We can't afford to wait until the last minute. DuLoc has already surprised us by revealing the City runes. Who knows what else he has planned? We need to press our attack now while he is well outside the City."

Gwineval nodded approvingly. "My thoughts exactly."

"I also agree. The City must be isolated from this conflict," said Samberlin.

Miara cast Hemlock an angry look. "You're wrong. We shouldn't rush headlong into battle without a well-rehearsed battle drill."

Gwineval rose, shouting, "Miara, what is the meaning of this counsel? We spoke about our plans for hours before this meeting began, and this never came up. Why are you trying to delay us?"

Miara shifted in her chair and looked at the floor.

"Wait, I have it now. You're worried I'm not ready. You seek to gain more time for me to return to bed rest. Admit it," said Gwineval.

"Fine!" said Miara, looking at him. "I know you're too stubborn to heed my advice on the matter of your health, Gwineval. You are foremost among those who will say you are ready and fully recovered. But I see the grimaces of pain when you move, and your slow, hesitating movements when you think nobody is looking. You are not fully recovered. A day or two more of rest might mean the world for you."

Hemlock looked at Gwineval and tried to recall recently seeing him in obvious discomfort. She couldn't. "Gwineval, is she right? Do you need more time?"

"No," said Gwineval without hesitation. He looked at Miara as he continued to speak. "I wouldn't say I am recovered if it wasn't the case. You are right in one respect. I do still suffer odd pains from time to time. But I've read Imp...texts on the matter and this is a well understood aftereffect of magical overextension. We still have a few days' time before the battle. And this effect only produces pain—it doesn't impair my ability to use my magic."

Hemlock shifted in her chair.

He's been reading more Imperial books. I had hoped he'd stop researching Imperial magic. Should I confront him or let it pass? Best to let it pass for now, but it will need to be addressed before the battle.

Miara's brow furrowed and she looked at the floor. Gwineval tried to catch her eye, but he was ignored. After a barely detectable shrug of his shoulders, he continued to speak.

"The next order of business is an announcement. I have conferred with my colleagues in the Wizard Tower and we've decided to deploy a squad of wizards familiar with Imperial magic. They will assist me in the coming battle. Renevos has asked to join this group as have Miara and a group of lower ranked wizards."

Gwineval looked at Hemlock as he continued. "I know some of you are concerned about the risk the Imperial magic might pose when facing DuLoc, but we feel that the power of the Imperial magic will give us an advantage and help us defend against DuLoc's attacks, which will surely be based in Imperial magic."

Hemlock tried to remain calm and resisted the urge to rise from her chair. She settled for scooting forward as she delivered her counterpoint. "Gwineval, I've told you that I've foreseen the ruin that Imperial magic will bring. Remember, its very nature goes against the principles of freedom this City was created with. Imperial magic seeks to bind and restrict. Even the death magic of the old Seventh Circle is less tainted than Imperial magic. You need to reconsider this!"

"We will not. I am well aware of your position on this matter. Furthermore, I have personally destroyed two Wands of the Imperator at your behest. If we still had those Wands, then perhaps we would not face war with DuLoc because he would respect our strength. Imperial magic is empirically a more effective form of battle magic than the wild magic we've traditionally worked with. As you know, wild magic is unpredictable by nature, so our schools of magic focus it and break it into its component parts like a prism splits light into colors. These parts can be individually controlled to yield desired effects. Imperial magic, on the other hand, is fully malleable in its core form. We must use it against DuLoc," said Gwineval.

Hemlock tried to control her anger so she could make a convincing counter-argument. But when she looked around the room, the faces she saw showed that Gwineval's words had influenced everyone.

Suddenly, something clicked in her mind. How many times had she experienced a vision of a black dragon when she had used her wild magic powers to channel from other dimensions? She had always dismissed the visions, despite the fact they had become increasingly vivid. She had a sudden feeling that the dragon was a symbol of Imperial magic. Somehow using her powers had awakened the power of the Imperial magic. But how and why?

She realized the pause in her reply had become very lengthy. Gwineval was fidgeting in his seat and looking at her impatiently. And then it came to her.

"The best reason not to use Imperial magic is the fact that we don't understand it. I've mentioned that I've had visions of the Imperator destroying the City with his magic. We'll, I've had another recurring vision, too. It's a strange vision that I don't fully understand. But I realize it has something to do with the Imperial magic. And here's the thing—I believe DuLoc does understand the nature of Imperial magic. And he was around to learn directly from the Imperator. Do you really believe that your months of research will be a match for his knowledge?" she asked.

Gwineval started to respond but Renevos spoke over him. "I've studied the Imperial magic myself. Rather than being mysterious, it seems very well thought out. It's a battle magic—pure and simple. It is crafted for control and destruction. I see it as a weapon—a weapon that our enemy is wielding against us. If you have a dagger and your enemy picks up a sword, will you ignore the spare sword on the wall? Can you afford to? That is how I see this decision."

Hemlock opened her mouth and then closed it again. She wasn't sure how to restate her argument without simply repeating it. She was sensitive of the potential fractures in her alliance with the Wizards. If she took a hard line on the Imperial magic, then it might open up the risk of further defections to DuLoc. She decided not to reply. Renevos gave her a questioning look, but she replied with an icy stare.

After a few moments, Gwineval spoke in a soft voice. "Have we all had our say on this topic, then?"

Hemlock nodded. She now feared that she'd have to deal with the Wizards after DuLoc was defeated. She knew wielders of Imperial magic were her natural enemies. But there was nothing that could be done now without jeopardizing the union of the forces opposing DuLoc.

"There is the matter of the artifacts," said Gwineval.

"The Imperial artifacts," added Renevos.

"They will be used to oppose the Imperial magic," said Hemlock, glancing at Falignus. He nodded in agreement.

"Merit, can you tell us how the Imperator used his artifacts?" said Gwineval.

There was a small popping sound from his steam boiler as Merit rose and spoke. "Little has been written about the time of the Imperator, but we can piece together some of it. As you know, the Imperial artifacts were fashioned as a deterrent against the Wands. The Imperator gave a Wand to each of his Sub-Imperators, but the Wands were crafted so they could not be used against the bearer of the crown, robe, and sword. Julius used the artifacts themselves to great effect. They hold a great power above and beyond their ability to resist the power of the Wands."

"What kind of power?" asked Samberlin.

"The power to resist so-called wild magic, great power over Imperial magic, and complete power over any magic conjured by the Wands," said Merit.

"So DuLoc will be powerless against us?" asked Miara.

"I have not even tried to wield the items yet," said Falignus sharply.

"Why not?" said Gwineval uncertainly.

"My time away from the City changed me. I've been recovering from that. Also, the artifacts are supposed to be tainted with the evil spirit of the Imperator. I was warned about the risks of these artifacts by the one who guarded them. I'll not use them unless the situation is desperate," said Falignus.

"So, you don't know whether you will be able to resist the darkness in these items?" said Samberlin. "Let's imagine for a moment that you can't resist the evil. Can someone paint me a picture of what happens then? Do you become some sort of demon under the influence of the Imperator's spirit?"

Falignus shrugged with an air of nonchalance.

Hemlock saw Samberlin's eyes go wide with shock and indignation. She interjected quickly. "We will watch Falignus carefully. If he can't handle it, we'll take the items from him—by force if necessary."

Samberlin rose. "But what if you can't, Hemlock? You are playing with powers you don't understand. Falignus may end up being a bigger threat than DuLoc if he loses control."

"My visions have been clear on this point, and two ancient spirits have set us on this path. I'm sorry, but these artifacts and Falignus' role are bigger than..."

Samberlin glared at Hemlock as she paused and considered how to be diplomatic. "There are cosmic forces in play that are difficult to understand unless you see things like I can."

"So, we're completely in your hands on this? How convenient," said Samberlin.

Hemlock felt flush with anger. "Look, Gwineval has already said he's going to use the Imperial magic. I think that's a mistake, but I know I can't change his mind. I'm not forcing my choices on the City where I can avoid it. But Falignus' role in this coming battle is a point I can't negotiate. We won't win this battle unless Falignus uses those artifacts to help us. Rest assured of that!"

Samberlin was undaunted. "This is your battle, Hemlock. You and Falignus should meet him alone outside the City. Don't lead the Wizards and our Knights to their deaths. Who knows what's going to happen? Why risk all of those lives when the battle hinges on using these artifacts?"

"DuLoc has an army behind him," scolded Tored. "Even if the key adversaries are DuLoc, Hemlock, and Falignus, there are scores of wizards, fighters, and the Seekers to deal with. This great number would quickly overwhelm a small group—no matter how powerful they are."

"So you say, but does anyone really know? We are talking about powers we know little about," said Samberlin.

Hemlock knew she was losing her temper, so she decided to say nothing rather than risk an outburst that would harm her position. Fortunately, Falignus came to her rescue.

"Nobody should mistake the fact that we are now at war," said Falignus. "Wars lead to hard choices. Anyone who chooses not to cooperate with Hemlock is becoming a third faction in this conflict. Gwineval says the wizards will defy her desire not to use Imperial magic—yet they will still fight on our side. Samberlin, you are skeptical of our plan. We understand that, but Hemlock says the plan is non-negotiable. So, knowing that, what choice are you making for the City Knights?"

"I am merely seeking consensus," said Samberlin.

"It's not possible. Once this war is over, the winning faction will control the fate of the City. Are you going to be a part of that faction or not?" said Falignus sharply.

"You're nothing but a self-serving scion of the death wizards!" Samberlin snarled. "How dare you threaten the residents of the City. You're no better than DuLoc!"

"This is how we're better than DuLoc. We're telling you the truth about the decision you're making. You can decide to accept the risk of fighting with us and have a voice in the future of the City or you can decline that risk and lose your say over the future of the City. DuLoc would claim to offer the same choice, but in the end, either choice would result in him assuming total power. He already proved himself a liar on the floor of the Senate. Make your choice," said Falignus.

"Does this man speak for you, Hemlock?" said Samberlin, turning toward her with a sudden calmness that made her suspect his rage had been a contrivance.

Hemlock hesitated for a second but quickly realized how she had to answer. "Yes."

"So be it, then. Half of the City Knights will march to battle with you," said Samberlin with a sigh of resignation.

"No, all of them," said Hemlock.

"Impossible," said Samberlin. "There would be looting if we left the City unguarded. And if DuLoc decided to send a flanking force, the City could be destroyed. No, there must be a garrison."

"Three quarters will march with us, then," said Hemlock.

"That wouldn't leave enough to guard the City's perimeter properly."

"It will be enough. You'll find a way. We need those men, Samberlin."

Samberlin took his seat with an air of one who had achieved his goal. "Fine," he said.

"There will be a small garrison of Wizards remaining behind as well," said Gwineval. "Renevos, I want you to lead this group."

Hemlock looked at Renevos as his back stiffened and his face got so red that Hemlock worried he might be having a heart attack. His cheeks puffed out as he breathed in, and when he finally spoke, there was spit mingled with his breath. "This is preposterous! I've studied the Imperial magic at your request, and I have a personal score to settle with DuLoc. You've seen what he did to Otticus. It's intolerable, and I will be avenged. I will not stay behind for this battle. I'm sorry, Gwineval, it's simply impossible to ask me to do that."

Gwineval recoiled in his seat but then leaned forward. "Who will do it then? Miara?"

"Never!" Miara stated flatly.

Gwineval turned to the other wizards in the room and each shook their head emphatically. Finally, his eyes rested on Merit.

"Merit, this duty falls to you, then," said Gwineval.

Merit stood and took a step forward. "Gwineval, I think you will need me to be present at the battle. Not only have I gained the ability to cast battle magic, but I believe I know more about Imperial lore than anyone else in the Tower. If DuLoc surprises us with something, you'll want me there for counsel."

"I'll stay behind," cried an unsteady voice from the far side of the chamber. Hemlock turned and saw it was Otticus who had volunteered.

"No, my boy. You must join me and be avenged," said Renevos.

"I'm sorry, I can't. My powers—they're gone." Otticus shook his head. "Perhaps I'll retrain—but I'm not ready. My logical place is here, commanding the defense of the Tower."

Tored scowled as if tasting something unpleasant. "I agree. If we are going to march right away, then Otticus will not have time to train before the battle. He cannot join us."

There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation.

"I have a question," said Gwineval. "What about the Seekers and the artifacts Falignus will attempt to use? According to Otticus, the Seekers exist in a state of perpetual torment and need the artifacts to free themselves. Their alliance with DuLoc may be undermined by simply giving them the artifacts. Why don't we do that?"

Renevos and Miara both nodded.

"A very sensible suggestion," Samberlin said.

"I agree," Falignus said loudly.

Hemlock's dreams had shown Falignus fighting DuLoc with the artifacts. And the strange child she'd encountered beneath Tanna Varra had said she'd need both bloodlines to confront her challenges. Could Falignus' role have just been to retrieve the artifacts? She knew he was meant for more than that.

"Falignus needs to use the artifacts against DuLoc. I'm sure of that. If he can't for some reason, then we will return them to the Seekers. But we have to let Falignus try," she said.

"And how will he use them? Is he still a wizard? Does their use require spells to be cast?" asked Gwineval, sounding skeptical.

All eyes turned to Falignus. He simply sighed. "I have no idea how to use them," he said.

"If I may add something," Merit interjected. "The texts suggest that Julius just wore the robe and wielded the sword. The crown was also used by wearing it. There is no record of spells being necessary."

With that, a long, deep silence engulfed the room. Hemlock finally broke it. "We will march out tomorrow morning at dawn. Get everything ready."

People began to stand and walk toward the exit at the rear of the chamber. Hemlock smiled at Merit as he ambled past her toward the side doorway that led to the inner stairs. His mouth upturned awkwardly in the expression she knew was his smile.

Tored had been one of the first to rise from his chair but was waiting for her at the far side of the chamber beside one of the wizard statues. Falignus stood at some distance from the former Tanna Varran, also waiting for her.

Hemlock nodded to Gwineval and prepared to leave the room, but Samberlin came up to her.

"So, Cassandra intends to join the battle? What can she do?" he asked softly.

"She thinks she can break whatever hold DuLoc may have over his fighters by tempting them with pleasure magic. She'll be a distraction if nothing else," said Hemlock.

"It could be very dangerous for her. Will she employ her ship?"

"I think that's her plan, yes."

"And what does she seek to gain by taking this significant risk?"

Hemlock fidgeted. "She wants to stay in the City after the battle."

Samberlin didn't seem surprised. "And what did you tell her?"

"I didn't commit to it, but I said I would put in a good word for her."

"She can stay. I will sell it to the Senate if you are victorious and she survives. But I have a condition. My son will not join her in this battle. He must remain in the City and out of danger."

Hemlock felt relieved. "I think that will work. I will let her know. Thanks, Samberlin."

"Don't thank me. Despite everything that fool son of mine has done, I can't bring myself to disown him."

"You're his father. Of course, you can't," said Hemlock, although she wasn't sure she believed what she was saying. She disliked Kantrell.

"Yes," sighed Samberlin. "That is my burden." With that, the old man walked away toward the exit. Hemlock thought his shoulders drooped more than she remembered as he receded.

But in the next moment, her mind returned to the many tasks at hand. She went over the troop figures that had been discussed. It seemed like the two armies would be well-matched. It would come down to the individual battles that were sure to take place. Ultimately, she knew she would have to confront DuLoc. But Falignus would help her. And the artifacts would help him. At least she hoped they would.
Chapter Ten

It was a crisp morning as the City army departed from the eastern gate and began its march to confront DuLoc's army. Tanna Varran scouts reported that the enemy had advanced aggressively and was only two days march from the City. Because of this rapid advance, there was a chance battle would be joined later that day.

A restrained but powerful avian call reverberated from Hemlock's side. She reached out a hand to stroke the Griffin's mane as it stood beside her.

IT IS A GOOD MORNING TO FLY.

Hemlock was used to interpreting the mental communication Penelope used. She could tell the creature was getting impatient. She turned behind her and spotted Renevos. The old wizard had volunteered to accompany her on the mission to destroy one of DuLoc's obelisks. She motioned for him to join her. He caught her eye and nodded. She noticed that Renevos' beard was conspicuously un-braided.

I guess he wants to look tough for the battle.

Renevos reached her side as the final rank of Knights passed her and a platoon of First Circle wizards approached. She scanned the faces as they passed, noticing a mixture of excitement and fear. DuLoc's prowess was common knowledge. But she took comfort in Tored's presence in the army. Nobody had even discussed who would command the army's movements. Everyone had assumed Tored would do it—and so had he. Even Brannor, leader of the First Circle and commander of the Wizard's forces, had ceded the positioning of his forces during the initial maneuvering stages of the battle to Tored.

Hemlock didn't waste any time and mounted the Griffin without a word. She felt Renevos sit behind her and grab her waist gently.

Alright, we're ready.

Penelope let out a triumphant call and then thrust into the air. Hemlock could see the City's forces in aggregate as the trio rose further and further into the sky. There were two platoons of First Circle wizards followed by another platoon of mixed spellcasters. Behind them came Gwineval, Miara, Falignus, and Tored along with a handful of other wizards. Hemlock knew this was Gwineval's handpicked squad of Imperial casters, of which Renevos would also be a part of upon his return. Merit's cart trailed behind them. Behind these came three companies of City Knights. At the rear of the column was a nearly full company of winged Tanna Varrans walking on foot.

It's a sizable army, but will it be enough?

They flew high and in a southerly direction in order to evade detection from DuLoc's forces in the east. Hemlock looked at the forested plains ahead of them in the distance. She had never spent time in the south and wondered what it was like. She'd heard about Castle Stargis and the battle Gwineval had fought there. And DuLoc had still recaptured the Castle in the coming weeks. She wondered whether people were suffering there as a result. She hoped not, but she felt sure they were. DuLoc was not a kind master—especially when he had been defied. The reports coming out of the mining towns in the east had made that clear.

She turned to her left and searched the horizon for an army in the distance. She couldn't see anything, and she was well-pleased at that. If she had seen an army, they might have seen her. And they couldn't be seen if they hoped to achieve the element of surprise they were counting on.

She felt a sudden pang for Tored. She was so used to having him on these missions. But he had been busy with the army, and the limited carriage of the Griffin had also been a factor. Speedy flight had been a priority—and Tored's wings couldn't sustain flight like the Griffin's could.

But she knew she could take care of herself. Her worry then shifted to Renevos. If he couldn't destroy the obelisk, then any fighting she might do would be in vain.

I wonder if I could destroy the obelisk myself?

She hoped she wouldn't have to find out.

Hemlock noticed they were starting to fly eastward. She trusted the sharp eyes of the Griffin to keep them on course. Penelope could see farther than any person could. And the Griffin had already spotted the obelisk on an earlier reconnaissance.

After a time, the eastern mountains loomed to their right, indicating they were heading north again. Penelope was descending slowly and appeared to be flying on a set path.

Can you see the obelisk?

YES. IT IS WELL EAST OF THEIR ARMY. IT IS CLEAR.

Hemlock leaned to the side of the feathered neck in front of her and strained to see ahead. She saw a series of hills and dells, though the trees were sparse. She made out the faint line of the road running west to east between the City and the Mountains. Something caught her eye in the west. She shifted positions and leaned to her left. She saw some irregular colors and the occasional glint of something metallic. She realized this must be DuLoc's army. That meant they could be spotted in the air by DuLoc. But they were already close to their target. As if mirroring Hemlock's concerns, the Griffin began to fly faster, beating her wings, and then she began to dive sharply, descending toward the ground, which seemed to be moving faster and faster as they approached it.

Hemlock looked for signs of DuLoc's army again, but the change in perspective seemed to have hidden it from view. She hoped the effect was reciprocal.

Looking ahead, Hemlock could see they were descending toward a large depression between two hills. A stream cut through the area, which was bottomed in bare rock and flanked by cavernous openings in the hills beside it. A slab of rock stood in the middle of the stream, glittering faintly and standing out from the highlights in the water around it. There was a magical emanation coming from it. As she studied it, she could see strong currents of Imperial magic flowing to the east and west. She felt repulsed by the area and then a visceral urge to destroy the obelisk came on with an intensity that surprised her.

As they landed close to the obelisk, Hemlock noticed the cave closest to the obelisk had an ominous appearance. Its shape reminded her of a snake's open mouth, and there were two mottled stalactites hanging from the roof that made the image of the snake in her imagination more vivid.

Renevos climbed from the back of the Griffin and Hemlock followed quickly.

Hemlock studied the obelisk. It was made of shining black obsidian and there were squared-off channels etched into it within which pulses of blue energy crackled from the ground up to the top. At the peak, the stone formed a crescent shape. Suspended above that and bathed in a sphere of blue runes was an amorphous blob of fiery, molten rock. The blob of Maker's Fire constantly shifted in the energy field, and it morphed tendrils of itself as if searching for an escape. But each tendril was met with a shock from the blue runes which caused it to recoil.

Hemlock shuddered. The obelisk was viscerally wrong—like a deformed animal. She wanted to obliterate it. But there was powerful magic at work. She could see the intensity, and it approached the power of a Wand, though it fell short. She knew she couldn't simply strike the obelisk and expect it to be destroyed. She needed Renevos.

To his credit, the old man had already positioned himself facing the obelisk.

"Don't use Imperial magic!" Hemlock cautioned.

Renevos made a dismissive gesture.

Hemlock decided to let him concentrate. She tried to look away from the obelisk since its appearance troubled her. Her focus returned to the strangely threatening cave mouth. Something was different. In a moment, she realized what it was. The mottled stalactites were gone.

A streaking motion in the corner of her eye confirmed her worst fear. They were ambushed!

"Renevos!" was all she could manage before jumping over a low strike from a figure on her right flank.

She kicked backward in the air, but her opponent ducked out of the way. Turning her head back toward Renevos, she saw a figure rising from a nearby ledge with a skeletal arm recoiled to strike. The old wizard was still casting his spell and hadn't heard her cry. She knew she had to act—but there was no time.

She did the only thing she could think of, which was to draw a sabre and throw it at Renevos' assailant. It was a light sword, though, and although she had thrown it well and it struck her target, it glanced off something concealed under the thing's shabby cloak—either armor or bone.

Still, her attack slowed the creature long enough for Renevos to notice it out of the corner of his eye. Hemlock hoped he would be okay for a few moments as she brought her remaining sabre against the other attacker closest to her. As her opponent's features came into focus, it was obvious what they were facing... Seekers.

Her assailant swung its long sword at her sloppily, but then redirected it with cunning finesse as she prepared a counter-strike. She was barely able to change her stance and avoid being caught by a cross-swing. This left the undead fighter off balance, but when Hemlock leaned into a thrust, the Seeker teleported and was suddenly five feet in the distance.

She heard Renevos cry out behind her and felt the sudden heat of battle magic. But she had to deal with her opponent before she could help him. The Seekers were too dangerous to turn her back on.

Suddenly, there was an avian cry and a heavy, clawed slash caught the Seeker in front of her unawares. He was thrown twenty feet into the air before striking a pillar of rock. There was an inchoate scream as the bones broke apart and crumbled into dust. Penelope landed heavily where the Seeker stood just a moment ago, and then she launched into the air again and flew over Hemlock as Hemlock turned to see what had befallen the old wizard.

Renevos was on his back on the rocky ground with a wall of fire between him and the lone Seeker. The skeleton warrior was advancing through the flames as Renevos scrambled backward on the rock. Seeing Hemlock and Penelope rushing to his aid caused his furrowed eyebrows to rise in relief.

The flames had slowed the Seeker, and the rags it wore over its armor had caught fire. Penelope swatted it like she had the other one, with a similar, destructive result.

Hemlock helped Renevos to his feet as she eyed their surroundings warily. Seeing nothing, she took some more time and scanned for magic. This also didn't reveal anything.

"Go ahead," she said to Renevos.

A startled cry from the Griffin caused Hemlock to snap her head around. About twenty feet away, a curious, cloudy formation emerged from thin air about five feet above the ground. It slowly coalesced into a man-sized figure.

"Cast your spell. I'll handle this," shouted Hemlock.

Renevos grunted his agreement. Penelope began to advance toward the figure, but Hemlock motioned her back.

Hemlock wasn't surprised when the now familiar figure of DuLoc formed in front of her. But he had a shimmering quality that indicated his image was a projection, and he wasn't physically present.

"So," began DuLoc, his voice sounding hollow, "this is an interesting distraction. But even if you can destroy the obelisk, it won't help you."

"Then why do you care?" said Hemlock.

DuLoc chuckled. "I do admire your spirit, if nothing else, Hemlock."

Hemlock thought about taunting DuLoc by challenging him to teleport there in the flesh and engage her in single combat. But then she remembered her dream and the image of the wolf, which she thought symbolized Falignus, breaking DuLoc's Imperial magic. Her conclusion hurt her sense of pride, but it was undeniable.

I need Falignus for this fight.

DuLoc gave her a quizzical expression before continuing to speak. "Jalis tells me our army will strongly outnumber yours. Are you sure you want to subject your people to needless slaughter?"

She heard a shrill whine behind her. Glancing toward it, she saw white rays shining from Renevos' hands toward the obelisk.

"You need to find better advisors, DuLoc," she shouted, turning back to his insubstantial image.

A violent explosion rocked the area as she said DuLoc's name. She stumbled forward as Renevos fell backward into her. She was able to steady him and herself as she watched the remains of the obelisk litter the ground around her. There was a smoldering hole where it had stood.

"I will see you soon, Hemlock. Relish the final moments of your delusion. I'm almost sorry for you. I can only imagine how it will feel to believe you are one thing and then be taught that you are something...less. But, I must confess that I will find it amusing to serve as the agent of your enlightenment," said DuLoc.

"Every fighter worth anything goes into a fight thinking they're the best. Do you think you're going to scare me? If you knew you were stronger, I bet you wouldn't bother trying to intimidate me."

"A fair riposte. Alright, then. No more talk," said DuLoc. And then he was gone.

Hemlock looked around as calm returned to her surroundings. Looking down, she was dismayed to see that the current of magic flowing east to west, though diminished, was still there.

"There's still magic flowing," she said.

"What should we do?" asked Renevos. "Should we fly farther east and look for more obelisks?"

Hemlock considered the idea. She despaired at the thought of not cutting off DuLoc's flow of Imperial magic, but she was also unsure how many obelisks they would need to destroy to stop it. The benefit of further weakening that magic was counter-balanced by her fear that they would miss the battle.

She shook her head. "No, we've done what we can. We've revealed our position and DuLoc may have a counter-move in mind. If Penelope gets wounded, we'll miss the battle. We can't risk that. We need to get out of here."

...

Riding high in the air on the back of the Griffin, Hemlock spotted Cassandra's ship first among the large mass of the City army. They had been careful to circle around so that they would approach their own forces from the safety of the west rather than risking a flight over DuLoc's forces, surely exposing them to magical attack. Continuing to look down, she located Merit's cart close to Cassandra's ship and knew Gwineval and the other council members would be in that area. As the afternoon air buffeted her face, she pointed down for the benefit of Renevos, who was seated behind her. Then she directed her thoughts to Penelope.

Head to the cart, please.

I SEE IT.

Penelope broke into a gentle dive that soon escalated into a steep descent. Hemlock thrilled at the speed, but she felt Renevos's hands trembling at her waist.

"Hold on!" she shouted, trying to encourage him.

"Alright!" he shouted, and he clasped his hands over her belly, grabbing her tightly.

Looking over the army as they hurtled downward, Hemlock saw that Tored had arrayed them into a line formation rather than a column. He knew DuLoc's army was nearby. She looked east and thought she saw some movement on the horizon, but they were already too close to the ground to have a good vantage point. She had already seen how close DuLoc's force was as they had approached. He was only a mile away and closing in quickly.

They landed suddenly and hard, and many of the soldiers and wizards in the vicinity gasped, scurrying backward instinctively.

Thank you, Penelope.

IT WAS MY HONOR. NOW, I WILL FIGHT ALONGSIDE YOU.

No, you must not. You must help us transport the wounded back to the City. We will fit you with a litter.

YOU WILL NEED ME TO FIGHT DULOC.

By agreeing to do this, you may save my life or Gwineval's or Tored's. Many will be wounded in the upcoming battle. The greatest and most severely wounded must have a way to return to the City for treatment. If the leaders of the City perish, then the City itself will fall soon after. We can't have that. Will you help me by doing this?

The Griffin stared at her intently.

I WANT TO EARN YOUR TRUST. I WAS DISHONORED AT OGRUN AND YEARN FOR REDEMPTION IN BATTLE. BUT I WILL DO THIS IF YOU WISH IT.

Thank you!

Tored grabbed Hemlock gently by the arm, and she returned her attention to the rolling green fields around her, the scattered rock formations, and the force that marched past her.

She walked behind him as he surveyed the terrain. Looking from side to side, she saw the army arrayed in the following order. A company and two platoons of knights marched on the left wing. Hemlock knew there were about two hundred of them. To their right, and next to the center of the line, was a platoon of approximately thirty first circle wizards. Two formations were marching near Hemlock at the center of the line. One was a large group of assorted wizards numbering around sixty. Miara was the leader of this group. The other group was a small squad of Imperial spellcasters under the command of Gwineval. Renevos fell into line with this group. The right side of the line was a mirror of the left. There was a formation of First Circle wizards and then another two hundred knights on the right wing.

