

For Sontsa, my editor, artist, and best friend

Copyright © 2020 by Dane A. Rodriguez

Mars' Arcadium: The Great Forest, 1st Edition

Art by Sontsa Y. Spring

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America

#

#  Order of Records

Prelude: The Robotics Team

Part I: The Monastery

Chapter 1: The Next Page

Chapter 2: Suna

Chapter 3: Revelry

Chapter 4: Sky Pond

Chapter 5: The Way

Part II: Exile

Chapter 6: Westmarch

Chapter 7: The Hunt

Chapter 8: The Ruins of Westpoint

Chapter 9: Aeyr

Chapter 10: Outriders

Part III: Trail of the Forgotten

Chapter 11: The Northern Pass

Chapter 12: The Halls of Famledon

Chapter 13: Star Dome

Chapter 14: Writing the Fates

Part IV: Black Mountain

Chapter 15: The Old Forest
Chapter 16: Siege
Chapter 17: Game of Gods

Part V: Return

Chapter 18: The Rogue's Treasure

Chapter 19: Home

Epilogue: The Winter Reverie

"So that others may see the Way."

-Mars Arcadius, Sage
  *

Prelude: The Robotics Team

The suspension of the old civic groaned as it swung in to split the line of two parking spaces. The engine died as soon as it stopped. Marshall left the finicky machine double parked as he made the afternoon trek to the side door of the school library. At his back, the last rays of the sun still washed over the skyrises of Atlanta.

The door clicked shut behind him, silencing the bustling and honking commuters out on the boulevard. All was quiet as he passed between the rows of the tall bookshelves.

Even after all the time he spent in the Banneker High library, the cool air-conditioned air and distinct aroma made by the tons of old books shoved together shook him from the tired routine. It left the earthy imprints of dirt and sweat from the baseball diamond forgotten.

The shadowed orchard of shelves, groaning beneath the weight of decades-old mass market paperbacks, opened to the space around the circulation desk. It was out here the sole fluorescent lights shining in the space spilled from the computer lab.

Tucked away as they were in the lab nook, he saw the carcass of steel and silicon sprawled across the table before spotting the other members of the Banneker High Robotics Team.

"Hey," he said. All three of the team were still present, over two hours since school had let out.

Theodore leaned back from his computer and threw his chin up in greetings, pulling the hood from his oversized sweatshirt back up as it slid off his head.

"What's up," Arthur said with a quick glance up from the table. A goofy mop of blonde hair fell over his eyes as he looked back down, lording over the mess of chassis and circuitry like a surgeon.

Catherine remained seated. She smiled to him before falling back into whatever thought it was Marshall had interrupted.

"How's spring training going?" Arthur said.

"Still just a lot of batting practice. We did some hard-pitch today, though. Sideways threw his shoulder out."

"Which means a new pitcher might step up?"

"Yup."

"And you've been clocking fastballs in the nineties lately?"

"That's right," Marshall said with a grin. "How are y'all looking so far this year?"

"Conditioning is the name of the game. Tomorrow we're playing some futsal in the gym, so that will be fun."

Theodore popped out a headphone. "Y'all ain't taking the gym. The dancers already pushed us into the alt gym, so where do you think you're gonna go?"

Arthur snorted. "I don't know. Maybe we get the alt gym, and you guys can practice in the cafeteria."

"Jokes. I don't see any state titles from the dance team or grass queens, yet we still get pushed out of our own gym. Hey, Marshall, check this out real quick."

"I didn't know JV went to state," Arthur muttered.

Marshall stopped circling the table and finally settled on a workstation, setting his backpack down in a chair.

Theodore leaned back with his hand on the computer mouse. "Ight, so I'm tryna get the array checking functions right for the text files. Check out the output it's giving me." A window was open with a nest of coding. Red error messages filled the box below the code.

It took Marshall a moment to focus on the screen. "Ight, I think I see it," he finally said.

"Hold up." Theodore straightened up in the chair. Blue light glossed over his eyes. He blinked and pinched at his nose. "Nah... I see," he said. "Damn counter should start from one."

"Language." Catherine had snuck up next to Marshall, standing to his left to look at the screen. "I already told you that."

"Stupid. For. Loop." Theodore hammered at the keys and pushed back from his chair. "I'm taking a minute off. This is the type of shi-"

"Theodore!" Catherine cut in.

"Aye, I told you about that 'Theodore' nonsense. Out here, it's Draelo. I'll try and be perusing through my language and the like, but you gotta cut out that soft name," Theodore said as he left their island of fluorescent light for the quiet din of the library.

"So what's the deal over here? Is that ping holding up?" Marshall left the code and circled around the table across from Arthur.

"Yeah, Andre 4000 still has his eyes. The new ones have been humming along since we put that shunt off the emcee."

"The motor controller is fried, though." Catherine pulled the controller from a particularly dense nest of wires in the tangle. "When we had it running earlier, this trace on the H-bridge fizzled a puff of smoke."

"I guess that's two more points for Arthur," Marshall said. "We shouldn't have gone with the Chinese knock-off."

"I told ya about them Chinese," Arthur responded in one of his bad accents. "Always making cheap crap and takin' all our jobs to do it." He sounded exactly like what a kid from east side Atlanta would trying to imitate their idea of a boonies hick.

He smiled and glanced over at Catherine, and seeing the joke didn't land, ran a hand through his mop of hair and looked back down at the table. "But, boy if those parts aren't getting us through on budget."

"Yeah well there isn't anything we can do about it today. I'll put an order in for Ms. Garfinkle. She in the classroom?"

"Yup. Chess club, table for two," Arthur said.

The three of them stood in silence for a few moments, each looking at Andre 4000, the name Theodore had made up for Banneker High's inaugural robot.

Catherine interrupted the silence. "You guys want to get a few chess games in before we wrap it up? I don't work until six tonight."

"Eh, sure. Hey, 'Draelo', you want to play a few games?"

"Whatever!" Theodore called back. "Woah!" A dull thump sounded nearby his voice.

"Alright, let's go see if we can get a seat at that table for two." Marshall picked up his bag and leaned over Theodore's computer to save the code.

The group packed away Andre 4000 and made their way over to the library's front door. Theodore met them there, holding a book out in both hands. "This thing fell on me. I was just walking and it fell from the top shelf, almost on my head. Have you ever seen this one?" He held the book out towards Marshall.

He blinked at it. Marshall had spent more than his fair share of time dodging class hidden away among the bookshelves in here, getting fairly well acquainted with the old Asimov reprints and occasional history book updated for the latest century. What Theodore held in his hand was like the casual sight of a snow leopard in a pet shop: sure, it's an animal, but one whose presence among hamsters and fish might be so shocking as to take you a moment to register.

The cover at first looked like some of the books he remembered at the fairs that came around in elementary school. Overly enthusiastic guys with greying ponytails fell upon the school in huge buses, invading the gym with their wares, and among the posters and glitter pens were overpriced books with tacky covers glued over with plastic gemstones. For the undiscerning young souls who dared crack those plastic covers, nothing but an overly large cursive font met them, the attempt at calligraphy almost apologetical for the paper thin story it spread over as many pages as possible.

"No," Marshall said. He hadn't seen one of those since the last book fair in grade school. And he for sure had not seen whatever this was in the school library. It took a moment for his eyes to accept that the faded cover was not some cheap facade, that the brilliantly colored gems inlaid in the very real leather were not plastic. Another moment, and his eyes admitted that though they must surely be made of glass, it was still quite a quality object.

"Then I guess that makes me the big winner around here," Theodore said.

"It just fell from a shelf? Let me see it."

"Pays to explore, sis." Theodore pulled the book back. Stones of red, of blue, of green, and of orange laid in the center of runes connected by once-vibrant dyed lines. The cover opened to reveal a much larger blue stone set in the center of the pages.

"Aye," Theodore said, his fingers reaching for the blue gemstone. "Ya'll think this sapphire is worth anything?"

A lifetime could have passed before Marshall let the thought materialize that it was actually a sapphire.

"Not to you," Catherine said.

Theodore's fingers stopped before they touched the stone. He looked up at his sister. "This is the type of Debbie Dogood attitude that is keeping us down. I found an old book with gems literally stuck in it and you have to be miss proper."

"Don't mess with it. You'll ruin the book." The words jumped out of Marshall's mouth before he could think about them. Nothing had ever looked more right to him than that strange blue gem or glass or whatever it was buried in the faded parchment. Nothing of such elegance could he ever have imagined among the dated paperbacks straining the shelves around them.

Theodore glanced up at him, suspicious, though he did close the cover.

"Just bring it along. Maybe it's some of Ms. Garfinkle's weird new-age literature that she left lying around." Arthur peeled his eyes away and went for the door.

"Or a sting operation run by Principal Jefferson," Theodore said.

"Sure, that sounds more likely."

The late-afternoon hallways met them beyond the double doors of the library. They passed through the long and quiet passages, lonely footsteps scuffing on the linoleum, like tomb robbers. But sadder, even, than the species of opportunistic souls who stake their fortunes to loot the graves of long forgotten heroes, the robotics team of Banneker High were a much lower breed: the forlorn over-achiever. Many a forlorn overachiever has gone broke searching the tomb of the after hours public school for riches.

Ms. Garfinkle's door was the only one open along the east wing. Light shone from her classroom, and as they got closer, a giggle echoed out.

"You can't move there!"

"Hmm? Haven't you ever played Polish rules, Trey? You can choose to give the knight an extra space."

"You're pulling my leg!"

The old english teacher glanced up from the chess board as they entered, a grandmotherly smile on her face. Across from her sat Trey Robinson, the only member of the school's chess club.

Trey had been on the robotics team before he shocked himself messing around with the oscilloscope. No one could figure out how it happened, but Marshall had seen him jamming probes into random sockets after school one day. Even with this insider knowledge, it was impossible to figure out the exact cause of the minor shock that cost the school's newest club $3000 on the first day it started.

So the chess club returned for the first time in three years. Ms. Garfinkle pulled double duty as the advisor for both, which in practice left the four of the robotics team almost completely unsupervised as they bootstrapped the club.

Trey cut off another loud giggle as they entered. He turned to direct a huffy sigh at them. "I'm about to beat Ms. Garfinkle. Don't mess up our game."

"Oh, don't be so sure, Trey," Ms. Garfinkle hummed. "I still have that rook looking to get at your back line." She turned from the chess board, her pale eyes magnified to a ridiculous size in the thick lenses of her glasses. "How's our little bot coming along?"

Theodore sat down in a chair by the door. "Andre-"

"Ms. Garfinkle: it's your move. You can't talk when it's your move."

"You let me talk to you when it's my move, Trey. It wouldn't be very fair if I didn't talk to other people too, would it?"

A terrible grinding broke up the peace of the room as Arthur dragged a desk towards their table and sat down, practically leaning right over the middle of the chessboard. "Everything is looking alright. But we have to get a new motor controller." He glanced at Trey's white pieces. "What are you thinking about doing with that bishop there?" Arthur said.

Trey huffed again and turned away from him.

"Hmmm?" Ms. Garfinkle shuffled a pawn up on the board.

"I got all the data files being read," Theodore reported.

"Theo, love, I'm certain your codes are excellent. But you should invest some time in your grammar as well."

"That's yo job."

"Learning is the students job, as much as the teacher. Were you all wanting to play? I'm sure Trey could benefit from practicing against some other playing types."

Trey didn't seem to like that. He pushed his queen forward and sat back, crossing his arms over the red shirt showing a cartoon pawn saying 'King Me!' Marshall looked at the board, seeing that Ms. Garfinkle could put a knight in position to force a check that would cost Trey his queen, 'Polish rules' or not. Arthur pursed his lips and looked away.

"Hmmm. I don't know about that move, dear. Did you put the library back together?"

"Yeah, we did. Hey, Ms. Garfinkle. We found this old book and wanted to know if you knew anything about it," Arthur said.

"Uh huh." Theodore popped up from his desk and strode over. "Big old thing almost knocked me out in there. Check out this sapphire." He displayed the book proudly over the table, looking like he wanted to drop it on the chess board.

"Sapphire? Oh... bring that closer." Her magnified eyes squinted to look closer at the book. The blue stone sparkled in the reflection of her glasses. "That isn't a sapphire. Hmmm. But it is something. It's beautiful."

"So it's a real gem?" Theodore said.

"At the very least, it's a good fake." Ms. Garfinkle placed the book on her desk, prompting yet another loud sigh from Trey. "You said this was in the school library?"

"Yeah, I was just walking along and it almost fell on my head. Then I started thinking about how Darius won that lawsuit because he cut his hand on the bandsaw in -"

Marshall stood over Ms. Garfinkle, looking at the front page over her shoulder. "You think it's a reproduction?"

Her eyes squinted behind her glasses. "I don't know... I wouldn't daresay a book that just fell off the shelf in the library could possibly be anything but. Yet, a reproduction of what?"

She traced a finger over the first lines, a sharp scrawl of a foreign language. "The writing almost looks like Basque... or Gaelic, which would make more sense for the style of the cover."

"But then you have the style of the illustrations," Ms. Garfinkle said as she turned a few more pages. "They are more... Eastern."

They huddled around as she started turning more pages, stopping at the occasional drawing. Her eyes deepened. Aside from Trey tapping around on the chess board, the room fell silent. Ms. Garfinkle paged through, with each turn revealing more of the sharp handwriting organized with little structure or headings. There were diagrams, runes, sketches of incredible detail that looked simple after intricate art of silver and gold ink etched into parchment dyed dark blue or the color of a dawn morning.

Marshall didn't know how long they stood there as Ms. Garfinkle carefully flipped through. The runes seemed to float off the page, and he saw them still as the next page of a medieval workshop or city followed. Strange, squat people with beautiful faces worked intently over studies and observatories of brass mechanisms. Horrid creatures stalked among mythical landscapes.

Then, there was an image from the aisle of a modern library. Intoned in silver ink, a young man in an oversized sweatshirt held a book in his hand. The surprised face beneath the hood of the sweatshirt was unmistakable.

"That's me," Theodore said, distantly. A heartbeat passed, and he leaped back as if a snake had crawled from under the book. "Yo, that's me!"

"There's no way..." Arthur whispered.

Ms. Garfinkle had gone a shade paler, yet something akin to a fledgling understanding still possessed her wizened eyes.

"How can that be me? How can I be drawn into an old book I just found? Yo, what is this?" He looked around the room. "Ashton Kutcher better get his ass out here right now! Sis, we're being Punk'd!"

The page turned. Rows of school desks filled a classroom. In the center, a scholarly woman bent over a tome. Marshall saw the profile of his own face gazing down over her shoulder. Catherine stood beside him. Inlaid over the scene was a rune.

Ms. Garfinkle's hand reached through time and space to turn the next page.

Marshall let out a long held breath.

"It's blank," Catherine said. "What does that mean?"

Trey glanced up from where he danced a horseman around the chessboard. "It's not blank," he said.

"Yo, not now, Trey," Theodore said. "This is not the time for jokes."

Trey looked around at them, and then back to the book. "I can see the page, Theodore. You can't trick me."

Everyone stared back at him, besides Ms. Garfinkle.

"You really see something?" Catherine said.

Trey fidgeted from the attention on him, and then looked back down at the chessboard, dancing the knight to the other side. "You guys are pulling my leg again."

The back cover thumped closed. The gemstones shone back at them in the fluorescent lighting.

"That's it, I'm out. Lets go, Cat." Theodore nudged his sister's arm.

Arthur stood like a statue over the desk. "Ms. Garfinkle... How is that possible?"

The old woman no longer touched the book. "I don't know. It is not a school library book, that much is for sure."

"You think? This is some hoodoo witchcraft! I ain't playing with it, I'm out."

Catherine peeled her eyes away from the book and glanced at the clock. Marshall followed her gaze. He wasn't completely sure, but the clock showed the same time that it had when they first entered the classroom. The same time that was on the clock in the drawing.

"Sis, you remember what auntie said about this stuff. We gotta go, or something bad is gonna happen," Theodore pulled at her sleeve, stepping towards the door. His voice sounded far off as Marshall tried to piece together the afternoon since school ended.

He left last period early to get a snack, then met the team at Lee Field around 2:45. Practice usually took an hour and a half, but today ran a bit longer. So he probably got to the library just shy of 5.

"This joke isn't funny anymore," Trey said.

"This ain't no joke, son!"

How long had he been in the library? Twenty minutes?

Marshall felt Arthur's eyes on him as the conversation floated in the air like dancing word bubbles.

"You good, man?" Arthur said, his voice a bit shaken.

"Yeah. I should probably be getting home," Marshall replied. His thoughts trailed away as the book disappeared into a drawer in Ms. Garfinkle's desk.

"For sure," Arthur said. "I've got to be home in time for Tuesday night service. I might pay closer attention tonight..."

"I have to get to work." Catherine pulled away with her brother.

"You going to be alright?" Marshall said to Ms. Garfinkle.

Ms. Garfinkle nodded, her red-framed glasses bobbing up and down on her sharp nose. "I'll just leave this packed away. Maybe we can look at it later with fresh eyes," she said with an almost convincing measure of composure. "Hey, maybe keep this between us for now? I know we shouldn't, but it feels like the right thing to do."

"I don't care, but I ain't looking at it again," Theodore said.

"Maybe we're just tired," Arthur suggested. Trey tapped pieces on the chess board, not interested either way.

Back in the halls, Marshall shuffled along with the robotics team. Arthur tried to lighten the mood, but his efforts fell flat.

He again lost track of the time as he found the creaky silver Honda back out in the parking lot. The storm clouds that had been brewing from the coast were now almost upon the East Atlanta area. He made his way home, beating the rain that began to tap on the tin roof over the porch just as he pulled the screen door open.

Lightning cracked outside, joining the blue glow of the television to cast shadows in the dark living room. A fan whirred over an animated man's mumbled sales pitch. Every table was perfectly in place. The surfaces were dustless. The smell of lemon pledge hung in the air.

A lone form sat on the couch. Thin hands clutched at a blanket with a blue elephant sowed into it. The screech of the screen door prompted a dreamy murmur as the woman shifted over.

Marshall shuffled past to his room.

He closed the door, silencing the mumbling and that blue t.v. glow. He sat on his bed. His hands still carried the odor of his torn batting gloves and the worn rubber handle of the bat his coach loaned him. They were good smells, comforting and real. His clothes clung to his sticky body in the humidity. He glanced over to where the closet lay slightly open in the corner by the window. The branches of the long-dead oak tree moved stiffly in the wind outside.

The only sounds were the whoosh of the fan overhead, and the light dink, dink of the chain for the light switch bumping against the lightbulb. Rain pattered on the roof, gushing down in streams where the gutters had long ago been ripped away.

He closed his eyes. Far off in the darkness, a blue stone glowed softly. He reopened his eyes to see the fan rotating above him. He traced the blades as they circled, seeing the strange markings wavering on the ceiling between the plastic blades. The words wriggled their way from line to line. The desire to understand them sizzled with a cosmic fear of what they may say.

A purple flash filled the room from the window before thunder boomed outside. Something slid from the top shelf of the closet, striking the door as it thumped down on a pile of clothes. The door creaked open a few more inches.

More signs began to haunt him as sleep laid far away. He knew it would be this way the second he saw the book in Theodore's hands. Marshall ignored it all, focusing on the fan blades spinning round and round over his bed. He tried to escape the thought that down the lonely halls of the school's east wing, in the darkness of that desk drawer, a new page was being written on the old parchment.

At some point, his eyes closed for the last time that night. The creaking of the porch beneath heavy footsteps and the screech of the screen door being dragged open drifted through the small house unheard.

#  Part I: The Monastery

## Chapter 1: The Next Page

He awoke without leaving the peace of sleep.

The smell struck him first: that of treated lumber and earth and smoke, like a home depot in the middle of a campground. Marshall sat up to find himself not in his bed, but on a hard wooden bench he had been sleeping so soundly on. The appearance of the strange room, a structure made from sturdy and roughly sanded wood over a flagstone floor, matched the smell.

The space was octagonal, with other wooden benches lining the walls like human sized shelves. Two other forms laid on the shelves. Across from him two bronze rings looked back at him.

"Catherine," he whispered. Over the firepit, where tendrils of smoke drifted up from a bed of red coals, she held a finger to her lips and beckoned him over.

Marshall crossed over and sat beside her. His words trailed away as he caught a closer look at his schoolmate. He looked from her back around the room as the fog of sleep cleared from his eyes.

She sat silently, her own eyes calm but focused as they took in the strange environment.

"What's going on?" Marshall said.

"I don't know. I wanted to wait for y'all to get up before checking outside." She glanced over at him, her dark brown eyes glowing like he had never seen before. Behind them, he could see the gears in her head turning like a finely tuned watch. Marshall caught a slight disruption in the mechanism. In reflex, he glanced down at his bare arms. His own skin seemed richer and darker, as Catherine's did.

"You look... different, Catherine."

She nodded. "So do you. It feels different. Just sit here for a second and tell me if you feel it, too."

Marshall sat up on the bench and let his eyes drift around the room. Every detail was as Catherine appeared. He tried to put his finger on it. He was reminded of when his cousin had gotten the newest gamestation, and how it made him realize how bad the graphics were on his old playcube.

There was something else, though. Marshall almost caught it before a soft knock came at the door. He rose to his feet as the door crept inward.

"Is anyone up yet?" A voice called softly into the space. A frizz of white hair peeked through the opening.

"Ms. Garfinkle," Marshall said, feeling his shoulders drop.

The door opened the rest of the way. Ms. Garfinkle's small form squeezed in and slid the door shut behind her. Marshall craned to get a glimpse of the outside, but he could not see anything from where he stood.

"Where are we?" Catherine said.

"I'm not quite sure, little birds." The old woman snuck over and sat on the bench beside them. "I woke up in a room like this, only smaller. A man and a woman came in to talk to me. They are monks, and we are in their monastery."

Ms. Garfinkle faltered as she looked at them. Her pale blue eyes were smaller as she studied her students without the thick glasses. She looked free, too, from the tiredness Marshall always assumed most older people carried in their eyes.

"The monks said that we were found with a caravan at the edge of a forest nearby. Villagers came across us and brought us here, knowing the monks would help." She paused and looked towards the door, a peaceful smile touching her face. "You should see it outside. Wherever we are is the most beautiful place I have ever seen."

"What did you tell them? We were never with any kind of caravan. We have no idea where we are," Marshall said.

"I told them that I am a teacher, and you are my students. I really don't know what the truth is beyond that. They want to talk to you when everyone wakes up."

The three of them looked over to the other two still sleeping. Arthur had at some point rolled over nearly to the edge of his bench. He hung on to the wooden shelf looking like he could fall at any minute. Theodore lay sprawled on his stomach, his long frame stretched all the way across the pine plank.

A stronger knock came at the door. Mumbling, Arthur lifted his head and leaned further back. He began to tip over the edge. His arm shot out to slap the bench.

"Ah!" He yelled, flailing as he crashed to the stone floor. He sat up and stared absently around the room. Theodore stretched out even further and yawned.

The door opened. Arthur jumped to his feet as a form appeared at the door, silhouetted by red daylight streaming into the room from behind. The newcomer glided in with a light breeze, loose robes the color of a sunburst shimmering behind him. He stood just inside the doorway. "Greetings, Students of Azera Magnus. May I enter?"

Arthur gaped stupidly at the strange man over the smoke rising from the embers. He looked past the man and out through the door.

Theodore stretched yet again and opened his eyes. "Man... what the...?" He jumped to his feet with surprising quickness, perched on the bench like a startled cat.

The robed man walked to the center of the room and bowed to them as he repeated his greetings. "Please, relax. You have been asleep for two days now. I'm sure you are all very disoriented."

Marshall felt himself lighten at the suggestion to relax. The robed man stood beside the rising wisps of smoke as they swirled softly in the breeze. He was older, nearing late middle age, but his face was lean and sharp-featured, and his tan skin incredibly smooth. Leafy green eyes unlike anything Marshall had ever seen radiated a genuine kindness. The man was utterly impossible to place to any ethnicity except in the most superficial features.

"Master Yune-Wais," Ms. Garfinkle said. "Thank you for your hospitality. These are my students. Please, introduce yourselves."

Arthur still stared at the monk, his eyes wide and foggy from being suddenly awoken. "I'm Art... Arthu... Uh, Arthus," he said. "Where are we?"

The monk smiled and held his hand. "In due time." He gave a half bow before turning to Theodore.

Theodore took a hesitant step down from the bench. "I'm Draelo, brother master."

Catherine shook her head, but smiled as the monk turned to her. "My name is Kasia. Pleased to meet you."

The monk turned to Marshall. A name appeared as the leaf-green eyes fell on him.

"I'm Mars."

"Well met, travellers. I am Yune-Wais. You are my welcomed guests of our monastery."

"And where is this monastery?'" Arthur repeated.

Yune-Wais looked from Ms. Garfinkle to each of her students. "Come, with me." He beckoned them to follow as he turned, orange silk flowing behind him and out the door.

One by one they stepped out of the hut into a world beneath an expanse of blue sky ablaze with a high red sun. Marshall looked up to the sky, nearly falling backwards as the spread of blue ended at a black wall towering behind him. He turned around to where the long hill rolled far up and away. At the peak rose a monolith of black granite.

The others stopped and turned, suspended in the sight of the immense rock dominating the land around. Water coated much of the rock like a sheen of oil. Waterfalls wore channels as they cascaded down.

"It's almost like El Capitan in Yosemite," Arthur said in awe.

Yune-Wais smiled kindly. He alone remained upright beside the monolith. He led them across the turf field that looked like it fell over the edge of the world. Below, the long hillside rolled away from them.

The view nearly dragged the breath from Marshall's chest. They stood high on a massive hill. The monastery spread over an impossibly long slope as a patchwork of flat terraces carved into the rocky ground. Robed forms like ants traversed the platforms of dirt fields or walled off groupings of houses and temples. The base of the hill levelled off towards a wall of standing logs, beyond which a sea of grass speckled with flowering trees wandered off to a horizon of white clouds painted with fire. A warm breeze stirred up the hill, carrying the earthy smells of dirt and grass.

"This is the Monastery of the Spring Rock," Yune-Wais said. "These quiet heights are usually where elders and masters of more peaceful arts stay, but given the state you all arrived in, we decided to keep you here." He stood before the view with them. "Most fortunately, I would say."

Theodore blinked over the landscape. "Are we... Is this China?" He said.

"I have never heard of 'China.' We call this realm the Neomeo: the beyond lands." Yune-Wais said.

"Beyond what?" Theodore said.

"All in good time," Yune-Wais replied cryptically.

Arthur snorted. He scanned the compound and turned back to the towering black rock. "How much water is up there?" He had to point nearly straight up to where streams spilled or tumbled over the edge of the peaks.

Marshall traced Arthur's finger down the falls to a series of stone channels that ran from the base of the rock down the hill. The channels were broken up by waterwheels, or split apart to flow to the terraces.

"The Spring Rock contains a source somewhere within it. We do not know where the water comes from, but there is a lake at the top. Some among us have ventured deep into the lake and found caves that go on longer than we can hold our breath," Yune-Wais said as he appreciated the view with them.

He stood patiently, nearly as entranced by the view as the rest of them. At last he guided them away. "Please, come along. There is much I like to show. It is less often these days that scholars travel here."

They followed weightlessly, suspended in the massive granite stone, lost among the great slope of the hill as Yune-Wais led them along the path. Old monks in white robes labored at neatly kept gardens, or sat beneath stone pavilions as the quiet streams bubbled up in the baths and fountains around them. Like Yune-Wais, they were remarkably lean despite their age.

As they descended, the terraces grew larger. Children in cream-colored robes ran about. More monks looked up from where they worked tending fields and gardens, carving at logs, or repairing structures to nod or bow to them with eyes that glowed brilliantly in the red light of the sun.

One monk looked up at them and smiled. Marshall stared back at her, trying to peel his eyes away as they passed by on the path.

"What... the?" Theodore said somewhat quietly.

"Shush." Catherine said. "Just keep walking."

"Nah, nah," he said, now louder. "What? What the...?" He turned to Arthur and Marshall. "You see that girl? She had yellow eyes! And her ears!"

"Theodore, shut up," Arthur said, his own voice lost in confused awe.

Halfway down the hill, a thundering channel of water flowed through a shop where a stout man pulled a glowing length of metal from a furnace and placed it onto an anvil. They crossed the bridge as the sound of pounding metal followed. Further down, the channel ran on to turn the saw of a lumber mill, and even further to roll the stone of a flour mill.

They passed through to another quiet section of the hill, where little water fell from the rock. Yune-Wais turned back upward to climb a steep set of stairs straight back up the hill.

"Yo, like, I'm just making sure we all saw that. Yellow. Eyes. Her ears! She wasn't no normal person."

"Ah, you mean Master Ilias? She is the only elf of our monastery," Yune-Wais said.

"Elf! I thought this was amish China, not Santa's workshop!"

Yune-Wais looked as if he wanted to respond, but decided against it as they came to a small terrace. The monolith rose above them. In front of the base, a temple of colored stones stood out from the wall of black stone.

The temple had no door, with the atrium of the building lying within a cave of stone-carved oak trees. Yune-Wais pulled a lever in the dim room. Marshall looked up to see a sphere rotate, solid metal rolling to show a side that looked like an olive pit. The pit reflected red sunlight down to a glass sphere that illuminated the chamber. Statues of warriors in flowing robes surrounded them, guarding walls of wood etched with murals.

"This is but one temple constructed to the knowledges of our order."

"Check that out," Arthur said, nudging Theodore. He went over to a statue.

"This man is looking fresh with that sword."

Marshall joined Ms. Garfinkle at the far wall with Yune-Wais. Richly carved wood detailed a sprawling map. The style of the drawings made him pause for a moment, the style reminiscent to those adorning the pages of the book. He had somehow forgotten about the book until now.

"Check her out. This lady would beat you like a drum, Arthur." Draelo stood by another statue. A warrior gazed out fiercely from the openings in her marble helmet, levelled over the point of a spear resting on a shield strapped to her arm.

"Yeah, and imagine what she would do to you, considering I could whoop your ass."

"Psht."

Yune-Wais glanced back at them before gesturing to the wall. "This map is one of our madrigals: a living work updated over the ages as our own monks and travellers bring back to add to our knowledge."

Adrift in the seas, a single continent stretched across the block of old wood. Among the lands were the carvings of monsters: serpents and kraken out in the seas, hordes of spear-wielding brutes in forests and grasslands, giants and dragons in the mountains, and unrecognizable and hideous abominations lurking in jungles and marshes.

Yune-Wais pointed to the wall with a thin rod. The end drifted across the alien world as he spoke. His words were far away as Marshall watched the rod passing over vast regions of desert, grassland, mountains, tundra, and inland seas. It followed mountain ranges, impressive reliefs like those of elevation maps that stretched like spines in every direction.

"This is our monastery," Yune-Wais said. The rod stopped over a small circle labelled:'The Spring Rock Monastery' which lay more to the west side of the land. The monastery was a single named point within a tranquil grassland. To the west, a network of spiny mountains and rivers branched out in a sea of trees. The aptly named Great Forest faded into the unknown. Among the trees were animals and the snarling tribes of twisted monsters.

Relief washed over him to see where they were. The forest was some distance away. No dragons roared fire nearby, and no legions of twisted creatures assembled among them.

To the east, larger circled stars and dots depicted cities and kingdoms. Ms. Garfinkle read out a few names. Along the inland seas there was Israbridge, Tritos, Ayeving, Shroudcaster, Esamore, Almount's Gate, and Fougbay. The grasslands held Shirebourgh, Nirfmeadow, and the Serflands. The Jade Reach faded to the desert cities of Gol, Alamyid, and Tumbuk. Scattered among the mountains were holds named Mount Pical, Nirfast, Yuel Bolson, and Mas Klint.

"These lands are called 'beyond,' for they are left to the fringes of the civilizations to the east." Yune-Wais guided his stick back over a network of twisting waterways to the center-left of the continent, where large and small cities laid along rivers and bays. "Villages are all that survive the encroachment of the forest in this realm. Many conquerors have come to these lands over the ages. All have fallen or left."

Catherine and Theodore crossed to look with them. Arthur lingered for a moment where he had found a statue of two spheres within the lobes of a figure-8 track before following.

"This map has been constructed over centuries from the accounts of visitors and our own travels. As you can see, there is still much work to be done. It is the greatest failure of our monastery that The Great Forest, in size and feature, has remained unmapped." He pointed upward, guiding his hand from the monastery out to the west and north where the forest spread seemingly without end.

"Why?" Catherine said. Her eyes drifted over the map. Awe mingled with suspicion as they drifted over the obscured land.

"The forest has a will of its own, student," Yune-Wais responded. "Over here." He guided them to an adjacent wall, where a more detailed map of the forest was etched into another wooden block. "It grows and shrinks over the ages, devouring and letting go of land like the ocean tides. Over the last few centuries, we have seen a growing period unlike that ever recorded. Slow at first, and then far more rapid in recent memory. Tribes of beasts now dwell in areas that only a few generations ago were the realms of man. Our rangers are limited in how far they can travel within. The forest takes all who enter it, in time."

Catherine stared at this map. Her hand reached up to touch a spiny mountain, before following the range out into the obscurity of the forest.

"Master," Ms. Garfinkle began.

"Wait. One more thing. The boy found it a moment ago." Yune-Wais turned and crossed the room to where Arthur had found the spheres. "Our sky-seekers made this a long time ago."

"It's the solar system..." Arthur said, turning to Ms Garfinkle. She nodded, looking over the large blue sphere and the smaller red one.

Theodore's mouth hung open. He shook his head. "We're in a different solar system?"

"A binary one," Ms. Garfinkle said.

Yune-Wais reached out and touched the marble that laid where the figure eight connected between the two spheres. "This shows the path we take around Sola and Suna, the two sols," he said. "Sola is the winter star. Here, it is blue and larger than red Suna, but in truth, we do not know the true relative sizes." The monk slid the marble along where the track wrapped around the red sphere.

"We are at the end of the Procession now, when Sola releases us from the long winter dawn and we journey to the summer embrace of Suna. A summer where the days are short and hot, and our minds are disciplined to the land."

The marble rolled back around to where the two tracks ran over each other.

Yune-Wais stepped back as Arthur beckoned for the marble. His fair skin had lost any blemishes it once had, and his eyes reflected the color of the winter star. "A long winter. This star is larger, but not necessarily holding us as strongly. It is a blue star, usually the hottest type, but if it is called the winter star we must drift far out in our orbit. There is much more space to cover, so we will spend..."

"Maybe twice as long transiting Sola than Suna," Catherine said.

Arthur nodded a distant agreement, lost in thought as he slid the planet around its oblong figure eight track to rest back where they presently were in the orbit. "But how long in total?"

"Ah, you have taught your students well," Yune-Wais said to Ms. Garfinkle. "You possess knowledge that we do not. It becomes difficult to say how long the seasons are as the days pass differently, and from the way Sola transfixes us with its dawn light."

"What do you mean?" Arthur said, looking up to the wall.

The elder monk stood before the murals, his green eyes looking through them like they were a window. In one panel, a red light burned in the sky over a barren land. Snarling creatures, short and wicked, stood among tall brutes with twisted blades. A legion of bristling spears lay in the field beyond the monastery walls.

Yune-Wais' eyes were still somewhere far beyond the mural. "Blue winter is when the arcane breeze flows like a mountain's frost melt. It brings passion and art, but also danger." The monk regained some presence and turned back to them. "We are a peaceful monastery most of the time. We farm crops, hone artisan skill, and shepherd animals. But, in less peaceful times, we train to shepherd others as well. There are times when the armies come to raid and pillage, and we stand as sentinels, always ready to defend the small people here at the edge of the Great Forest."

"Armies..." Theodore muttered, looking to the next wall.

"Yes. The hordes of the wicked, student. The lands hide many in its fold."

Marshall followed Theodore's eyes as they scanned across the etched and burnt panels of wood. Armored berserkers with tusk-like teeth stood among a burning town. Blood dripped from their notched and broken blades. Short and wicked creatures laughed as they tortured men locked in small cages, and upright creatures with the heads of wolves tore men and women limb from limb. Dragons glided through a smoke filled sky over where a tall form stood on a hill, silhouetted by flashes of lightning and fire that rained from his hands. Shining over these hellish images was a sky that glowed blue with a pure dawn light.

Against the legions stood monks in billowing robes. They led simple men with rakes and hoes into battle brandishing gleaming steel weapons. Every robed figure looked to be a champion against evil. With Yune-Wais standing beside the mural, Marshall did not doubt these depictions to be accurate.

Theodore blinked. His eyes opened wider as the lull of this weirdest of days shook from him. "Nah. What? Where are we? How did we get here?" He turned to Ms. Garfinkle, getting louder as the others didn't react. "We're stuck in one of those nerdy fat dude worlds! Y'all remember Trips? He used to go on about dwarves and dragons and shit all the time even when people told him to shut up. I can't be here. I've got a big season coming up. I can almost touch rim, and my shot has been on point."

Yune-Wais looked at Theodore curiously.

"I don't think we have much of a choice." Ms. Garfinkle kept looking at the wood panels. A touch of sorrow painted her eyes as she realized she could do nothing for them. This world they had found themselves in, however it had happened, offered no other option. They were trapped in this strange land, in a world far from the one they came from.

"There are whispers among some that your arrival here is of the arcane," Yune-Wais said softly. "I see now this is true, and you are from an even stranger place than I could have guessed. This is a bad time for such an occurrence. There are many who have grown fearful. But, I believe it is the Way that you should have ended up here."

He looked at Theodore, and then to the rest of them. "I am sorry this has happened to you. But there is wisdom here that may help sort the matter out. Please do not fret, I would take you as my own."

Theodore shook his head again and stepped away. Marshall heard him mutter something about 'cheese-puff stained dorks.' His eyes drifted back up to the walls of wood paneling, where beasts snarled beneath the blades of the monks as they rose and fell in battle. Maybe Marshall imagined it, but the carvings seemed to move before his eyes: the monks taking the distinct form of Catherine, Theodore, Arthur, and himself as they waded into battle.

## Chapter 2: Suna

The unreality of the first morning was shattered with the deafening bang of a gong.

Protests filled the room over the ringing of the metal disk against the solid walls of their single room hut. The protests were silenced by a second ear splitting bang. Theodore had still not given up, his almost imperceptible mumblings prompting one final bang. Yune-Wais stood as serenely as ever in the early morning light while they rose to dress and cross the dew-covered turf to the water temple.

"Watch carefully, for you will do this from now on." Yune-Wais sparked flint and steel over a bundle of dry fibers. He blew softly until a spark ignited into a flame before pushing the bundle into a slot below the grill. "It is best if you always nurture hot coals in the grill."

Arthur rubbed at his eyes and looked around the pavilion. They had been relocated to the morning side of the Spring Rock, where the sun rose on the plains to the east. Arthur had spent several hours the day before studying the water temple beside their new home. Water flowed constantly through the fountains of a sink and the large stone pool in the center.

"Where does the wastewater go?" Arthur asked.

Yune-Wais began feeding larger wood chips into the fire. "Most waste water goes to the fields and paddies. Excess is collected in cisterns buried in the rock. Refuse water is composted with old grey pine carrying the red spores. Now, focus here."

Once the fire was steady, the monk pulled an iron wok from a hook overhead. He dipped the wok into a basin, and scooped rice in.

"A full stomach is essential. Fill, but do not stuff. Drink tea to help with digestion and to clear your vision." He placed a kettle on the grill beside the wok.

They ate at the long table in the pavilion as the red glow on the east horizon grew. Yune-Wais sipped at his tea and watched the sun appear while the students cleaned up.

"Summer is the season of labor," he said. "We retrain and rebuild after the reverie of winter. First, we learn to stand, and we purify the water passages."

He led them down to the base of the hill to a meeting ground. Three long pavilions lined a large courtyard of black stone. They were left at the tables with other younger monks as Yune-Wais went to the head pavilion. He took a seat beside an elder woman in white and other masters in their colorful robes.

Marshall looked around at the strange faces as more people filtered in. Children in cream colored tunics ran loose around the tables. Most of the kids his own age wore brown robes. They were all lean and had the clean and focused appearance like what Marshall always imagined private school kids looked like.

Private school kids, that is, from a world of some kind of anime. A young boy had orange eyes and bleach blonde hair, with deeply tanned skin like a tropical islander. The elder at the front sipped tea and smiled with the masters, her almond-shaped eyes crinkled around bright purple orbs. Almost everyone would be beautiful, but incredibly strange to see walking around the streets of Atlanta.

A girl a few seats down noticed them looking around. She leaned over and spoke to Catherine. "You are the students of Azera Magnus? How do you like the monastery so far?"

Catherine turned to the girl and looked at her with an expression that nearly made Marshall burst out in laughter. The girl looked like a cartoon come to life, with navy hair and eyes like Yune-Wais' leafy green. "It's cool," Catherine said.

"It should be getting hotter once the sun rises," the girl said. "I've heard Azera is a great scholar. You are fortunate to be her students, and we are fortunate to have you here."

"Thank you," Catherine said. "What is your name?"

"I am Miralda. And you are?"

"Ca... Kasia. Nice to meet you."

Miralda smiled and looked down at the others as the students introduced themselves.

"Such strange names. Forgive me for asking, but many have been wondering. Where are you all from? You look like a north lander," Miralda said to Arthur.

"My ancestors maybe. More recently we're from the south," Arthur replied.

"Mhmm. Yo ancestors should have stayed in the north," Theodore said.

"Come on," Arthur said, jabbing Theodore with an elbow.

Miralda giggled. "And you three, you must be from a very sultry place if you think it is cool here. And you are so dark! Are you from the Thunderbreak? Or the scholars of The Sojourners?"

Catherine looked over at Marshall.

"We are Sojourners," Marshall said.

"Fresh 'journin out of the ATL," Theodore said. "Our city."

"Oh, that is wonderful. I've never heard of... Ayetiel. My father says that the Sojourners are like honey-bees, wandering to spread their pollen of knowledge to the cities of the world. Well, since it is your first time here, just follow me. The training can be befuddling for strangers."

Smoke started to plume from temples along the hill. The elder in white rose as the smell like that of a coffee shop struck a note on the breeze. Everyone followed as the hum of voices died down, and the children were herded back from running around the courtyard. The elder looked out over the assembly. Her voice filled the space.

"Rejoice, all, and welcome. Visitors from the countryside, new acolytes, and beloved children of the monastery. Summer returns with the discipline of Suna."

Her voice grew louder, a touch of hardness entering. "Already, the displaced are joining us as the tribes rise in their hunger after the long winter. Some are here for but a season, to refuge for a time and bring their discipline back to their homeland. Others are here for life. Of a few, we cannot know."

Marshall felt the force of her gaze as the woman glanced over where he and the other three newcomers stood among the others. He was very conscious of how odd they must have looked.

"A strong land demands strong people. Strength of body and of mind. Ty-Leon, you have the floor."

A monk in red, an incredibly lean man with hairless and dark skin stood in wait as the elder sat down. His orange-amber eyes were hard as he barked out a loud command. "Hai!"

The older acolytes barked back. "Akai!"

Marshall followed Miralda as they assembled in the courtyard. She and the other brown-robed monks stood in a line before the monk in red. Marshall lined up behind them along with the visitors as the children were led away. Yune-Wais and the other masters began patrolling the columns. Marshall watched as they adjusted the stances of the students, and he mirrored the movements.

The monks passed by him, but stopped by Theodore.

"Hey!" He said as one straightened his back. "Back off!" Another monk yanked his arms into place.

"The branch that does not bend shall break," Yune-Wais said as he kicked one of Theodore's feet out an inch. "There. Remain like this."

"Each morning, you will assemble the same way," the monk in red said. "The same distance between those in front and behind you. Stand tall and light. Seek balance."

"Yes, Master Ty-Leon," the brown-robed monks fired back at once.

Suna rose higher as they stood in silence. The monks watched sharply, like snakes lying still before striking. The visitors, mostly rugged looking men in roughspun clothing, glanced around without moving. A younger one in the column over from Marshall shifted on his feet.

"Hai!" Yune-Wais called, rushing over. The young man looked around and bolted back upright. "Hai!" Yune-Wais yelled again, now almost in his face. The force of the yell was startling from the calm man.

"Akai!" The brown-robed acolyte at the front of the column called back, before he dropped to the ground into a plank. The confused young man looked around the line, and then to an older man in the line beside him. The older man must have been his father, and he spoke a quick two words that Marshall did not catch. Slowly, he lowered himself into the same position. The rest of the column followed as the monks all yelled. Theodore, standing in front of the young man, had already figured it out and was on the ground.

Marshall tried not to look around. An amused smile crept across his face at Draelo on the ground beside him. The column stayed in the plank as some of the students started to fall to the ground.

"Inability to keep your eyes forward is an issue of focus. So we make the mind stronger. Difficulty in maintaining posture is a problem of the core," Ty-Leon said. "So we make the core stronger!" At last, they were allowed to stand back up. Suna rose still higher. Marshall felt sweat start to roll down his back.

"Hai!" The yell came directly behind him.

"Akai!" Miralda called in front of Marshall, dropping to the ground. It was Theodore's turn to grin as Marshall dropped down with the rest of his column. He stared at the smooth stone of freckled black granite. The hard rock began to hurt on his arms, and his shoulders started to ache. The red sun grew hot on his back as sweat rolled down around his eyes. He didn't drop, though, and eventually they were allowed to stand back up.

