《Underkeeper》


 1. An Old Acquaintance

    Bernt leaned over a backed-up toilet and flourished a shabby wand. Casting an all too familiar spell for the fourth time that day, he scolded the wooden throne¡¯s owner.


    ¡°You can¡¯t just pour expired healing potions down the drain! They interact with the living matter in the pipes and down in the sewers to form slimes by the dozen, and those little bastards will latch onto every pipe in the street to feed on what comes washing down.¡± He knew that from experience, having spent the last week working his way up to the source of the problem¡ªthe back room of this man¡¯s workshop.


    The middle-aged alchemist really should have known better.


    The toilet gurgled as the water, sewage, and living congealed matter in the pipes boiled. A few droplets spurted out the top, spattering on Bernt¡¯s already filthy work robes. Then the whole mess began to drain down and out into the sewer.


    Of course, the culprit, who didn¡¯t look chagrined so much as annoyed, did know better. Expired potions were controlled substances, meaning that they had to be destroyed by trained professionals at specialized facilities¡ªfor a fee. While dumping them down the drain was illegal, the man would only be fined once per proven violation. So, as long as he¡¯d dumped a lot of potions down the drain at once, he¡¯d likely saved a bit of silver in the bargain. That it came at the expense of the entire neighborhood and his own clogged-up toilet didn¡¯t seem to concern him overmuch.


    He didn¡¯t even try to deny it. Instead, he pinched his nose and made a shooing gesture at him.


    ¡°Mind who you¡¯re talking to, Underkeeper. You couldn¡¯t afford one of my potions even if I bottled it on your end of that drain. Just do your job and get out of my shop. Your smell is going to drive away the paying customers.¡±


    Bernt sighed. What was the point in arguing? Pulling out a sheaf of damp papers, he filled out a citation for illegal waste disposal, imbued it with his mana to sign it, and cast a minor duplication charm for the alchemist¡¯s records.


    In his first year, he¡¯d repeatedly written to the city magistrate to make him aware of the ineffectiveness of illegal dumping penalties, but the magistrate didn¡¯t care. The citations brought in a bit of revenue, and the city had more urgent issues to deal with. Monster incursions, political tensions with neighboring states, organized crime, and the occasional rogue warlock left little time for things like updating city sanitation regulations. Besides, the problem was already solved. After all, that was what city maintenance and, more specifically, the Underkeepers were for.


    Swallowing his irritation, Bernt handed the man his copy of the citation and turned to go. He¡¯d finally tracked the slime outbreak to its source and made the neighborhood drains safe to use again. It wasn¡¯t glamorous, but it mattered to everyone who¡¯d woken up to find sewage backing up into their homes over the past week.


    Behind him, he heard the alchemist scoff. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you filthy crap-crawlers even bother with the paperwork. Just send me a bill next time.¡±


    Bernt hesitated, jaw clenching.


    Next time.


    Without answering, he stepped outside and closed the door just a little too firmly, feeling the blood pulsing at his temples. Before he could think better of it, he whipped out another sheet of paper. A quick duplication and an adhesion charm later, the citation was posted to the alchemist¡¯s door. Word would get around, he was sure.


    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s a pretty good glue cantrip!¡± came a friendly voice from behind him.


    Bernt¡¯s momentary sense of satisfaction withered and died.


    Pasting a neutrally friendly expression on his face, he turned to greet the newcomer.


    ¡°Hello, Therion. Nice to see you.¡±


    Therion was Bernt¡¯s former classmate at the Mages¡¯ Academy. He was also a painful example of what Bernt could have become with the right kind of backing¡ªa fairly successful adventurer, already rank 3 after just two years in the business. Unlike him, Therion was the scion of an adventuring family, born with connections and money that Bernt couldn¡¯t even begin to grasp.


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    Of course, anybody could become an adventurer. Quests were posted publicly by the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. But that didn¡¯t mean that just anyone could survive adventuring. Even low-ranked quests were dangerous, and people who didn¡¯t come prepared with expensive equipment and healing potions were unlikely to live very long.