Hemlock looked behind her and saw the reserve units. A company of Tanna Varran spearmen and the great sailing ship of the witch Cassandra were ready to join in when needed.

Brannor fell in between Gwineval and Tored as Hemlock suddenly heard the chatter of disembodied voices filling the air. Tored looked at her and offered an explanation.

"We've included you in the battle command link. When you speak loudly, commanders from each unit will hear you," he said.

Hemlock nodded. She tried to ignore the gravity of the question that was implied.

Will I need to take command of the army? And if I do, will they listen?

A hush fell over the field as the march continued, and the anticipation of sighting the enemy became palpable.

"Stay steady, everyone!" Tored shouted in a clear voice that carried amongst the ranks. The deep baritone of his voice combined with the commanding way he delivered the words had an effect on her. She relaxed the vice-like grip she unknowingly had on her sabres and was conscious of the sweaty redness of her hands in the aftermath. Once again, she felt grateful that Tored was leading the army.

The Knights were the most visually impressive part of the army. Their plate armor and ornate helmets had been shined to a brilliant sheen that reflected the waning sunlight. The first circle wizard formations were less glamorous but looked equally imposing with their tightly ordered ranks and the exotic tattoos adorning their appendages. The wizards closest to Hemlock were more of a motley looking bunch. Most were cloaked in various colors. Many wore hoods while others wore conical, wide-brimmed hats. Hemlock knew a few wizards often wore tricorne hats, but none wore them today—no doubt because of the association of that style of hat with DuLoc.

There was a copse of trees ahead in the distance, and Hemlock thought she saw some motion around them.

"Tored, I see some movement ahead," she said excitedly.

She was surprised when a disembodied voice said, "I can't see it." But then she remembered the link spell.

She saw Tored pause for a moment and place his hand over his brow. "I also see it," he said.

"Still nothing," said a different voice in Hemlock's mind. Then, the same voice spoke up again. "Wait, there. I see it."

A chorus of voices then agreed.

"Enemy spotted!" shouted Tored. "March to close."

They continued to march in silence for a few more minutes until the forms in the distance became distinct.

"What can you see?" said Tored in a voice that didn't go over the link.

"I see a number of wizards in the center walking in small groups. I see their First Circle units on either side of them—it looks they have a little more than half the number of wizards that we do—just like we expected. But there's a big unit of miners to the left of their line and an even bigger unit of fighters on the right side. They must be the southern warriors. There are more southerners than we have in our entire army. I think I see DuLoc in the center."

"That's what I see, too. The Knights will handle the woodsmen. No sign of the Seekers?"

"Not yet. I have trouble detecting their magic for some reason," said Hemlock. Then she made another observation. "And I don't detect a runic link to the Mountains. My mission succeeded."

"That gives me pause," said Tored. "That tells me DuLoc doesn't think he needs the runic link. Otherwise, why would he press the attack so quickly with a clear disadvantage?"

"You're too skeptical. He appeared to me as I destroyed the Obelisk. Let's just say he's anxious to fight me."

A linked voice interjected, "Our scouts are reporting movement on the left flank behind the rise."

"What's the force?" asked Tored over the link.

"It's unclear. We saw startled birds and movement amongst the trees, but nothing was clearly visible. It seemed like magic was involved. We need a wizard to recon the area," said the voice.

Hemlock recognized the voice as the new Knight Commander named Everil.

The opposing forces were about a half mile apart.

"Brannor, send the left First Circle unit toward the left flank to intercept whatever's incoming. Everil, shift the leftmost Knights toward the center after Brannor completes his move," said Tored over the link.

"Disregard that order," said Brannor with an audible snarl.

Tored looked across the field at Brannor with undisguised contempt.

"Why, Brannor?" said Hemlock.

"The First Circle must stay with the Wizards. That is their role. The Knights will have to deal with whatever threat is out there," growled Brannor.

Tored shook his head. "We don't have time for this dissention," he growled over the link. "Flyers, advance toward the left flank and find out what's there. Do not engage."

In a few moments, the Tanna Varran flyers were overhead, moving toward the left. Hemlock knew they flew along the friendly line so they wouldn't be as easy to target with battle magic.

Hemlock's eyes met Gwineval's as the wizard glanced back toward Tored and then quickly averted his eyes.

"Gwineval, the Tanna Varrans will need magic support," said Hemlock. "You can't send them out alone."

"Brannor commands the First Circle. And it's probably the Seekers out there. The Tanna Varran shamans are good at identifying undead," said Gwineval over the link.

"If it is the Seekers, we'll have to send the First Circle. My people won't fare well against spellcasting undead," said Tored.

"Let's wait and find out," said Gwineval.

The opposing lines had now closed to an approximate distance of a quarter mile. Hemlock saw shimmering, blue magical domes appear over the enemy line.

"Halt!" said Gwineval over the link. "Raise the wards!"

As their own shielding sprung to life overhead, explosive bursts of incoming battle magic broke the peaceful quiet of the late afternoon.

"Miara, begin a bombardment of their central shield. We have more spellcasters than they do," said Gwineval.

Hemlock waited anxiously as the wizard battle raged. The plan was for the soldiers to wait until the superior spellcasting of the City forces brought down DuLoc's shields and then charge their line. But she didn't like her current passive role one bit.

She saw something happening across the field. Enemy wizards had gathered at the very edge of their shielding and were holding ornate staves out in front of them. In their center, Hemlock saw a figure in antiquated garb and recognized DuLoc.

Just as she was about to point him out to Tored, she felt a familiar presence beside her.

"There he is," said Falignus with the precise enunciation that was typical for him.

"Tored says to wait while the wizard battle plays out, but what if we lose it? Maybe we should just charge him," Hemlock said softly so she wouldn't be heard over the link.

"Impossible," said Falignus. "If we get caught in a crossfire of battle spells, we'll be vaporized."

"Look!" Hemlock shouted without intending to raise her voice.

The wizards in front of the enemy lines raised their staves in unison. DuLoc's seemed to reach highest. And instead of a staff, Hemlock realized he was holding a Wand. The fiery core of the Wand flared, and then the wizards slammed their staves down in unison, ignoring the bursts of battle magic that peppered the shield above them.

A strange humming sound reverberated over the field, and the ground beneath the enemy staves began to glow.

"They are weaving an Imperial rune!" shouted Gwineval over the link. "It will be powerful. We'll do our best to resist it with our own runes."

"Gwineval!" shouted a voice outside of the link. Hemlock recognized the speaker as Renevos, who she observed standing beside Gwineval in the line of friendly Imperial casters.

There was a pause and then Gwineval's trembling voice was speaking over the link again. "They're casting Defiler's Wrath! We'll reinforce the shields, but they may not hold. Miara, hit those Imperial casters with everything you've got!"

A cacophony of explosions rang out over the field as scores of fireballs slammed into the vicinity of DuLoc. A handful of enemy spellcasters went down, but DuLoc remained defiant. And the spellforce that was gathering around him was palpable. Hemlock could see runes leaping through the air in a spiral pattern—growing and rapidly gaining strength.

Dark clouds rolled across the sky with supernatural speed, casting the area in sudden gloom. Rolling thunder boiled in those clouds—directly over the City line.

"Everything to the shields!" Gwineval shouted desperately as a pattern of Imperial runes sprang from his hands, ripped along the ground, and enclosed the City forces. Hemlock noticed their shields became a deeper shade of blue.

Next, there was a tremendous ozone smell, and the air itself seemed to crackle with anticipation. The clouds above them opened up and a great white column of fire smashed down over the shields protecting Hemlock and her allies. The blast was accompanied by a deafening thunderclap that brought Hemlock to her knees. The brightness of the light momentarily blinded her, and she expected to be burned alive at any moment.

But soon, her hearing returned with a strange, echoing sensation, and then her sight returned as well. Initially, it returned at the periphery of her vision; then, gradually, the blinding white of the flash faded away.

The shields had held.

Hemlock heard a voice muttering over the link, just loudly enough to be understood. She realized it was Gwineval speaking as if dazed. "...cast as a group. Perhaps that controlled some of the dynamic resonance. I must study that. I have to get back to my lab..."

Then Tored's voice came over the link. "All units report!" She looked and saw him some thirty feet away. He was prone on all fours and struggling to stand. She rolled over gingerly and stood up.

Falignus was at her side again. She looked around, and although many people were showing some signs of shock, there didn't appear to be any injuries.

Several explosions of fire rocked the front of their shields and they began to flicker dangerously.

Hemlock looked at the opposing line and saw DuLoc leading another casting.

"Gwineval!" she shouted, interrupting another commander who was reporting from the northern flank.

"What?" Gwineval asked uncertainly.

"DuLoc!"

"He's casting a runic attack. We will counter it," said Gwineval, his voice sounding more resolute as he became aware of their renewed state of peril. Across the field, Hemlock could see DuLoc making dramatic gestures with his staff. Behind him, his allied wizards mimicked his motions in unison.

"Something big is getting close to our line," said a voice on the link that Hemlock didn't recognize. The accent sounded Tanna Varran.

"Confirmed," said a knight in reply.

Suddenly, there was a chorus of gasps over the link. Hemlock looked hurriedly to her right, saw nothing, and then looked to her left. Her eyes fixed on a towering figure looming over the northern flank. It was a huge, metallic titan carved in the likeness of a leering youth. It lumbered toward the north formation of knights from behind, moving in a stiff, machine-like way. Its eyes were hollowed out and figures could be seen standing in the eye holes. Bolts of lightning traced from these figures produced thunderclaps that echoed across the battlefield. The shield wavered and broke under the concentrated battle magic, and the bolts landed with searing force amidst the City knights, felling clusters of soldiers in an instant.

"Harvester on the northern flank!" shouted the knight over the link.

"Pal Gatha, attack it from the air," directed Tored. Hemlock saw the Tanna Varrans take to the air and begin to circle the lumbering giant, throwing spears at the eye holes and dodging blasts of fire from the hostile wizards in the machine. The knights turned to face their foe.

"The runes!" shouted Gwineval over the link.

Hemlock turned away from the skirmish in the north to see a surge of morphing rune traces advancing quickly from the main enemy line. In front of their shield, Hemlock could see a lattice of runes that Gwineval had woven in defense. The two runic streams clashed, producing an odd musical resonance that reminded Hemlock of the sound made by blowing into a bottle at the proper angle to produce a musical note. Then runes began to shatter with an ethereal sound like tiny shards of glass breaking. It was immediately clear that Gwineval's defensive runes were failing fast.

"They're too powerful, Gwineval! Tored, we have to charge their position. If we let them continue to cast on us, we'll be slaughtered," shouted Hemlock.

"But the runes are blocking us," said Brannor over the link.

Hemlock turned to look at Falignus. "Let me worry about them. When they are destroyed, charge your wizards."

There was no immediate response.

"Brannor, listen to me! You are going to charge the First Circle when we clear those runes," she hissed.

His reply came swiftly. "Alright!"

Falignus looked at her evenly. "Is it time?" he shouted over the din of battle magic.

She nodded and took a step toward the front of the line. She turned to him and reached out her hand. He took it, and together, they advanced toward the front of the battle where their shield glimmered faintly. DuLoc's runes were continuing to smash Gwineval's. It would only be moments before Gwineval's defensive net would fail and DuLoc's runes would reach their shield. She could see the nature of the runes DuLoc had created and they were meant to nullify wild magic. Their shields would fall, and then they'd be vulnerable to the enemy's wild battle magic and Imperial spells like Defiler's Wrath. They'd surely be routed if that happened.

"The City needs you now, Falignus. Use the artifacts," she said.

Falignus hurriedly donned the cloak and held the golden sword. Both items dazzled with their radiance.

"Put on the crown," Hemlock urged.

He shook his head. "No."

"You may need its power. These runes are much more powerful than what you dispelled in the Senate that day."

"I know. But I fear the crown. It has a voice and speaks to me sometimes. I must attempt this without it!"

Hemlock nodded slowly and remembered the warning that the armored apparition of Julius had given her. "Alright," she shouted.

He nodded and then raised the sword. It caught the fading sunlight, and its brilliance increased. He stepped through the shield and held the sword out in front of him. As he walked, Gwineval's defensive runes shattered to pieces as the sword passed over them. In response, DuLoc's runes surged forward and reached the outstretched blade. The sound of breaking glass became a shattering tumult as the sword broke through the runes and pulled the entire line of them forward as Falignus advanced. He screamed as shimmering rune shards flew into the air around him, burning him where they touched his skin before dissipating. But his steady march forward didn't waver.

Hemlock quickly fell in behind him. Motion on the enemy line caught her eye. She saw Jalis gesturing to DuLoc and then pointing out Falignus.

"Gwineval, they are going to start casting on us. Can you protect us?" she asked loudly.

"I will try," said Gwineval haltingly. "Falignus is destroying Imperial magic with the sword. I'm not sure my defensive runes will help much."

Suddenly, there was a flash of bright orange in the enemy line. Hemlock saw that it came from a group of casters led by Jalis. She perceived the nature of the threat in an instant with her magic sense.

"It's a trick—they're attacking with wild magic!" she shouted desperately.

Gwineval replied over the link, "Miara, cease your attacks and shield Falignus and Hemlock!"

"Alright," grunted Miara, sounding fatigued.

In a few moments, a glimmering shield surrounded them. But DuLoc's runes were still ahead of them and close—and the shield looked weaker due to the proximity of them.

Suddenly, a wave of fire impacted the front of the shield. It flickered dangerously but held.

"DuLoc's runes are weakening both the shield and Jalis' wild magic attack," said Gwineval.

"It's alright. We spoiled their surprise attack. They will probably switch to Imperial magic again," said Hemlock.

And she was right. Jalis brought his wizards in line with DuLoc, and they began another concerted runic attack. The runes immediately flashed with additional power, and Falignus halted, falling to one knee with the exertion of holding his sword out to meet the renewed threat.

"Gwineval, we need help," she said. But as she said it, she noticed a faint line of defensive runes in front of them. It was helping—but not much.

"I can't do much more," said Gwineval, hissing angrily. "Miara, attack DuLoc and Jalis!"

A funnel of speeding air descended angrily down from an overhead cloud to the top of the enemy shield, kicking up dirt and debris in the vicinity. But the enemy shield barely wavered.

Falignus shouted angrily, and Hemlock saw that his arms were quaking violently under the strain. She ran up behind him and entreated him, "Put on the crown. It's our only hope."

She saw his shoulders sag as he understood her. "It's in the bag at my waist. I can't move. You'll have to put it on me," he said over the din of the shattering rune magic.

Hemlock paused. She knew touching the crown might have an effect on her. She heard voices shouting over the link, but they faded into the background of her consciousness. The crown clouded out everything else. She opened Falignus' bag and saw the gleaming metal within.

She was dimly aware of explosions to the north and the blur of many troops advancing toward her. Then there were other figures rushing up from behind, and a melee broke out all around where she knelt. The runes, still sharply visible despite her distraction, continued to advance in a merciless deluge, burning the City defenders but having no effect on the rebels. She had a feeling that the City forces were on the brink of defeat.

_I have to put the crown on him. It will be my act—my sin_ — _to do it._

She took a deep breath and then thrust her hands into the bag, grabbed the crown, and yanked it out roughly. Her hands had nearly reached Falignus' shoulders before they suddenly tingled and then her reality was ripped away with a great tearing sound.

She saw nothing—there was only black before her eyes. Then she became aware that there was motion in the blackness. It looked like a great pattern moving in front of her. As it came into focus, she saw the pattern was made of oblong shapes that were interlocked. Scales. Then light and shadows formed, rendering a great haunch receding away from her at speed. A cyclopean black dragon flew away, revealing a vast void and a familiar field of worlds connected by tendrils of light.

She knew this was the culmination of her many visions. Something massive and malevolent was on the loose in the space between worlds—eating entire worlds and leaving utter desolation in its wake.

As the dragon receded, she saw the hub of worlds in the distance and noted that the dragon was heading straight for it. It was heading for the City!

The tearing sound reversed, and she was back on the battlefield, standing behind Falignus, arms trembling, holding a golden crown that was so cold she feared it was burning her.

Tears streamed down her face as she strained to place the crown on Falignus' bent head. As she did, he jumped bolt upright as if in a spasm, letting out a great cry.

Hemlock slumped backward as she saw Falignus look around him as if waking from a slumber. Then his body tensed as the burning shards of the runes that still assailed him seemed to register.

"Who dares to resist me?" cried Falignus, and his voice carried more powerfully than any normal man's would.

He began to swing his sword violently in front of him, and the runes exploded wherever he struck, digging deeply into the runic lattice. Soon, the wave of runes was in danger of being completely obliterated.

Hemlock recognized a large force of southern fighters in front of Falignus. At their center, there was a rebel unit of First Circle wizards. She became conscious of shouting over the link.

"Hemlock? Hemlock, are you alright?"

It was Tored's voice interspersed with screams and sounds of battle from the other commanders.

"Yes, I'm alright," she said over the link.

She regained her footing as Falignus continued to push forward in front of her. The wave of Imperial runes had been completely destroyed by this point. A few southern fighters found themselves confronting Falignus but shied away from engaging him. But the First Circle wizards were not so easily cowed. They charged him in unison with their tattoos blazing and their cold steel glinting eagerly.

Hemlock rushed forward. She wasn't sure how well Falignus could fight, and there were several score First Circle wizards in front of him. She knew it would be a bitter fight under the best of circumstances.

"Tored, we need help in the center!" she shouted.

"Brannor, Cassandra, advance in the center and help Hemlock," commanded Tored.

"Aye," said Brannor, obviously at full sprint.

Her fears about Falignus' capacity to defend himself were quickly dispelled. Despite the unearthly speed with which the First Circle wizards attacked, his sword never failed to parry their blows or to deliver a bone splitting counter with a speed that rivaled anything Hemlock had ever managed. Bodies began to pile up in front of him as he advanced, and he stepped over them carelessly.

Three tattooed wizards appeared in front of Hemlock, each wielding a broad blade. The first one slashed at her conservatively, while the other two spread out, trying to get on her flanks. She feinted forward and then turned on one of the flankers in a leaping pirouette that he didn't anticipate. She sank her sabres into the man's chest and withdrew them sharply as she placed a foot on her victim's chest and then kicked forward, sending his gurgling mess of a torso falling to the ground as he struggled to take his final breaths.

The other flanker was on her with impressive speed as she turned around. He slashed high and she parried with sabres crossed. Maintaining the initiative as his remaining partner closed, he thrust clumsily, but Hemlock couldn't riposte without leaving an opening for the other. Instead, she took a step back, driving his thrusting blade downward, then took a quick set of steps to her left, leaving the other fighter out of range.

The closer wizard realized his peril and held his blade in front of him in a defensive posture. Hemlock thrust toward his neck, and her opponent eagerly ducked and counterthrust, expecting to catch Hemlock's torso exposed. But she easily anticipated his attack, and turned to the side, allowing her opponents blade to slice nothing but air. Then she rotated backward, bringing her other sabre around and easily skewering the man. She kicked his body free from her blade as the third fighter drew up his rapid advance as he perceived the fate of his comrade.

Friendly First Circle fighters were advancing from her right led by Brannor. Brannor, in a full, magically-enhanced sprint, arrived on her opponent's flank with a sudden burst, slashing the rebel's throat easily as he strode past. He smirked at Hemlock as he passed, followed by another twenty First Circle wizards in his wake.

"By the Maker!" she heard Brannor say over the link a few moments later, and she turned back toward the main line of battle to her left.

Brannor and his men had arrived in the vicinity of Falignus and seen the ever-increasing carnage around him. But Falignus was now slaying indiscriminately, and Brannor himself was now under attack by him. City wizards were being slain in droves as they tried to protect their leader.

Hemlock cursed and ran forward. She was dimly aware of a great bulk moving across the battlefield to her right as she approached Falignus—Cassandra's ship. But she gave it little thought as she reached Falignus and had to defend herself from a slash from his golden sword. She blocked it, but it knocked her backward several feet as she did so, and the blow was so powerful that she feared her sabres might snap under the impact. But even more powerful than the physical force of his attack was the impact of his gaze as he struck. Their eyes met, and he had recognized her, but she had seen no pity in those eyes—no friendship and certainly no love. There was only lust in his eyes—a lust for killing.

Maker's Fire! He's been consumed by the power of the crown!

"Brannor, get back!" she shouted.

But it was too late. The wizard had refused to give ground to the supernatural might of the bearer of the golden sword and his terrible splendor. Falignus actually laughed as he deflected Brannor's feeble counter-attack and then delivered a vicious downward chop that gashed the wizard's torso open and spilled his guts onto the battlefield as he crumpled into a whimpering, bloody mess.

"Falignus, no!" shouted Hemlock.

He next engaged a few rebel wizards, which gave Hemlock time to approach and circle him. She hoped he would leave her an opening to dart in and dislodge the crown, for she realized that was her only hope to stop him without killing him.

But she was not as fortunate as that. He killed the rebels with an alarming ease, and then his full attention was on her again. And he began to assault her. She fought defensively, for she still loved him and would not slay him. But his assault was furious and sustained. Anyone foolish enough to intervene was cut down as casually as a farmer might reap a stalk of wheat.

"Stay away, everyone!" Hemlock cried. There was still a battle going on around her, but she had totally lost track of everything except her fight with Falignus. She noticed the smoldering wreckage of Cassandra's ship out of the corner of her eye, but a moment's concern was soon supplanted by the demands of the melee.

I can't keep this up forever. He might kill me.

But still, she fought on, trying to drag him forward and away from friendly forces that might be inadvertently killed.

Pleading voices came over the link—telling her to stop—mentioning DuLoc. But none of it mattered. She fought so that both she and Falignus could live—fought against an evil that had taken his will from him just as the revenant of Julius had warned. She grew desperate and the power from the other worlds began to flow and sustain her, but soon even that power began to wane.

Just as she feared she was reaching a point of prohibitive fatigue, a warrior charged in from Falignus' flank and cast a spear at him. Hemlock recognized Tored's bulk immediately and saw that the throw was expertly delivered. The spear found its mark in Falignus' back, and no mortal could have withstood the attack—such was the strength of Tored. But the spear impacted the golden cloak—a cloak woven by immortal hands—and shattered into fragments without reaching the flesh beneath.

Both Hemlock and Tored stared in disbelief. But Falignus was not phased. He took two leaps toward Tored with a feral intensity and stabbed the prone warrior twice in the chest.

"NO!" cried Hemlock, but it was too late. Tored fell backward, hands over his wounds, but the blood streamed out between his fingers.

And then Falignus turned back on her and renewed his attack. Her body responded mechanically, which was fortunate for her since her spirit was reeling from the shock of the blows that had felled Tored.

Suddenly, a burst of runic magic surrounded Falignus. He roared with rage and shattered it, but another appeared in an instant to replace it.

Hemlock looked to her side and saw DuLoc standing there, casting furiously, his hands were blazing brightly as restraining magic roared out of them. She then noticed that the other sounds of battle had faded. Two distant lines of spectators had formed around the three combatants as they battled. It seemed like the greater battle would be decided by the actions of these three foes.

"It was foolish to give him these objects!" shouted DuLoc in his lilting voice, the continuous effort of his casting causing him to speak in rapid bursts.

"Maybe, but you didn't leave us any choice," she responded, unsure how best to proceed.

"You need to remove the crown from him while he's distracted. Hurry," shouted DuLoc.

She paused for a moment. Voices were calling her over the link. Some urged her to kill Falignus, while others called for her to attack DuLoc.

I know I have to disarm Falignus, but if I do, I won't be strong enough to face DuLoc!

"Hurry, what are you waiting for?" cried DuLoc.

Hopefully he's weakened, too.

Then she had an idea. "Destroy your Wand—then I'll help you!" she shouted.

"Don't be a fool," cried DuLoc. "My hands are directing the magic that's keeping him in check. You have mere moments to act before he'll be unleashed on everyone here. Don't doubt he'll kill everyone you love before I regroup and deal with him on my own!"

Hemlock's heart sank.

He's probably right. He'll just escape and then Falignus will turn on the City. And he admits there are limits to his power. Perhaps I will have a chance against him.

"Okay, hold on," she shouted.

Falignus was enraged by his continued confinement, but he struck out around him with alarming speed and randomness. Hemlock knew it would push the boundaries of even her great agility to avoid being struck by him. She approached and studied his movements, trying to find a rhythm. She coiled up with a feline grace and waited for the right moment.

"Do it!" screamed DuLoc.

An opportunity presented itself. Falignus had just screamed and struck out all around him in a great circular slash. As his blade lowered for an instant, she leapt with preternatural speed and extended her sabre to try and flick the crown from his head.

But he saw the strike coming and ducked swiftly, punching upward with his free hand as her momentum carried her into him.

Pain erupted through her body as Falignus' fist struck her in the abdomen at the same instant she took the full brunt of the effects of DuLoc's Imperial spell which she had leapt into the path of. She was blasted back ten feet in the air and tumbled hard onto the turf, rolling to a stop and whimpering, simultaneously feeling like she had been flayed and pummeled by a dragon.

She began to hallucinate. Disembodied heads circled above her, crying out her name. There was Miara, Gwineval, and even DuLoc.

In this disassociated state, an idea suddenly formed in her head.

I'm not fast enough to do it. But maybe there's another way!

The hallucinations passed, and she was able to roll over and become prone.

She looked at DuLoc, and was dimly aware that he was shouting and looking at her. He looked extremely strained, which was striking, because he always maintained such a refined appearance. Falignus was still struggling against DuLoc's spells, but she could tell the spells were wavering. And even the fire in his hands appeared to be dimmer.

Then she turned her attention to the link. "Miara, can you make a rainbow appear?"

She focused her mind on listening for Miara's voice, hoping she still lived, and ignoring other shouting voices.

"Yes, Hemlock! But why?" came the reply she had hoped for.

"Just do it. Make it fall right on Falignus."

As Hemlock stood, a haze appeared above Falignus' head. Next the haze coalesced into the familiar colored bands of a dim rainbow. It was all she needed.

She focused her mind back on the trip she had taken to Tanna Varra with Tored. She envisioned the strange beast she had encountered in a mountain pass there—and how it had teleported along the length of a rainbow. She remembered its eyes and its multi-chromatic mane. She remembered the pattern of magic in the air as it had blinked away, wounded.

Yes, I can still picture it. But can I reproduce it?

She thought about everything that was at stake—Falignus' life, Tored dying in a pool of his own blood, Gwineval, Miara, even Mercuria and her mother in Ogrun. If Falignus was allowed to roam free, he would destroy everything. He would be worse than DuLoc.

This sense of purpose girded her will and she was able to summon a final surge of otherworldly power. She began to feel a strange sensation. The dim rainbow before her intensified as everything else in her vision faded. She did not resist the sensation as each color split and rushed toward her forming a spiral pattern. She realized she had no sense of her body any longer—or of any spatial awareness. Then there was a flash of blinding light.

Next, she was unravelling, and each color spiraled out from her returning to the bands of the rainbow. She recovered a sense of space and time. She was in the air. Falignus was below her. She was falling on him and could see the crown glowing on his head, the swinging sword, and the runes at his feet.

She would land on him in an instant. She knew she had to strike now. She slapped the side of his head with her hand and as she did, she saw a large paw with multi-colored fur rake its claws across Falignus' head, sending the crown flying away and leaving bloody lacerations. Her body landed hard on him, and he seemed to fall much harder than she was expecting. In fact, her body felt much heavier than his.

She got to her feet and saw Falignus' head a few feet below her. He was bleeding and unconscious, but was still breathing.

When she looked up at DuLoc standing before her, she realized that she had changed. She tried to speak to him but only made a roaring sound. And then she wanted nothing more than to rend him limb from limb—to feel the grace and power of her new form employed in its most visceral fashion.

She tensed her muscles and prepared to leap.
Chapter Eleven

She roared triumphantly and leapt at DuLoc, conscious of how feeble his body was compared to her new-found physical power.

But DuLoc's reaction sent a jolt of fear through her. He was smiling. She saw him mouth a single word and a veil of inky darkness consumed her vision.

She hit DuLoc face first and tried to bite, but her teeth just ground together painfully. She was on all fours in front of him and felt blades of grass between her fingers. Just as she realized what had happened, she saw a flash of white and then was on her back as the sky snapped back into view above her. Her eyes were watery, and a fiery pain was burning from her now human nose. She tried to wiggle it and cried out in pain. It felt broken.

Then she heard the oddest sound. Clapping.

Then a great ruckus broke out. She heard the clash of steel and cries of pain, along with the explosive sound of battle magic.

She heard Gwineval shrieking over the link, saying something about Penelope the Griffin and Falignus.

Her head reeled, and she couldn't focus her eyes. She tried to get up, but her body didn't respond.

Then she swore she saw a skeletal figure moving swiftly over her, stepping to avoid her. It was carrying the golden sword of the Imperator.

Then everything faded to black again before coming back into focus.