For four hours this went on. Every column went down, once, twice, three times... Marshall had never stood so long in his life. He felt his legs shaking, and rising back up from the plank almost caused them to go out like cooked noodles.

After dropping once again, Theodore remained on the ground. The monk in red rushed over.

"Hai!"

"Man-"

"Hai! Get up! Now!"

Theodore turned his head and looked up. "This is bul-"

"Get up!" The monk planted a kick on Theodore's side, sharp, but not too hard.

"Hey!" Catherine called out. Marshall leaned to the side and watched, unsure of what to do.

"Get up! You are weak!" Ty-Leon yelled.

The children reappeared, their eyes low as they brought food to the tables around the courtyard. Some of them glanced up at the sight. The smell of stewed vegetables and broth mixed with sweat and hot dust.

Theodore peeled himself off the ground and rose back up, his chin angled up as he looked over his nose at the monk. Ty-Leon remained in his face. Slowly, he lifted his hand, the red robes loose over his arms. In a flash, he planted a palm on Theodore's chest, sending him flailing back to the ground on loose legs.

"Yune-Wais, you would bring this weakness here!"

Catherine jumped over. She reached down to help Theodore back up.

"Back in line! A man must stand on his own!"

"Let us calm ourselves," Yune-Wais said. "These are youths. They are only now beginning."

"We shall see how fresh their beginning is." Ty-Leon stared at Theodore for another moment before passing back to the front of the line.

For another hour, the old and young collapsed in the heat and then were pulled back up by the brown-robed acolytes better accustomed to this oddity. The monks stood among them, completely still and with neutral faces, until they pounced on any movement. The elder sat at her table and watched intently as she sipped tea.

Smoke again plumed from the temples. The call of the red-robed monk came and they were released for lunch. The elder smiled and spoke to them.

"Eat and restore your tired muscles. Work begins now. Return tomorrow."

Marshall moved stiffly over to the tables and sat beside Catherine before the others joined them.

"This is some bull-ish. If that guy steps at me again, Imma pop off."

"He knocked you down like last year's scarecrow," Arthur said, spooning a serving from the nearest pot into his bowl. "But that was some hard stuff. I'd rather play ten games of futsal than do that again. I am hungry."

Theodore fumed and shrunk in his seat. "It was stupid. What a waste of time."

"What did you think?" Miralda said bubbly, sitting down and spooning her own serving.

"I never knew standing could be so hard," Arthur said.

"That guys got a problem," Theodore said.

"Ty-Leon is a wise master. He is hard, but an anvil and hammer must be hard to make sharp steel. We begin slowly, so that the fundamentals are second nature, as he says."

Yune-Wais crossed the courtyard to them after they ate. The stone-like expression that he had on his face for the last few hours disappeared. "I see you have met Miralda. She was a pupil of mine, as you are now." He turned to Theodore. "Young Draelo, I hope you did not take that too harshly. Many find the first days difficult, but the fruits of discipline ripen very sweetly."

"He'll learn how to stand, sir. Even if we have to help him practice on our own time," Arthur said with a grin.

Yune-Wais nodded, not seeming to get the joke. "We still have many hours left for the day. Come."

He led them on tired legs along the rolling hill of the monastery. A woodsy smell hung in the air from the smoke. Catherine asked about this.

"We mark the days with incense. Smoke of the shi bean and green tea is for summer mornings. Then at noon, sunwood is burned with dried ki root. Brown incense of giants-slumber and fire-lilies marks the night. Other incense are used for winters and festivals."

"I had that idea when I was a kid. Sis, you remember the candle clock?" Draelo said with a flourish. "You knew what time it was because the candle would smell different."

"Who wants to leave a candle burning all day?" Arthur said. "And what if it burned at a different rate? The fragrances would mix!"

"Keep hating, bro and catch me stacking paper. The candle clock would have made millions."

Yune-Wais led them towards the top of the hill, accompanied by the aromatic smoke. Others made the climb from different paths, converging at a blue pavilion at the base of the black Spring Rock. Through the roof of the pavilion, water cascaded down into a pool. More people began to gather from the meeting ground. From somewhere, the children were brought back.

Yune-Wais spoke with the other robed masters before they closed a gate. Water rushed by stronger in another channel as the largest one ran dry, revealing the slick stone where algae and other grime lined the bottom and walls. The monks placed buckets and brushes at the edge as the brown robed youths herded the children in.

"We begin the season anew," a master in blue declared. Marshall followed with the others up and down the slimy channel. His legs were weak and sore, cramping when he stayed too long in one position. He scrubbed a wiped, filling bucket after bucket with the moss and algae as the sun disappeared over the other side of the Spring Rock, leaving them in a cooler shade.

Theodore grumbled along. At one point he snuck off to nap in the shade, getting an ear full from a passing monk. Yune-Wais spoke of the virtues of communal work as Theodore wound up back in the channel scrubbing at the wall.

It was hard work, and Marshall found it easier to shut his mind off and let the work take him away.

Night began to fall, and the older monks and children started to fade away. Marshall's joints were stiff when he stood up to climb out of the channel. They trudged back to their home in the cool night air filled with a sleepy-flowery aroma. That night, they peeled off their leather boots with raw and chafed hands. Hardly a word was spoken as Arthur carved a line in the wall over his bed. They laid down and found sleep quickly on the hard beds...

So the first of the red sunrises began. The bang of the gong awakened them to rise stiff and painful from bed. Yune-Wais awaited them for breakfast and tea. When the coffee-like incense rose with its light and earthy smell, the four gathered at the courtyard to stand beneath the rising sun. At noon, they climbed the hill to again crawl along the canals and haul the buckets of algae and moss to farm fields. At dusk, the group trudged back to their terrace and fell into bed beneath another tally mark. Dreamless sleep followed.

Coffee shop. Wood and grass. Sleepy-flowers...

When all the canals, ditches, and pipes were clear and water flowed freely through the monastery, they were then loaned out to the fields and temples.

They rose before the bang of the gong, finding Yune-Wais awaiting them in the twilight. They prepared breakfast and ate in silence before trudging down to the courtyard. The neutral stance turned into a 'horse stance,' where they sat back with their legs wide in a slight squat. Planks became deeper squats and pushups. Silence was broken by the soft, trancelike words of the elder, and the simple statements of the masters. After lunch, they were led to a field to pick rocks, clear weeds, and turn over beds of hard dirt. They pushed the dirt into tilled rows with aching arms, staining the handles of the hoes and shovels with blood from torn blisters. At dusk, they returned, Arthur marking another line in the talleys...

They rose to share a few words with Yune-Wais over breakfast. The columns began to move for the first time, mirroring the movements of Yune-Wais as they walked smoothly, turned, and walked back. They seeded the fields as Catherine made note of the crops, the familiar and foriegn. They repaired the levers and pumps that carried water from ditches to the fields. The temple stones were scrubbed and washed.

The talleys began to look like a picket fence across Arthur's wall. Blisters healed and new ones formed on hardened skin. They rose to make breakfast and eat as Yune-Wais told them more of the seasons and shared stories of the monastery and the world beyond. They followed the movements and commands of the masters, dropping into the horse stance to snap their tunics as they struck with their hands and feet.

At the wall, they tore down rotting logs and hauled them to the apothecary, and unloaded wagons of new logs to plant in the ground or drag up to the lumber mill.

The sun rose brighter on the horizon and burned hotter high in a sky that took on a more familiar blue color. Marshall found his hands tougher and the blisters more manageable as he laid down at night. Before long, he thought, they would be like baseball gloves.

One night, Arthur moved back to the left side of his wall to start a new row of tally marks. He scratched the line and sat down.

"You guys miss home at all?" The words interrupted the bedtime routine in their quiet hut.

Marshall leaned back against the wall as he tried to consider the question for the first time since the night before the gong had ushered them into a new life. Since that bang, his focus had been confined to a sore and aching body as it labored through the day. At night, when he would normally lay awake as his thoughts spun around, over and over, sleep came immediately to relieve him and the morning much too quickly.

But, he knew a question like that could not just disappear.

Catherine glanced over at her brother. Theodore hunched over on his shelf, rubbing a minty smelling ointment on his blistered feet. She gave the slightest shake of her head to Arthur.

"Yeah," Arthur said. He laid flat on the thin fabric of his bed and kicked his feet up. "I don't really either. It's hard to say, I mean, hard to admit that it doesn't bother me to leave my family behind. I miss my siblings. A few of them, at least."

"I guess it is nice having mine here," Catherine said.

Arthur laughed. "Not for the rest of us."

"Man, shut up." Theodore closed the jar of ointment. Pale bubbles of skin ballooned up where his feet rubbed against the leather boots. "Farm boy Johnny, you think this is funny?"

"A little. I've spent years in your world, but now you're in one closer to mine," Arthur said.

"Yeah and it's just as dumb as I always thought."

Arthur ignored him, throwing his arms behind his head. "I never realized how much I missed the farm. You'd think I wouldn't forget, given how much I hated the city at first. This kind of work takes me back to childhood. It feels right." He stretched and propped himself back up. "Not to mention the summer bod we're getting," he said, flexing his arms.

"Yeah, you a real Ronnie Coleman," Theodore mumbled.

Catherine laughed. Her and Arthur turned to Marshall. He tried to sort out the answer as his sore body settled in against the wall.

"I can't say I miss home," he said simply.

"Man, Marshall. You saying you're down with this Old Mac Donald crap, too?" Marshall could only shrug. Theodore shook his head. "This ain't real. The streets are real. The hustle is real. We're like that book Ms. Garfinkle made us read in English class. The one where that trippy white girl fell down into the bunny hole. Gangsters in nerdland. You know that, Marshall."

"Arthur isn't Ronnie Coleman, but he's not a beanpole anymore, either. The hustle is real enough if you've gone from looking like a JV point guard to the starting shooting guard in only... how long is it now?"

"Almost thirty days," Arthur reported as he and Catherine laughed.

"And this isn't Lewis Carroll and the Mad Hatter. Everything makes sense here, it's just different."

Theodore squished his face up. "Doesn't matter. No hoops here. No talking rabbits, but still a whole lot of nonsense." He looked up towards Catherine. She didn't look back. "Seriously, Cat, you're just going to sit there? We don't belong here, and you know it."

Marshall laid back. He had found it too therapeutic to have his mind shut off the last few weeks to do anything but listen.

"We belong just fine. More so every day," Catherine said.

"Uh, huh. It ain't going to last forever. Fantasies are just that: fantasies."

"Then why don't you shut your mouth and enjoy it while it's here, huh?" Catherine said. Marshall almost bolted back up to a sitting position. It was the first time he ever heard Catherine really snap at Theodore. "You're whinin' and moanin,' because why? You forced to do some actual work?"

"Nah, I work just fine. This just ain't real." Theodore bit his lip. "Wake up, girl."

"Mhmm. I gotta wake up now that it's you with blisters on your hands. Where was this indignation when it was only me having to work at the shake shack so you didn't have an excuse to stop going to school?"

"Yeah, whatever." Theodore laid back down and crossed his arms. Catherine did the same. After a stretch of silence, Arthur reached back and dimmed the lantern, causing the room to fall in near darkness.

Marshall laid on his back and looked up into the dark. "Me and Mikey used to read stories with places like this,"he said after a long silence. "Dwarves and dragons and shit, just like you said the first day, Theodore. He liked those best." The silence stretched on. Theodore uncrossed his arms. "I put all that away after he... after he died. It wasn't real. I couldn't handle the feeling of escaping to those fantasy worlds anymore, and then have to return to the real one."

"I didn't know that," Catherine said softly.

"I've never talked about it." Marshall squeezed his fist shut, the pain of the blisters like a hot blade on his skin. "I didn't want to accept this, either. But, these blisters are real enough. More real than the grease burns and busy work at school ever was."

"The blisters are real, right?" Catherine said to Theodore. "And you do look like a shooting guard."

Theodore turned towards the wall.

"Who knows. Maybe Ms. Garfinkle will find us a way home," Arthur said into the darkness.

Marshall laid awake longer than he had managed before, listening as the others breathed themselves off to sleep.

##  Chapter 3: Revelry

They awoke for the same routine. When breakfast had been cleaned up, and dense coals still burned in the grill, they savored the quiet moments until Yune-Wais was to usher them away. The monk sat quietly sipping his tea with the red glow on the horizon.

When Suna appeared over the grassland, he stood up. They slowly rose after him.

"Huzzah!" The monk declared, startling them in the quiet morning. He looked down over the hill. Blue smoke rose from the temples. "Rejoice, as our waters run pure, and the seeds take root in our fields at the start of the summer. Today begins the first days of revelry."

"Revelry?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, revelry," Yune-Wais smiled to them. "And you have made yourself more than deserving of participating with us. Come, come."

No hammers rang through the hills of the monastery, and no hoes disturbed the seeds lying in the tilled fields. The monks converged on the large open temples and courtyards as music played: the chords of stringed instruments, the calls of long and deep, or short and fluttery flutes, the rhythm of drums, and the angelic voices of verse, song, and poem.

Yune-Wais left them with Miralda, who showed them around the growing festival with a group of brown-robed youths.

They climbed about the terraces. Woven into the fresh summer air was an incense that smelled of quiet parks and reaped grass, joining the chords and voices of the music was the pitch of blades and staff as monks dueled on the turf fields in a vicious dance. They followed the brown-robed youths to rest their sore and aching bodies beneath the shade of trees and temples. At lunch, several of them led a tour to where the remaining food stores of winter were being cooked into huge dishes, each youth swearing that this or that master was the best cook. Around them, monks old and young broke open casks of wine, drinking and feasting. Elders in white or pale dyed robes gave speeches accompanied by music, telling the tale of the last seasons, and ones from long ago.

Marshall lounged beneath a pavilion as Suna left the morning side of the monastery in shade. An elder finished speaking about the previous winter, naming the newest masters, and the names of some of their own who had passed on from 'the material world.'

An old monk in grey rose after she finished. The music faltered as the tall and bent man stood over the table, and many of the masters glanced about or at the ground. One elder reached for him. The old man pushed her hand away and looked over the assembly, blue eyes gleaming through the scraggly grey hair on his face.

"Repent!" He yelled, the sound killing the music completely. "Repent and away with this revelry." His twisted finger pointed at a young master drinking from a wineskin. "You soak yourself in spirits as the Forest rises like the full-moon tide! You call yourself a master?"

"Elder Max-Kli, please," a woman said.

"You would interrupt an elder, Des-Ani? Shame!" The hairless and dark-skinned warrior, Ty-Leon, yelled at the woman. "Let him speak, for he speaks the truth."

"The truth!" The grey elder cried, his hands rising to the sky. "The truth as the arcane whispered through poor, diseased, Master Vos. Have you forgotten his terrible and fevered words already? The Forest rises, the arcane weaving some trickery upon us. We must repent for the blasphemers who have caused this corruption. You!"

His finger fell to a woman, the strangest of all the people in the monastery who they had seen that first morning. Ears, long and pointed, poked through her long silver hair. She sat among the musicians, a lute in her hand. Her golden eyes looked back at him without wavering above impossibly sharp cheekbones.

"Begone elven woman, a creature of the arcane as much as the festering monsters! Your very presence reeks upon my nose. It is an affront to natural man."

Two elders stood up beside him, white robes rustling around their calm forms. They raised a hand. The grey elder went on, turning right towards where Marshall and the others sat. "And you! Do not think I am fooled. I know not where you are from, but the arcane reeks upon you as well. I demand them gone. Heed this coming winter, we must prepare now!"

The two elders finally managed to contain the man. He brushed them off, turning to stride away. Ty-Leon took another glance around. The dark man was sharp and hard, a warrior always searching for a fight. He stared at the students, before following after the Grey Elder. The masters and youths turned to stare at the newcomers and the elf. Yune-Wais sighed from where he sat.

The gathering trickled away. The elders disappeared. As night fell, the younger monks broke out more casks of wine and beer. Miralda led them to the afternoon side of the monastery, where Suna was setting red on the horizon.

"My father said he thought you were otherworlders." She said quietly. Water trickled by in a channel, carrying her words off into the dusk.

"Who is your father?" Catherine said.

"Yune-Wais. He said he knew the moment he saw you."

Marshall didn't know what to say, but the way in which Miralda asked seemed only curious. "We are," he replied, prompting a sharp look from Arthur. "We don't know how we got here."

"What was that old guy's problem?" Theodore said. "It's not our fault we're stuck here in the world of witchcraft."

Miralda snorted and tried to hide a laugh. "Shh, shh. Max-Kli is an elder, and it is not my place to question him. He is a wise man of the Stoics, a very old order."

"Who are the Stoics?" Marshall asked.

Miralda continued on along the hill. "The masters say the arcane is like all energy, pure until it gives motion to the physical world. Energy simply is, whether it turns the stone of a grain mill or gives power to the swing of an orc's axe. The arcane breathes through the elves and gnomes and dwarves, and the goodly energy woven into art and music. But on the other hand, the arcane is responsible for evil beings and magics. Stoics believe that the arcane only interferes with the natural world, humans and animals, and that its energy should be destroyed."

"What do you think?" Catherine asked.

Miralda stopped along the path and looked up to the Spring Rock. "I've thought much about it myself. I do believe that men and other creatures are somehow more natural than other beings. But, I wouldn't want to live in a world without the arcane. Even if that meant no more goblins and dragons. I am a child of winter's dawn more than summer's labor."

Catherine nodded, and they kept walking. "The Stoics would like the world we come from," she said. "There are only men and 'natural' creatures. But the..."

"Arcane," Marshall said.

"Yes, the arcane. If it is the feeling I think it is, I would not want to go back to a world without it," Catherine finished.

"If your world is as you say, you should speak to the stoics. Tell them how it is. Many would be interested," Miralda said. She led them to a fire where others were gathering.

The monks eyed them for a moment and continued their murmured conversation. Marshall lowered himself onto the damp ground and looked up at the night sky. Slowly, with time, he could finally see it. The sky began to bleed with watered colors revealing shimmering webs of nebulas clouded in a brilliant field of stars. Marshall felt his tired mind reawaken with a fury. He glanced around the fire at the beautiful faces of the young monks beside his friends. Some threw suspicious glances their way, but as the spirits were passed around, these looks faded.

A girl drank from a wineskin and strummed a lute, her song dripping with sorrow as it told of a fiendish tribe that fell upon a farm.

The farmer took up his steely sword, his son an old yew bow. They met the fiends at night and returned to the soil as the fathers who came before. The girl wandered the plains alone, until she saw a tower-ing black rock.

Marshall listened as the words took shape. He saw the farm and farmer. He saw the twisted and snarling faces of the beasts. He saw blood falling to the soil. He saw a young girl alone among the tall grasses, a spire of black granite far on the horizon.

* * *

They awoke the next morning before dawn. Yune-Wais was nowhere to be seen, but cuts of red meat wrapped in paper awaited them on the pavilion table. The smell of beef and rice soon filled their temple along with the trickle of water.

"Man, I feel good," Arthur said as he pushed his plate away and leaned back. "I think we should probably make ourselves scarce for the day and let them sort out whatever that grouchy geriatric was yelling about. What do you guys say we go on a little trip?"

Catherine hummed. "It would be nice to get away. I bet we could run clear to the ridges, and maybe even see the edge of the forest."

Theodore picked his plate up and went over to the fountain. "I was looking forward to another chill day," he said.

"Come on, don't you want to explore?" Arthur said. When Theodore only grunted, he turned to Marshall. "What do you think, Marsh? Go for a little run?"

Marshall nodded.

Arthur cleaned up the breakfast quickly as Catherine packed a bag of bread rolls and the hard cheeses the monks used for travelling. After a brief stop to see Yune-Wais, they circled through the monastery as music started playing once more.

They found the afternoon side of the monastery, where the Spring Rock cast a long shadow until noon, was still quiet.

The western gate opened to a road stretching on in the long shadow towards the horizon. They started at a light jog, traversing the rolling stretches of land beneath the rising sun. When the road turned north, they broke away and worked up to a faster pace over the open ground.

Marshall counted the paces. Four times he counted to a thousand when Theodore began to fight him for the lead. Aside from some light panting, none of them showed any signs of slowing down.

He lost his count as the rolling hills turned to rifts of hard rock. The grassland began to look like it had been torn up by a construction site, with desolate land of red earthen scars and brush running into short valleys.

They finally stopped as the last valley swallowed them up and showed no sign of ending.

"It looks like the Grand Canyon," Arthur said. Steep walls of red and orange rock rose over them, closing in a dry riverbed of strewn boulders and scrub covered gravel.

Theodore laughed as he caught his breath. "Of course you've been to the Grand Canyon."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Arthur said.

Theodore followed his sister over to the shorter wall to the right. "Probably packed a van full of PB and Js and some gameboys and headed on a good ol' Chevy Chase road trip."

Marshall couldn't help but laugh. Arthur turned to him and then over to Catherine, who was reaching for a grip on a rock overhead. She looked straight up the wall, hiding a grin.

"What does that even mean?"

Catherine grabbed hold of the rock and pulled herself up. She began scaling the cliff, with Theodore following close behind. Marshall walked past Arthur and took hold of the first handholds.

They sat at the top of the cliff and ate lunch below the noon sun. The land before them rolled on, rock and scrubby cliffs rising over deep red and orange gouges in the ground.

Arthur chewed on a roll and stared at Theodore who almost recoiled as he tried to bite into a chunk of hard cheese. "I bet you'd like a PB and J right now, huh? And a gameboy, too."

Theodore rolled the cheese back up and put it in the bag.

Catherine took the lead through the barren scrublands. They tread lightly as the loose rock threatened to spill away beneath every step. They leaped across narrower trenches, or climbed down and back up wider valleys. Mountains rose on the horizon, covered in trees and steep grey rock.

Distracted by the view in the distance and the rough ground they navigated, Marshall almost tripped as Arthur stopped in front of him and called out.

"Smoke. Over there," he panted, stopping.

They stopped and scanned the horizon. Their path had been due west. Further to the north, a plume of dark smoke rose in the air.

Arthur scanned the rest of the area around. "Let's check it out," he said.

"I don't know," Catherine replied. "We don't know what's out here."

"What's it hurt to take a look?" Theodore said. When Catherine didn't seem to budge, he jostled her. "Come on, sis. You chicken?"

"I'm not chicken. I just think we should be smart."

"We'll go slow. It looks like the smoke is coming from lower ground. We can just take a peek and get back," Arthur said. He leaped across to the other side of a narrow chasm. "Come on."

Catherine looked to Marshall. He shrugged. "Let's just move slow."

They ran on close together, trying to stay to the highest points. When the land dipped, Catherine and Marshall watched from the crests while Theodore and Arthur crossed through the valleys, or navigatted steep ridges.

The final stretch led them to a dry valley. Flash floods had torn the land into fissures as water ripped through, leaving boulders and trees strewn across the flint and clay ground. On the far side of the main channel, the smoke rose in a few small plumes.

Theodore and Catherine scaled the wall first, and then beckoned the other two to follow. Marshall started up the wall, the sound of guttural whoops and calls nearly freezing him before he made it to the top.

"It sounds like a pack of hyenas trying to speak Dutch," Arthur whispered beside him.

They slid over the edge. Marshall stopped to listen closer as Arthur creeped past Catherine and Theodore, towards the far edge. Marshall craned his neck up higher.

From the ridge, he could see a collapsed cliff on the far side of the valley, where sharp rocks spilled down in a long landslide to a dry riverbed

Arthur laid down and looked over the edge. He recoiled, turning back with wide eyes to beckon them forward. Marshall crawled up beside him. It took him a moment to piece together what he was looking at.

Across the valley floor was something like the remains of a homeless camp after a police raid. Twisted forms hunched in front of smoky fires of deadwood and crackling brush. The grey smoke mingled in the air with the smell of burning meat and the odor of the creatures themselves: a thick pungent aroma like a broiling middle school locker room.

Pools of putrid green water were all that remained of the riverbed. Marshall watched as one of the creatures squatted down and relieved itself in one, feces plopping to splash the water right beside where others were bent down on all fours to take a drink.

Arthur seemed to stiffen up. His blue eyes were sharp with a disgusted fascination. Theodore snuck up to the edge beside him, peeking over with Catherine following behind.

Tattered hides hung from branches of deadwood, sheltering some of the creatures who slept right on the hard ground. All of them shared a dull skin color like that of rust and dog vomit. The adult males were potbellied and lean. Each carried a spear, nothing more than sharpened sticks or bone, which they randomly shook or even struck each other with.

As they watched, a fight commenced that resulted in seven of the creatures ganging up to beat another one into the ground. The women snarled and whooped at the scene as their bulbous noses snorted. The battered form remained bleeding on the ground like a pile of loose garbage.

"Look over there," Catherine whispered, pointing across the valley. A madly spasming creature stood perched atop a boulder. Over the bestial cries and whelps of the others, it's own nasally voice rose to the sky as it waved a twisted staff over others who lay prostrated below him.

Unlike the others, its skin shimmered with a dull purple where red tattoos and ragged hide did not cover it. They had all hardly taken a good look before its jerky movements brought its head around towards the top of the cliff. Marshall found himself looking right into the creature's slitted yellow eyes.

A rock scuttled away behind them, breaking Marshall away from the scene. He turned around to see two of the creatures in torn hide vests nearly upon them.

"Hey!" Marshall called out. He shot to his feet, clutching a sharp stone. The others turned, causing the two sneaking goblins to stop and begin screaming. Marshall whipped the rock at the lead one. The stone struck the creature in the chest, causing it to recoil and slap at the streak of blood that began to drip down its front.

Arthur jumped forward, a much larger rock in his hand. The two goblins screamed in their horrific language as one lunged forward with it's stick at Arthur. He grabbed the point and ripped it from the creature's hand, slamming the rock down into its face. A dull crack proceeded the spray of blood as it fell back to the ground. Marshall watched the dark drops fall to the ground and onto Arthur. He glanced back over the surging tribe of goblins, the yellow eyes glittering at him across the valley. The eyes bled him of his energy, a low dread freezing his body.

"Lets go!" Catherine yelled as the other goblin backed away. A scream of those strange Dutch-hyena words rang out over the valley behind them. Marshall snapped away from the yellow eyes.

The whoops and war calls of the goblins rose. The one on the ridge followed to the edge after them, leaping around above throwing rocks down.They hit the valley floor and fled, moving across the ground much faster than before as rocks fell around them.

When they were well into the grasslands again, Theodore let out a nervous laugh through his panting. They slowed down to a light jog, though none of the others laughed with him. Not even Arthur, who pressed on with his jaw clenched.

"All those big muscles came in handy. You cracked that thing's head like a melon," Theodore said.

"Shut up," Arthur said. Dried and dark blood covered his tunic.

"What's your problem, man. They were like three feet tall."

"Those were human bodies they were eating," Arthur spat.

Marshall had seen it, too. Mixed with the skewered rabbits and birds was the undeniable form of two severed limbs and a torso burning on spits over the smoky fires.

"Those things were..."

"Unnatural," Catherine finished. "Like Miralda said."

Arthur nodded.

Suna laid a few hands above the western horizon when the road led them back into the monastery. Yune-Wais sat by the gate. Music filled the air from a terrace up above. Three monks whirled blade-tipped spears in a dance of gleaming steel and flowing silk. Their teacher said nothing as they joined him, only waited as he looked over Arthur's blood-splattered tunic.

"Goblins," Arthur said. "They were horrible."

Yune-Wais nodded, and listened as they described the scene. When they finished, he said nothing other than to beckon another young monk passing by. Marshall recognized the youth from the training grounds.

"Levin, would you please find Master Rylan and relay to him that a tribe of goblins have been spotted in the borderlands. Fifteen miles due west, one mile north."

Levin nodded and ran off along the path that wrapped around the base of the hill. Yune-Wais rose and beckoned them to follow.

They climbed the walkways to his terrace and crossed the courtyard to his water temple. The master sparked a fire to life in his grill. "You found these creatures offensive, Arthus?" He said over a shoulder.

The fascination from earlier no longer remained. Marshall saw a rare anger, an outright disgust on his friends face. "Yeah," Arthur responded.

"Hm," the master hummed, placing a kettle over the grill. "What of you, Kasia?"

"Animals are sometimes offensive," she said. "But they are still natural. Those things were not."

The master hummed again. The kettle began to whistle. He took it from the grill and brought it over. Yune-Wais stood at the head of the pavilion table as he poured five cups. "What else did you see with the creatures?" This question, he directed at Marshall.

Marshall could still see it all. Just behind his vision, yellow-slitted eyes burning with a primal fury stared at him. That cold dread still soaked him like a curse. "A staff-wielder with a different skin color as the rest of them," Marshall replied. The fury held something behind them he did not see in the others. "Much smarter than the others. A shaman."

Yune-Wais took a sip from his cup.

"They were scary, but looked weak," Theodore said.

"They were eating people," Arthur said.

Yune-Wais nodded again. "The beasts are savage and hungry in the summer," he said. "But I am pleased you were able to witness this and return with your lives. Perhaps, now, you understand the passion of Elder Max-Kli. Miralda told me what she shared with you about the Stoics. It is true, I have felt the odd nature of your presence since I first met you and Azera Magnus. I understand that the way of your home world provides a unique understanding."

"I understand... But I still don't agree," Catherine said.

"They were eating people," Arthur said again. The words were like a hammer striking a nail.

Yune-Wais hummed again. "It is no simple question. The arcane is life. It is art and power, magic that reached across worlds to bring you here. It is woven into the Way. But if it should be dampened, would the life of men improve? That is the question."

"People act just as savagely in our own world," Marshall said quietly.

Arthur banged the table. "They don't roam around eating each other!"

"Like hell they don't," Theodore exclaimed. "But at least with the goblins, they ugly and don't act like what they ain't. Back home, a man will smile while he's plotting how to cut you off."

Yune-Wais poured more tea and listened to them talk. Down by the western gate, a man with raven black hair in leather armor gathered other warriors. They mounted horses and set off towards the sunset, steel weapons and armor glistening in the red light.

The students returned to their hut. After bathing and a small meal, they went back out for the last night of revelry. Marshall found himself hanging songs of the monks. A shiver went down his spine at the tales of warriors ripped limb from limb by trolls. He watched as his friends crowded in closer to the fire.

The horsemen came back shortly after the rise of Suna the following day. Two dead men hung from the saddle of a horse behind them. The elders converged on the bloody and battered warriors whose faces were darkened in soot and dirt. Weapons hung at their back or on the side of the horses. The leader, the armored monk with raven-black hair and sharp steel eyes, unmounted his horse and carried a leather bag towards an unfamiliar temple. Elders and masters converged on the temple. The doors closed behind the master in red, Ty-Leon, and the elder Max-Kli. A lone plume of red incense rose in the monastery.

The festival of revelry ended with two funeral pyres.

##

##  Chapter 4: Sky Pond

After the summer festival, work commenced to lull the monastery back into its routine. Marshall found the labor becoming easier, and soon, even tedious. The morning training turned into the slow movements of something like yoga, but much more strenuous. This was not led by Ty-Leon, but by a Master Des-Ani, the woman who spoke against the Grey Elder.

At night, the four found themselves having more time as they adjusted. They used the new free time to explore the many temples of the monastery and visit more with Ms. Garfinkle. Their teacher spent her time crawling the libraries of the temples, learning the languages as she studied to understand their new world. Her eyes had once again grown weary.

Something in the air had shifted since the warriors returned from tracking the goblins. As the students began to explore, more monks began looking at them with suspicion. Ms. Garfinkle had little to offer about what was going on.

Not long after the encounter with the goblins, they rose for the day's work and found Yune-Wais waiting for them outside for the first time since the day of the festival beginning. He spoke to them as they prepared breakfast.

"You've now been here for a hundred rises of the Summer Sun. We have all been watching your development over that time. I, myself, am very satisfied. Today is the day you begin training."

"What is it we've been doing?" Theodore said, yawning as he shook the wok, steam rising from the sizzling rice and vegetables.

"Our way is not one of mere survival. Many forget our order is in that which flourishes life. Today, you pass from sojourner to a monk, an acolyte of our order. If you make it, you will be given the brown robes to apprentice with the masters to learn a trade of your own."

Theodore let out a long whistle. "Yeah, except a style change won't make everyone not hate us."

"That means we'll start learning how to use weapons," Arthur said.

"You shouldn't be excited about that. Imma put the smack down on you."

Yune-Wais carried the calm smile so at home on his face. At many times, Marshall felt certain the monk had little idea what any of them were talking about, but the lack of understanding never seemed to threaten or irritate him. Even with no hint of annoyance, Marshall could detect a more serious focus on the master's face today.

"Don't worry about that yet. Focus on the day ahead. Go about your duties, and meet me at the Elder's Pool at the time of the orange incense."

So it went. They milled about the communal terraces, hauling buckets of water and clearing dirt from the canals. Arthur and Marshall were called to a mill to help replace a water wheel.

At the time of the orange incense, when Suna blazed directly over the Spring Rock, they gathered to climb the paths leading to where a gentle waterfall fell from the afternoon side of the rock into a blue temple.

A harsh voice upset the lonely path with its trickling channel of water. They stopped.

"They are not to make the climb. Their very arrival is corrupted with winter's arcane trickery."

"I hear your concerns as I have since the first morning after the Procession. I feel no evil in their presence," Yune-Wais' voice carried down.

"The evil is all around, and it is only growing. Harboring otherworlders is one act, but allowing them to touch our waters is poisonous."

"Master Ty-Leon, certainly your fear of the arcane makes you wiser of it than I. You know even in great evil there must be balance. Is it not prudent to hone what could be that balance?"

"I know no such thing when the forest is growing so. Imagine a lowly shaman who can command orcs to its cause in summer! Two of our warriors are dead from the ambush. I refuse to allow it. I, and the Grey Elder!"

"Enough!" Yune-Wais boomed. "We must all do what we feel is right. Come with arms or leave, for they will make the climb."

Silence stretched on as the water trickled by. The blue pavilion sat beneath the fall at the base, a few dozen feet above them. The second voice returned.

"You would welcome the aura of evil to endanger us. Hear me, for I name your actions cursed, and you, I name a blasphemer!"

Ty-Leon appeared over the edge of the path. He looked down at them, his dark face harsh and fierce. Marshall felt his blood heat up as the warrior's amber eyes skewered him. Ty-Leon jumped down onto the slope and walked straight down the hill away from them.

Master Yune-Wais sat at a bench before the largest pool they had yet seen in the monastery. The stone bath looked to Marshall like an infinity pool with slightly too much water, with the overflow streaming over a carved stone wall. It ran through the channel below, a sheen of glass over the white stone.

The master greeted them, calm as ever. "This is your first time here at the Elder Pool?"

They nodded, unsure of what to say.

"Come sit with me, students. It is time you learn of our gift." Yune-Wais waited for them to sit with him beside the pool. The sound of tumbling water filled the blue temple pavilion.

"The waters of the spring are sacred as they pour down the rock face. The further they travel from here, the more impure they become." Marshall felt the heat of Ty-Leon shake off as he became lost in the sound of the water. For a moment, he felt it was one single entity flowing from the fall, to the pool, and out down the hills. Yune-Wais' poetic voice made such a feeling simple.

"It is the lifeblood which powers our forges and mills and irrigates our fields. We drink and clean ourselves from them. These pools preserve and gather them for one more moment as they fall. This is why it is sacrilege to touch the waters when they are in a gathering pool. Most of all, this pool, which catches the water of the Elder's Fall."

He paused again. The sounds of the monastery did not travel this far up the hill, leaving them alone.

"But they are not purest, even here. The purest water is at the top, where the Sky Pond lies tranquil. Every monk must see this for themselves, so that they know where the life of our commune comes from and can better appreciate the gift we have been given."

Yune-Wais rose and walked through the end of the blue pavilion to the black wall of the Spring Rock. The Elder's Fall wore the slightest channel as it fell down. He looked up the slick rock face and turned back to them. His eyes were heavy.

"The climb is dangerous. It takes strength and agility, both of the body and mind. I believe you are ready, but more than a few who were not have fallen. This is the only time you may touch the waters directly from the Elder's Fall, and as you do, the efforts of your climb will flow through to our elders, and thus, our whole community."

Marshall looked up the fall. Where before it had looked smooth, he could now see rough rivulets and natural handholds on the wet stone.

Master Yune-Wais returned to the center of the pavilion. "I leave you to it. When I see you again, you will be one of us. Eat from the fruit of the Sky Pond Tree. It will give you strength for the descent."

"Wait," Arthur said. "What was that all about?"

Yune-Wais looked down at the pool. "Take heed and be swift, otherworlders. For something is upon us." He shuffled off, leaving them alone in the temple.

They sat on the benches around the pool, staring upward. Their eyes drifted higher and higher up the immense granite monolith.

"He must be play'n with us," Theodore finally said.

"I'll go first." Catherine rose and strode over to the waterfall. She pulled her shoes and tunic off, folding them beside the bench. Slowly, she reached out.

Theodore's voice stopped her. "Did you not hear that? We shouldn't go."

Catherine turned back. The fall cascaded down behind her. "I heard Yune-Wais say we should," she said.

Theodore shook his head. "I said it. We don't belong. We shouldn't be doing this, I mean, look at that climb! Take your fantasy goggles off for a minute. Does that even look possible?"

Marshall stood up from the bench and walked over to the fall. He stood beside Catherine. Their eyes went up the shining rock.

"We need a consensus," Marshall said.

"If anyone doesn't commit, they will die," Arthur agreed.

Theodore stomped around by the pool. "Y'all are crazy. We will die. This isn't real."

"You're the crazy one if by now this still isn't real enough for you, Theodore," Arthur said. "Yune-Wais said to be swift. I think I can see why."

They crossed over to the other end of the pavilion where Arthur stood. Still far down the path, a group of monks were running up towards the temple. Ty-Leon led them, wielding a staff.

"Theodore, we have to go!" Catherine said, crossing back to the fall.

Theodore cursed and hesitated by the edge, watching the monks running towards them. Finally, he turned away. "Let's go. No telling what that guy plans on doing."

Catherine's hand reached out to touch the water streaming down. She took hold of a knot in the rock, her shoulder and arm muscles straining as she lifted herself to the next. Water poured over her as she pulled herself tight to the rock face to fight back against the stream.

Marshall jumped up next, following her same path. His height and longer limbs found a few more cracks and handholds here and there, but Catherine maintained her initial start on him. Arthur and Theodore were close behind.

The booming voice of Ty-Leon called after them. Marshall looked down to where the roof of the temple laid a few dozen feet below. Monks stood around it, looking up at them.

"Halt this instant! You threaten us all by touching our waters!"

Far down the path, Yune-Wais stood alone on a small bridge. He looked up at him as his orange robes fluttered in the breeze.

Marshall turned away and climbed on.

The voice died away as the red sun peeked over the edge of the rock, blinding him when he looked straight up. The first few hundred feet took hours to navigate, with Suna beginning to turn the shining fall blood red. Marshall focused on the granite, each handhold having to be checked for integrity and gripped solidly. He found the first breakpoint and shook his arms out before looking back down.

Theodore and Arthur were suspended over the blue postage stamp of the pavilion far below. Around the temple, the monks still stood about like small points. Theodore clung to the rock like a spider, and Arthur's arms looked like they were swelling to burst as his hands gripped a small handhold.

Marshall felt his feet lighten on the ledge, the spread of the monastery rolling away like a quilt. He closed his eyes with the image burned in his mind as white spots came over his vision. The pain of his hands, ripped blisters that burned as the raw skin scraped against the rock, drove the image deeper into his mind before it fell away.

He wondered if anyone had ever drowned while making the climb at El Capitan. The amusing thought helped with the vertigo. He glanced up to where Catherine stood on a cliff higher up, the stream running down to the left. She leaned back against the dry rock face with her palms outstretched beside her, facing the red star falling on the horizon.

Marshall shook each of his limbs out again, holding on firmly to a small knob in his left arm before wedging his right hand deep into a crack. He took each hold one at a time, fighting to not look down again, only looking up occasionally to see if Catherine had moved. She stayed on the ridge, and he steadily gained some distance up the rock face.

Some time later he checked again, seeing her right above him. Suna glowed red in her brown eyes, making them look like molten bronze against her dark skin.

"It'll be night soon." Marshall pulled himself up beside her on the ledge. It stretched about ten yards across the rock face, flat as a shelf.

"Look up." Her eyes stayed focused on the horizon, where a blaze of clouds met the great expanse of forest and faded over the edge of the world. He glanced down first, checking the progress of Arthur and Theodore. With a solid ledge under his feet, he was better able to process the two forms clinging to the rockface, his friends suspended over nothing but open air.

Arthur and Theodore picked their way up the same tired foot and hand holds, with Arthur forced to be a bit more selective given his size. Marshall drifted his eyes up over the ledge. He couldn't make the climb for them, and watching would only stress him out. Kasia... or Catherine, must have thought the same thing.

He turned into the rock and leaned out, digging his bleeding fingers into small cracks as he stretched to see what Catherine wanted him to see.

The rock face bulged outward slightly some thirty feet above. Beyond that it seemed to level out. He could make out a layer of gravelled rock and twists of roots running up against the edge of the cliff.

"Almost there."

Catherine nodded. Marshall calmed down enough from the strain of climbing to turn towards the horizon. He shuffled over closer to her. Every one of his muscles ached and felt like tight cords pulling on his bones. Catherine's hands were even bloodier than his.

The entire land sweeping to the west of the monastery laid before them. Rolling grass plains faded into more scraggly, rocky terrain that then became the hills and valleys guarding the beginning of the Great Forest. It rolled along the land like a turbulent ocean turned suddenly to stone, with forested mountains and tall, wide, hills dominating deep nested valleys. They could not see far beyond the first major rise, but even so the sense of the real size of the aptly named Great Forest delivered as promised.

"How do you think we got here?" Marshall said.

Catherine pursed her lips. "Something to do with the book," she responded simply.

They stood there for a long time in silence. The sun fell more, smearing a bleeding red across the sky along its descent as if it were truly dying.

He glanced down again, another feeling of vertigo setting in. Marshall did not panic, only set his feet solidly and went with the dizziness.

An image flashed in his swirling mind.

For a moment, he was standing in the forest. The vast expanse of ancient trees stretched out beyond him in every direction. Dim rays of blue light found a path through the canopy overhead. Then, he stood on a mountain pass. Arthus held a glowing shield against a legion of twisted humanoid creatures, a mace burning in his hand. Draelo slid along a cliff overhead, daggers strapped to his black robes and leather armor, guarding Kasia who struck forth arrows from a lurching bow of wood and horn.

Marshall looked down at his own hands. He knew that something was about to happen. An energy unlike any he had ever felt before seemed to surge through every fiber of his being. He began to lean forward, his left knee buckling where he stood. The feeling built until it could fill him no more. Just as he thought he may burst apart, thunder boomed in the mountain valley as lightning flashed brighter than the sun in his eyes. A boy called out as the roots of a massive tree devoured him. His knee buckled more.

Kasia grabbed him as his foot slipped off the ledge. She ripped him back against the wall and held her arm over him.

Mars brought his head back against the cool rock. The energy that surged faded away, leaving him weary. By the time he felt sturdy again, Arthus climbed up onto the ledge. The sun lay half devoured by the forest on the horizon.

"We made the sunset." Arthus' big wet feet clip-clapped closer along the ledge. He shook his own arms out, his long hair spraying water on them like a shaking dog. The veins beneath his sun-tanned skin looked like they were going to burst.

"They going to kick us out," Draelo said as he pulled himself up and took a breath. He leaned out, looking over at his sister. His voice was deeper than that of the boy Marshall had known. Young eyes looked out over the view from an older face. "You want that, though, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Kasia's voice fluttered back. The voice was calm and self-assured.

"They're gonna send us out there, and I'm bettin' you want to go."

Arthus turned into the rock face and inspected the path above them. "You don't know that." He leaned out, clinging to the rock.

"Yeah I do. We're free scale'n this holy rock right now, aren't we? You think we'll come down and all will be good?" Draelo pointed off where the red star hung just above the mountains in the distance.

"We don't need to worry about that yet. We need to worry about getting right there." Arthus looked around the bulge to the cliff above. "The view will be better, and I don't plan on doing this part in the dark. Mars, there's a good hold over your head."

Mars kept his eyes closed, reaching up overhead to the crack Arthus had pointed out. He still had some strength left. He held onto the crack and turned around to face the rock.

"I'll spot ya. Get up there." He felt Arthus' hand rap on his shoulder. Slowly, he lifted himself up. Both of his hands could fit on the crack, with the next best hold a few feet overhead. "I need a boost."

Kasia turned away from the sun. Her and Arthus held their hands up to meet Mars' foot. He pushed off of them, lurching upward towards the next crack. From there, a series of boulder holds allowed him to move around the slight bulge of the cliff. Arthus came next, his large frame needing the most help from the other two. Then came Kasia, and finally Draelo, who scrambled up after them.

The group sprawled out on solid ground for the first time in hours. Arthus and Mars moved far back from the cliff, while the siblings laid with their legs dangling over the edge, feet open to the spread of the monastery far below. Arthus broke into one of his deep belly laughs.

"What is so damn funny?" Draelo pulled himself back from the cliff and stood up. The stream of Elder's Fall ran along beside them before plunging over the edge. The rest of the climb before them consisted of a few walls and spires. Mars thought they looked like playground rock walls compared to the Elder's Fall.

Arthus put on a serious face. "'The efforts of your climb will flow through the community. These waters are sacred.' I don't know about y'all, but I might have pissed myself a few times back there." He smiled, revealing the skinny soccer forward from before.