    ¡°Excuse me, I need to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hey, wow, what¡¯s this?¡± Therion was peering over Bernt¡¯s shoulder, reading the citation with an intensifying frown. ¡°Old Julian¡¯s been dumping his old potions down the drain?!¡± His eyes snapped to Bernt, then back to the citation, and then back to Bernt. ¡°Wait a minute, what? You¡¯re a muck mage?¡±


    Bernt sighed.


    ¡°Underkeeper,¡± he corrected. ¡°I¡¯m an Underkeeper.¡±


    Underkeepers, more casually referred to as muck mages, sewer sorcerers, or waste wizards, were the dregs of magery everywhere¡ªthe ones who didn¡¯t have what it took to make it as a real mage. Specifically the connections and resources to become an adventurer, the raw talent to be sponsored as a war mage, or the funds to purchase membership in the Mages¡¯ Guild, which allowed one to practice any number of arcane professions privately in the city.


    This was the conversation he didn¡¯t want to have.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Therion asked, wide-eyed.


    He didn¡¯t get it. People like him never did. As far as he was concerned, the startup costs of a freshly graduated mage were an afterthought. Even if he hadn¡¯t personally had money to launch an adventuring career, he could simply have borrowed from his family. Alternatively, he could have leveraged his connections to have the guild licensing fees waived¡ªnot that he needed to. He was always going to be an adventurer.


    Bernt sighed.


    ¡°Nothing happened,¡± he said, trying not to sound too defensive. ¡°I just can¡¯t afford adventuring equipment yet. I¡¯ll be out there soon.¡±


    Therion¡¯s facial expression became painfully awkward.


    ¡°Oh¡­ Uh¡­ Do you need¡­ I mean, you want me to see if I can¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Bernt interrupted, scowling now. ¡°I don¡¯t need charity!¡±


    Help from some rich adventurer princeling was the last thing he needed. He knew the way the world worked. Accepting a favor like that would come back to bite him later. Even if the man was just being nice, it would cost Bernt something more important¡ªhis autonomy. People like Therion built small crowds of followers that way, bought and bound to live in their shadows.


    That wasn¡¯t going to happen to Bernt. Nobody was going to rope him into service¡ªno matter how congenial they were about it.


    He was saving what he could and it was adding up. Slowly. A few more years, if everything went well, and he could wash off the stench of the Underkeepers once and for all¡ªboth figuratively and literally. And he¡¯d do it himself, so that when the time came, he couldn¡¯t be pushed in any direction he didn¡¯t want to go.


    ¡°Right, right, I remember. Relax, I didn¡¯t mean anything by it.¡±


    Therion eyed Bernt¡¯s wand with more than a little skepticism. The magical focus looked like something that a goblin enchanter might have cobbled together while drunk. It might have been, for all he knew. Bernt had found it in a clog in one of the city¡¯s storm drains. But it was serviceable, and that was all that mattered to him. Every copper he didn¡¯t blow on mediocre equipment today was money he could spend on reliable adventuring gear later.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ you¡¯re wasted here!¡± Therion went on, clearly unable to help himself. ¡°Pyromancers don¡¯t grow on trees, you know? It would hardly even be charity, I bet my father could have a word with the guild¡ª¡±


    He stopped as Bernt¡¯s expression darkened further, and held up his hands, palms out.


    ¡°Alright, alright, easy! It was just an idea, no need to take offense. I¡¯m sure you have it all handled.¡± He glanced back at the citation again, changing the subject. ¡°Looks like you handled old Julian pretty well. We fought a bunch of those slimes downriver a few days ago, you know? They¡¯ve been a menace for months, harassing nearly every party to come up the road. They crept up on us while we slept, and one nearly got our healer. She¡¯s still waiting for a specialist to arrive from Teres to help with the scarring. Those chemical burns are brutal.¡±


    His jaw clenched and he met Bernt¡¯s eyes. Bernt actually saw purple fractals of arcane energy flickering in Therion¡¯s suddenly intense gaze. ¡°Thanks for catching him. I¡¯ll make sure word gets around.¡±


    Mollified, Bernt nodded.


    ¡°Well, I really do need to get going.¡± He turned away. ¡°I¡¯ll see you around.¡±


    As he left, he felt Therion¡¯s eyes on him, considering. Moments later, the feeling went away with the sound of the door exploding off its hinges into the shop, and then Therion¡¯s voice boomed down the street with exaggerated cheer, magically amplified for the benefit of the public.