"We have to retreat! Now," shouted a voice over the link. She thought it was Gwineval's.

"But what about Hemlock?" said Miara.

"She's fallen. DuLoc has won. We'll have to fall back and see if we can defend the City," said Gwineval again.

Hemlock tried to respond to them—to encourage what they were doing. But when she tried to speak, her jaw burned with a terrible pain and she only managed to moan.

Then she saw DuLoc's golden tresses above her and his sardonic eyes. He was shaking his head as if chagrined.

"You caused me quite a scare, Hemlock. I was genuinely concerned that your friend Falignus could have resisted me with those Imperial artifacts. But now the Seekers have recovered them, and he's run off with your friends from the City.

I have to compliment your use of magic to change into that Rainbow Cat. It might have been a problem for me had I not been well aware of the nature of that beast –I have been around a lot longer than you have, after all.

And then I find out, in the moment of my victory, that you have already unleashed the Imperator's Chaos Dragon. To think that I restrained my use of power for centuries for fear of doing that, only to realize it was all pointless in the end because you also have real magical powers."

Hemlock grunted again and then managed to speak haltingly. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about real magic, Hemlock. That's what you used when you changed into the Rainbow Cat. You knew the pattern of magic necessary, but you are not a spellcaster. You created that magical effect through sheer application of your will. Power like that—that makes normal wizards seem mundane by comparison. They can only create effects based on the physical laws of the world. You and I—we can create our own manifestations of our will and bend these laws.

"But the Imperator was wary of outside interference by people like us. He was determined this world would destroy itself without outside interference and knew I wanted to replace him and govern this world as I saw fit. And he anticipated your father might have planned something like your timely arrival on the scene.

"So now, it's all coming to an end—all because of your stumbling attempts at using your power. I was hoping you didn't understand your power, so I wouldn't have to fight you with my own and doom the world."

DuLoc sighed. "But now it's all for naught. I'm afraid I have a nasty surprise in store for you, Hemlock. The world may be doomed, but we have several years before the Chaos Dragon reaches us. And I don't intend to let you spoil my final bit of fun. But don't worry. You won't remember anything after it's complete."

Hemlock struggled through significant pain to get to her knees, and her body was starting to show some signs of recovery.

"Ah, ah, ah," teased DuLoc as he waved his hand at her. She saw his eyes flare as he used his power. A vice-like magical field enclosed her suddenly, giving her the impression of being trapped inside an amber-colored, membranous prison. She could still see and hear everything around her, but her paralysis was as complete as anything she had ever experienced. Her body didn't even seem to respond to her commands—she still blinked and breathed reflexively, but no voluntary movement was possible.

"Put her on a cart," said DuLoc. There was a pause and then DuLoc spoke again. "Don't fear her now, she's as helpless as a baby."

Hemlock despaired because she knew it was true.

"Jalis, we need to plan our attack on the City. It should be simple now that my power is unrestrained by fear of the Dragon," said DuLoc as his voice receded.

Hemlock panicked. She desperately tried to channel the power that she had called upon in so many times of crisis, but her calls went unheeded this time. She was completely alone and completely powerless.

She felt herself being lifted and then transported. Eventually, mercifully, a deep sleep overtook her panic.

...

She awoke in a stone chamber. It was dark except for glowing light that came in through two wide, arched windows built into the two walls she could see in her catatonic state. She thought the light was reddish, but it was hard to tell through the membrane of magic that still surrounded her. The air looked heavy and hot, although she couldn't feel it. The light pulsated and appeared to come from below. She had the sense that the chamber she sat in was housed within a much larger enclosed space, and she could see what appeared to be distant cavern walls through the far window.

Tored's body sat in front of her about twenty feet away against the far wall. She assumed he was dead, but then noticed that his wounds had been crudely bandaged, and she thought sweat was pouring off him. But he was very pale. It was only when he groaned softly the she was sure he was alive.

Her heart soared.

If Tored is alive, there's still a chance. And all I've ever needed is a chance!

Her thoughts turned to Falignus. She had lost track of him on the battlefield after she'd knocked the crown from his head. He'd been wounded and unconscious.

Maybe someone rescued him?

But as the minutes turned to hours—punctuated only by Tored's faint groans—her optimism began to fade. She was still completely paralyzed and completely unable to channel any power from the other worlds. She couldn't conceive any approach to resist what DuLoc had done to her. Even if Falignus lived, he wouldn't have the power to resist DuLoc. She recalled seeing a Seeker carrying the Imperator's artifacts away. So, presumably, DuLoc had control of those—and they were too dangerous to use anyway.

Finally, as the absence of stimulation began to erode her composure, she heard voices in the distance. These soon gave way to the sound of footsteps that were approaching.

What can I do? I need to take advantage of this opportunity to act.

But the stark reality that presented itself in answer to that question was disheartening. There was nothing she could do. She began to pray, pleading with her father, her maker, a shadowy figure that existed in the abstract for her—that she tried to honor the memory of—but that she'd never felt a deep connection with. The closest she'd come was observing the incredible reality he'd created, but the truth was she didn't have a strong feeling of faith as she heard a heavy iron door unlatched and then dragged open.

DuLoc and Jalis came into view first, followed by a figure she simultaneously hoped and feared was Merit—but she quickly realized was another of the automaton gnomes from the Tower.

"Stand in front of the warrior," said DuLoc to the gnome, pointing to Tored. Then he turned and bowed to Hemlock. She noted that his well-manicured appearance had been restored with a change of clothes and what must have been a lengthy grooming session. None of the desperation she'd witnessed on the battlefield when he'd been struggling with Falignus was visible. She couldn't help but wonder whether her decision to disarm Falignus had been the correct one.

"I'm sorry to have left you alone for so long like this, Hemlock," said DuLoc. Jalis smirked at his side. "I had business to attend to," continued DuLoc. "You'll be disappointed to learn that your precious City fell to me in just one hour. Many of your wizard friends were killed. In fact, I personally dispatched that precocious woman who seemed to be leading them, and then that lizard fellow charged me, and I had to slay him as well."

Hemlock could do nothing but sit silently and reel in shocked silence. She wondered whether he would lie to her, but the cavern they were in reminded her of the caverns below the Wizard Tower, which seemed to lend credence to his assertion that he was in full control of the City.

It's all over, then.

DuLoc stooped down to take a closer look at her eyes. "It's a shame this paralysis is so effective. It robs me of the pleasure of gloating. Jalis, do you think it's safe for me to lessen the intensity of the spell just a little? I'd like to enjoy her reaction to this next part, in particular."

"I'm sure she doesn't pose a threat to you, sir. I recommend it," said Jalis.

DuLoc nodded and then made a gesture with his hand. The visual effect of the membrane became lessened, and she found that she had control of her breathing again. She could focus her eyes and even managed to move a finger.

"I've left the dimensional membrane at full strength, so don't get any wild ideas about resisting me," said DuLoc. "But this should be better for you—and for me."

"I'm...going...to...kill...you," Hemlock managed. She didn't believe it, but it still felt good to say.

As if to underscore her continued helplessness, Tored moaned again.

"Good, good," said DuLoc.

"Now, I am going to tell you what I have in mind for you. You may be familiar with these amusing little mechanical gnomes that run around the Tower doing menial jobs. These were invented by the Imperator himself as a way to imprison and neutralize malcontents. I believe he considered putting me in one of them, but he was ever the coward and had one of his dragons subdue me instead.

"In any case, they have proven to be a remarkably effective means to nullify foes, and they provide a certain level of entertainment value as well. So, my plan is to imprison you in one of these and let you set about the Tower dusting and otherwise making yourself useful. How does that sound?"

Hemlock bristled at the thought, not allowing herself to contemplate what that sort of existence might be like. She didn't respond.

"One benefit," DuLoc continued, "seems to be a virtual immortality—a veritable eternity of placid servitude." DuLoc chuckled. "You must be overcome with gratitude and unable to respond.

"But the thing is," he continued, "I've never cast the spell of transference myself. Sure, I'm aware of it and have it memorized, but I've never actually done it. So, I've concluded I need a practice run. So, I've decided to transfer your friend here first. Evidently, you hold some affection for him. Won't it be nice to have him as a companion in your new life? It's a shame that you won't remember one another, but you'll be together, nonetheless."

"Monster," she hissed.

DuLoc smiled broadly.

"Alright, Jalis. I've enjoyed this repartee, but it's time to get this process started. Please begin the pre-spell and evict the current spirit from the vessel."

Jalis began to gesture and speak words of power. A glowing rune appeared below the automaton and then there was a popping sound. The small figure seemed to collapse on itself, assuming a hunched posture although it did not fall to the floor.

"Completed," said Jalis.

"Perfect, now let us stand aside so Hemlock can witness the transference," said DuLoc.

Hemlock mouthed the word "NO" in silence. She turned her head to the side slowly.

"Hold her head forward, Jalis!"

"With pleasure sir," said Jalis, straightening her head violently.

She closed her eyes but then opened them again, unable to stop watching for some reason. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

She mouthed the word "NO" over and over again.

DuLoc began to gesture and Hemlock noticed he no longer used the Wand. His eyes glowed again as they had on the battlefield, and then Tored's body let out a long exhalation. At that same moment, the automaton twitched and then stood upright.

Hemlock looked on in horror as DuLoc smiled and kicked Tored's body over. It slumped to the ground.

Tored is really dead—at least in body...

DuLoc turned his attention to the automaton. "So, small one, can you identify yourself to me?"

Hemlock saw the telltale signs of thought she'd seen on Merit many times—the gears on the automaton's head spun and whirred and then it spoke.

"I am unit six, servant of the Tower," it said.

DuLoc turned to Hemlock and did a theatrical bow. "Behold the great warrior Tored in his new guise!"

The feeling of horror and loss became so intense that Hemlock lost track of her surroundings for a time.

When she regained her composure, DuLoc and Jalis were gone. They'd left Tored's corpse and the gnomish automaton—what remained of Tored―was with her.

She began to sob.

...

Otticus waited until DuLoc and Jalis had been gone for several minutes. Then he motioned to Renevos to come forward. It took the old wizard a long time to traverse the distance between the seldom used cave he had been waiting in and the boulder near the cliffside chamber where Hemlock was being held. Renevos had been wounded by battle magic. His once proud beard had been burned and shaved and was now reduced to a white stubble. His leg had been badly burned, which had slowed his walking speed. Otticus was surprised the old wizard had actually lasted the entire journey through the caves, but he had proven to be a tough old buzzard.

Otticus recalled the final defense of the City, and how he had shamefully fled in a drunken stupor from the assault by DuLoc. Soon after, Renevos found him in his apartment trying to drink himself into oblivion. The old man cast a spell to sober him up and then drafted him into a fledgling resistance group. He wasn't sure why, but he had been unable to find it in himself to turn the old wizard down. Perhaps it was the prospect of one final, unlikely chance to play a part in the liberation of the City that enticed him. Or maybe it was the pitiable physical state of the old wizard, and his taciturn defiance in the face of adversity.

Either way, here he was, about to risk his life to try and rescue Hemlock. He thought about all his friends that had perished while fighting against DuLoc, and he felt a swelling pride that Renevos had rallied him back into action. He felt like himself again, even though he still didn't have his fighting abilities.

Renevos had taken a jar of red ointment from his robes and was painting runes onto Otticus' arms.

"Now, there will be risks. I've never attempted this without a true tattoo. The magical link will be more tenuous this way. But you've already used the teleport runes. You'll be fine," said Renevos.

"I'm not worried. I was already dead, so I'm not risking anything by doing this," Otticus said.

Renevos gave him a sharp look. "Don't be overconfident! But it's good you are doing this. I don't detect any wards on yonder chamber, but I feel sure DuLoc has some eyes upon it. This way, you won't be detected. Remember what we talked about..."

Renevos took a glass vial from his robes and gave it to Otticus. "Have her drink this potion if she is able. If not, just pour it down her throat or even over her head. It should have a restorative effect on her."

"I understand. We've gone over this five times already," snapped Otticus, feeling impatient.

Finally, Renevos completed his rune painting, took a step back, and nodded toward Otticus.

The young wizard didn't need any further urging. He focused on the runes and then recalled the way he had used them before when they were tattooed. He felt the familiar sensation of gathering power, but the power felt much less focused and more volatile. This was what Renevos had warned him about.

He imagined the interior of the chamber and hoped he wouldn't teleport inside a rock or another person. He appreciated the desperation of the plan just as he committed himself to the process and blinked out of existence.

He reappeared in an instant and immediately noticed several things. First, he was alive and unharmed by the teleportation. Second, Tored was in the chamber, but judging by his appearance, he was dead. Third, Hemlock was there and appeared to be responsive. Fourth, one of the Tower automatons was there.

Otticus did his best to contain his feelings of anguish and rage at finding Tored's body and knelt beside Hemlock.

He held the vial to her lips and said, "Drink this."

She made a drinking motion with her lips but when he poured the liquid into her mouth, he noticed a faint glow around her that appeared to block the passage of the liquid. Instead, the liquid poured over her chin and down her neck and was consumed by the glowing membrane. The glow seemed to fade a few levels of intensity.

Hemlock looked at him and nodded. Satisfied he had helped her, he rose and knelt beside the body of Tored. The old man's eyes were open, vacant, and staring. Otticus reached down and gently closed them.

When he looked up, he was surprised to see Hemlock perched on the edge of one of the arched windows that were featured on three sides of the chamber.

"Get down," he cried as he saw a strange look in her eyes.

"Stay back," she hissed, inching backward toward what he knew would be a fatal fall into the lava-like river of Maker's Fire that rushed below the chamber in a deep chasm.

He raised his hands cautiously. "Alright, just stay still. What are you doing?"

She spoke slowly but seemed alert to any sudden movements, so he let her finish.

"DuLoc has beaten me. I realize now that he's too powerful—and, worse yet, he has me under his control. Even if I managed to escape, I would never be a threat to him. What you've managed to do for me is just temporary—his spell is far too strong.

"My only path forward is to seek a greater power. I need to find my father. I'm not sure who is still left, but you need to keep hope alive while I'm gone, Otticus."

"Hemlock, stop. This is crazy," he said.

"Keep hope alive," she said as she pushed herself backward. Otticus leapt forward and extended out of the window to the waist. But she was already ten feet beyond his grasp by the time he reached down for her. He watched, transfixed, as she fell for what seemed to be an eternity. Finally, she reached the molten fire below and was consumed.
Chapter Twelve

It happened in the blink of an eye. A liberated spirit entered the crucible of infinite time. In a few more moments, before existence had fully given way to infinity, it was attracted away from that ultimate repose toward another incarnation.

It passed through many bardos, where its senses were assailed by illusion. But it continued on, undeterred, toward a higher plane of existence. There, unfettered by memory of its past, it approached the vessel that would bear its new incarnation. As it entered this new form, even its memory of the passage through infinite space faded...

...

The first sensation she felt was a warm breeze softly blowing her hair into her face. Her hair tickled her nose and then she felt dry sand against her cheek. She opened her eyes and was overwhelmed by a paralyzing light. Instinctively, she brought her free hand up to cover her eyes. Her other hand was under her hip. She removed it and turned onto her back.

The sun was directly overhead in a cloudless blue sky, and she quickly turned her head to the right to avoid its ferocity.

She heard an avian cry overhead. Rising onto her elbows and using her hand to shield her eyes, she observed several white gulls flying above her.

She was on a sandy beach. The sand was pearl white, and it emphasized the luminous golden color of the flesh of her hand as she steadied herself.

Her hand was alien to her. She looked at herself from her torso and arms all the way down to her feet. Her body was that of a healthy human female in the prime of life. But her body was unfamiliar. Her skin was a golden color, but this did not stand out to her. She was lean and muscular and felt good.

Having no memories at all, she had no idea who she was; although, she did seem to have a certain frame of reference for some things. She understood, for instance, that she was a woman, and she had some familiarity with her anatomy; but beyond that, she didn't seem to recall anything.

She looked out at the azure water surrounding the beach. Gentle waves broke over the shallow surf. The pure white sand was visible beneath the nearly transparent water that was close to shore.

She rose, and as she did, she noticed a pronounced curvature to the shore line that suggested she was on a small fjord or island. The visible beach on which she stood was only a few hundred yards across.

Behind the beach, there was a small stretch of verdant growth, which was interspersed with tropical trees and great, broad-leafed ferns. Behind that, the landscape rapidly turned mountainous.

A huge, elongated, multi-pronged spire of rock rose from behind the vegetation and towered above the beach. It looked to be several hundred yards in height. It was composed of a partially transparent rock that had visible veining and varied in color from near white to near black.

A pleasant breeze gusted in from the water, and she turned back toward the vast blue expanse. She noticed several islands in the distance. They appeared to be several miles out and grouped into three clusters. Each island seemed to have similar characteristics. They were all ringed with beaches and their interiors were dominated by huge rocky crags.

The central, rocky portion of each island greatly varied in appearance, however. Some were pure rock of multiple colors, wherein every hue of the rainbow seemed to be in evidence. Others were monochrome peaks. Some were covered in plant life, while others looked like they had been fashioned into great towers of rock, with balconies and windows in abundance.

She wondered whether she was also on an island, since what she could see of the beach she stood on and the soaring rock behind it appeared to be consistent with the appearance of the other islands.

She noticed that some of the distant islands appeared to be moving slowly. One of the clusters was moving in unison. And individual islands were visibly moving in relation to the clusters that they were closest to.

She wasn't sure why, but this movement did not strike her as being unusual.

A bird called out. It was close overhead. She looked upward as she heard something land heavily in the sand nearby.

The bird was large and golden, its feathers colored like her skin. Unlike the numerous gulls, this bird was larger with a long, powerful beak and talons. It flew away from her, climbing and soaring close to the rocky heights as it circled the beach and flew out of sight.

She looked down. There was something near her in the sand. It was a slender rock shaped like a cylinder. It was clear quartz—so clear it was almost transparent.

She approached the item and picked it up.

The cylinder was warm in her hand. She instinctively lifted it to her eye. Closing her other eye, she could see the distant horizon of water in more detail.

She turned the cylinder toward the cluster of islands and concentrated on one that had moved away from the cluster. This island had a beautiful central tower of blue-green rock that curved and undulated from its wide base to a slender mid-section and finally to a wider top. Its entire height was ringed with a yellow pathway that wound lazily around its perimeter and connected to the top section, near its apex.

The blue-green island appeared to be approaching.

She lowered the cylinder to her waist and inspected the same island with her naked eye. It was definitely approaching.

She heard the distant call of the golden hawk.

She was filled with a desire to see it again. As she began to walk down the beach, she glanced periodically at the approach of the blue-green island.

As she walked, the curve of the beach remained consistent.

After a period of time, when she thought she was close to the other side of the island, she saw another island that was very close.

This island was dominated by a white central peak that was slender at its base but rose to a broad top, which was lushly forested. A golden figure stood on the sand below the rock and waved to her.

The golden hawk flew overhead, circling the nearby island.

She mimicked the gesture and waved back to the figure. It smiled, and she sensed the white-rock island that bore the figure was coming closer. She felt a tinge of fear, but a call from the golden hawk calmed her.

Soon, the white island was very close, and she could see its rocky heights in more detail. There was a simple building carved into the rock-face with a gently curving stairway that climbed from the beach up to its doorway.

The golden figure was a man. He had luminous eyes and smooth, golden skin like hers. His chest was broad and powerful.

His appearance was ageless, but something about his expression gave her an impression of paternal benevolence. He smiled at her and spread his hands, then pointed to the black and white rock in the center of her island.

She looked at the rock and then back at him. He held up his hand with an index finger raised. Then he turned toward his island's craggy peak. He pointed at a section of rock and a low rumbling sound shook both islands.

She was scared again, and her instinct was to run away. But the man quickly turned back to her and made small motions with his hands outstretched toward her, palms open. The gesture calmed her.

She then noticed that the rock in the area where he had pointed had changed. Where it had been flat and featureless, a section now rose straight into the air in a thin extrusion. The man smiled again and resumed his pointing at the rock.

The rumbling began again, and the rock extended higher. Then the man lowered his arm and the rock curved downward. He turned back and pointed toward her island. The rumbling continued, and the outcropping of rock now approached her island. As the rock extended farther, a supporting structure broke through the sand underneath it and merged with it as it advanced.

Soon, the rock reached the waterline and the man halted it. He looked at her questioningly. She had the sense that he was asking her permission to extend the rock onto her island.

She nodded her head.

The man resumed pointing, the rumbling started again, and soon a thin tendril of rock—which became ever thinner as it grew longer—extended over her beach and finally reached the black and white rock on her island.

The melding that occurred as the rock fused brought her into mental contact with the man. A voice sounded in her mind. It spoke in a syntax she was somehow able to understand.

"Welcome traveler!" it said.

She wasn't sure how to reply, but when she tried, it was effortless. "Thank you," she responded.

"Your island rose from the sea three moons ago. I have been awaiting your arrival."

"Where am I?"

"You are here, of course!"

"Where is here?"

"I have asked the same question and received no reply. The sun and the water do not ask such questions, they just are. So it is for us, I think."

She accepted the answer, although it did little to quench her curiosity. She searched the horizon as if seeking more information and noticed something. There was another cluster of islands in the distance, but they were very far away and surrounded by dark clouds that obscured them significantly.

She pointed at this cluster and asked, "What are they?"

The man looked and then replied, "A storm is always over them. Some conflict plays out there. The seas there are violent. I have stayed away from them."

She continued to look at the stormy cluster. They attracted her for some reason. "They are beautiful."

"Really? I do not perceive them that way. That is interesting."

The man seemed to be distracted by something in the distance. She turned and saw the blue-green island, which had been approaching, was now very near. Its central peak was very much larger than her islands, and it was adorned with an intricate network of buildings, walls, and spiraling towers.

"You must greet this visitor," said the man. And then his closeness was gone. She looked and saw the tendril of white rock that had connected them receding back toward his island. And then his island was also moving. The man smiled again and waved at her, but she thought he looked troubled.

This realization filled her with some trepidation, but she turned and walked to the other side of her island to meet the newcomer.

The blue-green island was so immense that it cast her entire island in shadow as it neared. As she walked around her beach, the lower part of the blue-green island was revealed. It was a series of grand arches, walls, and gates. But, in great contrast to the grandeur of the upper part of the peak, the lower part stood mostly in ruins.

A figure caught her eye. It stood at the end of a flying buttress which braced a great structure with a vaulted ceiling that stood high above her, near the peak of the blue-green rock. The figure pointed toward her island and the rumbling of shifting rock started.

As blue-green rock approached her island, it was braced from above by a series of rising beams that formed in an intricate, curved pattern that was far more grandiose than the simple tendril the other island's inhabitant had employed.

She noted, however, that this man had not asked her permission to connect with her.

When the connection was made, the man immediately spoke. His tone, felt more than heard, was booming and imperious compared to the gentle bearing of her first visitor.

"Greetings, outcast. You have arrived here under unfortunate circumstances. You are ignorant and unskilled and must learn to work your rock. You must protect yourself. Build high and strong to contain the beast that lurks within. Otherwise, you will end up uncivilized and without hope like that other who has greeted you. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't. How do I learn to work rock? And what about this beast?"

"Every island has a beast. When the sun sleeps in the night, the beast emerges from hiding. It will torment you and destroy your creations. You must wall it in with rock and build high so that if it destroys your lower works, your upper structures will be untroubled."

"The other visitor didn't mention anything about this."

"That's because he's a fool. Do not trust him. Practice working with rock. Build high and strong. And wall in your beast. I will check on you tomorrow. Good luck."

"Wait!" she cried, but the rock was withdrawn swiftly. The man did not wave as his island receded. She watched the island of blue-green rock move away until it reached a cluster of other islands that she had seen earlier.

This man had been callous and haughty, but she also felt an attraction to him. The great structures he had built appealed to her—awed her, even. She felt an urge to meet his expectations and be accepted by him.

She looked over at her black and white rock and wondered if she could learn to shape it like her last visitor could. She tentatively stuck out her finger and pointed at some nearby. Nothing happened. She pointed again and tried to imagine the rock rising upward. Nothing happened again—or so she initially thought. But then she realized she felt a faint rumbling just before she had given up.

She tried it again, and this time, the rumbling became more pronounced. Soon, the rumbling seemed to take on a life of its own and continued even after she had stopped concentrating. She looked to her left and watched as a section of rock fell away from part of the rock wall, revealing a dark opening surrounded by clouds of debris.

The opening scared her. But she was curious and approached it slowly. As she neared it, she noticed an odor—a bestial odor. Still, she crept closer and closer until a guttural growl from within stopped her short. She retreated hastily and went to the far side of the island so she was as far from the cave as possible.

The white island was approaching her again, but deep shadows in the rock alerted her to the rapidly approaching dusk. The man on the island waved to her, but she waved quickly and then turned away, fearful of wasting time.

She tried to work the rock more frantically—with some success. After several attempts, she managed to raise four pillars of rock to a height of roughly twenty feet. She next tried to build a platform atop them, but when she did, one of the pillars sheared off and the entire platform crumbled. She repaired the fallen pillar and then succeeded in creating a platform. Next, she crafted a set of crude stairs that allowed her to climb atop the platform.

She recalled the shadowy opening on the other side of the island and remembered the words of the man from the blue-green island. It suddenly occurred to her that she should have sealed the opening. She considered whether she should attempt to do this before night fell, but the advancing shadows dissuaded her.

Night arrived swiftly, and she was glad to be on the platform. She quickly destroyed the makeshift steps she had built and waited.

She noticed that the white island was leaving. The man was still visible on the beach and was waving to her. She waved back uncertainly.

Then a piercing scream from the other side of the island broke the silence of the evening. She lay down on the platform of rock, trying not to be seen.

Another bestial scream came next, and this time, it was closer to her. She was terrified. She considered leaping off the platform and running, but it occurred to her that there was nowhere to run on the island. She thought about the man on the blue-green island and the high towers he had—wishing that she was safely sheltered by them instead of facing the uncertain terror that approached.

Next, she heard deep breathing and approaching footsteps. She grasped the edges of the rocky platform so hard that the rock began to dig into her palms. She didn't dare look at the approach of the creature.

A scream emanated from impossibly close, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. But she did her best to remain still and silent.

The beast was under her platform—pounding on it. She heard the sounds of rending rock and realized, with a sense of horror, the beast was attempting to destroy the pillars. She hoped the pillars would hold, but after what seemed like an eternity of fear, there was a shudder in the platform, and she knew one of the pillars had been broken.

Anticipating the collapse of the platform, she turned to the rock face across from her. Desperate, she focused her energy on carving out an indentation in the wall. The platform she was on buckled slightly as she completed her task. She managed to create a small nook in the rock, but it was a few scant feet across and a good ten feet from the platform.

She knew the platform could fall at any moment, so she didn't hesitate to run toward the edge and leap with all her might. She easily reached the nook, but she hit the wall with enough force that it caused her to bounce backward and she almost fell. Fortunately, her searching fingers found a handhold and she was able to steady herself as the platform gave way behind her, crumbling to the ground.

She cowered in her nook and the beast let out renewed wails of rage. She felt it begin to pound on the rock face below her, and the rock vibrated alarmingly. But her perch remained intact for the rest of the night. She had a few moments of rest between the raging fits of whatever was loose on the beach below her. But the night was thoroughly exhausting.

She was greatly relieved when the skies above finally began to lighten. In a short time, the beast howled again from the far side of the island and then was gone.

She waited for what seemed a long time before cautiously crafting some steps to aid her descent back onto the beach.

As she reached the sand, still listening for sounds from the beast, she saw the white island was approaching again. When it reached her, the man again gestured questioningly, and she nodded, assuming he was asking permission to communicate.

The connection was established, and the man asked an urgent question.

"How did you fare in the night? I tried to speak to you before it all started, but you didn't seem ready to talk."

"The man with the blue-green island warned me about the beast. Why didn't you?"

"Our conversation was cut short by your other visitor, and he is hostile to me."

She wondered what form this hostility might take, but did not inquire about it immediately. "Still, wouldn't the beast be the first thing you'd mention to a new person?"

"I didn't want to scare you. And the beast is not necessarily something to be feared."

"No? It seemed terrifying enough to me last night."

The man looked sad. "I'm sorry. It does tend to react violently to fear. But it's not evil. It's more like your fear infects it and makes it scared. And when it's scared, it lashes out violently."

"It acted like it was trying to kill me."

"It just seemed like that. If it had caught you, it wouldn't have harmed you unless you tried to harm it. It tends to mirror your actions like that. If you find it repellent, then it tends to view you the same way and wants to destroy anything you create."

"If you knew all this, why did you leave me after dark?"

"I feared my own beast would frighten you even more. They are wild creatures and can be startling to behold—although you do get used to them after a time."

"That other man called you a fool. Why?"

"I am different than him. His kind fears their beasts and tries to control them. They tried to instill that fear in me, but after a while, I got curious. I started to observe my beast, and with that observation came the realization that it isn't terrible."

A shadow fell over the beach and she feared the night was already upon her again, but she turned and saw the blue-green island had approached again.

