

The Sword and the Flame:

The Forging

By

CP Bialois

Copyright 2012

Published by Smashwords 2013

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. An unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, electronic or mechanical, photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and situations are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To my family and friends for giving me a reason to push through. Of course, I can't forget my wife or she'd kill me. Love you, dear.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Two and a half years ago I began this journey and thanks to more people than I can name, I made it through. I'd like to thank Rick Weber, Etheridge Lovett, and a slew of others for their efforts to help this work be all that it can.

To Mark Stone, Shay Fabbro, Michael Hicks, and many more for helping me laugh. You guys helped me to not take myself or the book too seriously.

Special thanks go to Audrey Haney for the cover art and Jamie White for editing.

Thank you all. This is for you.

Chapter 1

"That's right folks step right up and pick something you'd like. Maybe for that special girl, something for your wife... an anniversary is a terrible thing to forget... or maybe you just want to treat yourselves? We have it all or my name isn't Clay Morrow."

The people of the small city of Hope gathered around him like he'd cast some kind of spell on them. They slobbered over his trinkets like a starving man would a loaf of bread. The Halfling watched the large jovial man work the crowd, amazed at the apparent lack of control these people showed. Janessa had been sitting there for the past few minutes with her arms crossed watching him disapprovingly. How dare he do such a thing! It was clear to see his trinkets were shoddy and worthless. She stole far more reputable items from one of the city's officials just the other day. People like this Morrow fellow gave any respectable thief a bad name. At least the barrel she sat on was comfortable.

"Still pouting, Jenny? What's he ever done to you?" The voice behind her belonged to Viola, her lone human friend and amateur mage. Viola always dreamed of becoming a great mage, imagining her name being spoken in the same sentence as Mortikye, Grassimore, or Killdare. Fate could be cruel as thus far her dreams hadn't come close to being realized. Only twenty, she wasn't quite old enough to expand her knowledge beyond the most rudimentary of spells. That was what her master, an older wizard named Poumous, told her. He'd been her instructor for close to ten years before she grew impatient enough to attempt a spell that only the most powerful of wizards could hope to use with any success. Her impatience led to half of her master's laboratory being blown apart when she lost control of the magic. Since she hadn't died in the accident, though none could explain why, she'd been sent home for her summer break early with the rest of the students. She had no doubt she'd be welcomed back, Poumous did appreciate the weight of gold in his purse, but she wasn't sure she wanted to go back.

Master Poumous developed a reputation over the years as running his school more like a boarding house than a magic school. In fact, most respectable mages refused to have anything to do with him or his pupils as they were always behind in their studies, due in large part to Poumous' laughable teaching ability. Despite his reputation, Albia Poumous displayed enough for the conclave to allow him to continue. They preferred to clean up his mess instead of having him stay with them in the Tower within the walls of Tagon Keep. With permission to teach his methods, Poumous would collect the gold it cost to maintain the school, without a care as to where or how it was procured.

The latter would've been of great interest to the Conclave had they known one of his students performed as an illusionist to afford the scrolls and spell books needed in Master Poumous' curriculum. Thus was how Viola, a street urchin that carried herself with dignity, could afford such a school. With none better for more than fifty miles and no way to travel aside from her own two feet, she'd take what she could from the good master.

Performing illusions for the masses was how she met Janessa, Jenny to her friends. Viola had been performing when she noticed the Halfling making her way through the crowd. Afterwards, she confronted the Halfling and found her pouches full of valuables. The two hit it off from the start and became fast friends, once Janessa knew Viola wasn't going to turn her over to the Sheriff. As close as they were, neither one trusted the other in the beginning. Janessa worried she'd wake to find the city's guards there to arrest her and Viola was as worried that one day her spell components, scrolls, and spell books would all be gone.

Janessa's parents disappeared when she was very young, making her an outcast for most of her life. She never knew what happened to them as rumors spread through her people like wild fire and seemed to have a different twist with each retelling. Some claimed they were arrested while others said they'd been hung for stealing. The third, and the one Janessa decided to be the most likely story, was they just up and left her in the town of Solm. While Halflings were considered many things, they were always responsible for themselves and their family. Some believe it's a lesson learned the hard way as they were one of the smallest creatures on Pyrain. Resembling human children at the age of twelve but with pointed ears, the Halflings never grew to be tall or stocky. The tallest on record stood just under four feet and weighed ninety pounds, quite large for a pure-blooded Halfling.

With their size being a Halfling's greatest weakness, they turned it into a strength by traveling in groups ranging in size up to ten people but ate little more than the average human family of three. By remaining together and moving from one place to the next they were ignored by the other races. Humans thought them to be pests and so they tried to ignore them as much as possible. Dwarves, both hill and mountain, viewed them as insults due to their smaller statures and inability to properly swing an axe or hammer. The Elves treated them like they treated any other race, as vermin they had to tolerate.

Janessa, like the rest of her kind, loved challenges such as picking locks, stealing valuable items without getting caught (though doing so under a Sheriff or Marshall's nose was considered the best), and the adventure of traveling and seeing far off lands. But unlike herself and others of her kind, Janessa's parents displayed none of those characteristics. They were content to live a peaceful life in Solm until the day they disappeared without a trace. A kind human named Vin Morth adopted and raised her until she was old enough to begin the search for her parents. Morth was a family friend for years until Janessa accepted her "Uncle" Morth as her guardian and grew into a lovely young woman. Though her kind ages slower than humans, some living to be two hundred, their early development is the same as human children with the exception they're full grown by the time they reach thirteen years of age.

It was at the age of ten that Janessa first wanted to leave to find her family, but she hesitated in doing so. While she was certain her parents left her for some unknown reason, she was just as sure they'd come back for her like they always did in the fairy tales Uncle Morth read to her each night at bedtime. Janessa didn't want to leave the one person she felt could be counted on but by her way of thinking, if her parents wanted her they would've been back by then. With her mind made up, she left with a heavy heart and spent the last eight years traveling throughout the Kingdom of Angor in search of her place. Over time, her path led through other kingdoms until finding the small crossroads city of Hope. An interesting name, she remembered thinking as she entered. As with everywhere else she'd been no one noticed her, at least until she did something they didn't appreciate. Using their blindness, she earned quite a comfortable lifestyle over the last few years. Rarely was anyone able to catch her, and if they did she'd apologize and claim she was looking for her mother and father. Several local Magistrates felt sympathy for her and gave her money to stay in the local inn while they make the proper contacts to try to find them. Since many believed she was only a child, and a little crying always helped, she described her parents as they were but as humans. Then she'd run off and it'd be called a tragedy.

There'd been times where it hadn't worked out quite that well, usually in cities or border towns that attracted the different peoples of Pyrain. For one reason or another, she would be identified as a Halfling and thrown in jail. Due to her talents, and other Halflings in the area, she was never expected to remain in jail for long. It was an unspoken rule with the Halflings: Now you have me, now you don't.

Hope happened to be one of those cities where she wasn't seen as a Halfling until an officer named Tavers was promoted to Sheriff. Since then, Janessa made sure to hide anything she stole before being discovered. That was until the young mage Viola happened upon her. Though she didn't know why, Janessa liked something about the human and while Viola's magic needed a lot more work, Janessa decided having her as a friend wouldn't be something she'd regret.

'What's he ever done to you?' She said. Janessa thought, irritated. The Halfling let out a harrumph. "Guys like him give my kind a bad name."

Viola looked at the merchant then back to her friend. "I don't follow."

Janessa threw up her hands in disgust, "Thieves. He makes all of us honest thieves look bad. 'Welcome ladies and gentlemen' what a load of shit!"

Viola nodded and did her best to hold back her smile. "He offers them something they want. He does seem quite charming."

Janessa glared at her friend with venom in her eyes but that was all Viola could take before she burst into laughter. After a moment she wiped tears from her eyes, "There's still honor among thieves. He's just better at it than we are."

Janessa smiled, letting out a giggle, "But that's the point. He's killing us."

Viola shrugged, "Maybe some warts..." Her smile faded somewhat when she saw the look on Janessa's face. "No."

"Come on."

"No."

"It'll be fun."

Viola turned away, hurrying down the alley to put some distance between them. "Oh no you don't. Last time I tried that it took a month for me to get rid of them."

Janessa leapt down and followed her friend, trying to convince her to try it. "Don't cast it near a mirror this time." Viola gave her a look, but the playful side of the Halfling was coming out again. "It wasn't that bad. At least your dance card was empty." She failed to suppress a snicker, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. Wouldn't it be fun to see someone else look like a toad? Viola!" She kept up her efforts until both broke into laughter.

Laughing until both their sides hurt, the pair sat or leaned against something to keep from falling. Viola was the first to speak, wiping tears from her eyes. "Casting spells is very serious, I can't just cast them for fun."

Though Viola tried to make herself sound serious, it didn't come out the way she intended. Janessa understood what she meant, which was why she only teased her. It never failed to amaze Janessa how much time her friend needed to study each day. It seemed such a waste for one to spend so much idle time studying the same spells over and over each night. Viola explained she needed to reread each spell several times until it accepted her and would allow her to cast it. Janessa never believed her reasoning from the first moment she'd been told that. Why would someone have to state a spell perfectly? She believed it should work anyway; it was an opinion Viola never had any success at getting the Halfling to change no matter how hard she tried to explain it. Viola believed Janessa was unable to grasp the scope of power a mage could wield. Janessa, on the other hand, understood. She just believed life was more fun to live rather than spend it reading a spell book. Nope, you couldn't pay her enough to try her hand at magic.

Janessa chuckled before she responded, "How hard could it be? Two words?" She continued staring at her friend until Viola's smile broadened.

"It's not, a single toad stool would suffice—"

Janessa threw up her hands, "You see? I knew it!" She smacked her friend on the arm. "Even I could do it."

Viola shook her head, this was the same argument she heard everyday and she learned to take it as it was meant. She knew if anyone else talked about her passion in such a manner she really would give them warts... if she was in a good mood. Trying to change the subject, Viola motioned to her friend. "Planning on being around for my exhibition later today?"

Janessa took the hint and let the conversation go in a different direction. She never missed Viola's show if she could help it. People tipped her well after seeing her magic tricks, even if they were slight of hand, but not that time. She shook her head knowing it'd hurt the young mage. "A new group arrived late last night. Rumor has it they're pit fighters and the Sherriff has forbidden them to enter the city. They're opening tonight near the southern forest."

As Janessa expected, Viola was hurt, but more disgusted than insulted that her friend would miss her show for something so barbaric. Setting a withering glare on the Halfling she let her feelings be known. "Really Jenny, I thought you had better taste than to watch those things."

Janessa smiled, "All those books and they haven't taught you anything." Taking a deep breath before she continued, she had to repair hurt feelings as well as sell her idea. "Pit fighting is barbaric, but I'm not going to watch the matches." Pausing until Viola's face twisted into a curious expression, Janessa set the hook. "In a single night one can win a hundred gold pieces if they pick the right combatant.

Viola's mouth dropped open, a hundred gold pieces? In a single night? She'd consider herself lucky if she saw a hundred copper pieces in a year. Just as fast as the amount of gold caused her to lose control she clamped down on those thoughts with the weight of her iron will. "And how would you do that? You're not a gambler."

Janessa's expression changed into one of thoughtfulness, she already had a plan but it'd have to look like she came up with it on the spot. After she felt Viola waited long enough, Janessa smiled as if she just had a stroke of genius. "You could come with!"

Viola looked at her for a moment before a grin broke across her face and she shook her head. "Oh no, I'm not going to use my magic to decide the winners."

"Why not? No one would know!" Janessa's exasperated reaction wasn't an act. Viola guessed her plan, as she hoped she would, but she was supposed to go along with it. The Halfling's mind raced for an alternative idea, Viola could be stubborn and Janessa knew she wouldn't have much, if any, success in talking her out of it.

An idea came to Janessa before Viola could voice her opinion, and by the look on her face it wouldn't have been pleasant. "We don't need your magic anyway." Viola's look turned inquisitive but she knew a "but" was to come. Such a shame I never thought of becoming a trader Janessa thought to herself, I have such a talent for it. "You study living things don't you? Their physique and all that, right?"

Viola paused for a moment before answering. "Yes, joints and ligaments and their form of locomotion." She knew Janessa was up to something but she had no idea what. All mages studied the way living things moved and grew. In doing so it helped them in their understanding about spell components, healing herbs, and others services.

Janessa leaned forward, "All you have to do is watch each fighter before their match and tell me who looks like a winner. It's that easy!"

Various doubts kept eating away at Viola, one after another crept into her mind. "What about Sherriff Tavers? Won't he have something to say about this?"

Janessa snorted, "Gods no, he already made them set up outside the city's walls. His authority ends with the city limits. At worst he may try to catch everyone returning to force them to pay taxes on their winnings. We'll just be sure to avoid him."

Janessa didn't go on about how everyone else in town would be trying to do the same thing and with only one way into the city, that being the main gate, it'd be a difficult task to avoid him. But then the walls were only ten feet high, just high enough to make bandits and other outlaws wary of attempting anything underhanded.

"What if he catches us?"

Janessa rolled her eyes, "He won't. Trust me okay? You want in?" She wanted, no, needed, her friend to come. Even if they didn't win anything they could still earn something through their talents. Plus it'd be good for Viola to get out at least once in a while. Janessa could tell her friend was about to refuse so she threw in her last card, it had to work.

"Of course they also sell items, like weapons and scrolls. We could always shop for souvenirs with our winnings."

At the word "scrolls" Viola's eyes began to sparkle. "Do they have magic scrolls?"

YES! Janessa shrugged as she celebrated in her heart. "I guess. They always have merchants at these things."

"I'll go."

Janessa smiled, "We can leave in a couple of hours and see what they're setting up." Looking back on it, she was rather pleased with herself. Bartering was so easy, although not as much fun as being a thief. One did what they did for more than money, the adventure being where it was at for her.

Chapter 2

The scene outside the protective walls of Hope was impressive the closer one drew to the small meadow by the Southern Forest. A tent city, a third the size of Hope, appeared in less than a day's time. The various workers and stand holders too poor to afford a wagon slept in the small tents with no more than a couple of feet between them. Across from the tents sat wagons of all sizes belonging to the wealthy merchants. Lined along both sides of the wide alley were pavilions of various sizes and colors creating a thoroughfare that lead prospective customers past the available wares on their way to the large pits that were dug out for the upcoming fights.

Items of every description could be found under the pavilions along both sides of Main Street, the name given to the thoroughfare. The size and diversity of the stalls put the market place in Hope to shame, which wasn't lost on one of those walking through the once open field. Janessa wondered at the scene in silence, allowing her eyes to take in everything. She paused by one stand filled with some of the finest rings, goblets and other metal objects whose craftsmanship was unparalleled. It was little surprise to her when a dwarf stepped forward as she drew nearer. Dwarves were renowned for their metallurgy skill across the realm, but it was the first time she'd ever seen one. He was about six inches taller than her but twice her size in bulk. She found it shocking that he didn't look fat or clumsy, but solid and sure of himself.

"What can I do for you lass?" The Dwarf was just over a hundred years old and noticed a minimal amount of gray hairs in his fiery red beard that morning, at seeing the Halfling he was certain he'd find more.

Janessa used her warmest smile on the Dwarf. "Thank you sir, but I'm just looking."

Now, in his hundred years on Pyrain he'd seen many things most took for myths, but one thing he was certain of was he knew a thief when he saw one. So it was then he decided to watch her at all cost. "As you wish, but I'm afraid I don't have much of anything that you could use or wear."

She understood his hidden meaning: "you're not welcome". Instead of being insulted by his remarks, her smile broadened and her voice sounded sincere. "Thank you sir, your help is always appreciated." She was about to leave when she spotted a small dagger, a perfect compliment to the Halfling sword hanging on the wall in the room she shared with Viola. She picked it up, smiling as the sunlight shone off the blade causing it to glow. "How much is this?"

Damn it she spotted something! As soon as those words ran through his mind, his heart leapt into his throat watching her pick up the white steel dagger. At the sound of her inquiry he couldn't help but allow the bartering side of him to step forward. "Ah, you have good taste, lass. That's a white steel blade, one of the rarest metals you'll find. Twenty gold."

The price was high for a dagger, but Janessa couldn't forget how beautiful it was when struck by the sun. Mesmerized by its beauty, she swore the blade called to her, causing her to hesitate before responding. When her gaze turned to the Dwarf her cunning instinct was no longer distracted. "Twenty gold? I could buy a sword fresh from the forge for that." She tried to look indignant, it sometimes worked. "I can't see it being more than five gold... if that."

The Dwarf smiled, he made the price that high hoping to scare her off but she had some spunk. He loved a challenge. At her offer of five, it was his turn to look indignant. "That may be so, but I guarantee you won't get craftsmanship of this quality." Reaching out he and plucked it from her fingers, an act he was surprised proved so easy. "Humans and Elves can't come close to this, she's worth every bit." He paused as if he was lost in thought.

"Sixteen gold." Janessa offered, smiling. This was going to be a fun day.

*****

Viola watched the exchange for a few minutes with mild amusement. While she wasn't much of a trader, she did find it interesting to watch others as they attempted to outwit each other. It reminded her of her craft in a way. Throughout history, mages have opposed each other on the battlefield and the outcome of the battles hinged, not only on the power the mages could wield, but on their ability to control it and think as they conjured the counter spells. Knowing her history, it came as a surprise to her that bartering held such little interest for her.

Before long she became bored with the exchange and began to glance around at the other merchants and their wares. It didn't take her long to find something of interest. A couple stands over, an elderly man stood over various trinkets and books set out on a plank table. Viola thought about waiting for Janessa, but her curiosity got the better of her and she walked over to his table.

"Good afternoon my dear, how may I help you?" The old man's pleasant voice and warm smile helped her feel more comfortable and relaxed. He reminded her of her own grandfather and for a moment they seemed to be the same person to her. She couldn't help but return his smile.

"Thank you sir. I'm just browsing at the moment." Her eyes went to the trinkets, nothing of value to her as far as she could see, then to the books. These were the true treasures, books on herbology, mystical lore and animal husbandry to name a few.

The elderly man watched her face light up when she saw his old textbooks. "Ah, I knew it when I saw you."

Viola's face twisted into a look of confusion, "What?" She became aware she may have done something to offend the merchant.

"No, no my child. I didn't mean anything like that." He couldn't help but smile and laugh to himself at the sudden look of terror on her face. He wondered if he'd been mistaken. No, he hadn't been wrong, her destiny was set. There was a lot for her to learn before she was ready for the path fate had prepared for her.

He saw some of her tension disappear with his gentle assurance. Being more relaxed allowed him to see her as she truly was, or rather as she was meant to be. Feeling she needed more, he allowed a small laugh to escape. "You must forgive me, sometimes I'm far to blunt."

Her unease disappeared and she returned his smile. "No it was my fault. I just..." Her voice trailed off while her mind tried to grasp what had happened. I just panicked, that's what! She was angry at herself for not having more control.

The merchant watched her while she chewed on her lip. Probably out of embarrassment and anger at herself. He suppressed a chuckle at the thought. With a great ease he guided her towards the books that caused their current situation. "I knew when I saw you that you were coming for these books."

Viola's eyes widened, she hadn't realized she'd been so eager for them, but she did feel drawn to them like a moth to a flame. It took a little effort for her to speak as her mind raced to figure out what was wrong with her. "Yes, I find them very interesting. Especially Herbology."

The merchant smiled, "I understand. It's not easy to be a mage in the world today. Unless you're powerful and serve a king, herbology is one of the honest ways to make a living."

Viola flushed, she never thought of it that way. Her interest was for the knowledge of the craft and to grow her own spell components. "Something like that."

The merchant smiled, she seemed so naive he couldn't help but to think of her as his own granddaughter. At least she didn't have any predetermined mindset about how things should be. "I think you'll find these books indispensable during your studies. In time, you'll learn to unlock their secret power."

Viola continued smiling but her mind focused on his words. Was he trying to tell her something? She shook her head, she was beginning to sound like Janessa. Behind every spoken word wasn't always a hidden meaning. She set the herbology book aside and began to look through the others. She could feel the merchant's eyes watching her but she pushed away the awkwardness while she browsed. Had she looked up she would've noticed the intensity in his eyes as he tried to will her to pick the correct books.

*****

"You drive a hard bargain, lass." The Dwarf, whose name Janessa learned was Galin during the bartering, narrowed his eyes. It'd been quite some time since he last met one that could match him stroke for stroke when it came to money. The truth was, he was about to make a profit on the dagger. She'd view it as a cunning victory, but he knew the truth. He was still the best.

Janessa stood in front of the Dwarf, her face alive with the exchange of offers, counter offers, and the occasional curse from Galin. "Eight pieces, that's my final offer." She was certain he was feigning his indignation for Dwarves had a reputation for never taking a loss in any negotiation, no matter how trifling it may be. Although watching Galin's face turn bright red on a couple of occasions made her wonder if he followed the same legend or was he a rare occurrence for Dwarves.

It took a few seconds for the light headedness to pass from the sudden blood flow into his head. Moments like those filled him with pride, were he human he'd be in the theater. "Fine lass, we have a deal then?" The Halfling nodded her head in triumph, as he expected. He watched her count out the eight gold pieces into his hand. When she got to the eighth and final piece she paused before letting it drop. He recognized the look in her eyes, she just spent a years worth of money if she was a farmer. Buyer's remorse was a constant irritant to him. People always wanted their money back moments after they thought they had the deal of a lifetime. "Spent more than you wanted lass? Sorry, I don't give discounts for buyer's remorse."

Janessa glanced up at him and shrugged, "I know, I thought I had more." The Halfling's mood changed into one of enthusiasm. "Still got more than enough for the fights. Bye." She turned and trotted off with her new dagger and change purse.

Galin watched her for a moment as what she said registered. A Halfling betting on the pit fights? That could prove to be dangerous for the other gamblers. Halflings weren't known to lose many bets and even if they did, they usually reacquired their money and then some. "Hold up lass!" He stepped out of his stand to try to catch her. He wasn't sure why, but he liked her and would hate to see her swinging from the nearest tree. He lost sight of her before going two steps and, unwilling to leave his items out in the open, he returned to his perch. He knew where she'd be later on, but he didn't understand his role in her life. Since when did he care about a Halfling? In Particular one that may get him hung as an accomplice. "Damn Halflings, more trouble than they're worth." Galin muttered as he began to close up his store.

*****

"A wise choice my dear." The merchant nodded satisfied. He watched with boundless patience while the young mage looked through the small stack of books. She glanced over them, only taking time to read the parts that interested her. Yes, he was surer than ever before that she was the one. The fact she selected the herbology and mythical lore books was proof of that. Only one with as great a potential as the brown robed mage before him would've been drawn to them.

Pleased with herself, Viola smiled at him. "How much are they?" She wanted them, that much she knew but she wasn't sure why. She could feel the magic flowing from them, guiding her hands to their covers. The sensation was like a mother handing her child a fresh baked cake to eat. Love and kindness flowed from them and into her. Knowing Master Poumous would tell her she imagined it and that books of their nature held no magic. She wondered why someone would go to the trouble of enchanting them. There were many things her master was knowledgeable in, but she knew he would be wrong in this.

The old man smiled at the wanting in her eyes. "Five copper each."

Viola's eyes widened and her mouth fell open in surprise. "That's all?" Books such as those cost at least a silver piece, maybe two. The price seemed too good to be true and after a moment her enthusiasm began to fade.

Sensing the change in the young mage he smiled, disarming any misgivings. "Have no fear child, these books are old. If anything they're worth less. Besides..." he paused looking into her eyes, "they were mine when I was about your age. I want you to have them. It'd be such a shame if someone bought them only to toss them out in a year or so. I know you'll take good care of them."

The last part caused her face to flush. Aside from Janessa, Viola never experienced anyone showing so much faith and trust in her. Even if it was just a couple of books, it meant the world to her. "Thank you... I don't know what to say."

The old man smiled, "Your gratitude is enough, child." He accepted the coins from her and put them in a small pouch tied to the sash around his waist. She noticed the aged gray robes she mistook before for traveling attire. Viola knew she needed to be more observant of the world around her. It was alright, there was plenty of time for her to improve.

"Viola! Viola you gotta see this!" Janessa's call caused the young mage to flush with embarrassment when she was about to thank the man again. Seeing the Halfling, he smiled and waved his hand to dismiss the interruption.

"Think nothing of it. But I must warn you, if other mages see you with a thief they may make things difficult." The smile of Viola's eyes was replaced with a cold resolve. He could see his warning was late in coming. "I see. Well, who are they to judge, am I right?" He smiled, helping the good natured happiness to return to her eyes. "If ever you need anything, spells, books or have questions to ask, come to see me."

"I thought you were with the rest here?" Viola was confused. She assumed the merchants followed the fighters across the country.

The old man chuckled, "Heavens no, many of us just happen to cross paths here and there. I've been thinking of settling down somewhere peaceful for my retirement."

"Oh that'd be great! Old man Winston has a room for rent in town." Neither of them noticed Janessa's approach after her initial hail to her friend. She came upon them as the merchant, a bit old for her taste, finished talking. Without hesitation she offered what help she could, since it was obvious he and Viola were friends of sorts. That made him one of her friends as well. Such was the enjoyment of having a Halfling as a friend.

Though Janessa's sudden appearance startled her, Viola was quick to recover. "He didn't say he was staying, just thinking about it." Viola appeared calm but inside she was elated. She couldn't remember the last time it felt like her soul was doing flips. Having another magic user in Hope, and one willing to help her outside of the school, was an answer to her prayers. "But there is a room open." She finished as she clung to her hope.

Ah, the impetuousness of youth. He remembered those times very well. With a hearty smile he bowed his head. "Thank you for your assistance my dear. I shall look into it." Viola's heart leapt for joy. "Now, I don't want to be rude, but the first fight will be starting soon. You only have a few minutes to place your bets."

Janessa's eyes opened wide, "I nearly forgot, thank you sir." She paused before running off, "Do you know who's fighting?"

"Janessa!" Viola's shout was a mixture of anger and amazement, though she thought the latter was impossible after what she'd seen her friend do often enough. She was wrong.

Janessa returned the look with her own shrill reply. "It couldn't hurt to ask!"

The old man raised his hand, part of him enjoyed the scene. "If I may be so bold, bet on the Minotaur. He hasn't lost yet."

Janessa's eyes gleamed in the afternoon light. "Thank you sir! C'mon Viola, we don't have much time!"

Viola allowed the smaller Halfling to pull her away. "Thanks again for the books."

Watching the two of them run down the throughway, or Main Street, he smiled to himself. The last thing he heard was the Halfling telling her friend he was too old, if they only knew.

Chapter 3

The most barbaric form of entertainment on Pyrain was also one of the most lucrative in the gambling world. As brutal as the fights themselves were, the area around the combatants was equally as dangerous. The pits were no more than ten feet across, seven feet deep, and lined with rocks along the top edge. The rocks were meant to build a solid edge along the top of the pit but they were often used as weapons if a combatant lost their own. Above, people would line up as much as twenty deep to see the fights, often leading to those in the front being pushed in on top of the fighters. For some unfortunate ones that often meant they were beaten and sometimes killed. People of all sorts attended the fights as the company moved across the land in search of fertile ground to build an audience. As people from the city of Hope began to gather around the pit pieces of gold, and sometimes more, changed hands. In many ways, it was a thief's paradise, one which the two friends entered, taking a pair of seats at one of the corners. From there they watched, and hoped, their fortune would be made.

The first fight went just as the old mage turned merchant had predicted. Although their winnings were small, everyone watching the fight saw their first dismemberment. The Minotaur were well known for their violent tempers. When one felt the rage building they often let out a horrific roar. It was a sound that caused even the most battle hardened men to pause. Such had been the case with the Minotaur's opponent. The human warrior hesitated a breath too long during which time his arms were ripped from his body. Lost in its rage, the Minotaur beat the dying man into a shapeless mound of flesh with his own arms.

The sight proved too much for Viola. She turned away, entertaining thoughts of leaving. Violence like that was beneath her, as a mage she preferred the weapons of her craft to those of the beasts. She took several long, deep breaths before she decided to remain. If not for Janessa's constant assurances such an act rarely happened, Viola would've left and never looked back. Rationalizing her friend needed her there to help keep track of their winnings, she remained in her seat. An added incentive was a Halfling wouldn't stand a chance in that type of environment. Pulling her robes tighter around her, Viola realized she just lied to herself. It was something one learned to do in that day and age. Few could afford to be honest, even with themselves. With a new resolve she settled down and continued to watch the next four fights, only one of which resulted in a death.

To help keep her mind occupied, Viola replayed the conversations the two friends had when they first came together earlier in the day. "They're so gruesome, how can you even think about taking part in it?" Viola argued her case after the initial excitement drained from her and the realization of what waited for them settled into her head.

True to her nature, Janessa remained her normal bubbly, optimistic, and assured self throughout it all. "Don't be such a Ninny!" Her voice rose to a higher pitch when she was excited. "No one dies at these things."

"They don't?" Viola's question was a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

"Sure... Well most don't. Only when two fighters hate each other enough that they both agree to fight to the death." Janessa's eyes lowered in sad thought before she continued with a shrug, "They have to settle their differences, I suppose. But that only happens between the lower fighters. The pit masters can't afford to have their best kill each other off, it's bad for business." Janessa crossed her arms, proud of herself for making such a well thought out argument. After a brief pause she added as offhanded as possible, "Of course there are accidents."

Viola's eyes narrowed at her friend. "Alright, then tell me one thing." Janessa nodded with a satisfied look in her eyes. "Just how do you know all this?" Viola knew she had her in a corner. The Halfling was a skilled liar but she made a point never to lie to her friends.

To Viola's surprise Janessa smiled, "There's more than one way to earn gold at those things."

"Jenny!" Was all Viola could say before bursting into laughter. She didn't share the same disdain for thieves that her fellow mages did. While she didn't like thieves, she wasn't about to starve and drop out of magic school in protest. She needed to eat and pay her bills, rules and stereotypes were made to be broken.

Viola couldn't help but smile at the memories as her mind moved back into the present. She looked over at Janessa and noticed she disappeared. Fearing the worst, she craned her neck trying to find her friend in the mass of people. Furious at not paying more attention, and at the Halfling's ability to disappear into a crowd, Viola was about to get up and search for Janessa when a small hand grabbed her right arm. Only a familiar voice stopped her from screaming at the top of her lungs.

"You should see the one fighter. He's a barbarian, I think." Janessa's eyes smiled at her.

"Where've you been?" Viola's relief hadn't quite overwhelmed the fear she felt a moment earlier. If one of those people caught Janessa trying to steal... She couldn't finish the thought.

Seeing the look of concern on her friend's face, Janessa gave her a quizzical look. "Placing a bet on the next fight." Her expression changed to one of wonderment, "Wait until you see him. He must be a God among us."

Even though relief flooded over her, Viola swore she'd watch her friend a bit more closely. She was worried about the look on Janessa's face. She knew its meaning and she hoped she was wrong. "Jenny, who'd you bet on?"

Janessa looked at her with whimsical eyes, "The human in the next match. He can't possibly lose."

Viola was about to say something when a horn announced the fighters for the next match. On the far side of the pit a rather large human leapt into the pit. His muscled body glistened with sweat in the torch light. "Oh." Was all Viola could say. Though he wasn't what she preferred, the man was handsome and she felt a power about him she couldn't place. The power wasn't magically based, or so she believed, but it was his presence. He commanded everything around him just by his proximity.

Viola felt good about the bet and hoped Janessa wagered more than the agreed amount on him. Her good feeling lasted until she saw the two other combatants. The first was a lizard man, from the Troglodyte tribes living in the southern part of the continent. The other was an ogre, black in color, it was from the deep recesses of the Calamir Mountain. The odds didn't seem to be in their favor. Concerned, she leaned close to the Halfling to whisper her question. She was sure she already knew the answer. "How much did you bet?"

"Hmm?" Janessa didn't hear her at first, her thoughts and eyes were on the human barbarian. "Oh... um... all of it. It's ten-to-one odds."

Viola's back went rigid at hearing her friend. "Oh... That's wonderful." Her thoughts changed from an expensive meal to their usual moldy bread and cheese. With any luck they could afford turnip stew.

"Yep." Janessa missed the young mage's slow comment. She assumed Viola was as enthralled as she was.

Viola shook her head and watched the fighters conclude their grandstanding for the fans and ready themselves for combat. Janessa was right; the human fighter was an impressive sight. She estimated him to be over six feet tall and was well muscled. She was sure he was a barbarian; few others grew as large or as powerful as the barbarian tribes on the southeastern plains. Viola assumed it was due to the inhospitable terrain and their hostile neighbors. When people live with ogres, giants, and Troglodytes on three of four possible sides it's only natural to grow so large and strong just to survive. Understanding their history a bit, Viola believed it would be an interesting match. Her assessment wasn't totally correct, but few around her could've corrected her.

A second later Janessa waved at the human fighter then turned back to Viola. "Think he saw me? I wonder why he didn't wave back."

Shaking her head in wonder, Viola couldn't help smiling at her friend's lack of composure. Janessa may be wiser in the ways of the world but the Halfling could never control herself around men, warrior types being the worst of all. "I'm sure he noticed, but he has to concentrate. This is a very difficult fight for him." And us, Viola didn't add as the three fighters began circling each other. Viola tended to forget others didn't read books like she did so the normal rivalry of the three in the pit would be lost to just about everyone.

Hoping for the best, Viola watched with a mix of anxiety anticipation when the ogre launched towards the Troglodyte first. The lizard man sidestepped the awkward strike, turning its attention to the human. Viola remembered reading that a few of the Troglodyte tribes had venomous bites and could spit their venom to blind their opponents. Any question to which clan the lizard man belonged was answered when the human ducked and a mouthful of venom missed his head. The sizzling sound the toxic saliva made when it struck the dirt wall of the pit took her breath away. If it'd been higher... She shivered when she thought what it might have done to someone's skin.

*****

A short distance away a stunted, stout middle-aged man named Renard watched the people cheering the fighters. "Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous! Don't you agree Fech?"

Behind Renard sat one of the few creatures he trusted, his pet gargoyle Fech. Raised by the human since the night he hatched, the gargoyle showed something his race was not noted for, loyalty and kindness. He accepted when his master was harsh with him on occasion, but what else was to be expected when he misbehaved? Those times proved to be few and far between as Fech did everything he could to please his master. Doing so brought rewards of kindness, unheard of by others, from the human. Fully grown, Fech chose to remain with his master instead of returning to his own kind. Those thoughts often came into his mind during moments when his master was truly happy making Fech felt justified in his reason to stay. Lost in his thoughts, the gargoyle hesitated before grunting his approval. "Yes, it is Master."

Renard smiled at the sound of his beloved pet's voice. The gargoyle's gravel filled, yet high pitched voice unnerved most humans when they heard it. Like a horrible accent, it took him the better part of ten years to not wince when he heard it. To his knowledge, or concern, Fech was the only one of his kind to speak Common.

Watching the fights helped Renard to feel pleased with himself, a few more shows like that one and he'd be welcomed anywhere. His men would then fight in real arenas, instead of having to dig out their own. If Renard had a weakness, it was his ambition. Never one to wait for something to come to him, he searched for any edge he could find to amass his wealth and to grow his reputation. "Soon they'll come from all over to see it." He tossed a dead squirrel towards Fech, who devoured it in seconds. "Soon we'll be welcomed... No... demanded to come into the Elven and Dwarven Kingdoms. All will marvel at the group of fighters I've amassed. Her majesty will invite us into Soleil itself. Can you see it Fech? All the nobles will pay to see my fighters." A warmth flowed over him at the thought. They'd all welcome him with smiles and open change purses. Within a few years he'd be one of the wealthiest men in the world. It wasn't often Renard felt so cheerful causing Fech to watch him, amused at the sight.

"You're overconfidence will lead you to ruin, Pit Master." The suddenness of the voice caught both of them off guard, and brought a growl from deep within the gargoyle. As his master's main body guard, Fech heard the voice countless times before then. Each time he disliked its owner even more.

Renard turned to face the intruder; his face burning with a dark shade of red. All those traveling with his company knew never to disturb him. "Damn you, Mern! How many times do I have to tell you not to disturb me? This will be the final time." Fech stood to his full ten feet and took a step towards the old man.

Mern held up his right hand as if to ward off a coming blow but his voice remained calm. "Oh now, there's no need for such a display. I merely came to give you news of a wonderful event."

Renard paused, thinking for a second. "Fech." At hearing his name, the gargoyle returned to his previous position but continued watching the merchant with a wary eye. The number of times the human dared to enter his master's presence without being summoned couldn't be easily counted by the gargoyle. Since the dawn of time, people misunderstood gargoyles to be stupid, slow witted creatures. Such a thought couldn't be further from the truth. Created by magical beings, they could feel magic as well as use it themselves. The fact they chose not to live among other beings was made knowing they were greater than most. Fech felt an enormous power emanating from the merchant, though Mern did his best to hide it. It was for that reason he hated the man. Renard wouldn't have believed his pet if he'd told him he was dangerous. Fech knew, he tried.

Not sensing the tension coming from the gargoyle, Renard stared at his unexpected guest for a long moment as though he didn't understand the meaning behind Mern's words. After a moment Renard responded. "And what great event is that, Mern?" He couldn't help but smile, he knew the old man had something planned and he wanted to know what it was.

Mern smiled. "I'm sorry to say that I'll be remaining here when you move on." He paused relishing the shocked look on Renard's face. "Hope is such a nice little city. Don't you think?"

At first Renard couldn't believe what he heard. No one ever left his company unless he decided they could leave. He was about to point that out when he realized he wouldn't have to deal with the dotting, meddlesome fool anymore. A smile matching Mern's appeared on Renard's face. "I completely agree, a quiet place to spend your retirement."

Mern nodded his white haired head, "I must admit I expected you to fight me on this. Our contract states--"

Renard interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "Forget about our contract, it has a clause that allows for this."

Mern's face changed in thought, "It does?" That roused his curiosity as to what the ringleader of that little circus was up to.

"Of course. If you read it you wouldn't have that look on your face." Renard's smile brightened even more, if possible. "Since you're unable to complete the circuit with us you are released from your commitment. You can expect no pay from this moment forth as agreed upon in our contract."

Mern's face changed to a deep and furious red color at having been outmaneuvered. He spun on his heel and stormed out of Renard's pavilion. When he was a few yards away the redness in his face disappeared and a smile took its place. It was worth degrading myself for all these months. Let the fool think he's won. He's nothing but an insect. Mern strode away confident in his destiny.

*****

"That's how you handle negotiations. With a firm iron hand." Fech continued listening to his master give his lecture to no one in particular. Fech's glowing red eyes followed the old merchant until he moved out of the gargoyle's sightline. He was up to something, Fech was sure of it, otherwise Mern would've fought harder for his wages. Many a night, Fech witnessed the two arguing over a piece of silver for hours. Often, Mern would threaten to turn Renard into a cockroach and the latter dared him to do it. Yes, Fech realized he'd have to keep an eye on the mage pretending to be a merchant. Until then it hadn't concerned him, but something about that night's activities gave him cause to worry. Fech was so caught up in his thoughts, he failed to notice the squirrel Renard tossed to him until it hit him in the head. With a shocked expression he glanced at his master.

Renard glared at him, "Pay close attention Fech, those that don't have their bones weathering on the side of the road."

Chapter 4

The blood stained blade of a short sword disappeared into the stomach of the lizard man. The creature's black blood gushed from the wound, a curse on the human responsible for striking him down was on its lips as it stumbled and fell. The crowd exploded in the loudest cheering the Halfling ever heard or imagined possible. Janessa looked around for Viola, but her friend left a few minutes earlier quoting something like barbarism or some such thing. Mages never knew a good time even when they were a part of it. Secure in the knowledge her friend wasn't having any fun, or getting into trouble, she turned her attention back to the human barbarian. Unless she miscalculated, he won them four hundred gold pieces. Janessa felt so thankful about their winnings that for the first time since she first saw the human she felt no desire. Such were the joys of winning.

Janessa stayed until the bodies of the ogre and lizard man were removed. She felt it wiser to remain and act as though she hadn't won anything instead of racing to the Pit Master to demand her winnings. It was far better not to draw attention to one self during moments like those. Only when she was sure no one remained to watch her did she leave the pit side area.

*****

Just when Viola convinced herself to remain for the rest of the match the lizard man leapt onto the ogre's back and bit down on the larger warrior's neck. The blood sprayed out from the severed jugular vein and into the face of a hapless spectator. That was the final straw, Viola told Janessa those fights were barbaric before she let herself be talked into going to one and those events only served to steady her beliefs. She couldn't understand Janessa's pleas for her to stay for the remainder of the match. Frustrated, Viola stormed away, she needed some fresh air and to distance herself from the carnage as much as possible.

Viola was only gone for a few moments when she heard a tremendous cheer erupt from the Pits. "Sounds like another winner." She couldn't help feeling full of sarcasm, she wasn't even thinking about whether or not they won. Her thoughts were more along the lines of empathy for the people wasting their time there.

"That's not a look one as young as you should have, child." The voice was soft and kind.

Viola turned to the source of the voice in surprise. A smile replaced her shocked expression upon seeing the familiar face greeting her. "I'm sorry," she flushed at having been caught off guard, "but I didn't hear you approach, Master."

Mern waved his hand in annoyance, "Don't give me that master stuff until I begin teaching you. Until then call me Mern, everyone else does."

Viola tried to remain composed, but she couldn't stop smiling. "My apologies Mern. I'm Viola Cantril." She bowed to show her respect.

Mern returned her bow, "It's quite pleasant to finally be introduced. Far better than the alternative I think, eh?" He chuckled, feeling pleased the day turned out so well for him. "I hope you don't mind my curiosity, but what are you doing out here at this hour? And where's your friend?"

Viola rolled her eyes. The action didn't go unnoticed by the old man. "She's at the fights drooling over some barbarian."

Mern nodded, "Berek."

Viola paused for a second, "I'm sorry?"

Mern smiled like a grandfather would while teaching his favorite grandchild. "It has to be Berek. The ladies always swoon around him."

Viola understood what he meant, but the charm the barbarian held over others hadn't taken a firm enough grip on her. Upon seeing the young woman go stiff at his inclination, Mern apologized. "My apologies. I see I was incorrect. You have enough willpower not to succumb to those levels. My congratulations."

His final comment caught her off guard, "I'm sorry, but I haven't done anything to warrant congratulations."

Mern smiled at her, "Of course you did. Self control and strong mindedness are essential to learning magic. My dear, you have just taken your first step to greatness."

Those qualities failed when Viola flushed at his compliment. She found herself wishing Janessa could've been there to hear him. Too bad she knew what the Halfling would've said in retort.

Seeing his opportunity Mern held out his arm for her to take. "Mind if I escort you to the end of Main Street, Viola? It'll make an old man feel useful." She agreed, her mind was away from her friend and focused on any piece of information she could learn from her new master. Unknown to either of them a pair of eyes watched them from the cover of trees.

*****

"Three hundred ninety... four hundred." Janessa watched the purser count off her winnings while she counted along, there were few she trusted with that much money. When he finished she closed the pouch as tight as she could. She did the same for the other three bags, tying it to her belt next to the others.

Janessa smiled at the purser, "Thanks, hopefully I'll be just as lucky tomorrow." She was sure she was mistaken, but she could swear the young man's face turned pale after she spoke. Undaunted, she turned to leave but only made it a few steps before she turned into a group of shadows taking herself out of view of anyone that may have been interested in her. Secure in the shadows, Janessa took out another pouch Viola gave her a few months earlier. She'd been told it was enchanted and could carry the largest of items without any added weight or change in size. It had been one of Viola's first conjurings, one of the few high level spells she was able to cast without an explosion of some sort.