    ¡°Oh, hi, Julian! Would you believe what I found posted on your door?!¡±

 2. A Rewarding Job

    Smiling to himself, Bernt made his way down the street toward the lower city administrative district, ready to check the culverts and storm drains and clear out any obstructions before doing the same underground in the actual sewer system. In a more socially conscious world, this wouldn¡¯t require a mage. Unfortunately, alchemical spills, mutated sewer denizens, slimes, and other, even more unusual problems plagued the city¡¯s literal underbelly, mostly because of people like Julian the alchemist. Those needed the attention of a mage¡ªif not necessarily a very good one.


    Normally, running sewer checks was an arduous and boring task that could take days, but he had a secret advantage that would save him hours of trudging through filth.


    Tugging on a mental connection that he¡¯d forged two years earlier, he summoned his familiar. He felt where she was, the creature scampering toward him before she came crawling out of a relatively clean storm drain just a few meters away. She was a skinny, long-fingered imp dressed in a filthy rag and standing nearly two feet tall. Like his wand, Bernt had found her in the sewers.


    She¡¯d been even tinier than now, with gigantic, ugly-cute eyes that looked up at him in quivering terror. Regulations would have required him to destroy her, but he just didn¡¯t have the stomach for it. Some idiot had presumably tried to summon something else and torn her from her home plane instead. She certainly hadn¡¯t had a choice in the matter. He didn¡¯t know what the demon plane was like, but he couldn¡¯t imagine that being abandoned as garbage in a sewer was an improvement.


    So, he¡¯d decided to adopt her as a familiar instead. A bond with a demon would technically make him a warlock¡ªif the bond actually came with any infernal powers, which it didn¡¯t, thankfully. Still, most self-respecting mages avoided stepping anywhere near the line that separated them from warlocks. They viewed them as magical pretenders and amateurs, too weak and talentless to learn real magic.


    That contrasted starkly with the stories that Bernt had grown up with. There, warlocks were portrayed bluntly as the very worst of humanity¡ªsoulless monsters who snatched children from the streets to sacrifice in their dark rituals. In either case, he did not want to be associated with them.


    But¡­ he¡¯d kept Jori anyway. As it turned out, she didn¡¯t actually mind the sewers very much. More importantly, she could move through them at astonishing speed, and with the familiar bond, Bernt received rudimentary impressions of what she saw down there. So, while he checked the storm drains aboveground, she scampered through the sewer mains below, looking for obstructions in the pipes and signs of pests and invaders.


    ¡°Hey Jori, it¡¯s time to run sewer checks. Just follow along below, alright?¡±


    The little imp chittered in response, displaying hideously sharp teeth. She couldn¡¯t really talk, but he sensed her agreement through the bond as she flitted around his legs and nipped at his boot before disappearing back down the drain in a flash.


    He walked his usual pattern, cutting through the maze of streets and alleyways with practiced ease to check every storm drain and access shaft in the district. Eventually, he felt a familiar psychic tug on his mind that drew his attention to his bond to Jori. She¡¯d found something.


    Through her eyes, he saw a mess of garbage, sticks, sludge, and something whitish¡ªprobably hardened cooking grease¡ªthat was starting to accumulate at a junction. It was already slowing down the flow of sewage in the main, which would deposit ever more material until the entire main was clogged. That could make an entire neighborhood uninhabitable for weeks, or worse, cause a disease outbreak.


    Moments later, Bernt was descending down the nearest shaft, where Jori was already waiting for him, jumping up and down in excitement. Smiling at her antics, he tossed her a bit of spicy dried rat jerky, which he¡¯d made himself. It was a recipe he¡¯d often used as an underfed orphan, before the king¡¯s magefinders had discovered him. Sometimes he still liked to have a bite, but mostly he just made it for Jori now. She jumped up, snatching the bit of meat out of the air with her teeth and chittering happily.


    Her help was invaluable to him, because it meant that he worked almost twice as fast as anyone would expect of him. As a result, he could take time off to study, experiment with new spells, and improve his spellcasting basics.