She started to tell the man on the white island she had to go, but he had already disengaged. He waved to her and she waved back before going to the other side of her island.

She didn't like being close to the dark cave where she knew the beast lurked, but it was unavoidable. Turning away from it, she looked up and admired the great blue-green towers, which reached so high into the azure sky that she half expected them to touch the fluffy clouds that lazily drifted overhead. She saw the connection being made just a moment before the man began to speak.

"So, have you passed the first night without going mad? Yes, it appears to be so. Good. That being the case, I assume you managed to build a shelter for yourself. Get started on improving that immediately today. Though it may be distasteful, stay on this side of the island and do not speak with the man in white any longer. He will only distract you from what's important. I look forward to speaking with you when you have built to a height where proper decorum may be observed."

She felt embarrassed. "I will do my best. The beast was terrifying."

"I understand," he said. "I have high hopes for you. Don't let me down. Start building now!"

With that comment, he disengaged the connection and his island sailed away. She wondered whether he would introduce her to the others he again rejoined. She noticed a curious fire passing between the blue-green peak and a scarlet island. She continued to watch it for a while, but it became harder to see as the cluster moved away, and she remembered the advice of the blue-green man.

By the time dusk approached, she had managed to build a fifty-foot platform in the air that was reached by a stairway with a span she could easily destroy to prevent access by the beast. And this platform was built atop solid rock rather than being supported by pillars. She had also managed to build a wall, sealing up the cave where the beast dwelled.

As the stars came out, she sat safely upon her platform as the beast below began to rage against her wall. The screams of the beast reached a fever pitch, and the wall came down with a crash. She wanted to look away but something kept her attention on the beast as it sprinted onto the beach while whooping and throwing sand high into the air.

Then it calmed briefly and looked in her direction. It was covered in hair, but appeared to be built similarly to her. Its eyes did not glow but long, protruding teeth reflected the moonlight. It had claws like blades.

She tried not to be repulsed by the creature, but found she was unable to suppress the feeling. The beast began to whoop again and then it charged toward her perch. When it reached the rock, she saw it begin to pound and slash at the rock with shocking force. Its claws seemed to have no problem penetrating her foundation.

She did manage to get some rest, despite the nearly incessant wailing of the beast.

In the morning, she awoke at sunrise and saw the beast had already departed into its cave.

She restored her exit path and then walked down to the beach to inspect the damage the beast had done. As she had seen from above, the wall she had built around the cave mouth was completely destroyed. The underside of her platform was also deeply scored to a point almost ten feet inside the original line of the cliff wall. The power of the creature was astonishing.

But she was learning to build. She had the damage repaired before the sun was overhead. At this point, the golden hawk appeared again and squawked until it got her attention. It then flew toward the other side of the island. She followed, and the white island was waiting there with the kindly man, who smiled and waved. She looked at his simple shelter in the rock and realized what she had built already surpassed his structures. She began to pity him for his simplicity.

"How was last night?" he asked.

"Better."

"Better for you, but what about for the beast?"

"I care not for the beast. I can build high now and can control it. I will build great structures like the blue-green island has and then I will be free of the beast."

"That isn't so, the beast will always be with you, and you should want it to be with you and a part of you—not separate from you."

"I'm sorry, I don't agree. I find it to be disgusting and want no part of it. It seems like the other islands all separate themselves from it."

"That's true, but they don't understand the beast. They prefer to pretend it doesn't exist rather than trying to understand it. I have an idea. Build yourself a platform on this side of your island tonight. When night falls, I will remain close. Watch how my beast passes the night and then we will discuss it tomorrow."

As she considered this, the shadow of a great island appeared again. She waved goodbye to the kindly man and returned to the other side of the island.

"You've done well for yourself. In a few more days, you might be halfway to a civilized height," said the master of the blue-green island.

"Thank you," she said.

"I want you to try something."

"What?"

"I am going to try connecting with you in another way."

"You're asking me this time instead of just doing it. Why?"

"Because you've changed, and because you have to agree to this."

"Alright, what is going to happen?"

"Just wait and don't give any sudden reactions."

With that, a tendril of smokeless flame shot out from an upper tower in the blue-green rock. The flame descended in an arc toward her new platform. She felt its warmth as it approached. And when it connected, it stirred a passion in her she hadn't known existed. It was a more intimate connection, and she could perceive the other man's thoughts. She felt his passion but also felt he was guarded—like he wasn't sharing something about himself. But she gave herself over to the thrill of the sensation and experienced some of the pride he felt at his lofty creations.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"Good, keep building. Perhaps I will introduce you to the others in time."

With that, he disengaged both links and moved his island back toward the cluster.

She was left feeling alone and confused. The feeling worsened when she saw a similar fiery link to the one she had just experienced linking the blue-green island to scarlet one, again. She realized she had revealed everything about herself to the man over the fiery link, but he had not done the same. This made her angry and a little sad.

She spent the rest of the afternoon building an even higher platform and walling in her beast with an even greater wall.

As night fell, she remembered what the kindly man had asked her to do and felt badly about forgetting to do it.

When the beast came, it was worse than the prior night. It raged even harder against the larger wall she'd made, and it still broke through. When it emerged onto the beach, she saw its hands were bloodied and one of its claws had broken. Despite being repulsed by the beast, she felt a little sorry for it as it clawed and raged against her mountain. It seemed to calm a bit after that, taking rests where it ran wide circles on the beach and whooped before returning to its destructive ways.

In the morning, the golden hawk appeared again.

The kindly man was waiting for her.

"I missed you last night."

"Sorry, I forgot. Something happened with the man on the blue-green island that I don't understand. We connected with fire instead of stone, and he saw into every part of me but didn't share himself. What does it mean?"

The kindly man shook his head. "That's one of the great questions of life. That man seems taken with the flames. But I don't think he understands the significance of them. I suspect you already understand more about it than he does."

"I feel like he deceived me."

"Perhaps, but he's probably also deceived himself, if that's any consolation."

She didn't reply, considering his words. She wasn't sure how to feel.

"Will you think about what I said? About watching me in the night?"

"Yes."

With that, the shadow again marked the approach of the blue-green island. But, this time, she was not inclined to talk with the island's master. She was still thinking about what had happened.

She hoped he would go away but was startled to feel a stone connection with him.

"Come here. I would like to speak with you."

"No, please go away. I'd like some time to myself."

"Nonsense, come here."

"No!" she cried and imagined forcefully ending the connection. To her surprise, her island rumbled, and she felt the connection had been ended by her will.

Suddenly, there was a strange odor in the air, and then a bolt of lightning leapt from the blue-green island to hers, smiting the rock and causing a small rockslide at the point of impact. Somehow the rock transmitted a sensation of pain to her, which brought her to her knees.

She felt the connection open again.

"I will not be ignored!"

"Just get away from me!"

There was another thunderclap and she heard an exclamation from the blue-green island's master before the connection was broken. She ran around to the other side of the island and saw the white island had approached the blue-green one. Now lightning strikes were being exchanged between them both.

She tried to initiate a link with the white island. The act was unfamiliar to her, but her mastery of the rock allowed her to succeed.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

The kindly man sounded pained when he replied. "He's a wretched man to attack you like that. I won't stand for it. But look! His friends approach! They will help him. We have to get out of here... Follow me."

He broke the link and she saw his island move quickly away from the blue-green island. And the cluster of islands with the crimson island was indeed approaching.

She realized that she didn't know how to move her island and began to panic as the blue-green island sought to restore a connection.

But the golden hawk was overhead again, and this time, he dropped a small scroll, which fluttered down with frustrating slowness until she finally had it.

She opened it up and read it. "To move your island, you must part the water in front of it in the direction you wish to move. Control the water like you control the stone."

She ran to the end of her island where the white island was visible. She felt a stone connection establish but she quickly ended it. As if in response, a lightning bolt struck, but she didn't feel an impact. Instead, a ruined carcass fell to the sand nearby. She saw, with sadness, that it was the golden hawk's remains.

She turned and made a gesture of defiance to the master of the blue-green island. And then her island began to move. It was easier than she had expected and soon she had caught up with the kindly man.

She looked back and saw that although the other islands were pursuing them, they were not closing the distance between them. It was then she noticed that they were all heading toward the cluster of islands obscured by the storm clouds. This excited her although she remembered that the kindly man thought they were dangerous.
Chapter Thirteen

The man on the white island established a stone link with her as they continued to flee their pursuers.

"We are getting too close to the storms ahead," he said.

She looked at the dark clouds. There were five towers there in a cluster—each appearing to be much taller than even the blue-green island. The clouds above the distant towers were luminous as thunder and lightning roiled inside them, casting the towers below them in a fell light. She noted that the seas had become choppy. The sun was also low in the sky, and the shadows had grown longer.

"It will be nighttime soon. What will we do then?" she asked.

"The others will stop pursuing us soon. They've made their point, and they will want to shelter themselves from their beasts," the kind man replied. "What about you? Are you prepared for the night?"

She took a mental inventory of her shelter. Fortunately, her new platform was still intact, and she thought it would withstand another night of the beast's rage.

"Yes, I'm ready for the night."

"Good. My island is facing your shelter this time. You'll be able to see my beast. Will you look at it as we discussed?"

"I guess so, if you think it will help."

"I do."

"Alright."

It soon became clear that their pursuers had halted for the night. She rushed for her shelter, scrambling up the stairs and across the ramp she'd created just as she heard the first howls break through the night. She quickly destroyed the ramp and sat down to endure the impending commotion.

But then she heard howls from the white island mixing in with those of her own beast. Her beast was still running and whooping but had not begun to destroy the rock. Looking across the water that divided her island from the gentle man's, she didn't see any activity on his beach. But she could still hear the cries of his beast from the far side of his island.

As she continued to watch from her perch, the other beast ran into view. It was running and whooping just like her beast was. But then the gentle man came into view, running on the beach behind his beast. The gentle man showed no fear even though his beast howled and screamed and danced around him.

She was transfixed as she saw the gentle man stop and concentrate. A pillar of white rock burst from the sand in front of him. Seeing this, his beast let out a loud whoop and charged the pillar, smashing it with both hands. The gentle man created another pillar and then another. Each time, his beast whooped and then destroyed the new pillar. Beast and man ran down the beach together, repeating this sequence of creation and destruction over and over again until both faded from view.

Curious, she looked down to see what her own beast was doing. It was stationary, although it swayed back and forth in place. It was looking at her, and its eyes looked almost curious. But she saw its fur was matted with its own filth and noticed the grotesque teeth and the savage claws again. She shuddered with revulsion, and the beast howled and charged her platform, reaching the rock and smashing it with terrible force.

She knew she'd made a mistake, but she didn't know how to control her feelings about the beast. Then she had an idea. She leaned over her platform and created a column of rock behind the beast.

The beast, hearing the crumbling of the displaced rock around the pillar, noticed it and halted its assault. It hunched and rested on its haunches before circling the new pillar warily. Then it let out a loud whoop and charged the pillar, smashing it with a rake of its clawed hand.

Heartened, she created another pillar down on the beach, and the beast charged it again, whooping continuously.

Then a distant sound of howling distracted her.

Suddenly, she realized the gentle man had made another stone connection.

"Look behind you! The others are approaching in the night. They are almost upon us. We must start moving again!"

She looked to her left in horror as she saw the three islands that had been pursuing them were close at hand. She looked at the blue-green island and could see the man controlling it was standing high in his citadel, while below, his beast raged amongst the ruins of walls and bulwarks.

She saw the white island begin to move. But she couldn't see the direction they needed to flee from her platform.

"I can't move from here!" she cried.

"Then you must go down onto the beach!" replied the gentle man.

She looked down at her beast, which had flown into another rage below her.

"I can't do it. It's too terrifying."

"If you don't, the others will catch us. They'll burn us and humiliate us, and may even kill us. I've seen them do it before. You must move your island. Now!"

She was full of fear as she conjured the platform that would allow her to exit down to the beach. Below her, her beast screamed with a renewed frenzy and pounded the cliff wall.

She charged across the platform and down the steps and then sprinted hard when she hit the beach. She could hear the footfalls and deep breaths of the beast behind her as it followed.

"Move! It won't harm you," cried the gentle man, who had stopped moving in order to wait for her.

She stood and faced in the direction of the storm clouds and concentrated on the water. She felt a shudder underfoot as her island began to move, but then the beast appeared in front of her. Its features were even more grotesque up close. Its yellowed and decayed fangs and the smell of its festering breath were directly in her path. She trembled all over and closed her eyes reflexively.

Her island stopped moving.

"Move, now!" cried the man as the beast howled and raged mere inches from her face.

She gritted her teeth and opened her eyes, trying desperately to ignore the terror that danced in front of her. Her island began to move again in fits and starts as she would close her eyes by reflex and then open them through force of will.

"Good. You're doing it," said the man.

After a while, the beast began to run around her rather than menacing her up close. This made it easier for her to maintain speed.

"We're putting some distance between us now. They realize their surprise was foiled. You did it!"

Her heart soared at his praise. She even created a few columns of rock which her beast destroyed with gusto.

Despite their apparent success, the gentle man was cautious as they continued to move through the night. The sky became increasingly dark as they got closer to the storm over the cluster of islands ahead of them, and the seas became rougher and rougher, causing great waves to pound the surf.

"I dare not get closer to the storm. We can rest here," he finally said as dawn broke.

She looked behind them and saw that the islands that had been pursuing them were now moving away.

Her beast retreated to its cave and she watched it depart, marveling at how much had changed overnight. In a sense, the beast had defined her existence on the island up to this point. Now she wondered about what came next.

"What do you do on your island?" she asked the man.

"I often build on the beach."

"But doesn't your beast destroy what you build?"

"Every night."

She considered this.

She scanned the horizon, looking away from the stormy area.

"What else is out there?" she asked.

"A good question. The others are content to remain here, but my heart wishes to learn more and see new places. The others have tales of great storms that will consume islands entirely, but I don't believe them. I was readying myself to make a long journey, but then your island sprung up right beside me. I took it as an omen that I was meant to remain for your arrival. I'm glad I did."

"Have many arrived before me?"

"No, not many. Those that do arrive usually arrive near the others. A few islands have surfaced in the outer seas—away from the others—but they have all crumbled and sank back into the sea before a person arrived on them. New islands that spawn new masters are rare."

She returned her attention to the great islands that languished beneath the storm. One was taller than the rest. It was pure white and tree-shaped at the bottom. It was split in the middle, with two branches diverging from the lower trunk at offset angles, one reaching slightly higher than the other. The white rock was punctuated with small rock outcroppings that looked like great crustaceans and gave the illusion of being leafy growths. Each of the two upper branches was topped with a flat surface of rock, and atop the taller branch rested a magnificent tower of opaque crystal, which rose to about half the height of the branch it rested on and reflected the flashing clouds above it, dazzling the eyes.

Beside this white island was a dark island that was slightly smaller. It was made of a jet-black rock that gave it a shadowy appearance under the cover of the clouds until a thunderclap sounded and lightning highlighted the cylindrical form of the towering black rock. This dark tower gave the impression of a set of upturned blades arranged in a radial pattern on slender arms. Curved towers were interspersed through the barb-like structures, looking like misshapen candles with flat roofs.

Lesser still was a red island with a tower built perfectly square as it rose to great height, adorned with bands of golden patterns. Finally, there was a gray island with three great pillars of rock that started apart and swept inward in a graceful arc as they rose to a peak.

Suspended between the towers at the top of these four islands was a cocoon of rock that was supported laterally by each island and from above by a vast net of tendrils that glistened in the light of the storm.

She pointed to these islands and asked, "What do you know about them?"

"The others are guarded about those islands. They refer to that area as 'The Dying Seas.' The tallest island in white is said to have had a master that considers himself a god. It is said he started that storm long ago. Many of the older and wiser islands went to investigate. None of them returned, and now all fear it. I must confess to you that I, too, fear it."

She felt a fear of it as well but also a strong attraction that she didn't understand.

"It calls to me," she said.

"Really?" said the man. "You must be cautious. You are so very young."

"Why would I feel this way if it is wrong?"

"I do not know. But on this topic, I feel the others are correct. I think it is death to approach those islands—as surely as it is to leave your own. Someday, I may make that journey, but when I do, I will expect it to be my last."

She turned toward him. It had never occurred to her to try to leave her island. "Have you ever tried to leave your island?"

"Yes. When you do, you feel your life slipping away. We are tied to our islands—a part of them—at least for our time here."

She did not ask more questions. She had plenty to consider. After a time, when the sun was high in the sky, she walked to the other side of her island.

There, confident she would not be observed by the gentle man, she stepped out into the choppy water. It felt cold and inhospitable. But her curiosity felt insatiable and she was driven by an urgency she didn't understand.

She stepped farther into the water until it was up to her knees. She looked down, and her golden body was dull underneath the clear water. She didn't understand that but assumed it wasn't a positive sign. Still, she forged ahead, noting that her legs felt strange under the water—tingly and disconnected. But they still carried her forward.

Soon, she was in the water up to her breasts. Her body began to feel heavy, and she noticed her vision was beginning to cloud. Still, she pressed onward. The water was over her head by now, and her body felt heavier than she believed it could. Every step was a struggle, and she began to fear that she would not have the strength to return to her island. Yet something still drove her forward.

She stumbled and fell forward toward the sandy bottom of the sea. She tried to move her arms to stabilize herself but only had limited success. She realized she was going to die. Her vision was now so cloudy that she could only see the sea floor dimly, and her body was no longer responding to her. What she did see, however, was a scintillating line of golden light emanating from her chest out into the darkness. The line was moving and strengthening and then she felt an unfamiliar sensation under her arm.

Next, her head was above the water and she was conscious of something under her arms pulling her. She saw the familiar white rock ahead of her and then saw the gentle man standing on his beach very close to her. She looked down as her legs dragged across the sand and saw two smooth arms of white stone carrying her. Then one retracted and returned across the shallow water back to the gentle man's island while the other extended to create a link.

"You nearly killed yourself," he cried.

She didn't know how to react. The experience frightened her in retrospect, yet everything about it had felt right as she was doing it. Her mind returned to the heights of the distant towers under the clouds.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," was all she could manage. "Maybe I'm not meant to be here."

"We're all where we're meant to be, whether we know it or not."

"That may be so, but if I'm here for a reason, then that reason is so I can go there."

She pointed to the four towers under the perpetual storm.

He looked at her and then down at the sand.

"If that is your will, I cannot follow you there. It's not my path."

The rest of the day passed quietly. The pounding of the surf relaxed her, and the gentle man stayed with her and they talked quietly. When night came, she played with her beast, following the lead of the man.

When the dawn came, they both knew it was time to part.

"I will search for you when I return from my journeys," he said.

"Yes, please do. Thank you for helping me," she replied.

She watched him depart and his island slowly faded into the sunrise. As he disappeared, she had a sudden inspiration. She gathered her will and commanded the rock with all her might, raising her arms and propelling a slender tower of stone high into the sky above her mountain.

She hoped he had seen it, but by the time she was done, he was gone.

She rested until the sun was at the midpoint between the horizon and its highpoint for the day and then approached the stormy seas. Initially, she made quick progress, but the seas grew increasingly rough as she proceeded, and her progress slowed.

Soon, the task became arduous and she worried she might not make it. There was a strong headwind, and her island drifted backward if she stopped moving. Therefore, she did not rest for fear of losing her hard-fought progress.

The rain started as the sun, now muted by clouds, reached high overhead. The rain refreshed her and reminded her of the freedom she'd felt beneath the water when she'd left her island. But the novelty soon wore off, and she continued to struggle against the growing intensity of the storm.

The four towers were very close to her now. Up close, their height was breathtaking. They made her feel small, and she wondered whether she had been a fool to approach them. She searched their heights for people, but there were none.

The central pod that was suspended between the towers caught her attention. A flickering light emanated from within it through oblong slits along its side. There was a network of slender, curved rock connecting each of the towers with the pod, which was suspended below the mesh of curved supports. Spraying water flowed down through the supports and over the top of the pod, bathing it and lending it a watery sheen beyond that conferred by the rain.

She trembled with the effort of maintaining her proximity to the islands, for the opposing current had grown terribly strong. She began to despair, and her strength was waning fast.

She generated one final, desperate push forward. Her island leapt through the current and suddenly the current changed, as if she had penetrated an invisible barrier. Now it was drawing her gently toward the towers.

She collapsed onto the sand and lay with her eyes open, looking at the roiling clouds above her. The bursts of lightning looked threatening, but did not descend out of the clouds or smite the towers. Soon, the peaks of the towers were visible above her, and with them, the strange pod, which seemed to compel her forward like some kind of primordial beacon.

She stood up and looked around her. There was still no sign of the masters of any of the four towers. She tried to work the stone to form a link with the white tower but found she lacked the strength to do it. Her power over her island was completely drained.

She noticed the cave mouth where the beast dwelled and had a sudden notion that she might retire inside to rest and seek shelter from the rain. As she neared it, another thought cautioned her. She'd never discussed entering the cave with the gentle man. What if it was dangerous? It felt dangerous. Was this what happened to the masters of the vacant islands around her? If she entered that cave, would she become like the beast?

She looked up at the pod again. She felt like there would be answers up there—like she had to get there somehow. In desperation, she looked up at the spire of rock she had built to signal goodbye to the gentle man. It was slender, but very tall—reaching close to one of the lower branches of the white tower. A bold idea came to her. Her willpower was spent, but she felt physically strong.

She climbed onto her platform and searched for handholds in the rock. Finding the rock to be cracked and irregular, she had success climbing high above the beach and reaching the peak of her central mountain—the point where the spire started. Looking down over the beach, she was unsure what would happen to her if she fell. She imagined it wouldn't be good.

She looked up at the spire itself. It had looked smooth from below, but she was heartened to see that it was irregular up close and seemed like it would afford good purchase to climb. From this higher vantage point, she still thought there might be a chance to leap onto the white tower from the top of it. She had no clue whether doing so would affect her like entering the water had, but she was determined to try.

Up and up she climbed, her hands at times struggling to maintain their grip on the rain-slicked rock. The wind howled and gusted around her, adding to the feeling that she was navigating a tempest and trying desperately to reach the eye.

A particularly strong gust caught her torso and her feet came out from under her. Her legs splayed out into the air and then one of her hands gave way. She hung awkwardly by the other hand, wondering if this were the end, and if so, what that might mean. But the gust abated, and she was able to regain her footing and stabilize herself.

She was moving more slowly now, gripping the rock, which was no thicker than her torso. The rib of white rock, a part of an understructure that connected the white tower to the central pod, hung above her—tantalizingly near.

She climbed as high as she could on the precariously thin spire until she dared not go higher for fear of falling or breaking the rock, which had narrowed to a sliver as thick as her wrist.

The white rock was close and there was a good handhold for her to grab, but it was several feet above her. She didn't know if she would have the strength to leap that high from an unsteady position, especially after making as long a climb as she had. But there was no turning back now. She squinted against the rain, tensed, and leapt.

For a moment, she was free, sailing upward in the air, un-tethered from the island, and forgetting, for an instant, everything that had led up to this point. All she saw was the dark sky, the clouds, and in the distance, the sun falling lower into a blazing bed of clouds.

But when her hands touched rock, her body remembered, and her hands grabbed ahold of it. She hung there, suspended, her body completely numb. And then she saw her golden body falling below her. The eyes on the body were closed and the limbs were relaxed. The body hit the rock on the way down, bouncing off it into a tumble and then struck the beach, rolling for a bit before coming to rest in a heap.

She wasn't sure whether she was alive, dead, or in some interstitial space between. Her body, such as it was, was still tingly and numb. But she could move. She looked at her dangling feet and saw they were now composed of a dense swarm of golden particles that were partially transparent. She felt oddly buoyant and light, although there was still a sense that she would fall should she let go.

She looked upward at the pod, at the lit openings and the light that played within them, and at the intricate network of white rock chutes that were suspended above it and bathed in torrents of water.

She began to climb.

The climbing was much easier in her new body. She clambered up several ribs and beams until she was level with the pod. She approached it, but there was no entrance she could see except for an opening at the top through which the output of twelve stone channels converged, creating a massive waterfall flowing inside.

She inspected the channels above the pod, trying to gauge the risk of traversing them to reach the upper opening. The concept looked promising, so she climbed higher until she reached a flared baluster that allowed her to hang above one of the channels. The sound of the rushing water soothed her, calming her nerves, which were still frayed by the danger of the lightning that fired within the clouds.

She looked down the length of the stone channel, surveying its twists and turns, its spiral descents and its gentle curves. She wondered how long it would take her to carefully walk along it. The sun had nearly set. She wondered what dangers the night might bring and didn't care to find out. She decided to give herself over to the water.

She dropped into the channel with a splash and lay on her back. The current was swift as she was propelled forward and down, watching other beautiful arcs of rock pass swiftly above her. Sprays of water surrounded her, and soon, she felt like her essence was mixing with the water. She looked down at her arm and her particles were streaming and dancing through the liquid. As they danced, it seemed that strange spirals were forming, lasting only for a moment before the next movements of their symphonic oscillations were realized.

She found herself on the brink of losing context again, but then she went through the great tumult of the waterfall and descended into a dark space with a bright light below her.

And then there was nothing.

Next, with a gradual accumulation, her consciousness slowly regained cohesion.

She was inside the pod on a narrow platform near its bottom edge, looking up at its interior which was mostly dark. A glittering cloud of pinpoint lights shone above her, which dominated the inside of the pod, and through which she perceived the waterfall cascading through the ceiling above. A pool of fire covered the floor in front of the platform she rested on, and the water falling from above was routed to the edges of the fire by great channels of stone that followed the interior curve of the pod's upper circumference, creating bands of falling water interspersed with openings like the one she now looked through. The steam from the meeting of the water and fire seemed to produce the canvas upon which the multitude of tiny lights flickered.

She noticed four kneeling figures on the platform across from her, separated from her by the lake of fire. They were familiar-shaped golden figures of flesh like she had been before her mysterious ascension. One of them had jets of flame shooting from his eyes, which seemed to feed the lake of fire. Two others had their heads bowed downward. The final one was watching her.

Her body felt more familiar to her. Looking down, she saw golden flesh instead of the particles she had recently been composed of. She wondered at this.

"Welcome, child," said a deep voice. She realized a stone link had been established somehow, and she could feel a connection with her island again.

"You nearly perished. Fortunately, I became aware of you while there was still time."

She looked at the distant figure that was watching her but realized the voice that was speaking to her came from the figure with the fire streaming from its eyes.

Obvious questions arose like staccato bursts in her mind but none seemed sufficient for the magnitude of the situation. As she looked at the fire, the steam, and the lights in the mist, she knew there were forces at work that were beyond her comprehension. The flowing water seemed to resonate in musical tones that intermingled with the hiss of the steam and the sparkle of the lights. She felt a sudden rush of ecstasy and fell to her knees. The universe seemed to expand around her and the veil of the possible was lifted. She gained true sight and truths revealed themselves to her in an infinite recursion.

She realized she was looking at a self-contained universe above her in that mist. The mystery of her birth was suddenly clear. She had once been a small sparkle of light contained in that expanse. This kneeling man with the fiery eyes was her father. And she had come here with a purpose in mind—although the details of that purpose had been left in the cloud.

A cloud of doubt penetrated her ecstasy, and the eyes of the other figure demanded her attention. A lattice of greenish energy pulsed beneath his skin, and his irises burned with a viridescence more intense than even the lake of fire.

The green-eyed figure spoke then—but not to her. As he spoke, his mind's voice was the very embodiment of cynicism, scorn, and condescension—seeming like he addressed the room from the heights of a tower many fathoms above. "So, you've managed to secure your progeny. She is of little consequence. Your hubris deludes you. Your masquerade as a self-styled messiah is coming to an end."

And then the ecstasy of love and hope returned as the other figure spoke. There was sadness and pity in the Maker's voice. "The great gulls have passed overhead a hundred times and this mist has grown steadily before us. Its nature is now unmistakable. You resist it and deny its self-evident truth even though it is your creation as much as mine. Don't you perceive your weavings in its spirals?"

"I do—and that will be its undoing," said the Cynic. "We both experienced the delusion. But I understood it for just that. I liberated you from its clutches—but you are obsessed. You cannot accept that it is just an automaton. And this abomination kneeling before us is just the same. You want to fill our world with hollow dreams—but I won't allow you to delude the others. I foresaw your plans!"

"Raise your eyes, child," came the Maker's voice, and this time, she knew he spoke only to her. Her spirit soared in the purity of his thoughts. She looked at him and avoided the baleful gaze of the other figure.

"Do you understand what you see before you?" he asked.

"My old home?" she replied. She still didn't remember it in detail. She was proceeding on instinct.

"Yes, very good. Your determination illuminates the shadows of your former life. You might descend again into that mystery should your will lead you there."

"I feel I must return, although I don't understand why."

"Do you remember the fires in the stars and the yearning for peace? Do you remember wars and the corruption of innocence by fear and desire? That was the struggle you waged." The Maker gestured to the figures with heads bowed beside him. "Here are a dear friend and a mortal enemy—both still dreaming. If you would return, then rise and join them in their repose."