Kasia smiled and stretched her arms out, basking in the last rays of the sun.

"Man, what is wrong with you? This guy be going on about the holy waters, and the whole time you're sittin' there like: 'yeah I'm gonna be peein' myself in them?'"

"Eh, he can't be the first one. Yune-Wais said some people have fallen, and you know what they say about what happens to your bowels when you die," Kasia said, standing up. Draelo put his hands to his mouth, making a loud farting noise. She walked past them towards the first wall, vaulting over it.

"The lady says 'go.'" Arthus followed.

Mars and Draelo came behind him.

Darkness was upon them by the time they made it over the last obstacle. The path of Elder's Fall had disappeared some time ago, but they came across increasingly large pools as they climbed.

Kasia caught the first sight of the Sky Pond. Pulling herself over a final wall, she looked out over the flat peak of the Spring Rock.

Mars rose up beside her. The pond spread across the summit for a little less than a football field in length. The shape of it was a near perfect circle, smooth glass that reflected the sea of stars and brilliant nebulas that were beginning to appear across the night sky. At the center of the lake, a tree rose on a thick nest of gnarled roots. The white blossomed branches swept down like a great willow, touching lightly at the surface of the water.

"It is something," Arthus said. "I could use a swim after that climb." He pulled his tunic and pants off, folding them up on the flat platform. The granite was worn into smooth shelves, like a quarry. Arthus stepped down a level from them, standing knee deep in the water. Even in the night they could make out his fair skin clearly beneath the surface.

Draelo did the same, stepping beside him. By the time Kasia stepped in, the other two had gone in deeper, wading out further than they could stand. Mars stripped his clothes and followed after. They swam out towards the center, each movement rippling the night sky lying on the velvet surface of the water. They drank from the clear water as they went, each competing for the deepest dive to get a taste as close to the source as they could.

Arthus reached the tree, cursing into the night as he struck his knee on a rock. A spire must have risen out of the center of the pond, ending just below the surface. The tree's roots arched and spread out in a huge area around the base, living off the salts and minerals dissolved from the granite. Kasia and Mars broke through the surface from their last dive in the midst of the drooping branches. Budding white and silver flowers drifted down around them as the branches danced in the breeze.

"The fruit is up towards the top." Draelo laid on his back in the water. He sprayed a mouthful of it into the air like a fountain. "It'll be a bit of a trick gettin' up there."

Mars saw what he meant. The trunk of the tree was smooth, white, and branchless until it peeled apart about forty feet up. The fruit clustered like fat grapes down the top part, ending a dozen feet before the thin branches neared the water.

Kasia found a rock to stand on and approached the tree, clamoring over twists of roots thick enough to be small trees themselves. She made it to the base, standing beside it in a small pool nestled in the roots. The white of the tree glowed in the night. Mars could see her dark hand clearly against the pale bark as she touched the trunk, feeling around the base for something to grab onto. He, Arthus, and Draelo floated around on their backs as she started scaling up the trunk.

"How deep y'all think this goes?" Draelo swam out away from the island, into the sweeping branches.

"I must have dived at least thirty feet. I didn't see or feel anything," Mars said.

"I bet we could make some kind of hose out of reeds or something. What if we found the source?" Arthus dipped beneath the surface, coming back up moments later a few feet closer. "Yeah, she goes for a good minute."

"I feel like it's one of those mysteries best left unsolved," Kasia called from the top of the tree.

"There is no such thing," Arthus called back. "How does a spring just bubble out of a granite monolith in the middle of these plains? That doesn't seem strange to you?"

"Of all the things... Arthus we listened to a brother in silk robes singing about Beris the Sellsword sacrificing his treasure to save a water nymph he fell in love with by slaying a damn dragon the other night. You're over here trippin' about some water coming out of a rock?"

The sound of the group laughing drifted over the water. Then came the sound of branches shaking and the rain-like plops of red fruit the size of cherries falling around them.

"Blessed be, I'm starving." Arthus started gathering as much of the fruit as possible. Draelo popped a few in his mouth while treading his arms around himself to pull them into a pile. Fortunately, the fruit of the tree floated. "We are going to need strength if they try and kill us when we get down."

Kasia shook more of the branches. The shaking stopped, and she perched on one and started to eat. "Mars, what's your favorite story we've heard so far?"

Mars popped a few of the cherry-like fruits into his mouth. "That's tough. Been a lot of good ones." He thought through a few. Nearly all the monks had a way of captivating them for many an hour with their tales. But one did stand out.

"You remember that night after the festival, when we were walking back home?"

"The night after the goblins," Arthus said.

"Yeah. The elf woman was sitting there by herself with her guitar, or whatever it was... a lute maybe. Her voice was beautiful, but sad."

"Wait, was that the one about the mountain? I remember that."

Arthus splashed water at Draelo. "We know why you remember."

Draelo didn't deny it. "Elves are known to be beautiful. Who am I to disagree?"

Mars let himself drift on his back, looking up at the sky. "The mountain one. The city hidden deep inside a mountain, the entrance is scarcely found." He imitated the melody quietly. "The rogue sought out texts of silver, gems written with arcane runes."

"The clever craftsmen long since gone, tricked by the winter fates to leave the underground," Kasia half sang the solemn verse from the tree-top.

"So others rose from the dark beneath, and took the city as their own."

"The rogue found his treasure..."

"And roams the black halls within the mountain, whispering the secrets of his claim, to doorways that will be sealed forevermore."

More fruit drip-dropped around them. The branches swayed in the light breeze. Each of them had more fruit than they could eat, even Kasia at the top of the tree.

Her voice drifted down. "Why that one, Mars?"

He didn't have an answer. Not yet.

## Chapter 5: The Way

Ty-Leon stood armed with his staff beside the elder Max-Kli as the students descended the Elder's Fall. Behind them, a group of more senior monks gathered to watch. Ms. Garfinkle and Yune-Wais stood off to the side.

"Otherworlders, you have brought danger to our monastery and the realm beside the forest. What have you to say for yourself, sullying our waters!" Ty-Leon barked.

Mars dropped down beside the pool and stepped to the side. Kasia, Draelo, and then Arthus landed beside him.

Arthus stepped forward. "We were brought here without any choice!"

"This brother's been after us since day one," Draelo said.

Ty-Leon took a breath to shout something back, but the grey elder stopped him.

"Wise elders, hear me. It is not the fault of these insolent youths, but I have seen the word writ clear. Master Vos, may his soul rest, told of a will growing beyond. That devilish shaman only confirmed what I have seen hints of myself." The elder pointed to them with his crooked finger. "These outsiders are mere crystals that have precipitated from the arcane that grows more saturated year by year, but hear me, as their presence is the harbinger of an evil unlike that which has been seen in generations!"

"I heard the shaman myself. Eyes of fiendish intellect unlike any a goblin has a right to possess! They killed Yi-Res and Jon. His wicked words demanded the outsiders or the whole realm shall burn!" A warrior cried.

"Banish them!" Another monk said. More joined the call. The elders in white watched on, their faces unreadable.

"Bring it on," Draelo yelled back.

"Silence!" A voice called. From between the masters, the warrior with the raven-black hair pushed through. "I saw the shaman, and it was by my blade the wicked creature was slain," he said to the first warrior who spoke. "Since when do our wise elders heed the words of goblins? Since when do our warriors quake like children and scream like banshees? Since when do we welcome outsiders, outsiders who have made the climb and sipped from the purity of the Sky Pond, only to cast them out to certain death?"

Grey steel slid out from his sheath. "Shame!" He yelled raising the blade. "Shame for those sheep who fear the words of evil goblins. Against my own blade you will cast our own acolytes out to death without the rites they deserve."

The elder in grey shook his head. "Treachery is in the air, blown in by the arcane breeze. Something lies beyond the veil, dripping with venom as it waits to strike."

"By your blade you will fall, Rylan," Ty-Leon said.

The two warriors stepped towards each other. They stopped as an elder woman in white moved forward.

"The outsiders have made the climb against our Falls. They have sipped from the pure waters of the Sky Pond. Yune-Wais, respected master, vouches for them. I say we grant them their rites." The grey elder started to speak, but she cut him off with a lift of her hand. "A price against the growing arcane must indeed be paid."

Yune-Wais hung his head as the elder crossed to him. "A price for acting rashly. A price to balance the force which reached across worlds. Master Yune-Wais, you have until the day of Waning to train the acolytes. They are then banished until a debt of one-centenary of goblin ears or their equivalent is paid in full."

Gasps went up from the masters. Rylan lowered his sword as Ty-Leon smiled.

"That is a debt of mastery!" Rylan said.

Another elder, this one an ancient man with tufts of white hair puffing from his ears, stepped forward. "When the arcane grows, so too must the debt. Now begone, all. That is the last word that shall be had about this matter beyond the discussion of elders and masters. Yune-Wais, prepare your students well." The monks dispersed. The elder in grey looked over them beside Ty-Leon, before turning back to go down the hill.

"I apologize, students and teacher," Yune-Wais said, bowing.

Ms. Garfinkle pulled her glasses off, pinching her nose. "I have read what Master Vos left. I must admit his words are very... provocative."

"What does this mean? We are banished?" Draelo said.

Yune-Wais shook his head. "Not yet. The day of Waning from Suna is still several fortnights away. We have much work to do."

Master Rylan walked over to them. His grey eyes were as hard as the steel of his sword. "I am sorry, friend," he said to Yune-Wais. "I shall help in any way to prepare the outsiders for their journey."

"Your aid will be appreciated." Yune-Wais turned to Ms. Garfinkle. "As for you, wise Azera, return to your studies. The knowledge you uncover is of paramount importance."

Ms. Garfinkle nodded and took one last look at her students. She turned and shuffled back down the path. Was it fear Mars caught in her pale and tired eyes?

"The day is still young. If Master Des-Ani is with us on this, we shall need her."

Rylan nodded, and strode off after Ms. Garfinke.

"Come now, students. Do not fear." They followed after Yune-Wais down the hill to his terrace.

"What are we doing?" Draelo said. "How can you just act like that didn't happen?"

"I'm acting as if nothing of the sort, young acolyte. What we are to do is in direct response to what just happened."

Draelo grunted. "Those elders all abandoned us. We aren't wanted here. They're trying to kill us."

Yune-Wais led them through an orchard of shade trees. He walked slowly, with much deliberation, looking around the sweeping hill. "Do not mistake the powerful words of a few for the opinion of all, students. The elders are the most pure in the Way. What can they say in response to such strong passion?" He remarked at last.

By the time they made the last descent to his large terrace, Rylan was already waiting in the water temple with Des-Ani, a beautiful woman robed in red silk, the color of devoted warriors.

"They wise in the way of us dying!" Draelo yelled. "How many is a centenary anyway?"

"It's one-hundred. And I already have one," Arthus said.

"We will prosper," Rylan cut into the conversation as they entered the pavilion. Smoke rose in front of him from the grill.

Draelo sat down at the table and leaned over, staring at the ground.

"We shall. Normally, a period of rest and celebration is welcome after the climb. I am sure you are all very tired. But we must begin with what we can. Please, wash and eat," Yune-Wais said.

They bathed in the pool and ate as the masters talked. When they were finished, Yune-Wais waited for them. He held a stack of four brown robes. "You are now acolytes of our monastery. Monks of our order, no matter the circumstance."

"I'm sure it matters quite a bit," Draelo muttered.

Redressed, Des-Ani took them out to the courtyard. They lined up as the acolytes had in front of Ty-Leon. Des-Ani watched them move. Of all the monks, she looked closest to a woman from Earth, with blue eyes and long auburn hair. But she still shared the almost unnatural fitness, or hardiness, of the others.

The warrioress spoke to them, evenly, but not without a touch of sympathy. "You have seen goblins before. Arthus, I am told you slaid one using only a rock. This is good, but do not think that means you know what to expect. As summer ends, they grow in power and focus, less primitive in their hunger. One-hundred ears will be no small feat. If you are wise, you will accomplish this by hunting slowly over many weeks."

"As important as combat, is survival. The land itself is as dangerous as any prey," Rylan said.

As at the training grounds, they again began by standing. Slowly, Des-Ani worked them through a more intense round of all the strikes they had worked through. The session convened at noon.

"Be here at first light. There is no time to waste," Yune-Wais told them.

The next day, they convened. Weapon racks now laid in the shade of the orchard. The racks were closed to them, and for many days they followed Des-Ani as she led them through the Way of the Open Hand.

The strikes became second nature. At the sharp command of her, Rylan, or Yune-Wais, Mars found his robes snapping faster and without thought in the movements. Single strikes and movements turned into increasingly complex forms that were like dances. Over time, the synchronized order of strikes, kicks, turns, and blocks became the same as the trance-like movements of the morning tai-chi.

Sparing began with Draelo and Arthus.

Mars and Kasia stood around the courtyard as the two faced off, a few paces away. Arthus took his stance as Draelo stared him down with resistance. The two were now the same height, with Draelo even looking a bit taller, but Arthus outweighed all of them by a solid margin.

"I'm not doing this," Draelo said.

"Because I'll kick your ass," Arthus responded. From where Mars stood, this seemed most likely.

"Sure."

Arthus charged across the grass, pouncing high to launch a kick at Draelo. The kick met only air as Draelo side-stepped it.

"Bro, chill!"

Arthus landed and turned. He moved in again. This time, Draelo launched a kick, high towards Arthus' head. Arthus grabbed Draelo's leg, snatching him from the air and throwing him down to the turf ground.

The fight ended with Des-Ani breaking them up from a grapple in the grass. Draelo cursed at them and swung once more at Arthus as he jumped to his feet.

"If you find yourself wrestling, you have already lost," she said. "Imagine wrestling with a wild animal! Goblins and orcs will bite and claw, punch and squeeze, hard enough to break your bones. While you struggle, others are approaching for execution. You must keep your feet and dispatch your enemy. Mobility is the greatest offense and defense."

Each of them began to develop their style around this philosophy. Arthus used his speed and strength to get in close, bearing down with quick debilitating strikes or total knockouts, like a heavyweight kickboxer.

Kasia and Draelo moved in an eerily similar way, but given their different bodies, the effect was unique. Both of the siblings were fast and viciously quick, but Draelo fought hot, like a dervish, and Kasia with her calculated way, was more like a bullfighter.

Mars watched as they developed a ruthless ability to off balance and take down an opponent, even falling prey to it a few times as he sparred them. Fighting them was like a chess game that started off slow and measured, the position slowly being tightened into a noose about you, before they suddenly launched a blistering attack.

Mars didn't find himself able to identify a certain style that worked for him. Every fight felt different, and more than anything he learned to carefully observe his opponent and the area around.

When he sparred Arthus, this meant letting him come in close, before pushing or moving away again. In the past, the two of them had been similar in power. Now, Arthus had developed an incredible amount of pure strength, while Mars found himself springier than ever. Fighting Arthus was all about positioning and body awareness. He learned quickly even the strongest man was weak without balance.

Draelo and Kasia, he fought more aggressively. With either of them, the strength and size difference were not as pronounced. He played the chess game, but carefully, and on his own terms. When it looked like his position had started to erode, he wiped the board clean and started again.

They sparred with other initiates, the ones who would come, anyway. Yune-Wais and the others devised clever games to handicap sparring fighters, forcing them to adapt and not rely on predictable strategies. The introduction of multiple opponents changed the combat, as well.

After martial training, Yune-Wais and guests, if there were any, would sit with them in his temple. He cooked a light lunch on his grills and woks, and brewed tea. Then, training continued.

The artisan training was severely harmed by their impending banishment. Yune-Wais refused to allow them to ignore it, however, believing it was needed to breathe life into their combat.

Eventually, Arthus worked his way in with a monk named He-Salden, a master blacksmith and occasional woodworker or carpenter. Draelo took up shop with a Master Quaon, a man said to have the most dexterous hands in the realm of the Great Forest. Quaon made and played instruments, as well as loaned out his skills for carvings and reliefs. It was rumored to be from his mind and hands some of the cleverest contraptions in the monastery were born, as well.

Rylan took Kasia on almost immediately. He and a few others were rangers, warriors who roamed the countryside, studying the land and tracking the paths of animals or travellers. Master Rylan trained the monastery's beasts: dogs, draft animals, eagles, and carrier pigeons. Master Ilias, the white haired elf, gathered plants and minerals for the apothecaries. They travelled with bows, occasionally taking dogs or eagles as well. With them, Kasia had been the first of the four to venture to The Great Forest, but only for a short trip.

Mars had been the last to find a master to apprentice for. He spent days shadowing whoever would allow him close by. Still, they mainly ignored him. Ty-Leon was active in discouraging any from helping. The most time he spent was with a Master Yula, who could work wonders of stone that seemed impossible to him. After Yula turned him away, Mars decided to visit Ms. Garfinkle.

He found his old teacher at a desk deep in one of the many libraries and record temples of the monastery, surrounded by bookshelves stocked with thick bound tombs.

"Hello, love," Ms. Garfinkle greeted him. She dabbed her quill onto a sponge and set it down on the desk, looking at him through her now less comically thick glasses. "You know, I don't recognize you kids, sometimes. You are looking like quite the warriors these days."

"The training is good," Mars agreed.

"Oh, and where are the others?" She leaned in closer. Mars felt her eyes on him as he scanned the room around, diverting the conversation.

"They're apprenticing."

Ms. Garfinkle smiled. Mars squirmed a bit in the chair feeling her eyes pinning him. He had seen her signature interrogation technique at work many times before. He waited for the simple, probing questions that would crack him like an egg.

"How are the others doing with their apprenticing?"

"Good."

"And what have you chosen to do?"

Marshall spilled his thoughts, some, right as they suddenly came to him. "I've tried a few different things, and can't seem to find one I want. I enjoy them all, in part, but don't have the patience to stay with it. That elder is making things hard, too."

"Oh?" Her smile spread, the lines of her eyes deepening. "You aren't a carpenter? What about a leatherworker? I could see you blacksmithing. Maybe you'd like fletching arrows, or making medicines?" She folded her hands on the desk in front of him like a parody of a guidance counselor.

"I don't get the joke, Ms. Garfinkle."

The old teacher sighed. She looked pale, and her eyes were heavy in the dim light of the temple. Dust hung in the air, and ink stained her hands.

"Joke? Marshall, if we were back at school you would have come to my desk just like this, eventually. You'd have said, 'Ms. Garfinkle, I don't know what I want to do. Everyone wants to be a mechanic, or ironworker, or salesman, or whatever their dad does.' You're a smart kid, I've known that since I first met you. Most smart kids want to be doctors, or lawyers, or engineers, or big businessmen."

She always called them by their old names when they were alone. Marshall found it comforting: that they all had a private link to a shared past that Ms. Garfinkle held onto for them. On his own end, he could not see her as Azera Magnus, the scholar wearing blue robes as her sharp eyes scanned the words of a scroll. She was still Ms. Garfinkle. When he was with her, he quickly became Marshall Anderson once more, for all that was worth.

"There are no doctors or lawyers or engineers here," Marshall said.

"No. And you wouldn't want to be one even if there were, just like you didn't want to be one back home when you were picking out colleges for graduation."

"What then? There's nothing else. I like everything a little, but nothing enough to do as a trade."

"I've known many people like you, Marshall. You aren't satisfied with the normal path. You want to make your own. Every person I've known like that, they need it desperately, like air. Everyone tells them they will fail. Everyone tells them to do something 'practical.'"

Ms. Garfinkle broke from her school counselor routine and rose from her desk.

"Sometimes they try to listen and commit to something practical, but they still always end up doing what they wanted to anyway. And sometimes they do fail, depending on how you measure failure. But, they are never unfulfilled finding their own way, and the results are always interesting. You just need to listen to yourself. Take a deep breath, and look around. There is no rush. Life, especially here, is long."

The words sounded genuine coming from Ms. Garfinkle. He had taken every class with her he could find over the years and only grown more convinced from the very first day that he had found the smartest teacher in all of the Atlanta public schooling system. To Marshall, the very fact that most people thought she was crazy only convinced him more of her brilliance.

For this reason, he found himself taking a deep breath. As he did, he noticed the room, truly, for the first time. The books, the scrolls, the candles, the quills. Just like that, it fell into place.

"Ms. Garfinkle, what did you teach back when you were a professor?"

She leaned back, as if taken to a far off place. No doubt, she was. "Philosophy. Philosophy, and a bit of religion and literature, here and there."

"You know, it's funny. It just occurred to me that since we've been here I haven't had any time to read. Me and Mikey used to... I've always loved to read. Anything, history, literature, and philosophy, even stuff that wasn't really 'cool.' When I was a kid, I often thought that all I needed to be happy were books and some pen and paper."

"These moments always seem so obvious later, no matter how difficult they are to get at the time. Maybe that's it, Marshall."

It was it. "Does that mean I will be apprenticing with you?"

Ms. Garfinkle looked out the circular window high above them. Stained glass depicted a monk with a book floating above her hands. The woman glowed in the daylight shining on the window. Ms. Garfinkle pursed her lips.

"Maybe for a short time I can help. But I am not the person for you to learn from. I am an old woman, long on Earth. I have seen hints of a deeper wisdom here, but I fear that it is mostly closed from me. Maybe you can help."

"How?"

"I have been hard at work since we've gotten here trying to make sense of this strange place and search for a way home. But I am old. When you get to be my age, your mind becomes less flexible, and changes become harder to accept. I could use your youth and open mindedness."

Marshall nodded, though he wasn't convinced he could be of much help. "Let's get started," he said.

The four acolytes met at their home at different times. Arthus typically returned first, as blacksmithing was demanding for short periods followed by waiting for dies to cast and metal to cool. Draelo typically came shortly after, his hands sliced up from carving at wood or shaping fine metal. When Mars returned from the temples with Ms. Garfinkle, he found the two of them laughing as they cooked dinner. Draelo played a lute or some other instrument poorly as Arthus improvised lyrics. The music improved over time.

Kasia returned either late in the night, or early in the morning from her treks with the rangers.

After a day of testing with other acolytes, Des-Ani named them proficient in the Way of the Open Hand. The four then split apart to shadow their masters until dusk. Mars spent those hours with Ms. Garfinkle. Another dimension opened up within the monastery, a dimension of the mind, away from the hard labors of the body.

The martial arts picked up with the introduction of weapons. "Initiates begin training in the Way of the Open Hand," Des-Ani said. "This way is the foundation of all combat, teaching a fighter to move and strike instinctually, without thought. The weapons you wield only augment what you have already learned." She took a stave from the rack. A long blade curved from the point.

"A weapon like this is designed to fight multiple enemies. With training, one could learn to use it to keep several skilled fighters at bay. Given enough space to work, this weapon can lash out from yards away, slashing throats, bellies, and limbs."

The weapon-master demonstrated, sweeping the stave in an arc about herself, moving her feet and body in a way that gave her control of a wide radius all around. She rotated the weapon with complete efficiency, commanding it like an extension of her body as she repositioned and turned. Mars heard the blade pass through the air, as smooth and powerful as a swooping eagle. Auburn hair trailed behind her as she moved, reminding him of the marble warriors they had seen that first day in the temple.

"Armor is a tradeoff," she continued. "Every piece adds weight and sacrifices some amount of mobility, but each piece could also save life or limb. Every one of us wears some form beneath our robes in combat. Crucial pieces, at the least, are: a mesh shirt, guards over the arms and legs, and a helm. Our best armor, however, is movement."

"We will all train in weighted armor," Yune-Wais said. "This will build strength, regardless of what you chose later. The staff is the first training weapon of the initiate, as it most compliments the transfer of open hand to weapons combat. Other weapons will be trained, as one never knows what will happen in battle and what arms may be needed. This stage of training will end as you find what is most natural to you. May you be strong in combat before the Waning."

Mars scanned the racks of weapons and armor. Blades gleamed in the light of the sun. Rich hardwoods shone deep reds and browns, smooth and polished. Hardened leathers and woven fibers sat beside chain mesh and heavier mail. Suits of plate stood like dormant soldiers on their wooden racks.

Yune-Wais stood before them with a staff tucked in close to his side, running straight along his body. Master Ani threw one out to each of the four and took her own. And so the open hand turned into the way of the staff.

They drilled with Des-Ani and Yune-Wais in the courtyard. The training began as the other training did: each of them standing alone to go through the motions until they could be done thoughtlessly. Mars found the staff natural in his hands, and the movements began to flow easily. They switched to other weapons. There was the sword, which Draelo seemed to favor, and the mace, which Arthus grew to use well. Kasia took after the bow, her arrows falling with nearly perfect precision as Rylan and Ilias drilled them for hours at the range.

After lunch one day, Mars waited behind to speak to Yune-Wais.

"How is your apprenticeship going?" The master asked. Yune-Wais, like many of the monks, had a way of directing conversation to what was most important.

The master's bath house, a pavilion of pumps and fountains that also housed his kitchen, lay quiet with the trickle of water. Mars looked off across the courtyard to the shady orchard that lay on the other end of the terrace.

"I had a hard time finding a trade I want to pursue," he replied.

Yune-Wais nodded. "When I was a young monk first learning a trade, I thought I wanted to make instruments. It only took a short time with Master Quaon for me to realize that dream would be best left for another life. Hopefully, young Draelo finds more success."

"What did you end up doing after that?"

"I tried my hand at toolmaking. I apprenticed with a Master Wes-Sio, and never quite shined. One day, while watching a group of children harvesting the fibers of flax and hemp, I saw how some of the flax plants had different types of strands. Some were good for rope, others cord, and others still, canvas or webbing. For many days, I thought about the fibers."

"Which is how you became a weaver?" Mars said.

Yune-Wais smiled. "When you see Master He-Salden at work, you see blacksmithing. If you were to ask him about his work, he would not say blacksmithing. In the same way, I do not think of what I do as weaving, though of course I weave. An artisan is one who finds the art in a trade. Art is only that which connects one to the deeper nature in the world."

Yune-Wais turned to Mars from his sink. "What do feel this nature in the purest?"

Mars thought over the last weeks with Ms. Garfinkle. The answer still seemed to make sense. "I wish to be a scholar. I feel something when I read and learn. Something pure and beautiful, like the Sky Pond. Back home, I played a sport, and learning something new is like the excited feeling I used to get when it was my turn at bat."

A small smile played in Yune-Wais' eyes. Mars couldn't help but laugh. "It is a game called baseball. Someone throws a ball as fast as they can, and another person tries to hit it with a club, or bat, as far as they can."

"I see. This sounds like it could be interesting for training. Aspiring to be a learned one is worthy, Mars. But, I must warn you, I feel it is a dangerous path you walk."

He looked to Yune-Wais, whose green eyes glowed heavily as they looked off somewhere that could not be seen. The distant look was peculiar in the monk's ordinarily present eyes.

"It was the Way that brought you all here. A master is one who learns to no longer resist this force of all forces, to let it pass through with little obstruction, and to weave it into their art. I believe the arcane is an integral thread, a source of great and unfathomable beauty. But many confuse the arcane for the Way, and only after they find themselves alone and adrift, far from the path, do they learn a harsh lesson, far too late."

The master seemed to return from where his mind had gone off to. He looked at Mars again with his receptive gaze. "Mars, I do not know the nature of the world you came from, but I saw the mark of the Sage upon you from that first moment. Perhaps the archetypes within us are universal... I say this all to you what I wish I would have said to another. A dear friend who thought he saw a shortcut in the Way through the arcane."

The water trickled by in the canals and pipes. Mars tried his best to understand the words of the master. "Is there a Master Vos in this monastery?"

Yune-Wais nodded solemnly. "Master Vos is who I speak of. We grew up together. A brilliant man he was, with a mind sharper than any blade. It is likely to be his work you will seek out with wise Azera. I'd caution you to begin slowly. Go with the Way, and beware when false paths threaten to sidetrack you. Learning from a book is not the same as learning from experience, and the power of the arcane is not the same as the Way."

Mars spent the rest of the day in the library with Ms. Garfinkle. At first, he had poured over the texts painfully, as she did. Over time, he found the scripts flowing from the pages, filling his mind like water falling into a gathering pool. Some were powerful, brimming with something of the unseen. Others were of a more subtle poetry. He wished to talk with Ms. Garfinkle about this, but he could not shake what Yune-Wais had said.

Morning meditations and the tai-chi-like exercises filled the mornings of Suna before the long session of arms training with Master Wais and Master Ani.

The four of the group each took on evolving roles as they grew more skilled. Mars found himself inhaling the library's volumes, lightening the load of Ms. Garfinkle. They discussed the works, the stories and philosophies written by the monks and brought in, in various forms, from around the world.

The records of the monks held accounts of events like that of the greatest myths of Earth. Ms. Garfinkle mostly looked for records of expeditions into the Great Forest, where the ruins of cities of men and dwarves lay overgrown by the unstoppable forest growth. They read of hidden mountain valleys where tribes of orc and goblin lived, where any cave could lead to the deep world of the netherdark: a subterranean realm even larger than the surface world where monsters hunted the passages and where cities of evil creatures plotted. Records of the monks ended there, as the netherdark was no place for man.

These records of the forest were what led Mars slowly to the writings of Master Vos. It was said Vos had grown obsessed with the Great Forest in his later years, locking himself away for days and demanding increasingly obscure accounts from the records.

Vos wrote of druids and wood elves. He wrote of the monsters lying in wait, spears sharpened for the day they would rise to some guiding power. Most of all, he wrote of the gnomes. A mysterious and withdrawn people in the realms of nature, where in the cities of man it was said they were social, industrious, and clever beings. He wrote cynically, obsessively, about their cleverness. What exactly he envied was lost in otherwise informative essays that devolved into mad ramblings.

Mars did what he could to share the burden of the feverish scripts with Ms. Garfinkle. But the words, runes, and scratchy sketchings floated through his tired eyes when he left the temple. He saw them in the black sky as the stars emerged to shine overhead.

On one night, a night Kasia did not return, Draelo and Arthus laughed as they versed freeform songs with the lute. As Mars laid down to sleep, he felt as if he were again clinging to the face of the Spring Rock. The rock was stability and sanity. Below, a black void yawned at him, the words of a madman whispering from the depths, promising to offer more truth than anything in all the world. If he would only let go and take the plunge...

#  Part II: Exile

##  Chapter 6: Westmarch

The last day of training came with a touch of fall. Suna had hit its hottest point weeks ago, and was now fading rapidly as they made the final turn to hurtle towards the midpoint between the two stars.

On that day the four convened at the training grounds for morning exercises. Awaiting them that morning was a score of robed Masters. The acolytes and visitors stood around. A few faces were sympathetic, but most were passive, or even fearful. Among those who had helped in the last rites of training, Rylan alone stared confidently at Ty-Leon.

"The Waning is now upon us," an elder said. He raised a hand towards the others behind him, his white robes hanging loosely from a lean arm. Mars looked to Yune-Wais standing with the group, the man's jaw was set tightly below fixed green eyes.

"This order has stood for ages, from the time the people of this realm first discovered the Watering Rock, and decided they wanted more than to serf the lands for sustenance and live in fear of the tribes around them. Since the time of man, Suna has been our season of the dirt and labor, while Sola embraces us with its nectar of revelry. Beyond the music, danger lies. So it is we declare this debt on the Otherworlders."

Yune-Wais stepped forward after the elder finished. His voice rang out. "Each of us have inherited our position through a lifetime of blood and sweat. Those younglings under our care, whether born of our order or orphans or refugees who have come here, have been our children all the same since time immemorial. Our gift to our children is this monastery, earned through character, blood and sweat poured within and without these walls. Today, we turn our back on this tradition and cast out our own acolytes." Yune-Wais stepped back, without looking at the Grey Elder or Ty-Leon.

Ty-Leon came next, his voice climbing even higher. "This monastery is only the womb that incubates our warriors. Men and women who stand against the wicked evil that infests the natural world of man. Those born from the arcane must pay the price of the other side of that wicked coin."

Red incense streamed from a fire as the Grey Elder cast a leather bag onto it. The flame soared as he stepped forward.

"It is our duty to watch over these lands, and so earn the tribute paid us by the people hereout. Honest folk, born of the soil, spending their lives in fear of the arcane whims. We bear the consequences of these wicked energies, and pay their suffering back doubly in our own blood, and a thousand times over in the blood of our enemies.

"The payment due, the payment for your arrival from the stars: a centenary of goblin ears or their equivalent. Until this payment is received, each of you is banished from the monastery, effective at the next rise of Suna!"

Yune-Wais threw a sack forward. Bloody ears, the dull colors of goblin skin, the twisted larger ones of orcs, the canine and hairy of gnolls, spilled out onto the stone ground.

"I offer the payment of my own labors for my students," he said.

Ty-Leon stepped forward and retrieved the bag, dumping it into the fire. Red flames leaped upward, incinerating the dried cartilage. The elders watched, their eyes clear and hard.

"Denied!" The Grey Elder cried.

With that, they were released.

For the remainder of the day, the four were in a flurry. Arthus went straight off to He-Salden, who generously loaned him a fine mail of steel chain, along with gauntlets and bracers of leather reinforced with steel threads. The final gift, he unwrapped from a case of oiled leather. Arthus lifted the steel mace, testing the grip and feeling the balance of the weapon.

The rangers outfitted Kasia. Ilias loaned her own leather armor and a sturdy pack. Rylan gave her a bow, arrows, and a short sword. She spent the night obsessing over the fletchings of the arrows and smoothing the edges of the blade.

To Draelo, Master Quaon gave a set of daggers, leather armor, and a crossbow complete with fifty bolts.

From Yune-Wais, Mars received a dagger, and kept the fine staff he had trained with. The master weaver provided a mantle, a bulky and sleeveless shirt, of a densely woven, kevlar-like armor. In his pack, he stored a notebook.

That night, the four met back at the longhouse. After a full meal, Kasia cleared the table, unrolling a piece of parchment across it.

"I've spoken to the rangers. Most hunters with a debt go straight into the hills, around where we saw those goblins. But I think it would be better to go here." She pointed up to the north, where a small hamlet lay drawn away from the beginning of the valleys. "I've been this way in the past, on a scouting trip with the rangers. Villagers told us of smoke fires."

"This is crazy," Draelo muttered.

"Crazy, but this is it, huh? Our training is for a reason," Arthus stooped over the table. He rested a hand on the mace at his side, squeezing the pommel.

"This river, more of a large stream, passes the village here. It is called the Westmarch, and it goes straight out far into the forest. We could rest up there, the villagers are usually cool and feed us. Then we can follow the river, sticking to the cliffs that rise here." Her finger traced the river to the beginning of the valley lands before the forest. "If we don't see anything by the time we get here," her finger paused at a fork. "We can make camp, scout the area, and if still nothing, go into the forest."

"I said it. That damned forest."

"What's the problem Draelo, don't you like the woods?" Arthus moved his hands to the table to find his cup. "A little camping. A little hunting."

"Probably ticks and stuff. Mosquitos. Gob-Lins. Oh yeah, and orcs and gnolls. All of those, that is, want to kill us more than the usual bears, leopards, and who knows what else lives out there."

"Animals won't bother us. We need to focus more on the other things," Kasia kept her eyes trained on the map.

"I forgot, bears are really friendly. They've never ripped some dude's head off just for walkin' round the woods."

"No, they have. But unlike on Earth, they actually have plenty to eat out here, and they have to worry a lot more about holding territory from creatures other than men. We aren't as high on the radar."

"Hear that? Now we're friends of the freakin' forest. Mars, you hearing this?"

Mars had been hearing it, but from a distance. Since the meeting that morning, he could hardly close his eyes without seeing the snarling faces of the monsters and the forest. Now, as he grew tired with the day, they flashed before his open vision.

"I hear. We should listen to Kasia, she has been out there more than any of us. Everyone needs to be on the same page."

"Aye." Arthus rose for seemingly the hundredth time from the chair beside Mars, stalking about the table. "I'm on board."

They looked over at Draelo. "What if we just left and go find somewhere else to live? I'm sure we could make some money in a city somewhere."

"What about Ms. Garfinkle? And we can't steal all this stuff. The masters trusted us."

"Some of them did. Most of them decided to throw us out. I say we take it and run."

"No. We need you to be committed. If you aren't, and we are relying on you out there, we could all die," Kasia said, her eyes finally leaving the map to regard her brother.

Mars knew she need not worry. In his eyes he saw a bolt strike forth and bury itself in a goblin's throat, the creature clutching at its green skin as it choked on its last blood.

"Whatever. I'll be coming along, what other choice is there?"

"Draelo!" She yelled. "Say it like you mean it," she said softer.

Draelo stepped back and shot a glance over to Arthus, who loomed large from the other side of the table. He looked over to Mars. Mars gave him a slight shrug.

"Yeah. Alright, sis. I'm in."

"Then we stick to this plan. We leave tomorrow before daybreak. North-east, to Morkop's Keep."

They awoke before the sun. Drums beat up and down the main walkways leading to open gates on the afternoon side of the Spring Rock. The children and acolytes crowded to watch on as they trod downhill towards a brutal exile. Miralda and other youths still friendly to them thrust rolls of bread and smoked meats and cheeses into their hands. Kasia stuffed what space she had left with the gifts, directing the others to do the same.

"Good luck," Miralda called after them.

Ilias and Rylan waited for the four at the western gate. Kasia laid out the planned path, and receiving the blessing of the rangers, she led the other three out into the countryside. Max-Kli preached into the morning air and Ty-Leon stared after them as the gate closed.

The four, without horses, adopted the running style of the rangers. Kasia led them as they ran for a mile, then walked for a half-mile. They did this nearly two dozen times as they moved north over the rolling grasslands before finding a campsite. Here, Mars and Kasia built a fire while the others laid out the camp.

They ate a simple dinner around the fire.

"You know, I was thinking about the stars," Arthus started. He took a bite from a hard roll.

"That's cute," Draelo said.

"I was thinking about the stars," Arthus repeated as he chewed on the bread. "There are obviously a lot more in the sky here, and you can see more colors. You know how Earth is kind of further from the center of the Milky Way? And how there are way more stars as you get closer to the middle?"

"Yeah," Kasia said.

"Well, I figure that means this solar system is closer to the center of its galaxy. Maybe we're even still in the Milky Way. I can't think of any way to figure that out, though."

"Maybe you can build a rocket ship to get us home," Draelo said.

Arthus shook his head and kept eating. They sat in silence beneath the night sky. Mars thought Arthus was probably right about being close to the center. He had seen pictures of places on Earth where you could see the glowing band of the galaxy overhead. The night sky here had no band, it was equally brilliant all around.

"We sleep in shifts. One up, three down. Two turns of this glass a piece," Kasia set a small hourglass onto a rock. "Who wants to go first?"

"I'll do it." Despite the day's journey, Mars found himself desiring the first watch. It would be his first night out in this country, and he wanted to stay up a while to appreciate it.

Kasia nodded. "You, me, Arthus, and Draelo. Reverse seniority. After the last watch, we go through the rest of the night."

All in agreement, the four found a soft piece of ground to rest on. Once Mars had his bedroll set, he rolled a rock towards the fire and took his watch. He listened to the others sitting down to a quiet dinner of bread and smoked meat before settling down.

Arthus fell asleep first. Mars listened to his friend's large chest rise and fall. After the first few moments, he did not stir again.

Draelo and Kasia lay silent, he laying on his side towards where the land fell along the path of tomorrow's travels. Kasia laid flat on her back, looking up towards the sky. After a little rolling around, Draelo fell into the same steady rhythms as Arthus.

Half the sand trickled through the first turn of the glass as Mars looked into the fire and up to the stars. A cool breeze blew from the way they came, rustling the grass and the leaves of the tree that sheltered them. The rock slowly grew hard beneath him, and he transferred to the ground. He leaned his back against it, closing his eyes for a moment but listening closely. Rhythmic breathing and the wind were all he heard. Not even the lonesome cry of a wolf carried over the plain.

He opened his eyes again to the darkness. An idea had struck him about the place when they first arrived. There was that feeling Catherine had mentioned that first morning, the one they all at some point talked about in different ways. He felt it strongly then, alone and open to the sky as he was at the moment.

"Kasia," he said softly. Her breathing had not picked up in the way of the other two.

"Yes?" She responded, equally quiet.

"Can you not sleep?"

"No. Not yet."

Sand trickled into the lower half of the hour glass. The fire crackled.

Kasia adjusted herself in the bedroll. "Mars, do you ever miss home?"

"Not really." The response came out more definitively than he wanted. He shifted closer to the fire. "I've tried to. The baseball team, I guess. I wonder how they're doing. I wonder if it is like Alice in Wonderland, where time was different while she was gone. Or if people are wondering where we went." Embers shot into the air as burning logs shifted.

"I wonder the same thing. It'd be easier that way, wouldn't it?"

"To be gangsters in nerdland?"

Kasia snorted in a stifled laugh. "Lord help me with that boy," she said.

Mars laughed by the fire.

"I know my grandparents would miss us, but aside from them..." Kasia said softly.

"There isn't really anyone else."

A small chuckle filled the night between them. "Not even the robotics team? Or picking out a college? Or playing baseball at one?"

Mars smiled. "Nope. None of that."

"Yeah," Kasia hummed back, her voice tired but peaceful. "There isn't anything else I want to go back for."

Arthus stirred for a moment and wiped at his face before rolling over. They fell silent, waiting for his breathing to continue.

"What about your parents?" She floated the question gently into the darkness.

"Parents," Mars echoed. More sand trickled.

"Yes, parents. Don't you miss them?"

Mars thought of a way to answer that, a way that made sense to the way he felt. "Arthur had parents. He doesn't miss them, so he says. You two had parents, but they were..."

"Drug addicts," she filled in. "But my real parents were gram and pa."

"Yeah. Arthur's were too overbearing, your grandparents were great. I suppose I was the lucky one. I already lost my parents after Mikey."

Kasia lay silently for a long while. A log shifted, sending a fountain of embers into the air.

"Have you felt it yet?" She muttered. "That feeling from the first day?"

He listened to her slowly fall asleep. As her breathing found a rhythm, leaving him alone. He sat alone, trying again to catch it. The feeling brushed by him on a late summer breeze carrying the early hint of fall.

The long dawn of winter is the time when the arcane flows like frost melt.

Looking at the open sky, the breeze carried him away. Like a leaf fluttering by on that strange feeling, he was swept back to a place he had not been since he was a young child.

It was a feeling he had almost lost over the years. With that cool breeze, alone beneath the glow of stars, he could no longer push it away. It whisked him back to a time from two lives ago. A time when he would stand on the cracked driveway, him and Mikey casting their fishing rods across the street as mom and dad loaded up Big Rusty, the old Ford Explorer. The back end sat low beneath the weight of coolers and tents, the engine pushing itself nearly to death as it snuck them off into the country.

The feeling returned him to those most cherished moments, long kept locked far away. The moments when the bugs were gone, when the sun had gone down leaving them all alone with the fire crackling, when a pan sat on the metal grill over the fire sizzling with the smell of searing steaks or burgers filling the campsite. The cool, clear country breeze swept through the trees to rustle the leaves over a nearby stream. Mikey laughed as he chased the lightning bugs flickering in the dusk. Mom watched with a worried look. Dad smiled and said, 'Let him live a little.'

Out on the grassland in this foreign world, it did not bring nostalgic tears to his eyes to return to that time. There was no nostalgia, for the breath transported him back as if those moments and the one now were one and the same. The past and present met, and in the meeting, he allowed himself to welcome the so-called arcane, that most inspiring of elixirs that he felt perforating every rock of this world.

When the hourglass ran out, flipped, and ran out again, Mars awoke Arthus. Arthus said nothing about his early shift, and nodded as he stooped down to restore the fire.

Laying in his bedroll, away from the night's watch, Mars soon found his own deep slumber.

* * * * *

Morkop's Keep proved to be less of a keep than a muddy hamlet lying off the bank of the Westmarch. They approached from the east, having overshot the walled village some two miles north. The village sentries were a spattering of broad shouldered farm boys wielding worn bows.

"What business ye lot have here?" The largest one, a dour and sandy haired boy, called down from the wall of stripped logs.

"We're from the monastery," Arthus said.

"Ooh, Col-Oon, you hear that? We gotta couple monks gracin' us with their presence," a slimmer one with a lopsided grin said.

"I should've known. They got that proper look about them," the third boy, Col-Oon responded.

Draelo shifted on the road, a loud slurp sounding as he pulled his boot from where it had sunk into the mud. He flicked his foot, trying to kick off a clump stuck to the side. It came off on the back swing, landing on his pants. He cursed.

The boys kept up there bantering.

Draelo took another step, searching for more solid ground. His boots sank in deeper. "Is this whole damn town made out of mud?" He yelled.

The lopsided grin disappeared as the boys stopped talking. "What did ye say?"

"You gotta problem with our town?" Col-Oon yelled back.

"Look, we've been on the road for two days now. We're just looking for a place to stay for the night," Arthus said.

The skinny boy spat down towards them. Col-Oon glared. "I don't like the look of them," Col-Oon said.

The large sandy haired boy turned around. His voice boomed. "Captain! Travellers!"

The stare down went on for a few more moments.

Finally, the gate opened. A portly man in rugged leather and chain mail stood before them. He chewed obnoxiously on some kind of leaf, his teeth stained red.

"Greetings, young monks. I am Captain Yusor," he said. "What brings yerselves to our fine keep?"

"We are hunting," said Arthus. "On the trail of monsters to slay."

The captain spat. A thick stream of brown liquid plopped onto the muddy and rutted road. "Slay, eh? I hope you know how to use those weapons, or it may be ye who is slain." His jowls shook as a chuckle escaped from his considerable gut. The boys grinned.