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    Of course, Bernt had already learned all of the basic cantrips at the Mages¡¯ Academy and a fair number of proper spells besides, even earning his basic pyromancer qualification. But true mastery was a long road. It was the mantra of every advanced mage he¡¯d ever met. Weaving a spell even slightly faster or being a little bit more efficient could theoretically save his life someday. He knew it wasn¡¯t as good as actual adventuring experience, but working to save that time was something he could do right now that would benefit him in the future.


    Maybe he should work on his basic force spells. He couldn¡¯t blow a door off its hinges at a moment¡¯s notice like Therion had done earlier, and that kind of thing could surely come in handy. Considering, he headed down toward the next storm drain.


    ***


    At the end of the day, Bernt made his way back to the Halfbridge Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters to submit his daily report and the citation. For the home base of an entire order of mages, it was tiny: just a main room for meetings and a single office in the back. Technically, all nine Underkeepers worked here, counting Bernt¡¯s boss¡ªthe archmage of the Underkeepers. In actuality, they only came here to pick up their daily assignments and to drop off reports.


    As soon as he opened the door, the man¡¯s gravelly voice called his name from the back.


    ¡°Bernt, is that you? Get in here!¡±


    Sighing, Bernt cast a quick cleaning spell on his cloak and hung it up. It wouldn¡¯t remove the stains, but it would kill the smell. He¡¯d done his boots before entering.


    The owner of the voice was a crusty old fellow by the name of Ed. Opening the door to his office, Bernt was greeted by the customary cloud of pipe smoke that perpetually surrounded the man, followed by his equally customary scowl as the smoke cleared.


    ¡°Bernt! What in all the hells happened out there today?!¡± he barked.


    ¡°Ehm¡­¡± Bernt hesitated, but then decided to just keep it simple, holding out the report with the citation on top. ¡°I finished the slimes in the Crafters¡¯ District and started the rounds for the lower administrative zone. Why?¡±


    Ed snorted and then wheezed out a rattling cough.


    ¡°WHY?¡± He took the proffered papers and waved them in Bernt¡¯s face. ¡°I had the damned magistrate¡¯s secretary in here not two hours ago to tell me that they revoked Master Alchemist Julian¡¯s license. The City Guard apparently raided his shop and arrested him to deliver the news. He¡¯s currently in the dungeon for recklessly endangering citizens.¡± He took a breath, collecting himself.


    ¡°So now, I want to know,¡± he said, pulling the citation off the top of the stack. ¡°What could you have possibly cited that old prick for to provoke that kind of response before I even got my hands on it? Do you even know what¡¯s going to happen to you when the case gets thrown out? You have to be able to back up your citations! We don¡¯t have the Mages¡¯ Guild here to cover our asses in a legal dispute!¡±


    That was almost a relief. Apparently Therion really did manage to get the word out to some influential ears.


    ¡°Relax, Ed. It¡¯s fine,¡± he said, taking a seat. ¡°It¡¯s just a normal dumping citation. He confessed to it on the spot, and he¡¯s not exactly a first-time offender.¡± That was an understatement. Julian and others like him were long known to the Underkeepers and their dumping misdemeanors were well documented, though their specific actions could rarely be linked to anything serious. But if Julian¡¯s slimes were compared to samples from those that attacked Therion¡¯s party and found to match¡­ well, they¡¯d probably already done their own tests.


    Either way, none of this was on the Underkeepers. The palace was conducting this investigation on its own. Maybe on behalf of the magistrate himself.


    Ed grunted noncommittally, before finally bothering to read the citation. After a moment, he sat back in surprise.


    ¡°What happened?¡± he asked.


    Bernt did his best not to look smug.


    ¡°One of the alchemist¡¯s wealthier patrons arrived as I was issuing the citation,¡± he explained, ¡°and he didn¡¯t seem very pleased with Master Julian when he saw what it was about.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned,¡± Ed muttered. Then he shook his head. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d see the day¡­¡±


    Bernt stood there for a moment, then cleared his throat when Ed didn¡¯t say anything more. He just continued staring at the citation.