Knowing the Halfling's talent for acquiring items, Viola felt Janessa would have greater need of it than she would. The thought of her friend caused Janessa to pause as she emptied the four pouches of gold into the magiked bag without a sound. She wondered where Viola went but Janessa decided she must've gone back to Hope without her. A shame, Janessa thought, that Viola's always so moody. Be that as it was, she was entitled to half of the winnings. Janessa planned to throw in half of what she found in purses "carelessly" discarded. They did well for themselves, she thought while putting stones into the now empty pouches and tied them back into place. Once ready, she made her way through the shadows and between the tents to ensure no one was following her.

The walk back to Hope was peaceful and allowed her to daydream about the human barbarian. She couldn't help but wonder if he knew how much he meant to her at the moment. Her purse was full and her heart sang a song. She knew Viola would call it infatuation, and maybe she was right. Janessa thought on it for a moment, but if that's all it was then it was one of her weaknesses that made them rich. "Now what would she say to that I wonder?" Janessa muttered to herself as she approached the entrance to Hope.

Hope was a simple, small city the inhabitants decided to surround with a stone wall for protection. There were those that chose to live outside the walls and the safety they provided. Farmers mostly, they owned little thieves and bandits would want aside from their wives or daughters should the mood strike. It was far easier and safer to ambush travelers on the roadway as they weren't protected by the Sheriff or Hope's army. To keep the city safe, the gates were closed and locked after a certain hour and guards patrolled along the walls. The measures seemed extreme to Janessa since the last war fought around Hope was over two hundred years earlier.

As curious as she was, Janessa knew better than to try to enter after the gate was closed. Sheriff Tavers would throw her in jail and keep her gold for himself. She contented herself to look upon the stone archway above the main gate. A beautiful design was carved into each stone with loving care, ensuring the carvings lined up properly. Dwarven make most likely, she thought as she gazed up at it, though she had no idea of its history. She noticed for the first time that the design looked like a rising sun to her. Maybe the Elves made it; they loved nature and the giving of life. An interesting comparison of the two vastly different cultures. She looked around and cursed Viola for abandoning her. Viola knew her levitation spell was how they planned to get into the city. Frustrated, the Halfling looked for a comfortable place to rest until she could figure out how to get home, the last thing she needed was to be forced to sleep outdoors. There was bound to be thieves and other bandits roaming about with the pit fights and merchants there and, despite what many may think, there is no such thing as honor among thieves.

Viola continued on her way after her new friend, and soon to be master, bid her a safe journey. She thought it odd he'd do so since she only had to cross a field. It wasn't until after she was halfway across the large field that she realized it was a common farewell. She was annoyed with herself after questioning why he said such a thing when she was fond of using the same farewell. There were times she felt as naïve as Janessa often accused her or being.

She stopped when she realized she forgot about Janessa. She fought back a wave of panic and tried to think. Everything had a logical means; one just had to find it. Viola knew she was being a fool. Janessa would've waited for her, even looked for her before suspecting the young mage already headed home. The only problem would've been entering Hope. Tavers wouldn't allow anyone to enter at that hour even if they were residents. Her best course of action, she reasoned, was to go to their designated meeting place outside the wall.

The area they selected wasn't far from the edge of the field and took less time than Viola thought it would to reach it. She tried not to worry but the tendrils of fear wouldn't stop trying to pierce her heart. Janessa was far more resilient and able to handle those situations than she was. As Janessa always told her, Viola was a bookworm and needed to experience the world and life, more than she was. Viola wanted to experience more but she wanted to make sure she was strong enough in magic and knowledge before she took the next step. The facts of life were simple, an unprepared or undisciplined mage would soon be defeated and dead. That was a fate she wished to avoid as much as possible. Even so, Viola had to admit the two of them being so different was what made them such great friends. In some ways it was as if one completed the other, they were inseparable. The reason behind their separation that evening puzzled the young mage while she continued her trek by the full moon light.

*****

"Will you stop and listen to me for a minute? You're becoming as thick headed as Renard." The two men had been walking through the forest for the better part of an hour searching for something. Well, that's what Berek claimed they were doing. The middle aged man following believed his nephew was trying to get them lost. Gilliam had never been able to understand his own flesh and blood.

They came from a family whose tradition as artists and seekers of knowledge were legendary throughout the land. It'd been a shock to Gilliam's father when he told him he wished to become a healer or cleric, as they're known in the ancient lands far to the north. One of their bloodline, his own son, was to become a healer? To those in his family there were few, if any, positions lower. He could scarcely imagine what would happen if they discovered the fate of his nephew.

A religious man, Gilliam was drawn to the church of Fallor and its reputation for healing for as long as he could remember. Although not devout, as many believed he should be, Gilliam was sent on a quest to find an artifact that would benefit the church as well as to demonstrate the righteousness of their deity. Gilliam believed, just as his superiors did, that once he held a sacred object his faith would be strengthened a hundred fold. That was ten years earlier; he could still remember the cool autumn morning he left the temple in Narosia. At the time, he believed it would be a matter of days before he returned. Ah, the arrogance and petulance of youth. He refused to accept defeat and instead of returning to the temple in failure, he wrapped himself in what little faith his fellow clerics deemed he had and continued on his path. Stubborn, he refused to accept their aid and as time and trials passed he found himself growing in his faith and power.

He first stumbled across Renard's company near a large coastal city named Rissa. Thinking he'd earn some money helping to heal the fighters taking part in those barbaric games, he joined the company. Surprise wasn't the only emotion he felt when first seeing his nephew. It horrified him to learn the young man left home to hone his skills as a warrior. Feeling an obligation outside the calling of the church, Gilliam remained in the company to help ensure Berek's continued health.

Trudging through the forest Gilliam still found amazement at his nephew needing little healing, aside from a burn on his shoulder from the lizard man's venom during their match. In all the years he spent with Renard's company, he never once saw Berek injured beyond a few scratches or cuts. Perhaps it was through kinship he stayed, or most likely, from a bond the two shared as outcasts from their own families. Gilliam knew it was the will of Fallor for him to remain with his nephew, but for what purpose he wasn't certain. Now he watched Berek continue on as if he didn't hear the older man's frustration.

It was dark by then, making it the perfect opportunity to find the hidden cave outside Hope's walls. Rumors said it had been an ancient escape tunnel built during the last wars so the ruler and his family could escape in the event Hope was sacked. Those same rumors claimed the city hid its vast treasures in those caves and that some of it had been left behind following an earthquake. Forgotten, it sat waiting to be found by some daring adventurer. Berek smiled to himself in the darkness. If the rumors were true, he'd be a rich man by morning and would buy his freedom from Renard. While Berek doubted the treasure was real, he felt it worth his time if only to see the look on Renard's face after he discovered his main attraction walked out of camp without anyone caring.

As an afterthought, Berek glanced over his shoulder at his uncle. Gilliam seemed to age so much in the years since he joined Renard's company. Berek remembered when the pair first recognized each other after so many years apart. At first, Gilliam appeared ragged, as though he was an escaped slave or convict. Berek was certain it wasn't either one of those. His uncle Gilliam was the legendary black sheep of the family, at least until Berek's talent became public knowledge.

Berek's wry smile grew in the shadows at the memory. Gilliam already left by the time Berek was sent away, so Berek was certain his uncle didn't know why he was a fighter in Renard's company. Such a shame, Berek thought, that he's as blind to the truth as he is in the dark. "Come uncle, the way isn't so treacherous as to compare me to that toad is it?" The mocking tone in Berek's voice was unmistakable, he'd always been proud and arrogant as a child.

Gilliam chose to ignore his nephew's tone for that reason.. "By the Gods Berek, how can you see on a night like this?" The moon was full and its light was more than enough to see by, but the canopy of the trees blocked out any light trying to find a an opening. He doubted that even the sun's rays could pierce the thick foliage.

Berek chuckled, shrugging his answer. "I don't know, it's something I've always been able to do when I needed to." He stopped short of pointing out it began as a small child when he was afraid of the dark. Over the years he managed to control his ability and in doing so he learned of a great many more. Both of those had their own time and place for discussion and this wasn't it.

Gilliam could tell there was something his nephew wasn't telling him, but he let it pass for the moment. He heard his brother discussing the "strange things" Berek could do as a young boy before he left for Narosia. Gilliam believed his brother's tale was one of overreaction, maybe he'd been mistaken about it. But now that Berek admitted he had some strange abilities, Gilliam paused in alarm. How hadn't I noticed before now? He asked himself while they were surrounded in darkness. The answer eluded him for the moment but his emotions faded once he realized he and his nephew were more alike than anyone ever realized. "What are you looking for out here? Another fight perhaps?"

Berek smiled, gazing around them. "Only if one's inevitable, uncle." His gaze settled on a grove of trees a handful of meters to the side. Sitting close together, they were the perfect camouflage for the average passerby. He slowly approached the grove, one could never be too careful of booby traps, if the rumors were true of course. "An opening to a cave or tunnel, uncle. We may have found it." Only then did he realize his uncle couldn't see in the dark so he stopped. "Be careful where you step uncle, there may be traps or snares."

Gilliam stopped stricken for a moment and watching Berek continue on his course unimpeded. Feeling ashamed at his reaction, Gilliam stepped forward and, upon nothing happening, continued following his nephew. "You've taken us into a trapper's area to find a cave? I dare say that I think you took one too many hits to the head in the fights. The ground around these parts is smooth; the nearest cave would be in the mountains."

Smiling to himself, Berek was grateful the night and its shadows hid his expressions so well. Gilliam may be a man of the world but he hadn't heard the rumors. Trappers area, that was a good one, although it was possible they were in someone's hunting grounds. They weren't too far from the city walls, well within the distance for squirrel and rabbit hunters. "Not necessarily a cave uncle, but a tunnel or air chute." He reached the grove of trees and began to feel the ground for any openings or covers.

Gilliam reached the grove and knelt down to do the same. In his mind, he began putting a few of the pieces of the puzzle together. "Do I want to know what you hope to find within those tunnels or caves?"

Berek laughed, "Forgive me uncle, I assumed you were as incompetent as you would have others believe." He felt a sudden growing admiration for the cleric at his side; there was a strength and understanding hidden by simple gestures and words. He'd be certain never to underestimate anyone like that again. "You probably wouldn't like it, but it's a treasure chamber."

Gilliam's eyes burned with pride at Berek's confession and unspoken compliment. He knew his nephew well it seemed. However, in seconds it was replaced by a feeling of misgiving. "It belongs to this city."

"It did." Berek knew it wasn't a question, but he continued as if it were. "Rumors claimed a portion of it was left behind either forgotten or purposely."

Gilliam thought it over for a moment, "A tribute of some kind? But to who or what?"

"That is the question at hand, uncle. I don't put much faith in the rumors, but if they're true I can finally be rid of Renard."

Gilliam paused, watching his nephew for a moment as he finally understood why he found him pit fighting for a bastard like Renard. It wasn't to improve his skills as a warrior like Berek claimed. His birthright and pride would never allow him to say what he really was. A slave. With his own determination the cleric redoubled his efforts to find the opening of an air shaft and the first proof that the rumors were true.

Continuing their search, Gilliam couldn't help but let his mind wander. First in his thoughts were how his nephew happened upon this life and second, and very disturbing to himself, was why he didn't see the reason all of those years earlier? Or had he and he chose not to believe it true? The final thought sent a shiver through his body. He must've seen it, otherwise why would he have stayed? For the first time in years he openly questioned what the God of neutrality had planned for him.

*****

Okay, she was at the rendezvous for the two to get back into the city but where was Janessa? Viola glanced around and muttered a curse. The Halfling was probably in their room sleeping while she stood outside the wall in the moonlight like a low level thief even Janessa would scoff at. She thought about levitating herself over the wall but hesitated when she heard a sound in the woods behind her.

Viola turned from the wall, her thoughts broken by the sudden disturbance. Her mind focused on defensive spells she needed in case of an attack. "Who's there?" Not the smartest thing to do, she realized too late. The last thing she wanted to do give herself away. Luckily, nothing leapt out at her or fired an arrow or spear in her direction. Part of her reasoned the sound belonged to a squirrel or some other animal running around the forest late at night.

She gave into the part of her that wanted to be like Janessa, adventurous and outgoing, and took several steps into the forest. After a moment she noticed the normal sounds of the night weren't there. The realization dawned on her too late as she felt someone grab her left arm, the one carrying her new books. The sudden jerk caused her to drop them. From the sound of the man behind her, the books fell onto his foot, his hand loosened enough that she was able to pull free from his grip.

"Gut her you fools! Keep her quiet!" Viola turned towards the sound of the voice and made a motion in the air while mumbling a few words of magic. The man, who seemed to be their leader, fell backwards as an invisible force shoved him. Movement to her left caught her attention but she caught a backhand across her cheek when she turned to face it. Stunned, she hit the ground with a handful of shadows standing over her.

A squeak and scuffle to her side ended when small, gentle hands grabbed her shoulders. "Leave her alone!"

"Janessa?" The words came out slurred due to a fat lip. Viola tried to sit up but the Halfling's hands held her as still as they could.

"Kill the magic user before she can cast another of her cursed spells." Ordered the voice of the man Viola sent backwards a moment earlier. He regained his footing and his mood turned fouler.

"No! Keep away from her!" Janessa stood, placing herself between her friend and the small group that ambushed them. "You took everything we have, now go! Be off with you!"

A chuckle traveled through the group of five men, the only one that hadn't made a sound was the one that ordered Viola killed. He proved Janessa's assumption that he was the leader when he bent over until he could look her in the eye. His features were difficult for her to make out in the pale light of the moon, but what she could see terrified her. His face was lined with scars from what she guessed was every weapon in existence and his breath smelled worse than death. She didn't feel such fear when they happened upon her minutes earlier, but then she was bolstered by the knowledge that her friend needed her. Otherwise, she would've run by then. The group's leader sensed the same thing.

"Well what have we here? A brave Halfling, and loyal too." His deformed face split into a grin while the rest of the group burst into laughter. "Never thought I'd live to see the day." Glancing over his shoulder he joined his companions in their laugh, "You think we should have some fun with them first?"

The other four offered their suggestions during breaks in the laughter. Janessa hated being laughed at as did all Halflings, but they were rarely in a position to do something about it. She felt the small dagger in her right boot, one of them made a joke that it couldn't do any harm and let her keep it. Their mistake would be their leader's last, of that she was certain. Just as most of her plans have a tendency to work out, this one did much the same. A sudden sound behind the bandits caught their attention and though her timing was thrown off, she moved in a single fluid motion. Taking the dagger, she drove it into the leader's neck when his head was turned. Although he bled out in seconds without knowing what happened, Janessa had the privilege of seeing the rest of his band fall to two men, one of which she never expected on seeing again. At least not there.

Chapter 5

Nothing! Not a damn thing! Berek sat back on his haunches fighting the urge to throw something. Even though he didn't expect to find anything, he couldn't let his ambitious dream get the better of him. This was only a minor setback, there had to be an opening somewhere around them. History proved rumors were based on factual events. He took a deep breath and covered his face with his hands to help clear his head. A small part of him began wondering if it'd be easier to kill Renard. Of course, there was the main reason he hadn't done so yet: his pet gargoyle Fech. Without the might of that gruesome creature he doubted Renard would've lasted a fortnight with his company. Berek let out his breath in thought. There had to be another spot.

Gilliam watched his nephew in silence and tried to imagine what the young man was thinking. He could see the frustration on the fighter's face after they finished their search within the grove. For anyone else, the cleric would've offered some words of encouragement, but he knew it would be wasted on Berek. His nephew was too proud to accept any token like that. He reminded Gilliam of Berek's father, his brother, in that way. Neither of them would ever ask for help nor accept a show of sympathy. He was about to say something when the sound of a large object crashing through the brush caught their attention.

Gilliam rested his hand on mace's handle, straining his hearing for another sound. After a few seconds the cleric's patience was rewarded when voices drifted through the night air towards them. He glanced at his nephew and was pleased to see he heard the voices as well. Any further questions would have to wait as the fighter leapt to his feet and headed for the sound which began to sound like a scuffle. Gilliam said a quick prayer to Fallor before lifting his mace in preparation for the upcoming fight.

They could hear the shrill voice of one of them ahead. A child, judging from its pitch. No, she was a Halfling. Berek could tell by the sight of her seconds before one of the men made a joke about Halflings. If it'd been another time and place he would've congratulated himself on identifying her, it was by no means a simple task to do so. Instead, he concentrated on reaching the pair being held. There were only four bandits but he doubted they could reach them in time without allowing his uncle to learn of his ability.

Gilliam sat crouched next to his nephew waiting for what, he prayed, would be the appropriate time to intervene. While he lacked the ability to see at night, like Berek claimed he could, his hearing was excellent. After hearing the bandit's leader talk of killing the magic user, nothing wrong with that in his mind, he tensed. Like most clerics, he didn't trust magic users. In fact, he hated and feared them. A cleric's power came from their deity, they were nothing more than a conduit for the power they could yield. Mages, warlocks, druids, and other magic users took their power from the world around them and sought to be like the Gods. Indeed, he was certain that was their ambition despite what claims they made to the contrary.

Sensing the time to act was nearly upon them; Gilliam glanced at his nephew to see if Berek could sense it as well. It was the first time the cleric ever saw his nephew's face when he was using his night vision. The surprise at the sight of Berek's eyes forced a gasp from the well traveled cleric. "By Fallor... Your eyes..." He leaned backwards away from the soft glowing emptiness of the fighter's eyes. The bush couldn't hold the weight of the cleric resulting in a chorus of breaking twigs, branches, and a dull thump on the soft ground.

Berek watched his uncle for a moment, this wasn't how he wanted him to find out and neither of them were ready. He wanted to say something, anything to calm the terrified look on Gilliam's face but the sound of the bush gave away their location. Without wasting another second, Berek raised his hand and mumbled a strange word. Five balls of light, no larger than an insect launched from each of his finger tips towards the form farthest from them. The Halfling's attack was hidden from him by the positioning of the bandit he attacked. At least it was well timed, he thought rushing through the brush towards the remaining two.

Most times, bandits flee the moment one of their comrades fall to an enemy. Many met an untimely end as their cowardice often caused many to run away only to succumb to the creations of nature without their screams being heard. The three remaining stayed not out of loyalty or valor but for the simple reason that everything happened faster than any of them thought possible. They were frozen by indecision, but that ended when the one to their right felt a burning pain in his stomach. Too late he realized his insides were falling to the ground from the large cut running his entire width. Before he hit the ground, his nearest comrade struggled against Berek, but his efforts were no match for a fighter that could see him and his movements as if they were in broad daylight.

Janessa watched in wonder as two of their assailants were overrun by a stranger leaping at them from the darkness. Numb with shock, she looked down at the shadow by her feet and the dark handled dagger sticking from the shadows neck. She never killed anything before, not even an insect, and the blood on her hands caused her to tremble.

Lost in herself, Janessa didn't notice the gentle hands taking hold of her shoulders. Without thinking she turned, burrowing her face into her friend's shoulder and began to cry. Upon regaining her senses after being struck, Viola prepared a spell while holding her friend, never taking her eyes off the third figure as he struggled to aim a bow at their savior.

The second bandit put forth a good effort but the fight was won when Berek sunk his sword into the thinly protected side of the bandit. The lightly armored section gave way to the powerful thrust of the sword as it pushed upwards into the man's heart. Lost in the immediate conflict, Berek noticed the third with a bow just as he fired. Ducking behind the bulk of the now dead bandit, he tried to pull his sword free from the body as the arrow missed his head.

Before he could fully dislodge himself and his sword words of magic found his ears. Somehow he knew the spell despite never hearing it before and watched the bandit's leather armor and clothing catch fire. The bandit began flailing about when he realized he was burning alive. His screams only lasted until the light from the flames caught a steel studded mace and gray robes lashing out from the darkness like a ghost. The bandit collapsed on the ground, his skull crushed from the weight of the weapon. Following his killing strike, Gilliam began kicking dirt on the man's clothing attempting to put out the fire. The sickening smell of burning flesh threatened to overwhelm their sense of smell.

Berek strode to his uncle to help him put out the fire the mage's ignition spell caused. When there was only smoke left Berek turned to Gilliam. "Uncle, I'm sorry..."

Gilliam cleared his throat, "No matter. Poor devil had to be put out of his misery." Such was his rational way. He hesitated to help his own nephew with whom he'd spent the past five years with and that was all he could think to say. He wasn't sure why he felt a wave of fear a moment earlier. Berek told him about his ability to see in the dark, didn't he? It would only be natural that he'd have others as well. He said he didn't know how he could see in the dark, but yet he spoke the language of magic to kill the first bandit, just as that young girl did to the poor man at their feet. He didn't believe he'd been lied to, but his eyes... Berek's eyes had glowed but with a black light. They were devoid of life, of a soul. Never in all of his years did Gilliam expect to see anything like that. Could his own flesh and blood have struck a bargain with some unholy beast from the depths of the Abyss? He wasn't sure what to think, he needed time that was all. "Things are what they are. We cannot change the past no more than one can alter their own destiny."

Berek watched his uncle for a moment. Just like his father, he thought, remembering those difficult times so long ago. Not knowing what to say or do, Berek turned from his uncle and walked over to the two young women they saved.

"I... I killed him. I really killed someone." Janessa managed to calm down from her initial breakdown as the shock began to wear off.

"You saved my life, Jenny, both our lives." Viola was on the verge of her own breakdown but she held it in check by the pride she felt towards her friend. Things had changed between them but remained the same. She thought it odd that she couldn't put her finger on what gave her such a feeling.

Viola raised her head at the sound of footsteps off to their side. She focused on a handful of defensive spells, the final ones she'd been able to retain earlier that day. When their savior stopped she looked up into his face, there was something familiar about him. The price for being rescued was well known by many women folk on Pyrain. Few men of courage did so out of the kindness of their hearts. "Are we yours now Crusader, or is it Conqueror?" Her eyes went to his blood soaked sword.

Janessa gasped beside her, "It's him! He's the fighter that won the final match!" Thanks to her friend, Viola knew where she saw him before, grateful Janessa didn't mention anything about their winnings. From the look of the pouches the bandits had taken from Janessa it looked to be sizable, for all they knew he planned to rob them.

Berek listened to the young mage unsure of what to say or do. It wasn't until he followed her gaze that he realized he hadn't sheathed his sword. Realizing his error he wiped the blade off on the shirt of one of the bandits before sheathing his sword. "As far as I'm concerned you belong not to me or any other. I wanted to ensure you both were safe."

Viola nodded, "Crusader then. Yes, thank you we are well now. We are in your debt."

Janessa forgot about her previous distress, watching Berek with a hungry eye. "We could offer ways to settle that debt if you so wish."

Despite himself, Berek smiled. "Thank you mistress, but all I ask is you continue to cheer for me during my matches."

Berek knew how to work a crowd. In fact, he got a shriek of joy out of the Halfling and a mistrustful glance from the mage who elbowed her smaller companion. "What brought you out here at this hour, if I may ask?"

Berek eyed her for a moment. Although the mage was young she was nobody's fool and he needed to be cautious. Neither one of them were, which made them both dangerous should he be incorrect in his judgment. He was certain they'd be able to tell if he was lying, though he didn't know how. In the end, he decided to tell them the truth. What could it hurt? Maybe they'd be willing to help him to repay the debt. "I was looking for an entrance into the ancient tunnel of Hope. I've heard rumors of a treasure hidden there. I wish to claim it."

Janessa's eyes opened wide, "That's easy! It's just--" She stopped in thought, "that we don't know for less than half."

Only Janessa, Viola thought, asking her own question. "You take a huge risk in telling us that. If we knew where the entrance was, we could take the treasure ourselves."

Berek smiled, "Not if it's guarded, then you'll both be dead without my sword."

Janessa and Viola took a moment to think over his words. The Halfling was the first to speak, "Meet us at Hope's Stables tomorrow after the last fight. By then we'll have our decision."

Both Berek and Viola were taken aback, neither of them expected Janessa to take over the deal. Berek nodded after a moment, "Agreed. We'll meet at the stables after the final bout. Until then, ladies." He bowed, then turned towards Renard's camp, he still had a tiny thread of hope to cling to.

Gilliam listened to the conversation with little interest but a good deal of concern. When his nephew reached him he turned and kept pace with the younger man. "Do you wish for me to accompany you tomorrow?" Gilliam asked out of politeness, he wanted to be alone but he was too proud to say so.

Berek gave little hint to the turmoil raging in his heart and soul. "If you wish to. I'll not ask you to endanger yourself further." In silence, he begged his uncle to follow him. If he was religious, he would've prayed to whatever God would listen to help him mend the gap that materialized between them.

Alone by the wall of Hope, Janessa and Viola discussed their plans in hushed whispers while Viola cast her levitation spell. They were within the safe confines of the city walls, no wiser that the entire event was seen by two pairs of eyes, each interested for different reasons. One, an elderly human, stood hidden behind a group of trees curious at the developments occurring, while the second pair of eyes sat atop the highest tower of the walled city muttering to himself about how his master would not be pleased. His gaze took in everything transpiring below him but his attention wasn't on the wayward fighter or cleric. Once the elderly mage disappeared from view by traveling the roads of magic to where he was staying, the gargoyle's great leathery wings spread from around his form they encircled to make him as invisible as possible. With a leap from his powerful legs, Fech circled once then flew after the human, his brain already working on possible scenarios.

Chapter 6

The sun rose high overhead, its light filtering through the curtains and onto the young mage's face as if to mock her for the few short hours she allowed herself to sleep the previous night. Tired and trusting Janessa to handle any negotiations, Viola read through her new books until she couldn't see the words anymore. Grateful she remembered them after everything they endured, she picked them up before she cast the spell bringing her and Janessa back over the wall without notice. Now the books sat in the center of her small writing desk, after proving to be far more fascinating than she could've dreamed. It was a pity Janessa didn't know what she was missing, but her friend was never the academic type.

As if Viola's thoughts called to her, Janessa entered the room they shared with her spirits lower than normal. Viola watched her move about the room looking like she hadn't slept much. The young mage thought she knew why, she heard her friend crying at times during the night. Viola knew the incident with the bandits haunted her dreams, she couldn't imagine what it was like to kill someone with her bare hands. Still, despite what Janessa claimed to be like, Viola knew her friend to be sensitive at times and she was trying to cope with the blood that stained her hands. Although Viola could see the progress her friend was making, she couldn't help but wonder why Janessa hadn't felt that way during the pit fights. She assumed it was different than watching someone else die in a fight. Janessa would be alright; at the very least their plans for that evening would help get her mind off of it.

Janessa was, as her friend thought, dealing with the previous night's events. Halflings, as a rule, have upbeat natures, thus it didn't taken her long to get over the shock of what happened. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the bandit's misshapen face and the rush of blood covering her hands and most of her clothes. She heard others talking about those they had to kill. They all said the same thing; you learn to handle it in time. She was handling it, at least when she was awake. She pushed those thoughts aside and focused on their upcoming adventure. Her mind filled with the possibilities of finding a treasure. For that reason, she didn't notice Viola was awake until after she was in the room for a brief time.

"Oh good, you're awake." Her face brightened at the chance for her mind to focus on something else. "You slept through breakfast, but I saved you some." She handed over a piece of linen wrapped in a ball.

Viola smiled, shaking her head. She knew better than to ask how Janessa acquired the sweet cake wrapped inside the linen. Viola, for her part, had no qualms about it as she took a bite. She found it strange that she felt so hungry. The last time she remembered eating anything was before they left for the pit fights. She only fasted for brief periods of time when studying magic, particularly the more advanced spells she wasn't supposed to know how to use yet, but she only read some of the herbology book she purchased the previous day. Her eyes grew wide when she remembered her promise to the kind old mage, Mern. She planned to visit him and help move him into one of the rooms the inn they were staying at had available.

Janessa recognized the wide-eyed look and placed her hands on her hips while taking the tone of a parent or teacher scolding a neglectful child. "You didn't study your magic last night, did you?"

Now, Viola saw the same look many times before, mostly from her master at the magic school, and she came to enjoy seeing it on Janessa. It added an air of responsibility most Halflings seemed not to have, thus it gave Janessa a great deal of joy to be the "responsible" one. That day was no exception, at least in part. Viola smiled, "Partly, I also have to meet a friend. We promised to help Mern, remember?"

Janessa's face scrunched together for a moment as she tried to remember what her friend meant. After a second's thought, her expression changed and brightened. "I almost forgot. He's staying behind his stand right?" Viola nodded, she knew what was coming. "I'll go and get him, no sense in us both going. You have to study your spell book anyway." Janessa paused, thinking everything was settled, but when Viola opened her mouth to argue she continued rebuking the argument before it got started. "Remember what happened the last time you didn't have your spells ready? What if Berek and his friend try to betray us? What'll we do then? See? I knew you'd understand."

Finished, Janessa grabbed her cloak, which had more hidden pockets sewn into it than most, and left the room and her friend in silence. Viola hated her for a brief moment for being a reminder of her greatest mistake. She just started out in magic and hadn't yet understood that she needed to study each day. She believed she was above that. Her arrogance almost got both of them killed. If not for Janessa's fast thinking... Viola took a deep breath and tried to relax.

She took a few minutes before she felt composed enough to open her spell book and begin studying. Viola then realized she wasn't upset over being reminded of her previous mistake. Viola was upset and jealous of Janessa going to help her newest friend and future teacher. Shaking her head to help clear it, Viola focused on the difficult spell before her. She was overreacting, that was all there was to it.

*****

Lunch was the same tasteless soup Renard fed his fighters along with a hunk of cheese and bread. Many times Berek joked with the other fighters about how an army could survive on cheese and bread as their main ration. The friendly jesting between him and the other fighters wasn't present that day. Everything was as normal as any other day as far as the rest were concerned, but Berek seemed to have his head in a fog. By then, everyone heard about his late night adventures and waited for him to be pulled aside by Renard. As a slave, he was given some leeway as were the others, but that ended with unexcused leaves and getting into fights with bandits.

In his own way, Renard thought he treated them very well. Most slaves in the world would be locked into chains by their masters with heavy iron collars around their necks. He did none of that. In fact, a branding mark burned into the back of their hands proved what they were, nothing else. Most responded well to his loose restrictions and those that didn't learned just how good Renard was with his battle axe, if Fech didn't teach them the lesson first.

Most of the fighters understood and didn't feel any disdain for what Berek did the previous night and many thought Renard may let him off with a warning. Berek didn't have a match and the need to work off some anxiety was obvious. He'd been the first human to ever best an ogre and lizard man in a three way match. The anxiety stemmed from the fact the few ogres and lizard men in the company were upset after losing members of their respective peoples. Simply put, the safest place for him had been outside the company boundaries.

Berek was well aware of their thoughts, both friendly and not so, but his thoughts were of a more personal nature. After he and his uncle left the two women by the city wall, they hadn't exchanged more than a few words to each other. He hoped after a good night's sleep Gilliam would forgive him enough to let him explain. When the morning sun rose overhead it appeared Berek gave his uncle too much credit as he hadn't even seen the cleric since they returned to the company.

Thus far, Berek ate a few spoonfuls of the watered down chicken broth stew and bread. Part of him wished for any breakdown of the daily routine, for a match to help burn off some of his uneasiness. He wasn't any closer to explaining how he came to have his abilities than he was when his father first asked him after he turned five years old. When one of the large men Renard paid to maintain order tapped him on the shoulder and motioned him to follow, Berek stood and obeyed without a sound. At least that broke up the monotony of the day.

Off in the distance, far enough away not to be seen but close enough to watch his nephew, Gilliam watched the young man stir his soup. He fought back the pangs of guilt gnawing at him without mercy. He spent most of the night questioning his own intentions as well as praying to Fallor for guidance. The lack of an answer to his prayers only caused him to question himself even more. He knew Berek, he'd always been his favorite nephew. Something about the boy he felt made his special, to him, they shared an unspoken bond. That belief was strengthened when they met again a few years earlier.

Gilliam stood watching his nephew as he was led away to Renard's quarters for what was expected to be the usual tongue lashing. The cleric let out a breath and retreated back into his tent. He sat on the makeshift cot he constructed himself from a small tree after they arrived. As much as he tried, Gilliam could only bring himself to look at the piece of parchment he'd been trying to write on for the last few hours. It began as a letter to his brother, Berek's father, informing him about Berek's situation as a slave. But for one reason or another he couldn't bring himself to finish it.

Instead, Gilliam looked into himself for the reason behind his hesitation. The only answer presenting itself was his greatest fear. He struggled to believe someone in his family could be cold-blooded enough to send one of their own into this sort of fate. He clearly remembered how he was treated when knowledge of his becoming a cleric spread. If any of them had learned of Berek's power...Gilliam shook his head in disbelief at the possibilities, but he was sure of the answer.

Reaching out, he crumpled the parchment and tossed it on the ground. Gilliam hated magic users. He'd been taught from an early age that they only took from the world, like a thief in the night. But his faith was one of neutrality; by its own definition he had no right to be judgmental. But what concerned him the most was he felt his nephew's soul was at stake. From everything he ever heard about magic users, they had to constantly study their spells to memorize them. For whatever the reason, they were unable to retain the magic but Berek had no spell books or magic scrolls to study. The magic seemed to flow from him like a stream from a lake. Gilliam never heard of such a thing, he feared his nephew either traded his soul or was ensnared by some unseen evil. While he was sure either way was unwittingly done by the young man, Gilliam couldn't leave him alone in such a time of need as that. He needed to follow his heart; if his suspicions were true then Berek had been abandoned enough. But did he have the strength to see it through to the end?

Renard sat at a large table inside his tent counting the profits from the previous day. Fech sat in the corner with the most shadows, though due to the bright day outside no shadow inside the pavilion was dark enough to conceal him. The gargoyle reported everything he saw, as was his normal routine when someone left the camp. He omitted the part about following Mern. His master wouldn't care unless it led to something he could use. Instead, he explained he wanted to spread his wings and spotted the fighter and cleric by chance, which wasn't a complete lie. Considering Berek left of his own accord Fech reasoned it to be a plausible excuse, a belief rewarded by his master's warm gratitude and a squirrel as a treat. Never one to turn down a free meal, the gargoyle ate the squirrel in two bites then waited to hear the human's story for himself. At least he was able to finish his breakfast before the events began.

One of the guards entered to inform Renard of Berek's arrival then left to bring in the human. Fech often wondered about the dozen or so guards his master kept to maintain order. Taller than most humans, each stood nearly seven feet tall. He assumed they were a mixed breed from ogres or hill giants. Neither were known for their intelligence, but being part human gave Renard something to reason or bargain with. While not one to rate another's appearance, Fech found them ugly, filthy beasts needing a haircut as much as a bath. But Fech was biased; he thought all non-gargoyles were ugly beasts and chuckled deep in his throat at the realization. His thoughts were interrupted by the human's entrance, but appearing bored with it all Fech went back to gnawing on a large bone while listening and watching for any trouble. Let them think he was just a mindless beast; it made things easier for him in the long run.

Renard finished putting the money away and turned to face the opening of his tent seconds before Berek entered with a guard behind him. Renard watched him for a moment before motioning for the guard to leave them. The guard obeyed, but not before giving Berek's back a venomous glare.

Once the tent flap closed, Renard smiled at his best fighter. "You've had quite the adventure. Tell me, did you hope to escape or were you out for a simple walk?"

Though his tone was jovial, Renard's eyes were intense. Why he was in such a good mood, Berek could only guess. "I wished to work off some tension, besides it wasn't too safe for me in camp last night was it?"

Renard couldn't help but smile at the implied jab; he was the one that made the final match to the death. "I'm glad to hear that's all it was." He poured himself a cup of mead; he couldn't stand wine, and took a sip. "I give you and the others certain liberties; it'd be a shame if they had to be revoked due to a single rebellious action. As for your safety," he took a deep swig, "I highly doubt fighting roving bandits is better than staying in camp."

Berek paused, "If you say so. That was how I felt." He wondered if happening upon the bandits was an accident. He was certain Renard didn't want him dead that badly.

Renard smiled at the momentary pause, it was long enough to tell him the fighter wasn't so sure of himself. He'll expect for me to do something else. What a fool! Renard's laugh echoed in his own mind, he so loved those games, a tactical mind was a wasteful thing without someone to match it against. "I'm glad we understand each other, Berek. It'd be a shame if you did something to get yourself killed so close to winning your freedom." The shocked expression on Berek's face was what Renard expected. All slaves wanted their freedom; it was just a matter of how to get it. "Another month, maybe two and the earnings you've brought me would match the price I paid for you. When that time comes, your brand will be removed."

Two months? Could it really be that close? No, Berek forced himself to think clearly. He heard stories from those that were in the company before him. They told him about Renard's brand of freedom. Each time a slave had been released, Renard's pet gargoyle was spotted leaving the camp afterwards. Most believed the only way out was by killing Renard or the gargoyle when it began hunting them. "I doubt I cost you that much in gold, Master." Renard's smiled faltered at the tone in Berek's voice and Fech dropped the bone he'd been chewing on, his interest piqued. Berek couldn't help smiling as he continued. "But I look forward to that moment."

Renard finished his mead and set his large cup on the table. He was no fool, but he realized, neither was Berek. "If you challenge me it will be on the field of honor. Where I fear you won't be able to use your magic without reciprocations." He chuckled. While he wasn't wise in the ways of magic, Fech was. Berek's confused expression smoothed when he realized how Renard knew. "Yes, my pet has informed me you used some powerful magic last night." Renard's smile faded as he stepped over to stand eye to eye with Berek, his eyes burning into the fighter's. "You are mine until I decide otherwise, not before. Enjoy your lunch... slave."

Berek hadn't expected that, he forgot Fech must've spotted him the previous night. The gargoyle had a reputation for such things and it was inexcusable for Berek to forget about him. That was the only way the camp could've learned about the bandits. He'd been a fool; Renard would never allow him to buy his freedom now. Even the anger he felt at being called a slave outright didn't spur him into action as it would've minutes earlier. When the tent flap closed behind him and he was led back to the mess line he felt as though Renard succeeded in breaking him.

The last thing he expected to see upon his return was his uncle waiting for him. "We need to talk." Berek nodded as he sat down in his place, surprised his food was still there. Curious, he looked at Gilliam. In answer the cleric smiled, "I thought you might be back." Though Gilliam's smile was warm his eyes were filled with sorrow. Berek began to eat, unsure of what to expect.

Chapter 7

The sun burned bright and warm for it not being midday, bringing a smile to the young Halfling's face. Janessa enjoyed being outside on days like those. So many interesting and exciting people and events were more likely during those days. Poor Viola had no idea what she was missing, studying her spell book. The thought that Janessa had all but ordered her friend to stay behind to study didn't occur to her. Instead, Janessa enjoyed the air and the multitude of stands she passed. Janessa failed to notice a few of the despairing looks being sent her way, a Halfling wasn't something peddlers anywhere wanted to see.

The grounds were even more crowded than the day before; it looked like every living person in Hope decided to shop for trinkets. At least, that's how Galin chose to interpret things while he finalized a sale for a silver necklace he crafted during the last winter. He was rather proud of it, he took the design from an Elven structure he saw when he was younger, before Elves and dwarves closed their borders to most outsiders. The Vergon Wars hadn't been pleasant, except for the few that made money forging weapons during that time. After the Dark Elf cleric Vergon was slain, the Elves became the scapegoat for the sins of a single cleric. Only the dwarves remained reliable trading partners with them, creating an odd partnership considering neither race truly liked the other.

The design was a large circle representing Pyrain with five smaller circles inside representing each of the five dominant races: Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Halflings, and Minotaur. The Minotaur and Halflings were his own addition since the Halflings were like rabbits and always underfoot and the Minotaur controlled the large island chain off the eastern coast as well as a great deal of the mainland. Galin had put countless hours into finishing it, as each piece was about half the size of the smallest ring he'd ever seen.

Galin was putting his gold into a lockbox when a familiar voice caught his attention. "Anything new today, Galin?"

It took Galin a moment to recognize the voice and spot the small head mixed with his trinkets. He smiled while making sure her hands didn't grab anything they shouldn't. "Hello there lass, have any luck with the fights?"

Janessa's face brightened, "Okay I guess. We won four hundred gold pieces. But I don't have it with me; we put it in a safe place."

Galin chuckled, leave it to a Halfling to behave like an innocent child with such things, but he knew better. "That's good; it's not wise to carry that much gold around here."

Janessa smiled, "I'm here to help a friend move, and I just wanted to say hi."

Galin watched her turn and walk away with a skip in her step before chuckling to himself and double checking everything was where it was supposed to be. It wasn't everyday a Halfling lost interest in various objects made of silver. He guessed something or someone must've made an impression on her. Most likely it was Berek, if he remembered what her friend said the previous evening.

*****

The old mage wasn't standing, but he wasn't supported by anything he could detect. As was the case since he first entered the lair of the large red dragon to steal his treasure and power, Mern floated mere inches from the dragon's snout. Its fetid breath engulfed him each time the dragon exhaled. He focused his thoughts and everything began coming back to him, each time was different from their first meeting. For the first time, he felt the weight of the smallish crystal orb in his right hand. The dragon orb confused him whenever he communicated with his master, like walking into a thick cloud with no sense of direction or landmarks to guide him.

For a moment, Mern hung there in front of the dragon, but it wasn't real, not in the physical sense. That's why the first time was so different, then he'd been held by the dragon's magic where now it was his spectral form held by the dragon orb. The dragon's breath enveloped him but he couldn't feel or smell it, in many ways he thought it resembled death.

"Do not allow it to happen! You are mine and you will follow instructions. Understood, worm?" The voice boomed in Mern's head without mercy.

The old mage couldn't help but nod, he never understood how or why he did it, since that fateful day so long ago he could only obey as if he had no will of his own. How he'd obey was still up to him, in that he found contentment over the last hundred years.

"Then leave me. Remember the punishment for failure, worm." The sound of the voice in Mern's head was punishing, but nothing compared to what would happen to him if he failed.

The feeling of floating left him as Mern was dragged back by hands caring little for his safety. He felt as though he'd been pulled through the fabric of time itself before a sudden, jarring shake caused his eyes to open violently.

For a moment he couldn't move, each breath felt as though it was being taken for the first time. An unnamed fear held him in its embrace, not willing to let go. Finally, he dared to move his arm, against everything his mind and body told him, and was relieved the feeling of fear subsided. He took a deep breath to settle his shaken nerves before sitting straight in his seat. "Had it been a dream?" Mern muttered to himself, although he already knew the answer. The same question always came from his lips, and always there was the same answer. He glanced at his right hand to see it holding a grapefruit-sized black orb. "As dark as your heart, Master." He smiled to himself, things were in motion that the great and powerful Fyrelynx didn't like, or was it fear? Yes, he was certain the dragon was afraid, though he never planned to utter that opinion as it meant a most painful death at his master's summoning. No, he'd bide his time. Perhaps his freedom and his master's destruction were nearly at hand. Though enslaved as the dragon's familiar, Mern's mind was still his own and his own power increased overnight. His plan was progressing along as he foresaw.

A knock on the tent post interrupted his thoughts. "Mern? Are you ready? I'm here to help you move." Janessa stuck her head in the tent to check on the mage.

Though shame wasn't an emotion the old mage often felt, Mern felt relief wash over him as he wore his robes. His humility was forgotten at the sight of the Halfling. "Where's Viola?" He failed to keep the surprise out of his voice despite a good try. Thankfully, the Halfling didn't seem to notice. So much the better.

"She's studying her magic. I made her stay since she forgot to do so last night." Her eyes went to the large orb in his hand and widened at its sight. "That's a beautiful pearl. May I see it?"