"Aye, aye, Cap'n. We be knowin' how to use the weapons and ye like. We're just here lookin' for some food tis' all," Draelo brandished his crossbow as he spoke.

The sentries looked sideways at him from the gate posts. Yusor's thick brow furrowed.

"Forgive our companion, Captain. He is keen with the blade, but not particularly of the mind," Arthus pointed to his head and shouldered Draelo back. "We could certainly use a bit of a rest after our travels."

The captain looked over them for a moment. When he moved, he did so with surprising ease, given his mass. "Alright then, we can hold ye's over for a bit, no problem there. I'd be low in my duty, as it were, if I didn't try and discourage such a young band from goin'n searchin' for trouble is all. Monks of the monastery or no, there has been trouble on the wind, by my word as a seasoned armsmen," the large man beckoned them on. "I'd be honored to house ye myself. The wife ought to have supper ready about now."

The boys muttered a few more jeers as they followed after the captain.

Trouble it proved, came to the village by way of a slain shepherd. Yusor told them of the attack over a bowl of thin soup. His wife, an even larger woman, sat like an anchor at the head of the table. Draelo shifted awkwardly beside her.

"Aye. I knew the man myself. Been tending those lands with that flock herein since I was a young one like you all. Darsos, he called himself. His wife was Nareen. The youngins still live here, save for Delmond who took to the east some time ago. Slain! Slain!" he thumped the table, startling his wife into looking up for the first time since they arrived. "In his own mill by a band o' the brutes. Orcs by my word as a man-at-arms."

"How far?" Kasia asked.

"His mill is off a few miles west, where the hills grow taller before the badlands. His boys came across the slaughter on a trip to deliver supplies. Must've been out in the sun there, what was left o' the two and their grandchild, Hori, for about two days."

"No trail?" Arthus said.

"Come now, boy, those monsters are always leavin' some trail. Trails best not followed! Not by that band of boys I have under my charge. We defend these walls to discourage minor raiders and look to you folk in other times. That is all I can do."

"In all respect, good captain, we are not here to question the job you carry out or the defense you hold over this town. If you could give us any more information, such as campfires in the distance or other attacks, it would surely help us know what to look for as we track down this band of marauders. Our mission can only help you carry out your noble duties."

The other three stared at Mars, who tried not to crack a grin back.

"Aye, son. Ye speak true as the monks do, I say. Reminds me of another one of yer kin that came this way some time ago. Older fellow." The captain lifted his girthy self from his chair. "More soup? Good, there ya are, it'll help you grow big and tall," he slopped another ladleful into each of their bowls. Yusor and his wife certainly testified to his statement.

"This far from the rocky valleys not much in the way of campfires can be seen, though Hrova the Huntswoman claims to have spotted a few of late. My guess is somethin' has those tribes riled up out there." His tone took a note of gravity. "More than usual if they came out this far and got old Darsos."

The captain said no more word of the attack, but he fed and resupplied the group. His wife produced a strange deck of cards, growing into a surprisingly enthusiastic host as a skin of wine ended up on the table.

After a welcome night beneath a roof, he led them to the gates.

"Good hunting. Not too often your kind comes up this far, but always welcome when you do." With that, he left them with a final word of advice. "Stick to the high ground. Those buggers will rain the hells down on ye if you give em' opportunity. They've been real clever like that of late."

The four followed his advice closely, following the peaks of the first hills along the Westmarch. When they came across the beginning of the rifts, where tall cliffs ran beside thin rocky valleys, they stuck to ridges which followed the river banks. Kasia led them along, stopping frequently along worn game paths for signs of passage. So the track began.

## Chapter 7: The Hunt

A cloudy night fell while on the trail. Kasia led them to a hollow buried a short climb down into a ridge. A sanctuary for eagles and fox, it ended up being a sufficient shelter for them as well. They would have no fire out in the borderlands. As the creatures they stalked were more suited for darkness, Kasia ordered two sentries, each on four hour shifts. This gave them ten turns of the hourglass before sunrise to rest.

A few turns after midnight, Mars awoke being shaken by Draelo. In the darkness he saw a black hand held in front of his face.

"A band passing by above," Draelo whispered. Mars heard the noise immediately. Boots ground the rocky path some twenty feet overhead with lighter footfalls mixed in. Pebbles fell around them, loud as they tumbled down the cliff. He heard the mutterings of the beasts, high and nasally, or deep grunting, like that of a gorilla.

The band stumbled along past them, with Kasia counting the footfalls. One, two, three... Mars lost his count of the mixed and shuffling steps. The footsteps faltered for a minute. Heavier steps approached the edge. The four settled back deeper in the hollow and held their breath as a few stones tumbled down nearby. They listened on as the band moved away, off into the night. Arthus rolled back to his side, muttering, "tomorrow, we follow."

The sun rose to the relief of the final watch. After a short breakfast of hard bread and cheese, Kasia scaled the cliff. At the all clear, the rest followed.

The path they had been on late the day before was ground down before them. Boot prints were stamped in the dirt among trampled shrubs.

Kasia crouched among the foot prints. "Orcs, maybe three or four. It looks like about ten goblins," Kasia said. "That seems to check out."

"Check out how?" Arthus replied, studying the path.

"When goblins and orcs work together, there are commonly observed ratios of each."

"Not near enough for what we need," Draelo said from the edge of the cliff, glancing up and down the river running below. "Can we take that many?"

Kasia shrugged. "It only takes one goblin to kill you in the wrong circumstances." She started following the path.

"One goblin couldn't kill me if I was already dead," Draelo said.

They scanned the area as Kasia's eyes remained on the ground. She spoke quietly as she analyzed the trail.

"It's been a little over three hours since they passed. If they haven't made camp, that is anywhere from six to nine miles in this terrain. But, the orcs are in charge, and they typically get some sleep around dawn. I wouldn't bank on it, though."

"I say we go for it," Arthus said.

Kasia stopped and looked back at them. "Mars, Draelo?"

"I say we go," Arthus repeated. "At the very least to observe."

Draelo shrugged. "That's what we here for, right?"

Slowly, she nodded. "Lets go."

She led them along the trail at a light jog, stopping every so often to scan the area. The trail wound back along the high ground overlooking the river, diverging at times along sturdier ground.

"Stop," Kasia said at last, slowing to a walk. "Conserve your strength." In the distance, a smoke trail rose from down beside the river.

She led them in an arc away from the ridge. The smoke looked to be rising from the river at a bend.

They halted a half mile away, and began stalking due north back towards it. As they got closer, Draelo spotted two forms by a smoky brushfire on the ridge. Behind the fire, the river kinked up in a wide canyon.

The four of them dropped down into a scrub-covered ditch, unloading their packs.

"Lookouts." Kasia said.

"You think you can hit them from here?" Arthus said. The two goblins sat around and poked at a small brush fire. One tore at a lump of meat with its sharp needle teeth, and the other stole glances at the eater with beady eyes over a long nose.

"Hit, yes. Kill, not so certain. Keep an eye on them." Kasia scrambled over the ditch and crawled along a path through the scrub. She navigated to the edge of the cliff about thirty yards to the right of the fire.

Upon returning, she reported: "The cliff we're on is washed out. There is a landslide of rubble leading down to the valley floor, where the group has made camp."

"How many?" Arthus asked.

"I counted ten more goblins below, and three orcs."

Arthus rose back up to look at the goblins before them. "Draelo, can you hit that one right there?" He pointed to the eater, who had finished his meal and was now picking at his teeth with a piece of bone.

"Let me get in a little closer. Kas, you get the other?"

"I'll need to stand to get a good shot. Get in position and let me know when you're ready," Kasia said.

Draelo crawled across the same path Kasia had taken before. Mars watched as he pulled the lever back on the crossbow, kissing a bolt before fitting the notch into the string. He laid down prone and placed the end of his bow on a rock, holding up a fist.

Kasia took an arrow from her quiver. She stalked up to the top of the ditch. Arthus gripped his mace and crouched just behind her.

Mars watched the beady-eyed goblin turn its head towards the standing form of Kasia.

Kasia released her bowstring as the snap of a crossbow sent the bolt streaking from Draelo's position towards the goblin. Mars watched in horror and fascination as the bolt smacked into the creature's flank, a moment before Kasia's longer arrow caught the already dead creature in the upper chest.

Kasia cursed. The other goblin whooped and jumped away, yelling in its nasally voice as it grabbed for a spear.

Arthus leaped from the trench, mace in hand. Mars scrambled after him, raising his staff.

They sprinted to the fire at the edge of the rubble landslide. The goblin screamed and snarled as it backed up with the point of its spear lowered towards them. Every sound from the creature sounded like a vicious curse.

Arthus went straight for the goblin, hardly slowing as he maneuvered around a viscous spear thrust. He easily overpowered the ugly creature, ripping the spear from the creature's hand and sending it flailing backwards. The goblin tripped trying to move away, disappearing over the edge of the slope.

Mars stopped his run at the edge and watched the goblin bounce down the gravel and boulder-strewn ramp. The creature dusted itself off in the midst of a now swarming camp.

"Draelo! Kasia!" Mars called out. Arthus appeared at his left, the flimsy spear still in his hand. Draelo made it to the steeper edge further to their right. He finished loading his crossbow as he looked down over the camp.

"You were supposed to hit the other one!" Arthus shouted.

Draelo didn't respond as he stared down at the sight below.

"Hrok ormir!" The first of the orcs rose, its makeshift tent bursting apart. The beast, reminiscent of a brutal looking goblin crossed with an ape, emerged and lifted a rusted and notched axe towards them in one muscled arm. The other two appeared similarly, rising tall over the goblins who waved spears at their enemies at the base of the washed out cliff.

The river bent and flowed behind the gravel bar of the camp.

The ork with the axe swung an arm out and knocked two goblins forward as it charged forward. The first brute lumbered over to the base of the ramp with the goblin that had fallen down the slope.

Mars squeezed his staff. The polished wood was slick with sweat. The sound of footsteps behind snapped him back to reality. Kasia stopped at the edge and hardly seemed to aim a moment before her bow leapt, launching an arrow at the target. The arrow struck the axe-wielder, hardly slowing the beast as blood began to run down the dull green skin of its broad chest.

"Hrok!"

This brought Arthus back into focus. He threw the spear forward and followed after it, dropping onto a step-like boulder below them. He lifted his mace. Mars felt his body respond automatically, and he dropped down beside Arthus. The orc lifted its axe as it climbed closer, rubble falling back down the slope after its heavy steps.

Another cool fall breeze caught the air beneath the cloudy sky.

Draelo's crossbow snapped. The bolt smacked into one of the goblins, dropping it to the ground. Another arrow joined the first in the flank of the orc. The brute grunted as it swung the axe towards them on the boulder.

The axe passed through the air as Arthus stepped back and Mars jumped over it. Time seemed to come to a stop.

Arthus leaped forward in the wake of the blade, planting his foot in the orcs chest with a powerful kick. The orc stumbled backwards, but not nearly far enough. The axe came back around towards Arthus now standing right in front of the berserker.

Arthus stepped to the side, sending rocks tumbling down the slope as he slipped. The beast roared again, the sound shaking from it's open mouth.

The hard end of a steel banded staff smashed into the orc's overgrown jaw. Mars felt the connection of his weapon on the beast's thick skull ring down the entire length of the staff. Blood and large tusk-like teeth flew from the impact. The orc staggered back, the axe sweeping down between him and Arthus. Rusted steel crashed and sparked off the flint rubble, leaving Arthus space to recover from his slip.

The steel mace swung up into the side of the orcs head, caving in the creature's skull and sending it spinning backwards. Arthus stepped forward and followed the swing with another, crushing the beast's head into the gravel like a watermelon.

"Arthus!" Mars called out. The slope was crowded with the monsters charging up towards them.

Holding his staff like a spear, Mars lunged forward to punch the end into a goblin's face. The creature fell forward into the rocky slope, dead.

"Get back!" Kasia's voice sounded far away as it rang out over another snap of her bow. The second goblin, still climbing the slope, caught the arrow in its potbelly stomach. The creature doubled over and dropped its spear.

Below, the other two orcs lumbered up the base of the collapsed cliff, their short and powerful legs moving below oversized upper bodies that gripped hideous weapons.

"Arthus!" Mars' voice snapped. Arthus looked as if he were about to charge at the whole mob. Instead, he stopped and turned back. They climbed back up to the boulder as a spear clattered off the rocks near them.

The snap of Draelo's crossbow sent a bolt deep into the stomach of an orc. The creature flinched from a wound that would later be deadly. As for now, it hardly slowed. Another goblin fell, an arrow wound bleeding from its thigh.

"Oh no, oh man," Draelo said, working at the lever of his crossbow. He fumbled the bolt, dropping it to bounce over the edge of the ridge.

The two orcs were almost to the boulder. One raised the broken remains of what had been a massive sword. The other held a wood splitting axe in its oversized hands.

The sword-wielder roared. Mars looked into the mouth of the snarling face. He almost flinched as an arrow appeared to sprout from the beast's skull. The cloudy yellow eyes glazed over and the creature fell forward.

Mars looked past to the third orc. The axeman screamed. Behind, the goblins faltered. Another spear clattered off the rocks, missing by a wide margin.

"Go!" Mars jumped down to the gravel landslide to the right of the axe-wielder, who turned towards him. Arthus hardly missed a step, dropping from the boulder and landing the head of his mace into the brute's arm. Mars stepped forward and swung his staff out, the long weapon striking the orc in the head far out of range of the axe.

They made short work of the beast, as Kasia and Draelo sent a volley each down on the goblins. With the final orc dead, the group of goblins scattered. Four of the creatures dropped their weapons and bolted for the river.

Mars and Arthus followed. Draelo crashed down onto the gravel beside them, his blade drawn.

The creatures were fast, but they managed to catch all but one who jumped into the river, disappearing in the current. A fourth floated by with an arrow in its back.

The fighters regrouped at the top of the body-strewn landslide. They surveyed the scene, studying the dead monsters carefully.

"Those things are almost as big as you," Draelo said to Arthus. He stared down at the one with Kasia's arrow sticking from its hard skull. "And that was one helluva snipe, sis."

Kasia nodded. The orcs were indeed large. The smallest was as tall as Kasia, and still more thickly muscled than all of them. The largest had stood as tall as Arthus.

"Lucky for us, they're dumb as can be." Arthus took his dagger and moved from body to body, lopping off the long pointed ears of the monsters and stashing them in a leather bag.

"I wouldn't say that," Kasia said. "The rangers say that underestimating an orc is the fastest way to end up dead."

Arthus grunted.

"They definitely slower and more aggressive. So, we got three orcs and ten goblins?" Draelo said, watching grimly as Arthus continued to lop off the ears. "I guess that's a good warmup."

"Some got away," Kasia rose. "They might get reinforcements."

"We're only two day's from the town, let's go back and regroup," Draelo said.

"You don't rest after a warmup. If they bring reinforcements, we can kill them, too," Arthus said.

"We need some proper rest," Draelo said.

"I'm not going back." Standing by the bodies with his mace at his side, the head coated in drying blood, Arthus looked wild, like a viking berserker. His arm trembled slightly, but a fierce light shined in his eyes.

"Bro, moving too fast is how we're going to die."

"Only forward," Arthus repeated. He tossed the bag to them and started off down to the river.

Kasia's eyes, glowing even brighter than they had that first morning, flickered away from the scene to Mars. Draelo leaned back onto the slope, arms crossed.

"Let's check the map." Mars pulled one from his bag and unrolled it over a rock. "See here? We passed the fork a while ago, we're closer to the forest than the village. Here." His finger laid on the ruins of an old town. "We go here, and see if the tribe this band came from is staying in these ruins."

"This group was small. They're probably from a larger tribe," Kasia said.

"Who cares?" Draelo replied.

"They were going towards the town," Kasia finished. "There could be dozens of orcs and hundreds of goblins.

"We can't do anything about that."

Mars looked at the ruins depicted. "No, but we can poach a few and bring back a report."

"Let's do it," Arthus called from the river. He swiped his mace through the water and pulled out a piece of cloth, wiping the blood from the steel head. "Gather any arrows that aren't broken. We go on."

Mars scanned the map. He remembered the words of the guard captain from Morkop's Keep. A monk, an older and apparently eloquent one, had come by sometime in the near past.

To him, this could only mean that they were on the right path.

## Chapter 8: The Ruins of Westpoint

A day's march turned into two as the cloudy sky released itself. Rain bogged down every step of the first, with streams tearing away at the rock as dry riverbeds roared to life. They made camp in a similar hollow as the first night, and with the dim sunrise, they trudged on.

For fifteen miles they endured the slick ridges and rocky slopes with no sign of more trouble. The forest at last greeted them at midday. The first stand of trees appeared below a cloudy sky, following the river as the valley lands rolled into better soil.

The early parts of the forest were dense with young trees and thick brush, but game paths led them on into older growth. Here, the ground lay thick with centuries of compost: dead leaves, grasses, decaying trees, all lying beneath the canopy like layers of carpet. The trees grew in size, with hardwoods as wide around as a standing school bus, and pines and firs that towered into the canopy that lay overhead like the roof of a basketball stadium.

Kasia, seemingly more relaxed in the shade and cover of the forest, led them along the game paths, sticking to ridges or hilltops when possible. She kept a short distance from the river to the south, striking along dead to the west to run into the remains of the ruins of Westpoint.

The first sign of the town on the map was what looked to be an old lumber-mill laying collapsed in the river below. The four scanned from high up where the river carved between two bluffs. The mill's stone foundation had shifted and lay at nearly a 45 degree angle where the bank had long since washed it out. The stones of a wall sat in the river, white rapids breaking over the ruins. Further down, where a mountain began its rise, the river bent about steep cliffs to the south. They followed the cliffs until the narrow path led them to a set of worn stairs carved into the mountain.

Kasia led them along the path for a short time before directing them higher up the slope. They climbed, leaving the stairs far below them as they came over the summit of a short mountain. The town sat before them nestled in a valley.

Westpoint, in lifetimes passed, had been a border town lying against the encroachment of the forest. It lay nestled in a valley of three mountains, foothills almost, for the much larger network of mountains running further west and north into the Great Forest.

Generations ago, the three mountains had been called The Bastions, the final stopping point before the wilderness of the forest. Now they were only referred to by this name, rare as anyone spoke of them, ironically. The tide of the forest had long since swept over the stone buildings of the once prosperous mountain town. Before them, the sturdy buildings lay partially collapsed and overgrown. The walls, no more than piles of collapsed stones now, stood solemnly to guard the valley.

"It's dead," Kasia said from her perch from an overlook. She snapped her eyeglass shut. "Nothing more than a pack of wolves."

Mars took the glass and looked at the pack strolling through the paved streets. Weeds grew up between the stones. Beside the roads, buildings stood with dark spaces like caves hiding behind collapsed walls and worn stones. Trees rose from the center of some, gnarled roots spilling out of windows and over broken walls.

The town was indeed dead, save for a tower that stood near the center.

Arthus sat atop a stone taking the scene in. The mountains climbed about the valley, green forest leading to plains of snow. "You guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Draelo said from where he sat against a tree. He wiped a cloth over the stock of his crossbow, the curved rapier and a dagger laid out beside him.

"Nothing I guess. Just the wind."

Mars glanced back at Arthus. He stared around the mountains, his blue eyes calm and open. The look within them was like that of the monks for a moment.

"Dead works for me. Maybe there's some stuff stored away down there. Loot and what-not," Draelo said.

"No, there it is again. I hear words."

"Yeah, I was just talking."

"Not you. Be quiet. There." Arthus stood and pointed along the mountain on the opposite side of town. A path climbed to a series of stones strewn around like a collapsed lego building. "I think there's something carved into the mountain."

"We'll camp here tonight. This place looks relatively undisturbed, and there are plenty of places to get lost in the ruins if trouble comes." Kasia shouldered her bow and started her way down the rock face. Draelo sheathed his weapons and followed.

Mars looked out over the town, where the wolves caught a scent in the air. The lead wolf turned towards them. "Watch out," he said as the pack bounded over a stone wall and fanned out in the street.

They entered the town through a broken gate. The wolves howled further down the street.

Draelo raised his crossbow.

"Wait." Kasia walked forward, gesturing them back. Steadily, she approached the wolves. The lead one, a great grey female, snarled with a steady, low, sound at her approach. The others behind seemed divided on whether to turn away or bolster the alpha. Kasia stopped and held a hand out, a few yards away.

The female crept forward another step. The snarling seemed to quiet for a moment as the wolf took a sniff. The others behind seemed to grow larger as the hair on their back stood up. Mars could hear Kasia muttering something, but he could not make it out. Draelo shifted his bow as the alpha wolf stretched forward, sniffing his sister's hand. Kasia reached the offered hand further forward.

The wolf's nose and her hand met for the briefest moment.

Mars let out a deep breath as the beast turned around, leading the pack off to do what business they had in the town.

"How did you do that? That thing was huge," Draelo shouted, letting his bow drop. "I thought I'd have to put it down."

"They won't bother us. Just keep a respectful distance."

"Not a problem, I'm going up to see where that path goes." Arthus tucked his mace into a sheath and started off down a side street.

"Draelo?" Kasia gestured towards Arthus trotting away.

"Aye. Keep your heads up." Draelo jogged down the street after Arthus.

Kasia and Mars strolled down the main street, she with an arrow knocked. Mars relaxed his staff at his side.

"The wolves... Was that a ranger trick?"

"Not quite. Just something that felt right."

Mars nodded, scanning the buildings around them. Some, he noted, were in much finer shape than they appeared from the overlook.

"Do you know anything about this place?" Kasia asked, peeking into a dark room where a wall had caved in.

"Not much more than can be seen here. I think it was finally abandoned a century ago, maybe a century and a half."

"Why did you want to come here?"

"Just something that felt right. See that tower?" Mars pointed where the tallest structure rose out of the street running off the main road a block down.

"Let's check it out." They rounded the street, seeing a broken-down house below where the tower rose.

On approach, Mars said, "someone's been here recently."

"The tower has been restored there," Kasia agreed, pointing to where stones had been refitted and mortared.

Mars tried the door. A chain rattled on the inside, holding it closed. He moved over to a window, smacking a board from the frame. It clattered away into the dim of the main room. Dust floated about in the sunlight spilling in. He smacked another off and vaulted in. Kasia followed.

The room was dim and open. Dust hung suspended in the wide glow of the blue sun. No furnishings lay on the bottom floor.

"Be careful. I feel something here." Mars prodded the boards in front of him. A lone rug laid neatly in the center of the room. Slowly, he approached, using the end of his staff to flip the fabric onto itself.

"What is that?" A sketch laid burnt into the stone floor. A circle with bisecting lines, in between which were sharp and swirling symbols.

"A rune. This is a wizard's tower," Mars said.

"Was?"

"Maybe. It was used more recently than anything else here." Mars took a step forward.

"Don't!"She yelled.

He held a hand back as he stepped into the circle. Nothing happened. He stepped out of the circle, towards a double staircase that ran to a landing. "The tower is up here."

Mars led Kasia up the stairs to a door. "I feel it, up here." He opened the door. Stairs wound around a circular room, up into the tower.

"Mars."

"It's fine. Come on." He started up the stairs. Halfway up, a movement sounded above them. Something thudded to the floor overhead.

Mars and Kasia took the stairs two at a time. At the top, Mars threw the door open. He jumped back as a cup sailed across the room, shattering on the wall next to the door. He jumped in, staff ready. Kasia turned towards the window with her bow drawn.

"Wait!"

Kasia hesitated at the yell.

Leaning out the window, a monkey looked back over a furry shoulder at them, teeth bared in fright.

Mars leaned his staff against the wall. The shattered cup lay beside the door, joining in with the clutter. He scanned the room before looking back to the monkey. "It's okay. We're friends."

"Are we?" Kasia asked.

"Yes, good friends." Mars approached the window. The monkey looked as if it would flee. "Hey, fella. I am Mars. I'm a monk, like Vos."

The monkey leaned back into the window slightly, still facing away. The creature was small, no larger than an oversized cat.

"We didn't trigger that trap downstairs, did we? We're friends. From the monastery."

The little primate relaxed more, turning around. It reached a hand up to the frame, its feet perched on the windowsill beneath.

"You know Master Vos, don't you? He stayed here, but where did he go?"

Slowly, the creature eased back onto the desk beside the window. It scratched at its back as it rustled the papers laying around. Finally, it produced one, laying it flat on top as it retreated to the window. Mars stepped over to the table, keeping a wide berth between him and the startled monkey.

The yellow paper, an old and faded parchment, was covered with a sharp scrawl. Mars recognized it immediately as the hand of Vos. He read aloud:

"The forest speaks the will of many gods, forgotten as the tides have washed over the lands of men. In the void, others rise, drawing from the same arcane power flowing through all the world. Corruptions, cancers of this spirit and the arcane, they grow more powerful as they so defile the lands. The gnomes knew, wise creatures of the forest, tricked by the light of day into again roaming the surface world, losing the ingenious machinations deep within the mountain rock.

"Even now, it reaches through the ether, seeking, always seeking: a spirit ripe for twisting. But the ether does not obey evil or good, and this reaching will be balanced. It may-be that I am not the champion I believed, born to stop what is happening, but a part to play I have, nonetheless. I feel my time coming short, the arcane has not chosen me, only allowed me to manipulate its powers for but a short time. It drains my strength. It leaves me barren, suspended in a sterile world without its power. On the morrow, I shall go while I still can to find the entrance. If I fail, may a champion find this and continue what I started. Jo, loyal companion, will be my final judge on this plane."

The monkey hung on every word. When Mars reached the end, the creature looked quite disturbed.

"Jo?" Mars inquired. The monkey smacked its chest, jumping on the windowsill. It climbed onto the desk again, rearing up to look Mars in the eyes. He stared back into the deep purple orbs as they probed at him. He felt the gaze reaching, as if towards his soul.

The monkey jumped down from the desk and began rummaging around more. From a chest, it produced a neat canvas bound book. Eyes now low, Jo held the book up to Mars.

Mars dusted the front cover off. A rune glowed blue from the canvas. He opened it.

"It's blank... right?" Kasia said from over his shoulder.

"No. Most of it is, but... you see this?"

Kasia shook her head. Mars stared at lines of sharp writing and the drawings of runes.

"I think it is obscured to you for some reason. I see it. Strange words and diagrams." As he spoke the words changed, looking as if they were rearranging themselves on the page. He found himself staring at a page of his own writing. He leafed through. Only the first two pages were full. "I'm taking this," he looked at Jo, waiting for any refute. The monkey only stared at the book.

"What is it for?" Kasia said.

"The words and diagrams are like a lens of some kind. A way to focus the arcane energy into different forms. I guess you'd call it a spellbook."

"We'll set our camp here then. Maybe there are more defenses laying around."

A yell came from the street. Kasia crossed to the window, seeing Draelo walking down towards them.

"Where are you guys at?"

"Coming down, just wait there," she turned to Mars. "Make yourself at home. Let us know if you find anything." She left the room. He listened to the sound of her footfalls descending the stairs.

Mars took in the rest of the room for the first time. The tower rose about three stories. From where he stood, he could just peek over the landing of an alcove above where a bookshelf stood beside another desk. A window up in the alcove cast the light of the red sun within. On his level, the floor was a mess of papers and trinkets. He began gathering them all, organizing the desk in reams of haphazard organization.

Jo took the lead, snatching papers from the ground and placing them on the desk. Other artifacts, she brought up to the alcove.

"A most intelligent fellow you are, Jo," Mars remarked as the creature began to arrange the stacks of papers, directing Mars to a chair beside the desk.

"You want me to sit here while you gather everything?"

Jo grinned widely. The sharp canines set in the monkey's jaw shined pearly white against her main of auburn fur.

"Alright then." Mars took the seat, beginning a more logical organization of the scrolls and leaves of parchment. Most, he found, contained more of the free-form verses of Vos. A few were written in a language foreign to him.

"Jo, do you happen to know what script this language is written in?"

The monkey did a few turns, scratching its head. It leaped over to where Mars had placed the original paper he had been given. Jo pointed to a word, gnome.

"Gnomic? Well I suppose that is why I can't understand it."

Again Jo did a few hopping turns. The monkey dragged the spellbook across the table in front of Mars.

"Hmmm?" He flipped through the pages. Still, only two had anything on them. Jo pointed at the first. Obeying the monkey, Mars parsed through what appeared to be his own writing.

Intuition. Understanding. Mars stared at the words as they filled his mind. Slowly, his eyes drifted to the rune.

As he stared, he began to feel adrift, as if all of reality had become a great sea of some fluid lighter than air. It carried him away from the room. He floated back within himself, and then somewhere higher than where his mind was. The rune glowed suspended in the air. The symbols and lines weaved and changed as the light of Sola and Suna appeared. The light channeled itself through the rune like a prism, breaking into a spectrum of colors he did not see, but could feel as it illuminated the space.

He looked back to the gnomic writings. He felt as he had when he first learned to read. The words that looked like meaningless symbols suddenly rearranged themselves before his eyes, like a window becoming unclouded. "Could Vos read these?"

The monkey threw its head back from where it perched on the alcove.

"Ah." Mars read the first lines. "Norfin, it has been a fortnight since I last greeted you. I fear I bring troubling news. The council has caught the same fever which so gripped the Arch Magus. In the infinite folly of gnomes falsely regarded in wisdom, have moved to give up the citadel. It is true, I here report that Famledon is no longer a home for us. The grey dwarves, greedy in their gaze, have found the time ripe to take our city beneath the mountain.

"It is with a touch of malice, dark in my heart, that I remark they will find only veins long dry of the wealth of metals and stones. My last act as Guardian was to seal the Sky Dome, removing the lenses with me in my flight to safety. If ever anyone is to return, find them in the vault.

"Until next time - Svil," Mars finished.

He moved on to other letters and pages. Most were only half-burned or mud splattered fragments. Vos' writings, he left for later. Frenzied as the man had been in his final days here, they were like spells, themselves. Mars would have sat at the desk until every word had been digested if Jo hadn't stopped him. Leaning over the desk, the monkey dropped a mushroom down from the alcove.

Mars picked it up and analysed the mushroom. Purple gills protruded from a huge orange head. The stalk stretched long and grey as any other mushroom. The only remarkable aspect: the mushroom glowed. Not dimly either, but a solid aura of bluish light. He set the mushroom down, climbing up to the alcove beside Jo. The trinkets were all laid out in neat piles. Rods of glass sat beside strange minerals. More mushrooms, roots, dried leaves like goblin ears, and small carvings mingled in another pile.

"Components," he scooped up one of the tiny glass rods. A filament of silvery metal lay suspended within, like a small fuse. He dumped the piles into a few small leather bags, storing them deep in the pockets of his robes.

Footfalls sounded lightly on the staircase. "Mars, it's us." Draelo and Kasia appeared in the doorway.

"Woah, quite the nerd tower you found here," Draelo said.

Mars nodded from the alcove, looking down on the two as they circled the room. "Where is Arthus?"

"That's what we came here for. He's lost it. That path led to some kind of temple and he won't leave."

"Says someone is speaking to him," Draelo finished.

"Alright," Mars said.

"He's hearin' voices," Draelo repeated.

"Yeah, well do you trust him or not?"

Draelo snorted. Kasia said nothing.

"So leave him to it, then. This town, the map drew me to it that first night back in our hut. Master Vos, the one Ms. Garfinkle and I have been studying, set up his shop here some time ago. He was on the trail of something important."

Draelo jumped back as Jo peeked over the balcony of the alcove. "Yo, where did that monkey come from?"

"He's Jo," Mars replied.

Jo grinned down at them.

"I think Jo is a she," Kasia said.

"Well where did she come from?" Draelo said.

Jo tugged on the robes of Mars, who had come over to the balcony. He looked down at the creature. "You don't have to stay here, Jo. Master Vos is gone. You're free."

"Ah! Ah!" Jo responded, still tugging at his robes.

"Monkey says it's yours, brother." Draelo laughed, punching Kasia lightly on the shoulder.

Mars squatted down to the creature's level. "Jo, you aren't mine. You can be free. If you remain, however, I'll take care of you." He patted the monkey on its head. It grinned back at him, white teeth flashing.

"Man, Marsh. You're acting weirder than Arthus."

"We have a monkey, then," Kasia said, now at the window looking out on the town. "And wolves." The pack strolled down a road some distance away. "Let's go see Arthus. He should know where our camp is."

Mars descended the ladder. Jo jumped onto his shoulder.

"I'll stay here and rig this place up," Draelo said as they came down to the main room of the house. "I've had enough with crazy talk and smart monkeys for one night."

Kasia and Mars left Draelo in the tower, taking the street off to the edge of town. They climbed the stairs carved into the mountain up towards the temple. Arthus appeared at the top.

"Hey. Wait down there." He descended the stairs towards them. "Mars, Kasia, this temple has been desecrated. God has revealed himself to me as the Lord of Protection, the Bane of Evil, a Champion of Righteous Battle. I must restore this sacred temple."

Mars matched Arthus' stare. He spoke quickly, though his eyes seemed soft.

"How long do you think it will take?"

"How long? Does it matter? I must stay," he kneeled on the top step. "Please, this temple has fallen. It is not yet worthy for communion. I need to hear His word and His name."

"Arthus, give me an estimate."

For a moment, the logical Arthus seemed to snap back as his face fell into a thought. "A week, but no less." His eyes immediately turned back to the unfocused glimmer.

"So be it. Stay safe. We'll be back to check on you," Mars pointed over to the tower. At the stairs they stood on, the peak lay level with them. "Camp is that tower."

Mars led Kasia by the elbow back down the stairs. She stole a final glance back at Arthus.

"What do you think?" She asked as they made the way back towards the tower.

Mars watched the wolves cross the street far in front of them. "I think a god has spoken to him."

"I hope it is a good one."

The door to the house stood open. Draelo stood at the window the other two had first entered through, nails hanging from his lips as he hammered a sheet of wood into the frame. A fire roared in the mantle. From somewhere, he had found an old bearskin to lay across the floor.

Out on the street, the twilight cast dark shadows among the ruins. The town road wandered off beyond the fallen wall to a long untraveled road. Mars could only hope for the next week it would stay that way.

## Chapter 9: Aeyr

"It's some kind of wild boar. We tracked it down by the river, finding a couple lounging around. They aren't very good swimmers," Kasia flipped the hog off over her back. The heavy carcass nearly broke the table. "One for me, the rest for the wolves."

"Been awhile since we had some bacon," Draelo said.

Kasia smiled and dragged two more hooks across her skinning line near the wall. One hook had been plenty for the odd squirrel, rabbit, or raccoon she found, but the hog nearly outweighed all of the week's game put together. "There's a smoke house down the street. I wanted to carve up enough for a small feast at the temple when Arthus finished. The rest, let's smoke for our journey."

She opened the creature's belly. Blood streamed down from the dead hog into a stone channel in the floor, draining into a bowl outside. Innards slopped onto the floor, splashing the blood up onto the walls.

"Draelo, pull the intestines out."

"Say what?"

"The intestines. We can use them as casing for sausage."

Mars faded out of the room, climbing the stairs up to the tower landing. In the quiet of his study, he went back over the papers left behind.

Arthus would finish his work tomorrow. That, he felt fairly certain of. Working as he had, frenzied by the God that spoke to him, the warrior had worked day and night throughout the week. He could see the fire glowing just inside the temple up on the mountain at night. During the day, he occasionally saw Arthus stooped over a work horse, or rigging pulleys to raise a massive piece of stone. Even from here, he could make out the ribs exposed on his friend's emaciated frame.

Mars had taken the week to sort through the rest of the study. Fragments he found that would be important for the journey, he bound carefully into his notebook. The rest, he stored away in the alcove.

Jo had been extraordinarily helpful. Mars felt a connection grow with the creature as the ether, or arcane, bound them together. In quiet moments when they were alone in the study, he could almost hear the monkey's thoughts, feel her feelings. Once, when he dozed for a moment, leaning back in a chair, he thought he could see himself through Jo's primate eyes. He felt so primal, so free, in the creature's body.

Another night, the third in their ruined refuge, he had dreamed of being Jo. He saw through her eyes, scaling down the side of the tower and across the roof and ruin of the town. He climbed along the mountain, alone in the darkness with the stars shimmering over and a cool breeze blowing from the peak. At the temple, he sat perched atop a stone. A blaze flickered in the temple below. A man's voice, booming with the echoes of a war ballad, emerged with the glow of the fire and filled the night.

Draelo uncovered a king's ransom of wealth from within the ruins, albeit a very minor king. At the peak of each day he climbed the tower to have a long lunch with Mars, laying out the morning's findings across the floor, with the best jewels already adorning his fingers and wrists, or dangling from around his neck. They sat and ate together, Draelo asked increasingly involved questions about the works Mars uncovered, even as he acted uninterested. He mostly perked up when hearing stories of great artifacts forged or found, treasures worthy of a kingdom recovered from the lairs of dragons and wights.

"We gotta find us a dragon to slay."

Mars had nodded. "One journey at a time. Dragons, especially the treasure hoarding kind, or not creatures you look for without knowing what you are doing."

Kasia returned from the forest only a few hours before nightfall each day, bringing sacks of wild fruits and root vegetables and the odd game. Before leaving in the morning, she left food wrapped at the steps of the temple. Arthus never took it.

On the eighth morning, they woke to a drum booming through the valley. Outside the temple, a bonfire of small trees blazed high into the dawn sky.

They skipped breakfast, hauling bags of hog meat and forage to the stairs. Arthus awaited them at the top.

"Friends, comrades of battle! I welcome you." He descended the stairs towards them. His blue eyes shined from a gaunt face. "I see you brought food. A feast, then! And the first gathering in sanctimony to inaugurate this grand temple to The Champion of Righteous Battle, Aeyr!" He stole the bags of meat from them, hauling them all up the stairs. What fat Arthus had on his frame had melted away, leaving his body looking carved like the stone of the temple. Mars wondered how he didn't collapse on the stairs.

Arthus erected a spit over another fire, placing lumps of meat onto it. Kasia found water to boil for the roots and used other herbs for tea.

He led them through the temple as the smell of searing pork followed them. Pillars flanked the landing, leading to a massive square of stone set into the rock. A relief covered the top most stone, carvings of weaponry rallying around the sigil of Aeyr: a hammer striking an anvil beneath the flash of lightning.

Inside they found the sanctum rising within the rock in a tall chamber. The stone floor had been carefully swept. Statues of armored champions lined the walls, looking over what could only be a drinking hall. At the back of the chamber rose a depiction of Aeyr himself, a berserker of a man looming over a carved altar. Every muscle bulged from arms stretched out before him, where an axe large enough for two men rose from the ground to his hands.

Arthus led them over, kneeling before the statue. Wreaths of woven leaves and berries wrapped the statue's neck and lay at his feet. A cask of wine sat at the side beside an empty cup.

"Aeyr, I have followed your will and restored this great temple. I bring my comrades to witness the restored glory, worthy warriors devoted to slaying your enemies: be they orc, goblin, gnoll, or dragon. If you find them honorable, we shall feast and drink to your name!"

Mars felt a wave of the arcane breeze through the halls, building at the statue. Fires leaped from the statue's hands.

"He speaks!" Arthus bowed lower.

"A ranger, yes. He recognizes you, Kasia. Deadly with the bow and clever in the wild. A rogue, yes, but one of morals, using his devious mind to keep us safe and seek wealth for our journeys. Mars Arcadius, a wizard! No wizard such as you've sworn to destroy, weaving his trickery to obliterate fields of powerful champions. No, Mars Arcadius, sage, wielder of the staff and slayer of evil, great conduit of the arcane!"

Another breeze swept through the stone hall.

"He chooses us all. And I, as wielder of the arms of this temple: defender and slayer. Paladin, Arthus the Valorous!"

From the statue's hand appeared a mace, glowing as it descended to the floor. A shield too, also glowing, fell before Arthus. He took the mace in hand, longer and more elegant than his own. With shining eyes, he raised the shield before the statue.

"An honor, and a blessing. I accept, with the understanding of the duty that it demands. I will bring war and death to your enemies. I will raise my shield to protect my comrades and the innocent."

Mars caught a few words for a moment, a baritone that vibrated through the walls at a pitch they could not readily hear, but Arthus heard clearly. Rise Paladin. Hear my words, Ranger, Rogue, Wizard. This last word stretched on. Otherworlders. Plain-Walkers. Listen not to those which would read your fates. Bring my strength and silence the meddling of others in this realm.

Arthus rose.

Death lies in cowardice. Man's destiny is forged by his own hand. Fortune favors the bold.

The presence faded from the temple. Arthus fell to his knees again. Draelo finally closed his mouth as Kasia turned and left the temple.

"That... that was a God?" Draelo croaked.

Mars bent down beside Arthus. "Can you stand?"

"I believe so. Let's eat, man. I'm starving." The intense light faded from his eyes, replaced by a weary radiance.

Mars laughed as he helped his friend rise to his feet. Arthus left his old mace at the base of the statue, placing the other, no longer glowing, at his side. The shield he slung over his back, making him look like an armored turtle. Mars felt the energy radiating from the weapons, softly now, but waiting to roar to life again.

They left the temple, Arthus leaning on Mars and Draelo. Mars stole another glance back at the sanctum as the fires faded. Wiz-sssard. The word followed him.

Kasia waited for them by the fire. The hog-meat sizzled over the flames. Arthus slumped down beside her, laying his shield over a pack and leaning back onto it.

"Sis, you never been one for church services, but that was something, huh?" Draelo said sitting beside her. "Imagine Deacon Clarence doing that!"

"Somethin," she echoed back.

"Girl, what is wrong with you? Did you see that statue shoot flames out its hands? Whoosh!" Draelo threw his hands in front of the fire.

"I saw," she said.

"What all did he say to you?" Draelo said, turning to Arthus.

Arthus did not stir from the shield, one arm slung over his eyes. "I think you got the gist of it. That food, Kasia, when will it be ready?"

"Enough is ready now if you want some."

"Yeah, sounds good. We can space the feast out," Arthus propped himself up on an elbow. Mars cut a few thick pieces from the meat, taking a large scoop of the vegetables from Kasia. He set it beside the shield.

"Looks good." Arthus lifted the pieces, chewing slowly. After a few repetitions of this he sped up. By the end, he had the clay plate up to his lips, scooping what was left straight to his mouth.

"Where did 'Arcadius' come from?" Mars asked.

Arthus chewed at a piece of fat and shrugged his shoulder. "Some called this world 'Arcadia,' in Aeyr's time. I don't know what the surname means. It has a nice ring to it, though."

Mars nodded. It did have a nice ring to it.

They continued to feed Arthus, lopping off a few pieces for themselves as they went. Draelo brought out the cask of wine, and the starving warrior drank deeply. By the fifth plate he fell into his original pace. His mania faded, and full as he was with wine and food, he leaned back on the shield for the last time, drifting off as he muttered to himself: ranger, rogue, paladin, wizard.

They sat by the fire outside the temple as Arthus slept.

"The meat could use the rest of the day to smoke. We'll have plenty for a few days, and now that I know the area we can forage more as we go," Kasia reported upon returning from the tower. Jo tailed behind. The monkey went over to the fire and picked over the leftovers.

Kasia unrolled a map onto the stone ground. "As to where we go, I'm open to input."

Draelo sprawled out, his eyes over the map. "South," he said. "This forest isn't called Great for nothing, and I ain't messing around with any mountains."

Kasia's eyes glowed as she looked to the north, where the tallest peaks still had caps of snow, even this late in the summer. Still, she nodded.

"There are more towns like Morkop's Keep. If we move back along the borderlands, we can poach more ears and return to town when we need to resupply."

The choice was logical. Mars cut off another slice of meat, taking it with him as he crossed to the stairs. Jo hopped up on his back, chewing away at a piece of fat.

Mars crossed through the ruined town back to the tower. There was still plenty of material he had not yet gone through. At nightfall, the other three arrived. Arthus collapsed on his bedroll in the main room of the house. Draelo and Kasia stayed in the house below. Mars and Jo remained up in the tower. Tomorrow, or the day after, they were to set out.

That was the plan at least. But immersed as he was in the notes of Vos, Mars couldn't shake the thought that plans were beginning to seem a foolish and finicky prospect. His mind went back to that day in Banneker, to a question that had haunted him since then, and only became louder as the days went on.

In the moments before Theodore picked the book up off the ground, was the silver etching of him already marked within the pages? Had it, perhaps, always been there? Or did that mysterious and unseen artist only mark the parchment after it had already happened?

## Chapter 10: Outriders

They awoke the next morning earlier than planned to the wolves howling. Kasia felt it first. Something had disturbed the mountain refuge.

Mars, through Jo, had seen them in his dreams. An army marched beside the river not far from where they stayed. It wouldn't be long before outriders and scouts fell upon the town.

"What's the play?" Draelo said, laying the contents of the smokehouse onto the table in the main room. He and Kasia had been hard at work covering any recent signs of activity they had created.

"If scouts come through, it may be best to lie low," Kasia floated the suggestion.

"To the hells with the scouts. If they come, we kill them. All of them," Arthus said.

"That would lead more here when they don't report back, right?" Draelo asked.

"Are they that organized? Those things seemed pretty dumb when we faced them on the river," Arthus said.

Kasia wrapped the meat up before pouring water into the stone channel, where blood thickened from the week's game. "They smart enough to travel with outriders."

"So what if more come? We keep drawing off the force until the whole army decides to come here, then we make a smooth exit," Arthus said.

"We'll be stuck going north," Draelo said.