    ¡°If that¡¯s everything,¡± Bernt said, ¡°I¡¯ll see you tomorrow.¡±


    Ed blinked and looked up. ¡°Ah, one more thing.¡± He reached under the table and pulled out a smooth wooden box marked on top with an intricate carving. ¡°The magistrate¡¯s secretary left this here for you¡ªsaid it was a token of appreciation from ¡®the alchemist¡¯s victims,¡¯ whoever that¡¯s supposed to be specifically.¡±


    Curious, Bernt reached out to take it, but Ed didn¡¯t let go.


    ¡°Bernt,¡± he said, his scowl suddenly radiating something more paternal than grumpy. ¡°Be careful. You got the attention of some important people today. That sort of thing doesn¡¯t end well for people like us.¡±


    With that, he let go.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Bernt answered. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡±


    Ed grunted and waved him out, back to his usual self.

 3. Roots

    Bernt hid the box in one of his sleeves, circling around a few well-dressed teenagers as he made his way downhill toward the river. One of them, wearing academy robes, pointed at him as she talked to her friends. They sneered at him, but he ignored them. He wasn¡¯t going to let the judgment of a bunch of rich half-trained fools intimidate him.


    Down the street a young priest stood on a wooden box preaching to a small crowd of passers-by who had stopped to listen. As Bernt passed, he caught a bit of it.


    ¡°¡­ to their influence. Demons live among us, tolerated even by the king himself. It is up to each of us, then, to keep our communities pure of their taint. We can never forget what complacency and tolerance of evil have brought to humanity in the past: the fall of the Empire and the desolation of Harrowick. These are but¡­¡±


    The voice was swallowed up by the noise of traffic. Bernt didn¡¯t disagree with the man on any particular point. History showed that dealing with demons was dangerous¡ªand not just for the warlock. But he also had a hard time seeing Jori as anything other than his rascally little helper. He had a direct line to her thoughts, and he¡¯d never so much as caught an evil impulse from her. Besides, Jori hadn¡¯t made any deals, so far as he knew. People like that priest would see her dead on sight anyway, though.


    It just didn¡¯t quite sit right with him.


    A few minutes later, he turned off the main street and stepped into a familiar alleyway that led to a small, dingy courtyard. While it wasn¡¯t exactly clean, someone had recently picked up the garbage and swept the place. At the far end stood a rickety two-story building. On the lintel above the door, someone had inexpertly scrawled the words ¡°Halfbridge Orphanage,¡± though the paint was so faded now that he could barely make it out in the dim light. An old broom, the brushwood nearly worn down to the shaft, leaned against the frame.


    He opened the door and stepped inside without knocking¡ªthey knew he was coming today. Jori was off doing her own thing in the sewers below, probably terrorizing the local rat population or looking for shiny things. That was for the best. He wasn¡¯t about to risk the kids seeing a demon.


    ¡°I¡¯m here!¡± he called out, taking in the familiar presence of the place. The house smelled of soap and wood, and was always a little too dark.


    ¡°Hello, Bernie. I¡¯ve already got them ready for you in the main room,¡± a reedy voice said right behind him.


    He didn¡¯t jump. The orphanage¡¯s elderly matron, Miss Farrin, had always been light on her feet.


    ¡°Great! Did they do their homework?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Hmph. A few of them did, sure. With most of them, you¡¯ll just have to hope for the best with what you can drill into them.¡± She sighed. ¡°Did you finally get your back pay?¡±


    Bernt smiled.


    ¡°Not yet. The castellan¡¯s office is never open when I¡¯m off work. The only time I can collect my pay is during my lunch break¡ªand only if the castellan¡¯s secretary happens to not be taking hers at the time.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you get them to deposit it for you at the bank?¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s hardly worth doing the job if you¡¯re not going to get paid for it, you know.¡±


    He did get paid whenever he managed to catch the castellan¡¯s secretary in her office. Only a handful of silver each month, but all of it went directly to his savings. Every little bit counted.


    ¡°I know, but it¡¯s important,¡± Bernt said. ¡°Somebody has to do it. They deserve to be given a chance.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but why you?¡± Farrin pressed. ¡°This was an opportunity for you when you were a student, but now? You¡¯re a professional with a safe job and a reliable income. You should be spending your evenings meeting young women and making the most of what you have and are.¡±


    Bernt frowned. ¡°They look down on us, the others. They think we¡¯re incompetent or criminals. That we¡¯re less than they are¡ªthe dregs. I¡¯m not going to accept that.¡±


    Farrin sighed.