When he first saw her expression at seeing the orb, Mern's grip tightened into a protective claw before realizing he had nothing to fear. Halflings seldom asked graciously for any object if they intended to steal it, besides it was protected against anyone else wishing to touch it without the power to use it. He smiled, knowing it was safe. "I use this for a fortune telling act I'm working on, besides it's one of a kind. I don't allow anyone else to touch it." When the Halfling's face fell somewhat he chuckled, "But if you come closer, I will allow you to see the wonders inside."

Janessa's face brightened and she stepped forward, gazing into the orb. Her original mistrust of the mage was forgotten as she never saw anything as beautiful as the clouds and small stars floating below the glass surface. After a few moments he placed a cloth over the orb, much to the Halfling's disappointment. "That's enough for now, once I'm settled in Hope you can come by to see it again. Have we a deal?"

Janessa nodded with a smile. "We already have a place picked out for you; it's next to where we're staying."

Mern smiled, living next to, or with, a Halfling was a dubious proposition, but under the circumstances it was ideal. "Excellent. I have everything packed." He picked up two small cases and placed them under his left arm before taking hold of a trunk by one end in his right. Janessa swore she didn't see him put the orb into a pocket or case but it was still gone. "If you could take that small pack and help with this."

Janessa settled the pack onto her shoulders while helping with the trunk using both hands. She wondered if he packed rocks to make it so heavy. At least they only needed to carry the items to a wagon just a few yards away that Mern thought ahead to rent from a fellow proprietor. He had planned on sending everything ahead so he could walk to Hope with the young mage, but now he felt it best for them both to ride the wagon as passengers. The idea thrilled Janessa since she had only been able to ride in the back of wagons up to then. Pleased he was winning over the one he felt was his greatest threat, Mern smiled and laughed as he listened to her retelling of the pit fights and their adventures during the night. Janessa laughed as well at some of the memories, she was finally able to make a tenuous peace with what she had to do. But for the life of her, Janessa couldn't remember anything to laugh at; she assumed the mage's good nature was causing her to do so.

Mern settled into the driver's seat, smiling at Janessa as she climbed into the seat next to him. "Easy now, you'd think this was the first time you've ever ridden." He knew the truth by the way her eyes flashed at the sight of the wagon. "It's not a long walk, but my things are heavy for these old bones. I hope you don't mind?" It amazed him at how easy it was at times. As he spoke to Janessa he handed several pieces of silver to the wagon's owner with an additional gold piece for the man to remain and not make a spectacle. Mern was pleased to see the man took the hint and the money with no questions asked.

"Oh I don't mind. I had an uncle like that once. He could hardly move about being only a hundred and fifty years old." Janessa's mood dimmed some at the memory; it was more of a story told to her when she was young from another traveling Halfling. She supposed it was true; there was nothing to prove otherwise. Janessa shrugged, it wasn't anyone she knew. "Are you going to the pit fights later today?"

Mern watched her with amusement; Halflings were always so active and full of energy. Shaking his head he answered, "No, I'm afraid not. I have business to attend to this evening. But I do hope you enjoy yourself." The two continued talking until reaching the gates of Hope.

All the while Janessa couldn't help wondering what it was about the old man that bothered her. She hated feelings like those, she preferred knowing what caused it instead of her intuition. She refused to acknowledge her intuition kept her from harm on more than a few occasions.

Janessa preferred to blame it on Viola and, in jest, would accuse her friend of casting a spell on her since Halflings were well known to follow their instincts. She knew she was the exception to the rule, often displaying the traits she learned from her human foster parents. Careful people, they never did anything outlandish or remotely dangerous. Going to the market proved to be the most exciting thing in their lives. As a result Janessa was forced to walk the line between what she'd been taught was right and what her instincts told her was the right thing to do.

That was the problem she was having with her feelings towards Mern. Her Halfling blood was telling her not to trust the old mage, to run and flee from him as fast as she could. But her human family taught her to be polite, to not judge someone unless they deserved it. Thus far, Mern had always shown her respect and been kind to her. What to do? The tug of war inside her raged even as Sherriff Tavers stopped them at the entrance to Hope.

Sherriff Tavers saw her long before stopping the wagon with a raised hand. With an eye on Hope's most notorious thief, Tavers began his usual line of questioning of Mern. "What brings you to Hope, stranger?" Janessa would've spoken on behalf of her new friend but Tavers raised a hand silencing her as soon as her mouth opened. "I know your business, Janessa."

Mern's face hid his chuckle by appearing friendly, if a bit concerned. "I'm a merchant in fine antiquities and rare objects, formerly of Renard's Company. I'm looking for a place to stay while I open my new business. My friend here has offered to show me around your fine city."

Sherriff Tavers listened to the old man as he studied every line on his face and hair on the old man's head. Tavers was careful to note the man's eyes shone bright, like a fierce fire not of their world burned within them. They held an intelligence in them he found unnerving and uncomfortable. Under normal circumstances, he would've let someone pass by then but there was something more he felt compelled to know. "You bringing anything with you? Weapons, potions, anything dangerous?"

To Tavers surprise the old man burst into laughter. "No, sorry my boy, but I don't carry anything like that with me." Mern noticed the man glance at his few carry on items in the back of the wagon and motioned towards them. "Nothing more than my personal affects, my merchandise will be coming once I've found a suitable shop. You may search them if you like, I have nothing to hide."

Tavers' eyes went from the old man's belongings to him. Realizing he hadn't been as covert as he thought, the Sherriff smiled nonetheless. "No need for that, I hope you enjoy your stay here."

Mern smiled at the implied meaning, he didn't plan to stay long, just until he finished his appointed task. "Thank you Sherriff, I'm sure I will." With a quick snap of the reins, the wagon began moving as the horses tried to get away from the hurtful slap to their backs.

Janessa watched the exchange in annoyance. Why did the Sherriff always treat her like that? He never caught her doing anything wrong, mischievous actions, yes, but that was all. Determined to have the final word, she turned in her seat and shouted back at the Sherriff, "Have a good day Sherriff! Don't worry about me, I'll stay out of trouble!" Happy with herself, Janessa sat back down smiling. "He's always like that."

As they continued along the narrow roads Mern smiled, thinking, I wonder why. He remained busy watching the buildings as they passed them, the history of the city was written on every wall.

Chapter 8

Like most cities, Hope had several inns and bars scattered within their limits. Of those the Horse's Head was on the lower rung, if the standards of society were to be the judge. To his credit, old man Winston worked tirelessly to make the Horse's Head the most comfortable and welcoming establishment in the city. While it was shunned by the elite in society, its income was one of the highest in the city. Never one to allow his pride to overwhelm his common sense, Winston took it all in stride. Even going so far as to recommend other establishments for their food, drink, or other niceties. The people weren't fooled and often stayed for the tight, comfortable confines that first caught their eye. Understanding his guests' opinion of him, Winston made a point to greet as many patrons as possible, often regaling them with tales of his adventures as a Marshall during his younger days. Many nights Janessa curled up near the fireplace in the common room listening to his tales. She heard them so often that she could retell them word for word, although she lacked Winston's flair for the dramatic.

All of that the Halfling explained to Mern as they approached the inn, a little more than a stone's throw from the city gates. Mern listened to her stories picking out bits and pieces he thought were relevant and could be used at a later date if needed. Once they came to a stop, he handed a silver piece to one of the stable hands waiting for travelers. "Feed and water please, that's a good boy." Mern turned to another, handing him a silver piece. "Mind giving me a hand with my trunk? Thank you my boy."

Janessa watched with interest at how the old man orchestrated the movements of Winston's stable boys with ease, demonstrating to her that he was a man accustomed to travel. As if everything were rehearsed, the first stable hand drove off towards the Inn's stables moments after the last of Mern's belongings were taken inside, leaving Janessa shaking her head. No matter how hard she tried, she could never make the simplest schedule work.

Mern sensed her thoughts. Halflings weren't known for their organizational skills, and patted her on the shoulder as a grandfather would've done, his warm smile was full of the same qualities. "It comes from years of experience my dear." He leaned down close to her and whispered with a wink, "Unless I'm mistaken, you won more than enough to do some traveling of your own. If you need any advice, don't hesitate to ask. Alright?"

Janessa smiled at his offer and nodded but she wondered how he knew about their winnings. It took her a moment before she remembered he gave them the hint about Berek.

Mern couldn't help but smile, he knew the thoughts winding through his little friend's mind but instead of feeling arrogant or even ashamed, he enjoyed himself. It'd been so long since he last dealt with someone who was an open book with little, if anything, to hide. "Don't worry child, you weren't the only ones that won a large sum on Berek's efforts. Come; let's enjoy the hospitality the Horse's Head has to offer." Mern guided her towards the entrance with his hand. He heard rumors and stories about the inn long before Janessa told him about it. It was a place that he longed to visit.

The Horse's Head never disappointed any patron, including an old mage whose true age was known only to himself. As soon as he opened the large heavy oak door the smell of roast beef, potatoes, and mead surged into the mage's senses. For a moment he closed his eyes, inhaling as deeply as he could, then repeated it three more times. He closed the door behind them with his head swimming from the rich scents in the air. Though pleased at how every smell wove together with the smell of cedar logs in the fireplace, Mern forced himself to regain his senses and take in as much as he could about his surroundings. As its reputation claimed, the common room was smaller in size than most, but the golden color of the finished wood covering the walls reacted with the fire giving the room a golden sheen. Though light came in through the common room's several windows the sunlight failed to match the fireplace and burning candles sitting on each table for light. He counted six medium sized tables, as well as a series of benches sitting about eight feet apart along the walls. In the center of the wall opposite from the door was a spiral staircase cut from a single oak tree and wide enough for two people to climb shoulder to shoulder. To the staircase's left was a large doorway Mern assumed led to the kitchen and a large bar where a rotund older man stood talking, laughing, and cleaning up after his patrons. In general, two barmaids would be working but that early in the day they weren't needed. Old man Winston didn't get where he was by not being frugal.

Mern noticed Janessa tugging on his long gray sleeve and pointing at the old man behind the bar. "That's Winston; he's really nice so he'll probably give you a room."

Mern forced his attention back to the Halfling after hearing her say he'd probably be given a room. He swore he'd been told they already acquired a room for him the day before. He dismissed it as unimportant, even one as intelligent as he wasn't immune to tricks of the mind.

"Winston, this is a friend of ours and we were wondering if you could give him a room?" Janessa's question caused Mern's heart to become lodged in his throat; he hadn't expected to be introduced in such a rude manner. To his surprise, the old man Janessa called Winston smiled and extended his hand.

"Aye, any friend of Janessa is a friend of mine." As Winston reached out his hand Mern could make out the scars from countless brawls on his face and hands. Despite the cheerfulness of the innkeeper's face, Mern was aware the man had seen much during his life. "We have one room left, its one silver piece a week or two copper per day. That don't include meals."

Mern returned the man's jovial smile, the man's past was of little importance at the moment as Mern took the offered hand in his own. "I must say sir, that the reputation of your inn is well deserved indeed."

The compliment caused the innkeeper's face to flush with gratitude. "Aye, we do our best," his smile remained warm and friendly as he finished, "but it'll still cost ye another silver piece for regular meals, anything extra will cost ye."

For the first time in years Mern broke into genuine laughter but it wasn't one of mirth. At least Mern didn't think so. He felt foolish to have sounded like so many others who wanted something free. "That's quite alright and very fair." Mern reached into his pocket and handed over four silver pieces. "There, I think two weeks should be enough to get us started, don't you think?"

Winston took the silver without twitching a muscle in his face then turned to the stable boy carrying his new guests' chest. "Take it to the last room on the left Stang, third floor." Without hesitation, the young man nodded and began hefting the chest up the staircase. With the task underway the innkeeper turned back to Mern, "If there's anything else ye need, just ask."

Mern nodded, thanking the man before turning to follow Stang to his room. He noted with interest, that the Halfling seemed to forget about him when she chased after the boy. Mern remembered what it was like to be young, and he wouldn't go through that again for anything in the world.

The climb to the third floor didn't take more than a minute, or so it seemed to Janessa. She never seemed to be able to spend more than that around Stang, either he was always in a rush or she moved too slow to catch him. Whatever the reason, he never seemed to notice her, pushing Janessa closer to the point of strutting around naked in front of him. Janessa tried to strike up a conversation with Stang during the climb to Mern's room, but without any luck. She sat on Mern's bed trying to figure out her next step. "I don't understand what's wrong with men. I mean, he's younger than me, but there's not another woman in Hope that can compare."

Mern smiled, though a voice deep within him screamed for him to do away with the prattling Halfling, he refused to do so. The fact she was the young mage's best friend was a valuable commodity he refused to waste. But he knew the real reason, despite her incessant talking about things he cared little or nothing about, she was almost like a granddaughter. He didn't quite think of it in those terms though, he liked her naïve innocence. Both she and Viola shared that trait, though for the life of him he couldn't understand how both the Halfling and mage shared that and wisdom beyond their years. Oh well, it mattered little, soon part of his plan would be complete and then he'd deal will the little thief. Unless of course he could convince her to leave, but that seemed unlikely as they were forming a bond. Mern enjoyed the challenge.

For now he wished to be alone with his thoughts, but he couldn't risk offending the Halfling. He sat next to her, patting her back. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with you, perhaps he already has a sweetheart."

Janessa's eyes widened, "I never thought about that. But he's much too young for that! He's only eighteen."

Mern fought back a smile, "But wouldn't he be too young for you then?"

Janessa wrinkled her nose and shook her head, "Of course not. I look younger than him."

"Ah, I see. My apologies, I didn't think it through." Young love, he mused, what a pain in the ass it was.

"Of course, if there is another woman that would explain a lot." Janessa's face changed from one in thought to one of action. "I got it!" She leapt off the bed and ran for the door. "Wait 'till I tell Viola!" In her haste Janessa almost forgot about Mern, she turned back to face him with an embarrassed look on her face.

Knowing what was coming Mern waved her off with a smile. "Go on, indulge yourself. Oh, Could you tell Viola I'd like to see her in about an hour for her studies?"

Janessa smiled, "Sure thing, she's probably done with her books by now." Without another word the door closed behind the Halfling leaving the old man alone with his thoughts.

Through magical means, not entirely his own, Mern managed to outlive even the longest lived Elves by nearly fifty years while keeping his own faculties. Never one to trust his fate to the abilities of others, it took him some time to trust in a spell he came across four hundred years earlier. The mage was about Viola's age and Mern was about sixty then, maybe a little younger. He couldn't remember his own age after all those years.

Try as he might, Mern couldn't remember the mage's name, but the spell the young man created was a masterpiece. Mern heard of the young man through several of his peers as a mage with a reputation as a scholar with limited ability. It'd been the first moment Mern ever knew of where a mage with limited power had developed such a powerful and useful spell.

Curiosity, it could be a terrible temptress as it could sway even the stoutest of hearts along the path of their destiny. While he believed it couldn't alter one's preordained path, Mern was a firm supporter that it was there to make one's life hell. That was how he held his greatest weakness, as an annoyance to be treated with as much contempt as one could sustain. After all, it was curiosity that brought his attention to such a spell. A simple traveling spell that, if done correct, would allow the user to travel to other plains of existence. It was believed time flowed differently on other plains, in those an instant could equal years in their current one. Mastering such a spell would allow one to become immortal. He only had to be on that plain for mere moments as needed.

Escaping the ravages of old age and death had a certain appeal to Mern. He saw friends and colleagues whither and die. It was a fate that caused one to question their faith in another world, an after life, as some called it. No, Mern liked the world he was in, and he was wiling to do whatever it took to remain there. With that thought process, he sought out the young mage.

The trip wasn't difficult with the ice and snow of winter nearly gone. Paths and roads that were impassable just a month earlier were open to travelers. Spring was always Mern's favorite time of year as the land renewed itself, much like a child learning to walk. Before too long it'd grow into something entirely different, until then he intended to enjoy himself. He could still smell the roses and tulips he passed on his journey, entire fields of them in some places where they could grow wild without the threat of humans plucking them to showcase their beauty. Such a wonderful time of year to begin a journey, one he believed would lead to the grandest gift of all.

Mern remembered the joy he felt while making his journey. In fact, everything passed quicker than he wished during his trip. With one to two hundred souls living in the farming village of Feloria, the village wasn't used to seeing travelers. He'd been surprised to hear of a mage in such a small community in the middle of no where, but despite his questions he wasn't one to turn down an opportunity provided to him.

The young mage had been discovered by another traveling mage, one of the white robes believing it his duty to inform others of a young upstart claiming the impossible. Being the highest of his order, the white mage insisted it was impossible for a low level brown robed mage to cast, much less create such a spell. Mern had pointed out the boy either was apprenticing to a powerful archemage or he'd been misled by one of the elders. Upset at having his opinion challenged, even so politely, the white robed mage left Mern alone and retired to his room. Mern, of course, ignored the huffing display by the indignant mage and weighed the possibilities. Surely, a lad such as the one described to him had a powerful master, Mern refused to believe such a story was made up no matter how incredulous it sounded

Those memories, as well as others, swelled in the old mage's mind while he sat in his room. Strange, he thought, that he could remember every detail except for their names. Why did the names of both magic users elude him so? Irritated, Mern shook his head and laid down on the soft bed for a short nap. He decided it wasn't important and closed his eyes. Even as he drifted off to sleep, the village of Feloria took root in his mind and he began to dream.

Chapter 9

Studying. Endless hours of studying was the lifestyle mages like Viola chose. That commitment was what it would take for her to become powerful and have her name immortalized in history. Viola accepted the requirements when she chose such a life for herself years earlier. She had other skills such as painting and she was decent with tools. Janessa told her on several occasions she'd make a great thief since picking locks was an art form, but she loved magic. The euphoric feeling that filled her when she cast a spell was beyond her ability to describe or comprehend.

Despite all of her studying, Viola didn't know how she'd get into the history books. War mages were renowned for their skill and power. Everyone put them on a pedestal but she didn't have the stomach for it, a fact she ignored until the battle after the pit fights. Becoming a chronicler was a highly valued position among magic users, but there was no glory or power in such a position she wanted. Being a king's fool was the worst choice imaginable but a king's advisor and magus, now that seemed promising. Viola smiled to herself as she studied the final spell from her spellbook. Repeating the incantation several times in her mind, she focused on the proper voce inflection as well as any hand motions or components that would be needed. She continued repeating the spell until a familiar warming sensation flowed over her. Closing her spellbook and smiling, she committed the four incantations to memory and decided on what path she'd take to reach her goal. Her name would be remembered throughout history, of that she was certain.

Not being one of religious faith, Viola muttered a silent prayer to any of the Gods that were listening, or cared, to thank them for aiding her with her magic. Satisfied she thanked everyone and thing she needed to, she placed her spell book in her pack, closing it as her eyes settled on the herbology book sitting off to the side. Her left hand started reaching for it on its own accord, an action she found curious but saw no reason to stop it. Just as her fingers brushed against the worn binding of the book the door burst open revealing an excited Janessa.

Viola pulled her hand away as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't. "Damn it Janessa, you scared the life out of me!" Viola slumped in her chair and took a few deep breaths. Why was she so short of breath?

Janessa paid her no mind, "You'll never guess what happened." She paused at seeing the look on her friend's face. "Are you alright? You look tired."

Viola bit back a sharp retort, Janessa was happy about something and she didn't want to upset her. "No, you just startled me is all." Viola rested her right hand over her left, not trusting it to do what she willed. Hoping Janessa wouldn't notice, Viola forced herself to relax, she hadn't been doing anything wrong. Viola smiled at her friend and it dawned on her that Janessa wasn't just happy, she was ecstatic. "What happened to you?" Viola got up and moved around the desk towards her friend, a teasing look on her face. "What's his name?"

Janessa's mouth dropped open in mock protest, "I don't meet that many Viola!" Her expression changed to one of innocence all children use when they know they're in trouble. "Stang." She answered, her voice low with a hint of embarrassment.

Viola crossed her arms trying to appear serious while also trying to hide a smile. "Again? I thought you gave up on him."

"I never gave up; I just waited for my second wind." Janessa cracked a sly smile.

Viola's mouth dropped in shock and protest, "Jenny!"

Janessa's sly smile broadened as she shrugged, "Not like that, at least not yet. Mern said he may have a sweetheart."

"If he does what are you..." The young mage's eyes widened when her friend's response fully registered. "Mern said it? He's in town then?" As soon as she spoke Viola could've smacked herself for such a stupid question. Of course he was, otherwise Janessa wouldn't be in front of her. "I mean, you two got back already?"

Janessa noticed Viola's surprise and... did she seem excited? Yes, Viola was excited but the Halfling chose to pretend she didn't hear the tone in her friend's voice. "It wasn't bad, he only had a few bags and he rented a wagon to carry everything here." She motioned in a vague direction. "He's down the hall taking a nap."

Viola's expression changed from contained excitement to one of disappointment. Janessa wanted to shake her head but with the look on Viola's face she thought better of it. "He is pretty old. I'd be surprised if he didn't sleep most of the day."

Viola glanced up ready to defend her soon to be teacher but at seeing the innocent look her friend wore she broke into laughter. "He is, isn't he?" She couldn't help but giggle at the thoughts she was sure were going through the Halfling's head.

Seeing Viola laugh caused Janessa to join in like it was an infectious disease. The two laughed until their sides hurt, neither one could stop due to sharing the same image in their minds. After a few minutes Viola managed to regain some control and wiped tears from her eyes and cheeks. "So..." She chuckled, "What are you planning for Stang? If he has a sweetheart there's not much you can do."

Wiping away her own tears of laughter, Janessa answered. "Oh there's plenty I can do. We could always give her a frog face or something."

Viola chuckled, "How come you always want to involve me in your schemes?"

The Halfling shrugged, "It'd be fun! Besides it was worth a try."

Viola looked at her knowingly, "Do I want to know what you're planning?"

Janessa smiled at her, "Probably not, but I'm sure you'll hear about it." Winking at Viola, Janessa headed for the door. When she grasped the doorknob and turned it she glanced back at Viola. "Remember, you won't get anywhere if you stop to count the wrinkles." Laughing she darted out of their room, closing the door behind her. Running for the stairs she heard, "Jenny!" come from their room. Laughing to herself Janessa continued running down the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her.

*****

"I don't understand why you'd choose this kind of life. I thought I did, but obviously that was a lie. How many others have you told me over the past five years?" Gilliam stood with his hands tucked into the outer pockets of his robes. He felt he knew the answers to his questions before asking them but this... this was something he hadn't expected. For over an hour he and his nephew sat alone, away from the camp to discuss those matters. It was obvious both men wished to reconcile, Berek in particular, since his uncle was also his only friend there. But try as he might, the cleric of Fallor couldn't convince the fighter to tell him the truth.

As much as Gilliam felt frustrated and betrayed, Berek felt worse. At least his uncle had a target for his feelings. That was something the young fighter didn't share. He was frustrated with the fact he didn't know where his strange power came from or how he controlled it, the power was something that was just there like the sun and the stars. As far as being betrayed, that was a feeling he became used to ten years earlier. He couldn't make his uncle understand he wasn't like the rest, though he knew betrayal at its worst moment he wasn't about to do the same to anyone else.

"None, I only told you I came here to sharpen my skills because I knew what would happen if I told you the truth." Answered Berek without flinching.

Gilliam threw his hands out to his sides in frustration. "You knew what would happen? This?"

For the first time all morning Berek smiled, though it was bitter and cynical. "No uncle, not this. Something far worse."

Gilliam ran his fingers through what little hair he had left trying to understand. "What could be worse than what happened? Being sold into slavery? Burned at the stake? Damn it Berek, I'm only trying to help you."

Berek let out a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. Gilliam was sure he knew what happened; he just wanted to hear Berek admit it. Why couldn't he be left alone? "That's what would happen, you'd want to help."

Gilliam's face twisted in confusion, "What's wrong with that? It's my duty as--"

"A cleric." Berek finished his uncle's sentence for him.

"Your uncle." He concluded his thought as he meant to while his nephew fidgeted before him. "The healing process can only begin when you lift the burden off of yourself. It's alright to be human."

Berek's eyes lifted to his uncle's, "Is it? When was the last time my father, or anyone in our family, settled for something less than perfect? Perfection is something that can only be achieved by the Gods, not mortals. We come from a wealthy family of artists uncle, nothing else can be tolerated. Being human isn't good enough, it never was."

Gilliam reached, resting a comforting hand on Berek's shoulder. "Perfection is impossible; your father never understood that." Sensing a turning point, Gilliam smiled at the young fighter sitting before him with tears running down his face. "You may not believe this but you've just taken the first step, it'll only become easier in time."

Berek wasn't sure why the tears came so freely, he made peace with himself long ago. He knew Gilliam wouldn't betray him, but the frustration still remained deep within him. His mind made up, he stood and embraced his uncle. Let him think he helped, Berek thought as he felt the embrace returned, he's not here to save me. Berek's thoughts turned to his frustration and pushed it further down into the depths of his soul where it remained hidden.

*****

"So touching. Pity we must wait." Two large figures stood some distance from the humans, watching the pair argue. "They must be separated. Cleric not important." The other nodded his agreement. As long as the two were together they were dangerous, that was understood by both of the figures.

After a moment, one of the figures turned, stepping out from their observation point and headed to the armory. The late morning sun highlighted the yellowish brown molted skin of the large Ogres. The Nursk Brothers, twins born and abandoned after their parents were killed during an attack from the Minotaur. Left to die as infants, Renard found them by accident, literally tripping over them while searching for spoils of war the Minotaur raiding party didn't take with them.

At first he planned to leave them, not wanting to deal with babies while he was trying to fund his company. But as he walked away Renard noticed neither of them made a sound, not the tiniest cry found its way past their lips. He was intrigued yet he knew not why. He looked up at a rustling sound from the bushes as his trusted pet Fech, then only a few years old, strode out eyeing the infants.

Renard smiled, "Thinking of dinner Fech? I don't think you'd like the taste of these."

The gargoyle's gaze shifted from the twins to his master. No, he didn't want to eat them. Ogre flesh was like Goblin, tasteless and rubbery. Another idea occurred to him though, if his master had the patience to see it to the end. "Keep them."

Renard glanced over, he was sure he hadn't heard right. "What Fech?"

The gargoyle let out a deep breath that resembled a growl, at that sound anyone close to him, with the exception of Renard, tended to back away. "Keep them. Raise them to fight." Fech's Common wasn't good and since his master didn't speak Draco he hoped he'd understand.

Renard's face twisted in an unusual way as he thought over what Fech said. Since the moment his pet hatched he showed a keen intellect. Renard was aware that Fech was already smarter than himself so he respected the gargoyle's opinions, even if he disagreed. That, however, wasn't one of those times, his mind began working along the same lines as Fech's.

He wanted to start his own gladiatorial games within his traveling company of merchants as another attraction. With Ogres being notoriously difficult to capture when full grown, and even harder to control, but infants... Renard's mind began running along as he pondered the possibilities. Already the size of human four year olds, the twin Ogres could be taught and trained by himself. The best part? They would be loyal to him and him alone.

He motioned to some of his slaves to gather the infants. With scared looks, the men did as they were instructed while Renard walked over, placing his hand on Fech's head and stroked his neck. "You never fail me Fech; there'll be an extra treat for you at dinner tonight." The gargoyle gave a sigh of approval; Fech knew he was the one thing in the world Renard could bring himself to love.

Satisfied, Renard turned back to the infants, who enjoyed the fear the humans holding them displayed. "Now, what to call you two?" As if answering his question, one of the infants made a sound resembling "nursk". Thus Renard began calling them the Nursk Brothers and one of the biggest draws in Gladiatorial games began.

Twenty years later, the Nursk Brothers had duel responsibilities as fighters, though their matches were always previously decided, and as guards for Renard's Company. As Renard predicted all those years earlier, they were indeed loyal to him to the point they'd happily die at his command.

The previous day they watched one of their close comrades die at the hands of the human. Berek was supposed to die, but the Lizard man forgot its part in the bargain. As a result, none in the company were more upset with losing one of their own than the Nursk Brothers. Once night fell, they planned to wait until Berek was either alone or left the grounds. Either way they were prepared to follow their instructions. Revenge was never as sweet as it was then, they could barely control themselves as their anticipation mounted.

Chapter 10

Viola stood by the door, hesitant to knock and possibly wake her new master from his nap. She knew it'd be best to wait until he summoned her to begin lessons, but Viola's inquisitive mind was full of questions. After Janessa left to pursue her desires, something the young mage never understood, she started reading through the text on herbology. She began feeling a new sense of strength and seemed to lose herself within an hour of starting.

She heard other students at the magic school talk about it, how they felt a growing sense of power with each spell they mastered. At first Viola understood and felt much the same when mastering her first two spells but was at a loss to understand, much less explain, why it hadn't continued with the following two spells. Assuming she advanced beyond the basic spells and no longer aided her growth, Viola decided to push her limits. That proved to be the driving force in her sneaking into her master's laboratory and "acquiring" a few scrolls. Lucky for her, there wasn't an enchantment of protection on them, her master felt it wasn't worth the trouble. Being quick, Viola was able to copy them onto her own scrolls and returned the originals before they were missed. After all her efforts, she'd only been able to master three of them thus far: levitation, fire and repulse. The other handful were still in her spell book but useless to her.

Despite her hunger and yearning, the fact that a simple, battered text book about plants made her feel powerful scared her enough that she began thinking about what they needed if they did help the fighter on his quest. Janessa reassured her several times since that she knew where the entrance to the tunnels was but Viola had her doubts. Everyone seemed intent on the fabled treasure, everyone except her and the other man that hung back from the fight until near the end. Though he said nothing about the treasure, she had no reason to trust either of them, and now she began to doubt Janessa.

Viola didn't like the feeling her thoughts created so she decided to try her hand at finding the entrance and thought of a locator spell. From everything she read and heard at the school, the spell could help you locate anything from a lost button to an escape from a labyrinth. Best of all, the spell wasn't complex, anyone could cast it. The only trouble was, she didn't know any locator spells or where to find one aside from Mern.

There she was, a simple spell away from solving a major issue and she couldn't decide on knocking or not. Convinced she was driving herself insane she turned from the door, she'd find another way. Much to her surprise it opened by the time she took her second step.

"Come child, time passes us too quickly to not take advantage of it." Viola was uncertain if she heard Mern's voice with her ears or in her mind. Either way she obeyed, stepping through the doorway. "Welcome child, I'm afraid it isn't much but then I just arrived. How may I be of help to you?" Mern was seated by a small table with a candle illuminating a large spell book. Viola thought it strange that he used a candle when the sun was still high in the sky.

As though he read her mind about the candle, Mern smiled while nodding. "It's an old habit. I spent many years of my youth studying in dungeons where the sun couldn't hope to reach." He shrugged, "There are times you must learn to appreciate peculiar oddities."

Viola smiled, shaking her head. She understood about studying in those types of places, as they were common at the magic school. Though not one of her favorite places to study, she had to admit that dingy, dark dungeons did serve their purpose. "I appreciate all that helps me learn more of my craft."

Mern's smile took on an amused quality. "Very diplomatic of you child." Chuckling, he shook his head. "Pay it no mind, I know how the young mind works." He closed his spell book and motioned to Viola to sit in the other chair in the room. Of all of the places he stayed during his long life, that inn was the most comfortable.

Viola's face flushed as she accepted his invite. "Thank you." She felt embarrassed after attempting to sound like he wanted her to sound. "Be true to yourself and the magic will flow." She remembered her school master telling her once and didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until Mern nodded.

"A wise saying." Mern paused a moment watching her. "Tell me, what do you think it means?"

What? Viola's mind raced as she struggled to focus on his question. It was simple, yet she didn't expect it as a rebuke for speaking. To have a question given because he wanted to hear her understanding of the phrase was unique. At first she was confused, Viola never thought about its meaning beyond being something Master Poumous used to help his pupils focus. She never thought it had any significant meaning before but she did what a student was expected to. Viola took the saying, examining it word by word before answering. "If you don't lie about yourself the magic will be more focused?"

It was the best answer Viola could think of and it made sense to her. She couldn't help but feel ignorant for taking so long to understand its meaning. Fighting off a sudden urge to apologize to Master Poumous for ever thinking ill of him, she forced those thoughts aside and watched her new master for his response.

To Viola's delight, Mern smiled while nodding. "Very good, I see your school master has taught you well." He sat back and watched her reaction, he was pleased to see her smile and stop acting as though she were someone else. Mern steeped his fingers as he thought through his options. The magic was powerful inside of her. Once she learned to control herself and let the magic flow from her there would be few in the world able to challenge her. That was why she'd been drawn to the herbology book. He enchanted it long ago to draw those like her to it. "You have enormous potential my dear, but I fear you don't yet see the entire landscape."

Viola's smile faded somewhat, she was never told about her potential, only that she and the handful of other students had the same future available. The good feeling of the compliment was dulled by the strange critism. Mern's thoughtful expression softened while he read her question through her facial contortions. "Whether it's due to your teaching, or your own shortcomings, you see the world in black and white. You will learn to see it in all its colors, good and bad." He paused motioning around him, "Around us are few absolutes, only the vaguest of ideas. In a world surrounding us with constant uncertainty, the one constant is our Art. Magic comes from inside us. We are the vessels of its passage. If we're untrue to what we truly are then the magic hesitates to answer our call. You must pay attention and learn from everything you see and hear. Understand?"

Viola nodded, she learned a great deal in the last few minutes. Humility and wisdom seemed to go hand in hand. In just a few phrases Mern showed everything her school master told her had been important. With new understanding she nodded, "Yes master, everything has become clear."

Mern smiled at her. He witnessed her mood go from highs to lows and back again like a bird in the wind. She needed to learn better control over her emotions, but that would come with added discipline. "What robes do you expect to wear once you've passed the trials?"

His question caught her by surprise, until then she never considered the thought. Apprentices, such as her, wore brown robes. Designed to build a strong work ethic and display to them their low level status as mages, the brown robes were both an insult and an inspiration. Few were content to remain a brown robe as the muddy color represented the skill and potential one was likely to achieve. Those choosing to remain a brown robe were either apprentices trying to find their path or the Chroniclers. The Chroniclers were mages with little ability but decided to remain with their chosen art as historians, mathematicians, or any other kind of book keeper the Masters of the Realm deemed necessary. Thus if any magic user had a question or dispute over spell components, magical feats, or who did what they only needed to inquire the Chroniclers within the Hall of Learning in Talanthia, city of magic.

While the brown robes were the lowest position in the realm of magic, the white and black robes were the opposites of magic as a whole. While both were the purest and the emptiest of color, they also represented both extremes in beliefs. White robed mages embodied good and purity of soul. Wishing to destroy the darkness of the world but unable to do so, as they could only cast the spells of goodness, being forbidden to cast any spells of darkness by Nirou, God of magic.

As their counterparts, the black robed mages wished to dominate the weaker of the two, which in their opinion was the white robes, but not to destroy them. Being able to cast far more sinister spells of destruction, decay, and fear instead of the "clean" combat spells of magic the white robes used, left the black robes often trying to tempt their fellow mages with promises of power and glory instead of destroying them.

With one side wishing to study and use their magic to better the world and the other wishing to enslave it, Nirou achieved the balance of power he felt was needed to maintain the world. To better strengthen the balance he granted the ability for a majority of mages to use magic from both extremes, but not the most powerful of spells. His decision caused one of the greatest debates in history to start with no one able to claim victory.

The ability of the neutral mages to use both good and evil spells helped them to believe they are the most powerful. While the inability of the gray robes to cast the most powerful spells of both extremes seemed a disadvantage, in reality, having access to the central spells as well as less powerful incantations of their opposite brethren gave them an edge. Despite that, the white and black robes each continued believing they were the most powerful magic users. Since the birth of the gray robes, the God Nirou guaranteed the balance will be maintained until the end of time. Being the neutral of the three guarantees up to eighty percent of all mages will wear the gray robes, being few have the conviction to be completely good or completely evil.

As such, the Wizarding Council in Talanthia consists of one black robe, one white robe, and one gray robe known also as the Masters of the Realm, meaning the realm of magic. Of course, many misunderstood them. These and other histories are taught to all mages the moment they attend the small local schools.

Those memories moved through Viola's mind while she thought over Mern's question. She wanted power, but that was the same as any other magic user. She never believed in a cause, good or bad but she heard stories of what a black robed mage was capable of doing. Casting spells such as them would put her in the annals of history, of that she had little doubt. After what felt like hours she answered, "I want to wear the gray robes." She wasn't shocked or surprised with her answer, it felt right.

Mern nodded, watching her. His bushy white eyebrows raised in mild surprise allowing her to see his eyes. "Why the gray? Surely the black are more appealing, far more power there for the taking."

Viola felt intimidated, had she chosen wrong? Had she upset her master? She took a deep breath and swallowed, he told her to be true to herself. "Yes, their power is inviting, but I'd rather have knowledge and kindness to help me as well as power."

Mern listened to her without a twitch of his face to betray his thoughts. He'd chosen wisely, she would prove to be everything he hoped for and more. "You answered correctly and true to yourself, child." He smiled at her visible relief, "Now that that's out of the way, I understand you wish to learn a spell. One of the moderate difficulties, if I'm not mistaken. Shall we begin?"

Unsure of how he knew her intention, Viola began explaining the spell she needed, or felt was missing something, some small overlooked detail. Mern listened, nodding throughout her spoken concerns. "I... I'm not sure what else I could do. I've checked everything three times, from what I can see it's correct."

Mern nodded his understanding, "But you believe you're doing something in error."

"There can be no other reason..." Viola's voice trailed off while she once again went over everything on her mental checklist.

"What are your intentions?" Mern's tone was mater-of-fact.

Viola paused before answering. "Lecotah."

Mern nodded with immense patience he didn't feel at the moment. If a mage couldn't scribe a spell properly it was useless, and often proved deadly if the habit wasn't corrected. "I see, therein lies your problem."

Viola stared at him in confusion, "What's that Master?"

Mern smiled at her, being called "Master" would've filled him with pride at another time. Now, it seemed a penance he had to pay. Pay it he would, there wasn't time to find another. Instead of answering her question, he pushed a blank piece of parchment and a quill pen towards her. "Simple mistakes lead to failures the scope of which you can't imagine." Viola shifted in her seat, she never saw anyone change their mood so quick except for her school master. "I am far more difficult than your former master." He seemed to read her mind. "I demand nothing but the precision of excellence from my apprentices. Simple mistakes like incorrectly scribing a spell could get yourself, and those depending on you, killed. That won't happen to me. You will write 'Lecotah' two hundred times until the words glow bright enough to dazzle me."

Unsure of herself, but noting the difference in pronouncement, she took hold of the quill, dipped it into the ink well, and began to write. The feeling of tears of anger and hurt feelings began to well up inside of her. He could've told her about her mistake instead of attacking her like that. She snuffed back her tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction of watching her cry.

When she finished the third word she jumped when Mern's hand squeezed her shoulder. "There can be no stupid mistakes like this, ever, or you place those you care about in great danger." Mern's voice sounded soft and gentle compared to a moment earlier, causing her anger and pain to melt away. He was looking after her, doing his best to guide her towards her dreams of being a powerful mage. Sighing, she began the fourth word, if only her former master had been so adept.

The amount of wisdom Mern bestowed upon her since entering his room more than made up for what she hadn't learned under Master Poumous. She'd been nothing more than an unfocused fool for all those years, now Viola intended to repay all those wronged through her incompetence. Viola would remember all who meant well towards her when she took her rightful place next to a king. Perhaps King Jerrard of Tallas, he was said to be a kind and just king. Those thoughts were for another time, now was the time to learn from her mistakes.

Chapter 11

A peaceful night settled on Hope as most readied for bed, a glowing red ember being the only telling sign that someone stirred. Galin sat outside his market stall puffing on his pipe. Most Dwarves would've looked on him with ridicule and disgust for adopting one of the human's vile practices. He shrugged off the thought, to the Abyss with their opinions and beliefs. Dwarves were notorious for their xenophobic beliefs as many of their race spends their entire lives below fresh air.

Those that chose to leave the safety of the Mountain Kingdom often took to life among the other people in the world. Humans were fond of the metal smith abilities of the Dwarves and paid handsomely for the trinkets, weapons, even apprenticeships. Though few Dwarves took humans as their apprentice, being it took forty years before a Dwarf was deemed suitable to work on his own. With their shortened life spans humans would spend much, if not all of their lives, learning the Dwarven trade. For some it proved worth the time as they were able to learn with the finest craftsmen the world had ever known.

Even the Elves looked beyond their own isolationism and invited Dwarven craftsmen to design a temple or other structure the Elves were unable to construct. As a result of their abilities, Dwarves were often hired to design and build prisons, which Halflings took as an insult, and fortifications during the threat of war, which was often, between the humans.

The result of those journeys and friendships built often resulted in the Dwarves earning up to five times more gold than their cousins choosing to remain in their kingdom. To the Dwarves remaining behind, their wondering cousins seemed to take on the habits and beliefs of those in the outside world. It came to a head seventy years earlier during which a brutal separation of the two took place. The Mountain Dwarves remained behind in their kingdom beneath the mountains while those wishing to leave were exiled from the kingdom, their return being punishable by death.

Like their ancestors in Praxus, the exiled Dwarves soon began working on their own kingdom located under the rolling hills of Vermand. There they applied the skills that had been passed down for generations as well as those learned from humans such as farming, animal husbandry, and trading. Their kingdom, known as Vermand Sound, began to thrive as their trading center became legendary. Despite the bitter divorce from their kinsmen over their differing opinions, they continued to refuse admittance into their new kingdom to the other races without an invitation, staying true to the old ways. Change as they may, the distrust remains present towards the other races.

Galin harrumphed at the memory of leaving his ancestral home while puffing on his pipe. To call him too human was rewarded with a smile. He loved humans, they were better than Elves in his opinion. Humans were nearly always willing to listen to a Dwarf's opinion on almost anything, in particular when it came to stone crafting or metallurgy. On the latter, Galin's family was the best, had been for several generations. His great, great grandfather invented the art form, in many Dwarven minds. Dwarven steel was much more refined than the clumsy iron weapons the humans used at the time and far sturdier than anything the Elves could make from wood and just as beautiful. Yes, his family always had the talent to work metal and he assumed that was the driving force behind why he cared so much for the humans. They appreciated the work as even the lowest of them nodded their admiration.

Galin missed his ancestral home, but life was better for him now. Every day brought new adventures. There were always a few that liked to haggle over the price of a bracelet, the purity of a necklace, or the functional ability of a knife. For the first time in a long while he sold everything faster than he thought possible. He brought enough to last two weeks at Hope but after two days he closed except for the occasional mending of chain mails or some other small service. He sent his nephew and his two assistants to Vermand Sound ahead of him, where they'd arrive by the following night to put his earnings into the family keep. He planned on following in a couple of days, the area around Hope was quiet and cool that time of year and he wanted to relax. Renard would be upset with him leaving, but he paid off his rental stall for the rest of the week. Unlike most of the others, he didn't believe in contracts, a man's word was his bond. Far more meaningful in the Dwarf's eyes. Besides, he didn't much care for the idea of being indebted to someone. There were far better ways for one to spend his life. With that thought on his mind Galin sat back and continued puffing on his pipe while watching a pair of Ogres attempt to make their way through the shadows. Despite their attempt, Ogres were horrible at stealth, and their stench gave away their identities at once. "By the hammer, what are those two idiots up to?" Galin mumbled to himself as one of the Nursk Brothers tripped over a pile of wood. The Dwarf watched them and shook his head, they may be clumsy but only a fool would challenge them. At least they waited until dark, Galin thought dryly.

"Watch your step, Narsa!" The second brother caught the other when he began to fall, both making enough noise to wake the dead.

Narsa, the stronger of the two, gripped his brother so tight it would've broken the bones of another race when he caught himself. "Think it better to leave in daylight?"