Mars poured over the map. Draelo was right. If the army cut them off from the river, they were hedged in by mountains on all sides. The only way back out of the forest was to follow the labyrinth of passes far north, before cutting back to the east. Other passes led to valleys, valleys tucked away and long forgotten. Mars wasn't completely sure, but one appeared to look oddly similar to a sketch he had seen at some point before.

"We go north," Mars said.

"The plan is south."

"We are already cut off," Mars said. The words weren't a complete lie. Even if they left right now, it would be a hard press to keep ahead of any raiders that would inevitably lead the army.

"I call bullshit on that. You got some other ideas cooking up in your head," Draelo said.

Mars didn't respond.

Kasia splashed another bucket into the sluice, turning to him. "Well, do you, Mars?"

Did he? Only if the trail of madman, one who almost certainly perished at the end of it, counted as an idea. Yet there was more than just Vos.

Texts of silver. Words written with arcane runes. An Arch Magus caught by a mysterious fever.

The wolves howled again, louder. The pack had moved closer to them. Jo came down the stairs, swinging into the room from the top of the door frame, before leaping down the stairs. "O-oooooah."

"They're almost here," Arthus said. "I guess that means we go with my plan."

"We'll see." Kasia swept up her bow and threw the quiver over her shoulders. "Draelo, stick with me on the high ground. Look for our direction. We'll try and get you to come behind the main group." The two took their bows and went upstairs.

Arthus took a pile of Draelo's looted treasure and threw it into a cloth sack. He went to the street and threw the bag. Trinkets spilled out in the street. "Maybe that will draw them in."

Mars and Arthus spread out, flanking the street crouched behind the collapsed walls. Mars watched Kasia flash back to them a few rooftops away, holding both hands up with fingers outspread. Ten. She closed her firsts and did it again. Twenty. That changed the situation.

The wolves patrolled the streets behind them, on the other side of the valley from where the scouts arrived.

Kasia disappeared along the rooftop. They waited. The moments stretched on. He and Arthus stared about with cocked ears.

He heard them before he saw them. There was a jostle of weapons and heavy footsteps. An orc bellowed, causing a nasally cry from several goblins. A group turned onto the street. A troop of about seven goblins emerged from around the corner, hunched and ugly with spears in hand. Three orcs led them. Halfway down the street, an orc pricked up.

"Or-meer." One gestured down to the pile of trinkets laying conspicuously in the street.

Arthus waved a hand at Mars. He raised his mace, a quiet glow emanating from the steel like the end of a fire poker heated red hot. The goblins bumbled among the rubble as the orcs closed in to see what treasure they had found.

The three approached the bag slowly, then only twenty yards away, they began racing towards it. The first one descended on the bag, pulling a fine chain of tarnished silver out with its oversized hands. The second, a scarred brute wielding a greatsword, slammed into the creature as it held the chain up to the light, sending it crashing to the stone. The second turned on the third, waving its greatsword in the air. The weapons were notched, but far better than those used by the troop in the borderlands.

"Onnmit!" A brawl broke out between the two as the first regained its feet.

"Mish-cal!" The first bellowed, charging back in. The goblins watched awkwardly from further down, still poking around the rocks. In the end, the first one joined with the third, subduing the older scarred beast. The orc limped away with its greatsword as the other two divided the treasure. The loser picked up its pace, then sprinted towards the nearest goblin. The creature turned at the last moment, raising its spear.

"Beek-ma!" The orc bore down with a final burst of speed, bringing the massive sword down to slash the goblin in two. "Morr-tal!" It screamed at the others, who scurried away.

"Aeyr!" Mars nearly jumped out of his skin as Arthus took the moment to emerge from his hiding place. His war call followed him as he crashed into the two looting orcs. His mace fell on the first beast's stooped head. He recoiled the strike, swinging at the other who raised an axe in defense.

Mars closed in on the other, staff in hand. He delivered two strikes, the first at the orcs knee, buckling the joint inward. The second he delivered to the head, twirling the staff back from the knee and around to connect solidly with hard skull. Arthus swept through, bringing his mace in a side swing that caved in the dying creatures chest.

They turned to see the third orc turn from it's tormented troop of goblins. A look of shock registered across its bestial face.

"Morr tal!" The orc called again, charging towards them. Arthus charged right back, lifting his shield to receive the impact of the orcs slashing greatsword. His left arm brought the mace down to the orc's femur. Mars heard the bone crack even over the sound of the great sword ringing off the steel of Arthus' shield.

The orc grunted a pain-stricken war cry, its shin bone crunching and bending horrifically as it remained on its feet to raise the sword again. Arthus brought his shield up to catch the falling sword as the mace snapped forward into the orc's face. The creature fell backwards onto the dusty stone street.

The goblins scattered across the road. One took a few hops forward. When none of the others followed, it turned and fled. Mars immediately bolted in anticipation of Arthus.

"We can't let them escape!" Arthus charged on.

Mars ran considerably faster, even before Arthus had his large shield. He passed him, rounding the corner as the goblins took a side street. They proved surprisingly fleet despite their small stature, running as they were for life.

Above them, two bowstrings sounded. A bolt and an arrow cut down two before they vanished among the rubble. Ahead of them, the wolves spread across the street, snarling.

"The other group is closing in. Finish them quick!" Draelo called down.

"Make sure they don't send any away!" Mars called back up. Kasia fired again, sending an arrow into a goblin's shoulder. She checked her target before disappearing over the edge of the buildings.

The goblins hesitated upon seeing the wolves, diverging into the ruins. Arthus took off after two into what used to be a general store. Mars followed others into the ruins of a two story house. Through the main room, back in what used to be a kitchen, he found them scraping away at a collapsed doorway leading to a back alley.

"Hey!" The creatures looked pathetic as they scraped away at the stones. Both of the short monsters were almost pleading for the door to reopen as a third covered them from the corner of the room. The guard lifted its spear and backed further into the shadows as its friends kept up the futile effort. The creature's eyes glowed yellow and slitted in the dim light.

Mars hesitated for the slightest moment. The creatures were hideous and wicked little devils, but cornered they looked defenseless.

He stepped forward, parrying the thrust of the defender's spear and bringing the end around to sweep the diminutive monster from its feet. "Col!" It chirped as it smacked the ground.

"Gol, gol!" Another shouted. It turned suddenly, sending a stone flinging forward. He managed to deflect the stone from smashing right into his eye, instead catching it on the brow as he recoiled from the impact. Blood showered over his vision. Through the warm blood, he saw the three rushing upon him, spears stretched out.

Icy fear gripped him deep in his chest as the spear points came closer. He raised his staff in front of him, opening a palm. The fear triggered something, calming his racing mind. Time slowed as he felt the cold terror release him. The energy left his chest and went out to his arms, a burst that pulled the flow of the room to channel through him.

Blue light lit the dim interior like the roof had been ripped off. The energy left him, appearing as a pulse before his open hand. The pulse split into two bolts like a dense fluid of ice-blue comets. The comets struck the lead two goblins. Mars could not tell if they entered the creatures or merely exploded upon impact. If he had to say, he would have said they did both, exploding into the creatures, sending them flying back into the wall.

The third recoiled from the force, giving Mars just enough time to gather himself. He jabbed his staff forward, smashing the steel end hard onto the little monster's skull.

He did not linger, vaulting over the half-wall behind him to find Arthus emerging from the store.

"Those guys are fast," Arthus remarked. His mace dripped with blood. A trail of blood dripped down his right arm. Down the street from them, the wolves scattered. "Here they come."

Mars had been bothered by Arthus' recklessness in the first encounter down by the river. After some thought later, he realized that often it was simply the best way to engage on the offensive, using the forward momentum. Now, in that street with blood dripping into his eye, he found himself right beside Arthus as the warrior bolted straight forward to meet the second group.

Twang. A bolt streaked by, taking an orc in the side. The beast grunted on, snapping the stout shaft off to leave the arrowhead in his body. Behind, others filled the street. The wolves emerged to nip at the heels of a lagging group of goblins.

Arthus met the lead orc shield first, shoving through the downward strike of the creature's axe. Mars met the other that attempted to overpower Arthus from the right, breaking into a whirlwind of strikes that ended with a spear-like thrust that punched the orc back on its heels. The other began to push Arthus back, raining down blows to the shield as he tried to recover. The metallic smacks beat like an off-rhythm drum.

Mars glanced over as a bolt appeared from the axe-wielders throat. The creature slumped forward mid swing, dropping his weapon to clatter off Arthus' shield. Arthus shouldered the writhing body off him in time to take a step forward and meet another orc.

Mars led through his attack, bringing his staff around to connect solidly with the beast's hefty sword arm. The snap of bones registered through the length of his staff, rendering the beast's hefty sword arm suddenly limp. For a moment, he thought the creature may flee, but instead it leaped at him, arms outstretched in a bearhug. Mars rolled further right, almost falling as a hand caught his robes and nearly dragged him to the ground. He swung his staff out to strike out once more as it fell past him.

The orc landed and rolled away, smacking its jaw back into alignment as it regained its feet. Arthus stood engaged with his orc, with the goblins slowed by the snarling wolves.

In the corner of his eye he spotted Draelo's frame emerge from over the edge of a rooftop, his crossbow looking down directly at the street. A bolt stuck through the front of the orcs shoulder and Mars made short work finishing the wounded creature.

As he did, a javelin skittered along the road near him. The goblins had chased the wolves back, some still holding the rear with their spears pointed forward.

The others, stuck between the two fighters and the wolves, chose the former as the rest of the street revealed no cover. Arthus sang as he beat them into the weed covered stones, raising his shining shield to block an odd javelin. The wolves encircled the final holdouts, who soon lost hold of a shoddy perimeter. The fight ended as the remaining goblins were dragged to the ground by the snarling wolves.

Arthus approached the slaughter. "Leave the ears," he said to them. With that he began to loot the bodies.

"Where's Kasia?" Mars called up to the rooftop.

Draelo looked around like a sailor at watch. "Haven't seen her. Ran off to deal with stragglers." Mars let out a breath long held as Draelo ran off.

Kasia met them back in the street of the first melee. "Three ran off." She tossed three bloody ears onto the pile beside Arthus' bag.

"Atta girl. Final tally, not counting the ones being devoured by wolves, comes to seven orcs, and fourteen goblins. That makes thirty ears of the lowly goblin in total, ten of the orc." He glanced up to Draelo as he finished.

"What?"

"Oh I thought I'd just defer to you. Aren't you going to say, 'well, ain't that enough walkin' around the forest for a while, lets go rest up?'"

"Man, get that whack-ass Mr. T. voice outta here. And nah, I wasn't going to say that." Draelo broke into his own impression. "'Because we gonna be going into the mountains, I tell ya. I see the words written by 'da gnomes and in me float'n chicken bones hmph-mhmph.'"

"Careful with that," Mars said through a grin.

"Oh! Careful! Careful about me calling you out for tryna be the magical negro out here, swoopin' in all the way from Earth to save the great forest." Draelo looked around, putting his hand up above his eyes. "Looks good to me."

"You keep coming at me about this, but I'm not the only one steering the ship."

"Yeah, Draelo, I'm still down to go here," Arthus said over his shoulder as he packed the ears away into a sack.

"Oh so I'm the only one who thinks this is crazy. Is that right Catherine?" He focused on his sister.

"Kasia. And I'm sorry, but yes."

Draelo started to walk off.

"Yeah, so quit crying," Arthus called after him.

"Shut up. Theo, stop," Kasia said. Draelo stopped, not turning around. "Come here. Look at me when I'm talking to you."

"God dammit." He wheeled around with his finger pointed at her.

"Shut up," she said before he could get a word out. Draelo paused. His finger lowered. "Listen to me. Look around. Really look around. We are here. If there is a way home, it's not going to be easy. We have to commit to these lives, in this world. You need to let go of the other, let go even of the monastery for a while. What's your problem with that?"

Draelo fumbled for a moment, searching for words. He ran a hand through his outgrown hair. "It ain't so bad here," he said. "There, I admit it. But, this isn't a game, and I don't have a problem. Y'all are out here galavantin' like the dream team of monster slaying, but we're still human. Even with the help of knock-off brand Thor, Marshall's Green Mile act, and you acting like Queen Artemis, we're still human. I seem to be the only one remembering that."

He took a few steps in closer. "You guys are the only family I have anymore. Can you imagine what it'd be like to lose even one of us? Arthus, I saw that orc beating down on your shield and I nearly crapped my pants aiming in on him."

They stood silent for a moment in the street.

Mars spoke first. "You're right, this isn't a game. Those axes," he kicked one from where it lay beside a fallen orc, "can take our heads off as easily as an arrow can find one of them. It's dangerous, and we certainly can't get cocky after only two battles with B squad fighters." Draelo nodded his head along. "But at the same time, this is it. This is what we gotta do, and at the risk of going against what I just said, we can admit that we have all been plenty worse at other things. Aside from that, Draelo, the way is forward. We could kill a million goblins, or sit around at the monastery for a hundred years, and get nowhere closer to understanding why we're here."

Mars turned to Arthus. "In both fights, I've been right at your side. I don't like how you act sometimes, and I don't like feeling like I can't reach you when we're in the thick of things. Chill. Use your head before you lose it."

"Exactly," Draelo continued to nod. "That's all I've been wanting to say."

"So you'll continue with us?" Arthus asked. "And quit griping so much?"

He sighed, letting the crossbow droop at his side. "The gold ain't going to find itself. By the way, using my finds to lure those guys in," Draelo threw his chin to the bag of treasure in the street. Two dead orcs lay beside it. "Not cool."

"Alright then. Now we have that out of the way, there will be another party coming through," Mars looked over the bodies. "Where do we go from here."

"I had an idea about that, actually," Draelo said. He looked down the street, where the wolves were picking over the best meat of the corpses.

They got down to the grisly business of staging a natural looking slaughter. The bodies, those with arrow wounds and other obvious signs of combat, they dragged away into the ruins. The most gnawed bodies, they left scattered in full view.

As the day grew later, the group met back at the tower for a short meal. Mars tried his hand at recreating the alarm rune, placing it in the center of the street by an authentically devoured goblin body. After eating, they found positions where the trap would be laid. Each made themselves comfortable in a position, polishing weapons, tending arrows, and clearing more signs of their stay. Mars sent Jo out into the forest before the valley. He tried again to reach out and see through the creature's eyes. But the energy he had felt earlier was faint.

"They'll likely come at night." Kasia called from the top of a building.

Mars looked up and down the street, seeing nothing helpful. "Hopefully it's a bright one."

The warparty did come at night. Mars had been dozing for several hours, dreaming of the evening gloom of the treetops when the first sounds carried to Jo's ears. First, came the clatter of weapons as they jostled into each other. Then, the sound of boots, heavy boots, pounding the ground.

Mars awoke, seeing out of his own eyes again. "Hey!" He called.

Kasia was the only one awake. The other two soon popped up.

"There are too many to fight in the dark. We need to wait until morning." He climbed to his feet. "Come on!"

"How many?" Arthus said, joining Mars as he started off down the street.

"Twenty at least. Large, heavily armed orcs."

"No more B team, then."

Kasia and Draelo joined them at the tower. "Where should we go?"

"I know a place. We can see the town well, and they won't be able to get there." She led them off towards the temple of Aeyr. Diverting from the base of the stairs, she climbed to the left up the slope. "A little further. Up here."

They found themselves walking across a thin ridge in the rock, no more than a palm wide. At the end, a shallow cave lay open to the sky over the temple.

"You were spying on me here, weren't you?" Arthus said, looking down over the entrance to the temple.

"Maybe a little. Had to check on you somehow."

Arthus slumped at the back of the hollow. "If they march on the temple, I'm going in. With or without you guys."

The orcs, by some strange happening, did not march on the temple or come very close at all. Through the night the four listened to the grunts and calls of the berserkers as they picked over the ruins, few meandering closer than the nearest collapsed structure to the stone staircase. After seeing the gnarled carcasses of the goblins, they seemed to lose interest in the business and made camp in the middle of an intersection. A heavy plume of smoke rose from among the buildings.

Mars felt the alarm nudge at him as the orcs passed by, again and again.

The warparty kept camp until morning. Some rose with the sun and milled about, waiting as most of the force lay around undisturbed.

"We should hit them now," Arthus said. He and Mars had drawn the final watch.

Mars shook the others awake. "Dawn. Most are still sleeping."

"Lets go." Kasia rolled her pack up. "Leave your gear. Only essentials." She led them back along the ridge. In the town, they kept to the alleys and rooftops. Closer to the intersection, two orcs sleeping on a platform over the street.

"Wait here," Draelo whispered. He slung the crossbow over his shoulder. "I got this."

Slowly, like a stalking cat, he slipped along the rooftops closer to his prey. Mars saw the sun catch the edge of a steel dagger as Draelo's tall form slipped over the final wall of cover. From where they stood, they watched as he slid from the shadows and pushed the blade first into the eye of one, and then the other sleeping orc. He beckoned them over. "Three awake down there. Five sleeping," he whispered.

Arthus peeked his head over the edge. Draelo, give me that crossbow."

"Why?"

"See that one? If you can get in close enough to sneak up on him, me and Kasia can take out the other two. Then it'll be a slaughter."

The slaughter began. Arthus laid with the crossbow propped over the edge as Draelo moved into position. Draelo fell upon his orc, gliding from an alley to where a brute half-dozed on a pile of rocks. The bowstrings snapped, the heavy slap of the crossbow, and the more elegant thrum of the Kasia's bow.

Arthus cursed. The arrow sliced through the throat of an orc, dropping it to the ground to gasp like a fish. The punch of steel on iron sounded from the bolt, aimed too low, pounding through the cuirass of Arthus' target. A bellow filled the street as blood ran from the creature's midsection.

"Shrosh komash!"

Draelo's orc fell forward like a sack of onions, blood pouring from its throat. The orc with the bolt sticking from it looked over at him standing flat footed, blood dripping from his dagger.

Mars glided from his own hiding place, bringing his staff around in a wide arc into the neck of the yelling orc. Around them, the others were rising.

Arthus and Kasia dropped down from the ruins of the building. Mars danced out a few steps from camp, striking the arm of one orc reaching to grab its weapon. The second and third strikes fell on the creature's head.

Kasia fired two arrows nearly point blank at another rising as Arthus slammed his mace down onto a slower one still on the ground. The last two backed towards an alley, whooping loudly.

"Aeyr!" Arthus said before dropping his mace to the ground. "Ah, ow!" The shield, his arm still fastened to it, pulled him to the ground as if his arm had gone dead.

"Others!" Kasia pointed down the street. Three brutes in heavy armor approached from around the corner. The sight of them emboldened the other two cornered by a stone wall.

"What's the problem?" Draelo yelled, facing off at the two orcs who were readying a charge.

"I don't know. The mace became hot, it almost seared my hand. Shit," Arthus unstrapped his shield and reached across the ground, grabbing a handaxe from the grip of a dead orc in one hand, tearing a spear from the ground in his other. "I don't think Aeyr is cool with slaughtering enemies while they sleep," he said, grunting the last word as he heaved the spear forward.

Mars stepped beside Draelo. "We have to-"

Arthus picked up his step, sprinting after the spear towards the two orcs. "Give me strength, lord of righteous war. I atone!" The spear turned from one's chestpiece, deflecting off the leather and iron high and to the right. Arthus didn't seem to care, charging in as Kasia planted an arrow in the lighter armor of one of the orcs' thighs.

Mars and Draelo followed after him, dodging the wide swing of an axe. Draelo ducked in, slashing the longer blade of his sword towards the orc;s throat. The blade fell short, biting into chain mail as the axe swept around, the orc bringing it into an overhead swing.

Mars slammed into the side of the beast, the impact jarring him as they both stumbled. The axe flew out in another wide arc as the orc fell to the ground. Mars and Draelo pounced on it.

Arthus took a step back from the other orc, who laid out on the ground with an axe sticking from its chest. A bowstring snapped behind them.

"They're coming!" Kasia yelled.

"Where's my crossbow?" Draelo shouted.

"Forget it, lets go," Mars said. Down the street, three more of the armored brutes lumbered towards them.

Arthus went over to his weapons, scooping up the mace along with another spear. Kasia fired another arrow, the point clattering off the thick iron helm of the leader.

Draelo made contact first, diving into a roll across the stone ground as an axe swept overhead. He regained his feet behind the orc, who turned to swing again.

Mars sidestepped another charging berserker, missing the powerful downstroke of a great sword. He brought his staff through, smacking the helmet from the orcs head as the steel banded stave cracked the brute beneath its huge jaw. He jumped back to avoid a wild swing as the unhelmed creature swept its sword high and around, avoiding the edge by a few inches. They faced off, Mars dodging another slash and landing his longer staff on the orcs unprotected head, staggering it. An arrow screamed by, only a few short feet from Mars ears, halting with the point protruding three inches of bloody steel from the back of the orc's thick skull.

Arthus and Draelo each stood engaged with their own. Mars made a quick judgement, seeing Draelo's opponent had an arrow through the thigh and had also received a nasty slash below the helm, he joined Arthus, who seemed to be stalemated by a much larger foe.

Mars glided over the road and passed behind the beast, delivering a blow to its shin as the creature planted heavily onto a left boot. The beast buckled on the injured leg, but kept its feet. Mars brought the staff around, feeling the impact of wood on iron, the clatter ringing like a kicked bucket as he connected with the orc's helm. The brute staggered long enough for Arthus to run the point of his spear through the iron cuirass. The mace followed from low, dropping the beast.

Draelo had worked his orc to the ground, standing over the bleeding creature like a bullfighter. He kicked away its last attempt at defense, a warhammer lifted weakly from where it kneeled, before slashing its throat.

Kasia screamed from the rooftop. They looked up, freezing to the sight of two orcs vaulting onto the roof she stood on. One raised a javelin, the other an axe.

Mars felt the fear of that when the goblins closed on him. He saw the blue light filling the ruined house, feeling the arcane channel through to his open palm. The feeling calmed him as the creatures closed on Kasia. He reached into a pocket of his robes, eyes fixed on the scene. He felt the energy build on him as it was stolen from the two orcs.

Steely calm, his fingers reached into a pocket of his robes, some internal logic selecting a few of the trinkets: a smooth rod of glass, the faceted shards of a sun-orange mineral, and a round silver sphere like a large ball bearing. He felt an energy difference building, as if he and the orcs were two different leads of a massive battery. With the flick of a hand, he cast the objects before him. The surge jumped from his hand and through the components. Thunder boomed in the street and echoed over the ruined town.

Draelo slowed as he sprinted towards the building, looking to vault a pile of loose stones up to the wall. Lightning cracked the air over him, wild bolts leaping to rebalance the potential difference between Mars and the orcs. Ozone and electricity filled the air as the crackling bolts jumped between the components and the leading orc. The main spear grabbed the leading beast full in the chest, bursts running out along its limbs to leap from its weapon into the other beside it.

Mars slid back a few feet along the stone, feeling the energy rebalance between him and the rooftop. The components, or what remained of them, fell charred to the ground.

On the roof, one of the attackers had fallen to its knees, black smoke rising from where its chestplate had burst open like a tin can. The other had fallen over. Mars watched the thick muscle along the creature's arms spasm violently below a carpet of burnt fur, squeezing the javelin still wrenched in its hand.

Kasia composed herself as she drew her shortsword, stabbing downward through a gap in the armor above the throat. The orc's muscles slowly released. The javelin rolled from its hand.

Draelo climbed to the roof as Kasia finished the creature. He looked back to Mars, who stood where the force of the bolt had pushed him back.

"What was that?" he asked from beside a slightly less puzzled Kasia.

Arthus made his best Hagrid voice. "You're a wizard, Marshall."

"Whatever it is, we'll need more of it." Kasia pulled her blade from the orc. "The others will be here soon." She paused for a moment, scanning the area. "Do you hear that?"

Mars listened. Music filled the valley of the town. He heard a lute beneath a solemn voice. The sound seemed to be more in his mind, though he could hear it echoing softly off the stone. As the voice climbed to a crescendo, an owl swooped down towards Kasia.

Orcs grunted from somewhere in the town. Others screamed back in battle-rage.

"Homlin!" Kasia called as the owl landed on her arm. "Ilias' owl."

Five orcs spilled onto the street they stood on. Armor clanked as the group turned towards them, running. Arthus and Mars readied themselves as the group approached, though none of the berserkers raised arms in response.

An arrow cut through the iron plate of the slowest one, dropping it to slide along the stone street. The orcs swerved away from Arthus who had taken point in the center, not seeming interested in a fight. Arthus pressed, slamming the leader in the side and falling into a pile of rubble as it tried to slip by. Kasia dropped the one behind it with a shot that landed deep in the beast's gut.

More arrows swept down the street from unseen locations: two flew side by side to kill one orc, and three more in rapid succession that drilled into the last's breastplate within inches of each other.

In seconds of Arthus making contact with the leader, all five lay dead in the street. Draelo and Mars had only stood watching. Kasia had fired once. "How many archers? I counted five shots."

"Two archers," a rugged voice said.

"Three from my bow, and two from his," a melodic one added.

Ilias and Rylan stood on a rooftop further down the street, each with a bow in hand. Arrows bristled over the two ranger's shoulders from full quivers.

"Placement of the arrows is more important than the number of them."

"All the better if you have both," Ilias responded sweetly.

Draelo nearly tripped over a loose plank as he jumped back from the sudden presence. He recovered and looked from the two newcomers to his sister. "How did you find us?" He said.

Rylan climbed down the front of the building into the street and walked through the carnage towards them. Arthus looked up from where he crouched beside the bodies, lopping ears off with his knife. They rose at the approach of the two rangers.

"Mars, Arthus. Good to see you all in one piece."

"How did you find us?" Draelo repeated, still from the rooftop.

Rylan brushed a strand of his black hair back towards a leather tie that held the locks in a braid. "Kasia told us the path you four were to follow. Captain Yusor confirmed you had taken the Westmarch, and we found the remains of a melee in the borderlands. It was not difficult to track from there to these ruins."

"When we saw the orcs marching, we had feared you four had fallen," Ilias said.

"We've been here for over a week. The army has sent two groups to scout these ruins," Kasia replied.

Ilias nodded. "The army has halted down near the border of the hills and the forest. It was difficult for us to sneak by. They will send a much larger contingent here to clear the ruins now that the berserkers are dead. We must leave."

"I suppose you have your ears?" Rylan said, beckoning towards the leather bag that bulged at Arthus' side.

"With the berserkers we killed today, there are thirty-one goblin ears, and almost the same amount of the orc."

"Impressive. You are nearly to your goal."

"This is a most active summer," Ilias filled in with her honey voice. "We must get back and warn the monastery of the army immediately."

"We can't go back," Mars said, breaking his contemplation.

Ilias fixed her gaze to him, orbs of gold studying him closely. "Why?" The single word sounded like a whole song.

"If it is the ears you worry about, we must venture far to the north and east. We will certainly get the remainder on the trek back," Rylan said. "Warning the monastery of this force is a much greater deed than any ears you fall short of."

"It isn't that. An old master named Vos passed through here. He stayed in that tower some time ago and has gone. I've studied his notes, and I think what he was on the trail of has to do with our arrival here."

Ilias' probing look faltered. "Vos," she muttered.

"Yes, we know he stayed here for a short time. It was of my mind that he intended to drift off into the forest, lose himself as a druid. It happens from time to time, to those of a certain disposition. I watched him for a while, worried he may not make it far, or that he might change his mind." Rylan glanced at the tower. "Why would you want to follow after him?"

The owl, Homlin, flew to Ilias' shoulder. "You feel the same pull he did, don't you?" She asked softly.

To anyone else, Mars would not have wanted to acknowledge that 'pull' he felt, that 'pull' which drove a man mad and likely to his death. But he knew Ilias, an elf, was no stranger to those odd flights of fancy, those yearnings and premonitions that language often fails to express.

Kasia adjusted her quiver, her eyes out towards the mountains. She looked sharp, gripped by a certain inspired recklessness. A quick thought crossed Mars' mind: why had he assumed he was the only one who felt this way?

He nodded, bearing the strange look that came his way from Rylan's practical and steely eyes.

Illias floated the next question gently. "Have you seen it?"

"I've seen something. I don't know exactly what."

Rylan looked to the elven woman with a puzzled look similar to Arthus' and Draelo's. "What have you seen?" He asked, unsure which of them to direct the question to.

"Pages etched in gold. A tree swallowing a boy. The tribes marching. A mountain pass. Beneath the mountains: halls of silver." Ilias looked to the north as Mars spoke. Her gaze was similar to Kasia's, but the yearning held a note of great sorrow. "I know you've seen it, too. Maybe you've been there. That song you sang to us, the one about the rogue..."

"Yes. I've been there." Ilias turned away from Rylan. "With Aevalur."

"Aevalur?" Rylan said. "So that is what happened to him?"

Ilias looked at the ground.

"The scoundrel! He accompanied me to check on Vos... It was he who declared the trail cold upon Vos' disappearance. I trusted him, and you participated in this deceit? What say you for this?"

"I was young, and adventure called. He is my uncle, Rylan."

"He is a common rogue," Rylan spat. "What became of Vos, then?"

Ilias said nothing.

"Do you know the way?" Kasia asked.

"I'll send Homlin with a letter to Yune-Wais," the elf said quietly. She looked up to Mars and Kasia. "We should guide the otherworlders in this quest."

Rylan sighed. "I pitied Vos and his visions, and I fear for young Mars Arcadius for having acquired a touch of his fever. It is a great evil to burden the young with the sins of those who came before. But if you are to go, I shall lend my blade. May we find what it is you two speak of.

"We will vouch for your bounty if we make it back home. For now, leave those ears here. I fear we will have plenty more to slay along the path."

The four returned to the tower to clear out what remained of the camp. Mars took one last look through the study as Arthus stashed the ears away, as Kasia packed the rest of the forage, and as Draelo gathered his loot. Ilias leaned in the doorway behind him, gazing about the room.

Mars had seen that look before, carried it himself, even. It was the look of someone entering the room of someone who would never return to it again.

Vos was dead.

The group met the two rangers at the stair of the temple where Arthus led a prayer to Aeyr for the journey. His shield glowed as he kneeled before the statue.

Ilias led them towards the northern mountains, travelling beneath the midday sun.

#  Part III: Trail of the Forgotten

## Chapter 11: The Northern Pass

The Bastions lay far behind them when Mars again felt the call of the alarm rune. It carried over that thread on the breeze that weaved through all things, nudging his mind, dozens of times before he finally tuned it out.

Ilias led them away from the town long into the night across the lowlands before the Dragon Spines, a mountain range that ran north and west across the forest.

Jo travelled among them, ranging out far ahead and to their flanks. Now, under the direction of the seasoned rangers, the group made camp some time into the night within a thick grove beside a stream. When the sun rose again they continued. The land climbed slowly towards the first range. For a day and a half of the shortening Suna hours they navigated tributaries flowing to the Westmarch, several frostfall streams that carved through rocky land and fertile meadows.

The air became thinner as Ilias found the beginning of the Northern Pass, more of a network than a single trail, that climbed high among the peaks and down along valleys of the range.

"We've been lucky so far. The army must have drawn off many creatures from this area," Rylan remarked as they left the riverlands behind.

"We will see our fair share. Gnolls, if not orcs."

Ilias' words proved prophetic, for on the second night on the pass Jo spotted a camp of the monsters ahead of them. A tribe of the upright beasts with the heads of canines marched in strength along the path towards them. Ilias and Rylan discussed the situation as Mars described the scene that had visited him while dreaming.

"There are many side paths. We could easily move around them and use the terrain to our advantage to kill any smaller groups," the black-haired ranger said.

"The smaller paths are heavy with deadfalls, switchbacks, and caves filled with all manner of monsters. Besides that, any force we can keep from bolstering the army will help our comrades."

"How many then?" Rylan asked, turning to Mars.

"Fifty. Terrifying creatures, but they are thin and poorly armed."

Rylan glanced over the group of Acolytes. "We do not have the force to kill fifty gnolls," he replied dryly. "The leaner ones tend to be the most ferocious."

"Have faith, my friend. A plan will unravel," Ilias replied.

They scattered the makeshift camp along the pass, climbing along and above towards where a steep wall rose. "Kasia and I shall stay here. The rest of you..." Ilias pointed ahead to a slope. A ramp of loose rock and boulders lay ahead, half fallen over the pass. "Mars?"

Mars turned to the elf.

"Is there anything you can do to encourage those rocks to fall across the pass?"

He studied the rockslide. Further up, a huge slab of rock hung dangerously to a sheer wall. "There might be something."

"Make it happen, on my call. Stay out of the way when it does."

The group took positions and waited. The archers sitting along the steep walls with Arthus, Mars, and Rylan closer to the path. Mars studied the wall further, trying not to panic as the minutes passed with nothing occurring to him. The stress he felt coming from Rylan, a man with no patience for magical tricks, did not help.

The first gnolls began passing an hour later, a tight column of the monsters holding nasty weapons strapped tight with leather and hide. At the front and rear of the long column, loud drums hammered a marching beat.

Mars waited. At last, the signal came as three flaming arrows streaked down to burst into embers upon hitting the lean and hairy creatures. A drummer fell, the log covered in skin rolling away as chaos erupted.

He heard the sounds fading away as he focused on the crumbling wall far up the mountain. The deep grunts of gnolls, quickening beat of drums, and thrum of arrows carried over the cliff. He felt the energy of the melee swirling with the arcane.

The energy built. An arrow skittered by, instantly dissipating it all, leaving him back in reality.

"Mars!" Ilias called. "Do it now!"

He looked over the path. A steep cliff fell to his left. The wolf-men, warriors with axes and clubs charged down the path. To the left, archers climbed the slope with their bows.

The sight of the surging column, so many shaggy-furred monsters surging with their weapons held high, gripped him by the throat. Arthus stepped forward to meet the fastest of the horrifying creatures. He raised his shield, a lone man with a sheet of steel against a wave of terror. A gnoll yelped, the sound high and horrible as a flaming arrow struck it. The creature stumbled and was trampled by the others right behind.

The smell of burnt flesh and hair mixed with the odor of sweat and hot stone.

The chaos unified as music filled the air.

"Fall blooms upon us, sweet September hints."

His eyes drifted up to the sky. A blank page filling his vision. "Upon the mountain pass, a feeling in the air." Ink began to darken the page. Sonic, Concussion, Cone. The words surrounded a rune that he held carefully, directing the center of the image upward. More bows leaped and thrummed. Arrows clattered off the rock. One skittered off Arthus' shield, falling from the cliff. "Destiny upon us. A thread so easily sever-ed." The energy began flowing through him again, drawing from the chaos, filling his chest and arms, and the space directly in front of him. He swept his palms in an arc to meet in front of him. "The legions of the west, doom quickening black hearts within their chests."

"Sheik!"

The energy seemed to explode, joining at the strike of his hands with a boom that nearly knocked him from his feet. He almost released the full surge early in fear of being thrown backwards off the cliff. Wind swept by to fill the void as the cone screamed up the slope to shake the rock.

A boulder peeled away from the cliff face as the turbulence struck, tumbling down the gravel slope and dragging more rock and earth along with it. Another boulder followed, then another, until Mars could no longer count because of the dust being kicked up. The boulders rolled and rubble swept, wiping the pass and sweeping dozens of gnolls over the edge. A final landslide of gravel and more rock washed down.

Arrows rained down on those lucky enough to not be in the zone of the tumbling rocks. Arthus shouldered a gnoll off the cliff as Rylan buried his sword into another.

The music stopped as Ilias seemed to float away. Kasia and Draelo ducked into cover until the landslide ended. When they emerged, the slope had fallen down completely over the pass. Gnoll bodies were crushed beneath the rubble.

At the end, Ilias sat atop her cliff with a lute in hand. Mars had not seen the instrument before, yet there she sat strumming the chords.

"And the creatures marched on, great steel and iron flash-ing in the hunt for blood. They knew not the arms would never be wielded, as Mars Arcadius awaited them, the young mage who's magic never yielded."

Her voice filled the air as the other three scanned the wreckage below. Mars could feel the arcane weaving through the strings of her lute, dancing to the melody of her voice.

"The battle of the Northern Pass ended in the tribe's destruction. The Whistling Gnolls never set out in war a-gain." The elven ranger laughed as the lute disappeared, leaving a bow at her side. Her white hair followed as she dropped from the cliff, landing lightly on the pass thirty feet below.

"Destruction, indeed," Rylan remarked. "By the Gods, if only the Stoics could see!"

Mars looked over the slaughter. Draelo finished off a gnoll who snarled and panted with its back against a rock, blood matting its brown fur where a bolt lodged deep in its lung.

"What happened?" Kasia said. "You hesitated."

"Harnessing the arcane requires a clear mind. It is a dangerous gambit, for nothing has the potential to disturb or settle one like fear," Ilias said. "Nothing less to settle it of course, but song," she finished with a clever grin.

Arthus grunted as he replaced his mace, no longer glowing, into a sheath beside him. "Sounds fickle. I prefer steel."

"Aye," Rylan agreed. "In all respect, I'd prefer our fate not left again to the nerves of one young acolyte."

They encountered no more monsters for two days, the end of which was marked by the pass winding through a valley between two towering peaks. A stone arch bridged the gap overhead to connect the mountains. Beyond, a maze of deep chasms formed a valley between the mountains, faces of sheer rock plunging into the ground like great wounds in the world. The chasms faded slowly into darkness hidden from the sun. At various depths, platforms sat like shelves in the rock, large enough to hold grottos of trees and even ponds.

"Here we are. One could get lost in these lands for a century. Many have," Ilias remarked, looking up towards the arch as they passed through.

"A place scarcely found. No wonder, in this terrain." Arthus said, taking in the scene. Across the chasmed valley rose three mountains, the middle one rising high to snow-capped summits. "We cross. The entrance lies deep in the stone, between two elder trees."

Jo peeked out from atop the arch high overhead. Her whoops called down to them. "Wa-oo!"

"I see them, too. A thousand, maybe more, marching in three columns," Ilias responded.

"A thousand what?" Draelo said.

"Orcs marching under a Golamesh banner."

"Do they march to join the others?" Rylan asked.

"It'd be more accurate to say the others are awaiting them," Ilias said.

"Are there outriders? If we can disrupt them, draw them away for longer..." Arthus began. He stopped when he saw the look on the elven woman's face.

"No, we must focus on the mission. This chief is strong with his god. Better to stay away. Hobgoblins have joined his cause." She spat the word. Ilias crossed beneath the archway. The path wound along the gorge, hugging a mountain ridge. "I know a crossing, we can slip by."

She led them on, stopping hours later at a path that ran down along the one they followed. Smoke trails rose into the air in the forest across the trench and along the slopes. Mars had to look from several different angles, sure that he would never have seen the side trail without Ilias leading. The path plunged downward, parallel to the pass. She led them down and down, and finally back into the rock below. They emerged from a cave, on a platform far below the pass. A ridge ran along the rock, tucked back to where one could not see the path from above.

"This path will lead us deeper below." Ilias pointed along the trench as it fell to the massive platforms of stone. A band of absolute blackness ran between the two sides of the chasm. "It runs about the mountains. In line with that ridge," her finger found a peak on the tallest mountain. "Is the entrance."

War cries came from above them. They were like those of goblins, but deeper and more lucid. The sharp commands rose over the snarls like that of a great wolf.

"Hobgoblins," Rylan spat.

Ilias fled along the path, slowly sloping downward. "There is a cave here. If they press us, that is the best place to fight." The trail hooked back and down on itself into the rock. "Down here," Ilias waved them through.

Rylan led them deeper as she caught up. "This will change the path we take. More dangerous, but more hidden."

The cave ended in a small opening facing out over the steep gorge. Water running down from above had drilled it out over centuries, leaving it now like a dry chute. Ilias slid through the hole, not much larger than the wheel of a cart. She peaked back through to the others.

"Mars, come." Ilias took a hold of him as he maneuvered around onto the ledge she stood on. Kasia and Draelo slid out next, one after another.

"They're coming!" Rylan called from the cave. "Arthus, get out there!"

Arthus' golden hair did not appear in the hole.

"I said go!" The sound of steel on steel echoed from the cave as Rylan drew his sword from the scabbard. A loud snarl followed the grinding of more metal.

Mars peeked back in the cave to see the glow of Arthus' shield and mace. A red-skinned creature that looked like a cross between a goblin and a man, heavily armed and armored, held his spear out towards the two. The weapons were unlike those of the tribes they had been fighting, even better than the shock troops that came to Westpoint. A steel point extended over the back of a massive, hideous, and hairless wolf mount. Rylan slid a dagger from a sheath in the small of his back, flinging it from behind Arthus' glowing shield. The dagger went point-first into the mouth of the wolf as a yelp echoed in the cave.

The wolf bucked and rolled as it pawed at the dagger wedged in it's maw.

"Neget!" The rider yelled, chainmail clattering as he rolled off the front of his beast. The hobgoblin rose, dropping its spear in the small space. Arthus lunged forward, his mace clattering off the wall as the creature stepped back and drew a sword.

Mars moved aside as Rylan climbed out. The sound of crushed chain mail followed. The raven-haired ranger turned around. He and Draelo took hold of the shield and helped Arthus through. The snarls and yelps of the wolf followed.

"More are close," Arthus said.

"Aye. The cavalry will not be able to follow us, but others will. We must lose them." Ilias dropped from the ledge to another below, sliding along it as it sloped further downward. She produced a rope, tying it around a knob of rock.

Kasia, and then Mars followed her down the rope, feeling it shake as the others took hold of it above him. They slid down.

"It'll be a drop from here." Ilias let go, drifting down several feet to a platform below. Mars scanned the rocky shelf, noting a grotto of twisted trees far from the end of the rope. He dropped next, rolling as he fell on the hard ground. Draelo did the same, dropping shortly behind him. Arthus came next, clattering on the rock. Rylan almost landed on him as he fell, maneuvering in the air to roll off to the side.

"Ah! I think I rolled my ankle," Arthus leaned back on his shield, pulling his boot up. Rylan rolled to his feet, aiming up with his bow. He let go of the bowstring, sending up an arrow which clunked off the rock and skittered along to fall into the trench. The rope fell down into a coil beside him. He turned to Arthus.

"It's alright. Drink this," Rylan rustled through his pack, producing a vial. Arthus drank deep from the vial and began to stand.

"Oh. Yeah, I think it'll be okay. What is this stuff?" He stood back up, testing his footing.

Ilias had gone to the edge of the platform they found themselves on.

"How far down does it go?" Kasia asked her.

"Hundreds of feet. I didn't want to do it this way, but we'll have to cross here. There are caves that wind through. We can follow them to the entrance."

"Is it the netherdark?" Draelo asked, coming up behind.

"No, not these caves. Where this trench goes, though..."

"How do we cross?" Mars looked across the gully. At the level they stood, it would take a miraculous throw to get a grapple lodged on anything solid enough to hold the line.

"Well, we only need to get one across with the end of a rope. Who is the best jumper?"

Mars and Draelo looked at each other and then again to the gap. "Does it matter?" Draelo said.

"Don't be a fool. I didn't mean here." Ilias glanced over the edge. Further down, a cliff similar to the one they were on jut outward towards a bulge of rock on the other side of the trench.

Draelo followed her eyes. "I'm still wondering."

Jo climbed up on Mars back. He had forgotten about the creature during the chase, but she somehow made it back to them. A small smile spread across Ilias' face as she looked at the monkey.

"What about her?"

Mars knew the question would be coming. He patted the creature on the head. "It's her decision. She's light, we could easily vault her over the gap to that platform."

Jo oohed and awed, jumping from Mars onto Rylan. The ranger held still while she rummaged around in his pack.

"I'd say that is a yes. Tie the line to her tight. Hopefully she knows how to do the rest."

"Ah! Ah!"

Rylan fastened the line, wrapping it in an X around Jo's small chest and shoulders. He laid the rest of the line out, throwing a few dozen feet into the trench. It formed a narrow U between Jo and Ilias.

"We'll do it like a basket toss," Arthus said.

"A what?" Rylan said.

"Nevermind. Just watch." Arthus grabbed Mars and Draelo. "Just like at the pregame rally's. On three."

"Man, I never went to those dumb things," Draelo said.

Jo climbed into the cradle, standing on the three men's hands. Mars began counting out, moving his hands to make sure the other two were synced up.

"Three!" They all heaved, sending Jo up and over the edge as she leaped from their hands. Mars let out a low sigh as she flew out and towards the higher platform, still high in the air as she disappeared over the edge.

"Just that easy," Arthus said as the rope uncoiled more. Rylan pulled the spare amount, little it was, and tied his end to a thick root.

"Ought to hold there." Rylan walked towards the edge. "I'll go first, just in case."

A tug came from the other end as he took hold, climbing like a sloth up the line and out over the chasm. He vanished onto the other platform for a moment as he found solid ground, peeking back over. "Looks good on this end. Come on!"

They followed over. Mars took a moment to look down as he reached the center of the line. The cliff he moved towards lay about four feet higher, and maybe a dozen and a half feet away from the other platform. Even at midday, with Suna well overhead, rays of the fading red light only travelled so far into the massive trench. He could make out more shelves and ridges, crumbling walls and sheer faces, all falling away into pure blackness.

What wonders could be found down in those dark passages?

"Mars, the line won't hold forever," Arthus' voice brought him back around.

"Right." Mars crawled across the last few feet and over the edge to join them.

Arthus smacked him on the arm. "You good, man?"

"Yeah. It's just something, is all."

"Something it is. But we got a lot more of it to cover."