    ¡°Who, Bernie?¡± she asked, voice tinged with exasperation¡ªthis wasn¡¯t the first time they¡¯d had this exact conversation. ¡°Who actually thinks that? The magefinders took you out of here and gave you the same education that every other mage in the kingdom gets. And look at you!¡± She gestured at him proudly. ¡°You made it!¡±


    Bernt didn¡¯t feel like he¡¯d made it anywhere. Not yet.


    ¡°I¡¯m an Underkeeper¡ªbarely a mage at all, as far as they¡¯re concerned,¡± he said bitterly. She didn¡¯t understand¡ªcouldn¡¯t, really. As far as Farrin was concerned, a mage was a mage. Who cared what their robes looked like if they could do magic. Bernt knew better, though.


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    Farrin harrumphed at him. ¡°You¡¯re still very young, Bernie. One of these days, you¡¯re going to have to learn to stop looking at yourself through the eyes of people who don¡¯t matter.¡±


    Bernt rolled his eyes.


    ¡°These people do matter! Why do you think this place is so underfunded?¡±


    Farrin waved her hand at him dismissively. ¡°Don¡¯t argue with your elders, boy. Go teach the kids your lesson. You can¡¯t expect them to sit in there just waiting for you forever.¡±


    ***


    Bernt lived down in the lower city, in a former warehouse next to the river docks that had been converted into tenements. It was a bad part of town¡ªeven worse than the one the orphanage was in¡ªbut that didn¡¯t concern him too much. The gangs didn¡¯t bother people who stayed out of their business, and muggers generally avoided anyone who wore mages¡¯ robes, no matter how shabby they might have been. The only thing that mattered to him was that he could rent a room here for twelve silver a month.


    He even had a fairly nice view of the river¡¯s largest dock, one built on a few ancient stone pillars that rose from the waters, cutting through the current. They were all that remained of the ruined bridge that the city of Halfbridge was named for. What happened to the other half, and who had built the original bridge, was lost to history. There was nothing but monsters and a few haunted ruins on the other side of the river. Humans had never lived there at all, as far as Bernt knew.


    Unsealing the protective ward on the door to his room, Bernt then entered and settled down on a comfortable cushion before pulling out the box. He could guess what was in it, but he still held his breath as he opened the catch.


    A wand rested on soft velvet, wrapped in a scrap of paper. He removed the paper and ran his fingers over the wood, taking it in.


    It was fragrant and reddish with a slight charred effect¡ªlightning-struck cedar, most likely. The entire length was carved with runes and channels designed to focus mana smoothly, to improve casting time and mana efficiency while casting. The design was elegant, deceptively simple and incredibly efficient. As he examined the runes more closely, though, his hands trembled. This wasn¡¯t just a general-purpose wand. This was a weapon, made to maximize the destructive potential of the spells cast through it. Specifically, fire spells. It was a military-grade pyromancer¡¯s wand, the type that a war mage would carry¡ªor an adventurer.


    Bernt snatched the paper up from the floor. Sure enough, it was a note.


    Hi Bernt,


    I told Syrah, our healer, what happened. She kept a sample of the slime, and we managed to match it to samples from old Julian¡¯s shop. So, now he¡¯s going to be footing the bill for that Teresian burn specialist! Long story short, you took some real pressure off of our budget.


    Anyway, I might have mentioned that you¡¯re looking to get into the adventuring business, and we decided to invest in your future a bit. We issued a quest to find the source of the slimes and turned it in under your name for the reward that we posted for it. Congratulations, you¡¯re a shiny new rank 1 adventurer!


    You¡¯re welcome.


    - Therion


    He¡¯d told him that he didn¡¯t want his charity. That bastard.


    But¡­ it was a quest reward¡ªfor something that he had actually done. Sure, the quest didn¡¯t exist at the time, and it wasn¡¯t dangerous in the least. But¡­ did that matter? He was a registered adventurer. Technically, anyway.