Kruge, the smarter of the two and the originator of their plan, shook his head. "Berek leave soon. We must be ready." After a quick motion from him, Narsa turned and continued towards the end of camp.

This was their moment to avenge their fallen comrade and to please their master. As they decided before, it'd be best to ambush the fighter and the cleric. They would ensure the cleric's quick death and keep him from healing Berek. Their master and benefactor would reward them for removing such a pest as the human was proving to be. Neither of them could wait to dip their fingers in his blood and devour his heart while it continued to beat.

Galin sat unnoticed by the two as they made their way towards the end of the camp. Galin set down his smithing hammer he'd taken to carrying with him over the years for protection. Funny thing was, Galin didn't notice that he picked it up, it was a reflexive action. Though he was certain they weren't after him, one could never be too careful. He was certain his pipe would've alerted them when they passed, but he figured even the distinctive smell of tobacco couldn't overpower the stench of Ogre.

Galin held the pipe out, eying it lovingly having carved it out of a piece of hardwood several years earlier. It'd been his first attempt at making one and as far as he was concerned, it couldn't have been done any better. If those two had been anyone else, or if they'd come for him, he might well be dead by now. "It'll take more than those two to do me in like that." Galin placed the pipe back in his mouth and continued puffing on it in thought. After a moment he shook his head, it wasn't his fight.

*****

Closing his eyes and the small book he kept in his breast pocket, Gilliam began praying to Fallor. It'd been a difficult and trying day but he could feel the end draw nearer. He'd been able to break through Berek's hard exterior and exorcized some of the young man's demons exorcized in the light of truth. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to think of his nephew as a black soul. He believed the young man was corrupted, but it wasn't his soul that was in danger, he could see that now, it was his life. Gilliam always suspected his brother was a cruel man, he thought as much when they were children when he killed squirrels daily with his slingshot. For as long as he could remember, it amazed him no one else thought it strange for a young boy to take so much delight in the needless death of his fellow creatures. But Gilliam saw it just as he also noticed his brother's glee at causing pain. Therefore Berek was corrupted as a punishment, not on himself, but on his father. Gilliam couldn't save his older brother, spiritually or physically, but he could help his nephew.

Gilliam concluded his prayer, asking for justice for his brother Saul and forgiveness for his own misdeeds. Though his intention was just, he let his beliefs cloud his judgment by allowing himself to condemn his nephew for abilities neither of them understood. He could only guess at what Saul did, but he would not allow his judgment to be impaired further. For the first time since he took on the robes of a cleric, he committed the spells all clerics carried to memory. The book only held the most basic of clerical spells to heal, defend, and turn. Each one floated off the paper as he read them, filling him with such a feeling of comfort he never felt. He was ready, armed with his faith and the spells granted to him by Fallor. Calmly, he found himself wondering if Berek felt the same way before entering the arena.

Of course he doesn't, was Gilliam's first thought. His nephew may have been a stranger to him until that afternoon, but he knew Berek didn't like the killing that took place. Berek tolerated it, that much Gilliam saw in the young man after each of his fights. After the carnage left in his wake none that ever saw his face could mistake it for anything but sorrow.

Gilliam lifted himself to his feet, his prayers finished and his faith reinforced. Though that night would most likely prove to be a waste of time, he would stand at Berek's side and hesitate to aide him no more. Ready, Gilliam straightened his robes and turned to leave just as Renard entered his tent.

"Pardon the interruption, but I wonder where you're planning to go tonight. Surely, Berek has informed you of my orders." Though it wasn't a question Renard locked his hard gaze on the cleric's eyes.

Gilliam, to his credit, didn't flinch and returned the hard look instead. "I'm aware of no orders. As for where I intend to go, that is my business. I'm a cleric of Fallor, not a slave that must report to you."

Renard's look remained. "You may not belong to me, but it's advisable to inform me of your leaving. We wouldn't want any misunderstandings over you taking one of my slaves do we?" The flush rising in Gilliam's face made Renard smile. "As for orders, I instructed the young man not to get himself killed doing something stupid. Dying with a bandit's sword in your back is no way for a man of his abilities to die. No honor." Renard's tone softened yet remained hard. "I know it may not seem so, but I care for him as I do for everyone here. I give them more freedom than others in my standing. Do you disagree?"

Gilliam wanted to say something, if to achieve nothing more than to denounce Renard as a tyrant but he couldn't. Renard hadn't been lying, at least as far as he could tell. Renard smiled as if he could read the cleric's thoughts. "There are some groups in my camp that want him dead. If he continues to leave on his own, I can't help him."

Gilliam now understood he was being maneuvered for a purpose he didn't yet understand. He assumed Renard wanted Berek to remain in camp, possibly for one of those groups Renard just mentioned. Gilliam changed his demeanor, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "If you want to know, I'm going to Hope to see some old friends. I finished treating the wounded from this evening's fights and my other robe is covered in blood."

Renard watched Gilliam with a trained eye. He could tell if someone was lying to him but his gift failed him then. The cleric seemed so damn sincere that he couldn't be sure. Fech told him the cleric hadn't joined the fight with the bandits until it was all but decided. Everything he'd been told and witnessed contradicted each other. Renard wanted to believe he was lying, that Gillian wouldn't be with his nephew for another attack. In the end, Renard decided following his instincts would be wise and smiled, "Very well Gilliam, I trust you'll have a safe journey."

Gilliam's stoic face remained despite the relief surging through him. "Thank you, I'm certain it will prove quite dull." With a final nod Renard stepped out of the tent and headed back to his pavilion. When he was alone, Gilliam let out a deep breath and rubbed sweat from his brow. He wasn't sure if he outsmarted himself or Renard, the one thing he was certain of was that everything about that day felt queer to him. After a moment he took a deep breath and thanked Fallor for his guidance. He felt the strength and confidence return, if it had been a victory then it was the first of many that night. Something or someone waited for them, of that he was now certain.

Gilliam turned to leave but paused at the tent's entrance, his gaze went to his studded mace propped against a storage chest. He hadn't planned to take it with him, but now he felt drawn to it. Gilliam's pause was brief and at the end of it he decided on taking his preferred weapon. He planned to go unarmed, since there was little danger to be found in a tunnel he felt his clerical spells would be more than enough. He wasn't sure why he was so confident, but that changed after Renard's visit. Hefting the two feet long weapon, he slung it over his shoulder with its custom made sling, hanging low enough at his right side that he could use it in an instant. He swung his traveling cloak over his shoulders to hide the weapon. Ready at last, he pushed aside the tent flaps and stepped out into the cool night air.

Chapter 12

From his vantage point, Berek watched Renard as he left Gilliam's tent and strode, rather smug, towards his own pavilion. The fighter kept himself busy sharpening his sword when he saw the company's owner approach. Berek kept sharpening his blade while watching the man with a sardonic smile. Renard would most likely be trying to learn what Berek's plans were, or to turn his uncle against him, or both. Such a shame his master wasn't as adept at manipulation as he believed. Berek knew his uncle well enough that he was certain he'd try to save the young man's soul. Too bad, he thought, that Renard couldn't understand the importance of such things in people's lives.

Berek's own beliefs were strengthened when Gilliam left his tent. With a smile, the young fighter sheathed his sword and inspected the knife he kept in his boot for emergencies. Satisfied both were sharp enough, he put the dagger back and slid from his perch in a tree just above the stalls along Main Street. He left the tent city an hour earlier so he and Gilliam wouldn't be seen leaving together, though he was sure it was a useless precaution as Renard's pet Fech had to be somewhere watching them. At least he saw the Nursk Brothers leave twenty minutes earlier to set up their ambush. He toyed with the idea of ambushing them but quickly dismissed it, even at his best and with surprise on his side he wouldn't survive. At least this way he knew they were out there waiting for him, allowing him to prepare for what was to come. Those thoughts finished working through his mind as he landed, with perfect timing, in front of his uncle. A second's hesitation and they would've collided.

Berek's sudden appearance was nearly his last as Gilliam's mace missed his head by inches, and that was only due to Gilliam recognizing his nephew in time. "Damn it! What in blazes do you think you're doing?

Gilliam's agitation was apparent while he reshouldered his mace and smoothed his robes, but his red face only deepened. In response Berek shrugged, "Just wanted to make sure you're not distracted."

"Not distracted?" Gilliam eyed his nephew with a look capable of killing. "Cause me to have a heart attack and I'll show you a distraction!" After a moment he realized there had to be a reason for his nephew's action. It could only be two things, either he wasn't ready or he hoped Gilliam's strike would've... No, he refused to finish his thought deciding instead on the alternative. "You know something."

The only hint he was right came as a nod from Berek, a motion causing the cleric to thank Fallor for his reflexes. "I saw the Nursk Brothers leave a while back. They'll have an ambush in place for me once we're beyond the market place."

Without a wasted motion or hint of what he was doing, Berek started walking towards the market place. Gilliam hurried to catch up, his robes proving to be a hindrance to speed or stealth. "Wouldn't it be wiser to remain here then?" As soon as he asked it Gilliam feared the answer.

"Renard came to see you. What do you think?" Berek spoke without a pause in his step.

Gilliam's heart fell into a bottomless pit. "It'd be safe for the night."

Berek nodded, "But tomorrow their weapons will be coated in poison or some other scheme of his. Better to meet my fate than wait for it."

Gilliam remained silent as they continued on their way. It wasn't until a voice hailed them towards the end of the market place that they paused. "Nice night for an ambush." The cleric tried to see the voice's owner but all he could make out was the occasional red glowing ember.

"Nice and cool tonight. Been out long, Galin?" Berek recognized the Dwarven smith's voice. On more than a few occasions the fighter brought his damaged armor or weapons to him to be repaired or traded. Over the years the two developed a friendship.

The Dwarf chuckled, sitting forward and allowing the light from the moon to light his face, more for the cleric's benefit than Berek's. "Not too long. Nice night for a smoke."

"And an ambush?" Gilliam asked, then swallowed hard at seeing the Dwarf nod.

"About twenty minutes ago. They were trying to sneak out but between the smell and noise you couldn't miss them." Galin chuckled at the memory.

Berek nodded, Gilliam thought they were being too casual about the situation but before he could say anything Galin emptied his pipe and placed it in an inner pocket of his vest. "Begging your forgiveness, but they were better armed than you."

Berek couldn't help but chuckle, "Better weapons never won out over a better man, last I checked."

Galin nodded, "But it makes it a bit easier, lad." He stood to his full four feet, stretched, then picked up his hammer. "We best get moving then."

Try as he might, Gilliam couldn't believe his eyes, it seemed they picked up another member. His surprise doubled when Berek spoke. "We?"

Galin shrugged, "Humans are ten to a copper piece, good ones are ten to a silver piece, and--"

"Friends are worth a hundred gold pieces." Gilliam finished the proverb.

Galin looked at him a moment before shrugging, "I was going to say Customers but we can go with that." His eyes sparkled. It was one of the rare moments he showed his emotions in front of humans.

Berek understood and clapped the Dwarf on his shoulder, "Welcome to our band."

"What about your shop?" Gilliam never saw anyone walk away from their livelihood so easily.

Galin shrugged again, "Nothing there. Sent the others home with the money after everything sold. Besides," he tossed his hammer in the air and caught it; an action the cleric was sure would've taken his own arm off, "a little fun keeps one young, lad." Without another word, two fighters and an astounded cleric, continued on their way out of Renard's camp.

*****

"Finished!" Viola couldn't believe her elation at finishing her punishment. She laid the quill down and rubbed her sore hand. In front of her "Lecotah" was written two hundred times on a piece of parchment. To her surprise, the last hundred glowed, the last of them written were the brightest of all. Most important, she could feel the magic swell in her like a rising tide. She learned the spell!

Mern glanced at the parchment and smiled, "You take instruction well." He set it aside, "I hope you understand the importance of every detail child."

Viola nodded, "Yes, thank you Master. But there's something I still don't understand... how, or why, do I feel like this." Words escaped her when she tried to describe the feeling of power and ecstasy threatening to overwhelm her when she studied and used the magic.

Mern smiled at her, knowing what caused her struggle. "It's something all magic users feel when they work their art. Each of us are vessels of incredible power the likes of which only the Gods had known at one time. It's nothing to fear, but remember you must control the magic. If you allow it to control you then your death will be horrible."

Viola nodded, she heard the same thing many times at the magic school but until then she never truly understood how much meaning master Poumous' words held. She felt the power surge before, but nothing like it was just then. Now that she felt the power flowing inside of her she wanted more. Mern saw the hunger in Viola's eyes, realizing what he started. "As you know, you'll grow physically weaker after each spell. The higher level the spell the more strength it'll consume and the longer you'll need to recover." He paused a moment before continuing, "I tell you this, not to insult you, but to caution you. For ambitious mages such as yourself, the temptation to learn faster and use more powerful magic is only natural. But if you cast a spell far beyond your abilities it won't work, but sometimes magic has a will of its own. It may allow you to cast the spell, but it would mean your death and a tortured existence after that."

Mern paused long enough to let his lecture be absorbed. When he was certain it had, he continued by handing over a scroll case with thirty scrolls in it. Viola's eyes widened, then turned to her master. In answer Mern nodded, "These are yours; they are all in the range of your abilities. Copy them into your spell book without altering them. It will take you a month, most likely two to master all of these. Once you do you will be tested. Understood? Good. That's all for this evening. You've done well so far, child. I trust you won't disappoint me."

Without seeing or witnessing a word or motion Viola found herself back in the hallway, her arms full with the scroll set given to her. "Thank you Master, you won't be disappointed." Excited, she made her way down the hall to her room. Wanting to get started with her studies she barely remembered Janessa and their agreement. If there was a treasure to be found she couldn't back out now, despite her feelings.

Viola put the scrolls in her room and was sure to seal them in an enchanted trunk she used to store her magical items. Thus far her collection was lacking but it was growing, thanks to her master's contribution. Thinking it strange that she hadn't heard from Janessa for so many hours, she paused at the door after making sure everything was secure. She was concerned but it wasn't the first time her friend went her own way when she had an interest in a man. Viola wasn't sure if she'd ever understand the Halfling. Living life so free was something she could never see herself doing. Viola had an idea where to look for her, Stang was a stable boy after all.

*****

Grateful the other stable boys had their fair share of the work to do, Janessa closed the door to the stable boy's quarters and made her way through the hallway, finishing the adjustments to her shirt. Not a bad day, she thought. She had been intent on asserting herself and being more aggressive towards Stang, being coy was her strong point. Janessa couldn't stop smiling; she got everything she wanted out of him. A creature enslaved to her passions, Janessa learned long ago to yield to them.

Now she had business to complete, she was certain where the emergency entrance to the caves would be found and as much as she appreciated her time with a man, the promise of gold proved to be far more alluring. If that handsome fighter hadn't lied then they'd all be able to retire. If he tried to betray them, well she hadn't planned for that. He seemed honest enough and if the rumors about the various beasts and guardians charged with protecting the treasure were true, then he and his friend would be needed and welcomed. She had to admit that she doubted anything but vermin were in the tunnels after all those years. People made up the most interesting stories when they didn't want something searched.

Janessa was wondering if Viola heard those same stories when she turned a corner and ran into her, literally. The collision knocked both to the floor, causing both to offer their apologies to one another. Once they recognized each other's voice they burst into laughter.

Wiping the tears from her eyes Viola was the first to speak. "I was looking for you."

Janessa held her sides against the pain of her laughter. "Looks like you found me." The two began laughing again, that time it lasted for several minutes. The laughter had a cleansing effect on them both, for a time all worries were forgotten and any fears as to what they would find in the tunnels disappeared.

Once their laughter faded both friends got to their feet, each helping the other. Now in a more dignified position, Viola brushed out her robes as best she could. "How'd it go with Stang?"

Janessa flushed, she almost forgot about him in the turmoil. "Good," she nodded with a shrug, "couldn't have gone any better." Seeing Viola's expression go from one of interest to shock Janessa changed the topic. She often forgot how easily the young mage was embarrassed. "I think I found the entrance to the tunnels. Everyone I've talked to believes it's in the northeast corner, in the old Peasant's View."

Peasant's View was one of the oldest and least desirable sections of Hope. Long before the walls were built, the city of Hope existed as a small section of the kingdom of Gilmore. The ruler of the land, Baron Vlas, had a large, fortified tower built in what became the center of the city, where he lived comfortably on the backs of his people. Always one to overestimate his own wealth, he entertained his visitors on the large balcony near the top of the tower. From there they could look down on the forty or so peasants working in the fields, hence it began to be called Peasant's View.

Loathing their lord, but helpless to do anything, the people continued to work under the supervision of the Baron's men. For nearly two decades they worked and suffered under his heavy hand, and some say his belt, until King Gilmore died in his sleep at a hundred years old. With the passing of the King, the region destabilized and the Lords of the various lands fought among themselves for the right to take the throne. Gilmore never took a wife, leaving the land without any heirs and causing chaos to erupt throughout the countryside.

During that time, when the Lords were at their most vulnerable, Baron Vlas' people rose against him. Led by a charismatic young leader named Beren Fleush, the peasants took the guard's weapons and attacked the tower. After a two week siege the doors of the tower were broken in and the tower was burned to the ground. Baron Vlas was captured and hung from a tree in the center of Peasant's View. Under the guidance of Beren Fleush, the people began working on the wall to protect them from the other Lords. During that time another nobleman seeking a peaceful end to the constant warring approached them. He had already quelled several parts of the former kingdom of Gilmore and offered them the opportunity to govern themselves, provided they flew his standard and came when he called. Long weeks of discussion ended with Fleush and the villagers agreeing to the terms given them by the nobleman.

Once more they had a Lord in Prince Duncan, but unlike his predecessor, he allowed them to grow and gave them protection with mild taxes. By the time the Reign of Duncan came to an end and another power struggle began, the city of Hope sat secure behind a wall with a large garrison and could sustain itself. It remained one of the few survivors from the Dark Times; how it had never been raised to the ground is still in question. Many believe the spirit of Baron Vlas remains in Peasant's View and that he does in death what he couldn't do in life. Protect what was his.

The story made its way through Viola's mind when Janessa mentioned the name. "Peasant's View? Are you sure?"

Janessa smiled, "That's what everyone says." She leaned in close, her smile changed to one of mischief. "You're not scared of ghosts are you?"

Viola flushed, but her embarrassment changed to one of anger, though it wasn't genuine. "No, not at all. Besides, it's only a story."

After watching her for a moment, Janessa didn't believe her. " Uh huh. Then why is it abandoned and always cold? What better place to hide the entrance?" Her logic seemed sound, perception was far more important than truth in most cases. People believed what they wanted to, plain and simple.

Viola's anger turned real, but only to a point. She hated being scared, and Janessa knew it. Serve her right if I turn her into a frog, Viola thought. The idea, however brief, did have some merit to it. "If it's there. Have you checked to make sure?"

That time Janessa's expression changed while she chewed her lip. "No, but that doesn't mean anything."

Viola smiled, she took a small victory in the exchange. "You'll be happy to know I've mastered a locator spell." She shrugged, "So when you're wrong, I'll find it."

"What do you mean 'when I'm wrong?' I have as much chance of being right as that spell of yours." Janessa glared at her.

Not wanting to get pulled into one of her friend's bets Viola shrugged, turning on her heel. "We'll see."

Janessa followed her towards the stairs, "We will. Now hurry up or we'll be late in meeting them."

Viola's smile broadened. She loved her friend dearly but oh, it would feel so good to prove her wrong.

Chapter 13

The night was clear and cool leaving Gilliam without a doubt they could see for miles by the moonlight were they in a wide open field. As it was, the companions agreed it'd be best to make their way through the forest. Using Berek's talent, that was how Gilliam chose to think of it, they traveled in a line stepping only where the fighter stepped. The going was slow and tedious but under the circumstances stealth was needed.

Despite the cool of the night Gilliam couldn't stop sweating. The traveling cloak he wore to hide his weapon from Renard's spies was a heavy one and not at all practical for stealth. But, as their new comrade pointed out, it was better than the moon's light striking his white robes. Galin claimed, "It'd send out a signal chime to anyone in the forest as bright as the sun." Seeing the logic and the danger, Gilliam continued wearing it. Now, if only there was a way to keep the Dwarf quiet.

Metal shod boots, short legs, and a build designed for working underground were not meant to go traipsing through a forest. What'd Galin look like? An Elf? At least he kept his cursing and muttering to himself, the rest couldn't be helped, although he was trying. Damn, Galin wouldn't have been surprised if Berek sent him off on some kind of diversion or found some other way of telling him to be quiet. After coming along on his own, Galin knew there was no one to blame but himself. Although trying to think of someone to blame did cross his mind.

His word was his bond, once a Dwarf said he'd do something then he'd walk into the Abyss before doing otherwise. Besides, Galin thought as his fingers flexed over the handle on his hammer, he probably sounded more like a large animal the Ogres would try to avoid, or eat depending on his luck. Always one to take a challenge head on, Galin now wondered why he agreed to act like some damn Elf ranger. With a huff he continued on, deciding to blame the Nursk Brothers. If they acted like any other stone-brained Ogres he'd be eating dinner by now.

As Galin trudged through the forest doing his best to keep quiet, Berek couldn't stop smiling. He was amazed they hadn't alerted every bandit, Ogre, or Goblin in the area by then. Not sure as to why, but moving through the dense brush was easy for him. A field mouse made more noise chewing on an acorn than he did. It was as though every branch and thorn so eagerly seeking a purchase on one of his comrades avoided him or slid over him like he was covered in grease.

Berek never felt stranger in his life as he did with each step, bringing them to a stop at spotting the Ogres near the bend in the road to Hope. The Nursk Brothers sat crouching behind a pair of spruce trees keeping their eyes on the road towards the company. Not a bad place for an ambush, just beyond the sight of Hope's lookouts but far enough from Renard's Company to look random.

Having heard the reputation of Hope's Sheriff Tavers, Berek doubted the man would send help even if it was in front of the gate. It wasn't out of cowardice, more like the feeling of protecting one's home. Few men, if any, would risk themselves to help a stranger if it meant leaving their home vulnerable. No, they were on their own and part of him liked it that way.

Sure of their plan, Berek motioned for the others to crouch low and remain out of sight. He suppressed a smile at Galin's look of gratitude as both he and Gilliam looked as though they'd had the longest walk of their lives. A curious thought considering he hadn't broken a sweat. Berek would be sure to thank Renard for his training when they got back. For the moment, he lowered his voice so it wouldn't carry. "They're across the road at the bend."

Gilliam nodded but Galin was confused, there was no wind in the forest and he doubted the Nursk Brothers would stand in the road after their efforts. "How do you know?"

Though the Dwarf's whisper was low it grated on the cleric's nerves. He was surprised they hadn't been ambushed already. Berek smiled, "I saw them."

Galin shook his head, "You must be part Elf, lad. Least you got the good parts."

Gilliam broke into the conversation before Berek or the Dwarf began laughing. "What's your plan?"

Berek shrugged, his eyes settling on the trees along the road's edge where the leaves moved in a gentle breeze. They were up wind from the Ogres, an obvious fact being the Nursk Brothers hadn't smelled them yet. Of course, being in the forest helped some as well. "We get as close as we can then charge them."

Gilliam's face went pale. "Charge them? They could shoot us down before we made it halfway."

Berek shook his head, "They don't have any bows." He nodded at Galin looking for his opinion.

The Dwarf nodded, "Aye, they have no bows but plenty of other weapons. Anything they throw will kill you just the same." Glancing at Gilliam he continued, "Best be on your toes lad, we may need you fast."

Gilliam glared at the Dwarf for questioning his courage, but as quick as it appeared it was gone and the cleric understood. Nodding, he focused on the healing spells he prepared. As much as he hated to admit, they worked faster than his preferred choice of prayer. "I'll be ready."

Galin looked at Berek, who in turn nodded at his uncle. Both he and the Dwarf had seen their share of battles, both in the pits and out, but for Gilliam it was only his second, as far as the young fighter knew. Certain he could depend on the cleric, he turned to Galin and motioned to the road. In a couple of seconds they rushed out of the brush and attacked.

*****

The Nursk Brothers were tired and bored.. It was against their essence to remain quiet for so long. More accustomed to breaking through doors and piercing the night with battle cries or raucous laughter, sitting in ambush was the worst form of torture to an Ogre. Because of their loyalty to their master Renard, Kruge resisted the urging of his Ogre blood and was less successful in controlling his brother. The swelling under Narsa's left eye giving testament to his brother's efforts.

The less intelligent of the two, Narsa was subject to losing his control on a regular basis. Brawling and drinking was what life meant to him. Never one to think things through, Narsa often leapt into a situation without any regard for the safety of himself or others. For that reason, Renard used him for only "special" duties when he wasn't guarding their master. The Ogre refused to take instruction from anyone except his brother Kruge once his blood became heated.

Kruge always tried to do his best in following Renard's instructions, though he did find it difficult at times. Like his brother, Kruge was always in the mood to fight, drink, or do both. But being smarter and having more self control made him Renard's favorite. His master educated him as best he could in the ways of the world, but by Renard's standard it wasn't very helpful. At first, Kruge and his brother took part in the pit fights as the main attraction. People were always willing to pay silver to see one of nature's rarest achievements as Ogre's rarely gave birth to twins.

The fights were fixed of course, it wouldn't be profitable to have the infamous Nursk Brothers killed. As they grew and the number of fighters increased they were retired from the fights but for a few specialized ones here and there. Once retired, they were trained by the best Renard could afford in the various weapon skills. While proficient with swords, knives, and such, the brothers preferred more brutal methods. Using their bare hands to rip off limbs and crush heads being among their favorites.

Despite all of their faults, Renard loved their mix of skill and brutality and made them his personal bodyguards with Kruge as the leader. Much like Fech, they wouldn't be able to count how many "special" tasks they were asked to perform. To them it was just another way to prove their loyalty to their master. But this one would be remembered. Neither of them ever liked Berek, they viewed him as a weak human deserving to be crushed.

For the longest time they were confused as to why their master took such pains with the human. Once they went so far as to think Renard was sickly for showing such bad judgment and they would've attacked and killed him had it not been for Fech. For years Renard held them in disdain for their actions, though they had been following their nature. Survival of the fittest. As Berek began turning on Renard, the brothers worked themselves back into his good graces and began viewing Berek with their typical hatred.

Knowing it was only a matter of time until Berek betrayed their now revered master, Kruge set up the fight where the human should've died. Instead, Berek bested the best Ogre in camp, next to them, and a Lizard man. The fact those two attacked each other instead of Berek wasn't the point. The human had killed one of their kind, though a distant cousin and a different branch of their race, and must pay the price.

Intent on finishing the human once and for all, Kruge managed to keep his brother in line while they waited, watching for Berek to come up the road to Hope. Hearing something bursting from the forest behind them followed by a battle cry neither of them ever heard before caught them by surprise. But as their nature dictated, they turned, leaping at their attackers with a sinister smile and battle cry of their own.

*****

The speed the Ogres moved to counter attack surprised Gilliam. He never imagined anything as large as Ogres could have such speed. To his credit, he didn't hesitate and healing spells came to his mind, ready to be used if needed while his fingers tightened around the handle of his mace. Calmly, he stepped out from the trees so he was unobstructed whether for magic or his own action.

While the speed the ogres moved with was impressive, neither Berek nor Galin were surprised and they met the Ogres head on. The foursome paired off with Berek facing Narsa and Galin with Kruge. "Nothing worse than a smart Ogre." Galin muttered, ducking a sword swipe then deflecting a thrust with his hammer.

Kruge smiled, "No horseshoes to fix here, Dwarf." The Ogre missed Galin with a punch while avoiding another thrust. Kruge realized he now hated Dwarves, they were too short for the seven feet tall Ogre to fight properly. He kept forcing Kruge to lunge, bringing himself off-balance. Somewhere in Kruge's brain, his training told him doing so was bad a moment before the Dwarf's hammer crushed his knee. Roaring in pain, Kruge fell to a knee but his rage forced the pain from the joint as he caught Galin's wrist in his hand. The hammer stopped inches from Kruge's yellow, blackish face.

With a snarl Kruge lifted the Dwarf up by his wrist until Galin's feet barely touched the ground due to the Ogre's size while kneeling. Kruge swung his sword at Galin with a blow meant to cut the Dwarf in half. As the blade was about to strike, a series of unintelligible words carried on the air and the sword flew from the Ogre's hand. Kruge paused, looking at his empty hand wondering where his sword went.

Gilliam let out a breath, the disarming spell worked. Feeling woozy from the power coursing through him, Gilliam shook his head to clear. The power filled him with a calm and peace, the fading sensation of which nearly made him ill.

Galin fought against Ogres for over half his life. A sworn enemy of the Dwarves, the Ogres raided the Dwarven homes in search of anything of value. As a result, he became somewhat of an expert on fighting them. Not known for their speed or agility, Dwarves could move faster than most races in a small area due to their size. A main reason neither kingdom never fell to a conqueror.

As soon as the two met on the road, Galin continued to press as close to Kruge as possible. While getting within reach of an Ogre isn't advisable, none fight as well as Dwarves in close proximity. With each of the Ogre's swings and thrusts Galin easily sidestepped, ducked, or deflected them as he moved closer.

Due to the height difference, Kruge had to reach, putting himself into unbalanced and awkward positions. Each attack by Kruge put Galin a step closer to his goal until he was able to deflect a final blow and, with all his strength, struck the weight bearing leg, shattering the knee. As Kruge howled and dropped to a knee Galin swung his hammer upwards towards the Ogre's chin. The blow would've broken the Ogre's neck or crushed the thick skull killing him instantly, but to Galin's horror, Kruge caught him by the wrist and lifted him off his feet.

Galin could see the pain and rage on Kruge's face as the sword gleamed in the moonlight. Too careless, Galin realized as the sword swung. In what he was sure would be his final thoughts, Galin couldn't help noticing the crude craftsmanship of the large sword. He hadn't heard the cleric, otherwise the sword flying out of the Ogre's hand wouldn't have surprised him. Galin found himself looking at the large empty hand sharing the same thoughts as Kruge. He shook off the surprise and grabbed his hammer with his left hand. Due to the strength of the Ogre's grip he had to pry the hammer from his own hand. He then turned the hammer over and swung at Kruge's unprotected head. The Ogre turned to see the blow just before it struck.

As the crunch of bone signaled the end of one of the Nursk Brothers, the fight between Narsa and Berek developed into a match between skill and speed against brute force and savagery. The two danced in the moonlight, knocking aside thrusts, sidestepping slashes, and countering death blows. The force of each strike sent shivers up Berek's arms as he deftly blocked and deflected them. The one certainty being that should one connect, Berek would be finished. Somehow, he managed to stay one step ahead of the Ogre, feigning backwards to get Narsa to overreach or sidestep to reach an exposed flank. The Ogre surprised him by maintaining some control over his blood lust and defending any advance by the human.

Their struggle situated Berek's back towards the fallen brother and Galin. The sounds of their battle rang loud in his ears, forcing him to block them out, warning or thinking about a fight besides his own was the quickest way to fail.

Narsa hadn't been as professional in his thinking for when he heard Kruge's agonized scream he looked away giving Berek the opening he'd been waiting for. Before the Ogre could react, Berek sliced upwards with his sword, its sharp edge cut a line through the leather armor from Narsa's right hip to his left shoulder.

While it was strange for Ogres to wear armor, Narsa's was double thick, protecting him from the cold steel. Surprised, Berek lunged to follow up his attack but the Ogre recovered and met his thrust. Narsa knocked the blade aside and caught Berek on the side of his head with his fist. The blow dazed the human, nearly rendering him unconscious.

With Berek on his knees, Narsa turned his sword over in his hands measuring the final blow. As he was about to strike, Kruge's death scream caught his attention. Furious, Narsa turned to charge his brother's killer.

Berek fought to regain his senses, all he could see were multiple blurry images before him. In desperation, he lunged with his sword at the nearest image from his knees. The Ogre's scream, filled more with rage than pain, echoed in his ear as the image turned back to him.

Gilliam watched in horror when the second Ogre felled his nephew and was relieved to see he was only dazed. He summoned his magic but when he tried to cast the disarming spell he was horrified to find it wouldn't work. He only prepared it for a single use and couldn't recall the words. Terrified at failing his nephew, he sprinted across the road as the nearest Ogre fell. Grabbing his mace from its sling, he struck at Narsa with all of his might. The blow meant to kill missed when the Ogre reared back in pain from Berek's desperate attack. His mace struck Narsa's right forearm, his sword arm, shattering the bone. In a rage, Narsa back handed him with his broken arm with enough force to send the cleric onto his back with a heavy thud, then turned back to Berek.

Cursing, Galin struggled to free his hand from Kruge's death grip. He tried his hammer but the only damage done was to break some of the Ogre's bones. Even smashed, they remained as tight as in life. Out of desperation after seeing his comrade go down, Galin grabbed one of Kruge's knives and threw it at Narsa's back trying to get his attention away from the woozy Berek. Knife throwing was never Galin's strong suit and he missed with all three knives he could find. Fuming, he thought about throwing his hammer, but decided against the action as he preferred having it instead of no weapons should the Ogre take him up on his taunts. "Where you going you slime covered Minotaur? Come on, I'm right over here!" As hard as he tried, the Ogre continued ignoring him. If he could reach it, he'd use the Ogre's blasted sword to get free. Intent on getting loose, he continued struggling with the dead hand.

The image stopped, standing over Berek for a moment saying something the human couldn't make out before a hand closed around his throat, lifting him from the ground. "You will suffer, Berek!" The words assaulted him as he struggled for air. The weight in his hand made him aware he still held his sword. A phrase, litasweapos, came to his mind unbidden. A red glow appeared just below his line of sight and he knew to thrust with his sword. A gurgled, surprised scream filled his ears as blood splattered on his face.

The powerful hand released him, allowing him to fall to the ground gasping for air. Off to his side he heard a chant of some sort before his vision cleared and the throbbing in his head disappeared. He looked up into Gilliam's bloody and bruised face smiling at him.

Gilliam shrugged, "We each use our gifts when needed." Berek returned the smile then glanced at the dead ogre. Narsa fell onto his side with Berek's sword buried to its hilt in the Ogre's chest. Such a death blow would have astounded many had it been the sole incident. But as fate regularly cast its shadow over one, it chose to do so once more. The part of the blade protruding out of Narsa's back was on fire.

Magic. Why'd he have to help someone with magic abilities? Dwarves were notorious for their mistrust of magic users, a trait popular the world over, but this was Galin's first time seeing one in battle. More surprising was that Berek didn't seem to know what he did judging by his look of astonishment, which increased once he pulled his sword free and the flame disappeared. Galin saw the whole thing and wondered about his luck. "My beard's in the forge fire now." It came out louder than Galin intended.

At the sound of his voice, the two humans turned towards him, relief spreading across Berek's face. "Galin! Are you hurt?"

The look on his friend's face when he saw Galin warmed the Dwarf's heart, his luck was solid gold. "I'm fine, but er... I could use a little help here." Raising his right hand, Galin showed them the bloody, pulpy mess that, at one time, was an Ogre's hand and arm. "Can't um... quite get loose." At the sight of Galin's depressed and embarrassed face both Gilliam and Berek burst into laughter. Galin let them go for a minute, even joining in himself. "Alright that's enough now. Blasted Ogres smell worse when they're dead, if that's possible."

Berek wiped tears from his eyes which only smeared yellow Ogre blood over his face. "Alright Galin, hold still."

Galin closed his eyes as the sword flashed. When he opened them he couldn't help but shiver as a cold chill went down his back. "Thank you lad, but there's still a problem."

Berek looked at him for a moment, "What's that?"

The Dwarf raised his arm; the severed hand still clung to him. "What to do about this?"

Berek tried to contain his laughter while Gilliam, doing the same, spoke. "War trophy?" Under normal circumstances, they both would've burst into laughter again at the absurd scene but the look on the Dwarf's face gave them reason to stifle their laughter. Instead of tormenting their companion further, they began prying the fingers loose, a task that was far easier said than done.

It took them the better part of ten minutes to get the Dwarf free. "Thanks lads, I wasn't looking forward to carrying that around with me for the duration." Glancing at them, both were now covered in yellow Ogre blood, he doubted he looked any better. "Now that we've broken any ties to Renard, how about telling me what this is all about?" The two humans glanced at each other then, by an unspoken agreement, they began relating their adventures since the previous night.

Their tale took only a few minutes for the two to share with their newfound ally. Throughout it, Galin let his gaze go from one to the other then back again. He paused for a moment, thinking through the possibilities of them finding what they were searching for. He knew how rumors such as those started, humans always imagined treasures of all sorts and sizes hidden behind some wall or in some underground maze designed to test one's abilities and drive them insane. Nothing but a chest full of fool's gold, as his father used to say. Those managing to stumble upon a treasure exaggerated their find until it was the largest ever found. Those that failed, or were lost to some unseen horrors slumbering in wait, became legends themselves throughout the years. After a few minutes he came to his decision, "Well lads, I believe you're following your hearts." Galin paused for a moment, "I've come this far, may as well see it through to its end."

Berek smiled, "You don't believe any of it, do you?" Gilliam cleared his throat, surprised the Dwarf shared his belief.

For his part Galin shrugged, "Some of the finest adventures come from the most unlikely of places." His tone changed to one of grumbling. "If it means following a pair of foolish humans, what's that say of me?"

Gilliam forced back a chuckle, while he didn't like being called foolish he felt the same and patted the Dwarf's shoulder, "A good friend."

Galin eyed the older human for a moment before letting out a sigh of resignation. "Is that what you call it then?" He turned his gaze back to Berek, "Lead on lad, I've had a good life, though I fear it'll be shortened by this endeavor." Without another word the three companions made their way to the meeting place that had been agreed to the previous night.

Chapter 14

"Are you sure about this?" Janessa watched her friend. "Won't this drain you?" While never understanding the reason behind fatigue striking mages after casting their spells, she did see Viola cast until she passed out from exhaustion once. Knowing the price the magic demanded, Janessa often wondered why anyone would practice such an act.

Their discussion centered on Viola's reasoning over the use of magic when she awakened a day after succumbing to exhaustion from overuse. Janessa had been irate, part of her wanted to reach out and violently shake the young mage to the point tears flowed at the fear of losing her friend.

With those memories fresh in her mind, Janessa pleaded with Viola. "Why do you want to use this... thing if it hurts you so?"

Viola tried to quell the Halfling's fears, but it was a battle neither one wanted to lose. "It doesn't hurt me. It drains me in retribution for the ability to cast the spells. The more I do it the more tolerance I build."

"Is it worth it? To be helpless and weak like that?" Janessa tried as best she could to understand but the trade off didn't seem fair.

"Yes it is." Viola didn't want to argue but it seemed to be the only way to educate Janessa on what it was like. After a moment she was sure she found a way. "Do you remember what you said it was like being with those men? How wonderful it felt for a brief moment that left you yearning for more in its absence?"

Janessa eyed her not liking where their argument was heading. "That's different."

"Is it?" Viola pressed her advantage. "Afterwards, you're exhausted and needing to rest but you accept that to feel the ecstasy of the moment. My art does that for me." Viola paused, throwing her legs out of bed with her eyes wide in excitement. She motioned to everything around them. "From the moment I begin to cast a spell, to the point of it leaving me is pure ecstasy." Her expression changed to one of longing, as if it'd been years since she'd seen her closest friend. "We'd do anything to get that feeling back."

Janessa stood and watched her friend throughout her narrative. The Halfling understood what she was trying to say, but she doubted magic could be as rewarding as sex. Only the look of longing on the young mage's face gave her reason to pause and question her own beliefs.

It was then, with her previous experience, that Janessa questioned her friend. Viola smiled, she knew Janessa was concerned, but she knew her own limits. "Don't fret Jenny. We have to make sure you're right on the location of the tunnel entrance." She raised her right hand and called the spell to mind, an easy feat considering how many times she scribed it at her master's command. Viola focused on what they wanted to find while preparing to recite the spell. Timing was important; if her concentration slipped in the slightest the spell would lead them astray at worst, and fail at best.

Janessa stood grim, hurt as if Viola had struck her. "I checked it out myself." She muttered to herself. "Don't you trust me?" Although she spoke under her breath and it usually took quite a bit to disturb Viola's concentration, Janessa proved to be up to the task that time.

The look of concentration left Viola's face and she turned to the Halfling. "What? Of course I trust you."

Janessa's face twisted in agitation, "Do you?"

"Damn it Jenny, if I didn't would I be here with you now? I just want to be certain that we're not making any mistakes."

"Really? Seems to me you want to experience your magic." The hurt and scorn in Janessa's voice was unmistakable.

Viola prepared to say something in rebuttal but stopped herself. Something inside urged her to cast the spell anyway, to spurn Janessa. She ignored that voice, though it was more difficult than she could've imagined. "I'm sorry, you're right." Viola lowered her hand, clenching it into a fist to stop her trembling. "We have to hurry; it's nearly time for us to meet Berek and his friend."

Janessa's face changed when she smiled, she won a battle she hadn't realized she'd been fighting. The two made their way to the wall where they felt safest performing the levitation spell. Somewhere deep inside Viola, a voice muttered "so close". She didn't recognize the voice, and that caused her to tremble all the more.

*****

No matter how many times she experienced the feeling of floating through the air, Janessa never grew tired of the experience. The feeling and sight of her feet leaving solid ground was one of the most amazing things one could witness in their lifetime. She assumed she'd get to experience it multiple times that evening, if she was lucky. As their feet touched down on the grass outside Hope's wall, Janessa glanced at her friend. Janessa's excitement during a spell like that was always countered by a guilty feeling at the toll it took on Viola.

The instant rush of fatigue swept through Viola at the moment the euphoric feel of the magic left her. As she explained on several occasions to Janessa, the sudden feeling of loss drove her to cast more spells, the more power she wielded, the more the euphoria grew. At least that was her perception of how it would work. While most mages wished only to become powerful and have their names passed through the centuries, Viola wanted to feel the warming glow of her magic, the prestige would be a natural offspring of her work with the legacy of her name. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand straight to let Janessa know it wasn't too much of a strain.

Janessa watched Viola for an anxious moment before nodding her understanding. Then, with that settled for the moment, she turned her attention to the trees and bushes standing thirty feet away. "We'd best get moving." Janessa hated being exposed after the events of the previous night. Through the force of her will, Janessa kept her voice steady. Of all the experiences of the world, she felt it'd be safer facing an army of Ogres rather than being surprised by another group of bandits. Irrational as the thought was, it made perfect and complete sense to her.

Sensing Janessa's urgency to leave the wide open killing field by the city's wall, Viola agreed though at least there they had a chance of the city's guard hearing them. She shook her head at the thought. After dark, Sherriff Tavers and his men didn't care what happened outside their walls so long as the city itself wasn't under attack. As flawed as Janessa's reasons seemed to the young mage, they were safer in the forest. Assuming they hadn't been seen yet and walked into another ambush. With little choice, the two made their way into the protective cover of the forest.

*****

Unseen against the night sky a winged figure circled until landing at the last bend in the road leading to Hope. Fech's red eyes glowed as he inspected the corpses of the Nursk Brothers. Such a shame, Fech mused, that I hadn't been able to witness their deaths first hand. While the three of them were under the employ and care of Renard, they had no love for one another. Mortal enemies, the Ogres and gargoyle races often clashed, even devouring each other after a conflict. Gargoyles did so because many believed them to be nothing more than brainless beasts. Ogres did it because they were brainless beasts. At least so far as Fech believed. Truth of the matter being, Gargoyles did so for sustenance, but also as the ultimate insult. What could possibly be worse for one's enemy than to know their fate was as excrement?