Confused, she stood and began to walk—never taking her eyes off the Maker and the fire of creation that flowed out of him.

"I feel that this is right, but I don't remember anything. How can I follow my destiny if I don't remember it?" she asked.

"You will be like an ocean becalmed when you return. Your placid surface will quickly be distorted by the winds of fate, and you will begin to remember things."

She thought for a few moments as she walked. "If I wanted to, could I choose to remain here and stay with you?"

"I want this more than anything—but it cannot be—not yet. We might know peace for a short time, but I have poured too much of myself into this creation. Your enemy seeks to control the realm, and by doing so, he will control me. Even now, his plots advance rapidly. I regret creating you only to ask you to bear this burden for me, but I have no choice. I must ask this of you even though doing so breaks my heart. Yet, I still have hope for the future. Sometimes hope is all there is."

She continued to walk toward him, and as she did so, her awe faded and her questions flowed freely.

"Were you with me in my other life?" she asked.

"My voice whispered softly through the worlds, and at times, I tried to reach out to you. You may not have heard me, but my hope was that your heart felt my support."

"Why did you create this?" she asked, gesturing toward the twirling lights.

"The imperative of all creatures is to fulfill their destinies. My drive to create took me down a path I didn't understand. I didn't understand the scope of my work until it was nearly complete. Too late, I realized involving others had been a mistake."

She knew he referred to the green-eyed man. The Maker continued to speak.

"My exploration of the nature of life, death, and birth led to explorations of the core of existence. I realized that just as people live and die—cultures live and die, ecosystems live and die, and entire worlds live and die. Each greater unit is an exponent of the former. Great events spread through systems of life like waves in an ocean. Reproduction spans all scales of being. Sometimes, even universes beget progeny. There are great forces at work within me. I am just a tool. The power that flows through me would have killed me if I hadn't expressed it. Even I don't fully understand what I've done. Ultimately, it just is."

As she reached within an arm's length of the kneeling figures, the green-eyed man turned toward her sharply, and his gaze threw her backward onto the stone floor of the chamber.

He laughed with a vile chortle that shook the room and then spoke. "Our people have been barren, so together, he and I sought after a method to produce more offspring to ease the suffering demise of our kind. We made great progress, but he wasn't satisfied. He kept pushing further and further into the sacred mysteries, leaving nothing but a profane conflagration in his wake. Do you think you are real? Think again. Your every thought has been wrought by him. Your illusion of free will is nothing more than that. You are a puppet, and he is the master. The affection you feel for him is a lie. It's nothing more than a behavior he designed in you so you would do his bidding."

She gasped for breath and struggled to rise to her knees. His words had affected her more than she could believe. And she experienced doubt about the Maker. As this happened, she saw the golden flesh on her hands turn a shade of mottled green. She felt weak—too weak to get up.

Her doubts continued to assail her, growing with every moment. She perceived a horrible truth in the green-eyed man's words.

If I'm just a creation, then what does my life mean?

But then the words of the Maker returned to her mind.

He said every system reproduces itself.

She felt herself steadying and strength returning to her. Looking down again at her hands, she saw her golden skin color had returned.

"You call it a corruption, but what my father has done is natural. Life begets life is what he said to me. Maybe this form of life isn't what you expected, but it is life nonetheless. And your small-mindedness can't contain it."

A feeling of peace returned as the Maker spoke. "She has passed your test. Now she will return to fulfill her destiny. Come, child, kneel beside me."

So many unanswered questions remained. And she had a feeling she was forgetting something crucial. She paused, trying to remember anything relevant. But the Maker beckoned for her to kneel. "So soon?" she asked.

"Time passes more quickly in the realms—you must return before your rival destroys all your allies."

She knelt beside the Maker and the feeling of contentment was so profound that she despaired at the thought of leaving him. "Father, I can't do it!" she cried.

He responded softly. "Child, I won't force you to do this. If you feel you must remain here, then we will both face our futures here, together. You make the choice."

Her heart leapt at his words, but then a feeling of discord grew within her, bringing with it a return of reason. Her father had said the green-eyed man would win if she didn't return. He'd also said he himself might be destroyed. Her course of action was clear, and the realization of that made her weep.

"Do not despair, my child. Though this parting pains us both, it is through this path that we will be reunited in peace."

She looked at him one final time as she knelt beside him. And then she felt herself rising out of her body. Turning, she saw the golden flesh behind her and saw that she was composed of light particles again. The room around her seemed to grow until it became unfathomably huge and she felt a falling sensation that startled her.
Chapter Fourteen

There was heat and light and a sense of being made and remade over and over again. This sensation lasted for a space of time that was indeterminate. Then there was a sense of shadow that approached and impermanence began to subside. There was a renewed sense of identity and form. Limbs appeared and suddenly an unpleasant heat started to permeate her being.

The shadows ahead seemed inviting, so the traveler pushed forward. Some memory returned, and she recalled a little about herself, about the kneeling figures and the misty chamber. Most strongly, she remembered her father and her mission to thwart a foe. But she couldn't remember who that foe was.

She felt an unfamiliar hardness underfoot and began to climb upward toward the shadow. The heat was becoming overbearing, and she hurried to escape it. With a great effort, she emerged from the now searing fire and rolled away from it across a rocky landing.

She lay in a cavern surrounded by rock and dominated by a huge lake of roiling Maker's Fire. Her golden limbs were luminous, and she was suddenly conscious of her nudity and the strangeness of her golden body.

The heat of the air was oppressive and continued to push in on her. With a start, she gasped for breath and felt a stirring in her body as her blood began to pump. Looking at her hand, the golden flesh was beginning to change. It was slowly becoming tan, and she startled when a rock she brushed against tore this new, weak flesh, causing it to bleed.

Rising to her feet, she scanned the caverns looking for a way to escape the heat. Her body was losing its luminescence, and the only light in the cavern was coming from the lake of fire.

She walked a short distance away from the fire, and it became increasingly hard to see.

But then there was a glimmer of light in the distance which soon grew to a glow. The outline of a figure was revealed in a pale, blue light. It was a stocky figure that was heavily muscled. It smiled at her and beckoned her forward.

She didn't hesitate as she moved in the direction of the apparition, using its light to guide her progress. As she neared it, she noticed a great wound on its bald head. The figure seemed familiar, yet she couldn't quite remember where she'd seen it.

The ghost smiled at her again and then began to walk into a rocky passage, beckoning her to follow. She was happy to oblige, as her skin had nearly lost all its golden hue, and even at a distance, the great heat of the Maker's Fire still urged her forward.

They walked together for what seemed like an hour or more, although her recollection of the concept of time had only recently returned. She had only regained a dim memory of the ghost, but the little she remembered was reassuring. She knew it had been an ally to her in the past.

Their walk was mostly uphill, and she began to feel tired and thirsty. An image of a face contorted by a sneering laugh and surrounded by blond, curly hair suddenly appeared in her mind.

My enemy. But who is he?

As she considered this, a wave of hot air confronted her from a vast, open space before her. The ghostly figure was suddenly nowhere to be found. The passage she was in led into a huge, cavernous, cylindrical space that was illuminated by a lake of the molten Maker's Fire hundreds of yards below. She peered out of the passage and looked up, noticing there was a slender stone walkway that began in front of her and circled the space, climbing gently upward. Far above her, she saw the ghost again, and it beckoned her forward.

She stepped onto the ledge and felt the great heat of the Maker's Fire below her. The light from below cast the walkway in shadow, making it challenging to avoid the irregularities in its surface. An odd rumbling sound repeated every few seconds. It seemed to originate from above, but then, in the next moment, the rock itself seemed to roar around her from every direction. Then the sound would stop—only to repeat the sequence again a few seconds later.

She began a long climb up the winding ledge. The path was littered with debris in spots so she had to be constantly vigilant lest she stumble and risk a fatal fall. All traces of her golden body were gone now, leaving her naked body composed solely of mortal flesh. Her feet were cut and bloodied by sharp rock, but she scarcely noticed, and the wounds healed themselves within minutes. She hadn't yet remembered that this was unusual for a mortal.

The monotony of the climb began to assail her concentration. Faces began to return to her as her mind wandered and old memories coalesced. Faces returned, but names still escaped her.

Heavy footfalls startled her out of a near-trance-like state. Something large was descending from the path above, toward her.

HEMLOCK! The voice she heard sounded like two great rocks grating together.

A dim recollection of the approaching entity fueled a feeling of caution, but she didn't heed the feeling and continued to climb. Soon, the figure above was revealed in more detail as it quickly closed the final yards between them. It was a large humanoid figure, but it was completely composed of rock instead of flesh. Human-like breasts marked it as female, although the wide features of the face did not much resemble human ones. But the face wore an unmistakable expression of anger.

The creature rose up as if to lash out at Hemlock, but then paused. A quizzical look replaced anger and it spoke.

OUT OF NOWHERE, MY CHANCE FOR VENGEANCE IS SUDDENLY BEFORE ME. BUT SOMETHING ISN'T RIGHT? HOW DID YOU GET HERE AND WHERE ARE YOUR CLOTHES?

"You wouldn't understand," said Hemlock. "How do I know you?"

The creature considered for a second. SO, YOU'VE LOST YOUR MEMORY? LET ME REFRESH IT. A FEW YEARS AGO, YOU CAME INTO MY HOME AND STOLE THE LIFE OF MY ONLY CHILD. I AM AMARANK. I ONCE TOLD YOU THAT IF YOU EVER HAD TO FACE ME AFTER I SWAM IN THE DEEP ROCK AND REPLENISHED MYSELF, THAT YOU'D FALL BEFORE ME. IT IS NOW TIME FOR YOU TO FACE THAT TEST!

Hemlock felt the creature's coarse stone hand enclose her comparatively fragile neck and her feet left the rocky path as the creature effortlessly and roughly lifted her off the ledge.

Hemlock felt no fear as she dangled from Amarank's massive hand. She remembered something of the quest that had led her to her first encounter with the creature, and the outcome of that encounter. She felt pity for the creature, knowing that it couldn't harm her. She instinctively knew she had become something primordial—and the currents of her fate could not be influenced by a lesser creature such as this any longer.

"Put me down," said Hemlock.

Amarank's expression quickly turned to one of horror. She put Hemlock down gently and then began to howl with rage.

HOW HAVE YOU COMMANDED ME WHEN EVERY PIECE OF ROCK WITHIN ME CRIES OUT FOR VENGEANCE?

"You were created by my father, and his blood runs through my veins," Hemlock said. Then she had a sudden insight. "Your fall from grace is not without hope for redemption. There may yet be a path for you in the upcoming struggle."

A PATH, YOU SAY? THAT GIVES ME AN IDEA. PERHAPS IF I CAN'T HARM YOU, I CAN STILL THWART YOU. THIS OLD PASSAGE CREATED BY MY BRETHREN IS FRAGILE.

Amarank stretched her arms upward with her fists balled, but then shook as if a seizure had taken hold.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME? shrieked the creature. I CAN'T EVEN BLOCK YOUR PATH? AM I RENDERED SO LOW THAT I CAN'T EVEN EXERCISE FREE WILL? IF SO, PLEASE COMMAND ME TO JUMP FROM THIS WALKWAY TO MY DOOM. I NO LONGER WISH TO LIVE IN THIS TERRIBLE PAIN.

Hemlock reached out and touched the earth creature and their minds connected.

"You once showed me a flashback that explained your story. Now I will show you mine," said Hemlock. She concentrated and remembered details of her meeting with her father in the realm beyond the stars. Her memories were incomplete, which surprised her. But she remembered enough to paint a picture of what had happened to her as Amarank observed, and the latter's eyes went wide with comprehension.

The earth creature was speechless after the realization of these momentous events, and Hemlock spoke to her soon after. "You feared that your life and role in the universe were pointless. So, you lost faith and gave in to your desire. Now I have shown you proof that none of this existence is pointless. Will you use this knowledge to purify yourself and regain your sacred role?"

It took Amarank several moments to respond. IT'S IMPOSSIBLE. MY BODY IS DIFFERENT NOW—WEAKER. THE SPELL JULIUS CAST ON ME CORRUPTED ME. I CAN'T WORK ON MY PILLAR ANYMORE.

"Have you tried?"

NO, BUT I KNOW THE EFFORT WOULD QUICKLY KILL ME. IS THAT WHAT I'M MEANT TO DO? IS THAT A NOBLE DEATH FOR THE LIKES OF ME?

Hemlock felt unsure for the first time since she'd returned to the world.

"No, that doesn't feel right. Perhaps you must wait until you see a path that feels right to you. Don't squander your life. That isn't my father's way."

Amarank nodded solemnly. PERHAPS THAT'S MY PENANCE. WAITING. ALRIGHT, I WILL WAIT UNTIL A PATH PRESENTS ITSELF. I WISH YOU LUCK, HEMLOCK, BECAUSE YOU ARE YOUR FATHER'S DAUGHTER. BUT I STILL HATE YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ME. I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THAT.

"Even that may come in time—but I acknowledge your anger. I am not completely the same as when I left. I think there are things I've done that I would do differently now. But those actions cannot be undone. Much as you are, I am a creature that is faced with decisions that can only influence the future. What I remember of your child is that things ended the way he thought best. So, I offer you my condolences and my regret for being involved in the cause of your sorrow. More than that, I cannot offer."

Amarank nodded. Hemlock returned the nod and resumed her climb up the spiraling walkway. When she looked up, it seemed unending as it loomed above her.

The ghostly figure appeared again from time to time as if to stimulate her senses and ensure that she retained the proper focus to continue her climb.

As she climbed, she noticed that the periodic rumbling sounds were getting more intense. And the sharp grating sound that preceded the rumbling from the entire cavernous space seemed to be getting closer. As she looked up, a roof over the chamber became visible far above her.

After another hour of climbing, the grating sound was becoming almost unbearably loud, and the roof above visibly extended over a larger space that bordered the chasm that she would soon reach the top of. Something was happening in this larger chamber to generate the din, but it was out of sight.

But another few minutes of climbing revealed a new clue to the origin of the great noise. The top edge of the chasm was coming into view. Beyond it, distant walls of a larger chamber were revealed. She saw three colossal pillars of rock arrayed around the edges of the chasm she was climbing out of. The pillars were spaced evenly in a radial pattern around the area. Their upper portions cast shadows on the distant walls of the larger space, which was lit with a dull red glow. The walls were intricately detailed with interlocking spirals that reminded her of the inside of a chambered shellfish. She had the impression that the groaning sound came from the pillars. And the pillars seemed to bulge and then return to shape as the blast of sound was emitted. The overall character of the sound and motion made Hemlock feel like she had entered the heart of some great beast made of solid stone.

Hemlock remembered enough lore from her past to guess what she was looking at.

This is my father's handiwork. Surely this can be nothing less than the Seven Pillars of Wisdom that support the foundations of the City.

She climbed out of the circular chasm without hesitation. She was in the center of a great hall with a smooth floor and a roof far above. Turning, she confirmed that there were seven pillars arrayed at equal spaces around the huge, circular opening she had emerged from.

She inspected the pillars. As they undulated and emitted a shriek of rock grating on rock, the pillars themselves moved in a way that suggested sinew and even limbs. She crossed the spacious chamber and approached one of the pillars to get a closer look. A hulking, crouched figure of rock was embedded in the pillar. The grating sound came when the stone figure pushed downward, driving down the large column of rock below it through a gaping hole in the floor. At the same time, the creature seemed to flow upward through the rock and pulled itself higher, drawing its huge legs back up into a crouching position. In this way, new rock was continually drawn from above and driven downward.

I wonder if these creatures ever tire of supporting the City? Amarank was already tempted away from her duty. If another were to fail, would the entire City fall into the fire and be obliterated?

She noticed that the figure in the rock above her was looking at her. She almost tried to speak to it, but something about the creature's demeanor suggested a devotion to its work above all else. She felt like an intruder. Backing away, she noticed the other pillars. Five of them looked the same as the one she was close to.

But one of the pillars was different. Its stone had a reddish hue as compared to normal granite, and its glow was the source of the dim light in the room. Unlike the others, it did not groan and quiver as each wave of elemental force drove its granite downward into the all-consuming conflagration far below. Hemlock approached the pillar. As she did, an inexplicable feeling of dread came over her. The red pillar did not move but seemed to pulsate with the exertion of the stone men in the surrounding pillars. Reaching the rock, she touched it, and though it burned her flesh, she did not recoil. Beyond and in spite of the pain, there was something familiar about the sensation she felt as she touched it, and the feeling of dread was gone. She removed her hand and took little notice of the way the blisters and burns rapidly healed.

As she walked around to the other side of the pillar, she had a feeling she knew what she would see.

A figure was rendered in the red-hued pillar as if living flesh had been covered by molten lava, which had then dried into solid rock. It was man-sized and suspended high above Hemlock at the midpoint of the pillar as she looked up to it. The stone visage depicted a man of middle age—though not yet past his prime. The face was long with a prominent nose and a clear countenance. The mouth was full and set upon a chin that suggested strength without seeming brutish.

So, this is where it ended. This was the cost of the deceit of the Imperator and the sin of Amarank.

She felt sure this was the tomb of her father, known as the Red Mage and the creator of the City.

Hemlock's magical sense, heretofore almost blinded by the intensity of the magic in the chamber, suddenly registered something surprising. Imperial runes of staggering power surrounded the red pillar. They swirled and seemed to emanate from the pillar itself while at the same time bringing tremendous magical force back toward the pillar. The impression left on Hemlock was unmistakable. It had been a trap, and it had been sprung on her father.

Could father still be alive in there?

Her dream-like recollection of the other existence she had recently had suggested against such a possibility. Yet, a tantalizing sliver of hope remained as she looked into her father's unseeing eyes.

A realization pushed its way through the fog in her mind. She remembered the Imperator and his Imperial magic. She remembered how it tainted the natural, wild magic of the City. And she remembered that DuLoc employed it.

This pillar must be the source of the Imperial magic!

She leaned backward as if absorbing the significance of the idea. Using her magical senses, she re-appraised the pillar and the runes with a different focus.

Could I destroy it? And if I did, would DuLoc lose his power?

Her second sight revealed the concentric arcs of the Imperial runes that stretched sinuously like curved blades around the pillar. Something about their design penetrated her deep memory. A memory of a mocking laugh bubbled out of that dark, mental abyss. It made her shudder.

She didn't remember much about that laugh, but the malevolence was still palpable—and it was present in the runes. She could sense that runic tendrils had penetrated the very core of the pillar and become a part of it. Destroying the runes would mean destroying the pillar, destroying the last vestige of her father, and possibly the entire City.

She shook her head. _No, it's not meant to be. Not yet._

She sat in front of the red pillar for some time, reflecting on what significance it might have to her quest and basking in the benevolence that seemed to emanate from it despite the taint of Imperial magic. After a time, she felt ready to resume her trek to the surface.

Looking around, she saw the familiar ghostly figure far across the wide expanse of the chamber. She followed it, reverently departing from one of the great wonders of the City.

Thus began another several hours of travel, and this was far more difficult. The way the ghost led her was not made for people to travel. She guessed that no passages had been hewn to link to the secret bowels of the City for fear that the secret work of the stone giants would be interrupted. She was forced to crawl over dark shelves of rock that barely allowed her to pass, aided only by the ghost-light of the friendly apparition. At several points, she had to make leaps across gorges and perform other physical feats that would have proven fatal to one of lesser ability.

Eventually, she emerged into the passages near the ancient lower chambers containing the observatory Julius had built. The observatory reminded her of her power of other-sight which she used to scan the many planes of existence that echoed out from the City. She invoked the power for the first time since her return.

She saw that all the principal personages visible to her in this unique way were present in the plane of the City. She could detect DuLoc, Falignus, and Merit, and assumed this meant that they all lived. She was unable to tell more about them. She could also see the remaining Wands of the Imperator. Three remained on a distant world, tethered to her father's original Wizard Tower. She perceived that this tower would return to its natural position at the center of Hemisphere Lake if untethered.

That will have to be done once I set things right and defeat my enemy. DuLoc!

The rest of the Wands were still on the City plane. This no longer concerned her much, for she perceived their limited power compared to the power she and DuLoc wielded. The Imperator's robe, crown, and sword were also revealed on the City plane.

I hope Falignus isn't searching for them.

She felt some relief in the knowledge that Falignus and Merit were still alive. She had not doubted that they were, but the confirmation was still comforting.

The apparition of the bald man appeared to her a final time. It bowed low and she did the same, grateful for its assistance.

"You've helped me a great deal," she said to it, suddenly remembering where she had seen it before. It had helped her and a warrior friend against a hostile ghost.

"You should rest now," she continued.

The kindly expression on the ghost's face slowly turned stern. It shook its head back and forth.

"You must be suffering terribly by remaining here. You should follow your destiny and begin your next chapter. Rest, my friend."

In response, the ghost looked at her with a fierce intensity. A scene appeared in her mind unbidden. A home was aflame, and within it, the bodies of a woman and children had been left to burn. Then the scene changed, and she heard the wails of the dying. A familiar voice accompanying the pain of a death blow—DuLoc's face!

The pain and shock of the transferred memory caused her to lose her balance. The ghost appeared over her with a sorrowful look. It bowed low to her.

"It's alright. I understand now. You want revenge on DuLoc. I will be the instrument of your vengeance. Rest assured in that. Rest."

The ghost simply dissipated. She hoped it had taken her advice.
Chapter Fifteen

Hemlock reached the tunnels close to the Wizard Tower. Suddenly, her return to the City was no longer an abstract future event, but something that was imminent.

I need to think about this. I have to find help. I need to find my friends, get clothes, and find out what has happened since I left. There are so many details, yet I feel I should just push forward. I realize now that this battle with DuLoc need not concern any armies. It can be decided by single combat. But what if DuLoc attacks me with an army? Would I need an army to defend myself? Or would I have to slaughter all those people unnecessarily?

And then a name came to her.

I need to find Tored! I need his advice.

But another unwanted memory returned―a memory of Tored being horribly wounded and his spirit being transferred into a mechanical automaton like Merit.

DuLoc damned him to live out his days in torture.

Her hands clenched into fists, her eyes widened in their sockets, and her nose flared. She felt the first strong emotion since her return.

I am going to kill DuLoc.

She started to make for the lower door of the Wizard Tower, intent on fighting her way to DuLoc regardless of the risk or collateral damage. But then she heard footfalls behind her. She paused and hid in a shadowy recess of rock as she awaited the source of the noises. It sounded like three people to her sensitive ears.

Soon, they came into view. It was three figures as she had predicted. Two carried torches and the third walked with a staff glowing with a light enchantment. There was a small man who carried himself like a warrior and an older man who didn't. Both men had the blue chalked faces and loose clothing characteristic of Tanna Varrans. The third figure with the staff was different, and Hemlock remembered his name as soon as she saw his unique reptilian features.

Gwineval was addressing the other men in his unique, hissing voice. And what struck Hemlock as odd was that she was certain he was lying to them.

"Yes, yes, the others are ahead just a bit," said Gwineval as they walked.

"And you're sure we won't be detected down here. It seems dangerously close to the Wizard Tower," said the smaller man. Hemlock recognized the voice, but it took a moment to reconcile with the blue facial chalk.

That's Otticus.

The older man spoke then. "We will use a low power magic to conceal ourselves. If we descend to the ancient passages, it will be easier. Is that what you have in mind, Gwineval?"

Surely that's Renevos. But he's shaved his beard off.

Hemlock started to step forward as they passed but then stepped back into the shadows out of modesty.

"Otticus, please toss me your cloak," Hemlock said loudly.

All three men turned in alarm which quickly turned to shock as they recognized Hemlock's voice and perceived her form in the shadows.

Gwineval took a step backward, stumbled on a rock, and dropped his glowing staff which clattered to the floor of the passage.

Otticus was the first to compose himself. "Hemlock!" he shouted and rushed forward only to be confronted by her unclothed form. He stood rooted as Renevos stepped past him and tossed his cloak to Hemlock.

Hemlock smiled at Otticus as she covered herself.

"Renevos, your beard," she said.

"Hemlock! How can this be? I watched you die," cried Otticus, suddenly bursting into tears.

"I did die," said Hemlock. "But I have been reborn to complete my destiny to kill DuLoc."

"This is a boon beyond our wildest hopes," said Renevos. "I daresay, I did harbor some curiosity about what your death might mean given your unique lineage. But I never allowed myself to believe you might actually return."

Otticus was still sobbing. "All of our struggles haven't been in vain, then."

Hemlock noticed Gwineval looking furtively around him and decided to address him. "Gwineval, what's wrong? Aren't you happy to see me?"

Gwineval didn't try to conceal the wonder and confusion he was evidently grappling with. "This is impossible," he murmured.

The joy of the reunion was short lived as the bitterness about the fate of Tored returned with a sting.

"Where is Falignus? And what about Merit?" she asked.

Hemlock noticed Gwineval stiffen. "We need to escape from here. Now," he shouted.

"What are you talking about?" asked Renevos.

"It's a trap. I was leading you into a trap. I thought it was best for the City. I... I didn't understand. Hurry, follow me. There's no time," he shouted, beginning to run back toward the subterranean exit to the garden near Hemisphere Lake.

Otticus and Renevos looked puzzled, but they began to move as Hemlock urged them forward. Hemlock found their speed well below hers. But she cared about them and wanted to know they were safe before she confronted DuLoc. She thought about Falignus as she ran. She had remembered his name, and memories of her love for him came back to her. Her feelings were different now. She didn't feel the passion for him that she had once felt. But a sense of caring and loyalty to him was still present. He was like a family member to her despite everything that had happened between them. Now that Tored was gone―or mostly gone―he was the only person in the City she felt that way about.

"Where is Falignus?" she asked again.

Gwineval was closest to her, and she could tell by the look on his face that she might not like the answer he was about to give.

Gwineval struggled to enunciate as he ran. "After we rescued him from the battle with DuLoc... He ran off, and we couldn't find him. He's gone bestial, I think. There have been a rash of murders in the City that fit his profile. DuLoc has been looking for him in addition to the wizards and other allies."

They turned a corner and saw shimmering blue magical shields erected across their path. Behind the shields were two spell casters flanked by two First Circle battle mages.

Hemlock continued to run at full speed.

"Hemlock!" cried Renevos in warning, but she just accelerated.

As she met the shield, she felt a substantial impact that halted her momentum, but at the same time, there was a great flash and a burst of dissipated magical energy exploded away from her toward the opposing wizards. They were all knocked from their feet, and the enemy spell casters were smoldering as if burned by the energy. The combat mages got to their knees, but Hemlock paused and menaced them as the others ran by her, stumbling in their surprise at the ease of their passage.

"Go back to the Tower unless you wish to throw your lives away," shouted Hemlock. "Tell your master I have returned and will seek him out."

The First Circle wizards stepped backward, and Hemlock deemed them sufficiently cowed before running to catch up with the others.

They met no other opposition as they moved through the passages and tunnels, though they heard shouts behind them from time to time. Renevos paused to cast a magical barrier, which Gwineval reinforced with his own spells. After that, the sounds behind them ceased.

"Gwineval, you were going to betray us?" Otticus asked incredulously.

Gwineval gave a composed answer. "How was I to know Hemlock would return? DuLoc has been clearly in control and your resistance seemed pointless and destined to only cost more innocent lives."

"He would have tortured and killed us," shouted Renevos.

"Nonsense. He didn't do that to me when he captured me," said Gwineval.

Hemlock shook her head. She was remembering more and more details about her previous life with every passing minute. Being in the company of her old comrades seemed to be accelerating the process.

"He got a good read on you, Gwineval. He could tell that it would be easier to win you over to his cause than to extract information from you forcibly. He's a skilled liar," she said.

"I don't believe it. He's not the monster you make him out to be," said Gwineval defiantly.

"Is that right? We should ask Tored about that? He was tortured to the point of death and then his soul was imprisoned in a mechanical gnome like Merit. Is that not the act of a monster?" Hemlock asked.

"What!" cried Otticus, tearing up again. Hemlock grabbed him hard by the arm to prevent him from stopping.

Gwineval began to stutter but finally managed to ask a question. "You saw this with your own eyes?"

"Yes," said Hemlock.

Otticus lunged for Gwineval. "I should kill you," he shouted. Hemlock still held his arm and pulled him away, but they both fell over one another.

Gwineval retreated as Renevos stepped between the lizard man and the two prone figures.

"I saw the whole thing. DuLoc, being sadistic, wanted me to witness it," said Hemlock.

"When I came to rescue you, I found Tored's body. And I saw the automaton there, but I didn't understand what had happened. Where is that automaton?" cried Otticus, pointing to Gwineval as he shouted the final question.

"He... He must... Tored, I mean... He must be unit number six if this is true. DuLoc seemed quite fond of that automaton. I never understood why," said Gwineval.

"There will be time to resolve this once we get to safety. Come, we must continue," said Renevos.

They ran for several more minutes until they reached the portal leading to the arboretum. They approached cautiously, but it was unguarded. They emerged into the floral displays and everything was quiet. A blue sky was overhead and lazy clouds punctuated it.

"Call Penelope," said Otticus.