    This was a big step in the right direction.


    He eyed the wand critically. He¡¯d have to strap a holster onto his arm so he could store it in his sleeve. There was no way he could leave something so valuable lying around in his room, and carrying it on his belt was just asking for trouble from every pickpocket in town. He¡¯d keep using his old wand for work.


    Pushing mana through the wand, he cast a fire shield around himself, marveling at how quickly and easily the spell formed. It was a complex weave that required the caster to generate a double temperature barrier to contain intense heat. Failing to do so correctly could burn the target¡ªhimself¡ªor allow the heat to quickly dissipate into his surroundings, which would turn the spell into something closer to a poorly controlled fire nova.


    In practical terms, that usually translated to a long cast time. Without using a focus, Bernt could cast a fire shield in about twenty seconds. Once he adjusted to this wand, though, he could see himself having one up in just three or four seconds. That wasn¡¯t necessarily fast enough to cast while some monster was trying to eat your face, but it was good enough to use actively in a party context.


    Excitement fluttered in his chest, but Bernt pushed it down. He still had a long way to go. Even relatively modest adventuring robes with basic defensive enchantments cost upwards of eighty gold¡ªhe might barely be able to scrape that together with what he¡¯d managed to save over the past four years, but that still didn¡¯t cover consumables, good traveling boots, a bag of holding, or general supplies. He still had another year to go at least, more likely two.


    But it was a real start, finally.


    His daydreaming was interrupted by a soft scritching sound at his window. Moving quickly, he briefly opened it to let Jori in and cast a cleaning spell on her as she clambered over the sill so she wouldn¡¯t stink up the place. Chirping at him proudly, she hopped down and dropped a headless and slightly chewed-up rat at his feet. Gross.


    At least now he could make more imp treats. She would eat them raw, too, but he knew she preferred them dried and extra spicy. She flitted over to the small cast-iron stove and curled up next to it, hissing at him insistently.


    Obliging, he packed the stove with a bit of wood and lit it with a quick fire cantrip. Imps didn¡¯t need a hot environment to survive, but he¡¯d found that Jori at least preferred it. Or maybe she just wanted him to get on with making that jerky.

 4. Missing Persons

    After the alchemist incident, things mostly returned to normal. Bernt did his rounds, cleaning out blockages, chasing down the odd leftover slime, and, on one memorable afternoon, incinerating an entire nest of mutant rat men. They had been living in the tunnels underneath the dockside market. That is, until Jori stumbled across them during a routine sweep of the area.


    In his free time he kept working on his spellcasting basics. Thanks to his familiar¡¯s support, he also often managed to free up an hour or two during his workday to practice with the new wand. That was good, because there weren¡¯t a lot of places in the city where someone could safely cast destructive fire magic without raising any alarms¡ªor burning down a neighborhood.


    The largest sewer mains in the lower city, near the river, were important exceptions. They were broad tunnels that nearly spanned the width of the entire street above. They also had narrow walkways along one side, so he didn¡¯t have to wade through the sludge¡ªthe smell was bad enough without actually standing in it. Training here was no problem as long as he made sure that the ventilation was clear, so there weren¡¯t any flammable pockets of gas.


    That was a mistake he¡¯d only made once. He managed to protect himself, but a geyser of flame still shot up into the street and set fire to a nearby pile of garbage. Fortunately, he was the one Ed ended up sending to look into the matter, so he just shelved the investigation as inconclusive.


    Things were going well. Very well, even. Until one morning, Bernt showed up at headquarters to find nearly all of the Underkeepers, seven of them, assembled in the room.


    They were never all here at once. On paper, everyone started at the same time every morning, but in practice it didn¡¯t matter. As long as they finished their assignments, Ed didn¡¯t care when they showed up. Most of the older Underkeepers were early risers¡ªthe sewers ran a bit lower before dawn, before the populace started adding their morning effluent to the flow.


    Ed scowled at him in greeting. ¡°Nice of you to join us.¡±


    Bernt was very nearly the last one to arrive. Since he didn¡¯t have to walk the sewers very much on an average day, he didn¡¯t see any reason to sacrifice perfectly good sleep.


    What was going on? Had they found out about Jori?