Fech eyed the two corpses, since he hadn't taken part in the battle he wouldn't lower himself to feed off of something he didn't kill. Besides, Ogre flesh had a strange slimy taste to it. He was impressed with the skill the two humans showed to best the Nursk Brothers. Fech liked to believe he would've held his own against both brothers, and even though he most likely would've lost, it would've been a fight the survivors would remember the rest of their lives.

His thoughts stopped short in his assessment when he spotted a third pair of footprints in the dirt. Though they were difficult to make out, they didn't belong to the Ogre's and were too small to belong to either Gilliam or Berek. The impression left told of a weight about that of an adult human. Fech sniffed the air before lowering his head to the footprints. The smell of the Ogres covered the other scents in the area, leaving his question unanswered. A shame, he was curious as to who helped them.

Knowing he would face Renard's anger for not knowing more as he was expected to, Fech stretched out his wings and leapt into the air. He would claim he arrived too late to aide the Ogres, such a pity, and then decided to search for the humans. A lie of course, despite what his master believed, Berek and his uncle weren't as great a threat as the mage turned merchant was.

Fech's wings caught the prevailing wind and lifted him high above the forest canopy so he could turn his attention to the city of Hope. Renard wasn't concerned about Mern since he was no longer of use, but Fech knew better. Until he could prove his feeling about the mage was correct, he planned on not informing his master about it. It pained him to lie to one that treated him with so much generosity, but in the end he knew he'd be rewarded.

*****

The three companions crouched at the edge of a clearing to meet the Halfling and mage. Galin, as Dwarves are known to do, grumbled while he wiped his sore, blood covered arm on the grass. "We should've washed this off before coming here. Skulking about smelling like ogres will keep your friends away."

Gilliam and Berek exchanged glances and then smiled. They knew they smelled bad, they hoped to see the two women before they ran off from the stench. Though Gilliam couldn't shake the feeling his nephew was in danger due to his abilities, he did force himself to make peace with it and even learned to depend on Berek's night vision. Any fear he had after seeing Berek's sword burst into flames vanished when he realized how close he came to losing the one person that may have understood him. They even found a common ground over the grumbling of the Dwarf. While he never knew any Dwarves before, Gilliam accepted the stories about them as fact. As with much he learned over the previous day, those "facts" had been nothing more than irresponsible tales to scare children.

As funny as it sounded, Gilliam was pleased to have his world turned upside down by his nephew. His faith was stolen by his nephew only to be strengthened by the courage of the young man and the honor shown by the Dwarf. Gilliam dared anyone to speak ill of the Dwarven race to him after what Galin displayed out of friendship and with nothing to gain. His main concern now was how much power did his nephew possess? Unlike other magic users he heard of, Berek needed no spell books or other components to work his magic. The magic seemed to come to him from some other source. Instead of being the instrument the magic was channeled through, Berek became the source of the magic. Thoughts about what could happen if Berek ever lost control and let the magic rule him coursed through the cleric's mind. Over the years Gilliam heard stories about what happened to magic users that lost control, their end wasn't pleasant in the slightest.

Gilliam's thoughts were interrupted by a rustle in the bushes thirty feet to their left. He reached out, touching Galin's arm to silence him and glanced at Berek. Whether the young fighter heard or seen something with his night vision Gilliam wasn't sure, but the smile on his nephew's face was genuine. "They're here."

*****

Viola snatched her arm from a branch that decided to take hold of her robe. The resulting rustle of the branches caused Janessa to turn and give her a look of warning causing the young mage to shrug to say sorry. Viola shook her head when Janessa turned away and continued through the forest. It'd been a rough go of it through the forest for her. Viola's brown robes managed to get snagged on nearly every branch, tripped over vines, brush, and the occasional log nature had to offer. She never experienced that much trouble walking through woods before then. Viola was usually as quiet as an Elf, as the saying went. She convinced herself that the woods were conspiring against her. Just as she decided on that she stepped on the side of a root and fell into a bush.

Frustrated and angry, Janessa turned around glaring at her. The Halfling fought to keep her voice at a whisper. "You sound like a drunken Goblin! Are you trying to draw attention to us?"

Viola looked up at her friend with a glare of her own hissing back, "It's not my fault, someone's magiked the forest." She paused as a disgusting smell came to her. From the look on Janessa's face she smelled it too. "What is that?" Three figures stepped out from their hiding place in answer to Viola's whispered question.

"Ogres. We ran into a couple of them." Berek stepped forward first, his night vision was gone as he didn't need it with the break in the canopy above them.

"Ogres?" Janessa's voice rose both in alarm and out of curiosity.

Viola's tone was more controlled, "Are there any more?" She glanced around at the forest half expecting something to leap out at any moment. Like most children, she was told all sorts of stories about them, and like most, she would be happy to never meet one in person.

"We're not that unlucky, lass, there were only two." Galin shook his head, "Damn things smell bad enough when they're living."

Janessa stared at Galin for a moment until she recognized him. "You sold me my dagger."

Galin smiled, "Galin Stonehammer, at your service, lass."

Janessa watched the three of them in momentary confusion until realizing Galin would want part of the treasure... if they found it. So be it, Janessa thought, he was kind and generous to me. It can't hurt to repay my gratitude. She was puzzled though, "How'd you get in on this?"

Galin smiled and glanced at Berek, "Let's just say, it was a charitable contribution."

Gilliam answered their shared questions before they were asked. "We had a disagreement with our former employer."

Janessa nodded, "I see." But she wasn't sure she did. The sight of the three of them covered in yellow muck, she guessed it was the Ogre's blood, unnerved her. She recovered, reasoning that if they'd wanted to kill them they could've. Janessa was well aware that Viola and she would only stand a chance against one of them, but not all three. The sense of trust she had since they first met was renewed.

Viola understood their meaning, at least she thought she did. It was as if she were two people, twins so to speak, one being ethereal, guiding her with answers to questions she hadn't known yet.

With her confidence restored, Janessa smiled at the three companions. "I guess we're ready. I found the entrance to the tunnels. It's in Peasant's View."

"Peasant's View?" Gilliam thought it was a strange name for a village or town. "I don't remember any other villages around here."

Galin shook his head in astonishment. "First Ogres, then a fool's errand, and now a haunted town."

Berek raised his eyebrows, "You've heard of it then?"

Galin looked at him with an irritated eye, "Aye lad. Mostly stories, if you believe such nonsense."

"Oh it's true, but I haven't seen any ghosts though." Janessa smiled. She neglected mentioning she heard strange sounds coming from there from time to time.

Viola remained silent, she was never one to believe such stories, but all the same her craft dealt with powers that were hard to believe.

Galin glanced at Gilliam, "If it's true, I'm glad to have you with us, lad."

Gilliam smiled at the Dwarf. Yes, it was true, he was sure of it. During his travels he came across a specter or two but never anything dangerous. "It's been my experience that they can't do us harm. Their weapon is fear, conquer that and you conquer them."

Viola smiled, though not sure why. She was glad to have a mystic with them to help bolster them against any spirits.

Berek shook his head with a chuckle, "Ghost stories never bothered me. When do we get started?"

In answer, Viola pulled a scroll out of a hidden pocket within her robes. "I had hoped to use this. So long as we all keep our minds focused on where we're going it'll transport us there."

Janessa looked at her a little hurt, "No levitation?"

Viola smiled; at times her friend could sound like the child she closely resembled. "I don't like the idea of going back through this forest again." She didn't have to say why, the Halfling understood.

So did another member of their group. Gilliam noticed the smile Berek hid as soon as it appeared. The cleric leaned close to Berek and whispered low enough so no one else could hear him. "Your doing?"

Berek gave a subtle nod and Gilliam stood straight again. He understood why, smelling like Ogres would've scared off anyone unless they were preoccupied. He guessed Berek magiked the forest to torment any magic user since they knew of the mage. Poor girl, Gilliam thought, she didn't have a clue as to why she'd been tormented so.

"Everyone come close, we have to be within arms reach of one another for this to work." Viola opened the scroll and read the phrase several times under her breath to make sure she had it correct. Once she felt the magic swell in her and the euphoria began she closed the scroll. "Concentrate on Peasant's View." She paused a moment to ensure they all obeyed before beginning to recite the spell. When the spell began she heard the Dwarf say something about two magic users in a party being bad luck. Viola remained focused on their destination and felt them being pulled like a string through a funnel while wondering who else the Dwarf had been referring to. Across from her the words of the spell were absorbed into Berek's mind, in reality into his entire being. He knew another way to cast the spell, though he was curious as to how it was so apparent to him.

*****

As the group of five disappeared to begin their journey, a lone elderly figure sat in his room holding a dragon orb. He knew who caused his apprentice to struggle in the forest as well as the young man's ability that was mostly hidden, even from himself. Mern smiled; here was the one that could be used to further his own agenda. The young man was dangerous, but not to him. No, the aging wizard had no need to fear him, at least not yet. All of those thoughts and revelations Mern kept hidden from his master even as he used the dragon orb to renew his strength. His master watched his every move, read his thoughts except those that remained hidden. Everything was working better than he could've hoped; soon his patience would be rewarded.

Chapter 15

Thick, imposing darkness greeted the companions as the pocket of magic melted from around them. Each fought the uneasy feeling the spell caused, a nausea similar to seasickness but not as violent. It struck Viola the hardest since she was the source of the spell. She doubled over as her insides fought to escape her. Janessa grabbed her by the arm and tried to steady her. As quick as the feeling struck Viola it was gone.

"I'm fine." Was all Viola could manage to say to her friend. Janessa let her go, her own eyes were filled with worry. Viola straightened , smoothing her robes where she held onto them a moment earlier. After a minute, and a few breaths, she broke the uneasy silence. "I think... there were too many of us. Or..." A shiver ran through her body keeping her from finishing her thought.

Worried, Janessa cast a glance to Gilliam but the cleric shook his head in answer to her silent question. While he could do nothing for her symptoms, which had already passed, he did step forward until his face was inches from hers. His dark, penetrating eyes locked onto Viola's attempting to find an answer to his own questions. Satisfied, though not relieved, he turned to the others. "She's fine, just a little shaken."

"Can't blame the lass there." Galin's eyes swept across his line of sight searching for something. "We're not alone."

All of them felt it. The feeling of a thousand eyes locked onto them sent shivers through each of the companions. Only Gilliam seemed immune to it. Something Viola found herself to be envious of at the moment, although she doubted that was the reason for her uncontrolled shiver a moment earlier. Towards the end of the spell she allowed herself to become distracted. Her lack of focus was what made the transportation spell so difficult on them, on her. She could've killed them all then and there. They were lucky and she understood that better than the rest. She needed to be certain to concentrate harder the next time, the spells on the scrolls Mern gave her were more advanced than she was used to. The next time she used one... it could kill them all. Her difficult lesson learned, she did her best to ignore the feeling of the spirits.

Without being heeded, Gilliam stepped forward into the darkness straight and proud. "Have no fear; we're not here to hurt you." The feeling surrounding them seemed to lesson but not enough for the companions to stop looking for the one creature they were sure was sneaking up behind them. Gilliam held out his arms to his sides, his robes gave him the appearance of a moth or colorless butterfly. "We seek only safe passage to the tunnels beneath Hope's walls."

"I don't like this. Give me something I can fight, but ghosts?" Galin's words sounded hoarse as he whispered them to no one in particular.

Janessa's head turned like it was on a swivel. "It was never like this before, never this bad."

Berek's hand rested on the hilt of his sword while he scanned their surroundings with his night vision. At last, he was certain they were being watched by spirits. He didn't doubt his uncle, he simply didn't believe in such things until that moment. "They're feeding on our fear." Not sure where the realization came from, Berek knew it was the right answer.

"I don't mind telling you that I'm not a good dinner guest." So out of place was Viola's comment that the others burst into laughter, though it was short lived.

Gilliam heard every word spoken but he ignored them while praying to Fallor to ease the restlessness of the dead around them. So intent on his prayers, he didn't seem to notice the young mage's comment, something she noted with an oath to be like that from that moment forward. For long tense minutes, Gilliam prayed but the restless souls refused to leave. Then, when he wasn't expecting it, he felt his prayers answered and his hand being drawn to his mace.

In a singular motion, he lifted the mace above his head and a brilliant white light burst from it. While not harmful to the shadows, the light did force the spirits back as well as cover all those it touched with a protective barrier against the fear the spirits caused. The companions gathered behind him before he could utter a word for them to do so.

Gilliam looked over his shoulder, "You know where the entrance is?"

It took Janessa a moment to realize he was asking her. Lost in the brilliance and wonder at what the cleric had done she nodded. "Yes, behind that building over there." She pointed to what looked to be a dilapidated warehouse.

Gilliam nodded, "Stay within the light." He didn't need to say anything else; the companions understood and obeyed without hesitation. Without a sound, they made their way towards the warehouse as one. Berek walked the rear guard position, even though nothing was there to threaten them, and kept his eyes scanning through the darkness. Much as his uncle had been surprised by his own abilities, Berek was likewise by his uncle's. He never would've dreamed Gilliam could summon such a thing. Though Berek would've been disappointed to hear it, Gilliam didn't believe it possible himself. In this, Gilliam knew he was merely a vessel for the power to flow through.

Though the pace set by the cleric was steady, it seemed to take forever and a day to reach the entrance to the tunnels. Each of their steps brought them closer but the weight of the fear caused by the spirits made the distance seem so enormous. As if the spirits hoped Gilliam's power would fade and they'd feast once more on the companion's fear, they continued assaulting the barrier of light with each step the companions took.

Though it was difficult to instill fear in a Halfling, life is one big adventure to them, it can be done. The feat proved easy during an adventure when the rest of their party were already on edge. "Is the light hurting them?" Janessa couldn't help but ask. Even though they were spirits she felt for them.

The other companions hadn't shown the slightest concern for the ghosts of Peasant's View except for Gilliam. As a cleric of Fallor, it was his duty to heal the living and combat the unholy undead. The dead, however, were subjects of both reverence and sympathy. Some chose to revere them for not wanting to leave their loved ones without a guardian while others held them in sympathy for not letting go and continuing the journey to their next life.

Gilliam found himself in the middle of the two opinions. He preferred to revere the dead for their lives, be they successful or not, and he held those unable, or unwilling, to rest with deep sympathy. As a cleric of Light he would never do, nor wish harm, on the spirits forever seeking peace. Thus he was surprised by the Halfling's question. Most others feared the dead, viewing any and all spirits as evil and demonic. Janessa's concern touched him; perhaps there was a hope for the little thieves after all.

"No, it doesn't hurt them. It's what they're seeking but are afraid of at the same time." Gilliam's response both answered and intrigued the Halfling but before she could ask more he froze in place causing her to walk into his back.

"Bellow's Fire!" Galin exclaimed, "Have you put us in danger Mystic?" The others halted as the Dwarf's words burned into their minds, they understood at once what power Gilliam held blazing from his mace.

Gilliam paused to look at Galin and the others, then back to the brilliant light emanating from his mace. None of them realized until then that the light should've blinded them all and been a beacon for the entire city in the darkness with the clouds concealing the full moon above them. Instead, it cast no light on their surroundings. Even they were dark shapes under the protective influence cast about them. It was warm and inviting, but none of them felt drawn or called to it. The light was the comforting arm of a mother around her child, the love of a couple embracing, but it wasn't for them.

Gilliam looked back at them with a sad smile. "Galin, we are in no danger as we are alive. The spirits here are enthralled with it, unable to decide on what to do." He shrugged, "They have given up their hold to this world, but wish to remain. There is no danger in peace."

Everyone remained silent for a moment as his words taught them all in some way. Most felt as though they had attended a funeral except it wasn't a depressed sadness but a warm, comfortable sadness as one experiences after the death of a loved one and looks back on their lives with fondness rather than regret.

Both Viola and Janessa stood side by side, one comforting the other until Viola spoke, "We'd best get moving."

Janessa nodded her agreement as did Galin, "Aye lass, it won't remain dark for long."

Berek rested a hand on Gilliam's shoulder. "Uncle?"

Gilliam nodded with a sad smile, he didn't know where his words had come from. Whether the words were his or not didn't matter, for now he wondered at what was given to him that night. Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he turned back towards the broken down warehouse with their destination behind it. From that moment on, each step seemed to move them forward at a running pace even though the pace Gilliam set was the same as a few minutes before. Strange how quickly one's perception can alter things, he thought as they turned past the far side of the deserted warehouse. There he stopped at two large wooden doors reinforced with steel sitting in front of him on the ground, their locks glowed in the darkness.

Before anyone could say anything good or bad, Janessa stepped forward rubbing her palms together. "This won't take no more than a minute." Kneeling on the ground, she studied the lock for a few seconds and mumbled something about dual tumblers and then searched through her pocket for her tools.

Gilliam, Berek, and Galin all exchanged looks of knowing. Berek smiled and shrugged, "We each must use our gifts when necessary."

Galin stroked his beard, "True enough, just glad I never left my lock box unattended."

Viola saw the looks the three exchanged and she felt her face flush. They were understanding, at least she assumed the cleric was. Mystics of the light tended to look down on people like her and Janessa, but then he had thrown in with them hadn't he? She couldn't help but feel them judging her and Janessa.

"We have to eat somehow." Viola meant to sound off hand; like she was one of them, instead it came out sounding defiant. She noticed Janessa tense somewhat, either her curiosity was aroused or she was prepared to come to Viola's defense if need be as the mage had come to hers. Viola chose to believe the latter, but to her surprise Gilliam responded to her first.

Gilliam's face looked haggard, like he bore some great weight that could never be understood. Viola felt ashamed for her previous tone after seeing the pain and age in the cleric's blue eyes. "We pass no judgments, as we are far from angelic ourselves. Please don't misunderstand what we say or do."

Viola nodded and her apology was accepted without hesitation. Janessa heard it all as she worked to open the lock. She didn't cry or take any of it as an insult; in fact she took the whole event as a compliment. It seemed at last they found friends that didn't judge them without the benefit of the facts. As a Halfling it was something that was seldom, if ever experienced.

Halflings, the scourge of the land, the kings of thieves, were a couple of phrases often used by the other races throughout the world of Pyrain. From the day they came into being, Halflings have been as unique as any other race. They were created by the Goddess Arabeil to personify her mischievous nature towards her siblings' creations. She copied her oldest sister Helus' race of Elves and their features, but decided to mock the Elves' statuesque beauty by making them half the size of their cousins, hence the name Halfling.

Next, Arabeil gave them the urge to travel in opposition to her twin brother Crax's Dwarven race. No Halfling would ever be at home in a confined environment like the Dwarves. As a final point, she looked to the oldest of her siblings for her greatest challenge. Rowan created the humans to embody nobility, grace, and the will to enjoy one's existence. To balance those qualities, he granted them shorter life spans than the rest of the Pyrainian races, meant as an example to the other races as well as his siblings that everything must come to an end. Excited about the prospect of her creation, Arabeil placed her brother's mantra "Living life to the fullest" as the main driving force for the Halflings.

Arabeil chose to omit the traits of her remaining siblings' creations from her own. Narsa enjoyed anarchy and hated anything beautiful hence her creations such as Ogres, Goblins, Hobgobins, etc were hideous. After being shunned, Narsa felt insulted hence her creations sought to destroy those of all her siblings.

Not to be outdone, Draco did the opposite of Arabeil and created the dragons that embodied everything the rest held in high standards, alas they included the darkness of Narsa's creations. But it was worth it to maintain balance, which he claimed was essential. Thus Arabeil didn't mimic anything from him stating his creations were perfect and couldn't be duplicated. Already smug and arrogant, such praise created incredible tension between Draco and his other siblings. Because of that, Arabeil couldn't be blamed by their father for causing trouble.

On the day the first of the Halflings took their first breath, the rest of Pyrain didn't know what was unleashed on their world. Since then the Halflings became some of the most prevalent thieves the world had ever known. A lock couldn't be made they couldn't pick, not a pocket or change purse was safe from the master pickpockets, and due to their size, quick feet, and quicker wits they proved to be difficult for the larger races to catch and throw in prison. Compared to rabbits more than anything else, a Halfling caused most people to break out in cold sweat and dread the day they met one of the cursed creatures.

Such is the reputation that will follow the last Halfling to their deathbed. Though examples are plentiful, few believe the stories of noble Halflings existing as they're overshadowed by the negative rumors most hold dear.

It's the last category Janessa believed herself to be in, if she was ever asked the question. Like most Halflings, she wasn't evil or conniving like her people were made to sound. The other races have more inherited darkness in their hearts than the worst of the Halflings. Those were some of the thoughts flowing through Janessa's mind while she worked on the lock to the entranceway of the tunnels. She didn't take offense at what had been said, she was pleased and happy she was able to surround herself with such a collection, even though it was by accident.

With a click the lock opened. Beaming with pride, Janessa stood to open the door and wondered if her new friends would like to go to her home, the home of all Halflings, Journlest. The Halfling word for journey. Hopeful they would, she pulled on the metal rung meant as a handle but it didn't budge.

Certain she hadn't pulled hard enough, Janessa was about to try again when Galin took hold to help her. She couldn't help but smile at him. Galin flushed, "No offense lass, but it is large and undoubtedly heavy."

"None taken. I'm big enough to know when I'm overmatched." She noticed Berek crouch next to them and search for a handhold along the side. "I'll be offended if the three of us fail to budge it."

Berek smiled, "We could use a couple of Ogres. I hear they have a good grip."

Gilliam chuckled while both Viola and Janessa looked at the humans for any hint of what they meant. The only hint they had was the look on Galin's now bright red face, which Viola couldn't see. "Now's not the time lads. Ready? One... Two... Three!" The three pulled at the door with everything they had, but it didn't budge. Their exasperation was voiced by Galin as he threw curses at it that would make a sailor blush.

Panting, the three of them sat in the dirt attempting to catch their breaths. Gilliam went to each one, whispering a blessing on their sore, and in Berek's case bleeding, hands. Once he finished he looked at Berek. "Is it locked from the inside?"

Berek shook his head, "There's no evidence of a lock besides the one she opened." He motioned to the latch that had been over the lock. Once it was unlocked, it flipped open leaving no other devices. "No lock could seal a door like that, nothing made by man that is."

Gilliam looked at Galin then at the others; he was out of ideas, "Then what?"

"It must be a magical lock." Viola answered as she moved over to help Janessa in case she was needed.

Berek was the first to nod as Galin spoke. "Never seen so much sorcery in my life until today."

Gilliam looked to Viola, "Can you open it?" He knew a magical seal was a simple spell, but aside from some parlor tricks and the near disaster with the scroll he was anxious as to the limits of Viola's abilities. Though he wasn't sure Berek could break the spell, Gilliam trusted him over a mage in training. Besides, it was important they knew her limits before finding themselves in a situation she couldn't handle.

Seeming to know what the cleric was thinking Viola smiled, not her usual carefree smile but one full of arrogance. He thinks I can't do it! I'll show him! She thought as the spell was already on her lips. A second later the large door covering the opening swung open and a rush of stale smelling air rushed out to them.

Viola smiled at Gilliam, "Satisfied?"

Gilliam nodded, "Yes but why magic it like that?"

"To keep intruders from entering the city unawares would be my guess," Galin offered breathing in the musty air with deep breaths. It smelled just like home.

"Or to keep something out." Berek's eyes were locked on the darkness of the tunnel. The look in his eyes sent shivers up everyone's back, except for Galin.

"I just said that Berek. Your mind's someplace else." Galin snorted his response. All their talk of magic grated the Dwarf's nerves. Like all of his kind, he distrusted magic in any form.

"That's not what he meant." Viola rubbed her arms against the sudden chill sweeping through her.

"The spell sealed the door from the inside. Something doesn't want us to go in there." Berek's tone was matter-of-fact.

Gilliam looked at his nephew in complete surprise. How would he know? "You sense something?"

Berek shook his head. "Nothing I can place." He looked at Viola, "You?"

Viola shook her head; Janessa's hand grasped hers and gave a squeeze. They were scaring themselves over nothing, Viola was sure of it, but she couldn't bring herself to speak.

Berek took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "No way to tell by standing around out here." In two strides he was partway down the stairs leading into the dark tunnel. He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

Gilliam's eyes searched his nephew's for answers. After a moment he nodded, "We'll go in together. Galin bring up the rear, Viola stay behind me in case we find something."

Galin shook his head readying his hammer. "This night is getting stranger by the minute."

Berek smiled at him, "Who wants to live forever?" A second later he and Gilliam disappeared into the darkness with Viola and Janessa close behind them.

Grumbling, Galin followed. "I wouldn't mind trying to."

In Halfling fashion, Janessa turned and smiled at the grumbling dwarf. "We won't leave you behind."

Galin's face hardened, which caused Janessa to chuckle. "Only I'd get stuck with a group of court jesters." More grumbling threatened to come out but Galin clamped his mouth shut. He lived long enough to know there were plenty of dangers underground and none of them needed a warning by a grumpy Dwarf.

The darkness of the tunnel enveloped them as they moved deeper inside it, much as a scared child would pull a blanket over his head to hide from some imagined evil. The companions traveled a few yards before stopping. Using his night vision, Berek could see torches along the walls held in sconces. Satisfied, he took a few from their perches and handed them to each of the companions.

Knowing Berek's plan, Viola spoke a word of magic and the torches burned for the first time in years. While the light was warm and welcoming, Janessa had a sudden fearful thought. "If something doesn't want us down here, won't the torches give us away?"

No one spoke for a moment until Viola shrugged, "Whatever it is already knows we're here."

Janessa's hands tightened on her torch, "How? We've hardly made a sound?"

"Once the wizard lock was broken the one that cast the spell would know." Viola moistened her lips with her tongue. "If they're still alive."

The words seemed to settle Janessa's nerves. Of course whoever cast the spell was dead. No one had been down there in at least a century. Satisfied she smiled, she didn't mind running into someone that was dead since they couldn't do any harm. She didn't like the queer feeling fear gave her.

Berek and Gilliam exchanged a look, they were both wondering what was waiting for them when Galin spoke. "Not to worry lass, plenty of creatures to be fought down here that can be killed."

With their concerns addressed, the companions continued their journey into the depths of the city's history. It was strange, as Janessa noted later, that none of them noticed Berek hadn't taken a torch even though he was in the lead. Unknown to her, one did notice, and despite their newfound relationship, Gilliam's concern began to grow. Berek seemed to have lost himself, as if he was being drawn to something only he understood. The cleric came to believe his nephew's soul wasn't in danger to the source of his powers. Instead, he was certain Berek's soul was in danger because of his powers. Mindful of the slight change, he was determined to keep watch on the young fighter.

Chapter 16

Without the stars to aide them, time lost all meaning for the companions. The one certainty was the tunnel, for the duration of their walk it remained level and straight, leading them at least a mile away from the city. At one point, they passed a stone arch cutting through the foundation of the city wall. The path remained clear of obstructions through the years, giving credibility to its intended use for emergency evacuation. Thus their surprise when the tunnel turned to their left and opened into a small rounded room littered with digging tools. Picks, shovels, buckets, and such were scattered around, including a few barrels of water and crates of food. Across from them were two tunnels, one appeared to lead up towards the surface, the entrance Berek and Gilliam had been searching for, the other looked to lead further underground.

Without a wasted moment Galin stepped forward to eye the work. He made no secret of his opinion that the tunnel was built by humans. Dwarves were never as sloppy in their work as to leave tools lying around to be found. It took the briefest of moments for Galin's skilled eye to notice the differences. When complete he motioned to the rest to see, "Look here, this isn't smooth like the other entrance."

"So?" Berek looked from the dwarf to the chipped stone lining the passageway. "They were in a hurry."

Galin smiled, "No lad, this is recent. Those tools haven't been down here very long. A couple of months at most. Notice how the handles are new? The ground's full of vermin that'd bore in and eat the wooden handles."

"Someone's been digging here." Berek breathed, he wondered who it could've been and didn't like the options that came to mind.

The rest of the companions looked around, their anxiety building while thinking about when those would strangers be back. Each of them had their own thoughts on the proper course, but none wished to speak for fear they'd display their own weaknesses, greed, or fears to their companions. They each felt it queer that they came together with little to no knowledge about one another but they still couldn't be completely truthful within their group. As the oldest and, as the rest believed, the wisest of the group, Galin glanced at each of them. "It seems to be a simple choice, left to the surface and right into darkness."

Viola's brow furrowed for a moment in thought, "It is easy." She paused for a moment before she continued. "It's playing on our fears." The young mage became aware everyone was staring at her as if she had grown a beard and danced like a Hobgoblin. Ordering her thoughts, Viola continued. "Don't you feel it? As soon as we entered this chamber it was like a shroud over our eyes, but instead of clouding our sight it did so to our judgment."

They listened, ready to dismiss her theory as lacking logic and reason but instead turned their thoughts onto themselves. A few seconds passed until Janessa broke the uneasy silence. "Whatever did this expects us to listen to our fear." The realization brought immense pride to the Halfling as she was the first to accept what they all realized. For her companions, all it did was solidify her friend's reasoning. Without giving anyone time to think over and question what fear they had, she looked at Berek. "Which do you choose?"

For the first time since he met the Halfling, Berek wanted to backhand her for giving everyone a reason to watch him, as if he had become their fearless, or fearful, leader. He sensed the mage was correct, though he had no idea how. If asked he would've stated "It just felt right". He glanced over his left shoulder at the two choices. He knew which one he feared and therefore which one he was to enter. After taking a deep breath he opened his mouth to answer but his uncle interrupted him.

"Are you certain it's magical? Surely you have a detect magic spell handy?" Gilliam's tone was even but with a trace a fear in it.

Viola nodded, she had several spells prepared for the various artifacts they would find if Janessa and Berek were right. "I do, but keep in mind whoever magiked this corridor did so with the ability to hide it. The spell would, most likely, fail."

"And if it's not an illusion then we'd be separated." Gilliam lowered his gaze to the floor of the chamber. He didn't like their situation in the least.

Galin crossed his arms deep in thought. "We'd be separated no matter our choice. If the young lady is right, I doubt we'd all agree on the choice."

"Not necessarily." Berek's voice caused each of them to look to him. The feeling it brought out in him wasn't pleasant or welcomed. "We could be brought together after we pass through." He looked to Viola, she was the expert on this matter.

In answer Viola nodded, "But nothing is for certain, we may never see one another again." Her words resonated off the walls around them, the echo making them feel small as if they were in a ravine with no escape. She cleared her throat, "The only sure choice is to go back."

Berek's eyes flashed for a moment at the thought of running away. While the rest contemplated doing just that, he glared at the two tunnels that caused this rift. He could go back and kill Renard, which would be easy enough. He may even survive the ensuing battle with Fech. Anything was possible, one could alter their destiny. He made his decision; he was never one to run away from anything. Even if he continued on alone it would be his choice to make. He was surprised to see Janessa watching him as if she knew what he was thinking but wanted to hear him say it.

Janessa's question came as no surprise to him, "What are you going to do?"

Their gaze locked for a moment, they were all here because of him in one manner or another. Without flinching he answered, "To the dark." Although gasps escaped the companions it wasn't unexpected as each were struggling with their own decisions. Only Gilliam showed outward concern in the form of a gentle hand touching Berek's arm. The cleric's eyes were asking if Berek was sure that's what he wanted. When Berek nodded Gilliam smiled, he wouldn't leave his nephew no matter the circumstances.

Viola watched the two men, wondering if the bond between her and Janessa was as strong. She didn't want her friend to choose because of her, to do so would put them both in danger. Viola's emotions tried to push their way into her thoughts, but she slammed the door shut on them. She had to think, this was a test, nothing more. There was nothing to fear, she was sure of that. Truth was, Viola didn't want to be there, she hadn't a desire for such things as quests. All she wanted was to study her magic and cultivate her power.

This will do just that. A familiar voice whispered to her from the depths of her mind. It comforted her rather than scared her, offering courage and guidance she didn't feel or have at the moment. Viola made her decision, it twisted her insides but she forced herself to relax. Everything would be fine, so long as they trusted their feelings.

Settled on her choice, Viola looked at Janessa. The Halfling smiled at her, Janessa seemed to have the decision made before asking Berek his choice.

Galin was the last to decide. He weighed the difficult, but safe climb to the surface against the terrors the darkened tunnel held hidden within its shadows. The young mage and Berek talked of fear, saying this was a test on each of their fears but he wondered if they came to the right decision. Perhaps by allowing their fears to dictate their actions, they were playing into whoever cast the spell's hand. No, the Dwarf shook his head to clear out the doubt, he had to trust them. Out of necessity, he'd trust the girl, though he was certain she had no experience outside of a text book. Berek, he trusted due to the years they knew each other. While young, the fighter had an old soul, as the humans liked to say. Besides, the fact that he could meld magic and steel was something Galin would side with if given a chance despite his fears.

Their decisions made, the companions stood watching each other for a few moments. Of course, Berek was the one to break the silence. "I appreciate what all of you are willing to risk, but this is no ordinary quest. The rules seemed to have changed enough to make this dangerous." He paused a moment as he finished organizing his thoughts. "If any of you want to turn back it is with honor, not cowardice."

A bit late was the thought most would have in that moment but not a single companion had it enter their mind. Instead, they were grateful Berek thought so much of them but they'd come that far and the treasure was on the other side of the illusion. They were close to the end, the danger seemed distant. Thanking him, Viola and Janessa entered the tunnel leading to the surface. Galin was following them but he stopped short of the threshold, turning towards the two humans.

Galin moistened his lips and stroked his red beard. "How accurate was she?"

Berek smiled, but his eyes remained thoughtful. "Very, from what I can tell. But it's still dangerous."

Galin nodded, he thought so. "Take care of yourself, lad. I'd hate to be waiting too long." Smiling, the Dwarf began singing an ancient Dwarven marching song as he stepped into the corridor.

The two could hear Galin making his way until his song grew faint, they then turned to the darkened tunnel. Before entering, Gilliam realized what had been bothering him since the Dwarf left. "Shouldn't a Dwarf be going with us?" He knew he sounded like a disappointed child but he couldn't shake the feeling something was amiss.

Gilliam's feeling of trepidation wasn't helped at seeing his nephew smile. "Have no fear uncle. It's only a ghost from his past, like those we try to avoid." Gilliam nodded, though he didn't feel better about it. The fact the tunnel was narrow and without impediments gave him the feeling they were expected. Nothing but smooth walls no matter where his hands touched and the torch light showed no imperfections. All he needed was a wrought iron gate to close behind them to make the feeling of a trap a reality.

*****

The cool night air bit through Mern's robes when he stepped out into the darkness. The light from the inn and the lamppost seemed feeble in the darkness. Mern glanced at the top of the lamppost, his mind full of ideas and memories. He found himself wondering about the man that had concocted the idea to put long burning candles in the enclosed space of the lamppost to give passersby light to see. It seemed so simple with the small metallic box six inches in diameter with medium sized holes around its exterior and a single funneled hole at the top to draw the smoke out of the compartment.

Mern reprimanded himself for allowing his mind to wander. For all the centuries he lived, his mind only faltered when his age became greater than any mortal thing on Pyrain. The joys of getting old, he chided himself, sore, creaking joints and a weak mind. He chuckled at his own joke, for to him it was just that. He conquered death, sent it scurrying away like a whipped child. He managed to extend his own existence until it matched that of the longest lived of the Elven race and soon he'd outlive even the mighty dragons. Now that was a grand vision, one he fully intended to realize.

He milled around the side of the street by the inn, enjoying the night air on his skin and hair. He made sure not to walk too far away from the safety of the inn's front door. To anyone that might've seen him, he would appear to be an old man wanting a breath of fresh air, nothing strange about that except the late hour. Most of Hope's populace was already in bed, those that weren't were either the city guards or ne'er-do-wells that tended to frequent the bars scattered throughout the city. Six, no seven if he remembered right.

For long minutes, Mern paced back and forth enjoying the feel of crisp air filling his lungs. Satisfied, he turned towards the door but paused as he was about to enter. Over his shoulder he muttered, "Try to keep warm." Then he disappeared into the warmth of the inn, leaving the street quiet and still in the darkness of late night, early morning.

Mern's words would've gone unheard had the one they were intended for not been watching. Across the way and towards the top of a prominent building a large creature sat unmoving in its chosen location. Fech had been watching the human for the better part of three hours. Every so often the wizard would come out and walk around for a few minutes before heading back inside the inn.

Until he heard the old man's taunt, Fech thought Mern knew he was being spied upon, now the gargoyle knew for certain. Somehow the old man was watching him just as Fech was watching the old man. Most likely it was through magic, he reasoned, for Fech remained motionless upon his perch. It was a trait gargoyles mastered since their creation. While this newest development was unexpected, it didn't do much to dampen the gargoyle's spirit. Fech decided to watch this human out of fear he couldn't explain. Unlike others of his kind, Fech could use magic and was quite skilled in the arcane art. More than a match for some human mage, he'd remain where he was. Mern could do nothing against him, the lack of a threat led to overconfidence, a trait that was unknown to the gargoyle race.

Through all his thinking Fech displayed a discipline few other creatures on Pyrain possessed. While most would've become excited and fidgeted, he remained motionless. The only hint of movement came from a rumble in Fech's torso that started by his bowels and moved to his throat. He could taste the human's blood and feel the skin and muscles stretch and tear when he'd rip the old man apart. Even now that he had no element of surprise, Fech decided to remain and watch Mern. His master deserved to know what the human was planning. Once Fech learned what he needed, he'd deliver the human's head to Renard. Satisfied with his plan, the gargoyle remained as still as a statue but instead of a scowl or vicious growl, Fech's face wore a pleased smile.

Chapter 17

The fact the tunnel was free of any obstructions and felt as smooth as ice continued to set warning bells off in Gilliam's mind. Man-made tunnels would never be this smooth, humans took very little care when digging and wouldn't think twice about polishing the walls in such a manner. He only saw two options, either it was built by Dwarven hands or through magic. The latter made his skin crawl and the hair on the back of his neck rise. Gilliam didn't like it, the feeling of that place wasn't evil, it was more angry at their intrusion. He wasn't as sensitive as Berek and Viola were, in fact, he didn't care a thing about magic, but something there disturbed him and he wasn't sure why.

"Do you feel that?" Gilliam spoke low, but due to the quiet the cleric's voice boomed as though he shouted. The loudness of it startled him, nearly causing him to drop the torch. Once he regained his composure, he noticed Berek was gone. A moment earlier he could see his nephew's back a couple of feet ahead of him but now there was nothing but darkness, even the sound of Berek's footfalls were gone.

A moment of panic threatened to overtake the cleric while varying thoughts raced through his mind. Gilliam knew Berek wouldn't have left him, but he never turned around or gave any indication he heard Gilliam's question. Gilliam began wondering if what he saw had even been his nephew, then cursed himself for having such a thought.

He just continued ahead, Gilliam told himself as he quickened his pace. A short distance ahead he didn't see Berek but the soft light of early morning instead. They must've been in the tunnel longer than he thought, the hope that swelled in Gilliam dissipated when he drew closer to the light. It wasn't a way out, but maybe a treasure room of sorts. The light was probably a reflection off of the gold and gems, which meant Berek was a step closer to his goal and that brought a smile to Gilliam's face. The smile faded upon entering the chamber.

Across from him stood a figure he hadn't seen in years. In his astonishment, Gilliam gazed at his surroundings. He was in the Temple of Fallor in Narisia. To be more exact, he stood in what was referred to as the Hall of Mirrors, the room where clerics took their final test of faith before being deemed fit to heal the outside world. Memories of his test came flooding back to him. He passed after healing an elderly woman possessed by some demonic force.

Gilliam remembered it so clearly that he was furious at the memory. The woman was truly inflicted, if he failed the master would've healed her body and soul but the fact the Council dared use such a pathetic wretch for a mere test appalled him. Though there were other reasons, that memory had been the driving force behind Gilliam as he wandered the world in search of... What exactly? Faith? He always had that, though at times he wondered. He cared little for glory, fame and riches; those were prizes of the lowest end of the vast pool of people.

Gilliam's jaw tightened at the unwanted memories. Until that moment, he believed he answered those questions. He was at peace with himself and the world around him, or was that all a lie? Could it be he hadn't found anything he searched for? It looked to him the only thing he learned was to tolerate such actions and that there were no answers. He felt shaken to his core and almost dropped to his knees, but somehow he remained standing. Gilliam supposed it had to do with his old mentor, Master Timble standing before him.

Master Thyrus Timble was a human that, at the time of Gilliam's test all those years earlier, was approaching a hundred years of age. He looked the same that Gilliam remembered, a squat man standing five feet with small squinting eyes, flushed cheeks and a cleanly shaven, many believed, bald head. The image, or man, standing before Gilliam brought many unpleasant memories back to him. Even so, he couldn't help but bow his head out of respect. "Greetings Master Timble."

Timble watched him with a fury that was trying to force its way to the surface. "What did you say? Greetings?" Timble rubbed his red face with his right hand. "You're nearly an hour late for your test and you have the audacity to address me as though nothing was the matter?" His thin, wispy voice broke with the strain of his anger until it sounded like a shriek.

Gilliam was taken aback by his former master's shriek and the fevered look in his eyes. He wasn't an apprentice anymore, hadn't been for many years, but Gilliam felt like the young man he once was during the current reprimand. He knew better than to be late to one of Master Timble's lectures, but especially for his final test. Gilliam looked down at the ground in shame. His gray robes were still covered in the dirt and blood from the tunnel and the fight with the Nursk Brothers.

Gilliam didn't return to his youth, but yet Master Timble stood not more than three feet from him looking like he hadn't aged a day, much less years. Another shriek caused Gilliam to bring his mind back to the present and out of his revelry enough to realize he missed an instruction. Deciding it was in his best interest to admit he was wrong, for why he had no clue, Gilliam bowed. "Forgive me Master, my thoughts were occupied."

The look on Master Timble's face changed to one of understanding but the irritation remained. "Yes, I suppose it would be excusable for another of Fallor's chosen. But not you, Gilly boy." Timble liked to use variations of his pupil's names to embarrass them into trying harder. It was a practice Gilliam loathed. At least Timble's voice stopped its shrieking. It was another item in a list of many Gilliam hadn't missed. "No sir, you sure as hell don't have any excuses here." Timble motioned, "Come on boy, ain't going to hurt you to hustle some. You'd think you never took one of these tests before."

Gilliam paused for a moment, the curiosity in him bubbled to the surface. "Pardon me master, you remember my other test?" Confusion caused Gilliam's mind to wander along the different paths of his imagination.

Master Timble shot him an impatient look that never bode well for the pupil seeing it. "Of course I do. Wonderful job, Gilly boy. Course, if you stumbled around then as you are now neither of the subjects would've been healed."

Gilliam nodded, "Yes Master, forgive me." Cowed by Master Timble, Gilliam lowered his head in a revered bow. Pleased, Master Timble turned, leading Gilliam into the main chamber in the mystic wing. Gilliam's first question was answered, this recreation was aware of Gilliam's previous test. Unnerving as it was, he was grateful to know he hadn't lost his mind. But Gilliam's main question, and greatest fear, was why was he brought back there? And though he wanted to know the answer, the possibility terrified him.

Master Timble appeared pleased by the respect, and apparent subjugation, of Gilliam. "It is not I you should ask forgiveness from, but him." Timble opened the door into a dimly lit room.

Gilliam followed him, curious as to who "him" was. The moment he followed Master Timble into the small chamber all his curiosity was washed away. Forgotten was Gilliam's time in Renard's Company tending to the wounded, reunited with his nephew, and finding his way in the world. The confident cleric was replaced with a bumbling novice terrified of his former master. Across from the door they entered through was a young man chained to the wall and stripped of his clothing.

Gilliam thought he recognized the young man as he looked familiar. Some part of the young man reminded Gilliam that he already took the test, and that was someone else. But instead of having his guard up, the cleric remained relaxed. His body no longer felt the stiffness and sore joints a man in his forties should feel. That was enough proof to him that he was in the right place and time.