"We're early," said Renevos. "Hopefully, she will be in range."

"I'll do it," said Hemlock.

Penelope, it's me, Hemlock. We need you at Hemisphere Lake right away.

MY HEART IS GLAD AT YOUR RETURN. I MUST HEAR MORE ABOUT IT. I WILL COME.

Renevos was busy casting an invisibility spell on Otticus while Gwineval warded the door against possible pursuit. Just as he completed the spell, he detected a strong counter spell.

"They're here," he said.

Hemlock heard a voice behind her. "I knew it was too good to be true!"

She turned to see DuLoc standing mere feet away from her. His blue waistcoat was impeccably clean, and his well-manicured hair and powdered face seemed more bizarre up close. But his body shimmered gently, which revealed that he was projecting himself from a distance rather than being physically present.

"Your day of reckoning is fast approaching. Meet me at our last battlefield in two days' time. I will kill you then," she said.

DuLoc continued to speak as if ignoring Hemlock's challenge. "I thought maybe I'd be rid of you in time to focus on the Chaos Dragon uninterrupted, but here you are again."

Hemlock reeled as she realized the Chaos Dragon—the black dragon that she'd seen in visions since her early uses of her powers—was the thing she had forgotten to discuss with her father. She realized this must be the plan the Green-Eyed Man, who she deemed must have been the Imperator, had bragged about.

Great, so first I have to deal with DuLoc and then this Chaos Dragon, too?

She returned her attention to DuLoc. "What have you learned about the Chaos Dragon?"

"Oh, are we sharing now?" asked DuLoc. "Maybe I'll tell you if you tell me the whereabouts of the one known as Merit."

Hemlock remembered the two figures kneeling in meditation with her father and the Imperator. Her father had said one was a friend.

Of course, that's why DuLoc is interested in Merit! He's from beyond the worlds like we are. That's why Merit can use magic.

"I have no idea, and if I did, I would never tell you. But you've revealed a lot to me with that question," she said.

"Aha! And you've revealed a lot to me with that comment. So, you've stepped outside of the worlds and seen the higher realm? That means you understand the scope of your powers," said DuLoc.

Hemlock didn't see a point in trying to conceal what she'd inadvertently revealed. Instead, she felt defiant. "If you're so confident in your powers, why are you just projecting yourself?"

"I am very confident. But I agree that there's no longer a need for the pretense of armies or to risk the lives of these lesser creatures. I will meet you on the field at dawn in a days' time. In that time, think about things a bit. I appreciate your father's creation, and I want to see it grow and prosper. But it needs to be governed more effectively than through the loose structure he designed. It shouldn't be a place where chaos rules. We could govern it together, Hemlock. We can slay the Chaos Dragon together. Once we reorder the City, your father will see the wisdom in the change. Then you can be with him in safety and peace."

Hemlock shook her head. "My father's soul is woven into every part of the City. The changes you want would kill him at worst and pervert his spirit at best. I won't be a part of that. And you've already shown me your true nature when you..." She paused, not wanting to remind DuLoc about Tored, but again, it was too late.

"Ah, your beloved companion is here with me in the Tower. Number six is what we call him now. He waits on me personally and is a faithful, if simple, servant."

"None of it matters. I am going to kill you."

A sudden stirring in the air signaled the approach of Penelope. She was invisible thanks to an earlier spell cast by Renevos.

Hemlock turned away from DuLoc. "She can take three." As she said that, she saw that Gwineval had conjured scaly wings for himself. Next, he faded from view as an invisibility spell took hold. She mounted Penelope with Otticus and Renevos, and together, the four of them took flight.

As they climbed, Hemlock looked behind her and saw the projection of DuLoc still standing there with an amused look on his face.

I can't wait to see fear in those eyes.

...

At the urging of Otticus, they all flew toward the strange peak in the Eastern Mountains where the undead wizards known as Seekers had been created.

Hemlock thought it was an odd place to take refuge but couldn't dispute the isolation and defensive benefits of the position.

"And you're sure the Seekers are destroyed?" she asked as they descended toward the opening in the peak. It looked like part of the rock had been sliced away, leaving a horizontal slot that cut through the entire mountain. The opening was braced by a series of arched columns.

"There was some kind of clockwork apparatus in a pit when I was first here. That's gone now, and the Imperator's artifacts are sitting in the pit. The Seekers are gone because the quest that Zaringer gave them when he created them was fulfilled."

"Wait, the Imperator's artifacts are just sitting there in the pit?" asked Hemlock.

"Yes. I didn't know what else to do with them. If you are worried about Falignus, I don't think he knows about this place."

"I am worried about it, but I think I can do something about it."

Penelope landed in a clearing beside the mountain, forcing them to climb a winding trail to the lair. Once they reached it, they crossed the large, echoing chamber toward a depression in the center where the pit containing the artifacts was located. Hemlock saw Merit standing near the pit as they approached.

She ran up to the small figure and hugged him. A cog on the back of his head whirred in excitement and there was a hiss as he released steam. Hemlock's wrist was cut by the cog as she grasped her diminutive friend, but she scarcely noticed.

"Merit! You escaped the battle and are safe."

"I am Miss Hemlock. But how... Have you come back from the dead?" asked Merit simply.

"Sort of. I'm happy to see you again."

Merit's facial gears formed into a frown. "I shouldn't be alive, Miss Hemlock. I fled the battle with Falignus and left you all behind. Some of you...didn't make it."

Hemlock felt her eyes moisten at the allusion to Tored. Hemlock's eyes fell on Gwineval and she realized someone was missing. "Where's Miara?" she asked.

Gwineval tensed visibly. "She was killed at the end of the battle," he managed.

"By whom? DuLoc?" asked Hemlock.

"No, by Jalis. I killed him, Hemlock. And the truth is, it didn't make things any better. She's still gone."

"I... I'm sorry, Gwineval. I know she meant the world to you."

"She did," he replied, turning to compose himself.

"Merit, I need to talk to you. In private," Hemlock said softly.

She gestured to him and together they walked to the edge of the space near some of the outer pillars. The talk of the others carried in the borderless space, so they spoke softly to one another.

"You were close to the mark when you said that I came back from the dead," said Hemlock.

"How is that possible, Miss Hemlock?"

"You know, Merit, it's hard to explain. But I will try because part of it kind of involves you." Hemlock explained everything she remembered about her strange experience, leaving out the identity of the two kneeling figures that hadn't spoken to her.

Merit considered everything she said, and she could see his gears turning furiously as he considered the implications of it all.

"But how does this relate to me?" he finally asked.

"Merit, the two people who spoke to me in that other place were the Maker and the Imperator. Have you thought about who the other two who didn't speak might be?"

"Well, I think one of them must be DuLoc. I'm not sure who the other one might be."

"Merit, it was you."

A torrent of steam escaped from him and his small limbs stuck out straight as if he was taken by sudden rigor mortis.

Hemlock rushed to his side, trying to ease his surprise, soon relaxed and regained his sensibilities.

"Merit, you're gifted with special powers like DuLoc and me," she continued. "Like us, you come from beyond the stars. You must have been put into this body by the Imperator to nullify your power."

"If that's true, then that must mean..." He paused, and the steam began again. He spoke just as Hemlock was becoming concerned that he might have become paralyzed again. "Does that mean I was friends with the Imperator? Was I evil before he did this to me?"

Hemlock thought about his words. "I suppose it's possible, but it doesn't feel right to me. I suspect you were similar to how you are now, just more powerful. I bet you were an ally of my father and the Imperator had to get you out of the way, so you didn't interfere with his plans."

"I like that idea better than me being evil. But why not just kill me instead of doing this to me?"

"People like the Imperator and DuLoc take pleasure in the suffering of others. That's the only answer I can give you. They are deranged."

"Hemlock, I've been thinking about an idea since you...went away. I was scared to try it before tonight, but now I feel like it's the right choice."

"Oh? What's the idea?"

"When you, Tored, and Falignus dove into Hemisphere Lake, you recovered a magical suit of armor. Cassandra took it onto her boat when it surfaced. I don't know why it floated, but it did. Anyway, when I learned of it, I travelled to the battlefield and found the ruins of her boat."

Hemlock had a sinking feeling. "Was Cassandra killed in the battle?"

"Yes, Miss Hemlock. I'm sorry to say she was."

So much death...

Merit continued after a respectful moment of silence. "I became obsessed with this armor after I learned from Renevos that the spirit of Julius had inhabited it. If I could transfer my consciousness from this body to that one, I think my true powers would be revealed. If Julius could use magic the way he did and live for all those years in that armor, it must be powerful. And he left it willingly. It is completely intact."

If Merit could regain his powers, then we could combine against DuLoc.

But, looking at Merit, Hemlock began to have doubts.

Merit isn't a fighter. It would be cruel to ask him to fight DuLoc. But maybe he could help control the City while DuLoc and I fight. And if I were to lose, perhaps Merit could resist a weakened DuLoc. Still, the process of transferring to the armor might kill him. It's not worth the risk.

"Merit, I share your curiosity, but think about the risk. I don't think it's a good idea."

"If I can help my friends and the City, then it's worth the risk. I'm not doing anyone any good just waiting here while these great events unfold. I've had the armor brought here, Hemlock." He pointed across the wide space of the rocky chamber to a suit of armor resting against an inner column. It had rusted a little but otherwise looked fully intact.

"I don't know about this, Merit. Be cautious," said Hemlock.

"Miss Hemlock, I am convinced this is my time to act," said Merit. With that, he began walking across the room toward the armor.

Hemlock followed him. "Do you know how to transfer yourself?"

"I had been researching it. I've spoken with Renevos, and he believes he can strengthen the effect by using elements of one of his teleport spells," said Merit.

Hemlock stared at the armor as it rested against the column. It had a forlorn appearance. She tried to imagine her friend taking that physical form, and it offended her sensibilities. She had just told Merit that he was special like she was, but had she really come to terms with that?

I still see him as a meek creature inside that small, fragile body. I need to start thinking of him as he could be. Maybe he's right about this.

Renevos, seeming to sense that the moment for Merit's attempt had arrived, took his place beside Merit. "Are you ready for this, my friend?"

"Yes, sir," Merit said weakly. Then, his brass chest drew up and his chin thrust forward. "Yes, Renevos," he said, looking the old man in the eye.

Hemlock was still having a hard time adjusting to Renevos without his beard. The remnants of the blue chalk he had employed as a disguise only made his appearance seem stranger.

A beard is a reassuring thing for a wizard to have. I hope his power wasn't woven into it.

She pried her mind away from frivolous thoughts as Merit stood tall and faced Julius' armor. Everyone was silent as he began to concentrate. Hemlock felt an electric quality fill the air as a dull glowing began inside the armor. Renevos outstretched his arms and his muscles tensed. Tendrils of power projected from his fingertips. The quivering of his tensed muscles produced a harmonic frequency that was greatly amplifying the power of the soul projection Merit was concentrating on. A slender cord of light extended from Merit's mechanical body to the suit of armor. Realizing she had never perceived magic with this level of fidelity, she watched, entranced, as the process unfolded.

She could tell the spell was reaching a crescendo. Beads of sweat poured down Renevos' brow. Otticus took a step toward the old man, but Gwineval restrained him.

Without warning, Renevos turned toward the mechanical body and a bolt of searing lightning arced from his fingertips and stuck the brass machine, sending it smashing to the stone floor. It careened over the ground in a destructive tumble that left it in a smoldering ruin some fifty yards away.

"What in the Maker!" screamed Hemlock as she reflexively raised her hands to the sides of her head.

Renevos fell to his knees and the light inside the armor snuffed out.

Otticus knelt beside Renevos, and Hemlock and Gwineval cautiously advanced toward the dusty armor.

Hemlock, to her great relief, immediately sensed a presence inside it.

"Something is in there," she said.

Gwineval nodded hopefully.

"Merit?"

There was a groan of metal on metal as the helm turned toward them.

He replied with a voice in their mind that had a deep, harsh timbre that was totally incongruous with Merit's quirky, old voice.

" _Yes, it's me."_

Hemlock exchanged a look of surprise with Gwineval.

"Merit, do you feel alright? Can you move?" asked Hemlock.

In response, the armor rose to a standing position. The helmet looked at one arm as it extended and the fingers on the mailed gauntlet extended and then clenched into a fist repeatedly. This same motion was then repeated with the other arm.

Then the mailed figure took hesitant steps forward. The strides were long but tentative. Stopping, the armor turned and strode back to the column with more assurance. It turned back toward them.

" _I am well. I can move quite well_ _―_ _much faster than in my old body. Best of all, the accursed orders that the wizards embedded in my old mind are gone. I am free!"_

Renevos smiled and approached Merit as if to hug him, then drew up awkwardly as he seemed unsure how to approach the new bulk of his friend.

"Congratulations, Merit! We did it," he said, holding up his hands.

" _I am forever in your debt, Renevos,"_ replied the baritone voice in their minds.

Renevos chucked nervously. "That voice is going to take some getting used to, my friend."

They all laughed.

" _It doesn't fit me. I will have to research and see if it can be changed."_

"No, my boy. Is it still proper to call you that? My feeling is you shouldn't meddle with the design of this magic. But, then again, what do I know about anything anymore when the formerly dead walk among us," said Renevos.

"I think Renevos is right. That voice may be an aid in the coming unrest. People won't ignore you anymore, Merit. You can be sure of that," said Hemlock, looking up to the empty space in the helmet where the eyes would have been.

" _That is good, Miss Hemlock."_

Gwineval hissed with gentle laughter. "At least we can be sure it's still him."

Hemlock smiled at Gwineval but noticed Otticus giving the wizard a dark look.

Hemlock sensed an opportunity.

"Gwineval, can you explain again what exactly you were about to do back there in the caves?" she said.

The smile faded from Gwineval's face.

"After the battle, Jalis sent agents to the Wizard Tower and had infiltrated it by the time we retreated there. A floor to floor battle was raging when DuLoc arrived. He convinced me that the fight to defend the tower was pointless. I hit him with a fire blast, and he shrugged it off like nothing. I knew he was right―Hemlock had fallen, Tored had fallen, and Falignus was half dead. If we continued to resist, we were just going to die pointlessly. I surrendered the Tower. But Miara wouldn't accept surrender. She foolishly tried to strike DuLoc down as he passed. And he... He turned and killed her. It was all over in an instant, and I was knocked out and put into a cell until it was clear I was calm. I thought about killing myself, but then I realized I could still serve one purpose. I could prevent others from needlessly sacrificing themselves like Miara did. So, when Renevos contacted me, I set up the meeting with plans to have them captured. DuLoc assured me neither of you would be harmed."

"You're a stinking traitor is what you are," shouted Otticus.

Gwineval winced as the words were said but didn't respond.

Otticus persisted. "Miara did her duty. You should be ashamed to still be alive, you coward."

Gwineval's eyes bulged at the mention of Miara. "Watch yourself, boy!"

Hemlock walked between the two of them. "Hold on. Let's not aid DuLoc by fighting amongst ourselves." She turned to Gwineval. "Gwineval, I agree with Otticus in some respects. I think you used poor judgement in working with DuLoc. He cannot be trusted. You will learn that eventually."

"But I had no reason to expect anything other than we had just suffered a decisive and final defeat," said Gwineval.

"I can see that. But you've never been fully behind me. You've often been at odds with me and not listened to my advice. You wanted to keep the Wands we recovered. And you've wanted to use Imperial magic. There is part of me that's inclined not to trust you, Gwineval," said Hemlock.

Otticus nodded while Renevos remained still and kept his thoughts to himself.

Hemlock looked at Gwineval. "The last time this happened, I said I wouldn't force you to choose. Now I am going to. You have two choices. You can either follow me from this point out and never question me or you can leave here and return to the City. But know that the next time we meet, you will be treated as an enemy."

" _Miss Hemlock, there has to be another way," said Merit._

"No, Merit, I'm afraid there's not. But I will add this. This time, should I fall against DuLoc, I will release everyone from my service. If that should happen, the doom of the world would be upon you all. But you need not trouble yourselves with maintaining any loyalties in that case."

She turned to Gwineval. "Knowing this, do you pledge your unwavering loyalty to me, Gwineval?"

The wizard's tongue darted back and forth in his mouth. Finally, he responded. "Yes."

"Remember, I will hold you to this. You are honor-bound," she said. She turned to Otticus and Renevos. "Do you accept his pledge and agree to forgive him for betraying you?"

Otticus looked away. "Look at me!" she said, and he did.

"I can't afford to worry about petty squabbles going on behind my back. I need to know this matter is resolved between you. Do you agree to forgive him and be honor-bound to treat him as an ally?"

"Yes," said Renevos. After a few moments, Otticus responded in kind.

"Good. That's resolved."

She thought about her next steps.

The Chaos Dragon will still have to be dealt with.

"We need to find Falignus," she said.

"Why? He's just a monster now," said Otticus.

Renevos shook his head disapprovingly.

"There is rumor of him in the City, but that's all we have to go on," said Renevos.

Hemlock walked back toward the pit. Looking down, she beheld the shimmering, golden, Imperial artifacts at the bottom. They rested in disorder amongst a pile of bones that Hemlock assumed were those of the Seekers.

"First, we need to destroy these," she said.

"It would take the Maker's Fire," said Gwineval. "We'd have to return to the City and enter the caves under the Wizard Tower. That would be right under DuLoc's nose."

Hemlock instinctively knew there was another way.

"When I returned, I was reborn in fire. The Maker's Fire is now a part of me," she said.

She focused her mind and imagined the lake of fire that the City floated on. She visualized that fire reaching up through the intervening rock and filling the pit below them, consuming the artifacts.

As she concentrated, there was a vibration in the floor. Soon, it grew to a tremor and then a rumbling. Rock and debris began to fall from the ceiling above them.

"Hemlock, stop! You'll collapse the entire mountain on us!" hissed Gwineval. The others looked on with rapt intensity.

Soon, the mountain did shudder around them and an explosion of bright light burst into the space as a wide column of lava shot out of the pit.

There were shouts as they all jumped to escape the splashes of molten rock that would incinerate them on touch. Fortunately, the fire column receded quickly as the explosion broke Hemlock's concentration. The rumbling became a vibration and then the mountain rested again.

Everyone rose and seemed to be all right.

"Merit, are you okay?" Hemlock asked as he rose again to his full height.

" _Yes, my new body is very strong."_

She walked up and peered into the pit. It was now an impossibly deep shaft with a pinpoint of fiery red visible far, far below.

"I'd avoid falling in that if I were you," she said to no one in particular.
Chapter Sixteen

The group relaxed on the stone floor of the mountain chamber to discuss their next move. Sitting on the bare stone was uncomfortable, but Hemlock found that it made her more focused. Otticus, Gwineval, and Renevos sat loosely in a circle while Merit, his new body shining after an impromptu cleaning by Otticus, remained standing.

"I've been thinking about what DuLoc did back there," began Hemlock, "or, more precisely, what he didn't do. Why didn't he attack me?"

The group remained silent. Hemlock saw Gwineval's eyes narrow and his forehead furrowed a bit despite being covered in scales. Renevos was stroking his chin as if searching for his non-existent beard. Otticus simply looked back at Hemlock. Merit no longer had facial expressions, so it was impossible to gain any insight into his reaction.

"He didn't attack because he's still vulnerable. That's the good news. But the bad news is that he may not be vulnerable to us. He could just be vulnerable to something else," she continued.

Hemlock described the little she knew about the Chaos Dragon. She mentioned that it had appeared in visions to her when she'd use her powers, that it had apparently awakened and was heading toward the City, and that the strange child of the Earth Elemental had hinted to her that she'd need an ally from the Imperator's blood line to defeat it.

"This is too much!" said Otticus. "DuLoc is more than enough for us to handle, and now we have to deal with this Chaos Dragon, too? And we have to track down Falignus again—and tame him somehow?"

"I know it's daunting. But we can do it," said Hemlock. "If DuLoc still fears me or needs me...or some combination of the two, then we can use that to our advantage."

"Why did he ask about Merit?" said Gwineval, eyeing her intently.

"I think you may all have suspected—but Merit is more than he seems. He's a spirit from the world of my father like DuLoc. His power has been limited somehow by his frail body, but DuLoc understands his potential." Hemlock looked at Merit as she continued. "Who knows what effect this new body will have on him."

" _I feel the power, Miss Hemlock_. _I don't doubt that I can access it now,_ " said Merit.

After a pause, she continued.

"My next move is to meet DuLoc on the field of battle. Alone. You will all return to the City and position yourselves to retake the Wizard Tower once I defeat DuLoc. Since everything hinges on my duel with DuLoc, you should not move against the rebels until my victory is clear. The exception would be if the rebels try to destroy the City or seal the Tower. Does that make sense?"

"It won't be easy to get back into the Tower unnoticed," said Gwineval.

"I'm sure you will find a way. You know its secrets better than anyone. And you will have these three with you," she said.

"I don't like it," said Otticus. "It can't all be up to you. There has to be some way to help you in your battle against DuLoc."

Hemlock smiled. "Otticus, you've regained your fire while I was gone. What style are you fighting?"

Otticus flushed at the compliment. "I've studied Tanna Varran fighting to honor Tored. He was right—it is the best style for me."

"Good! But you needn't worry about me. As I've said, the coming fight is going to be a battle of immortals."

" _Then I should help you,_ " said Merit.

Hemlock shook her head. "No, you will be a great help in controlling the City. Your new stature alone will cow many of DuLoc's allies. I feel the blood of the City flowing through me. When I fight, I will be marshalling the very forces of creation against DuLoc. Merit, do you feel that kind of power within you? Be truthful."

The great helm squeaked as Merit declined it. After a few moments, it squeaked again as Merit shook it slowly back and forth. " _I'm not sure, Miss Hemlock. But I do have more power now, and I still feel you may need my help._ "

"If you're not sure, then there's no sense in risking your life, Merit," said Hemlock. "If you join the battle, I will worry about you and want to protect you. And DuLoc may use that against me."

" _Perhaps, Miss Hemlock. But what if I do have the kind of power you are describing? Wouldn't that be a great help against DuLoc?"_

Hemlock shook her head. "No, Merit. I can't risk it. Promise me you'll go to the City with Gwineval. Please don't make me worry."

" _I promise, but I'm afraid I don't agree with your decision."_

"Thank you, Merit."

Hemlock returned her attention to the rest of the group.

"I guess we can worry about Falignus after the battle with DuLoc. Still, Otticus, could you patrol the edge of the City to make sure he doesn't try to join the battle? The last thing we need is him delivering himself right into DuLoc's hands. Or worse, getting himself killed."

Otticus shook his head back and forth. "What am I going to do to restrain him? I hear he's like a wraith now. I might not even be able to see him."

Hemlock looked at Gwineval and Renevos. "Is there anything you can do to help Otticus look for Falignus?"

Gwineval spoke up first. "When the search for Falignus began, DuLoc had special eye glasses crafted that detect non-corporeal creatures. It's possible I could sneak a pair out of the Tower to Otticus. But you are asking a lot."

"I know the spell they used to create the glasses," said Renevos. "I refused to help with the enchantment as a matter of principle. I could cast it now with the proper ingredients." The elder wizard looked around him slowly. "But the necessary ingredients do not seem to be here."

"You will figure it out in the City. Now you have two options to get Otticus a pair of the glasses," said Hemlock.

The rest of the night was spent chatting about the past. They shared petty reminiscences that masked an underlying anxiety about the momentous battle that would occur in less than a day. There were concerns about treachery, and a rotating guard was posted. Eventually, they retired to seek what sleep they could in the harsh environment of the hollowed out chamber.

Hemlock took the first watch. The sky over the mountains had a rare, purplish hue, and pale green tendrils of light danced and played within the purple. It was a rare display of a phenomenon known in the City as the Imperator's lights. Hemlock wondered at the timing of the celestial display, but quickly concluded that it mattered little in the face of the significance of her battle with DuLoc.

She remembered how it had felt mere hours before, when she had channeled the fire up through the shaft of the fissure in the rock. The sensation of power had been potent, thrilling and terrible at the same time. The thought of what such power could be used for in the wrong hands made her shudder. And then she considered that DuLoc was a manifestation of that very fear. He was like a disease eating away at and threatening her father's creation. And he had to be stopped.

When it became clear she wasn't going to sleep at all, she let the others sleep through the night in whatever peace they could find for themselves.

...

The night passed without incident, and in the morning, the group departed in silence. The matter of how to transport Merit's new, heavy body was discussed, and Renevos cast an initiate's cantrip on him to lessen his weight while Gwineval amplified the effect. It required some concentration on his part, but Gwineval was able to carry Merit as he flew with the scaly wings he had conjured back in the gardens. Otticus, Renevos, and Hemlock flew on Penelope's back as they had done when they traveled to the mountains.

The morning air was still as they proceeded.

We're early. No matter. I will use the time to center myself.

The scene of her previous battle with DuLoc and the rebel wizards came into view. There was a crater in the earth where the Defiler's Wrath spell had struck, and much of the green grass had withered, leaving a barren looking field that was pockmarked with sparse patches of grass clinging stubbornly to life.

Penelope descended well in front of the battlefield as they had planned, and Hemlock debarked.

Hemlock trotted forward for several yards and then halted to listen carefully. After several moments, she stood more easily and turned to wave the Griffin and the remaining flyers off. They all locked eyes with her.

"It will be alright," she said as she nodded. The men seemed to accept her words, but the Griffin held her gaze, and there was a shared awareness between them that the statement was laden with an unspoken uncertainty.

Next, Penelope was aloft and soaring, carving her way toward the City that lay just a few miles in the distance. Hemlock watched the receding flyers and then turned her attention toward the looming confrontation.

She began to walk forward cautiously.

It is certain to be a difficult fight. I do not fear DuLoc, but I know defeat is possible. He is an immortal like I am—and he stood beside my father in the dawn of creation. He hasn't revealed his full potential yet. It was something about that Chaos Dragon and my visions. He feared unleashing it but now doesn't because it's already been unleashed.

She scrambled down a small defile and could see the large clearing ahead of her that extended for a half mile radius.

_He wields the Imperator's magic, a magic of control, and uses it to its full potential along with the tool created and passed down to maximize it_ _―_ _the Wand of the Imperator._

_My powers are different. I wield my father's magic_ _―_ _a magic of pure creation._

Which magic is stronger? Which of us is stronger?

She continued forward resolutely until she stood at the very outskirts of the clearing. Holding her hand up to block the sun, she saw a figure standing at the other end of the clearing. The blonde hair and the tricorne hat were not a surprise, but a white frocked shirt had replaced his normal jacket. He saw her and bowed.

She walked forward.

They stood fifty yards apart.

"It's time for you to give yourself up," he shouted, but she heard him easily.

He continued, and she realized his shouting was mocking her. "It's time for you to give yourself up for the sake of your beloved friends."

"I can't save them from you if I'm dead," she replied with disdain.

"Where is the one you call Merit? The little abomination?"

"Is that why you didn't attack me when you first realized I had come back? You are afraid of him, aren't you?"

"He's a relic from a past age—dusty and careworn. He has no place in the world such as it is now. I need to find him—yes. I had hoped you would help me do that. But it ultimately matters little. I will find him after I defeat you. Your defeat will destroy all hope in those who clung to aspirations of your return and your leading them to victory over me."

His face darkened, and he lowered his voice. "You won't have to die if you yield to me. You could work with me. Together, we could shape this world—far better than your father ever could!"

"Your powers will never equal my father's—or mine," she yelled.

"Is that right? I see you share his incredible ego. Well, we shall see who is due their comeuppance."

With that, he whipped his elbows to his sides, and his eyes began to flare with green light. A lattice of green runic shards burst from his forehead and fell into an intricate and creeping pattern. Every cry of intimidation ever uttered dripped from the nodes of the forming lattice. Every instant of a cruel father whipping his errant child well past the point of bleeding was described in the foul patterns it formed.

She instinctively drew back as if gathering herself. Great torrents of wild magical force began to gather inside her. Soon, her body could no longer contain the growing energy, and she felt herself begin to stretch and grow larger. Her skin was glowing, and she was sure she had grown to twice her former stature.

She wanted to release the power building inside of her and blast DuLoc—needed to because the force was beginning to tear her apart. But she didn't know how. She tried to remember every spell she had analyzed with her special powers of vision. But nothing gave her any ideas.

She tensed as she felt a breaking point approaching. And then a strange thing happened—her mind unwound backward through her recent life, her passing into the other realm, and then her life before that, going all the way back to her time as a child. She remembered herself as a baby but then she continued backward, and the memories were no longer hers. Her father's memories, his feelings—strange, yet familiar—whipped past. Soon, the City was just getting created and then she reached the early moments of creation. She saw things as a beast would—through savage eyes. Everything was elemental. Fire, air, water, earth, denominated in matter, sound, and temperature.

She ran as the beast ran, devouring axes of energy and morphing reality in her wake. And then she realized she wasn't having a vision. She had transformed into an energy eating beast and was running across the field away from DuLoc.

She saw him whip his arms toward her, and the green runic arc burst toward her, writhing and doubling back in her direction with incredible ferocity.

Hemlock turned to the right and felt the power of her bestial spirit body. She now wielded the ability to make herself anything, and by doing so, reform the matter around her.