The cliff they stood on now stood against the chasm wall much smaller than the other. The rock shelf gave way to a stand of pillars towards the walls. The pillars stood narrow or collapsed in a landscape of stalagmites that ran into holes and arching windows of the rock face.

"Follow," Ilias commanded, moving among the pillars towards the wall that towered overhead. She led them into the first opening, turning to a path that ran askew the gorge deeper into the rock. The path ran along with similar holes and windows that looked back over the expanse of where they came from. Mars looked out from numerous such gaps, staring into the shaded landscape.

Overtime, these windows faded away as they travelled deeper below ground.

"We are well on the path now," Ilias remarked as they strode in the darkness. No more windows had appeared for some time.

"Oooh!" Jo called, scraping away at Mars' bag.

"Oh, yeah." Mars dug through his bag, producing one of the gilled mushrooms from Vos' study. Blue-green light case a haze in the tunnel, still dark, but much better than before.

"Pass one of those up to me," Ilias said from the lead.

Mars passed one to Arthus before him, who was illuminated himself with the golden light of his weapons. Arthus passed it forward further to reach the front where Ilias led.

They travelled in the glow of weapon and mushroom through the winding tunnel. From Mars reckoning, they must have moved half a dozen miles along the canyon and nearly a mile into the rock before coming to a split in the tunnel.

"Which way?"

"The right one looks to keep us closer to the chasm. Over here will take us deeper. Ilias?" Rylan said.

The half-elf stood at the break in the tunnel, a dagger glowing softly in her off hand beside the mushroom.

"I hear something down this way," she responded, guiding the point of her dagger to the path winding back to the right.

"I hear nothing." Draelo crept closer to where she stood.

"In the rock. Vibrations," Ilias kneeled to the ground. "There aren't many, and they aren't large."

"So we should go that way?" Arthus asked.

"Whatever creatures they are, this is their home. We'd be at a severe disadvantage to get in a melee here. It would be the best path, however."

"They aren't very interested in remaining hidden if you can hear them," Kasia remarked.

"Perhaps. Arthus, you advance first. Keep that shield up, they'll hear us well before we reach them."

Arthus raised his right arm, the shield casting soft shadows down the tunnel. In his left hand, he held the mace tucked at his side. Ilias and Rylan, squeezing at points where the tunnel narrowed, kept behind, flanking with drawn bows. Mars suspected the elf had better vision in the tunnels than her human companions did. He kept his own mushroom close to aid Kasia and Draelo around him. The passage became slow in such formation, but they made progress.

"There is a cavern up here. They know we are coming." The tunnel twisted even further to the right. Ilias put a hand on Arthus' shoulder. He stopped.

Slowly, she pushed him forward around the bend.

Clank, clank..clank. Two arrows skittered away across the rock as they bounced from the glowing shield. A third skewed off high, bouncing again off the ceiling, breaking in half and falling down around Kasia.

Ilias yanked Arthus back with one hand, the other waving in front of her. Mars recognized the feeling of arcane energy channeling through her, building softly in her hands. The entire feel of the magic the elven woman gathered was of a different flavor than that he felt. Ilias' magic seemed to flow from a more subtle emotion. She leaned around the corner, casting the gathered magic into the gloom.

Shadows danced on the wall as the primal shrieks and screams of goblins echoed in a cavernous space.

"Go!" Ilias gave Arthus a pat on the shoulder. The paladin wasted no time charging in, shield high to cover him from head to groin.

"Aeyr!"

Ilias and Rylan filed after him, letting fly an arrow each from their leaping bows. Mars came next, seeing the effects of the spell. Half a dozen hideous and pale goblins screamed as they ran about the cave floor, engulfed in brilliant flames of blue, purple, and orange. Others, perched about on ledges or behind stalagmites, shielded their white and buggy eyes from the light.

Arthus barrelled into two of the creatures, lowering his shoulder in a vicious check to send the hapless thing flinging into the wall. The other received a braining pass with the mace, falling to the floor.

Draelo took aim with his crossbow, fanning out behind the two rangers with Kasia close by. Mars scanned for a route, ducking to the right as an arrow clattered off the wall nearby. He closed in on a pillar, throwing his staff up high onto a ledge as he leaped up towards it, kicking off the pillar and catching the edge. An arrow sailed over him, hitting something fleshy. He pulled himself up to the ledge, where a goblin dropped to its knees before him, lowering its spear. Mars regained his staff and swept the dying creature from the ledge.

He stood about ten feet above the main melee now. Draelo and Rylan had drawn blades, bolstering Arthus who hunted down the fighters still on the ground. Like rats, more were appearing from among the stalagmites.

Ilias cast another one of her fire spells, flickering three goblins to life where they hid on a wide alcove across the cavern. Mars charged on, leaping from his ledge to a pillar, and then over to another. The goblins had not yet noticed him, bleating and swiping as they were at the rough fabric of their clothes to put out the fires.

He closed on them, an arrow from below catching one that had managed to avoid the spell as he waded into the group with a sweep of his staff. The end caught a creature awash with brilliant red flames behind the ear, sending it spinning away. Reversing his staff, he delivered a sharp blow to another's chest, knocking it flat onto the hard rock. The last illuminated goblin fled from him, disappearing behind a bulge of rock.

Mars caught it with a flying kick, sending it in a headlong dive down to the stone floor below. He scanned the shadowy rock piles, seeing only bodies. Quickly, not relishing the task, he ensured the fallen creatures would not rise again.

The fight was over quickly. These goblins were feral, with weapons no more than sharpened lengths of wood or bone. Among their bodies were several bows that had snapped in mid-fire.

"Rylan, I need a potion," Kasia called from the floor. Down in the cavern, Kasia leaned Arthus back against a pillar. The two rangers finished the last goblins who had not managed to escape.

"It's alright, chill out." Arthus set his shield down, shooing her away.

"What happened?" Mars leaped down from the ledge.

"A spear wound. Just gashed me a bit."

Ilias crouched beside him. "Let me see." Arthus opened his robes, showing a deep cut in the space just above his knee. The spear had been deflected by his shinguard, and slid up between the leather armor of his thigh. A waxy residue mixed with the blood.

"Poison," Mars said flatly. He could see the fiendish substance bubbling in the otherwise non serious gash.

"Drink this," Ilias said, giving Arthus a vial similar to the one he took before.

Rylan joined her, opening the top of his bag as he crouched down. He produced a small kit. "That potion is one for pain and thickening. This will take care of the poison." Rylan splashed a potent smelling solution onto the wound. Arthus reeled a bit, biting down on his lip. "I'm going to suture the wound just to be safe."

"Wait a second." Arthus swatted the rangers hand away. His mace glowed powerfully beside him. He gripped it with one hand, squeezing the pommel as he laid his other hand directly onto the wound. Mars watched as Arthus leaned his head back, eyes closing as words crossed his lips in a rapid mutter. Kasia chewed on her lip, nervousness changing to awe as the gash closed itself beneath Arthus' hand. "The God of Righteous Battle provides for his warriors. We need to save our equipment."

"Aye." Rylan packed the kit away, slinging his bag back onto his shoulder. "We should move."

Mars glanced away from Arthus as the warrior climbed back to his feet. Draelo mingled among the bodies of the goblins.

"Draelo, look alive," Kasia said.

"Very alive. Found some more of that poison, though. Might come in handy." He held up a few chipped and grimy bottles filled with a tarish black substance.

"I wouldn't bother. The beasts we're likely to encounter are resistant to such nasty tricks."

Draelo stuck the vials into the pocket of his armor. "'Likely' is a dangerous word." He followed them towards the back of the cavern. More than one path led out.

Ilias thought for a moment, looking from path to path. From somewhere, the half-elf made a snap decision, leading the group down a narrower tunnel. They left the cavern behind.

Mars walked behind her. "That fire, it didn't burn the goblins."

Ilias smiled her beautiful, devious smile. "Nothing more than a clever trick."

"An effective one," Mars agreed.

They trudged on through the gloom in silence, Ilias keeping a close ear to the rock that warned of no disturbances. Eventually, the party emerged from the caves, welcomed by a sea of stars overhead. Celestia, the largest moon, shone its great red face against the field of stars. A cloud of debris and dust glowed around it like a halo.

They followed the ridges, occasionally led off by more short tunnels, through a portion of the night before setting camp on a platform deep in the trench.

A soft carpet of mossy soil covered the stone. The surface of a pond glimmered serenely in the moonlight. Close to the wall, sheltered beneath the overhang of the rock face above, rose the two massive trunks of darkwood elder trees.

## Chapter 12: The Halls of Famledon

The Traveller's Gate to Famledon lay in the rock between the two elder trees, though no one could yet detect it. Aside from the marked smoothness of the cliff face and the strange trees, nothing more suggested the entryway. The party stood before the rock at the rise of the next day, little light yet trickling over the edge into the ridge, scanning the wall.

The cliff had been carved masterfully, that much Mars could see. He felt the aura of magic that saturated the rock, drawn by the outline made by nearly imperceptible cuts that ran within the solid face of the cliff. Without knowing the gate was there, it could simply never be found.

Ilias studied it similarly. Kasia had taken more interest in the elder trees, climbing among the massive roots buried in the solid ground. Jo rustled the branches somewhere far up.

"How do we get in?" Arthus finally asked, lounging against another tree before the gates.

"Working on it," Ilias responded.

"How did you and Aevalur get in?" Rylan asked briskly.

The elven woman responded distantly, thinking back to that time. "This is a visitor's gate for friends and scholars. When I came here before, Vos had already opened it. He said he gave the name of a certain gnome, and a phrase attributed to her."

Mars thought back to the pages of Vos' study. He could see the words, though it took a moment for the gnomic to regain any sense in his mind. Suddenly, the strange language clicked.

"Svil. Indefatigable folly of gnomes falsely regarded in wisdom." In gnomic, "Svils. Doemen fally merdec-wiz gnermic."

The trees swayed as a breeze swept through the canyon trench. The air felt alive, unnaturally so with the subtle, tide-like power of the arcane. Imperceptibly at first, then greater to where Arthus rose to his feet and Kasia halted her examination of the darkwood trees, the lines within the rock face deepened. A great semicircle shelf large enough to allow several giants passage pushed its way back into the wall. The gate stopped when it had moved a hand deep. A moment later, a much smaller, gnome-sized portal slid back within the greater circle.

"A good scholar is as keen as the most gold-driven rogue, it seems," Rylan said.

"There is much more to find here than gold," Ilias replied, stepping towards the portal. Mars followed next as the rest gathered.

"Hopefully we find plenty of it, though," Draelo said.

Torches fired to life in the black of the tunnel, the light stretching far into the pass that drove straight into the trench towards the mountains rising beyond. Still, cold air leaked out into the warm dawn. Statues lined the tunnel. Mars scanned the reliefs carved in the stone as he approached the first greeting gnomic depiction, hearing footfalls on the stone as the others followed.

The greeter was a grinning chap, leaning towards a vein of ore in the wall. A stone wand raised up to tip the plump little man's cap upward. A knowing smirk and wink on his fair and elf-like face regarded the visitors as if the trickster had been frozen in time saying, 'well, lookie at what we have here.' Reliefs laid in the wall behind him depicted a legion of heavily armored, dark and beady-eyed dwarven warriors. Two lines of the warriors faced each other under the same banner.

"Glirven the Glib. He founded this kingdom by tricking the grey dwarves of Var Thrum into a bitter civil war. It is written he charmed the great dragon Ilximas into bearing him his first son, Glanslen." Ilias ran her hand over the long reed on the back of the gnomic statue. The mouthpiece and holes were carved with extraordinary care, looking as if the stone instrument could be played.

Ilias moved along. "Here is Glanslen." The gnome looked to be the spitting image of the previous statue, but considerably more fair of appearance. Even so, he somehow lost some of the natural charisma radiated by Glirven.

"He doesn't grin like his father," Mars said.

"No. You may understand Glanslen better. He is more stoic about his studies. A true being of the arcane."

"Is?" Draelo asked.

Mars looked over the dark stone face, set hard beneath a tall hat. A thick tome lay tucked close in the gnome's left hand, the other brandishing an ornate rod. Rings, amulets, and stones sewn into the fabric of his sweeping robes glittered from the statue. Small knaps lined the gems. Mars noticed for the first time the residue of burnt stone around the statue.

"Beings as powerful as the Thirteen Sages of Famledon don't truly die. Most who attain such greatness find a way to negotiate with death."

"Where is he then?" Draelo said.

Ilias turned to the next statue, across the way from Glanslen. "They also must negotiate with life. It'd be best to not touch the statues."

The third gnome seemed to have regained a measure of the clever glee abundant in Glirven the Glib. The small woman stood enveloped in a well adorned study. Ladders leaned on bookshelves that towered over her three and a half foot frame. The tomes carved into the shelves were done so with such detail that Mars could read their titles.

A relief on the wall painted a panorama of floating trinkets, decanters of strange liquids, and glowing gems. Mars read the name, Girdeba the Scholar.

"Glirven had two children. Girdeba did not have the blood of dragons flowing through her veins, but a studied wizard she made, nonetheless. Where her brother solidified the kingdom with powerful spellcasting and warfare, Girdeba devoted her talents to more subtle magics. She established the first academy here, almost single handedly laying down the tradition of scholarship that so thrived for centuries. These two are paramount examples of the difference in how one can channel the arcane."

"Who's this one?" Draelo had moved ahead, standing past a few more down the line.

"Nuevo Glittersparks. One of the most brilliant alchemists to ever live."

"Alchemist," Draelo said, weighing the word. Nuevo peered down at him through a monocle, a crossbow laying casually in an arm fitted with a gauntlet of carefully carved pulleys and hydraulic pistons. A harness filled with potions, flasks, and casks of powder wrapped his chest and belt. Behind him rose a machine, an almost human-like shape of gleaming metal fitted with a prodigious amount of equipment and a massive warhammer. Draelo pointed up to the construct beside Nuevo.

"A golem," Ilias said. "The first guardian constructed to defend this kingdom. The gnomes, warmages and sorcerers aside, are not keen on battle."

"It looks real. Not like the other statues." Draelo climbed the pedestal, looking over the mechanical beast.

"It is real!" Ilias shouted.

As Draelo reached a hand out, two stacks rising from the machine's shoulder puffed a cloud of harsh black smoke. The hollow metal eyes began to glow softly to life.

"Get back!" Ilias shouted. Draelo scrambled to join the group, who gathered in a line across the entry hall.

The construct shifted beside the depiction of its master. A loud screech of metal on metal grinded off the stone walls as it turned its head towards them. Fire burned behind its eyes as it took a step off the pedestal. Rylan drew his bow.

"Don't. We won't be able to destroy it," Ilias said.

Gears whirred as it took another step, facing them. Mars looked past the machine to a statue further down.

"Wait!" Kasia yelled after him, a moment before he tore off down the tunnel towards the mechanized beast. The creature raised its hammer, slowly, with the metal grinding a deafening screech in the chamber.

Mars dove into a roll behind a statue. The hammer stopped as it swung around in a steady arc, halting before the depiction of Snirv the Far-Seer. Mars leaped towards the next statue down the line. He landed beside Zarxus the Archmage. The statue, like the rest, ebbed with arcane intonations. He felt up and down the statue as mechanical steps and whirring grew louder behind him. He felt at the stone for a pocket in Zarxus' stone belt.

Mars ducked behind the statue again as the hammer swept towards him, again stopping before meeting the stone. Fire shot from the machine's eyes as it raised a hand towards him, metal again screeching with the movement.

The pocket of the belt felt less solid than the statue. Mars rapped it twice, detecting a hollow within. The arm reached towards him, pulleys whirring dryly as he found the opening to the pocket. He pulled a scroll from the inside.

The arm sped up, shooting towards him as he jumped aside, sliding beneath the outstretched hammer. Mars hid behind the last statue, Maxma Starseeker, as he studied the scroll, not taking the time to read as much as feel the writing. A rune, intricate gearings, swirls of fire, and patterns of lightning, aided him. He channeled the rune as the writing echoed over him, drowning out the rapidly approaching machine. The rune aligned itself as the words clicked.

The construct ceased, the hammer grinding to a halt a foot away from Mars' head.

A hesitant chuckle escaped from behind the stock of Draelo's crossbow. He lowered the point, Rylan and Kasia following. Ilias had not even bothered to draw a weapon.

"This is the binding scroll," Mars said, panting lightly.

Ilias strode up to the construct. It turned to face her. She studied it, moving around as its head rotated to follow. "The golem is powerful. The guardians, when properly maintained, were known to function for hundreds of years, slaying thousands of monsters over a life-time."

"Real steampunk," Arthus remarked, laying his hand on the construct's hammer.

Draelo shrugged to a confused Rylan as they stepped forward to inspect the mechanical beast. "This hammer must weigh half a ton. Mars, you control it now?"

"I don't think so. It just recognizes us as visitors." Mars began walking further down the tunnel. The machine turned to follow.

Ilias and Rylan passed him, towards the end of the hall.

"Yo, who knew gnomes could be so... dope." Draelo said, following closely. He took another look back at Nuevo.

"What do you think is behind that door?" Arthus said.

"One never knows when it comes to gnomes," Rylan replied. "Except those who have been here before." He shot a look at Ilias.

Mars approached the door. A stone portal, much more conspicuous than the previous one, lay carved in the rock. "Any ideas," he asked.

"The construct may know. I don't recall this door being closed in the past." Ilias beckoned Mars forward.

He approached the door, laying a hand on the stone. Magic flowed through it as it did nearly every part of the tunnel. No handholds or locks showed in the white stone. The construct approached, waiting patiently for Mars to end his inspection. The machine moved forward, laying a mechanical hand on the door. Mars felt as the arcane connection opened between the two, the door shifting backward and sliding to the side. Before them lay a balcony, and rising behind, the city of the gnomes carved from silvery stone and metal rose in the gloom of a massive chamber.

Ilias crept onto the balcony as the others followed, looking beyond into the great antechamber of Famledon. She held a hand back to the others. "Lie low."

"There is evil here," Arthus said. His shield and mace glowed softly in response.

"I see some of the evil," Draelo guided his hand towards a great spire that rose through the center of the chamber, a solid pillar of rock carved with arches and towering windows of stained glass. Atop an arch far away, nearly level with the balcony, sat two stout men puffing away at long pipes.

"Grey dwarves." Rylan pulled lightly at the string of his bow.

Mars lowered himself below the balcony, taking a seat and leaning his back to the stone. "We must get to the star dome. With any luck, these dwarves haven't yet opened it."

"That's the observatory, right?" Draelo squatted beside Mars, his eyes scanning over the balcony. The observatory was often mentioned in Vos' writings, but the man never cared to elaborate.

"An observatory. But also a forge," Ilias said.

Draelo let out a quiet whistle. "Alright then."

"We stick together and move along the city streets. I know the way." Ilias moved towards the archway along the balcony. "Keep the golem here," she said to Mars.

Mars thought to direct the construct to remain. The connection with the machine brought the scrolls rune into his mind, he could see it glowing just in front of his vision. He focused through the rune like a lens.

"The guardian doesn't listen to me. I think it has another idea," Mars said as the rune glowed and twisted. "I think there is another way." Ilias stopped at the top of the stairs, turning as the construct moved towards the other side of the balcony. It raised the end of its hammer towards the rock, revealing an archway similar to that of the stair. The portal slid open.

A stair similar to the other, only much steeper, led down into pure darkness. The golem, quieter now that it had worked whatever oil powered it into its joints, led them forward. A light shone from its warhammer.

"Do you know where this leads?" Arthus asked Ilias.

The elf shook her head. "It is like the gnomes to have many secret passages leading about their city. This one may take us straight to the observatory," Ilias said. "It would be best to avoid a fight with the grey dwarves."

The passage winded down towards the right. At some point, where Mars figured they were now well below the lowest floor he had seen from the balcony, a landing hooked even more sharply towards the tall spire where the dwarves had been.

No sounds could be heard in the passage. They followed further until a light spilled out on rubble further down.

"Wait here," Ilias moved ahead of the others towards the light. She came back, replacing her dagger. "The dwarves broke into this tunnel some time ago, but none are around now."

Mars took the lead just behind the golem, his eyes carefully scanning the darkness for any runes. They moved over the patch of rubble, a man sized hole above shining light from the city within. Ilias climbed up into the break-in, and seeing nothing, came back down.

The tunnel broke apart further ahead. "This way," Mars said as the golems rune glowed in his mind towards a path that sloped downward.

At the bottom of the path, a door waited. Silvery-blue metal shone under the light of the golem's hammer.

"Dwarves!" Rylan called from behind. Mars stood at the door as the others turned, drawing weapons. When he at last looked away from the door he saw four of the armored men standing across the tunnel where the slope ended.

Draelo took a knee with his crossbow raised like a rifleman. Kasia and Rylan stood behind him as Arthus moved around them to take point. The soldiers raised their own large shields beside heavy axes and hammers. Mars saw another row behind them of three crossbowmen.

A voice echoed through the tunnel, bouncing off the rock and the metal door behind them. "Exit the tunnel. The Seer wishes to parlay." The voice spoke in the common surface tongue, rough and deep with a rhythm almost like a rough shakespearean english.

Ilias responded. It took Mars a moment to understand the words, transforming strangely where the brutal language mingled with her own eloquent melody. "What makes this seer think we would parlay with him? There is nothing for grey dwarves to offer us."

The lead soldier laughed as he stepped forward, his belly rolling beneath plate and chainmail. He pulled at his beard as he spoke. "Our commander knew you travellers would scoff at him. We have you surrounded. Construct or no, many of ye can not escape this tunnel before we collapse it on yer heads. Exit and parlay. Or die."

The door opened behind them as the construct laid its hammer on the metal. A voice carried from the chamber outside.

"Ye may find there is more than a few things a grey dwarf can offer ye," a voice more practiced in the common tongue said. The construct waited at the door as Mars turned from the soldiers. The rune glowed a fierce fire.

"Come on, we have no choice," Mars said to his friends. He stepped out into the chamber.

"Ah, there is one of the strange outsiders. Where are the others?" Mars had not yet located the voice as Kasia and Ilias came through the door behind him. Rylan and Draelo followed, with Arthus backing out, shield raised, behind them.

"There ye all are. Awakeners of the Guardian," the speaker emerged onto a balcony above between two winding staircases. A tower rose into the stone behind him. "One, a returner. Yes, I know ye, elf. Ilias of the monastery. Two more rangers, you are both out of your element in this realm. A chosen warrior of Aeyr. Your surface god will offer you little help here. A rogue, yes a devious one I can see that much, but young and without experience. The owner of the construct though..." The voice paused for a moment as the words echoed off the stone around them.

"Ah yes, I see you too. Not much more than a boy ye'r, like the rest of your companions. But older of the soul. A seer yourself, though not like, I, the great Torrin! A wizard, strong in the arcane. But not yet strong enough."

"Are all grey dwarves so long winded?" Arthus called to the balcony. "Your thralls said you wished to parlay."

A deep belly laugh escaped the seer. "Brash! Even when I have death all around ye, boy. Aye, you'd make for a decent dwarf yerself. Guards!"

Rylan raised his bow as more soldiers emerged from the stone around. Their armor and skin glimmered as it changed hue from the color of the rock face to their true color: an ashy grey.

"Fear but a little, Outsiders. If I want ye dead, ye'll be dead." The seer called Torrin descended the stairs. Another dwarf, a younger one saddled like a mule with a huge pack on his shoulders, followed behind him.

Mars sized up the speaker. Like the others, his skin was ashen grey. A white beard, braided and thick, hung from his face nearly to the floor. The hair on his head grew similarly down his back. Instead of the arms and armor of his guards, black robes wrapped his short frame, trimmed with light blues.

"I am Torrin the Seer, Chaired Archon of Var Thrum, who's halls are mighty and warriors fierce. I have been expecting you outsiders."

"Expecting us? How?" Kasia asked.

"A good scholar has eyes beyond what can be seen, huntress. If ye wish to survive long in the wilds, ye'd be best to learn that yerself."

"What is it you want from us?" Ilias said as the dwarf strode across the courtyard below the balcony.

"Yes, what is it I want? Every creature must want something, none simply wish to help wayward surface fools who go poking around the dark beneath a mountain." Torrin grinned, as he brushed at his long beard, one white eye peering through a thick monocle. He trained his gaze on Rylan. "Why simply trust a grey dwarf when you have broken into his halls?"

Rylan could not hold his tongue. "These are not your halls, dwarf. You are only borrowing them."

"Borrowing? Do you see any gnomes around?" The short man peered about. "Wait a moment... Nope, must have been a lizard scurrying by. None of those dastard gnomes about." He cut a response off from Rylan as he continued. "But that issue does raise the content of this parlay. The gnomes, as your construct shows, do still have a strong hold on these halls. Such a strong hold, that even I, the great seer Torrin, have spent years in this place of dried ore and deadly magics, trying to unlock the secrets of the departed."

"And you believe that we can help?" Mars asked dryly.

The dwarf marched across the floor even closer, leaning forward to fix an eye on Mars. "Aye. I do, boy. I think ye can help me a whole lot."

"And why would we?" Arthus said from beside Mars.

"Ye don't seem to understand the situation, beardless warrior. I am only but one of many an interested party residing here, and the others would not so much as have a word with ye before slaughterin' and enslavin' the like of ya. It is only through my intervention that me dear friend the Stonehammer hasn't sniffed ye's out and made an offering to the God Beneath the Mountain. An offering that would be most welcome, no doubt."

"Melthane," Ilias whispered.

"No, elf. Been many years since you've stumbled about these dark halls. Tiziri is her niece, and a much fiercer one at that. She commands the operations of this expedition now. Strong with the God Beneath the Mountain, she is."

"What is your motivation?" Mars asked the dwarf.

"Ah, I knew you were the sensible one. I be thinkin' you'll understand me motivation the best out of this lot. Come along, you and the elf. The rest should stay here."

"They are going nowhere with you," Rylan said.

Mars stepped towards the dwarf. He saw the guards shift where they stood beside the stone. "I'll go."

"No, Mars," Kasia interjected.

"It's alright. The construct could kill all of these fighters here. If something happens to me, it'll be suicide for them as well."

"We don't gamble with our lives," she replied.

Mars turned to face her, his hand raised. "Then you need to trust this isn't a gamble."

"I'll come, too," Ilias said. "But if you pull some trick, it will not end well for any of us."

Torrin stroked his great white beard. "Aye, if you believe so. As I said 'afore, ye'd be dead. To my study, human and elf, I'm believin' I have something that will interest the two of ye."

Torrin directed his apprentice, the younger dwarf buried beneath his massive pack, to remain behind as he started off towards the stairs to the tower.

"This'n is my study here. As stated, there are others here. Tiziri Stonehammer reports back to Var Thrum on our expedition, running security and keeping the proper powers satisfied. I meself and Bizberth Firebreather are mere scholars. His mind is in the mud of the alchemy that took place here, and I tend myself to more important matters."

"How did you get the Guardian to lead us here?" Mars interrupted.

"Aye, a good question, boy. The Guardian is just that, a guardian. The directive of that particular machine has changed since the gnomes left, as it be. There is no longer a gnomic kingdom to defend, we have seen to that, but there are relics that must be protected. Chief among them, the Star Dome. We'd both best tread careful with that business in mind."

They took the landing of the stair, where Torrin led them to the tower doors. Within, a study rose several stories. "The lift will take us to the window."

Torrin stood on a mechanical platform, pulling a crank as the others followed. The platform rose into the air.

"Imagine, us grey dwarves, masters of stone and glass, unable to break this here window even." The lift stopped. The study continued on in a great loft. Before the lift, rose a window set directly into the rock the rest of the tower was carved from, clear to reveal the Star Dome. Mars looked upon it as he had seen in a dream, or a fevered drawing, as the two were both blurs to him now. The great chamber glittered bronze and gold, set in a complex machinery of an observatory.

"You see it, then? This is what you have come here for, is it not?"

"You cannot break the glass?" Ilias asked.

"No'sm. Spellbound by some magics to a valu'ble piece of equipment within. Would defeat the entire purpose of getting within, as I've told Tiziri."

"And what purpose is that?" Mars asked, stepping away from the window.

"The purpose. I ain't here on an expedition of vanity as Tiziri, nor for the alchemical concoctions that stonehead Bizberth searches for. Nah, I hate the lot of them. Been 'round long enough to see the short term motivations of my people and hells-all it has gotten them. Look at the Star Dome: a real brilliant apparatus, as we see from here. If it were up to that Priestess of Whispers, it'd be destroyed. I convinced her that is what I would do when she took Aevalur."

Torrin walked away from the window. Mars had been perusing the works arranged on the tables and shelves of the study. Gnomic texts were open beside notebooks filled with the foriegn script of Torrin.

"What do you know of Aevalur?" Ilias demanded, still by the window. "What priestess do you speak of?"

"I told ye I had something of interest, didn't I?" A glimmer shone in the milky white eyes behind Torrin's glasses. "If we strike a deal, mayhaps I'll give the elf back to ye."

Ilias looked perturbed. "Where has he been all this time?"

Torrin shook his head, the long beard waving to and fro. "Some things are best left to man or fay to speak of themself. I've treated him well, I can say. Only sold 'im once, and didn't work 'im too hard either time I owned him."

"What is the deal then?" Mars asked the dwarf.

"Aye. The deal is the lot of ye help me kill Tiziri and Bizberth. Then ye open the dome up. I figure ye be knowin' where the lenses are from there. After that, I let you leave here, probably to find that meddling priestess, and leave me in peace."

The dwarf had lost himself in a pile of artifacts on the table. His back was turned to the two of them. Mars and Ilias shared a look, the dagger at her side showing its pommel through her robes.

"Who is this priestess?" Ilias said again.

"Some things er' best left to man and fay to explain themself," he turned back sharply. "Boy! Elf! We got a deal or are ye's thinkin' o' stickin' me with that there dwarf-poker of yours? I think ye'll be findin' me skin a bit tougher than them goblins you green warriors've been playing with."

"What will you do with the dome after it is open?" Mars asked.

"Have I been speakin' in the tongue of sea sirens this whole time? I told ye boy, I am a scholar. I only want to understand the contraption and help with my communin'. Being a seer isn't all about using this," he pointed to his ashen forehead. "If you keep yours on you long enough you may just be learnin' that yerself, when you get up in the years, fortune be."

Mars, finding himself devoid of other options, wished to agree with the seers pact. With only a curt nod from Ilias, the agreement with Torrin became set in stone and blood. Literally, as the dwarf gathered his spell components, a slab of black stone, and drew drops from the three of their hands. Bound under oath, the plan was laid before them.

## Chapter 13: Star Dome

"Do you trust this... dwarf?" Kasia asked from behind her drawn bow.

Mars had no answer for her. He hadn't yet answered that question himself, teetering between wishful, pragmatic thinking and feeling foolish for getting tied up in the plan of an unknown creature of equally unknown power. All he could reply to his friend, who's life may rest on the answer, "we have the construct with us."

"You never trust a grey dwarf," Rylan spat from beside them. His steely eyes turned to focus on Ilias. "You'd think that would be clear enough."

The elven woman did not face him. "No, you don't. But even when all the options are bad, there is still a best one."

The plan laid out by the devious seer had been refreshingly simple. Tiziri, the noble woman with her guards, would be drawn to the courtyard at his request. While on the march, his crossbowmen would join forces with the bows of the outsiders to cut down the soldiers and neutralize the expedition commander.

Mars and Arthus, defended by the construct, would take up arms with the soldiers on the ground to eliminate any other targets. From there, they would storm the tower of Bizberth before he could get word back to Var Thrum.

"And think not of double crossing me. My fate, and the fate of your elf friend are tied until this business is handled," Torrin had made clear to them. Rylan seemed to care little for either's fate, but he held his reservations to himself, now with his own bow readied beside Kasia and the others.

The hour of the attack had drawn slowly, with Tiziri, highborn and taking no summoning on any but her own time, dallying to come. When at last she appeared, only four guards accompanied her. Torrin and his apprentice, Windburn, waited on the balcony.

The woman, bearded herself and covered in heavy armor, took the center of the courtyard.

"Havr'n Torrin, ast's yeem etal?" she called to the balcony in the tongue of grey dwarves.

Torrin did not yet give the command. They had expected a heavier guard, and now the slaughter looked all but certain.

"No, my dear lady of Stonehammer. Another matter demands our attention today," he said in common.

The stout woman stopped with her guards in the center of the courtyard. "And what would that be?" she snarled back in her own common tongue.

The old grey dwarf grinned smugly, savoring the victory. "I've outgrown yer services."

Tiziri stopped. A moment passed as the words and the look on Torrin's face fully resonated. She turned back to her guards. "Gorsuch!" The door sealed itself shut behind them. Locked in, she raised her axe. Torrin grinned his devious grin from the balcony. "You think you can eliminate me?" The warrioress shouted up to him. "They'll have your head for this!"

"Not my fault. A vicious fight. Outsiders came, adventurers from the surface world looking to stop the dark elf priestess. I am but an old seer." He swung his fist down into a palm.

Strings thrummed as heavy crossbows obeyed the command. Bolts swept down. Rylan seemed conflicted about whether or not to fire. Kasia only watched.

The guards were caught completely, raising shields in vain as the missiles assaulted them from all sides. Bristling with arrows, armor punched deep with bolts, the soldiers fell to the stone ground.

"Asm-sheen!" Tiziri screamed. A black hammer, glowing with fire and dripping acid, appeared before her, flying towards the balcony. Torrin ducked below the metal rail as the hammer sailed towards him. Windburn did not move as quickly, taking the blow full in the chest as he fell from his feet in a mist of blood and acid, calling out his last words.

Torrin rose back to his full height, bringing his fist back down again. "Kill her!"

More bowstrings sounded. Tiziri lifted her shield, a greyish-blue glow extending from the metal. The bolts bounced off, only one finding a target, skittering across the stone into her boot.

"This is cowardice. I cannot watch any longer." Arthus dropped down from where he and Mars laid in wait. "Aeyr!" He raised his mace as he charged across the twenty yards towards her flank.

"Aeyr?" The dwarven woman grunted. She lifted a hand. Over Arthus appeared a swirl of fire and stone.

"No!" Mars followed, slamming into Arthus and sending him in a dive to the side as they rolled away. A storm of molten stone came down where they had been moving.

"Aeyr!" Arthus called again, regaining his feet. More bolts rained down, forcing the dwarf to shield herself as Arthus and Mars closed in.

The black axe appeared again in her hand. Tiziri lifted the wicked blade as the last bolt deflected off her shield, facing Arthus who approached with his glowing mace.

"You send a boy to fight me?" Tiziri called, lunging towards her opponent with a powerful downswing.

Arthus turned the blade on his shield, shoving through to open her body wide. Mars moved in with his staff, preparing a swing as the powerful woman raised her hand. The stone he stood on rolled like a wave of water, nearly sweeping him from his feet. He jumped to the side in time as the stone solidified again.

A bolt found its target through the gauntlet of Tiziri's weapon arm. Arthus swung his mace through as she recoiled from the strike. The steel head struck her hand. The axe would have fallen away if it had not been locked to her gauntlet. Instead, the metal crushed her hand. More bolts came down.

Tiziri fell to her knees. Another bolt screamed by, passing right over Arthus' shoulder. Again, Mars tackled him away as a final volley rained down, sounding like hail as it punched through the steel of her armor.

"Watch it!" Kasia yelled, almost releasing her own arrow across the way at the hidden crossbowman.

"Enough!" Torrin called from the balcony. He disappeared for a moment as he shuffled over to the stairs. "Tiziri, do you yield?"

The dwarven woman knelt on the stone, her chest rattling with blood-choked breaths. "I... Don't..." her last words faded away. She tried to lift an arm, but a bolt through her shoulder pinned it fast to her breastplate.

"Then you never will," Torrin said quietly. Mars felt a spell lifting through the seer. The arcane felt tumultuous and dark as it flowed through him, like a coming storm. Torrin held his hand out, conjuring a great fireball that roasted the air and spread over the kneeling woman. Tiziri's burnt corpse fell to the stone.

"It's done, then."Arthus grunted, his shield still high. "A treacherous deed, unworthy of ballad nor glory."

"There is a reason the ballads usually end with the hero's death, boy. Glory is a most flimsy shield. And nothing is yet done, she has other guards, and there is Bizberth."

Ilias appeared behind Torrin. Mars had not heard her approach. "I want Aevalur first."

"Aevalur," The seer said distantly. He made no move to face the silent elf and her drawn dagger.

"Yes. We have no interest in this feud between you and your kin."

Torrin looked away from Tiziri. "You know nothing of my feuds or my kin, surface elf. If I were ye I would take this opportunity to sharpen yer skills against those beneath the surface. The dark elf is powerful and won't be walkin' into any ambushes liken this."

"Dark elf?" Mars said.

"Yes, boy. I know ye see aplenty, like old Torrin. But the priestess is beyond yer power to spy on in those little dreams and visions."

"Aevalur. I want to know he is alive," Ilias stated again. Mars noticed then the most subtle suggestion, resonating in her voice like the far off thrum of a violin string. Her words were powerful, something he would have to remember.

"Aye, I suppose we may be needing him anyways. After, we must strike quickly."

Torrin's crossbowmen assembled in the courtyard. Some picked over the dead, while others stared their beady eyes over the surface dwellers. Rylan spat onto the floor towards them.

"Have yer companions wait here."

Mars and Ilias accompanied him again to the tower.

The seer spoke quickly. "We found the elf locked away in the lower dwellings. He made quite a bit of trouble for the goblins and such that came this way afore us. Found his fair share of treasure, too. Took some time to squeeze it outta him, but if ye ask me, there is still aplenty stowed away."

He stood on the lift, pulling a different lever than before. The platform lowered.

"You said earlier you had sold him," Ilias said.

"Aye. Not proud of it, but that elf priestess paid a handsome sum." Torrin adjusted his monocle. "Most handsome."

"You sold him to a dark elf?" Ilias spat. The dagger glowed beside Ilias.

The lift stopped in a chamber. More shelves lined a small, dim room. Stones glowed softly in the understudy, casting a hue over the dusty spread of tombs, some laying open on the many tables. A tall and slender man looked up from the back. Long silver hair ran down to his shoulders, and a loose burlap fabric hung from his midsection.

Ilias stepped off the lift. "Uncle!"

The man rose, though now Mars could see that he was not actually a man. Pointed ears, more pronounced than Ilias', framed his fair face. His hair ran in unkempt braids, a silver color of the same brilliant glow as that of the ranger woman. His skin was glowingly pale, and his golden eyes were weary.

"The seer spoke truly," the elf said. "And you've brought another of the monastery."

Mars felt the elf's presence as the two embraced. He radiated a strong energy that was chaotic and free, more so, even, than that which came from Ilias. His smile illuminated the dark of the room, despite a darkness behind his eyes.

"Aevalur, it is good to meet you," Mars said.

Aevalur twirled Ilias and dropped her back on her feet. "A young monk. I suppose none who know me would venture to free me from these halls. Well met." He turned to Torrin. "She is dead, then?"

Torrin nodded. "Yer companions vowed to open the dome."

"Aye. Fair enough, old seer. As much as I've enjoyed my time below this mountain, I long much more to be on its peaks and among its valleys."

Again the dwarf nodded. "I told the outsiders I've treated ye well, so don't be spreadin' any of the discontent yer kind trades in so easily."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Break these shackles, then. Let's be off." Aevalur rattled at the chain wrapped around his waist. The links glowed red with an untasteful magic.

"Not until the alchemist and his men are slain," the dwarf said firmly.

Aevalur nodded. "I'll be wanting arms, either way."

The four of them stepped back onto the lift.

"What will become of Windburn?" Aevalur asked as the platform rose through the stone tunnel.

"Tiziri already saw to that. He proved slower in movement even than he was on the scrolls. Can't say I'll miss the lad too much. Though, my sister will not be happy to hear one of her brood died under me tutelage."

"Aye." The platform rose past the base level and up to the loft. Torrin stepped into his study, walking over to a chest tucked beneath a shelf.

"Yer robes, elf." The dwarf tossed a cloth of emerald green over to Aevalur. "A dagger, a rapier, and the handbow." One by one he tossed the arms over to Aevalur.

"I wish I would have had these when you faced Tiziri. This dagger would have found a much better sheath."

Ilias' own dagger glowed. She looked to Aevalur, now armed, and Mars beside her.

The elf held his hand out. "My blood, are you so untrusting of a dwarf who kept me alive for a decade, only because his skin is grey?"

Torrin grabbed at his beard as another chuckle escaped his belly. "This'n has been eyeing me up like a mutton chop. Worse than that black-haired ranger, even."

"A decade?" Mars couldn't help but exclaim. The three creatures looked at him curiously, and then as one began to laugh.

Aevalur clothed himself in the green robes. "A few loops around Sola and Suna isn't that long a time for our kind." He produced a pack from somewhere, stepping back on the lift. Gazing out of the glass behind him as Torrin lowered them he said, "but, I am more than ready to finish this nasty business. We have much work to do."

They descended back to the main floor. The standoff continued in the courtyard, with the two groups of fighters still facing each other across the stone ground.

"Ikeshmiek etul," a fighter called to Torrin.

"What did he say?" Mars asked as they crossed to the center.

Aevalur laughed, the very sound ebbing with the arcane. "He says he wants to fight the big warrior with the mace. No wonder why." The elf glided across the floor ahead of them towards the group of monks. "Who do we have here? Rylan? Good to see you. Much wiser around the eyes, I see."

"Aevalur," The ranger responded with a curt nod. "It has been some years."

"I am Kasia. This is Arthus and Draelo. You have already met Mars."

"Well met, I'd say. I'm glad to be leaving this place."

A boom sounded at the door to the tunnel. Another proceeded an explosion that lit the chamber near the grey dwarf soldiers.

"They're here!" Torrin called as the thrum of crossbows followed the bomb. His men scrambled into position.

"This way!" Aevalur grabbed Ilias by the arm, leading the group to the stairs of the tower. "Fan out, cover the fighters. Arthus and Mars, guard the stairs."

The archers did as he said, taking the balcony with drawn bows as more grey dwarves seemed to stream right from the rock around. A melee erupted among Torrin's soldiers as the first line of attackers made contact, two lines of shields surging like a bloody game of rugby.

Another boom sounded from the door, wrenching the portal out of the stone and sending it flying into the room. It bounced and screeched across the ground, sending sparks flying. The construct roared to life from where it stood like a statue in the courtyard, piston and pulley whirring as it went to meet the column of soldiers pouring out of the wrecked doorway.

Aevalur disappeared. Mars saw him fading back as the rangers, Ilias, Rylan, and Kasia, fired a volley at the doorway. When he looked again the elf was nowhere to be seen.

"Torrin, ye traitorous sow!" A voice boomed. A fireball exploded over the flank of the construct. The machine shrugged the flames off, swinging its hammer around to crush a grey dwarf into the stone. Bizberth Firebreath emerged with half a dozen other fighters as his main column worked the construct back. Torrin's own soldiers, already encircled, were pushed back with more from the doorway entering the melee. "Ye thought ye could take me by surprise!" A column of fire shot into the air before his hand.

Torrin backed towards the stairs, ducking behind Arthus. He peeked over the ledge, throwing a handful of spell components forwards like a craps player. A fireball took form in the components and burst into the melee, giving his soldiers a moment's reprieve as two armored enemies fell to the ground.

Ilias cast her own fire, illuminating the chamber as the alchemist aimed his crossbow at the balcony.

"Surface dwellers!" Bizberth bellowed, a bolt sputtering from his bow, firing to life in midair like a rocket.

"Get down!" Kasia called as the bolt shot overhead, exploding on the tower wall just behind them. Rubble rained down on them.

Bizberth stopped in the courtyard, his guards approaching in phalanx formation towards where Arthus covered the staircase. Arrows bounced off the soldiers' shields as they marched closer. The alchemist popped another bolt into his bow.

"I'll kill the lot of ye. I'll drink the blood from yer skulls!" He aimed his crossbow up. Mars watched as Aevalur appeared from behind, his fair face set hard as the dagger flashed before him. "Ergh," the alchemist screeched, arching his back. The elf ripped the blade from deep within the gap between the alchemist's helm and chestplate. Black blood dripped on the stone as he stabbed down again.

"Come on," Draelo vaulted over the balcony, blades in hand. Mars followed after him. On the ground, the two joined Aevalur at the back of the column as Arthus made contact with the first of the group on the stairs, swinging his mace down over a raised shield.

Draelo crashed into the back of a soldier, driving his blade deep into the back of the fighter's leg where the armor was thinner. Mars came behind him, sending his staff into a high arc to crash down hard on the helm of another.

Aevalur sang while he moved to join them. "Famle-don, the city of grandeur." He jumped into the flank of a dwarf, landing his boot on its back. The soldier went spilling over his shield, stumbling over the staircase. "Treasures lost, and treasures found. Victor take-all."

Mars doubled his staff back around, sending it lower to crack into a dwarf's leg. "The young monk learned a-quickly, never to strike a dwarf on the head." The dwarf with the broken helm and bruised leg turned around, lifting his axe high. "The paladin on the stair, with his mace ringing the song of Aeyr." A wash of energy bubbled to life in Mars' chest.

Draelo dodged a haphazard swing of a hammer from his opponent, the fighter stumbling to keep his feet as blood poured down the back of his leg. Monks of the monastery, earning their keep below the mountain. Swashbuckling dervish who moved like a pan-ther.

The energy lifted higher, almost overwhelming as Mars brought his staff back. The dwarf pressed harder, raising an axe in two hands.