Gilliam came to a stop a few feet from the young man and watched him with a mixture of pity and curiosity. He looked so damn familiar, but why?

"He calls himself Berek." Gilliam looked at Master Timble, he knew a Berek. At least, he thought he did. "Poor boy's afflicted and he doesn't believe it." Master Timble's voice continued in its wispy tone.

Gilliam's eyes went back to the familiar, but strange, face contorted in pain. "What is prescribed, Master?"

Master Timble shrugged, "We've done all we can for him." Timble paused as he dabbed a handkerchief over his forehead, it was hot in the room. "He's possessed by some sort of demon. We've tried to lure it out without success. He must now endure."

Gilliam nodded his understanding. When an unfortunate refused to give up the demon within, he's tortured until he does. Only then is the person afflicted healed, hence the name endure. But that practice was outlawed centuries earlier after a temple was cast into the Abyss by Fallor himself in retribution for the souls tortured in his name, at least that was the legend they were taught by the scholars.

Confused, Gilliam looked at Master Timble. "Master, surely you do not wish to inflict some torment on this poor soul. He's already in agony."

Master Timble smiled, "You're correct, Gilly boy, I won't be, it is your task." He silenced Gilliam with a look before continuing. "I've already done so a dozen times. Now it's your turn. Do as I say or you'll be cast out of the order."

It had already been done? Gilliam's mind struggled to grasp that thought. It explained why the young man's face looked so tormented; it wasn't from some interior conflict. "Master, I'm sure that there must be..."

"You are here to be tested. Are you saying its been a waste of time, of my time, boy?" Timble's voice reached its shrieking pitch as his temper flared.

Gilliam took a step back, he never saw his master so irate but what could he do? If he followed instructions he'd hurt someone he wished to help, but if he didn't then he would be cast out of the school. Gilliam looked at the young man again as a pang of sorrow cut into his heart. Gilliam knew that man, he was certain of it.

"Well, what's it going to be, Gilly boy?" Master Timble's voice cracked.

Gilliam paused for a long moment struggling to think. The part of him claiming this wasn't right managed to gain a foot hold. He looked closer at the young man; his eyes were the same color as his brother's.

"Well..." Master Timble began.

I know him... Gilliam's mind fought through the cloud in his mind.

"...what's your..."

Berek, the young man's name was Berek. Gilliam struggled with the truth as it pierced through the web of dissension,

"...decision?" Master Timble stood with a smile on his face.

Gilliam turned to face Master Timble, the feeling of inadequacy and fear passed. The cleric of Fallor stood before his former master, his gaze hard and unforgiving. "I will do neither apparition. You have no power over me."

After the battle of wills over the course of the last few minutes, Gilliam reveled in the power and faith he now felt. It was as though his power had grown though he wasn't sure why or how.

To his surprise, the figure of Master Timble smiled. "Well done cleric, you may pass." Without another word the room appeared to melt and was replaced by the tunnel. The sudden change made him feel uneasy but when Berek, the real Berek, was standing in front of him, he couldn't stop smiling at his nephew.

It took a moment but Berek did return the smile. "It was that trying, uncle?" They both knew the young fighter had faced something all his own but at that moment it wasn't important. Gilliam proved to himself that he was fulfilling his purpose, the fact it came from a magical spell seemed ironic to him. Perhaps magic wasn't the terror most people believed it was.

Berek could feel the difference in his uncle. He became stronger, surer of himself and wiser. The young fighter thought back to his own experience. The enchantment cast on the tunnel sent him back as it did with Gilliam, but his experience strengthened his resolve.

One moment Berek was in the tunnel, its sides were illuminated through his night vision with a whitish hue and the next he found himself in the articulately maintained garden of his mother. Marywell Glossom had always been the envy of the people in Sythia. Every year her flowers bloomed the earliest and remained beautiful long after others long since perished. He took a deep breath, expecting this to be an illusion of sorts, but instead of a lung full of dust and mold, some of the sweetest smells on Pyrain flooded his senses. He was home.

At first joy flowed through him, the last few years must've been a dream. He was never sent away, he fell asleep in the garden reading or writing poetry. Yes, that had to be it. Berek looked down at his hands; they were smooth and free of scars and calluses that had been the mark of life as a fighter. But as with everything in life, a bit of doubt nibbled at the back of his thoughts. This isn't right, the voice told him, don't submit. He knew the voice but not who it belonged to. Whenever he closed his eyes or had any doubts that voice spoke to him reassuring him of his place.

Berek listened to the voice but after a moment he began ignoring it. He wanted to listen, the voice had never guided him wrong, but the desire to be in his home was greater. He wanted to be there over anywhere else and would behave himself and not embarrass his family as he did in his dream.

"Berek!" The booming voice of his father was unmistakable.

Smiling, Berek shook his head. He must've slept though dinner. "Here!"

"Berek!" The call came again.

Berek's father didn't hear him so he set off towards the source of the voice, answering again as he stepped out from the grove of trees beside the pathway through the heart of the garden. "Here, father."

"Ah, there you are son." Saul Glossum's voice was warm and inviting, as it always was, but his face and eyes were ice cold. "Come here son, I'd like you to meet someone."

Berek shivered when a cold chill swept through him. He dreamed about that moment after being sent away. He followed his father without hesitating hoping it had just been a dream but it was not to be. As had been done before, Berek followed his father into the waiting arms of a slave master. This couldn't be, Berek told himself when he first saw the man, but one look into his father's eyes told him it was. This was the day his father sold him into slavery. It was two days prior to him being purchased by Renard for three hundred gold. All due to his father's fear and embarrassment over his son being able to cast magic.

This time Berek stood his ground. "No, father."

Saul's eyes narrowed at his son's lack of obedience. Never thinking himself a cruel man, he blamed his son for the beatings he inflicted upon Berek the day before. After all, it was the boy's fault for the magic. Berek got what he deserved then as he did what was to come. But Saul would not tolerate his son's open disobedience. "Berek, do as I ask."

Berek smiled, finding it amusing how his father sounded so warm, so friendly, and so gentle. The voice that nagged him a moment earlier spoke once more but with more urgency, that time he listened. "I don't think so, father. I've seen this dance before," Berek smiled, "this time you're the puppet."

Saul's warmness evaporated and he became furious, running towards Berek. With a simple word, Berek felt the ecstasy of the magic flow through him as he raised a hand. His father was swallowed by a large, clear bubble and suspended several feet off of the ground. Berek strode over to it and locked his eyes onto those of his father. He noted with some surprise that Saul's eyes looked resigned in the fact they tasted defeat.

"Even after all he did, I would never attack my father. Now let me pass." His father, or the illusion of him nodded and the sight of Berek's mother's garden melted away to be replaced by the dark tunnel and his uncle.

Berek understood what Gilliam must've gone through, for even after all those years it tore at his own heart to relive that horrid day. Once they were ready to commence with their journey the end of the tunnel filled with a bright light. Together, the two men walked towards the light and what awaited.

18

Galin made his way through the tunnel behind the young women. The fact he hadn't seen them yet didn't strike him as strange even though they should've been no more than a few feet ahead of him. He didn't notice because he was lost deep in thought. Galin's a strange Dwarf, he knew each of his kin viewed him as such for his decision. Any Dwarf would prefer to remain below ground if given the choice, even the Hill Dwarves never lost their desire after traveling from their ancestral home below the jagged mountain range covered with the Missing Wood.

The Missing Wood was given the name by humans living near them for the people that went missing in the forests surrounding the large mountain expanse on a regular basis. The superstitious humans never understood another, older race of people lived under the mountains. Those the Dwarves hadn't captured after mislabeling them as spies, often died through some unfortunate accident. The mist hid the dangerous peaks and curves of the mountains the Dwarves called home.

The thick forest had taken its fair share of Dwarven victims as well. It was because of one of those instances that caused Galin to exile himself from his people and choose to live above ground. With that returning memory, Galin heard the familiar rumble of a landslide. The tunnel shook as a pair of screams cut through the air chilling his blood.

"By the forge fire no." Having never been religious, Galin muttered an oath to Crax, the Dwarven God and the forger and craftsman of the Gods.

Regardless of the danger, and the similar memory, Galin raced up the tunnel as fast as his short legs could carry him. His thoughts focused on the young human and Halfling. He could still hear one screaming, he knew what it meant even as he told himself it was only magic.

*****

They were walking side by side through the tunnel, Viola was certain she assessed the spell properly and they'd be fine. It was a feeling Janessa shared, their confidence that nothing could go wrong gave them the courage to continue. Both Viola and Berek agreed on what the spell would do, even though he wasn't a magician, Berek did seem wise in those things. It was at that moment the ground shook beneath their feet and the roof caved in on top of them.

For the longest time Janessa saw only black, like sleeping without dreaming. Around her was nothing, an empty void without substance, direction, or sensation. She tried to move but found her arms and legs refusing to respond, as if they were pinned by a great force. At first, she thought it was a most interesting feeling, having never experienced it before, but it was fleeting. Fear took hold of her and she tried to scream, but no sound came out, she couldn't move her mouth to make a sound. Terrified, Janessa began to cry but no tears could fall from her eyes.

"Janessa!" She heard her name, Viola was calling her. She sounded as afraid as the Halfling felt.

"Janessa!" Again she heard her name, and she tried to answer but no sound came out. Janessa felt a sudden, pulling sensation, like she was being stretched like rubber. The source was by her head, she could feel the force as it tried to draw her towards it, with a gentle but strong power.

Viola had been calling her, that much she knew. Despite its strength, Janessa couldn't let the unseen force win and pull her away from her one true friend. Stripped of everything, she struggled against the force with her lone weapon, her soul. Refusing to let go of Viola's voice Janessa concentrated on its sound and Viola's image with all her essence.

With what took far greater strength than she believed she had, Janessa pulled back, away from the strange force until she felt its grip slipping. With each passing second she felt the hold lessen until she was free. The force of her effort caused her to sit upright in such a fierce motion it tore a gasp from her.

Janessa was back in the tunnel with Viola, except something about it changed. The direction they had been heading was sealed shut by a pile of rocks and dirt and the torches they'd been carrying were off to the side, smothered. She remembered the earthquake and looked around to see if Viola was hurt.

"Jenny..." What had been relief at seeing Viola safe changed to concern. Her friend sat on her knees in front of Janessa, the mage's robes and face was caked in dirt. Aside from her eyes and the streaks on her face left by tears, Viola's face matched the tunnel walls. But it was how she said Janessa's name the last time that gave the Halfling pause. The words escaped as a whimper.

"Viola, what's wrong?" Janessa reached out a hand to touch her friend, to reassure her everything would be alright. To her astonishment and horror, Janessa watched her hand passed right through Viola's shoulder. "No, it can't be..." Janessa's eyes drifted to the ground where she sat. Her left foot and hand were all that was sticking out from under the pile of rocks. That was when she heard the loud footsteps of steel boots and looked up as Galin came into view, his face a mask of sorrow. It was then she accepted what happened. "I'm dead." Janessa muttered.

*****

The rumble and crash of falling rocks was all Viola could remember before she looked down at the remains of her friend. A moment earlier Janessa had been full of life as they made their way through the tunnel. They had just a few feet to go until they'd reach the end, then the illusion would've ended. Viola would've sworn she read the magic right, it wasn't there to harm them, just to test them to ensure they were worthy to continue on.

Guilt and anger swelled inside of her, this wasn't how it was supposed to end. Nothing more than an easy walk through a tunnel to a vast treasure, that was what she expected. Her grief welled up in her as she took Janessa's smaller hand in hers. Between her sobs she wiped the blood from her friend's hand. At first she wanted to blame Berek, he must've known what would happen. Though she wasn't certain why or how, she could sense a power inside of him. Thus far in her life, she never felt anything like it but yet he used no magic as far as she saw. But he agreed with her, he even mentioned the danger they'd face. Or had it been the old man always at Berek's side? She couldn't remember, all she was certain of was they chose the dark path. Her anger swelled in her. "He'll pay for this Jenny, I promise."

Janessa watched her in total confusion, "Who will? Viola what are you talking about?" She screamed at the top of her lungs trying to be heard, but she knew it was no use. "Don't do it." Janessa muttered to herself. Her own thoughts were along the same path as her friend's, but she was certain no one else caused the cave in to happen.

"By Crax's hammer! Are you alright lass?" Though they both either heard the Dwarf coming or saw him, he still managed to surprise them. Janessa noticed the concern on his face. If only she could remember his name. Gylin, Galorn, Galen... she wished she didn't forget such things so easily. If she remembered his name, she could've addressed him, she knew he wouldn't have heard her but it would've helped. She was sure of it.

Galin knelt next to the young human mage. She was barely old enough to begin an apprenticeship by Dwarven standards, yet she'd been forced to see something as heinous as her friend's death. Being as gentle as possible, he rested a hand on Viola's shoulder. "Let it out lass, it'll help more'n you know."

Viola lifted her dirt and tear stained face to his. He could see her pain but there was something darker in her eyes, a darkness he didn't care to see. "He did this." It came from her as a whisper.

"Who lass?"

"Him." She paused for a moment in thought then spit his name out like it was poison. "Berek."

"Oh no! No Viola, don't!" Janessa wailed. She didn't want to be the cause of this.

"No lass, Berek would do no such thing." Galin tried to soothe her. He understood what she was going through; he would've believed it of anyone else but Berek.

Viola eyed him a moment. "Of course you'd say that, you're his friend." Her tears slowed as her anger took hold. "Dwarves aren't known to be friendly towards mages, are they?"

Viola's tone turned icy but Galin didn't flinch. "No lass, we're not. By Crax's Forge, you'd best believe most Dwarves would sooner shave off their beards then look at a wizard. Tis true, I do fall into that category myself, but not like you think."

Galin shifted his weight and sat down next to Viola, it was the least imposing position he could be in aside from lying on the ground. "I have no love for magic, but I don't let that decide who I like or dislike. I've known Berek for years, he's been through a lot more than he'll ever tell but he is honorable. A trait not too common among humans, am I right?" He knew he struck a nerve when Viola's eyes lowered and she nodded. "I came with him and his uncle to help them against a pair of Ogres. It was then I discovered he can perform magic."

Viola's eyes widened, then narrowed. "If you've known him for years, how could you only learn of it a few hours ago?"

Galin shrugged, "I have no answer, just that I never witnessed it before. Neither had anyone else in the company, judging by the Nursk Brothers." He paused a moment as his gaze fell on the pile of debris that took the life of the Halfling. "My point is, I wouldn't be here if I was against magic like you believe, nor would you be if Berek intended to kill you. He's faced tougher opponents in the pits then the lot of us, lass." He smiled, "Most humans only last a few matches, he's done it for the seven years I've known him and longer than that. She's not worth your anger, no--"

"Halflings are?" Viola's rage at Berek left her as she realized what he planned to say. She knew Galin didn't do that to Janessa. But the look she gave Galin could've frozen lava.

Galin sat without flinching and shook his head, continuing as though he hadn't been interrupted. "No one is lass, remember their lives and celebrate them. It's what she would want."

Galin's words touched two hearts just then, but to her misfortune Janessa couldn't cry. "I always knew you cared for me, Viola. But not like this."

For the first time since she was dead, Janessa thought someone heard her when Viola raised her head as new tears found their way down her cheeks. "Then what did this?"

Galin shook his head, memories of his own youth threatened to overwhelm him. "Such is fate, lass. That's why I curse the Gods and walk alone."

Both Viola and Janessa watched him for a moment in shock. "I'm sorry." The two spoke in unison, but only Viola's voice was heard.

The Dwarf rubbed his eyes and shook his head, "Thank you lass, but now isn't the time." He glanced around, "We need to find another way out." He looked over his shoulder at the way they'd come. The entrance to the tunnel was sealed by a large rock. "That's why I don't trust magic, it would seal us in here."

Viola followed his motion and she understood. To Dwarves it wasn't fear, as it was the reason for other races, that drove them to dislike magic. To them it wasn't practical like a hammer and their other tools were. She couldn't help but smile at her own foolishness. "I'm sorry. I didn't understand, but I do now."

Galin turned back to her, his face pale and sweaty. "It's alright lass. I'm guilty of the same thing." He swallowed, fighting back his growing fear. "You'll not get me that easy you great bitch." Galin mumbled to himself, unaware Viola heard him.

The instant he turned back to face her, Viola could tell something was wrong. In just a few seconds Galin lost all color in his face and threatened something she hadn't seen. "Are you alright?"

Even Janessa was worried. Galin looked as if he'd join her in the afterlife at any moment.

After a pause Galin shook his head to try to clear it. He couldn't let his fear win. "I'm fine. Think you can magic us out of here lass?"

Viola almost said yes but stopped herself. Her magic betrayed her and killed her friend. She had no idea what would happen if she tried to cast a spell. Instead, she looked down at her dead friend as if she could see her through the rock. "What about Jenny?"

For the first time Galin nearly lost control of his fear. He wanted to shout at the young mage to forget her and get the out of that hellhole but he held back, barely restraining himself. "She'll be fine, the rocks are as good a tomb as any. Besides," he moistened his lips, "if we move any of them it'll cause another cave in."

It took a moment for the words and their meaning to reach the recesses of Viola's mind. She wondered if it'd be so bad. Being dead would end their torment. She lost her best friend, her magic betrayed her, and they would die as a result. Nothing mattered at that moment to her except peace.

It became obvious to Galin the young mage was ready to give up, but being driven by his fear forced him to find a way out. It was then he glanced at the torches on the walls. While the ones Janessa and Viola were carrying were smothered by the cave-in, the ones already there were lighted somehow and he doubted the young mage was responsible. Three were burning in the area trapping them.

A thought cut through the thick haze Galin's fear had woven about him. He wasn't sure when the tunnel behind him closed, but he was certain they should be gasping for breath by now. The lit torches would've used up their air by then leaving them to die through asphyxiation. He glanced around at the walls, no dust moved and the fire of the torches burned steady, meaning there wasn't a breeze moving through the tunnel. With a final deep breath he reasserted control over his fear. A Dwarf with claustrophobia wasn't any good to anyone. It was no wonder he thought this seemed so similar, it was! Everything, even the tunnel changed into the same one he was trapped in all those years earlier. Except this time the magic of the tunnel gave him company.

With the exception of being surrounded by the Missing Wood, the tunnel was exactly how he remembered it. When it happened to him, he'd entered the hidden entrance to the Dwarven kingdom. Built during the Kingdom's early days as an emergency escape route, Galin didn't find that the least bit coincidental, the tunnel was used as a way to bypass the main gates. That also meant one could bypass the tolls the gate keepers collected as their payment for their duties. Not the most noble of means of making a living, the gatekeepers were often looked down upon and jokes about their close relations to Gully Dwarves were often spoken over a tall pint of ale.

Being mostly honest and hardworking people, some of the Hill Dwarves mapped out the tunnel and shared it with their closest friends. That was how Galin learned of its existence. His lifelong friend Rylon and his younger brother Barnin acquired a copy of the map and together the three used it on numerous occasions to sell their wares or services without paying the gatekeepers. The collapse happened on their fifth journey through the tunnel while they were returning from one of the neighboring human kingdoms. The gold they earned threatened to break their pack animals in two but it was worth it. They were just inside the tunnel to where they could still see the daylight when the ground shook. In seconds, the three were buried under tons of rock. Only Galin survived, owing more to chance than skill, he was thrown under an outcropping that protected him from the larger rocks of the tunnel. It took him four days to dig himself out, the loss he suffered through the lives of his friends gave him a queer feeling anytime he stepped foot inside a cave or tunnel. Before others could learn of his newfound cowardice, Galin left his home in self-imposed exile rather than tarnish the name of his family.

With the realization of what was happening to them, Galin felt his fear dwindling. "Lass, try the simplest spell you know." He watched the smooth tunnel walls with contempt; he wanted nothing more than to be done with this place.

Viola raised her head, glancing at him. "What? Why?"

Galin motioned about them, "I've been here before, many years ago. This is meant to terrify us. It's feeding on our fears like some parasite."

Viola eyed him, not sure if she could or should believe him. "How can you be sure? If you're wrong I could kill us all."

"Lass, if you don't do anything we will die." Galin's voice was measured but there was still a tremor of fear in it.

Janessa's gaze went from one to the other. Galin was right, she could feel it. Her greatest fear was to die and not be able to touch anything, Viola's was the same as any other mage, that her magic would fail her. Without hesitation she turned to Viola, reaching out for her, even though her hand still went through Viola's it seemed there was more resistance than there had been. Realization dawned on her, their fears must be faced together! "Viola! Listen to him, he's right! I know it! Viola!"

A cold chill entered Viola's hand where Janessa's touched her. It wasn't a numbing cold; it had a sense of warmth to it that came with life. In her ear she swore she could hear a tiny voice that sounded like Janessa's. Thinking she was growing delirious from grief or lack of air, Viola shook her head. Galin was right; if she didn't try they would die anyway. At least if her magic did fail there was a chance it'd be quick and painless.

Viola took a deep breath as the words to the spell formed in her mind and the building ecstasy began to flow through her. When the magic filled her, she spoke the words to the locator spell she hadn't used earlier at the behest of her friend. Asking the spell to find Janessa, a small orange orb appeared in front of Viola before moving off to fulfill its mission. After a moment's hesitation the small orange orb stopped two feet off the ground, above the visible body of the invisible Halfling. Resting by the center of the kneeling Halfling spirit's chest, Janessa's physical form began to take shape.

The flicker of a shape caused both Galin and Viola to take in a deep breath. Once Janessa was visible, though still transparent, she waved at Viola. "Not a bad spell." Janessa hoped her words would be heard but it was apparent they still couldn't hear her but her appearance had the desired effect as Viola felt her fear melt away. Both ends of the tunnel opened as the spell trapping them was broken with one leading into a vast chamber emanating a strange glow.

"Now that was interesting." The sound of her own voice startled Janessa but not near as much as the shock of Viola's weight as she flung herself on the smaller Halfling, hugging her tight. In her excitement, Janessa failed to notice the previous image of her crushed body disappeared with the debris from the cave-in.

"I... I thought I lost you." Fresh tears flowed down Viola's clean face. She couldn't remember ever being so happy. The memory of the magical illusion of her friend being dead began fading in the face of her joy.

Galin let out a breath and wiped his eyes clean of his own tears before smoothing his beard. It'd be a long time before he'd go into another tunnel or cave. His eyes settled on the soft glow flowing from the chamber ahead of them. "Come; let's find out if our trouble was worth it all."

Janessa and Viola separated then followed the Dwarf, neither intended to let the other go as they held onto each other's hand. They came to a stop when they heard Galin's oath, "By Crax's beard."

Chapter 19

In the comfort of his room, Mern smiled at the sight of the treasure room. His smile froze for a moment as he assessed the players in his little game. The two females he could trust, or manipulate to do as he wished. That was his sole reason for befriending them, but the three males... they posed an interesting problem. While the magical lock on the entrance wasn't his doing, he was curious as to whose it was; the enchantment on the tunnels had been his own doing. He was in Renard's camp long enough to suspect the two humans were there for fear of the outside world and once manifested their fears would ensnare them in their strands. He couldn't have been more wrong, worse was how badly he judged the mage and her friend. Had it not been for the Dwarf, Galin, they would've been the ones trapped and he could've what little magic they had to enhance his own. At least he could've used Berek and Gilliam if he had to, or he was certain it was a possibility.

Now, with his original plans torn asunder, he picked up the pieces and tried to rearrange them to fit in his mind. Mern sensed a great power emanating from the fighter since he first saw the young man, but Berek trusted his instincts too much to be a reliable minion. Gilliam the cleric? He had a better chance of sharing the throne of the Gods with their beautiful warrior queen Valka then turning the cleric against his beliefs. Galin was too compassionate and grounded; Mern was left with little choice but to continue with the other two. He had to rethink his strategy.

Mern glanced at the dragon orb in its stand off to his right. "Soon, my Master, soon you shall have what you deserve." His eyes could only remain on the orb for another moment before he was forced to turn away. Its beauty was both a blessing and a curse for him. Too beautiful to look upon for long, but too beautiful to look away. Just like his Master, he thought, that was part of the reason he was ensnared by her. The weakness of his body doomed him to servitude; perhaps it could do the same to the most dangerous pieces in his game. Mern sat back in his chair, how to make use of such a weakness? His mind poured over different scenarios as a general would examine his plans before a great battle, always probing for a weakness in the armor.

*****

A low whistle escaped from Berek as he gazed on the contents of the chamber. The others arrived the same moment as he and Gilliam and aside from the Dwarf's exclamation, no one else spoke for the longest time. After what felt like an eternity, Janessa stepped forward and picked up a ruby the size of his hand.

"Jenny!" Viola wanted to shout but her voice came out as a hissing whisper of warning.

Startled, Janessa spun around as she slipped the ruby into a pouch. "What? There's no one here. We found it so we get to keep it."

"I don't think that's what she meant." Gilliam's voice was tight as he fought for control. He agreed to this because he didn't think the rumors were true. But now that they'd become reality, he disliked what he knew would happen. This wealth belongs to the city of Hope, he thought, do we have a claim? As Gilliam thought one thing he spoke another, "It may well be cursed. I doubt anyone would leave something this valuable unguarded or forgotten." He emphasized the final word to make a subtle argument which earned him a look from his nephew. He ignored the look. "Perhaps only the rightful owner may take it from here."

Everyone remained quiet for a moment as they digested the cleric's words. To Gilliam's astonishment only Berek and Galin seemed to hear his subtle meaning. "He's right lass. Best do a check before we try to take any more."

Janessa squirmed, not at what was said, but as a child would when they were told they couldn't play with their favorite toy. She looked to Viola, "I don't feel any different but you'd better do it anyway." Janessa fought to keep her eyes on her friend, or any of the companions against the will her eyes seemed to express about returning to the treasure.

Viola nodded, bringing the necessary spell to mind. She hoped the entire chamber would be magiked, and then they could avoid potential arguments over how to share the treasure. She knew what Gilliam meant, and the look Berek gave the older man wasn't friendly in the least. At least Janessa hadn't been offended; she took pride in not being a "common" thief.

With the words to the spell blazing in her mind Viola took a pinch of sand from her pocket and tossed it in a wide arc so it encompassed the room while she began speaking the language of magic. It was the first time she attempted the reveal magic spell at that level and she wasn't sure she did it properly. When the magic surged through her she couldn't contain her gasp of joy when the ecstasy of the magic engulfed her and flowed into the chamber.

To everyone's surprise, and heartache, all but a small handful of items glowed. Drained, Viola placed her hand on the wall to steady herself. "Quickly... before the spell fades. Take whatever isn't glowing."

Not having to be told twice, and happy the ruby in her pocket hadn't started to glow, Janessa leapt into the treasure and started to grab everything that wasn't glowing or tied down, and of course, what she could carry. Galin and Berek, ignoring a pleading look from Gilliam, were far more gracious and reserved in their task. With so few objects not magiked they were able to gather them all as the spell ended.

The group stood at the opening to the chamber holding everything from trinkets to jewelry to a diamond encrusted sash. None spoke as they looked at one another, bursting into laughter at the sight they each made with their arms burdened with the items.

Once they quieted Galin spoke, "I don't suppose anyone thought to bring something to carry all of this?" There were eleven items in all; most were too large to carry without notice.

Gilliam had been the only one not to laugh at the lunacy of it all. He stood with a cynical smile on his face. "I suppose this means we put everything back." The rest of the group looked at him in shock. Berek was the first to move as he set his items on the ground. The cleric smiled with pride at his nephew, "Well done nephew."

Berek motioned for Gilliam to be quiet. The look in Berek's eyes was one of sorrow. "I'm sorry uncle, but we need your cloak.

Gilliam's smile vanished. His cloak? What could they want...? His thought trailed off when realization dawned on him. Irritated, he removed his heavy traveling cloak and handed it to Berek. "Stooping this low nephew?"

Berek took the cloak as well as his and spread them out on the ground. In a moment he had them crisscrossed into a sturdy sack and put the items that would fit into its center. Once done he twisted and tied the four ends together to form a type of handle then handed it to Galin.

With his endeavor finished, his eyes locked with Gilliam's in a forceful battle of wills neither of them could break. "Not all of us are privileged to come and go as we please, uncle."

The rest of the small group looked on for a moment. Viola and Janessa expected to see punches thrown or some kind of manly display between the two. Galin shifted uneasily as he watched, "Easy lads. It's been a long day, some ale and roast will make us all feel better."

Gilliam flushed, ashamed of what he said and contemplated doing. After everything that happened in the last day to improve their relationship, he almost wrecked it with a single act. "Berek, I..."

Berek turned from him; too angry to hear anything his uncle had to say. "Can you get us out of here?" He asked Viola, not wishing to make a scene.

Viola nodded, "Where do you want to go?" Berek shrugged, anywhere but there was said without a word being spoken.

"To our room, there we can rest and figure out what to do next." Janessa's suggestion went unchallenged and with a nod Viola took another pinch of sand from her pouch, throwing it at the wall as she spoke the magical words. A large circular doorway appeared with swirling purple and white smoke in front of the image of a room at the inn. The swirling texture of the portal suggested a powerful wind, but it was a magical wind as none of them felt the slightest brush of air.

They entered with Galin muttering about how Dwarves weren't made to travel by such means. Berek and Gilliam stepped through last. A nod and slight smile from his nephew let Gilliam know all was forgiven. Not everyone was able to overcome their lifelong teachings in one day and Berek understood that better than most.

The journey through the portal wasn't unpleasant like Galin expected, rather it was as simple as walking into another room. Aside from a tingling sensation similar to traveling during a lighting storm, he had no complaints. But be that as it may, he couldn't ever remember being so grateful to feel solid wood beneath his feet. Being that he's a Dwarf, such a claim is damn close to a miracle.

"That was great! It sure beats that levitation spell of yours, Viola!" Janessa danced around the room overjoyed at the experience.

Galin shook his head while setting the makeshift bag of treasure on the floor then leaned back to stretch his back muscles. "I'm getting too old for this."

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, "You've got another hundred years in you." The laughter buried in Berek's tone was no surprise to the Dwarf.

Galin glanced up at Berek, noticing both the smile and Gilliam's changed mood. So, he hadn't been mistaken about the imbedded laughter. Relieved to see they buried the axe, and not in each other's head, Galin returned the smile. "Aye lad, so long as I'm not used as a pack mule."

"But you're built for it." Berek's comment earned him a raised eyebrow from Gilliam and surprised looks from Janessa and Viola but Galin burst into laughter. It was something he enjoyed about the human, few could match his peculiar sense of humor.

"And you're built like an elf; though no where near as ugly." Galin's words came between chuckles that shook his entire body.

Janessa started laughing with them, the terror and uneasiness they experienced just a few minutes earlier seemed like an eternity ago. "So... how do we divide it?"

A good question and each considered it while not wanting to offend their comrades. "I suggest we take turns choosing. Afterwards, we could trade for an item we didn't get. Agreed?" It took a moment before everyone realized it was Gilliam who spoke but each agreed it was the fairest way to split the spoils. The next question was obvious but Gilliam cut it off before it grew legs and ran. "You should go first young lady; you did lead us to it." He motioned to Janessa; the surprise was evident by the look on her face.

Berek couldn't help but smile, "Are you certain uncle? No charity?" The rest paused for a moment, certain that would spark another argument between the two. Indeed, Berek meant for it to test Gilliam as to whether he had changed or if he was faking it to avoid a confrontation, something their family had always shown a talent.

To Gilliam's credit, he knew and understood what Berek meant. Trust was earned, but there was a limit to everything. Gilliam nodded, "It isn't charity nephew. Everyone here earned it."

Confused, but willing to accept their terms, Janessa patted her pocket where the ruby was. "Thanks, but I got it already.

Viola smiled, shaking her head. There was something about Janessa she could always count on besides her loyalty as a friend: she spoke her mind. When everyone looked at her Viola flushed and motioned to Galin, "You first, Sir Dwarf. If it hadn't been for your bravery we'd still be in the tunnel."

Galin flushed from embarrassment, he knew his fear would've had him pleading with her to cast a spell to get them free if they were trapped any longer. But he is a Dwarf, and they don't admit they're afraid under any circumstances. Besides, he reasoned, it'd ruin the moment and the festive mood they were sharing. So, reassured he was doing so out of a chivalrous nature, he settled on the diamond encrusted scarf.

To answer the strange looks and smiles the others gave him he shrugged, "The diamonds are harder than rock, a Dwarf must respect that." The others smiled, but none more so than Janessa, who began developing certain feelings for the Dwarf. After their time in the tunnel he seemed more like a father to her than a friend.

Next was Viola; the young mage looked over the pile with a careful eye. She knew what she wanted. She saw it as soon as they entered the chamber. After a moment, she found the item of her desire hidden under a small pile of jewels. She felt a wave of accomplishment sweep over her as she held a tiny crown in her hand. Made of gold with silver lining underneath and various gems imbedded in the precious metal, it seemed to shine with a light all of its own. An intake of breath next to her caught Viola's attention.

"That's beautiful! I wish I saw it." Janessa's eyes looked as though they wanted to leap from her head at the beauty of the crown.

Viola smiled, resting a hand on her friend's shoulder. Janessa returned the smile since she took what she wanted, and contrary to popular belief, Halflings never stole from their friends. The rest of the distribution went smoothly as the only items of worth was a hand carved walking stick decorated with gold and a medallion with the healing God of Light's symbol of two open hands, palms facing out resting on one another. That piece, Gilliam took as it was only fitting a cleric of Fallor should carry it.

Once everything was divided as equally as possible, Viola and Janessa went about the business of finding room for their guests. While the Horse's Head was comfortable, their room was barely large enough to accommodate the two of them. To fit five would have involved a magical undertaking to say the least. Also, there was old man Winston to consider. Janessa knew from experience he didn't like having extra guests in the rooms. The problem, as she saw it, was there weren't any open rooms for them. Unsure of what to do she voiced her concerns to Viola and the others.

When Janessa finished the five of them considered their problem for a few moments. It was well after midnight, so they couldn't check into another inn since no one was admitted into the city after dark. Besides, the three males were still covered in Ogre blood, albeit it was mostly dry by that point, and wouldn't be admitted into a tavern, much less any reputable inn.

Galin shrugged and caressed his beard, "Only thing to do is stay in my tent."

Berek and Gilliam looked at him as though he sprouted a second head and began breathing fire. "Back to Renard's camp? That's insane." Gilliam shook his head, "We'd all be dead.

"Not necessarily. He probably thinks we've run off or the Nursk Brothers killed us." Berek's mind was working over the possibilities. They had options, albeit not very good ones.

"But Fech will surely be looking for us." Gilliam didn't say the word 'you', which gave Berek some much needed relief.

"He should've been waiting for us with the Ogres; even though they hated each other he wouldn't disobey Renard." Berek's argument made sense, but something about it didn't feel right.

"Unless he's off on his own mission. Don't forget lad, seeing the Nursk Brothers dead would be worth the risk to a gargoyle." Galin crossed his arms in thought; it was too dangerous for them to return. Even if he was off on his own, Fech could easily find them, of that he was certain.

At the mention of the word gargoyle, Janessa's eyes opened wide. "I've never seen a gargoyle, how big is it?"

Viola shook her head and Gilliam answered without breaking his concentration. "Too damn big."

While the rest tried to think of something that could be done, Berek found a corner of the room and sat on the floor with his back and head resting in the corner against the wall. "We've had a long night, let's get some rest and figure out what needs to be done in the morning."

The others stopped and looked at him as he yawned. Gilliam and Galin exchanged glances and smiled. "Ladies, it looks like we'll take you up on your offer for the night."

Both Janessa and Viola smiled at them, both watched their guests find their spots on the floor to spend the remainder of the night. Each of the women smiled for different reasons. Janessa liked the company, having them around gave her a sense of family she hadn't felt in years. Viola smiled because somewhere in her mind she knew things would get easier. She didn't believe it in a visceral way, she just felt elated for a reason she couldn't identify. Sometime in that hour the last of the companions drifted off to sleep while down the hall an old mage made ready his plans.

Chapter 20

Sometime before dawn Berek stirred, he wasn't sure why but he had the feeling he needed to get moving. When he opened his eyes, the room was still dark gray with the predawn light. Around him his friends were fast asleep, some snoring while others whimpered. Reliving their experience in the tunnel, he thought to himself as he stood and stretched out his aching muscles.

He didn't mind the stiffness or soreness from sleeping in the corner, but it was something he wouldn't recommend over a bed. With a few twists of his arms and waist he worked out any kinks remaining from his sleep and readied himself to leave. Before he moved too far he paused by Gilliam, his uncle chose a spot close to Berek's but still far enough away so they wouldn't disturb each other. Next to him Berek placed the golden goblet and most of the jewels he claimed after their adventures the previous night. It wasn't much, but he hoped Gilliam would understand when he woke.

"Goodbye uncle." Berek whispered. The sound of his voice caused Gilliam to fidget but the cleric didn't wake. As quietly as he could, Berek closed the door behind him.

When he stepped further into the hallway he heard the soft rustle of soft leather to his left. Berek recognized his company before the old man stepped out from the shadows. "Leaving so soon warrior? I don't think your friends would approve."

"I'm not in the mood for your parlor tricks Mern. I have work to do." Berek had never said more than a few words to the mage and that early in the day he doubted the habit would change.

Mern smiled, his gray whiskers seemed to be on fire in the candlelight emblazoning the rest of the hallway. "I assure you, this is no parlor trick. I feel it's only fair to warn you that if you go alone you will not survive. But then you already know that, don't you? You feel you're a disgrace to your family... don't you? One cannot alter the path the Gods have chosen for us my boy, nor quarrel with their decisions."

Berek shot the mage a look of anger that caused Mern to take a step back. A sign of fear the mage hadn't shown for centuries. "Go back to your room wizard and pretend you know what events are happening beyond your door. Your wisdom and age don't control my destiny, old man." Without another word Berek turned and strode down the hallway.

Mern watched him go with interest. Berek was correct, the old mage had no reliable foresight of the future, nor could he control one's destiny. But what he did better than most was to plant the seeds of the future in the present. Before speaking to Berek, Mern believed the fighter could win since both Renard and Fech had no understanding of the power the young man was capable of wielding. Not a single seed of doubt could take root even in the forged steel of Berek's soul.

Smiling to himself, Mern entered his room and eased himself back into his warm bed. The morning would be most interesting. With any luck he'd rid himself of Berek and that wretched gargoyle.

*****

The flap of leathery wings was the only thing that could've given away Fech as he returned from a hunting excursion. Though he was loathe to leave his observation point, he did have to eat and while he was only gone for a few minutes to catch a rabbit, it wasn't as grievous as when he fell asleep for a few hours after Mern went back to his room.

As he did every hour since arriving after finding the Nursk brothers dead, he questioned himself whether or not he should return to his master and inform him of their failure. His failure, he reminded himself, for he should've been with the Ogres to act as messenger. Echoing his previous decisions, Fech decided against that action. His instincts told him the human wizard was a threat and he was determined to keep a watchful eye on him to protect his master. Fech would be punished for his lack of action against the two humans earlier, but he smelled something different about Mern. The old mage carried the stench of decay with him mixed with something the gargoyle knew by instinct.

The power around Mern wasn't entirely his, and Fech knew the owner. If he did nothing else that day he would end the life of the Hand of the dragon known as Fyrelynx. His own death would be welcomed if it kept the ancient red queen where she was.

So intent was Fech on his thoughts, he nearly missed the human leaving the inn by skulking about in the shadows. Under normal circumstances, such an event would be of little concern to him as it was easy for the gargoyle to recognize the human as not being Mern even though the man's features were hidden by a cloak. With his curiosity aroused, Fech continued to watch the man for a few moments. Something about the way he moved seemed familiar to Fech. A sudden stiff early morning breeze brought the faint smell of Ogres to his nose. Fech leapt from his perch and glided towards his target. If he was right he'd be able to solve a problem and avoid punishment.

*****

Stang was fast asleep in the soft chair behind the bar by the inn's entrance. It was child's play for Berek to sneak past him and out the door. The sun hadn't risen over the horizon yet which left the street in a grayish light after the candles in the streetlamps burned out.

Berek pulled his cloak over his shoulders against the morning chill and did his best to remain in the shadows. While there wasn't anyone in the streets that early, he wasn't sure why he felt so helpless. The city's guards were at the wall, Janessa told him before, they never patrolled the streets. He couldn't understand how Hope hadn't burned down by accident with the lack of patrols. No city could possibly be that quiet and safe.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, than he heard something above him, but before he could move, a pair of powerful talons grabbed him by his upper arms and lifted him into the air. He knew it was Fech by the way he was being carried. Worse still, the creature's grip made it impossible for him to reach his sword.

"Please struggle human. It'll make my job easier." Fech's gravel voice cut off any thoughts Berek may have had about escaping. All Berek needed was a look down at the tops of the trees passing beneath his feet to understand. Fech hadn't lied, he really hoped Berek would struggle and when he didn't Fech chuckled. "Are you still alive? If not I'll drop the dead weight, human."

"I'm alive." Fech chuckled at the sound of Berek's response. He was impressed with the human. Berek kept his voice even with no sign of fear, even going so far as to sound annoyed.

"Tell me human, where were you off to? Our master has been worried about you."

Under any other circumstances Berek would've smiled, but from their current height anything he did was dangerous to his health. "I'm sure he is. I hope I haven't caused too much trouble." Tears began sliding down his cheeks due to the cold air battering him from the front and above with each wing beat causing Berek to wish Fech would find a thermal and glide for a while.

The cold didn't bother Fech when he flew, he found it exhilarating. For reasons unknown to him, other races believed the myth about gargoyles being cold-blooded. Oh well, that just made it easier for his kind to thrive in colder environments. "Not too much as far as I'm concerned. However, I doubt the Nursk Brothers would agree, don't you think?"

Berek offered no response leaving the two to fly in silence until reaching Renard's camp. At least Berek got there faster then he planned. He was amazed at how easy it was to distinguish the various tents and buildings from one another. The forge, cleric's tent, fighter's tents, and even Renard's were set up in an organized pattern he never would've guessed possible from ground level. Of course, the thought of doing so never occurred to him before then.

The sun's first rays of the day broke over the horizon, blinding him as they flew lower to land in front of Renard's personal tent. Berek swore to himself, Fech did that on purpose. Any discomfort on Berek's part brought a chuckle from the gargoyle. Before Berek could utter another curse the ground came rushing at them.

Fech released Berek from his grasp ten feet from the ground, not far enough to do the human serious harm but it would give birth to some bruises and, Fech hoped, scare the shit out of Berek. He watched with amazement when the human struck the ground hard and rolled to a stop. It wasn't what Fech hoped to see, but it still amused him. Snickering to himself, Fech landed beside the human, displaying far more gracefulness of course.

The noise of their landing, or rather Berek's, woke Renard and those nearby from a sound sleep. While the others that were disturbed rolled over back into the waiting arms of their dreams, Renard charged from his tent furious. "Fech! How dare you wake me with such a display! I should..." Renard's voice trailed off when he noticed Berek Rising to his feet. "Ah, welcome home warrior. So nice of you to grace us with your presence." The sarcasm was so thick Berek didn't think a deaf man would've missed it.

Berek pulled his leather tunic down from his shoulders while giving the gargoyle a nasty look. Fech, of course, chuckled. "Truth is, I was on my way to see you when I was ambushed."

Renard smiled, although his eyes continued burning like a fierce fire in an attempt to consume him with their intensity. "And you brought me gifts I suppose?" He motioned to Berek's sword.

Berek smiled, "As a matter of fact I did. I came to buy my contract."