She became a ray of piercing light as the runes approached. Rules and clauses rotated frantically in the runes as DuLoc tried to counter the form she had taken, but she penetrated the rules. And as she passed, the land around her turned smoldering and rocky, as if seared. The runes lost coherence in this altered space and shattered.

Thus ensued a back and forth struggle, the likes of which had never been chronicled. When Hemlock gained the advantage by taking a form and condition that could not be controlled by DuLoc, his runes would shatter. Then she would careen toward him, hoping to engulf him in wild magic.

But then DuLoc would regain control, and his runes would assail her more rapidly, threatening to weave reality into a permutation where her existence would be impossible.

Back and forth, back and forth the battle went. And Hemlock began to feel tired. It was just a hint at first, but it built upon itself quickly.

Finally, she stumbled, and her bestial form slid and fell to face DuLoc over a cloud of intervening conflict between chaos and order.

The power she had summoned into her body had been expended. The chaos body was gone, and she was Hemlock again. She knew she had just a moment to react before DuLoc's runes would overwhelm her defenses.

She remembered how she had destroyed the Imperator's artifacts in the Seeker's cave the prior night by summoning the Maker's Fire. That hadn't taken much strength, and something told her it would be a terrible escalation in the fight. But she was desperate.

She focused her remaining will to the area in front of her as the runes screamed within mere yards.

There was just a moment of rumbling before a huge geyser of molten fire smashed out of the ground in front of her in a column that was easily twenty-five yards wide. Great boulders fell around her, setting the very earth aflame as the column roared and then died out, leaving behind a huge crater with a seemingly bottomless crevice belching small bursts of flame.

DuLoc's runes had been completely destroyed except for a tight arc immediately surrounding him as he knelt.

"So, it comes to this, does it? Many will suffer... But I won't be defeated," he cried.

Hemlock felt a pang, but she had seen visions of the reality DuLoc intended to create and felt sure it was a fate worse than death.

She summoned another arc of flame that erupted below him, and that his runic shield barely prevented from incinerating him. He was blasted into the air as his runes shattered, and he landed hard some yards away.

He grunted and rolled before getting back to his knees and raising his arms. He now held a blazing Wand of the Imperator high in one hand.

Hemlock was puzzled because she thought she saw fear in his eyes when they met hers. But he quickly looked away.

There was a moment of stillness as if the entire sky gasped in anticipation of the destructive magic energies forming. With a wicked crack, the head of the Wand exploded, green flame engulfed DuLoc, and viridescent runes leapt into the heavens from his hand. The entire sky pulsed and glowed with green malice. The silhouette of a passing moon not normally visible through the sky pierced the veil of the clouds. And then the moon itself shattered in an explosion so shocking in its scope that Hemlock felt paralyzed by the spectacle of it. A great rumble reverberated, and massive shards of rock hurtled down into the atmosphere at supernatural speeds, turning red with fire as they screamed and broke into smaller pieces. In mere moments, huge boulders blasted down all around Hemlock, blowing gaping channels into the earth as they struck.

She rose and burst into a run as DuLoc scrambled evasively. He guided the storm of falling rock toward her in a torrent of smaller rocks that tore twenty-foot craters into the ground as they struck. He guided the strikes, so they prevented her from approaching and attempting a strike on him. But she was too quick for him to kill with the barrage.

On and on she ran, noting with horror that she was tiring again as the second wind granted by the Maker's Fire began to wane.

As she slowed, she put some additional distance between her and DuLoc, hoping to regroup herself for a final burst of speed.

But DuLoc was gesturing like a conductor reaching a crescendo, and she realized with horror that a mammoth rock that was easily hundreds of yards wide was overhead and falling with impossible speed toward her, boosted by a trail of green runes.

As she broke into a desperate and futile run, she heard a loud shriek of metal on metal from the far edge of the clearing and saw the glint of an armored form approach.

" _NO!_ " roared a shout in a thunderous voice that Hemlock recognized as Merit's baritone.

"Merit, what are you doing?" Hemlock shouted as the shadow of the great rock above engulfed her.

Merit didn't answer, instead raising his arm and sweeping it across his body. Hemlock felt the familiar tingle of a great spell, and looking up, saw the strongest magical shield she had ever beheld. It was shimmering, and when the hulking, mountainous shard of rock hit it, she was thrown to the ground by the titanic impact, and everything went black.

She came to quickly, instantly regaining context as her vision returned. The shield above her had faded, but somehow it had held.

Hemlock covered her head as the earth groaned all around her and the area around her broke apart into a massive fragment. The corner of it fell into the bowels of the earth as the other end raised into the air. She slid down uncontrollably until she impacted a shelf of flat stone some fifty feet below her original position on the formerly flat ground.

As she regained her footing, Hemlock saw Merit high above her, straining under the massive power flowing through him into the shield.

Hemlock looked directly above her and saw that part of the great rock had not broken apart when it had hit the shield – it was still intact, and the shield was rapidly weakening under its tremendous weight.

"Merit, You'll die! Save yourself," she yelled. She felt a terrible sadness, although the feeling was somehow partitioned off in her mind—leaving her aware of it but otherwise unencumbered.

" _It's too late, Miss Hemlock,_ " came the echoed reply of Merit's distorted voice—but the sound of the voice didn't even register with her. It was the words that sunk in with a stinging significance that threatened to pierce her dispassionate state of mind. Her memory was back with her now—ever since the vision she had experienced prior to her recent transformation. She remembered back to when she had first met Merit in the tower and how he had taken to her immediately. How he had helped her. How he had been her friend.

" _Save the City!_ " was the last thing he said to her, and then the magical shield buckled. There was a monstrous crack as the bulk of the rock split apart overhead, and half of it rolled down the failing remnants of the shield to fall some distance away while the other half fell to rest beside the chasm she stood within, casting a cloud of rock and debris at it struck. Hemlock was thrown down again and spit blood onto the rocky floor as she struggled to stand. The sky was overhead again and she noticed that a great section of the earth had been turned on its side, creating a massive ramp beside her.

As the debris cloud cleared, Hemlock saw a figure standing at the edge of the cliff in front of her. It was bathed in smoke which Hemlock realized was emanating from the figure itself.

Licks of green fire burst out of its malicious eyes and around a skeletal head. Sparse locks of hair still clung to the smoldering bone that was all that remained of its body. It was unadorned, though the clumps of flesh that still clung to the bones of its torso, arms, and legs hung awkwardly like tattered clothing.

It took her a moment to reconcile that what she saw before her were the remnants of DuLoc.

The creature noticed her, and when their eyes met, there was only a feral recognition as the wraith began to shuffle around the cliff face toward the earthen ramp.

Hemlock could sense the power still emanating from the creature and the pure malice that had engulfed it. That it sought to destroy her was clear, but she didn't imagine it would stop until every living person in the City had also been engulfed by its hate.

As she watched its unholy advance, she came to the instant realization that she was too weak to fight the creature.

She saw a dark opening to her right, and the faint scent of stale air coming from that direction along with a strong intuition propelled her toward that opening as quickly as her broken body could take her.

The thing that had been DuLoc laughed as it perceived her flight. The laugh was haunting in its shrillness. It was completely devoid of humanity.

She ran into the darkness, scrambling down cliffs and through great caverns as her reserves of strength began to return. Something was instinctively drawing her downward, and she had no time to consider alternatives. She could see the green glow from behind her and hear the terrible clatter of the creature's bones as it moved like a revenant spider with horrifying speed that easily matched hers. And it laughed incessantly, punctuating the laughter with high pitched shrieks that threatened to fill Hemlock with despair.

She grew disgusted with herself as she felt the creeping blackness of despair overtaking her resolve to continue her flight. The pure physicality of her descent through the vast network of caves and caverns kept most of her attention—required it. But her seemingly unassailable sense of inner serenity was being eroded by the terrible laughter of the wraith.

Just as the darkness threatened to take control of her soul, a fairy light became detectable in front of her. It seemed to beckon to her. She felt heartened by it and followed as it led her into a familiar section of the cave network. The wraith scuttled close behind her, and any relief she felt by the unexpected aid was tempered by a knowledge that her struggle would likely be in vain. The wraith was clearly gaining on her. And it seemed to continue undiminished while her own reserves of energy were on the wane.

The light that guided her soon materialized into a recognizable form. It was the scarred, ghostly warrior who had recently led her to the surface—stout in bearing and short in stature. He glided across the rocky floor and floated over areas where Hemlock had to jump. She knew he was a friend. But then he moved in a direction that felt wrong. She had an instant to decide whether to continue in the direction her fate seemed to be guiding her or to follow the guidance of the ghostly warrior.

In a move of pure faith, she turned into the small passage that the ghostly warrior had entered. The wraith scuttled behind her and she dared to look back. Instead of running, it continued to move like a spider with arms and legs splayed out, gripping the walls of the passage and leaving the skull twisted at an impossible angle and leering at her.

It was only twenty yards behind her.

She continued to run as the laughter of the wraith threatened to drive her insane. The ghostly warrior led her into a wide chamber that was about forty yards across and had a slight crevice across from her that was the only visible point of egress.

As she ran, she noticed the air in the chamber had a different characteristic to it. It was somehow thick and tiny pinpoints of light glittered throughout its hazy volume. A strange tinkling sound accompanied the play of the tiny lights in the mist. The green light behind her made the room appear cyan as her terrible pursuer entered. A cold, analytical part of her brain recognized that this was some form of explosive gas.

The ghostly form of the warrior had stopped at the mouth of the crevice in front of her and was now motioning wildly for her to run for the exit. She mustered every final bit of energy she had for an inhuman burst of speed.

Everything slowed down as she ran. Every tensing of muscle and sinew in her legs took an eternity. She knew her survival depended on reaching that exit. The slow-motion laughter of the wraith behind her seemed to agitate the mist, and the tiny lights glowed brighter. Hemlock knew the lore of this volatile gas that was sensitive to sound. She knew that it was so concentrated in this chamber that the explosive force would be inconceivable. She also knew that even though she was now a spirit who contained a power far greater than any mortal, she still needed a mortal form to inhabit. This gas would disintegrate her body when it exploded, casting her spirit adrift from this world. Her only hope was to reach that exit first.

Her ears became attenuated to every sound as she ran. Every sound intensified the lights in the mist. Her heart thundered in her chest.

She had two steps left when she heard the laughter of the wraith recede like an intake of breath. She knew what would come next. The lights in the mist were pulsing wildly. The ghostly warrior was close in front of her, so close that she could see his spectral eyes go wide with recognition of what she already knew. This was the climax of her struggle.

She leapt forward with such power that her feet carved divots into the rock below them. Her body was catapulted like a missile through the fissure in the wall just as the wraith of DuLoc let out its fell shriek.

But that shriek was cut short by a savage explosion accompanied by a searing heat that immolated Hemlock as she soared through the air down a rocky tunnel with fingers of flame behind her. As the pain became unbearable, she began to lose consciousness.

But then the painful brightness was above her, and she felt a sensation of falling. Next came the sound of rushing water beneath her. She landed hard, but the pain of the impact was just a split second. Then there was tremendous relief as the gentle cold of the water surrounded her. It was so soothing after the terrible struggle that she flickered in and out of a sleep borne of absolute exhaustion.

She had glimpses of the spray of flowing water and the sound of rushing current. She floated on her back along a rocky channel upon a blanket of tinkling water. It played mirthfully below her, and she was fully serene.

Her mind wandered back to the great tower of rock in the other realm where her father's creation had been suspended beneath a lattice of channels bearing water.

Did I perish in the flame?

Her heart leapt at the thought of seeing her father again. She was content to lay in peace for many minutes as the current carried her toward whatever her future held.

And then she was conscious that she had stopped moving. She was in a cavern, and the stream of water was flowing through a shelf too narrow for her to pass. There was a dim light in the room from a wall of lichen, and she saw a flat cave floor beside the flowing water and the dark shadow of a passage leading out of the chamber.

She had not died. And she wept at this realization, even though she knew her struggles would continue and her work was not complete.

She was confident DuLoc, whatever he had become, had perished. But she wanted to be certain, so she called up her vision of the spheres of the City to verify that DuLoc did not appear. Sadly, neither did Merit, and this renewed her weeping for several moments.

Eventually, the pull of fate overcame her feelings of grief.

She now realized where she was being drawn toward.

She walked briskly though the caves, having a sense that time was not as short as before. Still, she knew that the City was still in danger. Multiple dangers, actually. She invoked her otherworldly vision again and perceived one of them. She widened the scope of her vision until she could see to the very edges of creation. There, near the edge, but seeping slowly inward, was a dark shadow. Where there were worlds in its path toward the City, there was nothing in its wake. Where worlds had surely once been, there was only the cold emptiness of a void.

The Chaos Dragon approaches.

The slight shudder of the rock underfoot made her aware of the other perils she had sensed like a bad feeling at the edges of consciousness. It now coalesced.

Her battle with DuLoc and its terrible violence had done something to the City. It had broken something that had long held. Maybe it was her calling forth the power of the Maker's Fire, or maybe it was DuLoc's sundering of the great moon above. But the City was somehow off its axis. And it shuddered again at its very foundations.

It didn't take her long to reach the secret chamber where her father had created the seven pillars of wisdom. In the dull glow of the chamber, she was horrified to find that the pillar where her father had been imprisoned was destroyed. There was nothing left of it. No rock remained nor did any parts of her father's trapped visage.

This was the cause of the City's most immediate peril.

A premonition flooded her thoughts. She imagined the sound of coarse weeping. Inhuman weeping.

In a few moments, she heard that weeping.

A great figure approached her from the shadow. Its head was bowed as it wept with a grating sound that invoked pity in Hemlock's heart.

It was Amarank, the earth spirit that had been led astray by her desire for a child and the temptation of Julius.

Hemlock was content to remain still for a long time while Amarank wept softly. A stronger shudder that disrupted the rhythmic thud of the other pillars—and the titans within them—broke the reverie of the preceding moments.

"You know what you have to do," Hemlock said gently.

I CAN'T. I AM NOT LIKE I WAS BEFORE. MY BODY WILL NOT SURVIVE THE STRAIN.

"That may be so. But, still, you must try. I don't feel your struggles will end in tragedy. I sense a chance at redemption for you."

Amarank approached the hole where the column of rock had stretched downward and looked contemplative. Then, her chin rose toward the ceiling and she seemed to look beyond like she was looking into other realms.

YES. I SUPPOSE THIS IS MY WAY, NOW. EVEN IF I FAIL, IT WILL BE A FITTING END. I THANK YOU FOR SHOWING ME THE WAY. I THINK I ALWAYS KNEW, BUT I DESPAIRED THAT IT COULD EVER REALLY HAPPEN.

"It can happen, Amarank. You just need to try."

Amarank nodded solemnly, and then she stepped into the space between the round openings in the floor and ceiling. She remained suspended somehow, and her face was overcome by a grimace. She screamed so loudly that Hemlock feared the entire chamber might collapse.

Multicolored light began to swirl around Amarank's body, and slowly, it was reshaped. Molten rock began to flow downward from the opening above and it clung to her body. The human-like features faded into the rock. Face, breasts, and hips receded, leaving a heavier, bulkier mass.

After a time, Amarank's suffering ended. She slowly looked up, and as her arms extended, she pulled a column of rock down and pushed it farther into the hole below her. Soon, she fell into a rhythm with the other six elementals, restoring the seventh pillar.

And the shuddering of the City stopped.
Chapter Seventeen

Hemlock strode into a city in ruin. Her eyes quickly found the Wizard Tower, symbol of so many things to her, and saw that it still stood unscathed. But the rest of the City had not been so lucky. Columns of smoke rose from every neighborhood, illustrating that a great number of the meteors that had fallen during the battle with DuLoc had gone astray.

She entered through the Elite district and walked alone through crowds that went silent as they recognized her. At a certain point, she realized that her clothes were bloodstained and in tatters. But her body had already recovered from all the wounds she had suffered.

She met the eyes of several citizens as she walked. The Elite district had been heavily damaged. Many of the togas she saw were bloodied, and bodies were being carted away. She nodded to those who greeted her.

"Did you kill him?" asked one man who was bolder than the rest.

She nodded her head in response.

She felt an uncomfortable distance between the people and herself. This feeling was new to her, but she had changed, and apparently, so had their perception of her.

If this is victory, then the feeling is hollow. But at least they are safe now. Still, innocent lives have been lost. I couldn't prevent that.

Her thoughts returned to Merit. He'd been faithful to the end.

He accepted me even as I am now.

She walked in pensive silence around Hemisphere Lake. A small crowd had gathered in her wake, but they walked far behind her. She looked over the choppy waters and at the wrecked boats that still littered the shoreline—the last remains of the settlement of boats had been abandoned when Cassandra had fallen in the initial battle with DuLoc.

She soon reached the Wizard Tower. As she approached the front side, the heavy doors were sealed. But as she reached the drawbridge, she saw the great doors open slowly.

Gwineval, Renevos, and Otticus walked out solemnly and greeted her.

Gwineval's tongue darted to and fro before he broke the awkward silence. "Is it over, then?"

"Yes, DuLoc is destroyed," she said.

"We can't find Merit," said Gwineval with his eyes downcast. When he finished speaking, he looked at her intently.

"He returned to the battlefield. He saved me. But he fell while trying to protect me."

They all looked downward. Otticus slowly approached Hemlock and reached out, taking her hand in his. "I know he meant the world to you. We're all sorry."

Renevos spoke next, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Hemlock, he died doing what he thought was right and coming to the defense of a friend. I can't think of a nobler death than that."

"Yes," she managed.

They stood in silence for several minutes until the sun began to creep down toward the horizon. Hemlock noticed that Penelope had perched on top of the Wizard Tower and joined their silent vigil in her own way. She realized the Griffin must have brought Merit back to the battle and probably had as heavy a heart as any of them.

Hemlock reached out her mind to the noble beast.

Penelope, you did the right thing for the City.

I BROUGHT HIM TO HIS DEATH, BUT HE INSISTED. I HOPE I DID THE RIGHT THING.

...

In the early evening, after a light meal that had mostly gone untouched, the group met on the roof of the Wizard Tower at the behest of Hemlock. Penelope the Griffin was still there.

"Any news of Falignus?" Hemlock asked.

"I was able to create the magical glasses, and we did locate him, but we were unable to capture him. He is a tortured spirit of the night now, Hemlock. He appears to be beyond help," said Renevos.

"Where was he?"

"He was lurking near your old apartments. But that doesn't matter now. We will drive him out so nobody is harmed. I will see that it is done."

"I can help him," she replied.

"Hemlock, our grief is still fresh and raw. We must consider our next course of action carefully," cautioned Gwineval.

"I will go to him and summon him for our final mission," said Hemlock.

"Hemlock―" Gwineval began in rebuttal.

Hemlock raised her hand to halt him. "Don't concern yourself with it. I know exactly what must be done. He and I will leave immediately to confront the Chaos Dragon that is coming to destroy the City."

"Hemlock, right away? You need to rest!" said Otticus.

"My body is fully recovered," she stated. "We have no time to delay. Every moment we wait could result in the destruction of another world. I'm sorry to leave you again so soon, my friends, but it must be done. And Falignus must accompany me."

Gwineval shook his head and muttered dark words under his breath.

Hemlock looked at him. "Remember your oath in the mountains. You must have faith. You all need to lead the reconstruction efforts in the City. Find Samberlin and unite the Senate and the Wizards. If any rebel wizards still remain, offer them another chance to return to the tower. It will be their last. Make sure you clear Hemisphere Lake. That lake is now forbidden."

"Why?" asked Renevos.

"The true Wizard Tower will return soon," she said.

Ignoring his additional question, she walked to Penelope.

I must ask a great and terrible thing of you. The fate of the City depends on it.

YOU FRIGHTEN ME BECAUSE I KNOW YOU DO NOT EXAGGERATE. WHAT CHOICE DO I HAVE NOW, AFTER EVERYTHING THAT'S HAPPENED?

We all have choices, Penelope. I would not force you to do this against your will. It is a sacrifice you must make willingly.

TELL ME THEN. I AM HONOR BOUND TO ACCEPT.

I hope that's not the case, but I'll admit that the situation is desperate enough that I may be forced to accept your choice even under those circumstances. As you know, the Chaos Dragon is approaching the City, consuming every world in his path. He's grown to a size and power that exceeds my own. I have only one hope to stop him. Falignus and I, scions of the two noblest bloodlines and mortal enemies, must confront him as allies.

The only chance we have to reach him in time is to intercept him several worlds out from the City. And you are the only creature that can get us there in time.

BUT I CAN ONLY TRAVEL ONE WORLD BEFORE NEEDING GREAT REST.

Hemlock nodded as the implications started to come into focus for the Griffin. As they did, Penelope reared up and let out a cry of anguish.

IT CANNOT BE! YOU CANNOT BE ASKING ME TO DO THIS?

I told you I was asking you to make a terrible sacrifice. You must walk down the dark path of those who can travel multiple worlds by replenishing themselves on blood sacrifice. You must become what you most fear—a corruption of your kind—a dragon.

The Griffin's tongue lolled in her mouth as her body was wracked with anguish.

IT WOULD BE BETTER TO DIE THAN TO HAVE TO SUFFER SUCH INDIGNITY.

As I said, it is your choice—a terrible choice. I am deeply sorry to have to ask this of you.

I NEED A MOMENT ALONE.

I understand.

Hemlock walked back toward the others, who didn't bother to disguise their curiosity about what had just transpired. Hemlock quickly explained the situation, which only increased their sense of shock.

I AM READY TO MEET MY FATE.

Hemlock approached the Griffin, who had regained control of her emotions. She stroked the creature's mane, and then mounted her.

We'll head to my old neighborhood. Falignus is there.

Together, they soared into the air and flew out over the wounded City. From the air, the damage was more apparent. Great sections of the Warrens had burned during the tumult, and many homes where still smoldering. The market had also burned, which was no surprise as it was mostly built from cloth and wood like the Warrens.

They descended to street level, attracting the stares of a beleaguered populace who were too busy with grim tasks or mourning to pay them too much attention.

Hemlock dismounted and used her otherworldly vision. She could sense Falignus in a general sense but was unable to pinpoint his location. She wasn't even sure he was in this neighborhood. She would have to trust the information her friends had given her.

She turned toward Penelope, feeling that she should be crying for the tragedy that she was about to make the Griffin perpetrate, but unable to muster the emotion.

Fare thee well, my friend.

As dusk descended and stars poked through a darkening sky, she entered her old apartment that had stood abandoned since she had disappeared months ago. Its door had been nailed shut, but she was able to kick it open easily. She noted a crack in the boards that covered the windows and a cracked window sill behind it—plenty of room for passage by an immaterial creature.

I hope he is as sentimental as I expect he is.

She entered the hallway and was mildly surprised by the dust and cobwebs that were visible in the very dim light. She proceeded into her room and then, finally, into Falignus' old room.

His dusty bed was still there, and she sat on it heavily, trying to detect a hint of his presence in the air.

"Are you here, beloved?" she asked, surprised by her own use of the term of endearment and also taking stock of what it meant given her newfound sense of distance from mortal perspective.

She was able to sense an unnatural darkness in the corner of the room. It was merely a distortion in the normal fields of chaos magic that permeated everything in the world, but it was detectable.

"Come to me," she whispered. "You don't need to live like this any longer. Your fear and self-loathing can end now. Come and feed on me, and my blood will purify you."

The shadow wavered but did not approach.

"Come here, Falignus," she whispered again, stretching her arms out toward the darkness. "You won't harm me. I am beyond that now. I have changed, my love."

The shadow slowly began to approach.

As it reached her, she embraced the darkness and the pinch of its penetration was just a momentary distraction. She was conscious of her blood pumping in her veins—of another network of veins materializing as her blood flowed into them. A body formed in her arms and then a predatory shadow passed over their union. But her heart pumped like a blazing sun, and the shadow soon passed from memory.

The body in her arms joined with hers in a carnal union. This seemed natural, and even though the act was but an echo of past desires of a prior incarnation, she still took a detached pleasure in it. Their union was elemental in its grace and beauty, and its culmination was like a birth where she played the role of mother and Falignus the child.

As their passion ended, Falignus rolled onto his back, panting. He was restored to the full bloom of his health. In fact, his characteristic pallor had given way to a healthy complexion. Even the scars on his head from the recent battle had disappeared.

He looked at her in awed silence, and then tears appeared in his eyes. His eyes seemed to look inward as if the sudden tears surprised even him.

"What have you become?" he asked.

She looked at him with pity, aware that he would feel a sting of loss at her ascension.

"I am an avatar, returned from beyond to complete my father's work."

They found clothes for him and she continued to explain everything that had happened to her. Finally, she came to a full explanation of their fate as described by the cursed offspring of Amarank years before.

"We must go now to meet our destiny," she said, leading him out of the apartment and onto the street.

"What if I decline to accompany you?" he asked.

She turned to him and deceived him as she had planned. She looked pensive and then troubled. She began to tremble. She knew this would affect him. A part of her felt bad about the need for deception, but she didn't have time for an argument.

Falignus could see that she was rattled, and it seemed to blunt his defiance as she had hoped it would. He lowered his jaw, and his posture slumped a bit. He raised his arms and unclenched his fists.

"It's alright, Hemlock," he said. "I didn't mean to trouble you. It's just that I don't like being controlled. By anyone—even you. I will do this thing for you, although I would appreciate it if you release me from any service after this is done."

They were interrupted by a great, guttural roar from a nearby alley. Slowly, a dragon strode out of the shadows with its head hung low. It was lustrous and golden, and its jaws were drenched in blood.

Screams pierced the early evening air from all around them.

IT IS DONE!

Hemlock detected hatred in that declaration, but there was no time to console Penelope.

We must leave immediately!

She had tried to focus on the critical quest to destroy the Chaos Dragon—to ignore the emotional impact of what Penelope had just done for her. But she happened to catch the dragon's eye as she approached her, and the sadness there was unmistakable. Once again, Hemlock was shaken to her core.

This was an act of evil, and I'm responsible for it.

She tried to console herself and thought of all the people who would die if the progress of the Chaos Dragon were left unchecked. And she was able to do so—mostly. But something was still unsaid, and she didn't feel right proceeding until it was.

Penelope, you are not defined by this new form. And the killing I'm asking you to do—that is my responsibility—not yours. Don't let your heart be weighed down by it. These deaths would have happened anyway if our mission failed. Entire worlds hang in the balance. Those who have just fallen did so on behalf of others so that they might have a chance to live. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of people will be saved by their sacrifice—and yours. Don't forget that!

Penelope turned her head and looked at Hemlock. It was a hard look—appraising. And Hemlock saw hatred, self-loathing, and aggression in that gaze. But she also saw resolve and loyalty. She knew that Penelope would be able to fulfill her role in the coming struggle.

She turned back toward Falignus and was relieved to see him approaching. His walk was familiar, simultaneously relaxed and energetic, like the sinuous undulations of a snake. She marveled again at his apparent health and vigor, though his expression was subdued.

Penelope dipped her shoulder, and Hemlock clambered atop her easily. Falignus hopped up behind her.

With that, Hemlock felt a massive surge and she was driven backward by the sudden thrust of Penelope's wings. She was able to maintain her grip on the dragon's neck, and Falignus remained behind her with a crushing grasp around her waist.

Is this how Julius felt when he returned to the City?

She looked down as they climbed. The City itself was still scorched and smoking. The destructive trails of the meteorites left by their crashing passage through buildings and thoroughfares were visible from this vantage point. Next, the site of her battle with DuLoc and his wraith caught her eye. The field was pockmarked with craters, the largest of which looked like a gaping wound in the earth.

As she returned her vision to the direction they travelled, Hemlock noticed that the prodigious wind blowing her hair almost straight back had blown rivulets of blood from the dragon's jaws back along its neck where it had soiled her hands and arms. The symbolism of that was inescapable.

This is the burden my father had to bear. Now it is my burden as well.

The glittering stars above them began to come into focus as they rose through the upper atmosphere. Some nearby worlds took on a spherical appearance while others remained mere points of light in the distance.

Hemlock noticed it then—a part of the vista above them that was darker than the rest. A few closer worlds were visible, but none of the distant points of light were in evidence. Hemlock addressed Penelope.

Head toward the dark area of the sky.

Penelope roared in response and the relentless beating of her draconic wings became more vigorous. As they fully left the City, the grandeur of the other worlds floating in the inky black void that separated them was completely revealed.

Even though she had seen it before, she felt awed by the sight for several moments. Falignus leaned forward from behind her and spoke into her ear. There was awe in his voice as well, but it had apparently focused him on the enormity of their task.

"How are we going to fight this Chaos Dragon?"

She considered his question for a moment. She had felt the strong pull of her destiny so acutely that she hadn't given much thought to the answer to his question. When she hadn't replied after a few moments, he spoke again.

"What was the prophecy you were told about this battle?"

"Amarank's child just said that both bloodlines will be needed to confront the beast. He didn't give any more details," she replied.

Falignus sounded discomfited by her response. "Alright, what do we know about it, then?"