"Holt!" The ray of fire appeared first in his eyes, running through his body and out of his hands like liquid sunlight. The beam tore through the dwarf's chest and out his back, scorching the legs of the one behind him and carving a line in the stone.

"The earth-skinned wizard did cast his ray." Aevalur drew another dwarf from the line on the stairs, baiting him into a strike as he lifted his hand crossbow, planting the bolt through the opening in the fighter's helm. The dwarf's head jerked back, helm rolling from his shoulders as he collapsed. "The adventurers a-turning the fray."

Arthus brought his mace down on the final dwarf at the stair. The mace rebounded hard off the fighters helmet, hardly dazing the dwarf, but knocking him back on his feet. The paladin took a step down, bringing the mace down again even harder. The dwarf lifted its axe as the mace came down the third time, deflecting it slightly as it caved in the helmet further. Arthus cursed as he bashed away a sweep of his opponent's axe with his shield, slamming the mace down for the final time. The helmet caved in like a cheap pot. Blood sprayed from the opening, the stout man falling to the ground to never again rise.

Torrin stood beside the archers. His soldiers had been pressed back against the rock, fighting off the last group. The construct, leaving a pile of broken soldiers in its wake, carved its way into the melee to liberate the survivors from destruction with great arcs of its hammer.

"That is the last of them. Knowing Bizberth, he did not bother sending a messenger to report back before attacking. Brash fool."

"That's it, then," Ilias said, lowering her bow as the construct swept a dwarf into the wall with a final swing. The stout man bounced off the rock, rising to meet the axe of one of Torrin's men.

"What about your guards?" Kasia said to the seer. Draelo crouched beside Bizberth's body. Blood pooled on the ground about him.

"My personal guard. Their loyalty is well paid fer. I suppose I'll need to hire more." Torrin stepped out from the archers. Ilias and Rylan eyed his back as he leaned up over the balcony. "At ease! The city is ours, find any others that may be hiding, and take what loot ye wish." He turned back to them. "Our final business."

Aevalur appeared beside them, his hand on Mars back. "Aye, quite a scrum there. Ilias, you brought just the right batch of fighters."

Rylan brushed past him. "Let us open this dome and be gone."

"Aye," Torrin agreed. The seer was plenty enthusiastic.

They stood in the main room of the tower for the final time. The doors to the star dome, scuffed on the metal and chipped around the stone edges, rose in a brilliant bronze shine before them. Reliefs in the brass and gold face gave way to deep channels running to a blue gemstone that shone like a globe in the center.

"You can do it?" The seer turned to Mars.

Mars looked at the door for a moment before a sudden laugh overtook him. He looked down at the seer beside him. "I hope you're joking." He glanced around at the others who looked at him similarly. "I don't have the slightest clue."

Torrin took his spectacles off, rubbing a cloth over them before cursing quietly. Aevalur stepped forward beside them.

"Aye. A simple thing," a grin spread across the elf's face as Torrin watched him handle the gemstone. Aevalur murmured something in gnomic as the stone began to turn on its own.

"Damn ye elf!" Torrin stomped forward on his heavy boots, leaning back to send one up towards Aevalur's rear. The elf sidestepped him, still laughing.

"I've been here ten years. What did you think?"

Torrin stopped his pursuit as a mechanism in the door clicked, swinging the portal open. The dome lay before them.

"All these years," Torrin muttered.

"Indeed." Aevalur strode into the chamber. "I arrived shortly after Vos had opened the door. He spoke of a prophecy he had seen, one of the trickster god, Imizael." A skeleton covered in seared black robes laid against the wall before a stand of machinery. "Alas, the old scholar locked himself within." Aevalur knelt down beside the remains, making a symbol over his chest and bowing. He scooped a pile of books from beside the robes. "Pull that lever, Mars."

Mars looked over the controls, seeing a crank with a handle of two suns around its arm. He did not know if he wanted to pull it.

"Allow me, then." Aevalur cranked it back. The lever moved, polished brass and gold moving easily in a well oiled mechanism.

Light spilled into the chamber. Three red rays shone down through the rock. The mechanism, a great sphere of brass colored metal, turned as mechanical arms suspended in the air and fixed within the gears of the sphere whirled around the room. Lenses at the end of the arms captured the beams, reflecting them into a final collector over the center of the sphere, and down into a chamber within.

At least, that's what they would have done if the gems had not been shattered, instead deflecting the rays in all directions.

Torrin's eyes held a shock, confusion as he looked from the body and then to the lenses. Fury dawned slowly.

"At a high noon of Sola or Suna, this forge could work any metal, and even create powerful gemstones. But the greatest power was in that of the Beacon Stars. Once in a few seasons, their rays met and became powerful enough for a special collector to forge an astrogem: one with the power of the far off stars contained within." Other arms moved, aligning carefully broken lenses and spheres of metal. "It must be late day outside. These stones represent the constellations of the late summer. Winter will soon be upon us, this season, one of the beacon stars," he crouched beside the remains of Vos, carefully assembling the bones. "But never again shall an astrogem be forged within this chamber."

"No," Torrin muttered.

A blue-glass orb caught a loose ray, shining its winter light in the chamber. Celestia, a smaller white stone, mingled in the air about the stars. Red Suna lay dim behind the blue orb.

"Vos saw this place in his dreams. The observatory and forge has remained in perfect tuning since the gnomes left, long after their halls were breached by others. I followed him, convinced he was sick, and that his sickness would lead me to the great wealth left behind."

Carefully, he moved the torn robe of bones onto another. "The priestess allowed me to live, hoping I would open the chamber, and the grey dwarves would twist this mechanism to their own ends. It was an astrogem that created the first of the oracle tombs, which wrote the fates within themselves, including the one Imizael twisted to create his so-called prophecy."

Mars looked over the books near Vos' body as Aevalur wrapped the robes up and left the remains beside the controls. A spellbook lay bound in soft leather, golden inlay over the front. He thumbed through the pages, watching as Vos' handwriting turned to his. About a dozen pages were covered with neat handwriting and sketches of runes, some familiar to him and some not. When he closed the spellbook, he saw the golden inlay on the cover had also changed.

The second book caught his interest even more. A massive book of fine leather. Gemstones glittered in the cover.

"Kasia," he said, beckoning her over. "The book from the library."

Kasia looked away from where the others circled the great mechanism. Arthus looked down within the mechanics of the golden-bronze semi-circle. Her brown eyes softened in the glow of the blue gemstone.

"What does it say?" She asked.

Mars resisted the urge to turn another page. "We'll look later."

Kasia nodded, leaning towards the strange book.

Torrin turned from the scattered forge-light to Mars. His beady eyes caught the glow of the blue stone in his eyes.

"Give me that, boy."

Mars made no move. "No," he said.

The dwarf stared daggers back at him.

"The Writ of Imizael was a devious trick by the Great Bard of Many Faces," an elven voice said. It was regal, calm, verse-like as it weaved so effortlessly those subtle and powerful magical threads of the arcane. "He fooled the gnomes, cleverest among beings, into leaving their greatest kingdom. Even before that, the Oracle Books twisted their minds with its written destiny. Imagine it, in the hands of grey dwarves."

A whisper played among Torrin's lips. Down by his sides, in the fold of a robe, Mars caught his hand moving.

"Down!" Mars pulled Kasia to the ground as a blast of fire seared past, a breeze of pure flame that caught an edge of his robe and incinerated it. They rolled away.

Torrin stepped forward. "This is my life's work! I alone have the hands sturdy enough to hold the Oracle Books!" His hands moved again as he stepped towards Mars. "You boy, you are a spring fool!"

"So the Seal of the Sky Dome is written." A dagger stopped Torrin's spell, wicked steel that opened the back of his calf. Aevalur stood behind it.

Torrin cursed as he stumbled, his left leg losing all ability. Blood trailed as he tried to take another step, falling flat. "No!" He screamed. The word was dark, malicious, full of loss and pain.

"You have taken ten years of my life. In that time, you've connived to have one seal broken. But the greatest will not fall."

Torrin crawled along the stone, blood trailing behind his leg. He pulled it in, cursing at them all like a wounded dog lashing out.

"It did not have to be this way." Aevalur looked down on him, pity painting sorrow in his golden eyes. "Let us be gone then. The door shall seal behind us. Who can say for how long?" He shouldered the robes entombing the physical remains of Master Vos.

They left the Sky Dome. As he said, the door swung shut behind them, muting the cries of Torrin as he cursed them and tried for one last spell. Out through the door of the tower, the construct waited for them. Blood, fresh and dark, dripped from its hammer.

"It's a shame," Arthus said, stealing one last glance back as they left for the passages back to the tunnel.

"Destiny spoke to Torrin. But destiny is naught more than a pleasant whisper over the void. Beware the texts of silver."

Mars took another look down at the library book, before stuffing it deep in his pack.

##  Chapter 14: Writing the Fates

Aevalur spread his arms about him from where he lounged in the lily pads of a pond. He basked in the late rays of fading Suna for the first time in years.

"The priestess has raised the army of Gizmaziek the Repenter. He marches upon the monastery," the elf said. His words of doom sounded odd, delivered as they were with joy at being free from the dark halls of Famledon.

Ilias sat on the bank beside Kasia. "Many armies have marched on the monastery over its history. All have fallen," she replied. Her fingers ran over the strings of a lute, plucking them softly.

"The Repenter is strong with Golamesh. He is Chosen."

"Why is he called the Repenter?" Kasia asked.

Aevalur ran his hands through his silver locks, shaking the braids loose before regaining his feet on the muddy pond bottom. "He repents being corrupted. The blood of elves runs in his veins."

"The blood of elves runs in all orc veins. Twisted blood. Marked blood," Rylan said.

Aevalur shook his head, the tips of his hair brushing at the surface of the water. "Forgive me, this is hard to speak of. Gizmaziek is born of an orc, but is of sylvan seed."

"You do not mean...?" Ilias responded, her face a shade paler. Aevalur kept his eyes low as he turned away. "How?" she asked, setting her lute aside.

"The dark elf." His voice took on a far off, song-like tone.

"A champion will rise, a chosen warrior of Golamesh. With the blood of a noble elf coursing through his veins, the mark will be renewed. An abomination among abominations, His voice will rise to shake the mountains, to bring the tribes from a hungry summer. Beneath a common banner they shall march to bring destruction from the waxing forest upon the land, so the Seal of the Champion will be broken."

Mars listened from beneath the shade of a tree as the verse emanated from all around. Dim afternoon light cast a shaded twilight within the chasm.

"The priestess used me to break the Seal of the Champion. Just as she tried to use the grey dwarves for the Seal of the Word of Stars. From there, those books would spread to the dark elves, and even worse."

"But Vos broke the lenses. That seal can never happen," Kasia said. Her eyes drifted over to the soft earth by an elder tree. There, the remains of the forever-young Master Vos laid to rest in a deep grave.

"Whether it is now or in millenia, it matters not. Not all the seals need not be broken now. As each one falls, the others stand weaker. If the monastery falls, there is little to stop the rest," Aevalur said.

"And what happens if they all fall?" Arthus said.

"The arcane is woven with many threads, a tapestry within the Way. But the will of men and fay tip the balance for their own ends, and like a poorly wrought wheel, an imbalance leads the cart off course as the cart moves faster." The verse flowed from Mars. He remembered the words from the early works of Vos. It was one of the last before they stopped making sense.

Almost stopped making sense. Now, Mars was beginning to see more of the lucidity.

"The magic of this realm will be fully corrupted, turning the whole forest into a cancerous place of evil. From there, it could do the same to other realms."

Aevalur moved towards the bank where Rylan crouched, a thin line of flax drawn from his hand into the water. "The wizard speaks true. This forest has power over our world, power that grows as its borders spread. It is one of the greatest conduits of the arcane in all the world. The seals are not true prophecy, even Imizael does not have that power. It is more of a mechanical stratagem, a recipe almost, to turn the realm evil, as has happened in other places throughout time."

"A chess game," Arthus murmured.

"I know not what you mean, but I believe you may be correct," Aevalur replied.

"What can we do?"

Aevalur dressed himself, fixing the rapier to his belt. The weapon curved devilishly beside a pocket of short bolts. "The priestess is a catalyst, one of the few alive with the means to to turn the game to her own end," he said. "Her evil conniving has caused a great imbalance. The fall of the gnomes was the worst blow, but now there is something else."

"A corruption," Mars said.

Aevalur nodded, his eyes dark. "Ilias, my heart, do you feel it, too?"

Ilias nodded from beside the pond. "A darkness in the song of the Forest. A stillness in its nature."

"Another seal perhaps. A powerful magic that has twisted the Forest Spirit," Aevalur said.

"The outsiders," Ilias said, looking to Kasia beside her, and the others.

"Outsiders?" Aevalur glanced over the four students. "I knew you were a strange group. Where are you from?"

"ATL strong," Draelo said.

Aevalur looked at Draelo like he was an alien. The surprised look turned to an impressed one. The slang term for Atlanta was as exotic as could be found in this world. "Then it is surely the same magic that brought you four has brought something else, too. We must find the source."

"Then we will." Arthus rose, laying out his bedroll. "On the morrow. Aevalur, do you know the way?"

"I know the way. But it is not a place we go lightly."

"It is best the young monks understand fully what they have gotten themselves into," Rylan yanked the last of the line out of the water. A meaty fish flopped its red belly about on the hook. "Acolytes," he turned to each of them in turn. "You have all more than proved yourselves. If you wish to return, now is the time. The monastery could use all the warriors it can field."

Rylan looked at each of them. Draelo leaned against a root. For a moment, he looked as if he may say something. The moment passed, and he turned back to a book taken from Bizberth's study, open beside him with vials of strange elements. Kasia lay equally silent.

"We go. A crusade worthy of Aeyr!" Arthus said.

A grim look took hold in Aevalur's beautiful, elven face. His eyes fell towards the book with the blue stone, sitting beside Mars.

"Then it shall be. I have gifts for you all. May we put them to good use." From a large pack, he began to produce his gifts.

#

#  Part IV: Black Mountain

## Chapter 15: The Old Forest

The mountain passes were dormant as the tribes marched away. Back in the forest, the army left a trail of destruction in their wake. The adventurers followed the convenient trail of clearings of burnt forest and ash-choked streams filled with feces and dead fish.

Over two rises of Suna, the mud-stomped path turned into diverging game trails. Each trail led back to the territory of some horrid tribe of the mustering army. The mountains shrunk behind them, and the horizons vanished beneath the canopy of twisted ancient trees.

"There is a troll in there. By the smell, I'd say he has friends," Rylan said as the trail took them where streams of frost melt gathered in a lowland bog. His footfalls made little sound over the moist ground as he crept back over a rise where two trees grew into each other.

"The best passage appears to be this game trail," Ilias responded. "We must pass."

Rylan nodded. "Then we pass."

The rangers turned back towards the bog. The game path they followed was little more than a trail frequented by the odd forest racoon or rabbit, winding thin along high ground to skirt around the rot of the flooded forest. Through the grotto, a pale mist lingered between drooping trees.

"Looks like where Yoda lived in Jedi," Arthus said as they moved down a rise closer to wet ground.

"We're going to find a rancor instead," Kasia replied. A steel arrowhead poked ahead of her from the handrest of her new bow.

"I bet Yoda would kick some ass out here," Draelo said.

"Ass kick, I shall. Bring balance to the arcane, we must," Arthus said in his best Yoda voice.

Aevalur moved closer from where he patrolled the flank, gliding over the thick growth like it was a paved road. "Remind me to ask you outsiders more of your homeworld. This Yoda fellow sounds most interesting." The elf dipped the point of a crossbow bolt into a vial as he faded back among the trees where the trail narrowed further.

"Draelo, if you have picked up any tricks yet from the alchemists, the time is coming to use them," Rylan whispered as they closed in on the bog. A splash stopped them on the trail. "There. I see two."

Mars looked over the black and green water. No sun shone that day through the cloud cover and dense canopy overhead, but he could make out a wake as something glided just below the surface. Another form lounged in the still water amongst a pile of sunken logs, only a few lumps of greasy flesh breaking through the surface. If he hadn't known better, it would look like a world-record alligator was moving towards the bloated carcass of some fat creature that had decided to keel over in the putrid water.

He studied the scene as the rangers and Draelo disappeared into the growth. The two creatures, trolls, appeared as he had always pictured. As he watched, the swimmer surfaced a bit more, revealing a green and spiny back. The monster moved slowly, much like a hunted animal meandering about, ignorant to stalking predators.

A few runes came to mind. Instinctively, Mars envisioned fire. Only a moment later, a small bolt streaked from the trees. A flash of embers kicked to life as the bolt struck the more lively of the two trolls. Following the signal, more arrows followed from the trees in rapid succession, two from the left of where he and Arthus lay in wait in the dry grotto, and one from the higher ground to the right. The arrows struck as the bog roared to life.

The two beasts roared from the water in a spray of water and muck. Dripping with slime and mud, the twisted creatures looked like nature itself had been corrupted in the mind of a B-movie costume designer armed with an irresponsibly large budget. Beside him, Arthus took a knee as he dialed in the aim of a heavy crossbow. The steel gauntlets along his arms blazed with a heatless fire. The dancing shine of steel and flames did little to draw Mars' attention from the trolls.

Flames engulfed the bolt as the string snapped forward at the pull of the trigger.

The first troll towered eight feet above the water at its knees. Mud, and something Mars could only figure to be mucus, slopped from the creatures horned back. The other stood even taller, dragging a rotting tree up with it from the pile of debris it had been slumbering in. The flaming bolt struck the log carrier with a quiet plop and burst of fire.

A roar so alien and terrifying it almost wiped the rune from Mars' vision bellowed from the gaping maw of the lead troll. Six black eyes arranged like on a dice gazed about.

Another volley followed from the forest. Arthus snapped the lever of his crossbow forward, one eye towards the two beasts quickly honing in on their position. A moment later he snapped the lever forward, sending another flaming bolt streaking towards the first troll. The missile struck along with two other arrows as the target dragged its log ashore. Again, Arthus worked the lever back, loading a bolt and leaning the bow against a mossy stone beside them. No longer in volleys, arrows snapped forth in free-fire from the forest growth around them.

"Mars, those trolls are coming for us," Arthus said, pulling the leather straps of his shield tight. The steel grieves on his arm still crawled with heatless flames, spreading down his arms to the mace and shield. Arthus lowered the visor of his helm, now looking at the charging creatures through an inverted and arched V shape in a steel helmet.

Mars ignored him. He raised a hand towards the trolls, picturing the fire again as an image from the spellbook appeared just behind his eyes. The lead troll charged closer, moving in a spasming run that switched between upright and all fours.

Through the terror, he felt the flow of that brilliant energy channeling, centering on a silvery-blue ring on his finger.

Another roar escaped from the troll as a burst of fire streaked from its back, flames crawling up like those from a molotov cocktail. They spread out over green and glistening skin, roasting the trees around it. More arrows thrummed home, all burying halfway to their fletchings in thick flesh. The troll roared again, its huge slimy arm spasming to knock over a small tree.

The other troll shoved past the first one, overtaking it on all fours like a lumbering and horrifically lanky bear. Arthus sang as he stepped out, rounding towards the creatures through a lane of trees.

Mars pressed directly towards the striding troll, the rush of certain death building more of the arcane power. The silvery ring on his finger vibrated and hummed.

From his hand, a beam streaked through the gloomy forest. White light caught on the face of Arthus' shield and illuminated the forest beneath the canopy. The lead troll dodged it, side stepping as the beam shot past and through the troll with the log, slicing the creature's leg off at the meat of its thigh. Arthus dodged the lead troll by stepping around a tree.

Mars raised his quarterstaff as the now legless monster pressed on, flames dying out in black spots along its slimy chest and shoulders. He hesitated a moment as the beast reared up, its massive arms stretching longer than he stood tall, with claws like blackened rakes on the end of them.

The troll swiped and kept moving, trying to trample him. Mars rolled around a tree, bark raining down on him as the creature's claws slashed over the trunk. He rose, sending his staff whistling through the air, to catch the creature in the torso leg. Thunder boomed at the impact.

The strike had hardly any effect.

The beast grunted from more arrows smacking home. Mars ducked again behind the tree, using the undergrowth to maneuver around the rampaging troll. He backed up further as the monster raised its arm for another slash.

A blade streaked from behind it. A razor sharp rapier sliced upward, taking the arm off completely while the troll was still in backswing. The limb flew off into the brush. Aevalur rolled to the left as the troll wheeled around, leaving an opening for Mars to close in again. Draelo sprinted in from behind another tree, a glass vial alight in one hand and his blade in another.

He cast the vial forward, a white explosion catching the troll in the chest. The creature collapsed as Draelo followed the explosion with his blade, sinking the edge deep into the beast's leg.

Mars struck twice at the tough flesh of the creature as it turned towards Draelo, its own weight and the staff impact on the slashed limb causing it to snap like thick green wood. Aevalur dove in again with his rapier to follow the sickening crack of the troll's leg, carving more flesh from it.

The creature spasmed.

"Burn it completely or they will come back," Aevalur said. The troll thrashed and spasmed on the forest floor.

Mars felt another spell rising, more flames engulfing his hand. Draelo threw another vial of liquid over the fallen troll, oil that seared to life as Mars released a flame over it.

He turned to see Arthus raise his shield, spiked claws screeching against steel and pulling Arthus a step forward. Two more arrows plopped into the trolls back. Flames spread up its back.

Aevalur glided across the undergrowth, joining the war ballad that boomed from Arthus' chest. His sword slashed below him as he leaped over the troll, the creature clawing with bizarre quickness at Arthus. The elf's blade cut a deep slash in the beast. The lopsided and hideous head fell down, hanging onto its torso by a thin strap of green flesh.

The beast roared again. Mars' hair stood on end as the sound bubbled from the gored neck, spattering green blood on Arthus' shield.

More fire bathed the creature. Arthus bashed another wild swipe away, raining his mace onto the fleshy troll again and again, each time with embers sparking over it. A final spasm wracked the trolls body before its long body went limp.

"Burn all the limbs," Aevalur called, scanning the bog. Rylan appeared from the trees.

"Trolls are always a nasty business," the ranger said. "Blades and fire are all that keep them from rising again."

"How much are troll ears worth?" Arthus asked, wiping the thick blood from his shield.

Aevalur laughed his mirthy laugh. "Hopefully less than the ears of an elf still attached. What need have you of that grisly payment?"

"The Stoics," Rylan said. "They banished the outsiders for the arcane that brought them here."

The smile disappeared from Aevalur. "Max-Kli, that shortsided human fool. Rylan, you remember when Ilias and I had our own debt to pay?"

Rylan shouldered his bow, spreading more oil over the pile of troll limbs. He grunted.

"What happened?" Arthus asked. The bodies crackled among the brush, smelling putrid. They left them, returning to the path.

Aevalur spoke as they circled the bog, following a path rising high along low and worn cliffs of rock and mud. Semicircles were torn from the bank where trees had washed out and fallen.

"We encountered a tribe of giants. What did that woman call herself?"

"The Queen of Summer," Rylan muttered.

"Right, right. Anyway, a village told us of raids made on their cattle. We followed a trail into the borderlands, and found the raiders camped atop a hill. Not really a tribe so much as a band, say six old and worn men and women."

"How large were they?" Draelo asked.

"Giant. Though these ones were not particularly so. Twice as tall as young Draelo, say. The woman, a warchief who called herself 'the Queen of Summer,' had tried her hand recruiting a tribe of orcs to her cause, though that did not go very well. The brutes made camp atop a hill licking their wounds, without so much as a defensive perimeter. Still put up quite a fight."

"I seem to recall you spending the fight perched on a standing stone, playing the lute," Rylan said. The trail wound higher along a hill.

"The song of the giant slayers," Aevalur said, a thin smile on his lips.

Rylan marched silently, looking out over the bog and along the ridge beside them.

"I had tried my hand at the curved lance, a long arm with a slashing spear point. As it was, I did not excel with it in combat the way I had in training," the elf continued. "Took me a while to find the saber more to my suit, and even longer to gain the combat reflexes. Glad to see you acolytes didn't have the same struggle."

"Fortunately for them. Else one or all may be lying dead back in the rift lands," Rylan said as Ilias and Kasia appeared at the top of the ridge.

Aevalur said no more as they left the bog behind them, the forest continuing on, dark and looming. With each step the trees grew more massive, the bark old and twisted and grey. The ground was dense with decay, and the smell of sulfur and mist hung in the air.

The day grew late as they found a cave in a crop of rock. The forest around held its breath while the party made camp.

Ilias and Kasia negotiated with a bear inhabitant of the cave. The creature seemed lost, and its fear and hunger made it almost rabid. Even so, it only took an offering of fish and berries for the bear to wander back into its own nook, appeased. The night passed like an eternity, only interrupted by shrieks carrying over the moist air of the forest, the crackling of the fire, snores of the dying bear, and brief interludes of slumber.

When day at last rose, the sky was heavy and grey. The party continued on.

"This is the same place we passed only a few hours ago," Draelo said as they passed a faded standing stone.

Ilias looked to her uncle. "The forest plays tricks on us," she said.

"This is a dark place," Aevalur agreed.

More time passed before they began encountering the webs. Draelo stood before one, a net of thick white lines between two rotten trees. A toad as large as Arthus' fist lay suspended in the netting beside a fat old crow. The weavers were nowhere to be seen, but Jo came down from the canopy, perching atop Mars back, baring her teeth at the treetops.

"The priestess knows we are approaching by now. The spiders and flies alike obey her."

Draelo, as if on cue, slapped at his neck where a black fly bit at his robes. Sweat glistened his skin. "This lady has flies now. Good enough reason for me to kill her," he mumbled.

Another long day and night passed, full of switchbacks and a few arguments between Rylan and Aevalur as the trails seemed to shift. The trees themselves watched their passage. When it was quiet, Mars thought he could hear them whispering to each other in the mist. He, of course, chose not to share that theory.

At last, a lone mountain appeared through the forest canopy, and the land began to rise, drier and less humid. Howls followed from the trails behind as they began to climb the land on the trek up the mountain.

##  Chapter 16: Siege

For three days they climbed up the black slopes, dodging patrols of well-armed orcs and bands of hobgoblins.

Darkness lay like a veil of wet velvet outside the ruined walls of an ancient tower.

Mars turned back from the window, drawing a ragged curtain to cover the glow of fire in the decrypt mantle of the tower chamber. Sleep had been hard to come by as they were circled. The book, too, kept him up. No matter how tired he grew, the blue stone shined when he closed his eyes.

The Writ of Imizael was a game of the trickster god. His games were of serious consequences for the realms. The first entry of another book Vos had was of the forging of its astrogem. The last stone the gnomes worked, the blue stone in the cover, was intended for the spellbook of the final Arch Magus, High Arcon Ghibly. The scribe detailed how the Archon's writings changed and twisted, rearranging themself. It drove her mad, until she stayed up for months on end trying to gain control of the book. Eventually, the writ was completed in her own tangled script.

They believed it to be an Oracle Book, a stone forged of the stars that wrote the fates. In a way, they were right. But the fates Imizael wrote were of a self-fulfilling nature. It was for this reason, no matter how much temptation whispered its sweet lies, Mars went no further among the pages than the drawing of Draelo in the library.

The night became lost after the first arrows plunked off the stone outside. Aevalur opened the curtain to see a battalion of hobgoblins upon the ruins.

Aevalur, alone, hunted in the darkness with his keen night vision, with Ilias illuminating targets along the boulder strewn and black moonscape about the ancient tower. Bolts clattered off the stone walls in staccato, and once, a javelin sailed between the ramparts of the keep beside Draelo while he reloaded his crossbow.

Time drifted in the sleepless night filled with the echoing writing. The hours of darkness drew on, and the attacks on the ruined hold surged and faded. Shortly before dawn, the skirmishes slowed down. On the hill before the destroyed walls, a battalion of hobgoblins, red-skinned and armored beneath a banner depicting an ashen-skinned elven woman drinking wine from a glass chalice, hauled two ballistas into position.

A column of the creatures broke off into a march. Two sergeants split at the first stone ruins, breaking into two companies of a score each. The first ballista shot struck the walls of the tower as the soldiers came in range. They fired down on the hobgoblins as dust and rubble hailed down in the keep.

Ilias looked to Mars, gesturing towards the ballista. She waved her hands, fire bursting from the soldiers as they scrambled to load another missile. The hobgoblins did not react to the faux-fire, other than to take cover at being spotted. Now illuminated, Mars took aim on the artillery pieces. With no rest through the night, he collapsed as the ball of fire left his hands to explode upon the ballista. The ring on his hand seared his finger.

No melee came from the attack as the hobgoblins, who left their fallen comrades along the approach speckled with arrows and fire, retreated.

The party wasted little time leaving the tower behind, covering a rough trail as they climbed higher into the mountain. Flames leapt high from the ballistas on the rise behind them.

Aevalur and Ilias, by some elven magic, obscured the group's passage, leaving them only to deal with the odd patrol of hobgoblin riders or orc tribesmen. They moved slow, slaying each enemy in turn and hiding the bodies among the spread of rock and gravel.

The peak, or caldera, rather, lay within striking distance. The sky had grown thin and ashen about them, with the forest an ocean of greys and greens far below. No more patrols had shown since the night before.

"We grow close to the dark elf's sanctuary. It was here that she worked her twisted magic to conceive the Repenter in the powerful daughter of the warlord, Zarok," Aevalur said. He shuddered at the memory, and the rest of them did their best to not imagine the mechanics of this conception.

Aevalur and Ilias seemed to be the only one's not feeling the effects of sleep deprivation from the long and fragmented nights on the mountain. Mars studied them for a moment. The elves did not ever sleep, but only mediated for a few hours before they were fully rested. How nice it must be, he thought enviously.

The last climb came plagued with rockslides. Aevalur led as boulders rolled down around them, kicking up bursts of gravel. At last, they rounded the final edge to look over the caldera.

Arthus fell to a knee. Mars was close behind him. Ilias and Aevalur shared a glance before looking to their human companions. "We will rest here for a moment," Aevalur said. "Perhaps we can refresh with some help of Aeyr and Awae."

"For real. Arthus, can Aeyr deliver us a cup of coffee or something?" Draelo said, before laying out on the gravel.

Mars sat on the rock. His eyes burned and his body was shutting down, but worst of all was the feeling of depletion. The world was looking dull and uninspired as the connection with the arcane became strained. Physical combat sounded difficult enough, but the idea of casting another spell felt as if it would shatter his soul.

Kasia leaned back against the black rock. "Almost looks like the Sky Pond," she said, looking out over the caldera with burning eyes. The hollow of the mountain was like a slightly bowlish plateau. A lake lay in the center, wide and deep where magma had long risen from flows in the mountain. An island lay in the center of the flat plain, a blue gem set in the black sands. A massive tree like a ruined manor home dominated the small island, spreading twisted branches as thick as full oaks over the water. A lone figure sat on the shores.

"There is someone on the island," Draelo said. The rest looked over the scene, Aevalur and Rylan focused on a granite keep rising with red walls beside the lake. The two elves sat with their instruments in hand.

Between their soft music and Arthus' prayers, some color returned to the dismal landscape.

"Aye. I saw him the last time I tread here. But I do not know whom, or what, he is," Aevalur said. He plucked at his lute, vibrating the very fabric of reality.

Mars studied the figure more closely as the chords rang out. A pale and ashy giant sat naked and solemn by the water's edge, far, far away. A chain ran around the giant's leg, digging into his flesh like roots digging into rock. The other end ran back to wrap around the trunk of the enormous tree. They had passed great trees in the forest, so many that the sight became unremarkable. But this oak was truly staggering, even from so far away.

His gaze went from the man to the keep. Mars felt the draw of arcane strongly on the plateau, concentrated most in two places. The island hummed with a quiet energy. The other source centered on the square red keep plopped by the water's edge, across the black sand plateau.

"Wait," Aevalur said, breaking Mars' concentration. He strummed a more harsh chord on his lute. Arthus had already planted his boot onto the sand. His weapons began to glow fiercely as the black sands began to shift.

"What is it?" Kasia asked, knocking an arrow.

Figures moved just beneath the surface, like desert snakes. One began to rise, sand cascading from a dry skeletal frame. The skeleton rose to its feet and turned, its dry skull looking up towards them. A shattered jaw hung loosely below eyes that glowed the same color as the rusted scraps of armor hanging to its frame. It raised a notched and rusted handaxe towards them. In its other hand, a spear tipped banner held a tattered white cloth. A golden bard played a harp beside a companion with a sword.

"Could it be? The Company of the White Bards?" Rylan said.

"Aye. The noble heroes met their famous end here. Now we must put them to rest, once more," Aevalur said. Arthus charged towards a rustle of sand closest to them.

Kasia let the arrow loose from her bow. The point passed just below the chest of the standard-bearer, snapping a rib off. The undead fighter hardly seemed to notice.

"Mars, you and Arthus are better suited for these creatures. We will cover your flank," Rylan put a hand on Mars' shoulder, guiding him into the sand. Jo hopped from his back and stayed with the archers.

Mars looked over the plain, where more sand was stirring.

"Aeyr!" Arthus called as a skeleton rose from the sand, a rusty sword in its hand. He brought the head of his mace down, shattering the skull into dust. White fire leaped from the undead soldier's tattered robes.

Mars made contact with his own, an armless veteran with a steel conical helmet over its worn skull. Its ribcage and spine splintered apart as he sent his staff whistling through to crush the old bones. Compared to flesh, the impacts felt satisfying along the length of his weapon, like the crack of a baseball at the end of a wooden bat. Others along the plateau began to rise and assemble into formation. Mars picked up his pace after Arthus as they moved quickly along the sand.

"Arthus!" Kasia called out. A skeletal archer drew on him from some yards away. More rose beside it.

Arthus raised his shield as the arrow leapt from the wicked bow. The point of the arrow turned from the shield, planting in the sand at Mars feet as he whirled through a group of axemen. His staff landed blows again and again, bone shattering to spray across the sand. The undead soldiers creaked as they moved, and few brought their weapons close enough to bother him.

As the last one fell, Mars looked back to Arthus. A gust of wind carried sand into his face, with more beginning to swirl into the air. He could no longer make out the undead assembling before the keep, but he could see the paladin's flaming mace trailing light through the haze.

The air soon became thick with the black sand. Mars squinted his eyes, his teeth crunching down on the gristly fragments. Larger specks began to appear in the storm. Looking down, the ground below shifted and whirled.

"Arthus!" Mars called out.

"Here," he replied, his glowing shield getting brighter in the windstorm. "That group will be making a move soon." As he spoke the chords of a lute carried to them in the storm. Much closer, as if projected all around, followed the resonating opera-like voice of Aevalur. Ilias responded in a high tenor. The song and a rush of adrenaline melted the burning weariness from his eyes.

"Back this way," Mars said. He started off towards the growing song. Arthus stopped. "What is it?" He asked, a moment before he saw a black figure pass by them in the dust.

Arthus raised his weapons, lowering into a fighting stance. The shield and mace glowed brighter than Mars' had ever seen. "There it is again." Mars wheeled as the black-robed figure sailed where his back had been turned. "On me," the paladin said, turning to back up towards Mars.

They moved, facing away from each other. The sand blew faster. Mars wiped his eyes, lowering the robe to see a black figure flying towards him.

"Arthus!" he called out. A dagger trailed red behind the figure, a fiendishly beautiful woman that flew a few inches off the ground. Her black robes were open to studded leather armor. The woman's red lips spread wide to reveal needled teeth below two grinning red eyes. Mars swept his staff to meet her, feeling the heat of his companion's mace flame higher.

The staff passed through only sand as the woman disappeared.

Black storm a-blinding as the undead rose. Draelo appeared in the dust. Mars nearly jumped, seeing only black robes before the wild and outgrown afro framing his friend's head. Draelo raised his crossbow towards them.

"Down!" The rogue called, firing a shot as the two crouched. Mars turned back to see nothing but sand. The Priestess of Shibboleth unleashed her draconic fiends. "There's something flying around. Follow me."

Draelo led them a short distance back. The wind blew weaker, and the song stronger.

Warriors of the Watering Rock on the mountain, legions of evil rallying their re-pose.

Aevalur stood with his rapier dipped low beside him and his handbow raised like a pistol. The lute was nowhere to be seen, but the song still poured from his lips accompanied by the chords. Kasia and Ilias flanked the singing elf, bows drawn and raised. Jo huddled between them, sand half-burying her.

"It'll be a melee when they find us. Draelo, draw your sword," Rylan said as he met them between the archers. Rylan's own blade lay crossed before his leather chestpiece. The four of them formed a semi-circle around the archers with a few yards between each fighter. Mars and Arthus took point, hearing the first creak of bones as the undead bore down.

A bowstring thrummed behind. Mars heard Kasia curse before another followed it.

"Rylan!" Ilias called, her voice turning the other fighters towards the ranger. The black robed woman smashed into him as they both fell to the sand. Arthus turned towards the fight, flames trailing from his mace and gauntlet as he lunged forward. The fire burst from the assailant a moment before the weapon crashed in, catching her between the shoulder blades. The woman's body compressed into Rylan beneath, her head smacking down on him. Blood sprayed from his nose as he shot a hand up, wrenching the body away.

Arthus brought his mace up and around, swinging it through with a swing like a terrible golfer to catch the woman full under the chin. Her body lifted into the air, sprawling across the sand on her back, flames bursting from her eyes and mouth. The corpse of the beautiful woman turned into that of a shrivelled old hag.

"Are you alright?" Arthus shouted into the storm. He held a hand out to Rylan who took it with his free hand, reaching for the sword beside him with the other.

"Fine. Get back in position," the ranger replied. Blood dripped to the sand and ran down the front of his neck. He put a hand to where a gash ran over the bridge of his nose.

"They're here," Mars said. Arrows passed by back and forth in the storm, forcing the warriors to take a knee. Forms appeared some yards before them, gaunt and trailing ragged tatters of cloth.

"No use in being caught flat-footed! Let's carve them up!" Arthus called to the others. Rylan looked to say something through his bloody mouth, but the warcry drowned him out. "Aeyr!"

Arthus began to fade in the blowing sand. The archers heard his call and moved closer, sending arrows through to smash through the worn bone bodies to little effect. Draelo tossed a flaming bottle, the glow fading in the sand filled air. Arthus charged and smashed through to the next line of soldiers. A column of fire shot high into the billowing sand, sending shattered bones to rain back down on them.

"Aeyr!" Arthus called before the fire, his weapon like a beacon in the storm.

Mars crashed into the first line of undead, following the wake of Arthus. He had to squint to keep the sand from getting in his eyes. Even still, it was hard to see. Draelo appeared beside him, sword and dagger in hand. Mars closed on another skeleton, a corpse with dried skin and sinew hanging from white bone. The soldier turned to catch Draelo who parried the axe of another before him. Mars' hardwood staff whistled as it cracked through spine and ribs, splitting the creature in half. He caught a glance of Draelo as the rogue slashed a skeleton's arm off just below the shoulder.

He became lost in the storm as the melee led him away, passing along the ceaseless lines of the skeletal battalion. His staff followed in a whirlwind, ringing in his hands as it parried blades and crushed bone. Another song followed him as he punched through the last line, sweat pouring over his face.

"Aeyr!" The call came behind a moment before a burst of energy spread over the sand. Fire fountained into the air.

Mars turned back, falling back into the same flow as he carved through the fray. The group of undead became thicker as he got closer to the center.

"One. Two. Three. Keep them coming!"

"They surrounding us!" Draelo called out.

Mars found Draelo and Rylan first, each engaged with a handful of the dead soldiers. Arthus' mace glowed in a fury as it carved through a dozen more, scattering the dried bone to the wind of the storm. Arthus laughed and bellowed his war ballad as Mars felt icy fear again grip him. He sprinted off towards the surging melee, passing by to smash the femur of one of Draelo's opponents before driving straight into the main group.

"Ooh, and the Lord of Battle charged with his disc-iples on the back of wild steeds. They took no prison-ers for they gave no mercy, the Band of the Righteous Creed. Mars!" The shield and mace worked in tandem to off balance, parry, and crush the skeletons. It was an orchestra, and Arthus was a genius conductor.

Mars' staff swept through. He did not pick targets, sending a wide arc. When the staff slowed he drew it back, driving again until he created space between the surging skeletons and Arthus.

"The wizard lifted his staff in the name of right-eous war. His staff of lightning-" Arthus grunted as a blade slid down the arm of the mace, halting at his gauntlet. The sword-wielder burst into flames as Arthus shoved the blade off. "When the undead lay again buried in their prop-er place, the warriors stormed the keep to kill that dark elf bit-" again his song paused as a towering skeleton rose up, a halberd raised to sweep down towards his helm.

Mars lifted a hand, lightning channeled from his staff and through him, raising the hair on his head and body. The air cracked with a boom of ozone and thunder. The storm surged with more electricity as small purple bolts crackled through the charged air in a dome shape around them. The halberd-wielder scattered to dust as the arcs branched through it.

Another sound of thunder followed as a blade rang off Mars' helm.

He staggered away from the impact, rolling across the sand. Blood dripped into his left eye and filled his mouth, mixing with the crunchy sand. Fortunately, the impact was not straight down, but a swing towards the side. He went with the impact, rolling away and jumping back to his feet.

He turned to sweep his staff out before him. A pulse of sparks scattered from the impact of the wood on the attacker's skull. Draelo appeared beside him, looking a bit fuzzy, though Mars could not tell whether it was the impact or the sand obscuring his vision. He spat out a wad of salty, grainy blood.

"I think we've broken the main force," Draelo said, replacing the short sword in his scabbard as he unslung the crossbow. "There's another one of those things flying around."

Rylan charged past them through the gloom. His sword flashed to lop a skull off of a skeleton between Arthus and the archers. Mars could just make out Aevalur turning to raise his hand bow.

The group pulled together as the last soldiers fell. Another black form sailed through the air around them, a volley of arrows following it. The winds began to shift, the sandstorm quieting.

"There," Ilias raised her bow, sending an arrow to strike the flying creature, this one a man. The arrow caught him full in the chest, stopping the vampire's flight. The creature landed flat on his back, stuck like a harpooned fish. Draelo approached, releasing a shot deep just to the right of Ilias' arrow. The bolt punched into where the man's heart should be.

The wind died down enough for the red walls of the keep to show in the distance before them. Moments later, the last sands fell from the air, and the day became clear once more.

"There," Rylan pointed with his sword before the towering granite walls. Three more of the black robed figures stood before the gate.

"Behind us, too," Kasia said. Hobgoblin riders appeared on the rim of the caldera, assembling along the ridge.

"Quickly!" Aevalur tore off towards the keep. The others fell in behind. Jo hopped on Mars' back as he started running.

"Give me your shield! You can't move as fast with that armor!" Mars called to the paladin.

Arthus grunted on. "It's too heavy for you. I am the wielder, just keep moving."

The elves and Kasia, moving the swiftest, fired as they ran. The vampires dodged the missiles easily, shadows trailing their movements. Mars glanced back to see a banner rise on the ridge. A moment later a goblin beside it lifted a horn to its lips.

Ahooo! The call came solemnly across the plateau at their backs. Standards billowed in the air. The cavalry tore off across the plain.

"Draelo, on me. Rylan, take the flank with Ilias. Kasia, keep that bow firing. Don't look back, we must punch through to the keep," Aevalur panted. He slowed, falling back to Arthus and Mars. "Mars I need you to dodge the melee and scale the wall." The elf produced a rope from within his robes. "Tie off the line, we'll need to move quickly after those creatures are dead."

"Let me fight, you are faster," Mars replied.

"I am better for fighting these beings. You must do this," the elf said, handing over the rope. "Do not deplete yourself!"

Mars began to loop a knot around his staff as they ran on. Jo bounced and grabbed at him on his shoulder. With it done, he coiled the rest of the rope around his body. He would not miss the fight completely. He watched as the center creature at the gate raised its hand. Mars focused on him, feeling a spell rising as he focused to siphon off the vampire's gathering magic. He reached into a pocket of his robes.

"Zot!" The word sounded from his lips, clear despite the rapid breaths pouring from his chest. Mars focused on his target: the chest of the center vampire. A chain of lightning met the sailing components, vaporizing them in the air as the violet bolt leaped from his hands and through them. A breeze swept over the runners as the bolt grabbed a channel of air beside them. The main channel linked his hand to the chest of the center vampire, branching out to the others.

"Press!" Rylan called, pulling ahead of the others with his sword high. Mars peeled off to the left, launching his staff like a spear high over the ramparts. He pulled the rope back until the staff became lodged somewhere on the ramparts. Jo leapt from his back to the rope and scrambled up.

Rylan and Draelo met the first vampire as Aevalur swept to the right. His bow snapped, planting one of the short bolts into a vampire's chest before he followed through with his rapier. Arthus pressed on, still a few yards behind them.

"Hurry!" Mars called as he took the rope, scrambling up towards the ramparts. Another horn call bellowed closer behind them on the plain. Mars climbed on, feeling the staff sliding along whatever it had lodged against. At the top, he found the weapon wedged precariously between two ramparts, one end only a slight shift from sending the staff slipping out of place. He worked quickly to fasten the rope to an iron sconce.

"Riders!" The hobgoblin cavalry tore across the black sand atop the wolf-like beasts. Behind the riders, two columns of soldiers marched in dense columns. Mars raised a hand towards the area between the cavalry and the keep wall. He felt the last gasp of the arcane within him surge as if against a shattering dam. The ring vibrated and grew hot. The invisible flow of that pure energy gathered in the center of the plain, over the black sand.