At hearing Berek's declaration, the fire in Renard's eyes dwindled, replaced with a cold intensity seen only when he counted the day's earnings. "Is that so? Then I assume you're willing to pay for my property which you damaged." Seeing Berek wasn't about to say anything he continued, "Two well trained and schooled Ogres," Renard ignored the growl from his pet, he'd deal with Fech's attitude another time, "and of course one missing cleric." Renard's eyes turned skyward as if they were trying to see inside his mind while he did his calculations. "All together I'd say a thousand gold pieces would be fair." Renard's grin broke into a wide smile, "Now if you have that much then we can do business." He laughed at the absurd amount, he knew there was no way possible for Berek, or any of his other fighters to come up with that kind of money.

Berek let him have his laughter and fun for a few moments. When he had enough, Berek pulled his hand out of one of his pockets. In it he held four diamonds, easily more than enough. "I want a receipt and this accursed brand off." He pulled the leather wrist bands back to reveal a black R surrounded by a ring of fire.

Renard's surprise was complete. He never saw jewels as beautiful as those Berek offered. It took a moment for him to understand what was being said and to regain his composure. "By all means, come and make yourself at home." Renard drew the tent flap aside for Berek. After Berek entered his tent, Renard cast a commanding look at Fech, "Find out where he got them," was what it told the gargoyle. Renard closed the tent flap behind him and the sound of large leathery wings forced air against the tent.

Renard's mind was full of questions and strategies as he sat in his usual chair. Berek, he noted, chose to remain standing. The only way Berek could've gotten diamonds like those were by stealing them. Renard's options, as he could see them, were that he could turn the fighter over to the local Sherriff but the reward would be nowhere near the worth of the gems. Second, he could allow Berek to buy out his contract then have Fech kill him in the forest. And third, he would then learn whom Berek had gotten the diamonds from so that Renard could help himself. He liked the combination of the final two and his mind went to work on how to do just that while also beginning to negotiate for Berek's contract.

Chapter 21

The first rays of the sun weren't strong enough to break through the curtains in the companion's room but that didn't stop a few of them from stirring. The first to do so were Viola and Janessa, simply because neither one was used to hearing snoring.

Snoring is one of the talents all Dwarves have, they have been known to boast of it in the same breath as a great deed they performed. It's prudent to note you never tell a Dwarf they snore, most take it as a great insult for, to them, they heard the call of a great beast. But when they wake the beast ran away at the coming of a brave Dwarf. With that in mind, all Dwarves know they snore, Galin included. He was proud the other Dwarves refused to camp near him during his travels.

To his credit Gilliam never snored, he was one of the quietest sleepers in all of Pyrain. Still, he learned to ignore the sound after all his years serving as a cleric with Renard's company. Even during his apprenticeship under Master Timble, the students were given private quarters to enhance their meditation. While he could ignore the snoring across the room, the yell that woke him was unexpected.

Janessa and Viola spent most of the night sitting in their bed looking at each other. After a while, Viola pulled a pillow over her head to try to block out the sound coming from Galin.

Janessa watched her friend try to block out the noise then looked back at the shape of the Dwarf. She knew him due to the noise he was making, but also because he was the only one that lain down in the middle of the floor. Both Gilliam and Berek were polite enough to find places to rest in the shadows and hadn't bothered to snore.

"How can one person make so much noise?" Janessa muttered to herself as she looked around for something she could use. Settling on her weapon, Janessa grabbed the pillow Viola was using to cover her ears, ripped it from her friend's grasp, and threw it at Galin.

"Hey!" Viola sat up in time to see her pillow land on Galin's face.

The sudden impact on his face, though light, was enough to drive a loud boisterous cry from the Dwarf who leapt to his feet to face the culprit that snuck up on him. "Who did that?" With a red face and wide eyes, Galin's surprise faded after he remembered where he was and upon seeing the irritated faces of the women his face flushed. "Sorry lass, guess the beast run off."

Galin's cry startled Gilliam to the point he nearly had a heart attack, he was willing to bet the rest of the inn was in the same condition. Despite the suddenness of it, the cleric was quick to respond to an apparent threat as he stood near the Dwarf, his mace at the ready. Realizing it'd been a false alarm. He lowered the mace, shaking his head, he expected Berek to be sitting in his corner chuckling at the sight of them. The thought of it threatened to make Gilliam laugh but he fought against the urge, choosing to smile instead.

He turned, resting his eyes on where his nephew was supposed to be. What he saw, or rather didn't see, wiped his mind of its jovial thoughts. "Anyone know where Berek is?" Berek was a grown man and capable of taking care of himself, but it was a family member's duty to be worried when one went missing.

The rest of the companions turned to look at him in astonishment; none of them noticed their friend missing. "Probably went for a walk or to use the privy." Galin mused, ashamed for not noticing his friend's absence sooner.

"Surely, we would've heard something." Janessa glanced around the room as if the fighter would materialize out of the shadows.

Normally we would've, was the shared thought among them. Even Galin blamed himself before the others had a chance to, though to their credit none did. Each was sure they would've, or should've, heard something even with the Dwarf's hammering snores.

"He moves like an elf, isn't that what you said earlier Galin?" Gilliam glanced at the Dwarf. Both of their faces were etched with concern.

Galin lifted his eyes to Gilliam's. He knew what the human was trying to do. "Aye, that I did lad."

The cleric smiled, resting a hand on the Dwarf's shoulder. "Then none of us would've heard him in any case." While Gilliam could see his comment cheered the Dwarf, he couldn't help but worry. "The morning is still young, he may yet return to make us all look foolish."

Galin's eyes smiled at Gilliam even if his face did not. "If he does lad, I may have to kill him for it."

Viola rolled her eyes and exchanged a look with Janessa that stated: MEN!

Janessa chuckled as she jumped out of bed to begin the daily search for her shoes. "We may as well see to breakfast, no sense in killing one another on an empty stomach."

The mood in the room changed from somber to weak cheerfulness as the companions got dressed and, in Gilliam and Galin's case, tried to wipe away the encrusted Ogre's blood. "Haven't had so much filth on me since the Tribal Wars when I was a young lad. Damn stuff would cause nightmares for a weaker Dwarf." Galin never felt so happy to wash up in his life. Even the stench began to fade.

Gilliam had problems of his own to deal with at the moment. While his traveling cloak protected him from a majority of the blood, it became stiff as a board in the corner where he set it after unloading their treasure. The chill of the night air wasn't his biggest concern as any traveling cloak would suffice, it was due to the fact his cloak had become a part of him. Ten years old and barely frayed, it'd been with him during a vast majority of his adventures and he came to view it as a good luck charm. While other clerics wore medallions or prayed for security, he had his cloak. Looking at it now, he felt foolish thinking of it as a part of him. One battle and he was upset at having to replace his cloak.

Viola watched the others go about their business of starting the day off with her own somber thoughts. She wanted to be happy and felt she should be while being ready for any adventure the day would bring but something wouldn't let it happen. It felt as though some dark shadow had descended over her, trying to warn her about something. As hard as she tried, Viola couldn't shake off the dark feeling.

Determined not to allow something as childish as a feeling control her, Viola pulled her gray robes on and was ready to leave the room before her companions. As usual, Janessa was right next to her in a heartbeat, to her surprise both men were picking up their weapons and slinging them over their shoulders. Viola gave them both an approving glance, though she wasn't sure as to why. It occurred to the young mage that they looked as though they were heading into a battle rather than breakfast. Viola paused by the door, her hand on the handle, something about the scene struck her.

Janessa looked at her, she sensed something different but she didn't have any idea what it was. Viola shook her head. "Something's not right." Though her voice was low it carried through the room like a shrill whistle.

Everyone in the room paused at the sound of her voice. Despite the joyful moment before, each of them had their own thoughts. Gilliam didn't say anything, he turned his head towards the window, letting his gaze search for an as yet unseen Berek. Galin stroked his beard, "Aye lass, even in jest a foul stench is in the air."

Viola paused in thought, Janessa's mind was racing. Before she could think through their options she spoke. "If you need help count us in." A sharp poke in her ribs and hiss from behind caused the Halfling to turn around to glare at Viola. Even through her annoyance, Janessa could see something was different about her friend. A quick glance confirmed the others hadn't noticed the sudden change in Viola, but when she turned back the mage's face was its usual calmness. "It's the least we can do." Janessa emphasized the "we" and gave Viola a glance, it was something they had to do.

Gilliam turned back from the window, his face full of concern with any casual thought turning into a gruesome one. He was sure where they'd find Berek, he was just as certain at the chances he and Galin had of pulling off the idea they were sharing. A cleric and Dwarf, weren't a very imposing pairing. Yes, it would be better, easier as a matter of fact, if they had help from their friends. But they were only children, treasure was one thing, this was another entity.

To Gilliam's relief, Galin felt the same way. "We appreciate the offer lass," he did notice the change that came over Viola's face and his fear of magic users began to surface, "but this is different than a walk through a tunnel."

Gilliam spoke when Janessa was about to protest. "We appreciate you're willing to help us, but this isn't your fight."

"So tell me Sir Dwarf, was that your fight last night?" Viola's own voice startled her. She'd been fighting to break through the thick haze that invaded her mind and finally succeeded.

Galin eyed her for a moment; one needn't be a magic user to see a battle of some sort being waged within the young woman. After a moment's pause, he turned to Gilliam with a shrug. "She has a point, lad."

What ever happened to Dwarves being stubborn? Gilliam wondered, trying to think of a way out of their mess. "Galin is over a hundred years old. He and I have led full lives." His voice lowered as he continued, "Yours have only just begun." Gilliam noticed a fire in Janessa's eyes, she would keep arguing to go but Viola? He wasn't sure what he saw in her eyes, he was certain she lacked the passion of her friend on that topic. But, he reminded himself, she already dealt with her fear and that made her stronger. They all had. Perhaps the strain had been too much for her. That thought caused him to sympathize with her, his own resolve had faltered more than once over the last few days.

As Gilliam expected, Janessa was about to say something, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Viola hadn't even noticed her arm moved until she felt the soft fabric of Janessa's tunic. "Our lives may have just begun, but we are more than capable. You... both of you can attest to that." She lowered her eyes in shame; even Janessa's warm smile didn't make her feel better. When Viola continued the Halfling's smile faded, breaking her heart. "But I am of little use to you at this time."

It took a moment for the reasoning to come to Janessa. Viola hadn't studied her spell book! That was why she seemed so different! In all of the excitement with the treasure and Berek's departure, Viola didn't have a chance to refresh the spells in her memory. It surprised Janessa that she hadn't noticed that fact before then, scolding herself for her carelessness.

Janessa patted Viola's hand holding her shoulder. "When you're ready meet us at..." She paused, turning to their companions. "Where are we going?"

Galin's beard bristled, Halflings were never ones to take a polite brush off. "We're going to Renard's camp! You're staying here!"

Janessa turned to Viola smiling, "Meet us at Renard's camp when you're ready."

Galin swore at himself, how could she be such a dunderhead? "Now look--"

"We'd be happy to have you with us when you're ready." Gilliam shot Galin a look saying he knew what he was doing. The Dwarf remained silent, he'd gotten into this because of a friend and now he was helpless due to that same friendship. For a moment he wondered if his cousins, the Mountain Dwarves, had the right idea after all.

While his Dwarven friend fumed, Gilliam continued. He knew it'd take Viola a couple hours to memorize the needed spells, by that time they'd either be returning with Berek or not at all. He sensed there was something more on Viola's mind. "I suggest you two come together, that way we'll have an unexpected surprise for Renard."

Janessa wrinkled her nose, "I suppose, but you'll need me to help you sneak into the camp. No offense but neither of you would make good thieves."

Though he didn't smile, Gilliam did look at Galin with a raised eyebrow which the Dwarf understood. In answer Galin shook his head, "Never been a Dwarf nimble enough for such a trade." He didn't mention how Dwarves viewed thieves, those of his kind that tried their hand at it rarely got the chance to try it a second time. "She does have a point lad, and we'd best hurry."

Gilliam nodded his agreement then turned to Janessa, "Very well, you can come. But," he added when she let out a squeak of joy, "stay out of any fighting that may occur. We'll have our hands full and will have no time to watch for you."

The Halfling's face twisted as if she bit into something sour at hearing the instructions. She wanted to scream "I can take care of myself!" but somehow found the inner strength to remain quiet. She'd show them, when they'd need help she'd be there to rescue them.

Confident he made his point, Gilliam turned his attention to Viola. When dealing with the mage his tone softened, "Join us when you're ready. We'll be waiting." With everything settled as close to his liking as possible, he stepped through the door when Viola opened it and was followed by Galin and Janessa.

Janessa stopped partway out the door and looked at her friend. The sincerity in Janessa's face caused Viola's heart to ache. "Don't be too long, I don't know if..." She trailed off, unable to say more.

Viola smiled at her friend, "It'll be alright. It won't take me long and then we can enjoy our fortune." Janessa smiled up at her then followed the others. Viola remained holding the open door, alone with her thoughts. She felt ashamed for lying to her best friend, the one person she'd always been able to rely on being at her side. She told herself she hadn't lied, she allowed Janessa to come to her own conclusions. After all, she did have to study her spell book, but not to refresh any of the spells she used the previous night. It was a common belief that a mage's spells were gone from their memory at the end of each day. That is only a half truth as the spells one commits to memory stay with them until they're cast and burned from their mind. But now that she was alone, the question bothering her was why did she lie? A shiver overtook her as she closed the door, was she afraid of the answer?

Viola rubbed her arms to try to warm them after the shiver sent chills through her. "You did well child."

The sound of Mern's voice should have startled her, but for some unexplained reason it didn't. Viola turned to the source and spoke when her eyes settled on Mern. "I don't understand." It wasn't meant as a question but it could've been one. She felt strange, like she didn't belong there, in that town, that room, or that body. The oppressive feeling responsible for her hesitation a few minutes earlier never left, it intensified. It wasn't painful or terrifying, but it was strong enough to make her uncomfortable. Viola felt like she was in a closed room on the muggiest day of the year.

Mern sat in the lone chair in the room; his hair was uncombed but still made him appear relaxed, as if he was asleep. Only the ferocity pouring from his eyes gave away the fire burning inside of him. "You will, child. You've been chosen."

Mern's words bore into her. "Chosen? What could I possibly be chosen for?"

Mern smiled, "All in due time, child. First things first, you agreed for me to be your master. Is that not correct?" Viola nodded. "Good, in doing so you agreed to learn as I see fit." Mern paused a moment to give her time to understand what he was saying. When he was satisfied enough time passed he continued. "Your friends are a distraction--"

"But Janessa..." Viola began to protest but fell silent after one look from the old mage.

"She is the worst of the lot." Mern steepled his fingers, resting them against his lips. He remained silent for several long moments until Viola feared he fell asleep. That notion was disproved by his eyes. They moved about in their sockets, focusing on objects in the room but they were seeing so much more. "It is settled then." He stood and made his way for the door. The speed with which he moved surprised her and she backed away from the door and out of his way. "I suggest you gather what items you can carry."

"What do you mean? I'm not going anywhere." Viola tried to sound defiant and strong but her voice was shaky at best.

Mern stopped as he was about to open the door and turned to face her. His eyes were no longer intense, but were soft and loving. "I know you're confused, child, but you must trust me. If you act fast enough you may still save your friends."

His remarks struck Viola as hard as any physical blow. "I thought they were going into danger." Her voice was low as she let her mind wonder over the possibilities. She looked up, her eyes wide with hope. "With your help--"

"We will do nothing!" Mern turned on her with such savagery that she struggled to avoid tripping over her own robes. As quick as that, Mern was back to his usual friendly self. "My dear, you must realize the gravity of the situation. If we leave to help your friends now you will sacrifice them in the future."

Viola watched Mern for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. If he was telling her the truth, and she was sure he was, then Janessa and the others would be safe for now. She didn't like the possible repercussions of either decision. No matter her choice, Viola was allowing them to face peril while she studied and grew in power. Though she fought it, it was a decision that was made the previous day. Glancing around at the room; her eyes paused where Janessa kept her things. Her decision final, she nodded. "I'm ready; I just need a moment to write them a note."

Mern was about to say something but stopped himself. He watched from the doorway as Viola sat at the table and penned her goodbye. He was surprised it only took her a couple of minutes to write it, he thought such a thing would've taken much longer, considering how emotional his apprentice was. He watched her sprinkle sand over the paper to dry the ink before coming over to stand next to him. Her eyes were rimmed red from tears, but with a determined glow emanating from them. When she nodded he smiled at her, speaking a long, complicated spell. The words of magic wrapped around them in a tight embrace.

To Viola it felt as though she would be crushed but the searing pain never came and in an instant the walls around them twisted and swirled together until they were a whirlpool of color. So this is what the traveling spell is supposed to be like, she thought to herself as they disappeared from her and Janessa's room. The room they had been standing in remained intact as if nothing had happened, with Viola's books and scrolls missing, with a single note in their place.

Chapter 22

"See, old man Winston wasn't too angry. He only charged you each for half a room." Janessa couldn't help smiling at her two companions as they made their way through the empty streets of Hope. Both Galin and Gilliam found it curious how a city with a company the size of Renard's next to it wasn't yet awake. Janessa did her best to explain it, in the end it came down to two choices, either the people of Hope were lazy or they were tired of spending their hard earned money. Janessa believed it a little of both, Gilliam and Galin exchanged glances at her revelation. If a town "forgot" about a treasure underneath their feet then the choice seemed clear.

As they walked, Janessa was quick to point out certain local landmarks and their significance. While she seemed jovial, Galin could see she was worried. They each were for different reasons and they each dealt with it in their own way. Gilliam was focused on the task at hand; he acknowledged Janessa and the Halfling let it go at that. Janessa continued to talk about the city of Hope to keep hers, and their, spirits up. She wasn't as concerned for Berek as she was for Viola, but neither of her companions would've guessed it. Galin was more worried about what could, or would, happen if they tried to pawn off any of the discovered treasure. He was concerned about Berek, but a lot of good it'd do him if they got arrested if someone recognized the items. Though that threat was minimal, he couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that kept creeping into his thoughts.

"...this is the guard shack, but then you already knew that. Oh, good morning Sherriff Tavers." Janessa brought them to a stop by the city gate where anyone entering, or leaving, were questioned. Sometimes politely.

On any other day Sherriff Tavers wouldn't have paid the Halfling more than a casual glance. He knew she was a thief, the whole city knew it, but despite his best efforts he was never able to catch her in the act. The fact she had two intense looking men with her, one of them a Dwarf, sent up a flag. "Hold, Janessa." He stepped over eyeing the two for a moment. "And who might you be?"

The hair on Galin's neck began rising while he watched the Sherriff. Tavers wasn't much taller than the Dwarf but he had a good seventy to eighty pounds on Galin. "We might be merchants, why is that a concern of yours on this early morning?" He didn't like the Sherriff; men like Tavers were fat and lazy. They enjoyed bullying people around to make themselves feel strong. That thought alone turned Galin's stomach foul.

Sherriff Tavers locked his gaze on the Dwarf. He hated Dwarves after being taunted about having mixed blood his entire life due to his short and stocky stature. "In this town everything concerns me." Tavers stepped closer to Galin trying to intimidate him with his authority. "If you be a merchant, where's your pass?"

Galin's face flushed in anger, a pass! A PASS! He never felt so insulted in his life. In Dwarven society the rogues and trash of society were issued passes by the Thanes. Those passes allowed them free passage throughout the Kingdom. The thought behind it being those with a pass could be observed. It would then be easier to reign in the behavior of the undesirables. Everyone knew it was a failure as it led to countless brawls and more deaths than simple banishment would have, but some Thanes still held true to the archaic system, though they were few and far between.

Galin prepared to lash out with a torrent of curses when a strong hand clasped his shoulder. He forced his anger down, fighting to regain his composure. With his friend calm, for the moment at least, Gilliam smiled at the Sherriff.

"Forgive my friend, he doesn't take ignorance well." Tavers turned to face him, the Sherriff's face was as red as Galin's was a moment earlier, but Gilliam continued without hesitation. "He's a merchant with Renard's Company and does not require a pass."

Sherriff Tavers watched the human with care. Just who did he think he was? Nobody talks to me like that! "I suppose you are his business partner?" Tavers emphasized the word to try to send the Dwarf into a rage. He didn't think they were involved in anything illegal, he simply decided not to like them and wanted to make them pay for it.

To Tavers' disappointment, Galin remained calm and Gilliam continued to smile. "No sir, I am a Cleric of Fallor. Of course, if you doubt my word we could always take it up with the local Magistrate... if you wish."

The kiss of death, so to speak, for anyone in a public position was to challenge the word of a cleric before the Magistrate. Even those like Tavers, who had no use for clerics and their Gods, knew better than to challenge them over something as trivial as their current situation was.

Tavers clenched his jaw, turning to Janessa when she giggled. Cowed but furious he vented, "They're your responsibility." He then turned and stalked back into the guard house where he mulled over ways to arrest all three for ruining his morning.

Once the three companions left the safety of the walled city, their demeanor changed. Both Gilliam and Galin were alert, their hands rested on their weapons as they expected to be attacked at any moment. Janessa became silent as she studied every bush and tree listening for any sound that would give away an ambush. She wasn't sure why, but she felt safer outside the city walls.

*****

It was an offer Renard would be a fool to refuse, as the gems before him were worth more than a hundred Bereks and Nursk Brothers, but there was something more. Renard hadn't risen to his current status by believing everything shown to him. There were cities where he was welcomed like a king by the people. They flocked to fill his coffers with gold and silver and their women paid handsomely for the company of his fighters. He was never afraid to take a risk before, that concerned him the most about the offers he was being presented with. There was no risk involved. Why did he hesitate? Was it too easy? Was Berek trying to make a fool out of him? Those thoughts and more flowed through Renard's mind as he gazed down at the handful of gems Berek put on his desk. As his mind went over the possibilities, his eyes sought out Berek's. Through all of their years together he was certain the young fighter hadn't lied to him, concealed things yes, but never lied. Any hint of what the fighter was thinking remained hidden behind the unreadable mask that was his face.

Renard spoke, but it wasn't what Berek expected. "We have a deal then?" Berek's mouth opened in astonishment but he managed to regain his composure before his surprise became too evident. Fech wasn't as gifted in subtlety, allowing a croak to escape from his throat. Renard silenced his pet with a quick look then smiled at Berek. "I've thought about killing you many times over the years, Berek." He glanced at the gems and smiled. "Now, I'm glad I didn't."

"Don't you mean you failed?" Berek won everything he dreamed of for years, but he expected more. He just wasn't sure what.

Renard let out a laugh, a joyful one that sent shivers through Berek's body. "I wasn't the one that failed. If I wanted you dead, truly dead, it would've been done. No, I look on those attempts as tests."

"Tests?" Berek eyed Renard.

"To strengthen a blade it must be forged. Correct?" Renard sat in his plush chair as he continued talking. "You've grown very strong. I dare say much stronger than I ever thought possible. Few men could've defeated the Nursk Brothers as you did, an impressive feat even with that cleric's help."

Renard doesn't know about Galin! The realization exploded through Berek's mind but he was careful not to let it show. So that's why he agreed so easily. He's scared of me. Berek's mind raced with the newest bit of reasoning.

"As it is, I could use a man of your talents." At first Berek thought he didn't hear him right, allowing his quizzical thinking to show as a facial expression. Seeing Berek's face contort made Renard smile. "We hate each other, that is a fact of life, but it doesn't mean we can't work together. You not only managed to free yourself from servitude, but you've also created an opening for a bodyguard."

Berek stared at him thinking the man was out of his mind. It was a well known fact that Berek would like nothing more than to stick his sword into Renard's heart. Why would he even think of me as a bodyguard? Berek never trusted the man, and now he trusted him even less while he tried to figure out what kind of game Renard was playing.

Sensing his former fighter's apprehension, Renard's smile faded and he crossed his arms over his chest. "My offer's on the table. Take it or leave it, I want your answer now."

Berek wanted to think it through, to ask Galin and Gilliam what they thought. Between the three of them he was sure they would've found any hidden agenda. As it was, he stood alone and off balance from having his freedom given to him. After a brief pause he shook his head no.

Renard pursed his lips in disappointment then shrugged. "Very well. Here's your receipt," he handed over the bill of sale for Berek with his signature on it, "see Madam Fleir to have your brand removed."

Without another wasted moment Renard scooped up the gems and dropped them into a lock box. Berek stopped at the tent opening and glanced back. Renard busied himself with planning that day's fights, making Berek appear forgotten. When he turned back around his eyes met Fech's, the anger glowing in the gargoyle's eyes burned into Berek as he strode out of the tent.

Fech watched him go with great reluctance and worried about his master. For the second time in two days, Renard allowed a dangerous individual to leave his camp without much of a fight, and as before, it didn't sit well with the Gargoyle. Being so wrapped in his thoughts caused Fech to jump at the sound of Renard's voice.

"Relax Fech, all is not yet over." The gargoyle glanced at his master and smirked as much as his kind was capable of. Renard hadn't moved aside from checking a list of names for that evening's fights. Fech's master had a plan in mind and his blood began boiling with anticipation.

*****

The air outside the tent smelled different, sweeter perhaps? Berek couldn't put his finger on what was so different about it as he made his way through the camp. He knew the way to Madam Fleir's by heart. She always set her tent up in the same location wherever the company traveled. A likable middle aged woman that served as a nurse under Renard long before any clerics began to travel with them, Madam Fleir also served as mother and often lover to those in camp that felt the need and didn't want to pay for it.

The latter option never ceased to amaze Berek, he always found her charming but on the plain side. He assumed it was due to his upbringing, the men in his family married only the most beautiful women to add to their status. Shaking his head, he turned left at a fork in the path, status symbols did him a world of good where he found himself.

A few more steps brought him to the open pavilion where madam Fleir dealt with her patients. Ten cots were set up with various buckets beside them filled with water, purifying agents, and anything else the patient may need. The pavilion was empty at the moment, but Berek knew from experience it would be full by nightfall. In many ways he thought it resembled a battlefield hospital. He wondered how well it would function under those conditions should the need arise. Still, it wasn't something he had to worry about after that morning. The thought added a spring to his step as he made his way towards the front of the tent and the makeshift hospital housed there.

When he was about to knock on the wooden door post to announce his presence a voice called out." Come in Berek, come in!"

He paused for a moment in bewilderment until realizing she probably saw him approaching. With a quick flick of his wrist, Berek opened the tent flap and stepped inside. The smell of perfume and scented oils filled his nose, but not in a choking manner. He was pleased to note it wasn't very strong at all. A nice change from some of the private tents he visited with a woman living there. For the most part, they never seemed able to drown out whatever smell that displeased them.

It only took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness after walking through the morning sun. "Madam Fleir, I'm sorry to disturb you but Renard sent me to have my brand removed."

"Ah Berek, so nice to see you again." The woman stood from her desk and walked over to him. Her smile was warm and inviting as she clasped his hands. "I'm so happy to hear that my boy. You deserve to get out of this rat hole more than any other, I should think." Madam Fleir stepped back from Berek and looked him up and down. "And not the worse for wear I see. Good, very good. I trust you have the bill of sale? Wouldn't want to upset Renard."

Berek handed the receipt to her so she could double check everything, for if she unbranded someone that wasn't to be set free then she'd take their place. Tidbits of knowledge like that often made Berek wonder why anyone would agree to work under Renard's watchful eyes. Berek waited while she read over the receipt, amazed she didn't look like any of her forty-eight years. He wasn't sure if it was the lighting or some spell in the air, but he found himself being drawn to her. The fact she still wore her night gown allowing one to see through didn't help. Berek's jaw muscles tightened as he fought for control, he'd only been with a couple of women before and those urges threatened to overpower him.

Madam Fleir finished checking the receipt and handed it back to Berek. "There you go, everything's in order. I need you to take off your clothes so that we may begin." Berek's face went pale, an action that brought a laugh from the nurse. "Don't worry my boy; it's nothing I haven't seen before." She stepped closer smiling, "You know another way to take a mineral bath? It's the only thing that'll remove your brand. That's a good boy." She gave him a nod and turned away as he began to pull off his tunic.

The only thought able to find its way into his mind was she bewitched me. Never before did feelings like those he was suffering from course through his body. The more he fought against the building urge the weaker he began to feel.

Chapter 23

The sudden feeling of weightlessness threatened to make Viola panic as it worked to overwhelm her. "Concentrate. Focus on the vision within your mind." The voice was gentle and forceful at the same time. Viola knew it belonged to Mern but the last thing she remembered him saying was an incantation. She wasn't able to understand the words he used, so advanced that the words befuddled her mind but she saw an image in her thoughts. Very small, the image resembled an island in a sea of swirling black colors. Each ring around the island was darker then the previous, each devoid of something specific. Love, fear, warmth, cold were all drained from her while she floated there, powerless to stop herself or to make herself continue on.

The panic threatened to seize hold of her once more, she never felt so helpless in her entire life. "I can't!" She cried out into the expanse, her voice was swallowed by one of the dark pools.

"You must. Concentrate or you shall remain here for eternity." Though the voice was gentle she knew it would abandon her to float among the voids until time itself ran out. "Open your eyes and concentrate. Reach for it."

Open her eyes? The thought never occurred to her because she thought they were open! Everything appeared so vivid before her that Viola tried to close her eyes, to shut out the terrible sight of nothingness before her. "I can't!"

"You must."

The finality of those words struck her deep down; in a place she didn't know existed. There a fire burned bright and fierce attempting to drive the fear and darkness away by its intensity alone. From that spark she found the strength to take control, if not of her surroundings then of herself. With torturous effort she fought back her fears, fought back the doubt and the helplessness that gave strength to the darkness until she forced her eyes open. While opening her eyes a sliver at first, she forced them open the rest of the way upon seeing the brightness waiting for her.

The ever darkening bands surrounding her and the island were replaced with glorious, multicolored light. Viola felt the warmth and love return to her as well as fear and cold. Together, they gave her the strength to win against the fear and raise her hands towards the sliver of an island that was so far away but was now within reach. With her mind now clear and focused, Viola concentrated on the island as she'd been instructed.

The far off vision became solid rock beneath Viola's feet and the vibrant colors that surrounded her were replaced by a clear night sky, though the stars above were strange to her. The ground that appeared green, lush, and inviting was now gray dirt and blackened rock. As Viola took her first breath, she expected it to be cold and still but instead it filled her with an intense, vigorous energy. Curious, Viola bent to pick up a stone to examine it closer. The sudden shock it sent through her was pleasant, like a warm tingle that made her feel alive.

"I didn't think you'd succeed. For a moment I thought I'd been mistaken." Viola turned to the familiar voice. She failed to notice her Master standing a few feet away with his back to her, and his hands clasped behind his back. Without giving her a chance to respond he continued, turning to face her with a proud smile on his face. "I'm glad to see I was mistaken."

Viola felt herself flush at the pride flowing from the old mage and regained her composure. "What is this place?"

Mern smiled, "Child, you are only the second mortal to set foot here. Welcome to the birth and death of the universe. Welcome, to the Dragon's Graveyard."

Viola stood silent for a moment, she had so much happen to her in the last few minutes that it was difficult for her to understand it all. "The Dragon's Graveyard?" She repeated with a chill while looking around. For the first time she noticed the skeletons, some as small as a house cat and others standing as tall as mountains. "But... I don't feel anything evil or sinister."

Mern burst into laughter, "And you never will, child. This is the place the Gods created for dragons to go when they die. Their power and blood are absorbed to be reused to continue the growth of every living being on our world."

"Then the... barrier..."

Mern nodded at her sudden understanding, "Is the defense of this plain against mortals. None may pass through it unless they master their own short comings and fears. Countless mages and sorcerers have tried, only to become lost in the blackness of their own doubts and fears."

Viola shivered as a chill shot up the length of her back. She nearly became lost due to her own weakness. If she hadn't had help... She bowed to Mern. Viola owed him more than she could ever say. "Thank you master, without your aide I would be lost."

Mern waved his hand, dismissing her gratitude. "Nonsense child. More powerful wizards than myself have tried to come here. Like you, I had help, and like me you will bring another here when the time is right. Your gratitude is neither wanted nor needed, we are but the chosen."

Viola listened, careful not to take offense at having her gratitude pushed aside without a second thought. She listened intently to what he told her. "The chosen for what?"

Mern smiled at her, her curiosity and hunger for knowledge proved to him that he made the correct choice. "Your questions will be answered in due time. Until then you have much to learn."

She looked around at their surroundings, "This is where you're to train me then?"

Mern nodded, "This is the birthplace for everything, even magic. Here your spells will be enhanced a hundredfold. As you master the secrets of the Dragon's Graveyard you will be able to master magic you could only dream of. Then you'll become more powerful than any other."

Viola's eyes sparkled at his words; she was being offered everything she ever wanted. Somewhere in her heart she felt a pang of concern for Janessa and the others.

Sensing her thoughts Mern nodded, "Yes, you'll save your friends and they will honor you for it." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Have no fear child, time has little meaning here. For everyday spent here time moves only an hour in our world. You'll not be gone from them for long." Seeing his apprentice's dark thoughts disappear Mern continued, "Shall we begin?" Not waiting for an answer he conjured a mystical beast from another dimension. "Defend yourself."

*****

The minutes seemed like hours as Fech sat waiting. For a gargoyle, it was strange behavior as they were known to sit motionless for days at a time while they waited for prey to pass within striking distance. Had others of his kind been present they would've thought him a disgrace, centuries of skill and cunning became polluted by being around a human for his entire life. His own kind would have attacked and destroyed him for being weak long before then had he come across any of his brethren.

All of that held no meaning to him, Fech was and always will be Renard's pet. No amount of bestial grumbling from his natural senses would change that. As a result of his loyalty he learned the ability to be eager, to crave action be it rending a deer or a human. He wanted to destroy something, someone. His body ached for the adrenaline such an attack would bring. If his target fought back, so much the better.

Those hungry thoughts kept him entertained while also feeding his appetite. He was so intent on his daydreaming that Renard's shuffling of parchment startled him out of his reverie. When Renard looked over out of curiosity, Fech looked away ashamed.

"Eager to get a move on, are you?" Renard's voice was hard despite the smile he wore. Fech lowered his head a little further but his master motioned for him to stop. "No need for that my pet. You'll have your chance after nightfall."

Hearing that Fech's mood improved, his master was being very gracious to him. Yes, at nightfall he would avenge his master. The gargoyle listened to every word while Renard gave him his instructions. It wouldn't be as much fun as he originally hoped, but then it would be a glorious massacre.

*****

"I tell you, I heard something."

"I tell you, we'll get there sometime next week if we keep stopping every time you hear a squirrel shit." Galin wasn't happy. For what had to be the hundredth time in the last hour, the companions paused to investigate a strange sound Janessa heard. So far they found nothing. "You're not an Elf, lass. You don't know the different sounds of the woods."

Janessa was indignant, it wasn't her fault Galin made enough noise to wake the dead. "And you do? Begging your pardon, but these ears make me the closest thing you have to an Elf." She motioned to her pointed ears, a trait she usually kept hidden by her hair, but due to the warm morning she pulled her hair back in a pony tail.

"If you were an Elf we'd be there by now." The Dwarf mumbled under his breath.

Before Janessa could respond Gilliam put himself between the two of them. "Enough both of you! This is no time to be acting like a pair of spoiled children." He turned to face Janessa, "You've been a great help, but I don't think there's an ambush waiting for us."

Janessa's face twisted into one of curiosity, "But if Berek was taken they'd be expecting us."

"Not you two, if they were expecting a rescue it'd be just me, remember?"

Galin's brow furrowed at first, then smoothed when he caught the cleric's thought. "Aye lad, they wouldn't know I joined you, and I doubt Janessa's even in their thoughts."

"Then what are we waiting for? C'mon we'd better hurry!" Janessa took off up the path towards Renard's company leaving the two to stare after her.

Galin shrugged, "I'll say this for Halflings, they sure have a lot of energy." The two followed after her, if they lost her she'd be in the middle of the camp before they reached it.

*****

Berek couldn't remember a morning being so warm during that time of year. He laid next to Madam Fleir, both of them were bathed in sweat and panted from their exertions. Now he understood what made her so inviting to the men. In the brief time he spent with her, the years seemed to melt off of her. Now, she looked and felt twenty years younger. Madam Fleir was a Nymph.

He wanted to stay with her, every part of him yearned to satisfy the craving he now felt in her presence. A sudden and powerful desire continued coursing through him to the point he felt he'd die without her touch. With a great deal of pain, he forced himself to sit up and reach for his leather breeches. Her hands rubbed his shoulders, trying to coax him back into her bed.

"Leaving so soon, my boy? We just got started." Her lips sent rivers of fire coursing over his skin when she kissed the back of his neck.

"I have to go... my friends are waiting." He forced the words out, each sounding like a frog's croak.

He could feel her smiling at him as he stood and pulled on his tunic. When he turned around, he couldn't help but marvel at her transformation. "You're a Nymph."

Madam Fleir smiled, her many years of life showed in her eyes. "I am. An Air Nymph to be exact." He looked at her for a moment in confusion having never heard of her kind. She nodded, understanding his thoughts. "I am the last of my people. Like my cousins, the energy of lovemaking keeps me alive." She lowered her gaze, "I'm sorry I used my powers to persuade you. I've watched you for so long..." She trailed off unable to finish her sentence.

He understood, she was in love with him, somehow he'd drawn her to him. He always felt a pull from her, as if he was being drawn in like a moth to a flame, but he never thought he had the same effect on her.

Again she nodded, "I never used it on you before, not fully. I only did so now... so that you wouldn't leave without me."

Berek remained silent for a long moment unsure of what to say or do. Had he been drawn to her before out of his own love? He wasn't sure, but how could he refuse her if she wanted to leave with him? He cursed his luck; somehow he always faced choices like those. "Won't Renard be angry with you?" It was all he could think to ask.

Fleir smiled at him, "He could do no more harm to me than he could the wind." Her smiled faded somewhat, "But he may come after you."

Wasn't that how it always worked? He thought to himself. "I'm expecting him to." That was all Fleir needed to hear, she couldn't allow anything to happen to Berek after capturing him. Fleir leapt to her feet, her naked body covered by leather armor and a traveling cloak in an instant through the use of her magic.

Berek was impressed, "Nice trick, Madam."

Fleir beamed, taking his arm, "It comes in handy." She took a couple steps with him then leaned close to whisper in his ear. "Don't call me Madam anymore. That's for old ladies."

Berek watched her while opening the tent flap. Most of her face was hidden by the hood of her cloak. "How old are you anyway?"

"Old enough to know better then to answer that." She glanced around them to ensure no one saw them. "We'd better hurry before someone comes to see 'Madam Fleir'." Hastened by her sense of urgency, Berek led the way towards Main Street. With any luck they'd be back in Hope within the hour.

Chapter 24

The group stopped, hidden by the thick brush and trees they watched the camp as the people hurried about their daily business. Young boys gathered wood while their mothers or fathers bent over the soon to be cook fires, cleaning out the ash and debris to make room for fresh wood. It was a lazy morning, evidenced by most of the merchants remaining closed. They were either sold out of items or made enough that it didn't bother them to start slow on their last day there. Galin commented that was unusual for any vendor; but it did indeed seem the most likely scenario.

The Dwarf's uneasiness settled on Gilliam's planning. Were they expected? Had Renard already captured and killed Berek? Several more thoughts went through Gilliam's mind but he dismissed them. If his nephew was dead they could be dooming themselves. No, somehow he knew Berek was alive. He had to be, after everything they'd gone through Gilliam refused to give up hope. A silent prayer to Fallor helped ease his nerves.

Their plan had changed enroute, feeling that sneaking into the compound would be next to impossible, they agreed it was better to send in a scout. Janessa volunteered before Gilliam could finish his sentence. She shot through the knee high grass easier than the most graceful of nature's beasts.

Gilliam found a spot beneath a willow tree that would keep them hidden and sat down. Galin joined him and they both kept their eyes on the field that swallowed their companion. Galin pulled out his old weathered knife and inspected it for any chips in the blade. Satisfied there were no imperfections, he resheathed it and leaned against the tree. Gilliam watched the Dwarf with mild curiosity until he couldn't help but ask what was on his mind. "How do you do it?"

Galin raised an eyebrow, "Do what?"

"When everything's calm you seem anxious and agitated but when danger is about to welcome us you're calm."

Galin smiled. There was no threat of ambush where they stood. If there was they'd already be dead. "Long years campaigning, lad."

Gilliam nodded, "Until last night I always thought of you as a merchant."

"None of us are what we seem." Galin pulled his knife back out and began whittling on a piece of wood he carried with him.

"So I've learned." Gilliam raised his gaze to the trees above them then towards the camp. "Is it always like this before?"

Galin nodded as he sliced off a small piece of wood, a decorative cut Gilliam thought. "Always. Such is the life of a soldier wandering or otherwise. Endless moments of boredom..."

"And extreme moments of terror." Gilliam finished the sentence. He heard the same phrase from former soldiers and wandering swords for hire but he never understood what they meant until that moment.

Next to him Galin nodded, shaving off a long piece of wood. "Aye lad."

*****

The boredom of her companions was the farthest thing from Janessa's mind as she wandered through Main Street. She assumed Galin and Gilliam were having the time of their lives while she was forced to walk through a deserted market place. Most of the shops were being packed by their proprietors as they readied themselves for the inevitable move the next morning. In the best traditions of Halflings, Janessa worked hard to turn the current climate to her favor. As such, a few passersby were relieved of their coin purses or some piece of jewelry they wouldn't miss for some time.

"I bet Galin and Gilliam are having loads of fun hiding in the woods while I trudge around here." Janessa couldn't help but pout, she felt as though she cheated herself out of a grand adventure. A strange sound came from behind one of the empty stalls. Curious, she was there to scout after all, Janessa made her way between the makeshift structure and a large tree stump that was all that remained of the tree used to build the stall and its neighbor a few days earlier.

Behind the stalls were empty lots where a pair of tents once stood. She stopped at the edge of the wall and glanced around. Whatever made the strange thunking sound was nowhere in sight. She knew she should've felt relieved, but something warned her to stay tight against the wall. True to her race, Janessa trusted her instincts and clung to the wall like a mouse hiding from a predator.

Above her, taloned feet capable of digging and ripping into stone flexed, leaving deep grooves in the wooden ceiling. Fech was busy finishing his early morning catch, an opossum that dared to stray from its den in the late morning sun. Humans would've thought it rabid, but the fact it tried to run when it saw its death coming had proven otherwise to the gargoyle.

Fech was many things his fellow gargoyles weren't. He was loyal to humans, allowed himself to be fed by the human's hand, and worst of all, he obeyed orders given to him by a human.

While the first two were truthful, the later was only a half truth. Yes, he took orders from Renard, but he didn't obey every one of them. He disobeyed several times before, following what he believed to be the correct course of action. Renard wasn't all knowing, he made mistakes despite his own brilliant mind. That morning Renard instructed his pet not to eat, he wanted him hungry for what needed to be done. To his credit, Fech did admit if he was ravenous he would be more vicious during an attack. But what his master didn't realize was it took energy to fly from one point to another. The entire assignment wouldn't work if Fech had to fight against a growling stomach as well as his targets.

He swallowed the last of the opossum and looked around for another morsel. Disappointed, and ironically, wishing for a stray Halfling, Fech spread his wings and leapt into the air with his powerful legs. His leathery wings filled with a small air thermal and he began his journey towards Hope. Before he felt the uplift of air he thought he heard a squeak below him. Believing it to be a lowly mouse, something no gargoyle would stoop low enough to eat; he didn't bother to look below him.

*****

The hand clasped itself over her mouth as another arm wrapped around her chest. The sudden pressure caused a squeak of protest to come from Janessa, but the gentle firmness of the pressure wasn't one of a threatening nature. A familiar voice whispering in her ear confirmed her feeling. "Easy, don't make a sound."