"Nothing," she replied, "other than the visions I've had of it. I've seen them a handful of times. The thing is huge. It consumes entire worlds. It was apparently created by the Imperator as a last resort to destroy the City if his power failed. Apparently, my use of powerful magic released it. I don't know exactly how it was created or what its weaknesses might be. But I do have one idea. We are going to get you a Wand of the Imperator."

She felt him tense behind her and was sure he would protest. But his response surprised her.

"We are going to need every option we have. I think that's a wise plan. But where will you get a Wand? Didn't you tell me DuLoc's Wand was destroyed?"

"Yes, but I know of two others. They were placed on a distant world to tether my father's original tower away from the City so the Imperator's Tower could replace it. There were originally three Wands used for this, but DuLoc retrieved one during his return to the City," she replied.

"Fascinating. Wait..." he muttered.

She turned back toward him slightly, conscious of his warmth as the cold of the void around them became noticeable. "What is it?"

"Wait a moment. Don't speak to me until I talk again," he said severely.

Hemlock was curious but respected his request. Several moments passed. She became somewhat alarmed when his hands began to twitch at her waist. She took the precaution of reaching down with one arm to grab one of his.

Next, he grabbed her convulsively and then relaxed.

"It is done," he breathed hoarsely.

"What?"

"I was able to use my prescience. It seems the infusion of your blood has removed my need for a blood sacrifice to use that power."

"What did you see?"

"We were confronting the Chaos Dragon. It spoke to us, but I couldn't make out the words. Then we flew toward it with a great lance fashioned from one of the Wands. We flew directly into its heart and slew it. But the thing is, Hemlock, it _let_ us do it. I got the impression that something we said to it convinced it to let us. The thing is incredibly powerful. I don't think we have any chance to kill it in a battle should it resist. We have to convince it to die somehow."

Hemlock nodded. "Yes, that feels right. That is what we must do. I can't say how we'll accomplish it, but I'll have to trust fate to inspire me when the time comes."

They were approaching another world. It was a green globe and gave the impression it was covered in dense forests and foliage. Bright blue rivers wound through the swaths of green like a system of veins.

Penelope spoke with a roaring, bellowing desperation.

I NEED TO FEED.

Hemlock stroked her scaly neck.

Yes, you must. Take us down near a settlement.

They descended into the warmth of a temperate climate. The air was thick with moisture as they descended. None of them spoke as the realization of what was about to happen sank in.

They spotted a network of thatched huts on a riverbank as they soared down through the gusty air currents. They landed hard several hundred yards from the village. Primitive people were on the water and peered out from their huts at the unfamiliar spectacle.

Part of Hemlock wanted to weep as a throng of curious people gathered and then approached slowly and cautiously. Hemlock could feel Penelope trembling beneath her.

"We'll stay with you. We'll share the burden of this act with you. Falignus, can you cast a spell to ease the suffering of the victims?" asked Hemlock.

"Yes, I will do it," said Falignus. Hemlock felt the palpable energy of the spell pass her and the foremost two score of people suddenly froze in place, their heads lolling. Their companions, perceiving this, became alarmed and tried to rouse them—to no avail.

Grimly, Penelope lunged forward with a beat of her wings. This scared those villagers who still had their wits about them away from their helpless brethren. And then the slaughter began. Hemlock forced herself not to look away as those innocent lives were extinguished.

When it was over, she climbed down off Penelope and knelt next to every corpse to pay her respects. The crowd of villagers looked on in awe and fear, unable to reconcile the sudden ferocity of what had transpired with the calmer moments that had preceded it.

When she had knelt beside the last of the bodies, she turned to face the survivors and bowed to them.

"I am sorry, there's no time to do more!" she shouted. And then she climbed atop the dragon again.

"Fly!" she said to the beast, and with a burst of her powerful wings, the trio was aloft again. Each of them bore a heavier burden than when they had landed. It was a burden they each accepted, but that didn't make the weight any easier to bear.

This ritual was repeated three more times as they flew toward the advancing shadow. Hemlock repeated her solemn requiem each time the slaughter was completed. By this time, more than a day had passed since they had left the City, but Hemlock and Falignus could find no appetite given the horror of the dragon's feeding and the ensuing carnage.

The next world they descended into was where the original Wizard Tower was. It was a mountainous world with strange steppes of protruding rock upon which scattered trees grew at odd angles. Herds of deft animals ran along these rocks, leaping great distances over the intervening chasms that separated the rock.

They spotted a band of human hunters moving amongst the rocks, and when they spotted an area large enough to land, Falignus was able to beguile them into approaching to play their part in the grim process that was necessary to continue their quest.

As this bloody process unfolded again, Hemlock noticed something with her magical sight.

There's something similar about the way Penelope feeds and the way Falignus did before he drank my blood.

She was curious to continue this line of thought, but as the feeding ended, she realized Penelope had already fed for the final time before their impending confrontation. She needed to use her visionary power to locate her father's tower. She quickly located it, and they flew off toward it.

In the midst of the protruding rocks, there was a vast azure lake full of egg-like rocks. In the center was the huge bulk of the tower. It was an organic looking formation of rock that looked like a vast, scalloped tree with two branches, a lower and a higher. Each branch was topped with a flat expanse that looked like foliage when the whole structure was imagined as a tree. There were periodic asymmetric gaps in the entire structure which looked like opaque windows into a dark interior.

At the base of the tower, there were two blazing anchors of magic. They shone a bright white and reflected in the water.

"The water is only waist deep there. We can land," said Hemlock.

They descended, and Penelope splashed down. Eyeing the nearest Wand, Hemlock noted that it was suspended slightly above the water by a bright white current of magic that descended into the water below it and up into the gigantic base of the rocky tower. They all took a moment to wash themselves and then inspected the Wands. Hemlock realized they hadn't considered how to remove them.

Using her magical affinity sight, she perceived that the magic was creating a spatial distortion and a time distortion. She explained this to Falignus and then mused aloud.

"My sense is if we remove one of these, it's going to create a massive rift in space and time as the tower returns to the City. Best case, we might get caught in the effect and return to the City with the tower. But that would threaten our quest. Worst case, we might be killed. We know DuLoc managed to take a Wand somehow," said Hemlock, turning toward Falignus. "Do you have any ideas how it might be done?"

He thought for a long while and then spoke uncertainly. "I agree with you. We can't remove these Wands by any normal means. We have to think differently, somehow. DuLoc was an otherworldly being like you, right?"

Hemlock nodded.

"What if he used some ability that you don't yet understand? An ability you have but haven't discovered yet," said Falignus.

Hemlock considered that, but then something about the pattern of the white magic beams caught her attention. The bonds between the beam and the base of the tower were relatively weak, but they were numerous. They were strong in aggregate but not individually. She explained this to Falignus.

He nodded but didn't speak. His brow was furrowed in a look that conveyed he didn't understand the significance of her observation.

"What if you start to disconnect those tendrils of magic from the tower and connect them to me? By the time the tower breaks free, I would be anchored to the Wand that's still anchored to this place. And I could hold on to you to keep you tethered too. Penelope could fly off to a safe distance."

Falignus frowned. "Hemlock, the force of that binding magic might disintegrate you in the process. I know your body has special properties, but we don't know if it will stand up to that kind of stress."

"DuLoc must have done it like this. There's no other way," she protested.

"DuLoc didn't have to contend with the tower phasing back to the City."

Hemlock had to concede his point. But after a minute of thought, she shook her head.

"There's no other way, Falignus. If there's some power I have that I don't know about, I don't know how to discover it now. We only have one idea, and it seems like a good plan to disconnect each tendril. I think it's what DuLoc did. But we'll have to have faith that we'll be able to survive the phasing effect," she said.

"I'll try it if you think there's no other way. My prescience is not giving any guidance. There are timelines where we perish and timelines where we proceed. But everything in the immediate future is too hazy to comprehend."

"Let's do it," she said.

He nodded then cast a spell of protection to shield his body. Next, they sent Penelope away as they had discussed, and then Falignus began the painstaking process of transferring the magic tendrils from the base of the tower to Hemlock. It took almost an hour before anything happened.

Hemlock noticed it first. Falignus had just completed another spell when she saw ripples play over the water that had been placid just a moment before. Then came a rumble that quickly grew in intensity. The tower above them began to stretch and bend at impossible angles as a white vortex opened around it. Gale force winds kicked up and the water around them was blown clear, exposing the mucky lake bottom for hundreds of yards in all directions. Falignus had spread the magical tendrils from the Wand all over Hemlock's body except for her arms, which were wrapped around Falignus. Hemlock had no problem holding Falignus despite the force of the winds and the shield spell that enclosed him.

A pulling sensation began with an abrupt jerk. Suddenly, the tower was receding into the inchoate vortex, and Hemlock was pulled toward it until she was suspended in the air by the suction of the vortex and the restraint of the Wand. She held Falignus tightly.

The fury of the wind grew, and the tower faded as it stretched farther into the vortex. Falignus screamed as the shield spell wavered, and his back arched along the point where Hemlock's arms were clasped around him. She thought about moving her arms to brace him more evenly but feared he might be yanked from her grasp in the process. Just as she thought his back would break, the vortex closed with a thunderclap. They dropped into the muck and the water, which was now unrestrained and splashed over their heads.

They both stood up, coughing and panting.

"Are you alright?" asked Hemlock.

Falignus rubbed his back where her arms had been. "I've been better, but I'll survive," he replied. "Did the Wand harm you?"

She had felt pain, but she had paid more attention to Falignus than herself, and her pain had barely registered. It had all but faded away. "I fared better than you did," she said.

They surveyed the area where the mass of rock had been just moments before. The nearest Wand was still present, and Hemlock was still tethered to it. The other Wand was gone.

"It must have been drawn back to the City with the tower," said Falignus.

Hemlock hoped it wouldn't cause any mischief back there, but was confident Gwineval and Renevos would restrict access to the newly returned tower.

Falignus quickly removed all the magical tethers and soon the Wand was resting comfortably in his hand.

"Can you make it into a lance?" asked Hemlock.

"We'll have to do it crudely. I can't fundamentally refashion an artifact such as this—especially not in the timeframe we have. But I can do something simple. Hopefully it will be enough. I can focus the powers of the Wand to strengthen the bond when the moment comes."

They cut down two branches from a slim tree that was straighter than the rest, and Falignus risked altering the Wand with a simple spell of wood binding. He took the two straight branches and bent them together, and then curved them around the glass ball of the Wand. His spell worked the twin branches into a spirally-wound, sharpened point. Finally, he bonded the branches with the wooden handle of the Wand.

Satisfied with his work, the trio returned to the dark void and raced toward their final encounter with the Chaos Dragon.

It was close by now. And as Hemlock focused on the vast swath of the void's darkness, she began to perceive a vaporous draconic form in the shadow. It seemed to swim through the void, and the world in front of them was the focus of its predatory advance.

She hoped there was time to save that world.

Penelope, can you fly faster? We're very close, but that world may be consumed before we reach the Chaos Dragon.

I WILL TRY.

And she did fly faster until the vaguely orange world they approached was passing to their side.

All that lay ahead of them was darkness.

They flew on for several minutes, and the sensation of approaching some sort of existential boundary became obvious. Hemlock's body felt insubstantial—like how she had felt when she had first returned to the City from the other realm where she had met her father.

She knew her fated moment was approaching. She had to parlay with the dragon and convince it to spare her father's creation. But she had little idea what she would say other than to relate the prophecy. She thought about the argument she needed to make. The City was important. It was a purifier of people's souls. It was meant to enlighten and to provide a path to the higher realm where her father dwelled.

But what does a dragon care about human enlightenment?

She thought about the griffins and the dragons and what they represented. They had been created along with humans. But why? She thought about the titans of the earth that labored to support the City on the seven pillars of wisdom.

Surely there will be a reward for their years of labor? Would my father deny them the very salvation they work to enable? Surely not.

She began to understand what she would say. And this feeling gave her peace.

But when the terrible face of the Chaos Dragon was revealed in the swirling shadows, and worse yet, when she saw great eyes in that shadow and knew they reckoned her, she knew true fear for the first time since she had returned to the realm of the City.

"Halt!" she cried using her magical voice to project across the vast distance that yet separated the trio from the Chaos Dragon.

The Chaos Dragon halted its methodical advance. And it replied in words that weren't audible in the traditional sense. Instead, these words resonated in their very souls.

SEE ME AND DESPAIR!

Hemlock fought back an urge to fly forward and simply disappear in the cloud of nothingness before her. But then she had a memory of her father kneeling before his creation and the immense, boundless compassion in his voice. It heartened her.

"I do not despair. I am here to free you from your suffering!" she replied.

I AM FREE FROM ANY RESTRAINT. THERE SHALL BE NO FOREBEARANCE—I AM THE DEMISE OF ALL!

"Yet you were a dragon once?"

TRUE!

"And the Imperator made you into what you are now?"

ALSO TRUE!

"That transformation was based on a lie. You are living a lie!"

LIES ARE MORTAL THINGS. SOON THEY WILL HAVE NO SIGNIFICANCE.

"I am no mortal and neither was the Imperator. You were beguiled away from my father's path, and I am going to undo that evil."

WHAT I HAVE BECOME CANNOT BE UNDONE. I WILL FULFILL MY PURPOSE, AND WHEN EVERYTHING HAS BEEN CONSUMED, I WILL CONSUME MYSELF AND ALL WILL BE DARKNESS!

"I am going to kill you. And by killing you, I will free you from carrying out that terrible fate."

I CANNOT BE KILLED. NONE EXIST THAT CAN RESIST ME NOW. NOT EVEN HE WHO CREATED ME.

"Part of that is true—we can't resist you. But we _can_ kill you. If you let us. A prophecy was made. It was said that the bloodlines of the First Wizard and the Imperator would come together and deliver the City from the vengeance of the Imperator. We are here to fulfill that prophecy!"

I AM NOT BOUND BY ANY PROPHECY.

"We are all bound by fate. And this prophecy is your fate. But fate is not cast in stone. You do have a choice to resist. So I will tell you why you shouldn't. You shouldn't resist because you are still capable of caring, even in your current state. If I explain why you should care, will you surrender to your fate?"

MY HEART IS BLACKER THAN THIS VOID. NO PASSIONS STIR IN ME.

"What of your dragon-kind, then? You see that I ride upon the back of a dragon now."

I SEE IT IS SO, AND IT IS A MARVEL TO ME. YET IT ONLY MAKES MY HEART BLACKER FOR I WILL DESTROY MY OWN KIND TOO.

"This dragon is different. Your kind was conceived by the Imperator as a perversion of my father's beloved griffins. But the dragon you see before you was not a creation in mockery like that. She is the first true dragon that has ever lived. She chose to be a dragon as a sacrifice to save the City. Her transformation into a dragon was a noble act that has forever dignified your kind."

THAT MAY BE SO, BUT IT WILL NOT MATTER. SHE IS THE LAST OF OUR KIND OUTSIDE OF MYSELF. EVEN IF YOU DID SOMEHOW DEFEAT ME, OUR LINE WOULD END WITH HER.

"That's not true. Dragon eggs have been found in the City. They will be raised in nobility by the one you see before you."

BUT THEY WILL THIRST FOR KILLING. THEY WILL BE TAINTED BY THAT NEED.

"Watch. I will forever free her from that taint."

With that, Hemlock addressed Penelope in the same magically amplified voice. "Penelope the Dragon, feed on me now. Do not hesitate. I will not be harmed."

Hemlock leapt from the dragon's back and floated in front of her. Penelope looked uncertain, but Hemlock urged her on, and her commanding voice was difficult to resist.

Penelope tore into Hemlock's flesh. Hemlock cried out involuntarily, but the pain was not a concern to her. The power of the remaining worlds flowed into her and kept her from being eviscerated by the dragon, who had sunk into a feral feeding frenzy.

Eventually, Penelope's appetite was satiated. Hemlock's body fully healed soon after. Penelope flew forward, wide-eyed, and returned Hemlock to her back.

Penelope's scales had been golden, but now they turned paler to a light, translucent gold almost diamond-like in their brilliance.

"Behold the first diamond dragon!" cried Hemlock. "They will not need to slaughter in order to feed. They will be able to sleep and regain strength like their griffin brethren. The dragon eggs we have found will be hatched and will undergo this same metamorphosis. Your kind with join the noble creations of my father. And, like the titans of the earth and his other faithful servants, their labors will not be forgotten in the ultimate reckoning. They will be granted a rebirth into the higher realm provided they remain true in their service to the City."

With that, a faint spark flickered in the Chaos Dragon's inky dark heart. It was just an ember, but it was all Hemlock needed. She spoke in a clear voice.

"I, Hemlock, daughter of the First Wizard, and Falignus, direct descendant of the Imperator, will slay you and fulfill the prophecy of the seer borne by Amarank the earth elemental!"

She urged Penelope forward toward the ember, and the diamond dragon attained a speed far greater than what she had previously been capable of.

HURRY, I FEEL THE DARKNESS RETURNING TO MY HEART!

Hemlock saw, to her horror, that the ember of light was flickering more rapidly. Penelope somehow found a last reserve of strength, and her glowing wings beat with tremendous strength.

The shadows were all around them as they got closer and closer to the failing ember in the Chaos Dragon's heart.

Finally, just as they were within striking distance, the ember flickered out. Falignus cried out, and cast his spell on the Wand turned lance, nonetheless.

With sinking spirits, the trio entered the shadow knowing the despair of failure. But, at the last moment, the ember sputtered to life one final time.

Penelope, Hemlock, and Falignus aimed true and the lance struck the ember of the Chaos Dragon's heart with apocalyptic force. The darkness suddenly blazed all around Hemlock as the Chaos Dragon was rendered in sizzling light for a moment before everything faded to white.
Epilogue

Hemlock looked down on the Wizard Tower from atop her father's tower. The former's battlements and glass atrium had once commanded a view of the entire City. But now her tower was the greater, and it blocked much of the horizon from view from within the smaller structure.

She stood on a platform of natural rock at the tower's very top. It was a cool night in the City and the moon was already descending to make way for the arrival of dawn. Far below her, she watched as a small boat proceeded slowly from the shore toward her tower. It left a gentle wake behind it, the ripples of which projected over the water beautifully.

Such is the nature of my work now. I cast stones into the water, and the ripples are felt far and wide.

She heard a joyous sound emanating from all around her. It was like a harp of glass played with angel hair strings rendering many layers simultaneously. A light was all around her—spinning and tumbling over the plateau.

She looked beside her and smiled. "This is a strong one, Tored. It almost seems to play as it approaches the final moment."

" _Yes, it's quite a spectacle,"_ said Tored from within the great suit of armor that had once been inhabited by the spirit of Julius, and later by Merit prior to his death in the battle with DuLoc. Hemlock recalled her surprise when the armor had been discovered intact. The idea to transfer Tored's spirit into it had been immediate and obvious. Hemlock, Gwineval, and Renevos had been close to sending Tored's spirit to its final rest rather than forcing it to live out a life imprisoned in a clockwork gnome. So the timing was fortuitous, and Tored seemed pleased by his new incarnation, immediately pledging to assist Hemlock for as long as she needed him.

"I know it's a lonely life here with me, Tored. It's been ten years since we've left the tower. But I never tire of watching this," she continued.

The spinning light began to sparkle as it rose, illuminating an increasingly tight circle as it climbed. It left a trail of patterns like a tapestry of snowflakes woven by pure energy as it reached a height of several hundred yards above the apex of the tower. Then, with a triumphant flash, it burst skyward and was gone.

" _It is nice,_ " he said softly.

"Tored, did it ever occur to you that I once sought to topple towers, but now I stand atop the greatest of them all, conducting my affairs in secret?" said Hemlock.

" _The thought has crossed my mind. But I know you've given these matters a lot of thought. I respect your decisions._ "

"My father was not secretive when he lived in this tower. He walked among the people and encouraged their spiritual development. He tried to help them and guide their lives. But I've chosen a different path," she said, pausing as if awaiting feedback.

Tored was impassive, so she continued.

"When I went to the higher realm, I saw that very few souls had passed through this world and been purified. Births there were still alarmingly infrequent. I have given this a lot of thought. How can there be a test of true free will if the parameters of the test are understood? So, I have decided to conduct my stewardship in secrecy. The presence of the tower alone should hint at some greater purpose. But I cannot help the people in any obvious way. My aid, when given, must always be undetectable and attributable to random chance. Do you understand that, Tored? Do you understand that it pains me that this world must be like this, but that I see no alternative?" she asked, almost pleadingly.

" _It makes sense, Hemlock. Do not be troubled by your decision. Souls are ascending with regularity now. Your approach is working,_ " Tored replied.

She was comforted by his words. Her gaze returned to the lake below. The boat was getting closer to the tower.

"He's here again, Tored."

" _I know. Should I bring him up as usual?"_

"Yes, please," she replied with a sigh.

He started to leave but then paused.

" _Do you think he'll finally choose to die this time?"_

"He'll surely ask me. And I won't refuse for my own sake, if that's what you're asking me."

The helmeted head turned and nodded with a gentle creak, and then he turned back and walked off.

She watched Tored, his great suit polished to the point where none of the varnish of battle remained, walk over the surface of the uneven rock to the far edge where an opening led to a staircase that spiraled downward along the outside wall of the tower on the inner side.

She walked over, struck by a sudden desire to watch Falignus as he ascended.

She stood, looking down into the tower for what seemed like a long time. Sheets of water cascaded down over the inside wall through innumerable recessed shelves formed by natural rock. Each rocky opening held a spark of light and projected a vision of a soul's progress along the path to spiritual enlightenment and ascension to the higher realm of her father.

Far below, at the base of the tower, she saw Falignus begin to climb as Tored led him.

She shook her head from side to side, taking pity on her former lover. She still loved him, although the part of her that was still capable of mortal love was now a minority in the wider fabric of her avatar spirit. He still loved her, of that she was sure.

For every year, give or take a few days, his same pattern of behavior repeated itself. He would become so agitated by his desire to see her and to understand his role in the universe that he would come to the tower. Sometimes he would try to use deception to enter. And sometimes he would simply eschew magic altogether, like he had this time.

The conversation that followed his appearance at the tower usually followed the same script. This was because the secrets revealed inside the tower could never return to the mortal world outside. So, when she finally had to send him away, he would forget the entire experience by the time he reached the shores of the lake. His soul would be at peace—but only for a time. And the cycle would repeat itself.

She watched as he climbed the stairs, pausing at times to gaze into the waters and see the reflection of his own life—both through his own eyes and through those around him. She knew he also saw his past incarnations and gained full memory of them.

She knew this would take a heavy emotional toll on him and that he would be raw and introspective by the time he finally reached her at the top.

Eventually, he reached the top of the tower and strode toward her in disbelief.

She approached him and hugged him.

He released her reluctantly after several moments.

"How can you live like this?" he whispered.

"I have changed, Falignus. The return passage I made after I died changed me."

"Do you still love me?" he asked. "That's all that matters. If you do, you can leave this cold place and come live with me in peace."

She smiled a sorrowful smile. "I do still love you, but it will never be the way it was. It cannot be. And my work here is too important. I could never leave it. To do so would mean abandoning my father's purpose."

He snarled a reply. "Your father's purpose! What about your purpose? Your life? Your happiness? Would a father who loves his daughter make her give that up?"

"He didn't ask me to give up my mortal happiness. That died with me when I passed on. I am just an echo of that former Hemlock. It's confusing because I look the same, but I'm not. You know that. You remember the time we spent together when you last drank my blood."

He shuddered and then clenched his fists. He looked away and his eyes focused up like he was deep in thought. "There has to be a way," he muttered.

"There isn't a way for us to be together out there," she said tenderly. "Did you see the light at the top of the tower as you approached? That was a spirit ascending to my father's realm. That is the reason for this entire City and every realm surrounding it. That is our collective higher purpose."

He shook his head. "So, you sit in this tower and preside over people's lives? What gives you the right? What gave your father the right? If he created us, then why can't he help us and guide us through our struggles?"

"I am his hand in this world. I guide people and sometimes intervene, though my hand is transparent. Yet its force can be felt if not seen," she said.

"I am out in the world. I help people through direct action!" he shouted.

"Yes, you foment rebellion against me. You sow doubt about the essence of faith. You even incite people to burn temples. Is this how you help people?"

"You control people. This world is your father's and your little experiment. How many souls are purified in this so-called great machine he's built? What of all the other lives? Why can't we tell people what is really going on in this tower? Why must you return me to the City in ignorance?"

"This world is about choice. Choices must be made in an atmosphere of freedom. Otherwise, they are not really choices. The ignorance my father's tower enforces is required to engender free will. The veil of secrecy cannot be penetrated until such time that a soul attains purity."

"And how long will this experiment continue? And what of us imperfect beings who continue to reincarnate without achieving full attainment?"

She looked downward. "I do not know whether every soul can ascend to my father's realm. But your question presupposes that this existence is meaningless even outside of that context. You also assume that this world and this City will come to some final end. That is not my understanding. I recall my father speaking of universes having offspring. I think this City will continue to exist should my father stop whatever process he's using to maintain it. I believe that is another goal of his—to ensure that this City is self-sustaining."

"It's a pretty significant point to just take on faith!"

"I've been surviving on faith alone since I returned."

He looked at her angrily and then an even darker expression came over his face. "You know, every tower falls eventually. Nothing is eternal. The Imperator wasn't. Even your father died in this realm. Remember when you first came and raided my tower down there? I was just as omnipotent then as you seem to be now. Someone will come and topple this tower one day."

"That may be. And if it is so, I hope that whatever follows won't lead to darkness. I will do everything I can to make sure that never happens here again."

His fists unclenched, and he began to look more contemplative.

Hemlock was painfully aware of the next topic they would likely discuss, based on prior conversations she'd had with Falignus.

"I want you to kill me," he said nonchalantly.

She paused for a few moments before replying. "If that is your wish, then I will send you on your journey to your next incarnation. It will pain me to do so, for I do enjoy seeing you even under these circumstances. Yet, I do not want to hold you back from your destiny. And you are not aging, as you suspect. You are effectively immortal because you consumed my blood."

It took him several moments to digest her comments. "Can you tell me my fate? My prescience has become useless in terms of seeing mine."

"If you choose to move on, you will be reborn in the City when you die. Your path is clouded beyond that. If you remain in your current incarnation with me, you may have a chance to ascend with me when that time finally comes. Then we could be together in my father's realm."

"Is that something you desire? For me to ascend with you?"

"Yes."

"Then that is my choice."

She wasn't surprised because he had answered this way several times already.

"But you are suffering in this incarnation," she said. "And you will go on suffering—possibly for centuries—until my father's task is done. Can you endure that? Eventually, everyone you know will die except for me. Gwineval, Otticus, Renevos—everyone. I do not wish for you to endure this—certainly not for my sake. You must understand what this choice condemns you to."

He considered these words, and his eyes seemed to glaze over as if he was deep in thought. Suddenly, he fell to his knees and grasped his head with both hands. He wailed a cry of anguish. She rushed over and held him.

"The visions I saw as I climbed. I saw ages past, your father in his red robe, and the infancy of the City. I saw Julius before he took that name and suffered his father's derision. I understand it all now. Everything," he said in a voice thick with emotion.

"Yes," she said lovingly. "The realization is a shock for you every time. I would leave this tower at once if I thought it would ease your burden. But I can't go back across the chasm I've crossed. There's no way I can help you."

"I was the Imperator," he whispered.

"Yes, you are a reincarnated shard of his consciousness. You are a part of him that has not given itself over to darkness and recoiled from my father's creation. If you can endure these long, lonely centuries with me, then you will ultimately know redemption. But if the suffering is too great, you can reincarnate now. You may find an easier path that way."

"But I would risk never finding enlightenment that way—without you. And is there a chance I might not succeed and that hateful version of me would remain in control?"

"Yes. That would be a possibility," she said gently.

"Then my choice is clear. I must endure," he said.

"I know," she replied.

She helped him up and took his hand. They walked together toward the steps leading down. "Do not look into the water if the visions trouble you," she said as she led him down the great stairway until there was a side passage leading to another stair. The air around them was heavy with a vibrant energy, and she was forced to pull him along at points when the cacophony of the convergence of soul energies became overwhelming for him.

They climbed the other stair and emerged on the lower plateau of the tower. Tored stood there, his armored body shining in the moonlight. Seeing them approaching, he bowed to them deeply and then retired down the stairs.

"Time is short for you—you must leave before dawn," she said after Tored had been gone for several minutes.

"I see," he said.

"The part of me that still reflects the old me can help ease your suffering. In doing so, I can catch a glimpse of the beauty of how I used to be. Help me to help you," she whispered, holding him close.

The moon shone down on the two of them, and Hemlock dreamed of the time before she had changed. Great, colored lights appeared over the tower, and the currents of their joy reverberated through the entire City and into every subordinate realm in the great spiral cloud of worlds that surrounded it.

In later centuries, when no one alive remembered Hemlock and Falignus, and their names had passed into legend, this night was anticipated and heralded as a great, annual solstice and the greatest holiday of the essence faith.

_Learn more about the author at_ http://www.wiztower.com _._