Blades rang out below. Another horn sounded as the wolf-riders tore across the sand. He tuned out the melee. A point began to glow where the energy gathered. Mars felt the dam within him breaking apart as the light grew stronger.

The riders were almost upon it. The white light grew more, stronger than the fading summer sun high in the flame-licked sky. The nearest riders skewed away, smoke rising from the hair of the wolves and tunics of the hobgoblins.

The rope jerked tight beside him.

A dark hand grabbed at the rampart a moment before Draelo fell over the wall. Kasia came next, wasting no time as she took the ramparts and drew her bow. Ilias came, then Rylan.

"Go, warrior!" Aevalur's voice boomed from below. Arthus sprinted from the crushed body of a vampire towards the rope, slowing the line as he unfixed the large shield from his gauntlet and sheathed his mace.

The riders began to close in, dazed but moving fast as they passed by the brilliant globe of light. Two arrows struck the lead wolf, sending the rider and beast tumbling in a spray of sand. Draelo worked the arm of his crossbow. Arthus began his slow climb.

"Crossbowmen!" Rylan called. A line of hobgoblin cavalry raised heavy bows. The ones nearest to the globe of light burst into flames. Mars vision blurred, specks of white and the brilliant light of the sphere frying his eyes. An arrow struck the lead crossbowmen before he could fire at Arthus on the rope. Mars poured himself into the orb, bleeding himself of that most joyous arcane energy. The sphere grew in intensity as the sand below started to melt.

A bolt struck the wall beside Arthus as he neared the top. Aevalur waited just below him with his feet on the wall. A rider grasped onto his wolf as the creature ran full tilt at the wall, leaping to push off the granite. The beast soared up, it's jaws snapping shut an inch away from Aevalur's boot. The rider fell off the back, his wolf falling back to crush him.

Four bows thrummed in response as Rylan joined the archers, two ringing to the sound of flexing bone and wood, the others snapping the quick retort and slap of a crossbow.

Arthus' gauntlet at last appeared on the rampart before he was grabbed and dragged onto the landing. A panting laugh escaped him as Aevalur rolled over beside him. "Holy hobgoblins, we just killed some vampires!" He said.

Aevalur joined his laughter. "The creatures of night burst a-flame, when the glowing mace of Aeyr shined their evil shame."

"The lord of might brou-ght the fight down from his golden halls! Sing it, men and elf alike!"

The orb still glowed brighter. Mars could no longer control it as it became like a runaway fusion reaction. He no longer fed the light, it was now stealing it from him. Jo began to tug at his robes.

Like a cannonball being forged, the shell shifted as the outside hardened over a molten core. Riders further away began to burst into flame, smoke rising from the fur of the wolves that ran off, yelping. The columns split apart to move around it. Arrows bounced off the wall. One flew by, less than a foot to his left.

Rylan shoved him to the ground. Mars felt the final shudder leave him. The sphere dropped to the ground, splashing molten sand around it. He laid on the stone with his arm seared red. Rylan slid down beside him.

"Mage, are you okay?"

Mars could not speak.

"He is drawn. You will be weak and melancholy, but you should recover," Aevalur said. "Winter must be near for a feat like that."

"We have greater concerns," Ilias said.

Kasia and Aevalur leaned Mars against the rampart. They turned to look out over the compound. There was nothing within the shell of walls but more black sand.

##  Chapter 17: Game of Gods

Aevalur rose. Before the walls, just out of bowshot, the hobgoblin battalion stood at attention. A ball of red-hot iron sat in a crater of molten sand. One hundred spears rose among the ranks of the soldiers. "It matters not. Come. Quickly."

Aevalur ducked below the ramparts as he ran along towards the outside wall. He led them along the raised platform until they stood on the opposite end of the front gate, looking out over the lake.

"Come! There is a boat." The elf fastened the rope around the stone before jumping from the top of the wall. The others followed, climbing down. By the time the group found the ground, Aevalur had already prepared the boat.

"What about that giant man?" Draelo said, stepping aboard the small craft. The rest crammed on, Arthus and Aevalur paddling with the water only inches from spilling in. Mars sat at the bow, staring blankly at the island with its single large inhabitant. He held his seared arm. The pain screamed out and fell on numb ears.

"We have no other choice. Prepare for anything," Aevalur said.

The boat rocked and crept across the water slowly. The man, seated with his ashen face gazing into the clear water, grew larger and larger.

The craft at last came within forty yards of shore before he lifted his head towards them. Shining white eyes fell on them. Arthus' shield and mace fired to life, responding with their own golden glow.

The giant rose to his feet. Heavy chains running from him to the tree rattled. The boat began to speed up, as if drawn to him.

"Greetings!" Aevalur called, his handbow low behind his back.

Greetings, Adventurers. Outsiders... The voice hummed through the water, like that of Aeyr's in the stone of the temple. But Mars could hear it clearly in his head, flowing through as if carried on a breeze from another world.

The boat bumped against a root, nearly spilling them over. Arthus saved them by jumping out into the water. Jo hopped onto Arthus' back and vaulted to shore.

"Hello, forest creature," an external voice said. A handsome grey face so generic as to be nearly featureless smiled as it looked down at the monkey. He held a massive hand out. Jo scrambled up his arm, a muscular limb of grey skin marked with runic brands.

"May we join you?" Arthus called to him beside the shore.

"Join me." He leaned down and reached towards Arthus, lifting him from the water like a submerged kitten.

Kasia chewed at a bloody lip as the giant set Arthus down on shore. None of them had any doubt what those hands could do to Arthus. Mars looked away to linger on Kasia. He was certain that she had had more wounds before. He glanced down at his arm. The burnt flesh appeared less recent, like it had happened a day ago instead of only a few moments before.

"Come on. Don't you see? He's an angel!" Arthus called.

An Angel... I am Mora, The Weeping Solar. The giant's voice was an entire symphony, one that echoed with sorrow.

Mars grabbed hold of a muddy root and dragged them closer. He closed his eyes and bit down as the rough wood rubbed at his exposed burns. The pain was fading, but slowly.

"Outsiders, I have awaited your arrival for nearly three centuries." The voice, even though it did not exist in their mind, still did not come entirely from the giant's mouth. It was as if several great voices were speaking from all around them.

"We're here, alright," Draelo said. The boat stopped in a swell of roots, unable to get any closer to the bank. Graceful as a cat, Draelo walked across them to shore. Mars got off next, following.

"You are."

"You weren't sure we would come?" Arthus asked.

"Even for I, these centuries have been hard to bear on this plane." The massive iron chain rattled again as the giant took a step away from the water. Mars followed the chain to the tree. Even beside the giant man, even after he had seen so many impressive trees in the old growth of the forest they almost became boring, it was a truly breathless sight. The ancient gnarled monster, with its grey-white bark, towered from the island like an apartment building. The island itself was composed almost entirely of its roots.

"You knew we were to come?" Rylan said. "How?"

"The writ of Imizael is scrawled across my mortal form, as it is scrawled upon my soul."

The runes glowed on his skin like the embers of a dying fire. Some no longer glowed, but were blackened brands. "Whether you would come or not, I had much time to philosophize about."

"What philosophy was that?" Arthus said.

"Philosophy of Gods and Mortals, Human of Far-Away Earth. Even the Gods do not know if reality follows a thread, or if it is like a stone tumbling down a mountain." Does the answer torment them as it has me these thousand years?

"Why are you called The Weeping Solar?" Kasia asked, coming to shore. She looked up into the wide canopy rising over them.

"So many questions, such as none that have been asked of me in so long." Mora backed up a step, sitting on a knot of root. They all took an unconscious step further from the bank, feeling more comfortable without the strange man towering over them.

"I am The Weeping Solar because Imizael, the Great Bard of Many-Faces, weaved his trickery upon me." Glowing white tears ran down from his eyes, falling to the ground around the root. Flowers with petals of ash sprouted where the tears landed, withering to drift away like burning paper.

"He imprisoned me, a Sentinel of the Hall of the Gods, on this plane to foresee the prophecy. I am bound to obey the rules of his game here in this mortal realm." Mora lifted his arm, shaking the chains as the seals dimmed and glowed. And I weep for the wings which cannot carry me back home to those timeless halls.

"I may weep no more, for you outsiders have come at last, for other gods have their own games. And though you will not slay the priestess on this day, the defeat of her champion may still pass."

"May?" Draelo said.

May, rogue. The Winter Star is Nearing. A mortal corruption screams into the ether. Evil rallies to its call.

Arthus cursed. "We have to get back."

"Back?" The solar's chuckle vibrated from the lake itself. Back, when even the Gods are doomed to only go forward?

"Forward, then. We have to fight," Arthus yelled.

The laugh echoed louder, the sky joining in with the water. "How small the lives of men are." How small my own must be to the power of Imizael, and he, even, to the Gods without form, the internal voice cried.

The shaking laughter stopped as the solar looked back down to the water. On the other bank, below the red walls of the keep, the hobgoblins assembled. Arrows fell into the water, far short. Mora's white eyes lifted from the lake back to them.

"You have won this hand over the Priestess of Shibboleth. But the rewards of Imizael are like bricks of gold in a drowning man's pocket." The Great Bard's honeyed words turn to ash upon your tongue. I know you know, Human Conduit of the Arcane. Words are written as the time passes, but in the arcane the future echoes.

"Know what?" Rylan said. The group turned to look at Mars.

Mars squeezed his hand. Scabs were forming, but the pain still seared his mind hotter than the words of the angel. The very soul of his world had been drawn out and solidified into the iron ball that laid before the gate of the keep. Now, he could feel but a touch of it returning to him. The arcane here was raw and exposed, like the night sky over a high desert. It ebbed within the withered and sickly grey bark of the colossal tree. Something dark laid in it.

Kasia followed his eyes to the tree. Red sap bled from a spot in the greying bark. Near the base, it dripped down over a mask of wood. The masked face looked out at them from within the massive trunk, sap running from its eyes like tears.

"The priestess broke enough seals so that the book could move across worlds. It found the corruption it needed. We were only caught in its wake," Mars said.

"Is that a person..?" Arthus said, looking at the face.

Kasia stepped closer, up the incline towards the trunk. "Who is that?"

"Trey. Trey Robinson," Mars said.

"Trey? What is he doing here?" Kasia leapt forward another step and ran up towards the tree, putting her hands on the bark. "How long has he been... stuck in there?"

"As long as we've been here." Mars said.

The arcane reached across worlds, returning with a balanced grasp.

"Trey Robinson for us? I wouldn't call that balanced, I'd call that a bad trade," Draelo said.

Ilias took a step towards the tree. Her silvery brow furrowed over golden eyes. She shook her head. "I feel it here as I've felt it for many months. He seethes with a chaotic power. The Spirit screams in anguish."

A mother to all. Her children echo her screams. The realm is waning in darkness.

Kasia's hands stopped searching the trunk, finding nothing. She turned back to the solar. "Release him!"

"They are bound in unnatural magics." To live apart, one must perish. A sacrifice must be made.

"I don't care about the sacrifice, get him out, now!"

"This tree is the mother of the forest, a natural conduit of the arcane for all the realm," Ilias said. "I would die before I let it perish."

Kasia looked up to the angel, ignoring Ilias. "I want him out. I don't care what the consequences are. We can still win without it."

"You sound like the Stoics," Ilias said. "You said it yourself, the arcane makes life worth living. You would make the realm of the forest like your own world?"

"In my world, forests don't need magic to thrive. Trey did not ask to be brought here."

"Neither did you, yet you leave a mark on our world all the same."

"This is not our fault! This is not Trey's fault, either. He is no corruption. He's just a scared boy with no part in this!" Kasia said.

"An instrument of evil. His very presence sows evil in the Mother Spirit," Ilias snarled.

Rylan put a hand on the elven woman's shoulder. "I hear the music as you do, and nothing but cowardly bile in the words of the Stoics. Heed, though, for this is the outsider's decision. They were brought here for this very purpose."

Ilias brushed his hand off and took a step away. "You men hear nothing but your own thoughts of conquest over all the realms. This is not their decision. Aevalur, how can you remain silent with this talk?"

"Ilias," Aevalur said quietly. He had circled the island, moving slowly as he looked over the mythical tree. When he returned, his striking face was veiled as Mars had seen it in the dark and dusty space of the underground study. His elegant form moved as if it were again burdened by Torrin's chains.

"Does the blood of the elves not course my veins as it does yours? Do I not hear the music as you do, as our mothers and fathers have for thousands of years even before the coming of man?"

He laid a hand on the bark near the mask. "For so long I yearned to hear the song of the forest once more, yet when I was freed at last, a solemn chord was all that travelled to my ears. So I knew the Oracle Books were not the Writings of Fate, but the work of meddling god. The prophecy must be seized by the Outsiders. We will hear the song once more. Quieter, sure, but peaceful and pure. A new tree shall grow in this spot, and so it will get louder once again."

The Outsiders must decide. For even the Gods envy and tremble how they forge their own destinies.

Ilias turned away, wiping a tear from her cheek.

Arthus glanced at the tree. "Aeyr said to bring the Gods back. It is unforgivable to destroy a natural conduit of the arcane," he said. "Who is to say we are not playing into Imazaels hand by not making the sacrifice?"

"Forget your stupid god. That is Trey Robinson. He is one of us," Kasia shot back.

"You watch your tone! Aeyr is the God of Righteous Battle!"

"God of my righteous be-hind, I say," Draelo cut in. "I thought we had enough of judgmental white dudes with crazy beards back in our own world. Besides, you said he hated magic."

"Blasphemy! The arcane is what gives life to the glorious, never-ending battle. It births the mighty foes worthy of song, and strengthens the arms of the champions who slay them. The evil keeps the warriors strong and united against a common foe. It is Aeyr's word that in all the realms there shall never be a crusader without a worthy crusade."

"That's stupid," Draelo said.

"Stupid?" Arthus stammered. "Men will always crave the rush of combat!"

"And women," Kasia said.

"Whatever, sure, but without orcs and dragons, who do you think they'll turn their swords on?"

"Oh, I see," Draelo nodded. "Yeah, lord forgive the white man doesn't have actual monsters for their crusades, because then he'll have to 'turn his swords' somewhere else. We know how that goes."

"Oh shut up with that crap. You've been sliding these little jabs at me for years because I'm white. News flash, Theodore, between the now six of us, Caucasians are a minority of two in this whole world. You can feel safe now."

"I know you did not just call me Theodore."

"I did." Arthus glared at Draelo. "And guess what, smart guy, if you want to get home, we'll need more magic, not less. Didn't think of that, did you?"

Draelo crossed his arms. Arthus turned to Mars. "Mars, you're a wizard! How can you not at least want to think this through a little."

Kasia cut him off. "We don't go home without Trey. We don't live in this world, magic or not, after sacrificing him. Mars, you know we can't do this."

More feeling was returning to him, restoring color to the world as his burns felt further away. He could feel the dark energy ebbing from the tree, tainting the very world around. Even so, just being near such a source breathed life back into his tired body. The arcane was the very energy that made this world so great, it was what gave him power greater than a sword ever could.

He turned back to Kasia. "You're right. We have to free him. It isn't called a sacrifice because the choice is easy."

Arthus shook his head.

Draelo sat down on a root. "We ain't getting home, then."

"We'll find another way," Mars said.

"Uh, huh, I'm sure of that."

Mars stared down at Draelo, who looked down as he picked at a stain on his robes."You got something to say?"

Draelo stopped picking and glanced up. "You're the magic guy reading all the books, but so far you've got nil on getting us back."

"You think it's easy? How about you come sit down and comb through the libraries with me."

"Maybe I should," Draelo said, standing up. "Because you've been really dragging your feet and talking nonsense this whole time."

"Dragging my feet how? I can't do anything more than you can, and look, this path brought us to the reason we're here."

"Yeah, this whole time you were doing all this to find a way home." Draelo snorted. "Since day one you've been talking about how this is like your old nerd books."

"Shut up."

Draelo took a step forward. "No, I don't think I will. You've been perfectly happy trying to relive Marshall and Mikey's fantasy fun time. You said it yourself, you couldn't stand the feeling of returning back to your boring old world."

"Draelo," Kasia said softly.

He ignored her. "Well, Mikeys dead. He ain't coming back just because you've become Black Merlin."

"Come on, chill," Arthus said, stepping between Draelo and Mars.

"We've been trusting Mars this whole time to stumble upon the way home in one of those books. But someone could hand him a damn illustrated manual and he'd probably skip over that part," Draelo went on as Arthus pushed him back a step. "You don't even want to go home-"

"Fuck home."

Draelo stopped. Arthus took his hands off him and turned back to Mars. The others stared at him. Even Ilias looked back from the lake.

Mars was just as surprised, the words had jumped out from somewhere deep, a place long sealed and packed away. He felt lighter as they left him, and now, the door was flung wide open. He took a step towards Draelo, ready to throw Arthus out of the way. "There you go, Draelo. Now, grow up and take a good look around you."

Draelo bristled, standing up straighter as he took a step back.

"You think I owe you something? Do you really think I would give this up for my 'boring' life back home? Give up a literally magical world of unexplored wilderness to get back to Banneker?"

He took another step towards Draelo. Arthus stepped out of the way.

"And even if I did, what? Stroll back to my house on Peach Tree with my moms scrubbing the damn floor for the thousandth time? She doesn't even look at me anymore! Just sleeps and scrubs and shuffles around like a walking corpse. To get away from that, a place where I watched Mikey waste away into nothing! If that's boring..."

Mars paused as his voice wavered. "Nah. Nah. Fuck home. Sorry if I ain't breaking my back so you can get back for basketball practice. You're a big man, so find your own way back. While you're whining about the past, I'm going to grab and squeeze my future into what I want, something I never saw possible back home."

Draelo's jaw clenched as he looked off across the lake. A ballista leaped on shore, launching a rock high into the air. It crashed into the water with a spray. Ripples carried across, rocking the boat slightly.

Mars turned away from him. On the ground, a single ashen flower had not yet blown away. "If I find us a way home, it's only so that you three can have the choice. Me? I've already made mine."

Kasia's voice drifted over from the tree. "Me too," she said. "The second I opened my eyes on that first day, I thought I was in a dream." She chewed harder at her scabbed lip. "Every moment after that, I've been hoping I won't wake up back home."

Arthus nodded, stepping away from Draelo. "My whole life, I've been waiting to feel the grace of God as my family did. Standing in church all those years, I started to think something was wrong with me. Look at me now," Arthus lifted the holy mace, "I'm the champion of one. Aeyr is a god, but he is just one more beneath the magic that is in everything here. You feel it too, Draelo. I know you do."

Draelo looked past them to the other bank. The hobgoblins had broken formation and now swarmed around the shore. A few were stripping their armor and wading out into the water. Further up, by the walls of the keep, others dialed in the ballista for another launch.

A cool fall breeze rustled the stiff leaves high overhead. Draelo closed his eyes as it brushed over his face. "There it is, then."

His eyes flickered back open, calmer now. "I wasn't going to get a scholarship to play ball anyway," he said quietly. "And there's no Principal Jefferson on my case here."

He looked over to Kasia. "Sis, I've always dreamed of growing up enough to take care of you the way you took care of me. I guess it's time. If you want to stay, it's not much of a sacrifice to stay with you."

He touched the mask, red sap sticking to his finger. "Let's get Trey out of there."

The breeze picked up around them.

Outsiders, is this your final choice?

"Yes!" Kasia said.

"Yeah," Mars said.

Draelo nodded. "Uh, huh."

They looked to Arthus. He sighed. "Once again, Trey Robinson ruins everything. Go for it," Arthus said.

So be it. The towering solar raised a hand to the sky. Lightning, brilliant and white, came as if from the deepest reaches of space to blast the monstrous tree. Fire, sizzling with electricity, leapt high as the wood went up in flames around them. They stood in a dome of the heatless and awesome fire.

When the smoke cleared, Trey stood covered in white bark. Something waned, a surge of release radiating from the island. He shook the bark free, gasping for breath.

He looked as he had that last day on Earth. Over his thin frame, the baggy and torn red shirt with a pawn saying 'King Me!' held the faded words reading: Banneker High Chess Club. Marshall looked from Trey to the others. His eyes were refreshed for a moment, as if he could see them all as they were only a year ago when they stood around as Ms. Garfinkle flipped through the strange book.

Arthur stood taller, his robes and armor covering a lean and muscular frame. His boyish face was now covered by a blonde beard, his foppish hair braided like a viking. Theodore was no longer the scrappy loud mouth waiting for his growth spurt to get off the bench and into the game. He cut a tall and dangerous figure with the rapier at his belt. Catherine, most of all, stood with a sheer presence that would have been unrecognizable before. Her eyes were sharp, taking in every rustle of grass around them.

They were almost entirely new people, each standing prouder, with eyes glowing not just from the magic of the world, but with the steely awareness gained from surviving at the thin edge between life and death. Trey had missed out on all of it, stuck in a kind of limbo as a device for the priestess' evil plans, a pawn in the game of Imizael.

He stood on his thin legs for a moment, gazing at them in confusion. He gasped a long breath before collapsing in the pile of ashes.

The time has come to go forward. Mora rose as the chain melted from his body. The ashen skin fell away as gleaming armor appeared over his chest and legs. His eyes glowed brighter as a golden helmet lowered onto his head. He reached forward to grab hold of a flaming spear. His wings fanned out behind him, two massive canopies shading them all from the sun.

The hobgoblins on shore ceased their chants and war calls. A beam of white poured from the sky, bathing the island in its healing light. Mars watched as the final burns of his arm cleared up and the pain vanished. The sterile weariness evaporated as he felt a surge of the arcane fill him unlike any before. The wounds of the others, a gash on Arthus' arm, the knick an arrow left across Kasia's leg, the shattered nose and bite mark on Rylan, disappeared. They began to rise in the air.

Mora's shield and spear floated beside him as the solar brought his palms together before his great chest. Mars closed his eyes as the light became blinding.

#  Part V: Return

## Chapter 18: The Rogue's Treasure

They drifted down to the Spring Rock, splashing into the clear water of the Sky Pond. Kasia swam over and pulled Trey to the surface. Jo looked down at them from the top of the tree.

"Thanks alot!" Arthus called to the sky.

"The Spring Tree and the Mother Tree are sisters," Aevalur said. "It was the only place we could have landed."

"How the hell can trees be sisters?" Draelo responded.

"Now we have to climb back down this blasted rock!"

They swam over to the edge of the pond and climbed up to shore. Arthus went to the far edge, his robes and armor dripping water. He stopped as he looked over the afternoon side to the west.

"They're here," Arthus said.

Mars and Kasia dragged Trey to the shore. At the bank, he climbed up beside Arthus and looked out. Smoke hung over the grassland. In the sky, blue Sola glimmered, a halo of dawn beyond fiery Suna. He felt the Winter Star's power. Even as the arcane dissipated in the Great Forest, Sola's light shone it upon them. The arcane was peaceful and tranquil.

The army upon the plain was not. Fires raged, great bonfires rising where the flowering trees were cut down. Wide swathes of the dry grass smoldered. Banners, dyed with blood and painted with mud and soot, billowed in the smoke. The orcs marched in a tide of surging forms over a sea of goblin corpses littered with arrows and burnt to a crisp.

Before them, the defenders waited atop the walls. Villagers hid behind the logs, men and boys in plain clothes hauling water, pitch, and bushels of arrows. Crossbowmen filled the gaps between the armored monks in their silk robes.

"We have to get down there," Arthus said.

Rylan took the rope from Aevalur. "It'll be difficult carrying the boy."

Ilias sat down on the ledge, the lute in her hand. "Leave him here. I will stay."

"What do you mean?" Rylan said.

The elf indicated her bow and harp. "Everything I can do, I can do from here."

Arthus took hold of the rope and began climbing down. The rock face was different from the Elder's Fall. The rock was drier, and held more cracks and roots where hardy scrubs grew. Draelo took one last look at Trey before following.

"What of you Aevalur?" Rylan said.

Aevalur took the rope. "My days of sitting out battles are over, friend. I must slay the evil I seeded." The elf disappeared over the edge. Mars lashed his staff to his back and followed. Rylan came behind.

They descended as the army marched closer. Trumpets called from the walls, drowning out the horns on the plains. The orcs beat drums and chanted. The air held the smell of burning flesh and horror.

Flaming logs flew into the sky from catapults as they touched down at the base of the Spring Rock. The logs fell short, bouncing a few years shy of the wall. The crossbowmen, untrained peasants from the countryside, ducked as the monks screamed for them to hold their fire. Over the meeting ground, the Grey Elder looked out over the tide, his hands to the sky as he preached.

"The Evil is revealed! Repent thy sins before death takes you! Drag those heathens down to the fires with you, for the gods of men will show you no mercy otherwise!"

Yune-Wais stood on the wall in his orange robes, armored and helmed with a sword-tipped spear. He turned, his green eyes widening as he saw them.

"Rylan and students!" He called. "And is that you, Aevalur?"

"Oh, how the sun shines brighter upon seeing you, Master Yune-Wais," Aevalur said. "Is this now part of the summer labor? My, how the surface world has changed since my exile."

"Indeed. We need leaders for the bowmen and more soldiers."

"Most of all, we must slay the Warlord, The Repenter, Gizmaziek!" Aevalur called.

Yune-Wais turned back to look over the army. "Hold! Hold! Wait until they pass the red stones!"

Behind the main gate, Rylan caught the bridle of a horse, mounting beside a group of warriors holding lances. Des-Ani was among them. Mars climbed to the top wall beside Yune-Wais. Aevalur was close behind. Draelo and Kasia fanned out among the archers, readying their own bows. Arthus ran off to find a group of warriors.

"The cavalry charge will break if their line stays united!" Aevalur said. The orcs marched closer, shields held in front of a thicket of spears.

"Aye," Yune-Wais responded. "These orcs are using keen tactics. Hobgoblin artillery and cavalry are trying to encircle us."

"We must break a hole through. Mars, can you do it?" Aevalur said.

Mars looked over the surging column. They grunted and advanced to the beat of drums that thumped in his chest, ceaseless. The arcane did not flow as it had the last time he was in the monastery, but there was still that blue glow and the fall breeze. He nodded, hesitantly.

Yune-Wais studied them with a worried look before turning away.

"You can! I will rally the horsemen. They must be ready to carve a path through the army to the artillery. You'll know when to break the line." Aevalur started to turn.

Yune-Wais called him back. "What of you, Aevalur?"

"I must slay the Repenter!" The elf disappeared in a crowd of children carrying baskets of soil and gravel to the wall.

"What do you plan to do?" Yune-Wais said.

Mars wasn't sure yet.

The army passed a line of painted red stones.

"Fire!" Yune-Wais called.

The crossbows nearby snapped at once. Down the line, more bolts followed haphazardly. A few of the men shook below the wall as Ty-Leon screamed at them to get up and reload.

The gate opened, causing more screaming. Rylan, now wearing a steel helmet, raised his lance and charged out the gate beside Aevalur. The others followed behind. The orcs cheered at the sight of the charge. Primitive and evil was the sound, dripping with the thirst for blood.

Mars looked down the broken road. The crossbows fired again, bolts punching through steel and iron shields. A few orcs fell and were trampled. A volley of arrows came from further back. Burning logs bounced into the walls, igniting the tar-filled ditch.

He watched as flames spread around the walls. The horsemen became trapped between a line of fire and the marching army. The horses were lathered in a sheen of sweat where their armor did not cover, and the riders glided along atop them with their lances pointed forward.

The rode at a solid wall of steel and spear points.

The Winter Star glimmered in the sky beyond Suna. A halo of dawn ringed the summer sun.

The primal cheers grew beneath the bass of drums. A volley of black fletched arrows flew from the center of the army towards the walls. The horses looked as if they might falter. Yune-Wais watched as the tragedy looked to unfold. Mars stepped forward, a blue rune glowing in his eyes. He felt the arcane gathering in the air as the energy lowered at the line before the horsemen. He brought his hands together as the ground quivered.

"Ki!"

Lighting ripped the sky apart. Blue and violet, the streak blew the orcs apart in shards of steel and a shower of weapons and blood as the bolt connected to the sky. The line stalled as orcs were thrown to the ground. Those that didn't rise fast enough were trampled.

Crossbow bolts rained down on the broken line of orcs, stopping as the horsemen charged through. The riders smashed full tilt through the second line. Lances flashed as sunlight caught the gleaming blades through the smoke. The horses trampled on, carving through the softer archers and reserve forces like a blade through rotten meat.

"A wizard," Yune-Wais said. "It has been many decades since I have seen a conduit of the arcane with such power."

The words fell on tired ears. Mars slumped down beside the wall. The blue glow seemed to dim as the color and richness of the world turned grey and bleak. Over the snap of crossbows and the cheers of the men watching the cavalry, rose the ravings of Max-Kli and the beating of the war drums. They came closer. Ever closer, bringing death to them all.

"Volley! Volley!" Yune-Wais called in a powerful voice. "Warriors, prepare to defend the walls!"

The flames leaped over the ramparts from the tar-filled ditch. The crossbowmen fell back, and began to regroup on the slope of the hill. Warriors swarmed up the catwalks. The orc archers were in utter disarray as the riders waded through them. A final volley of flaming logs were launched as the horsemen broke through the army and began to descend on the hobgoblin artillery.

"Shelter!" Yune-Wais called out. He remained upright as the logs fell down around them. A mist of embers sprayed over a group of crossbowmen as one bounced off the roof of a temple. A few yards down the line, men were thrown clear as another smashed through the wall.

The orcs were close enough now to where Mars could see their faces snarling beneath helms, a mix of rusted metal and gleaming steel. Ladders surfed over the columns towards them, the second line planting the bottom onto the ground and throwing the tops forward. Down the line, Arthus lifted his shield in time to stop an arrow. Draelo and Kasia stood beside him, firing their bows. The end of a ladder fell onto the wall right beside them.

The chords of a lute fell over the noise like a blanket. Over the grunts and calls of the orcs, over the preachings of Max-Kli, over the commands of the monks, the words drifted down, as if the Spring Rock itself was singing.

"The city inside the mountain, the entrance scarcely found. The rogue sought texts of silver, scripts written with gems that bound."

Color returned as the world itself seemed to take a deep breath.

Orcs clambered onto the ladders, crossing over the fire as arrows slammed home through their armor and warriors slashed and stabbed at them. Mars looked from the sky to the fires leaping below him. Orcs screamed and surged below, a column bringing their own ladders towards them. Mars' ring began to glow as he lowered it towards the flames.

"The halls lay dark and dormant, the craftsmen long since gone. Tricked by blue winter, they left their home beneath the ground."

"Shi!" The fires grew, dancing and leaping as they climbed like vines on unseen posts. The orcs lifted their shields as more arrows poured down and the flames became hotter. They climbed more, taking the hair from Mars' arm as his hand began to burn. The heat surged as the warriors stepped back from the wall. Growing still, the orcs screamed and fell into the flames, and the ladders began to catch fire and collapse.

The front line of the orcs took a step back. More ladders surfed over the columns of soldiers towards the front. Arrows smacked into the log wall and were incinerated.

"Others rose from the dark beneath, and took the city as their own."

"Tri-Hal!" Mars pushed his hand out, the fire splashing over the orcs in a wave. The smell of burnt skin and hot steel filled the air over screams as they clambored back.

"Freed from the black halls within the mountain, the rogue speaks the secrets of his claim to twin shimmering suns. "

A series of horns went up over the plain. A stand of banners in the center shook and quivered as the horsemen swept back and carved their way into them.

"The fiends of the abyss will feast upon your very soul! They will grind up your children and drink the sludge as you watch, laughing with glee!" Max-Kli screamed.

A volley of arrows launched from the hill, falling among the stalled and bunched up orcs. They lifted their shields, most too late, as the arrows and bolts skewered them.

"The words of men and fay, that reach across the planes."

The war drums kept beating. The surge of the back lines pushed the front of the column into the fire. The hideous creatures tried to push back as their hair began to ignite. The flames spread, searing flesh filling the air as their green skin bubbled horribly. Arrows were the only mercy given them.

Mars' hand was nearly black when Yune-Wais pulled him back.

"He who repents for the Repenter, may his blade strike true."

Through the smoke, a cloud of dust kicked into the air.

"They retreat," an astonished monk said.

Through the smoke, over the grassland of ash and blood, hobgoblin cavalry rid away. A battalion of reserves marched off as soldiers fled to join them from the artillery, the lines of the ballistas severed. The orcs turned to see the hobgoblins retreating.

It was the most remarkable sight Mars had ever seen. In a single moment, the bloodthirst of the orcs fell away first to confusion, and then to sheer panic.

Another moment, and the mass broke out in chaos.

"Go forth!" A dozen masters joined Yune-Wais' call. He closed the face of his helm and leaped over the trench. The monks followed after him and more volleys fell. Villagers streamed out of the open gates, strong and hardy men with simple weapons. The braver, or perhaps duller orcs hesitated and turned, seeing their faithless brethren fleeing for the hills.

"Weep not, for the rogue found his treasure. Begone his evil sin."

Blades fell on the creatures as they shoved and trampled each other to get away. Blood ran in the charred and body-strewn grassland. Mars leaped after Yune-Wais and moved down the line to regroup where Arthus clattered down in front of the trench, his shield bright in front of his flaming gauntlets. Mars did not feel the pain of his hand as it tangled up fleeing orcs and rang down on the metal of their armor.

"The suns shine not where the fountains trickle of milk and honey, the Gods' voices are clear and bright. The rogue sings of his treasure to all within his sight."

Yune-Wais and the monks sliced into the retreating orcs. Blades flashed red. A force of orcs pulled together, encircled as the arrows still fell upon them. The force that had unified them was broken. Arthus sang his war ballad, emboldening a group of warriors as he charged to break the regrouping orcs.

Mars felt that fall breeze fade away as the blue sun winked in the sky.

"Heed well the tale of the rogue, the tale of envy and greed. Seek not the silver scripts, for the promises of destiny turn to ash with but a twist."

##

##  Chapter 19: Home

Yune-Wais and the surviving masters looked over the carnage of the battle. Ty-Leon kicked over a charred banner that rose from a heap of dead orcs and horses. Des-Ani and two other robed masters laid before a massive orc in steel armor, the great brute's throat open to the sky beneath a heavy helmet. Deep wounds littered the warriors' bodies. One man choked as a master gave him his death rites.

They found Aevalur some feet away. The elf's eyes had closed on the world forever. His rapier and dagger dripped with blood, as did the wounds in his torso.

"The outsiders," Ty-Leon spat. "They brought this upon us." The monk stepped forward, toward the lowered blade of Yune-Wais. Arthus stared back at the red-robed master, his eyes icy blue against the soot and blood smeared over his face.

"We have had enough death before these walls. Would you join the departed so soon?" Yune-Wais said.

Ty-Leon cursed as he lowered his weapon. He walked off, passing a group of white-robed elders who strode among the destruction. They stepped carefully, the stillness expected of them disturbed.

The Grey Elder was nowhere to be seen. But Ms. Garfinkle was.

"Kids!" She called. Her slow steps picked over the bodies, with her nose crinkled up. The weather was cooler, but the odor of death and rot was already hanging over the field.

"Ms. Garfinkle, I'm happy to see you're alright," Arthus said.

"Me? I was huddled away safely in a temple! I am glad to see you all are okay." The old teacher hugged Arthur. "Who would have thought you sweet kids could be such strong warriors." She reached out and snatched Theodore in the hug, too. Marshall and Catherine crowded in.

"We found what was causing the corruption," Kasia said, taking a step back. "It was Trey."

"Trey!" Ms. Garfinkle said, her glasses neary falling from her nose. "Is he... alright?"

"He's just fine, assuming Ilias got him down from the Spring Rock," Arthus said.

The elders began to circle the fallen banners. They turned to see Yune-Wais kneel beside Des-Ani. Rylan stood beside him, bleeding from a dozen different places.

"Perhaps we should leave them to their business," Ms. Garfinkle said. They followed her through the carnage back to the open gate. Along the walls, villagers and children gazed out over the hazy land. Few looked down at the students and their teacher, but those who did, did with hard eyes.

Ilias walked down the long hill towards them. Trey stood beside her.

"And then, my dad told him: 'why don't you just get lost!'" Trey said.

Ilias laughed. "Get lost? You outsiders come from a most humorous place."

Trey stopped laughing as he saw them. "Ms. Garfinkle! Where are we? This looks like DungeonScape. Have you ever played DungeonScape? Arthur, you look like Sir Clarin the Noble! And Theodore... you look like Barrows the Black!"

"That's cool, homie," Draelo said.

Ms. Garfinkle pulled Trey into a hug. He resisted for a moment, and then leaned in. "It'll be okay, Trey. I'm so glad to see that you're alright."

They sat down on the path. More people began to pick among the ruins, turning bodies over to find the wounded and the dead. The children and acolytes rushed water out to the field and the ditch around the wall, putting out fires and giving comfort to the wounded.

"Are those orcs? Are there dragons? Catherine, can you show me how to use that bow?"

"Trey," Mars said. "Do you remember anything from the last year?"

"I've been sleeping for a whole year!" Trey yelled.

"Yes," Ms. Garfinkle said. "Sleeping."

"There were nightmares. A lady was really nice to me, and then a tree started to eat me. Then... I saw a lot of bad things."

"A lady? Did she say anything you remember?" Arthus asked.

"No... Just that I was perfect in every way. She was really nice until the tree started pulling me in." Trey leaned forward on the stairs, looking down at the ground. A tear fell loose from his cheek. "Then she laughed at me. Are we going to go home? I miss my parents."

Ms. Garfinkle put a hand on his shoulder. She glanced at Mars, who shook his head.

"We'll find a way to get back," Ms. Garfinkle said. Trey sobbed in her arm.

* * *

For two days the bodies were pulled from the grassland. Warriors still able to fight rode off to track down the bands of monsters still roving the area. Acolytes and villagers stripped the dead of their weapons and armor, hauling the material back to He-Salden and the other blacksmiths. The monastery would not run low on raw steel for a long time.

Damaged sections of the wall were pulled down. There were enough logs to construct a funeral pyre for the dead. Des-Ani and Aevalur, among many other monks, villagers, and even a few acolytes caught by arrows within the walls, went up in flames on the burning structure.

A mass grave of heaped creatures burned further out in the field.

The smell of death remained heavy in the air. The grass would grow very tall next summer.

The elder with the puffy hair sprouting from his ears, a master of cartography called Ri-Shi, spoke before them all as the embers of the pyres still smoldered.

"Thirty summers, I have labored upon this land. In that time, never have I been party to an attack of this scale. Many of my fellow elders remember the tribe of the Snake Tongues who brought their army of hobgoblins here under the payment of Triblen the Wicked. Many fell to their skilled cavalry, including Fi-Ani, Hero of Moss Keep. A season after that, the Company of the White Bards took their spears into the forest, never to return. In the records, there is no mention of any such attack during the summer season."

"These events will go down in our history. May it remind generations to come why we must always stay ready," Elder Sholin, the woman with purple eyes, said.

Beyond the meeting ground, the land was black. Trenches and other gouges of mud tore up the landscape. No trees stood for as far as they could see.

"Of the strange events, at the center, are the Outsiders. Let us reveal the events that occurred. Masters Rylan and Ilias, speak the deeds of the Outsiders on their adventure."

Rylan and Ilias bowed.

"The Outsiders took to their hunt on the morning of the summer waning. In the hills to the west of Morkop's Keep, they left a scouting force in their wake," Rylan said. "Three orcs and ten goblins, slain."

"The Outsiders arrived at the ruins of Westpoint in the Bastions. The temple of Aeyr is sanctified after lying desecrated for a hundred years. Over a score of orcs lay perished among the ruins." said Ilias. "Later, it has come to light that this stalled the vanguard of the army long enough for news of their presence to reach the monastery."

"By their hand, the warriors of a gnollish tribe fell on the Northern Pass. The ambush redirected the main force of the Repenter as his scouts scoured the mountains."

"The Halls of Famledon have been rediscovered. A guardian of the gnomes has been reawakened."

"Two grey dwarf Archons of Var Thrum, slain," Rylan said with a grim flourish.

"Master Vos' remains have been found and put to rest. My uncle, Master Aevalur, was freed from bondage beneath the mountain."

"Two trolls, slain."

"The wicked Writ of Imizael, the Oracle Books and their dark destinies, and the plot of a Priestess of Shibboleth, uncovered and thwarted."

"Three vampires, slain."

"A Solar of the Halls of the Gods, unshackled. An innocent boy, freed from his corruptive force on the arcane of the forest."

Rylan looked over to where they stood beside Ms. Garfinkle. Her eyes sparkled with pride beneath her glasses. She looked away to dab at them with the corner of her robe.

"They stood shoulder to shoulder with us in battle. Mars Arcadius, breaker of the orc line that allowed us our daring charge. Kasia, the truest bow on our walls, seized command of the village archers after Master Ulsoon perished from a hobgoblin artillery barrage. Draelo's blades ended a breach of orcs over the wall. Arthus, noble paladin, led the charge that shattered the retreating army's attempt to regroup."

"These are the deeds of the outsiders," Ilias said, pausing as she let the next word hang in the air. "Acolytes denied their full rites and cast out in exile. Deeds worthy of song, deeds that will go down in legend among our order, deeds that gave us victory of Gizmaziek, The Repenter Chosen by Golamesh, the mysterious Priestess of Shibboleth, and Wicked Imizael, a God!" Ilias finished.

The elders and masters nodded. Brown-robed acolytes looked on with wide eyes. Sholin turned to Max-Kli.

"The debt has been repaid several times over, on a quest unlike any we've seen since the last great age of heroes," she said. "What say you, Grey Elder?"

Max-Kli peered about with his wild blue eyes. "I say the arcane must die for man to be free of the evil in this world. I say, among us now, stands the Champion of Aeyr, God of not-more than tail-chasing war. Among us now, stands a conduit of the arcane! A wizard of devastating power."

He looked over to Ilias, a smirk on his lips. "But you did us a fine deed destroying that old tree. I say, for now, the debt has been paid, but that one much greater will soon be demanded."

Ilias' golden eyes flashed. The Grey Elder stepped back. With his bluster gone, he was a shrunken form.

"So we shall see," Elder Ri-Shi said. "Until then, I and my fellow elders welcome you Outsiders once more. If you would stay, you are welcome. Welcome as we rebuild, and welcome to aid us as we thrive from this devastating blow, and for you to thrive with us."

Mars, Arthus, Kasia, and Draelo looked at each other. They looked to Ms. Garfinkle, and to Trey Robinson, who was now called Trezibond Magnus. Once again, they could say nothing. For the world they found themselves in offered little choice otherwise. They were adrift about the planes they did not even know existed, stranded in a world beyond what they had ever imagined.

A cool fall breeze carried over the charred grassland. A dawn-light glimmered in a fiery blue sky. A soft touch reached out from somewhere, a whisper on the now-subtle threads of the arcane tapestry. He tried to catch it, reel it in and define in terms of the world he had come from what that feeling, what that curious and beautiful energy of the so-called arcane was.

But the words failed him. It was the feeling of the star-filled sky over a fire flickering beside an unfamiliar path. It was the way that same moment and those that came before met and existed in time as one, for even the quickest of heartbeats. It was music and poetry, love and friendship, the call of the untamed wild and the possibility of adventure.

It was magic.

What a world to be stranded in, Mars thought.

##  Epilogue: The Winter Reverie

Long days of blue-dawn shone on the monastery. The fall breeze was ever-present, flowing through the hill where hammers rang, weavers weaved, carvers carved, and songs were sung.

Arthus, covered in soot and coal, with the hair burnt from his arms, returned home to the terrace of the Outsiders. Kasia rode in on horseback from a vast trek to some long-forgotten place. The ranger's packs were filled with treasures of the wild lands, a small Christmas to the herbalists, smiths, woodworkers, scholars and cartographers. Draelo met her at the gate, a new device from the minds of gnomes carved by his own hand.

Adventurers and travellers from afar visited the realm as the tribes of monsters hid, licking their wounds as they wandered the forest. The news of Famledon explored by surface dwellers once more reached far, bringing in road-weary gnomes who dreamt of their lost home.

Azera Magnus waited to gather her students once again to recount more of their adventure. She began to write a new record. The Writ of Imizael was widely anticipated by acolytes and elders alike.

Visitors arriving on the fresh winter breeze gathered to play a newly invented game. They told tales of the great kingdoms and untamed lands, lost libraries and forges, curses, plights, and Golden Ages all across the land as they tried their hand against GrandMaster Trezibond Magnus, the best chess player in all the world.

Inside the newly built temple of the Scholar, where the centuries of monkish works were compiled, catalogued, and copied, Mars Arcadius poured through the last tomes of the monastery.

The reverie of winter, with its loose and chaotic and free power, took away much of the gravity of difficult decisions. Nothing more remained of the strange events that had brought them here. The horizon winked back at them, promising untold wonders beyond the monastery.

It was time to go see how wide this world really was.

##  After Note

Thank you, mysterious reader, for taking this journey through the Arcadium. This is a debut work, and as can be expected, more stories are likely to follow our four heroes as they travel the realms. As of now (Summer 2020), I have no title to announce for a second foray into the Arcadium. Don't think me lazy, though, for you can expect these titles coming to an online retailer near you:

Resonance (Milky Way Continuum)

Fall of the Last Ryūjin (Milky Way Continuum)

Escher Lewis, Destroyer of Worlds

Space Adventures

For more information about future releases, critiques, a friendly hello, or any other type of query, contact deepgnomepublishing@gmail.com.