Janessa couldn't believe her luck! If she wasn't mistaken about whom the voice belonged to then everything became much easier for her. As the shape of the gargoyle grew smaller, the hands holding her loosened. Without restraint she spun around on the person she knew to be there.

"Berek! I knew it was you! Won't Galin and Gilliam be... oh, hello. I'm sorry, I didn't see you at first."

The Halfling's enthusiasm was contagious causing Berek to return Janessa's smile. "I'm sorry Fleir, this is my friend Janessa."

"Nice to meet you, Janessa." Fleir bowed her head at the introduction. She remembered hearing about a Halfling winning a handsome amount on Berek's fight the other night. "You've earned quite the reputation around here."

"Really?" Janessa beamed, "You'll have to tell me all about it."

Knowing what was coming Berek held up his hand to stop Janessa before she started. "Janessa... what are you doing here?"

Janessa forgot about having a reputation for the moment. "Rescuing you of course. Galin and Gilliam are waiting for me to meet them. I'm their scout."

Berek nodded with a smile, "I should've known." He glanced over his shoulder into Main Street but hardly anyone was out. "We'd better hurry. I don't like that Fech is out there somewhere."

Fleir nodded, she understood the danger he was in. She heard the stories of fighters being freed only to be hunted by the gargoyle. "We'd better make haste. He's got a good head start on us."

Berek bent over, picking up a handful of loose dirt as magical words flowed into his mind. Janessa began to ask a question but before she could get the words out he threw the dirt into the air in front of them while uttering a phrase. A purplish portal opened and he grabbed Janessa and Fleir before leaping into it. The portal closed as soon as they entered it, leaving no trace they had ever been there.

*****

The two companions sat under the willow tree watching the field for any signs of Janessa's return. She'd been gone for thirty minutes judging by the sun, more than enough to finish her task and return. Despite the reassurances of Galin, Gilliam was about to go after the Halfling when Galin grabbed his arm. "Fech is out."

Gilliam looked at the Dwarf for a moment then turned in time to see Fech angling away from them and towards Hope. "What's it mean?"

For the first time Galin was glad they decided to approach the camp from a different side, otherwise Fech would've seen them. "Berek's not dead. Renard likes to let Fech hunt." He paused for a moment. "My guess is he got away."

"You're always so melodramatic Galin." Startled by the voice both companions turned to see Berek, Janessa, and Fleir.

Galin regained his composure before Gilliam. "A bit thick on the entrance aren't you, lad?"

Janessa stood by Berek's side beaming, "That was fun, a much nicer trip than Viola's was." It was all she could do not to dance around. The leap into the portal hadn't been expected but the journey was worth it. It didn't matter who was casting the spells, she loved the sensation of being lifted and pulled by unseen hands.

Berek didn't hear Janessa as he eyed Galin then Gilliam. "You two look like a raiding party. Didn't know I was worth all that."

Gilliam recovered from the shock and in a handful of steps he reached Berek, embracing him. "Thought I lost you."

Berek returned the embrace and for the briefest of moments he looked every bit the young man he once was. Gilliam gathered himself and stepped back to examine his nephew. It only took a moment for him to notice the lack of bruises, and another to notice the third member of Berek's party. He couldn't help staring at the beautiful young woman standing off to the side. Her flowing red hair and soft features didn't belong to a person wearing the worn out tunic, breeches, and cloak. She showed no signs of living on the road as her dress did, but yet there was something about her that did.

The look in her eyes seemed familiar, though the nervousness in them made it difficult for him to be sure. "Forgive me madam. I wasn't aware my nephew traveled with such loveliness on his arm." Yes, that was it, he was sure of it. She was attached to Berek somehow, though when it came to women he knew less than nothing but he was certain she sought some form of approval.

The journey through the magical portal, though thrilling to some, had been extremely difficult on Fleir. Air Nymphs used a form of magic as old as the world itself. Like other Nymphs, they relied on nature's magic. They could hide in plain sight, summon other Nymphs if the need arose, but most of all they could transform into the air around them. Their preferred method of travel was to move through the air in gentleness that few, if any, could understand. Because of that and their gentle nature, mortal magic was crude and would transport them roughly and without mercy. Many of the natural magic users such as her people and dragons, never understood the need for other races to channel the magic through them instead of simply using it.

Fleir was never so happy to feel the unforgiving rock beneath her feet. But now she found herself preoccupied with her own situation. Certain the older human would've recognized her after the long hours they sometimes spent working together to heal the injuries from the pit fights, she remained quiet. Having not been noticed at first scared her, as if the mortal magic had torn her apart. After hearing Gilliam speak to her, she was certain she made the correct choice. Berek made her young and beautiful, more so than she'd been in centuries, he was indeed meant for her.

She bowed to Gilliam with a rare gracefulness, "I thank you sir, your compliments warm me more than you could possibly understand." Gilliam watched her with a confused eye while Galin snorted with laughter. Fleir smiled to herself, the Dwarf knew her but there was no harm in that. She had no secrets to hide. "But there is no need for the formalities Gilliam. We do know each other."

"We do?" The cleric realized he'd been right about her looking familiar but he still couldn't figure out from where.

She let out a chuckle as Berek clapped Gilliam on the shoulder. "Don't worry uncle, Fleir looked a lot older a couple of hours ago."

"Fleir? Madam Fleir? But she was my age."

Berek shrugged, "It's a long story, uncle."

"One that best be told elsewhere, lads. Forty silver says Fech is waiting for you somewhere between here and Hope and we'd best be ready."

Berek nodded, "We saw him leave the camp. Renard's going away present I'd wager."

Janessa fought against the chill that shot through her body. "He's disgusting. How can he eat like that?" The memory of him sitting above her eating would fill her dreams for days. If Berek hadn't grabbed her... she shook her head. It was better not to think about it. Fleir rested a comforting hand on Janessa's shoulder, the Halfling's fear came off her in waves.

"Gargoyles prefer blood, lass." Galin loosened his hammer from his belt, "Raw meat and blood to keep their senses sharp."

Fleir shot the Dwarf a warning look, she'd become protective of the Halfling since they first met a few minutes earlier. Galin paid her little attention. "He flew past us just before you arrived. Straight for Hope."

Berek nodded in thought, Renard and Fech were up to something. But what, he had no idea. It couldn't be a trap. They were all there except for... "Where's Viola?" It felt like a rock dropped into his stomach as soon as he asked the question.

Chapter 25

The blast obliterated the rock to Viola's right and the shards from it dug into her flesh. The pain shot through her arm, straining her concentration. The giant skeleton of what had once been a blue dragon, reared its head back in a howl that was closer to a laugh. Where the sound came from Viola could only guess, as everything but the dragons bones had turned to dust centuries earlier. If she had the time she would love to examine them and the source of the dragons lightning breath, but as she was under attack it was something that could wait for later.

Viola watched the dragon lower its head back into its natural attack position with its neck curved, as if it were a snake about to strike. Without hesitation she began the incantation she needed. The dragon skeleton opened its mouth and a powerful arc of lightning burst forth. The power and beauty would've overwhelmed her under normal circumstances but she was lost in concentration. As the arc neared her she cast the spell, creating an invisible, convex shield between her and the dragon.

Viola wanted to flinch, she wanted to take cover, but a voice in her mind urged her, ordered her to remain where she was and have faith in her magic. She obeyed and remained where she stood waiting for the explosion and pain every fiber of her mind knew was going to follow. Before her eyes, the lightning arc struck the field but there was no explosion. Instead of the two canceling each other out or dispersing the energy, as was common with the widely used concave shield spells, the arc formed a ball, or puddle, of energy in the center of the shield.

"Now close your hand and speak the command."

The familiar voice instructed her as though time wasn't a factor. Viola mirrored the calmness by following the instructions, raising her right arm, hand extended despite the pain, and spoke the magical command while closing her hand into a fist. She watched in amazement as the shield closed and tightened around the lightning until it was the size of a grapefruit. Viola raised her eyes to the empty sockets of the skeleton as she heard the voice once more.

"The final command is yours."

She smiled and spoke a single word. The orb of magic lightning streaked towards the giant skeleton. As if it could sense its coming demise a second time, the skeleton raised its head for another lighting arc, but as the lighting appeared in its mouth the orb struck. A brilliant white light covered the landscape when the lightning was released from its binding. The dragon skeleton let out a horrific roar that shook the ground Viola stood on before the bones exploded into hundreds of dust clouds that floated back to the ground.

"Well done apprentice, very well done." The voice and accompanying clapping caused Viola to turn towards Mern.

"Is this everything for the day then?" Viola's voice sounded hurt, she wanted to continue with her studies. She learned so much in the days since their arrival.

Mern watched her with a sense of pride he only felt for himself before then. Soon she would be ready, but not yet. She had much to learn before she was ready to face Fyrelynx. "Not quite child. You still must practice the spell until it's second nature. You hesitated, do that against a living dragon with a will of its own and it'll use your bones to pick its teeth." He saw her disappointment but it was replaced by a hunger few know or understand. "Again!" With a motion of Mern's arm, the dragon skeleton reassembled from the dust and debris and roared once more.

*****

Humans were such fools. They built walled cities to defend themselves from all sorts of thieves, bandits, and even armies. But not one, not a single one, was designed to defend against a winged enemy. Fech chuckled at the foolishness of the humans. Granted, a single gargoyle was no threat to a city, or even a town for that matter, but there have been numerous occurrences of clans of gargoyles banding together to attack human settlements. Granted it was done so in an effort to defend their own territory after having it violated by the presence of humans.

The threat still hung over the land, due in large part to dragons and their various offspring still populating the world. Just because humans hadn't seen any for nearly two hundred years, didn't mean they weren't there in hiding, waiting for their chance to attack and take back a world they felt was rightfully theirs. "It'd serve the humans right to have everything they worked for burned to the ground." Fech chuckled to himself. Yes humans were the biggest fools of them all.

His master couldn't be counted among the fools. No, Renard was wise, though not as smart as he led himself to believe. He played these other humans as fools. Mern and Berek hadn't bought their freedom; they purchased a guaranteed day to enter the Abyss. Having them both sharing the same friends only made it so much more delicious. Fech raised himself from his perch atop a building three streets away from the inn they shared and summoned his spell. At that moment Fech truly appreciated his master and the way his mind worked. A laugh began deep within him as the magic flowed throughout his body. Magic was an inborn ability all gargoyles had, but few ever reached the level Fech had.

At the completion of the spell a fireball streaked from Fech's hands and into the city. In its wake was a thick fog making visibility impossible from below the rooftops. From his vantage point, Fech watched the fireball explode into the floor where he was sure Berek and Mern were staying. The two would have to be close together, he was sure of that.

The moment the fireball made an opening large enough, Fech launched into the air and flew towards the building. Even above the thick smoke it was difficult to see at times, it all depended on how the wind was blowing. He hated fire, as do all gargoyles, but he wanted to see the carnage for himself. The magical fire had mostly burned itself out in the few seconds it took for him to land inside the opening.

Fech expected to find the charred bodies of the fighter and mage there, but instead of the sweet smell of death, his lungs filled with acrid smoke and other scents. The most prevalent of those belonged to the human mage Mern. So he had been there, Realizing he must've just missed him, Fech cursed himself for his bad timing. Irritated at having missed but elated the hunt would continue, the gargoyle turned to leave the carnage he created. There were other scents there, but he dared not breathe to deep or the smoke would irritate his lungs further. Fech leaped into the air and headed back towards his perch to wait for nightfall. The city would be on high alert and the chaos would prove interesting. He intended to watch the humans run about as though they could do something. Renard could wait; he needed to cheer himself up after missing his targets.

Fech's spirits did lift somewhat when he thought about what the rest of the afternoon would bring. He could hear the humans below him yelling at one another, but their voices didn't carry well enough for him to understand their meaning. Knowing humans below him were most likely scared and looking for a place to hide like rats brought a chuckle to the gargoyle as he neared his previous perch. He'd reach the safety of it before the smoke finished disappearing. Without warning, an arrow flew past his neck, missing by mere inches.

After spending his life among humans it was a shame Fech had such a low opinion of them. He couldn't be blamed for that though, it was an inherited trait among his kind. More the pity that neither he nor Renard thought of the possibility of being spotted from the ground. Fech believed he was hidden due to his inability to see the people below him. It never occurred to him they'd be able to see him against he bright afternoon sky.

There were only one or two arrows at first, but there would be more on the way. Furious, Fech let out a roar but it did little good, he could hear more of the city's soldiers on the way. What he thought to be a lazy day watching the people of Hope run around had turned into a fight for his life. Those pathetic humans were smarter than he thought.

Fech veered away from his destination and towards the thick forest surrounding the city. After the initial arrows he was pleased to note word of him hadn't spread to the outer wall as the guards he snuck past before were now shocked and frightened to see a man-sized creature flying over their heads. The surprise was so complete the gargoyle was out of range for a bow before someone thought to fire an arrow.

He was fleeing, but he knew he was safe outside the city walls. The humans cared little for the surrounding countryside. He wouldn't be able to go back into Hope again, there'd be more sentries on duty and he couldn't head back to the safety of Renard's camp until nightfall. Angry and tired, Fech spotted a thick grove of trees and settled down to rest, safely hidden from view. The day began with so much promise and potential. A low growl in his throat was the answer he felt summed it all up.

*****

The mayhem reached the wall of the city as word spread. Three of the companions heard the commotion as they approached the gates. "What's happened?" Gilliam asked the young man standing guard at the gate.

The guard nodded towards the heart of Hope. "A beast attacked one of the inns. A buncha folks were hurt. Damnest thing I ever did see."

Each of the companions felt fear and worry spread through them. Though they weren't very familiar with each other, they had developed a strong bond. Each one's thoughts were on the young mage that remained behind.

Galin muttered a silent oath as Fleir and Gilliam exchanged glances. Fleir joined them in what seemed like minutes before, but she felt their pain and grief. She hadn't yet met the mage they called Viola, but she imagined the girl could've protected herself against a gargoyle. Of all the mortal races, their magic was the least powerful. If the young lady had been caught unawares then perhaps, but it was still difficult to fall in with the others and their concerns. If only she could make them understand. She stepped forward, as though she floated on air. "Pardon me good sir, but were there any deaths?"

She could feel the intake of breath from each of her companions, it wasn't a question they wanted to ask but one they wanted answered. Fleir waited while the guard scratched his head. "To be honest miss, I don't rightly know. I've just been told the basics."

Fleir nodded but let her eyes settle on the guard's. "A friend of ours was staying at an inn. Could you tell us which one was attacked?"

The guard swallowed hard, he wasn't sure what was coming over him, but he fought against the urges this woman was pulling out of him. "No miss, I... I'm sorry... I don't know." He swallowed hard once more struggling with himself. "I just know there was an attack and I'm not to allow anyone into the city."

Fleir's expression changed from one of alluring to a gentle pout. "But our friend's in danger. Couldn't you... just this once..." She whispered the last part into his ear.

The feeling of her breath on his skin drove the man wild with passion but he remained focused enough on his duty that he was able to shake his head. "I... can't. Sherriff... Tavers... will hang me... by my toes."

Fleir smiled at him but before she could continue another voice approached. "What's going on here?" Galin and Gilliam exchanged glances; this wasn't going to be good.

Fleir stepped back from the guard smiling, "Nothing at all Sherriff. He was just complementing me. I do hope his duty shift is almost over."

Sherriff Tavers glanced at the young man then leered at Fleir. "He has four more hours, but I can help you with what you need."

Fleir turned her smile at the Sherriff alone. "Thank you, but I've already had a bath today." She winked at the young guard, "Maybe next time." With a flick of her hand her red hair was thrown over her shoulder exposing her silky neck to the guard then she walked away with her companions. It would prove an intense debate at the ale house between the guard and Sherriff Tavers over whether she had someone with her or not.

Once they were out of sight in the trees Galin let out a huff. "Nice try lass, looks like we won't get in that way."

Gilliam was puzzled, "How didn't Tavers notice us? I thought for sure he'd at least recognize one of us."

"He had more pressing matters on his mind." Galin glanced back towards the city, "Our suspicions were confirmed. It had to be Fech."

"But for what reason?" Gilliam's voice asked in a low tone.

Fleir stood silent a moment, she almost had the guard in her power but something stopped her. Any other time she would've enslaved him to her a hundred times over. Could her worst fear be coming true? Lost in her own thoughts she didn't hear what the others had been saying but the answer to everything was the same.

"Berek." Both men looked at her. She exchanged glances with each of them continuing. "He's been the answer all along. Renard's allowed others to win their freedom before--"

"\--And Fech always hunted them down for sport afterwards. But this time was different." Galin let the words trail off as he spoke them.

Gilliam looked at each of them in turn. "What? You two know something." He was sure he understood their line of thinking; he just couldn't tie it all together.

"Renard had Fech target you two, the gargoyle's been watching you." It all made sense to Fleir as she spoke, but what was it about Berek that was so special to Renard as to not attack him? Was it the same as it was for her?"

"He doesn't want him killed, but why?" Gilliam rubbed at his chin, the answer was within reach but he didn't know what to grab a hold of.

"Aye lad, looks like we need answers." Galin stroked his beard.

"But he doesn't know anything!" Gilliam threw his hands up in irritation. "We'll have to ask Renard ourselves." He hefted his mace and took a pair of steps before Fleir stepped in front of him to block his path.

"No, only Berek can confront him." A sudden fear surged through her, why did she say that and how would she know?

Gilliam eyed her for a moment. "I don't remember anyone putting you in charge, Fleir. He's my nephew."

"And he's my love. You think I'd want him injured?" She faltered, nearly taking a step backwards from the blow her admission had struck her, but she held her ground. Gilliam let out a breath, an Air Nymph in love, would wonders never cease.

"Either way we need to wait for Berek and Janessa." Galin sat down and leaned against a tree, "May as well be comfortable." In time the others followed Galin's lead though Fleir kept looking towards the city of Hope.

Chapter 26

Berek and Janessa stepped out of the magical portal to find themselves standing in the hallway outside their shared room. As soon as her feet touched the wooden floor, Janessa leapt for the door and threw it open.

"Viola! Are you--?" Her question was cut off as the outer wall of the room exploded in flames. As the fire spread throughout the room, Berek grabbed Janessa under her arms with one hand and pulled her from the room before the fire engulfed everything around them. He focused on the first place that came to mind and spoke a series of words Janessa never heard before. The two of them disappeared as the ceiling collapsed on the spot they'd been standing.

The one thing Janessa enjoyed above all else was to be magiked, to feel the power of the spell engulf her and take her wherever it wished. Few things were as thrilling as being levitated, or to feel one's body pulled and stretched as it traveled through a portal. Viola understood the playful side of the Halfling and indulged her as much as possible. But Viola wasn't with her, she'd been killed by the fireball. Janessa was sure of it. Without her anything magical lost all of its appeal.

A moment earlier she was ready to throw herself into the inferno that consumed her best friend. Now she felt cold earth beneath her feet as they appeared in the street outside the inn far enough back that no one would notice them but not more than twenty feet from the inn. They could see the fire as it burned out a hole where the room had been. More importantly, Berek spotted the one responsible. The others may not have noticed but he'd correct that even as Janessa struggled in his grip.

"Let... me... down!" Damn you Berek! Let go!" He kept his grip firm, knowing what she planned to do.

With Janessa held tight to him Berek grabbed the nearest of the city's guards holding a bow. "There!" He pointed at Fech's blurry silhouette through the smoke. "That monster did this! Destroy him!"

Under normal circumstances the guard would've dismissed Berek as drunk, but amidst the chaos he found himself staring at a large man-like shape with wings above them. "Dragon! Archers, fire!" Though the order was crisp and clear, few understood what he meant until they followed the path of his arrow as it sailed just wide of its mark. At the sound of the creature's furious yell others grabbed their bows but it was too late, their attacker moved out of range.

Frustrated, but still having a duty to perform, messengers were dispatched to the guard stations along the wall as others, along with citizens, formed a bucket brigade and fought against the fire which had begun to burn itself out.

As everyone talked about the return of the dragons and the dark magic that came from them, Berek took Janessa into a side alley and set her down on a weather beaten crate. He knelt beside her while trying to piece together what had happened.

"She never had a chance." Janessa began to sob, blaming herself. "I never should've left her. I could tell something was different today."

Berek decided to let her go. It'd be better for her to get out as much as possible. Something about that day was different, but what was it? The mood? The people? The weather? That was it, he realized. This was autumn but so far the day was unseasonably warm. It wasn't catastrophic but did it mean something? No, he shook his head, he was becoming paranoid.

But people seemed to be acting different. Renard acted irrationally by allowing Fech to attack in such a manner and Mern was... Mern was what exactly? Prophetic wasn't right, after all Berek went alone and he was still alive. As antagonizing as that old man could be, he almost seemed excited. In the time he'd known Mern, he never saw him excited about anything. What was he up to?

"She wanted to be a war mage, did you know that? She always talked about it but she thought she was too much of a bookworm. One time--"

"Janessa," He turned to face her, resting a hand over hers. "I don't think Viola is dead." Janessa raised her head but he quieted her with a motion of his other hand. "I don't know how, but I just have a feeling."

"Oh Berek that's wonderful! Wait until the others hear... What's wrong?"

It was amazing, he thought, all he ever wanted was his freedom. He never wanted to be any kind of leader and here he was, being just that. What a trickster fate could be. "I need you to tell the others what happened. I have something I have to do."

Janessa's face turned into a mask of solid resolve. "You're going after that dragon aren't you?"

Berek smiled as best he could, "That wasn't a dragon. They're far worse." he wondered to himself how he could be so confident in his last statement. He'd always been told dragons were myths.

To her credit Janessa understood and nodded her agreement. "Don't kill him."

Berek shook his head, "I only want to question him."

"Good." Janessa smiled wickedly, "When the time comes I want to do it. Viola would understand." She lowered her eyes to the ground as Berek rubbed her back, hoping he was right.

Berek stayed with her for another moment or two, she guessed it was to comfort her and make sure she understood what he wanted her to do. She didn't like it, but she understood. He was going after the creature that did this, to get revenge for her friend. He thought she'd only get in the way and, she admitted to herself, he was right. She could get them both killed before she was able to help.

In her heart Janessa knew Berek was right, but it didn't mean she had to like or accept it. She took several deep breaths before letting her eyes rest on the empty hole where her room had been. As dilapidated as that part of Hope was, the inn now stuck out like a sore thumb. With one final glance she turned away and ran through the streets as fast as her legs could carry her.

The Halfling made remarkable time, a fact she attributed to knowing the back alleys and half streets so well. She made such good time that she even surprised herself when she arrived at the main gate. She planned on using the chaos raging after the attack to slip out of the city unseen. Knowing the people of Hope to be cowards, Janessa planned to use that against them. She would've wagered anything that half the population would be hiding in their homes or taverns while the other half would be fleeing the city. Her surprise was so great that no one was trying to leave that she nearly walked into the backside of Sherriff Tavers. She sidestepped and crouched behind a barrel before he noticed her.

"What was it you thought you were doing Private Tawn?" Janessa hated the Sherriff's voice, she wondered why it hadn't bothered her before then. She did have to admit how someone so paunchy was in charge of young, fit men. Why did they follow him, she wondered while she listening for anything she could use.

"Nothing sir, just trying to offer my assistance." The young man had had a rough time of it. His face was still flushed, whether from embarrassment or frustration the Halfling couldn't tell.

"Nothing? You were ready to bed that woman, weren't you?" Tavers turned enough so Janessa could see his pig-like face, battle scared and intimidating as always. Now she understood why they followed him, though she preferred Berek by far.

The young guard known as Tawn cleared his throat, "With all due respect, you were as well. Sir." He added the final word a bit too hastily. The lust that burned for the strange woman a few minutes earlier made him bold, if dumber.

A back hand across the face was Tavers' reply. The next exchange was too low for her to hear but she caught the gist of it. The guard was on a slippery slope, as she heard the humans say from time to time. She waited for Tavers to leave, an action that only took a minute or so to happen. As she was about to step out from her hiding place, the sound of armored feet caused her to freeze where she was.

Three armored men passed by her barrel and took up positions by the gate. She strained to hear their conversation but it only lasted a few seconds before they settled into their positions, two inside the gate and two outside. Janessa cursed at her luck. In a few moments they'd close the gate for the night earlier than usual. The Magistrate must be expecting another assault, but what good would a closed gate do against something that could fly?

Janessa shook her head. There was very little sense in the world that day. She knew what she had to do and hoped she was fast enough. She took a deep breath then stepped out from behind the barrel and walked towards the two interior guards. "Hello there, mind if I pass through?"

The guard Tavers argued with stood off to the side and was the first to answer her. "Not bloody likely, I've had it with you women today. No one comes in, no one goes out."

The second guard raised his eyebrows at the tone in his fellow's voice, wondering what he missed earlier. He had little use for Halflings but if she wanted to leave what could it hurt? Good riddance.

"Why not? I haven't done anything wrong?" Janessa's voice took on a nasally tone.

"That we know of Halfling, go on home." Tawn wasn't in the mood to hear anything at that moment.

Janessa's attempts to be civil disappeared, "I can't, that monster destroyed the inn I was staying at and killed my friend. I'm hunting it."

As a rule, if a Halfling stated something of that nature they'd be laughed at but not that day. There was something in her eyes that told the guards she was telling them the truth. With a wave of his hand Tawn waved her through. "Good hunting, my lady."

Curious and surprised, Janessa glanced at both before she passed between them. "Thank you." She said to the young guard, despite his rank he was in charge of the detail.

He nodded in response then sounded the order, "Close the gates!" The pair of guards outside stepped past Janessa, reentering the city. She was certain then the Magistrate did expect another attack.

Janessa stopped when she heard the young guard. "Tell your friends I'm sorry." She turned around in confusion when the heavy wooden door was closed and barred from the inside. It dawned on her that the others, led by Fleir, tried to enter the city earlier. Janessa wondered what she should tell them.

*****

The companions remained outside the gates waiting for their friends when they heard the large wooden gate close against the stone wall. It sounded like a crack of lightning in the quiet forest. At hearing the sound, all three leapt to their feet, their eyes locked on the city of Hope and the tiny figure of a Halfling making her way down the beaten road. The look on her face sent shivers of fear up Gilliam's back. Surprised, he found Fleir's hand in his. It was cold and sweaty just like his own.

He was going to say something, but the look of worry on her face caused him to hesitate. Next to Berek, he was the one person that trusted her after spending so much time together patching up the wounded fighters. She taught him most of what he knew about herbology and battlefield medicine. That trust was shaken when she joined them not as the older madam, but as a youthful vixen that had given her heart away.

Gilliam knew there was some sort of magic in her change and that, he disliked and feared above all else. He was learning to adapt, and if Berek loved and trusted her then he'd find away. He squeezed her hand, a move that caused her to look at him. "He'll be fine. Remember how few times we had to stitch him?" He smiled as reasuredly as he could.

Fleir returned the smile, yes she remembered. Only twice did Berek come into the infirmary tent and that was for ointment treatments. But still, she feared for him. Nymphs, by their very nature, were tuned into all things living. When a creature died its energy was absorbed and used to continue the cycle. Air Nymphs could sense one's life force better than others. They were often sought out by grieving wives or husbands with a missing child or mate to learn if they should mourn. While she could sense the life of the world around her, she could only find faint trails left by Berek. Either he was being obscured by the powerful energy within him or he was dead. She refused to believe the latter, but the look on the Halfling's face was one of bad tiding.

After making sure no one was watching the Halfling, Fleir released Gilliam's hand and made a bird call other birds would envy. In a daze of sorts, Janessa didn't hear the whistle at first but on the third attempt she spotted her companions and trotted over, disappearing into the brush. Had anyone been watching her they would've lost sight of her at once.

Without thinking, Janessa stopped in front of Gilliam. She wiped her eyes before she looked up. "I think... Viola's dead. But... Berek said he didn't think so.

That confirmed what Fleir thought. Perhaps her powers weren't leaving her just yet. "And Berek?" She glanced at Galin when he spoke. Lost in their own emotions she and Gilliam forgot the Dwarf. He had his own bond of friendship with the fighter, one neither she nor Gilliam could ever share. She could see the same hurt and fear she felt in his eyes. Gilliam rested a hand on Galin's shoulder, a move the Dwarf didn't feel.

Janessa paused for a moment, then told them how they arrived just as the inn was attacked and how Berek saved them by magiking them to the street. There she stopped, ashamed that she let him go and fight her battle. Gilliam seemed to know her thoughts as he drew the unspoken conclusion. "He went after Fech."

Galin nodded, "Aye, that he did. He's got a deep sense of honor, that's for sure."

"He's arrogant, pig headed, and overconfident." Gilliam crossed his arms, just like me.

Galin nodded his agreement, "Aye, that's true, but not overconfident. He knows he can win."

Gilliam looked at the Dwarf as though he'd gone mad but Fleir nodded. "Remember? No stitches. He wouldn't jump into a fight he couldn't win." She felt a sense of pride that her love would be so brave and courageous. She was sure it was a trait common in humans.

"We can't let him... not alone." Janessa looked up at the three of them, tears streaked down her face. "He'll need us."

The companions stood silent for a moment considering their options. Janessa knew which direction Fech had flown off in, they could follow and with some luck find him. It took less than a second for Galin to make his choice. He stood, shifted his belt so that everything was in easy reach, and lifted his hammer. "Point the way lass."

Janessa looked up with a large smile on her face. "That way," she pointed back across the road, "he flew east, or so the archers said."

With a nod and smile of his own, Galin followed her directions. Janessa ran to catch up as few things moved as fast as a Dwarf with a purpose. "Come on you two, can't leave the lad out there by himself. He's liable to catch a cold."

Gilliam chuckled, "The greatest things are held not by the hand of man, but on the backs of Dwarves.'"

Fleir ran with him step for step while thinking over what he said. "Where's that from?"

"The Song of Amethius, a poem by Tora." Gilliam's answer was matter-of-fact.

"A Dwarf?"

Gilliam shook his head, "An Elf." He smiled at her wide eyed expression. "After this is all over I'll tell you more about it if you'd like."

Fleir thought for a moment before nodding with an interested smile, "I look forward to it." She was rewarded with a return smile before the cleric set his face for what was to come. She shared in his worry; death had little meaning for beings that lived for several centuries. Perhaps it was that the Nymphs, like their distant cousins the Elves, understood death to be the natural order of things. She always wondered why the humans, and other races like them, raged against it so. Now she was beginning to understand.

Of all of the races on Pyrain, the humans were the only ones driven by their emotions. The intensity for which they lived was contagious, as she often felt the temptation herself. But she'd been around them for nearly her entire existence, the Dwarf for only a fraction of that but yet he displayed their best qualities.

All Nymphs consider Dwarves inferior, a sub-race because of their desire to remain buried underground for much of their existence. Much like an earthworm or mollusk, they seemed to run from the light of the outside world. But there was more to them than that. Like the humans, they believed in honor and justice. Like the Elves they constructed things of beauty and wonderment but, most significant in her mind, they observed the ways of the world with the patience of the Gods. She found it strange they were the least understood yet one of the most powerful people to walk the world.

Watching the others follow his lead in Berek's absence, she felt certain Berek often consulted with his friend. What she was doing was against all Nymph Law, but then how many of those Nymphs that would judge her ever found themselves in her situation? She smiled to herself, not only had she fallen in love with a human, but she followed a Dwarf. She really upturned the apple cart, as the humans were fond of saying.

Chapter 27

Berek pushed aside a branch so he could have a better view. In front of him was a dense grove of trees surrounded by thick brush. Not more than ten feet away he could hear the gargoyle breathing. The short rhythmic sound meant Fech was sleeping, a shame.

Berek hoped the creature would be awake so it could see its death but he'd been robbed of that by chance. Since the attack on the inn he found it difficult to reign in his temper, fighting against the urge to charge the grove with a battle cry. Instead he felt another option would work best. If Fech survived, so much the better.

A spell came to Berek's mind, he didn't know from where or how, but he knew it was the right one. He muttered the words, pronouncing them each perfectly. Once he spoke the final syllable a fire ball shot from him and struck the grove. The entire grove burst into flames causing a heart piercing shriek to roar out from the heart of the blaze.

The dark shape of Fech leapt from his hiding place and landed in the clearing between the grove and Berek. With parts of him on fire, the Gargoyle clawed his way to the small stream running next to the clearing and fell in. After a moment, Fech pulled himself out and onto the bank, his red, feral eyes burned brighter than the fire that had engulfed him. "Who dares attack me?" Though it came out more like a gravely sound than anything else, Berek understood and burst into laughter.

Fech spun towards the sound and recognized Berek. He knew the human wasn't standing in the clearing before. He must've come out of hiding while Fech was in the stream.

Fech let out a deep growl but the human kept laughing, "What's wrong Fech? Afraid of a little fire?"

"You were a fool to come after me, Berek!" Not knowing he'd done so, Fech reverted to speaking his native Draconian due to his anger and hatred.

To Berek, it all sounded like Common, "Then show me pet, or won't your master lift his boot high enough?"

"You dare mock me!" Fech lunged towards Berek with the strength of his four limbs. The speed of the action should've surprised the human but Berek side stepped, only catching a talon across his chest. Though it was just a scratch by gargoyle standards, it cut an inch into his flesh after cutting through the leather armor. "First blood is mine human, so will be the last!" Fech barely landed before he pivoted and launched at Berek again.

Ignoring the pain in his chest, Berek ducked low to avoid Fech, forcing the gargoyle to miss with his talons. With his foe off balance, Berek drove his sword into Fech's midsection. While the strike was deep it missed anything of importance but was enough to bring a howl of pain and anger from Fech.

With a sword buried six inches into his side, Fech swiveled, backhanding Berek across the face. The force of the blow sent the human hurtling into a small group of bushes several feet away. Fech reached down and pulled the sword from his side, glaring at the dark blood covering the blade before tossing it to the side. Never before had anyone wounded him that severely, Fech closed the distance between them determined not to allow it to happen again.

As soon as he made contact with the ground Berek rolled to the side expecting Fech to leap towards him. He rolled to his knees in time to see his short sword being tossed aside. He was no match for the gargoyle without a weapon, they both knew it. But instead of being attacked, he watched as Fech flexed his claws, circling around him. He was surprised, it wasn't like a gargoyle to not finish off a victim as soon as possible. Whatever caused the change in Fech, Berek was grateful. That was until he heard the words of magic. While he didn't understand them, his intuitively knew what was to come. Things just become more complicated.

*****

"They can't have gotten too far. I doubt Fech would risk returning to Renard." Gilliam pushed aside a smaller branch so it wouldn't get caught in his robes and held it for Fleir.

"Aye lad, he'd risk bringing the soldiers of Hope down on them. If they had a backbone, that is." Galin seemed to be faring better in the thick forest then his taller companions. Even when his steel shod boots tangled in the underbrush he weaved through the brush without disturbing a thing following Janessa's lead. Halflings were a distant relation to Elves. He knew that because all races the Dwarves trusted had to be related to the Elves. Funny, he thought, that a people could have so many relatives. He would've laughed at the thought as any good Dwarf would, but he'd come to like the little thief. She had a sense of honor and purpose about her one rarely saw in her kind. Or perhaps it was a trait the other races refused to see? Either way, he considered her a friend. He just didn't like to admit it even to himself.

He rested a comforting hand on Janessa's shoulder, "Don't worry lass, we'll find them." Galin reassured her in lowered tones so the others wouldn't hear. They each had their own concerns about their friend's decision.

Janessa was lost in her own thoughts, dark thoughts about the pain Viola had to bear before her death. Her mind went from that to the gargoyle, then to Berek and his bravery. If only she'd been stronger, faster, if only she hadn't wanted to go to the pit fights none of that would've happened.

Galin's soft words pierced the thick haze forming a barrier within her mind. His concern was genuine. She gained more friends at the cost of her best friend. Was that a fair exchange? She didn't think so, but it wasn't any of their faults. Viola seemed strange when she decided to remain behind. Had she known what was to happen? Was Berek right that she was still alive? Janessa's resolve began to erode, but not to the point where she was willing to forgive. Their attacker had to be slain; he had to pay for the murder he may have committed. Janessa scared herself; even she noticed she didn't sound like herself.

The Halfling let out a deep breath and tried to smile at Galin, what appeared was a sour looking smile. "I know, it's just that... that I should be there with him. It's more my fault than his."

To her surprise he nodded, "Aye lass, but that's why he's doing it. You've been through so much, he wants to spare you more pain."

Janessa's eyes widened for an instant, she didn't think of that! A tear began to form in her eye as she understood Berek. She was soiled by blood. The one time she killed nearly destroyed her.

Galin watched her with a practiced eye, she understood as he did. Not even Gilliam understood his nephew as much as he liked to believe. I must be getting wise in my mid years, He thought though he wasn't sure where it came from. "You'll have your chance lass, not everyone can say that."

A sudden wave of heat and smoke rose into the air not more than a mile from them as a deep throated scream of agony ripped through the air.

"Sounds like he found Fech." Gilliam raised his mace and broke into a run as did the others.

"Aye and the beast doesn't sound none too happy."

Fleir kept up with them through the forest with ease, the only impediment was her clothing as it snagged on every branch but she refused to let it stop her. She had a desire to reach her beloved but knew they were moving too slow. Desperate to ensure their arrival and Berek's safety, she closed her eyes and began the metamorphosis. In seconds, she changed into a wisp of air and enveloped the companions. Using as much of her magic as she dared they became enshrouded, wisps of air like herself. To their surprise their speed increased, leaving them not knowing how they arrived at the clearing as the wounded gargoyle and human locked in an embrace of magic.

*****

The fireball, it was the one powerful spell Fech knew. It was born into all of the Draconian races but not always with the ability to use it. He disliked it because it drained him of so much of his energy and strength, both of which he needed against a human both he and Renard had underestimated.

Fech's last attack was repelled, how he had no idea, and it nearly caught him in another inferno. His wings and gravely hide were blistered from Berek's initial attack and pained him. Gargoyles were ambush specialists, few survived when the tables were turned.

Berek cast a spell of his own, one that fired numerous purplish objects at the gargoyle. Furious, Fech didn't notice the arrival of the others as he leapt into the air. He dodged a couple of the magic missiles but some found their mark, causing pain to tear through his body. He wanted to end this torment; the sport of the hunt, the challenge was gone. For the first time he feared for his life and asked why that man needed help against the Nursk Brothers? Until then he believed Berek had been aided, now he wasn't so sure.

His flight pattern forced Berek to circle around, a task that proved to be enough to disrupt his concentration which meant there would be no more magic. Fech was pleased with himself for his maneuvering and dove for the human. Too late he saw he'd fallen into a trap as Berek grabbed for the sword the gargoyle had tossed aside only moments before. Oh well, Fech thought, I'll die but this human will join me.

A shout from the side broke the gargoyle's concentration for a moment. So, he failed to kill Berek's friends. A pity they survived only to see their hero killed. Fech smiled as his red glowing eyes locked on Berek's all black eyes. Fech recognized those eyes, the ones all Draconian kind feared. Numb from his instinctual fear, he didn't feel the burning blade slice through him, nor the impact with the human. His only thought was to kill the human before it was too late.

The companions stopped in awe at the sight before them. Fleir dropped to her knees unable to move from exhaustion, after transporting all of them to her beloved. The erupting scream took them all by surprise except for one. Somehow, it was like Janessa expected it as she raced towards Berek. She felt it happen but couldn't ever recall doing it afterwards.

The sight and sound of the impact shook Janessa, more so than the lack of screams from the two combatants. She was sure the large gargoyle crushed Berek but the beast was struggling with him, trying to rip Berek's face apart with its failing strength. The scene was horrifying, a flaming sword blade stuck out from Fech's back, his wings and skin were badly burned, and there was blood everywhere. Both black and red covered the two as they each fought for Berek's life.

Berek was losing, Janessa could tell, just a few feet away she could see Berek's strength fading. The gargoyle would kill him before it died. She couldn't allow it to happen, not to another friend. She pulled out the silver dagger she bought from Galin just a couple of days before and leapt onto the gargoyle's back. Janessa struggled to hold on as the flames from the sword burned her leather leggings and legs. In desperation, she raised the dagger and stabbed down as hard as she could. Everything around her stopped as if that moment were frozen in time. Feeling and motion returned when the gargoyle went limp and fell to the side. She scrambled off its back to avoid being pinned and found herself on Berek.

To her surprise he smiled at her, his face was caked in blood from himself and Fech. "Well done... warrior." Berek's voice was little more than a whisper and was followed by a coughing fit that brought out a mouthful of blood.

Crying, Janessa grabbed his collar, "Don't you die Berek! Don't you dare die!" She thought she heard words of magic but they weren't the same she was used to hearing from Viola. The last thing she saw before everything went black was Berek closing his eyes.

The Sword and the Flame:

The Purging

Chapter 1

Was she dreaming? It didn't feel like a dream, at least she didn't think of it as one. What did that mean? Janessa crossed her arms in thought; at least she believed she did. The place she found herself had a queer enough feel to it to make the Halfling's skin crawl.. Around her was nothing, and that was wrong. Everything was around her as well, all she had to do was think of a thing, no matter how big or small, and it would appear. She toyed with her discovery at first, thinking of the most outlandish colored items she could. Each time they appeared, and for the briefest of moments, gave some life and cheer to her surroundings.

It wasn't that the landscape was ugly or twisted, it was just bland. The ground, if one chose to call it that, was a fine gray powder. Despite its soft texture it was impossible to dig, leave a footprint, or otherwise disturb it. The sky was a pinkish blue color with no clouds or sun to light the way but yet she could see. Maybe the ground gave off the light like a layer of snow seemed to under the watchful eye of the full moon.

Her natural curiosity was aroused, though she couldn't help shuddering at the lack of feeling everything had. She felt numb but no amount of rubbing brought the feeling back to her arms. No, Janessa didn't like wherever she was. With no other option, she began walking. Any direction was as good as another in a place like this, she reasoned. Her thoughts weren't on her friends, which was odd for her. She concentrated on finding a way out of the wasteful expanse.

To the contrary, Berek felt a sharp stabbing pain somewhere in his body but he couldn't think of where it was. His body was alive with feeling. He felt warm, fevered, while ice cold fingers fought for a purchase everywhere he was warm. Warm one moment, then cold the next, and then back to warm was enough to drive anyone mad. In desperation, he tried to throw off both sets of hands causing the sensations, but his body wouldn't work. Instead, each of his commands to move were followed by a renewing pain.

He tried to focus but his mind seemed to be fighting its own war as it slowed down with each touch of the cold fingers only to once more become alert as the warmth overtook it. Helpless, Berek tried to find some way to make his body obey him, but each time it refused. His body never failed him before, now seeming intent on allowing him to suffer.

Voices. Berek could make out a pair of voices but he wasn't sure where they came from. It took some time for his mind to focus enough for him to recognize them. While their names escaped him, he was able to tell them apart. One was older sounding, deep and husky as it spoke some strange language he never heard before. A small part of his mind called it magic but became fuddled from another sense of cold grasping him. When Berek's mind cleared with the receding cold, he believed it wasn't magic, at least not any kind he ever heard of. At the end of each thought he could feel a sharp pain followed by nothing.

The second voice was softer, far gentler than the first. Its words folded around him, engulfing him in love and kindness. He never felt such a feeling before, never imagined something like it could exist. As each word caressed him, they seemed to drive away the cold fingers fighting for a purchase on him. If this was a dream, he was content to relax in its embrace and let it lead him.
Author's Note:

Hello, I hope you've enjoyed reading The Sword and the Flame: The Forging as well as an excerpt from book two, The Purging. If you'd like to read more about my novels or simply want to say "hi" feel free to stop by my websites to drop me a line:

cpbialois.webs.com

cpbialois.wordpress.com

facebook.com/CP Bialois

Twitter.com/cpbialois.

Until next time, let your imagination fly.