    No, it couldn¡¯t be. Looking around at the faces of everyone assembled, Bernt saw impatience and a bit of worry, but nothing accusing or suspicious.


    Besides, it wasn¡¯t that big of a deal. It was totally legal. Ed would probably just grumble at him and double his workload if he found out. Hells, even if he were a warlock. The Underkeepers couldn¡¯t be picky.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Dayle?¡± he asked. At least he wasn¡¯t the last person to arrive. That was a little strange, though.


    Dayle was one of the aforementioned early risers, a friendly type who trained Bernt back when he¡¯d first swallowed his pride to join the infamous muck mages. He¡¯d had to swallow it further once he realized that he wasn¡¯t just the youngest, but also the least competent mage in the entire organization. It was Dayle who¡¯d taught him just how underrated the mages who made up their order really were, and who¡¯d helped him turn his previously academic practice of magic to real, practical use.


    Dayle should have been here by now.


    Ed sighed. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re here for. Dayle didn¡¯t check in to submit his report yesterday, and he didn¡¯t come in this morning. Kustov went to check on him at home, but he isn¡¯t there, either. We¡¯ve got a man missing. We¡¯re going to trace his route yesterday and see if we can figure out what happened.¡±


    Fiora, the only woman among the Underkeepers, frowned at that, long lines creasing her weathered face. ¡°Did you get the guards involved? This sounds like something they¡¯re supposed to handle. Or at least know about.¡±


    Ed nodded to her in a way that made Bernt think he¡¯d expected this question.


    ¡°I already sent a runner to the guard. But it¡¯ll take them at least a few days to even start an investigation, never mind launching a search party.¡± Disgust practically dripped from his voice. ¡°Nobody up there is going to rush to crawl through the sewers looking for a missing muck mage, or anyone, for that matter. If he¡¯s alive and in trouble, then it¡¯s up to us to get him out.¡±


    Most of the Underkeepers had a complicated history with either the Mages¡¯ Guild, the nobility or the military¡ªa history that ultimately landed them in their current profession. As far as Bernt knew, he and Uriah were the only members of the order who had actually applied to be there on purpose.


    Ed, as far as he had been able to work out, had a very difficult relationship with the City Guard Commander. What an archmage might have done to a City Guard force that would get him exiled to the Underkeepers remained a mystery, though.


    This was bad. Mundane maintenance workers might sometimes fall prey to a mutant rat, a sewer crocodile, or a slime, but Underkeepers didn¡¯t just go missing. The sewers were their second home¡ªtheir smelly, cold and damp second home, but still. Nothing there seriously threatened them. Any individual mage should be more than enough to handle anything they ran across beneath the streets.


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    ¡°We¡¯re going to run a search in teams of two. When you find Dayle, or evidence of what happened to him, you¡¯re going to activate one of these.¡± Ed held up four runed pebbles, one for each team.


    ¡°Hey¡­ what are these?¡± asked Kustov, reaching out a hand for one. As a dwarf, he was almost as interested in rocks as he was in runecraft.


    ¡°They¡¯re beacons. Activate one, and all of the others will light up and gently pull toward it. Now, quit interrupting. We need to get out there.¡±


    ***


    Bernt trudged along behind Fiora as sewage slowly seeped through the seams of his not-quite-watertight boots. He listened to the dull thud of her short walking staff, her magical focus, as she used it to probe the disgusting waters ahead. He¡¯d forgotten just how awful it could be wading through the sludge for hours on end. With Jori¡¯s help, he rarely spent more than ten minutes at a time standing in the black water. Of course, he wasn¡¯t going to reveal her existence just to avoid a bit of work.


    Not that he was going to stake Dayle¡¯s survival on his own inaction, either. He owed the man for showing him the ropes and for bailing him out more than once when he got in over his head citing someone too important to penalize. Their profession involved more politics than a maintenance job had any right to.


    Jori ranged out ahead of them, rapidly checking every nook and cranny for signs of recent passage. Bernt reasoned that, if she found something, he could just pretend that he heard or saw something to lead them in the right direction.


    They were nearing the end of their assigned section when Fiora stopped so suddenly that Bernt bumped into her.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s got something,¡± she said, already pushing him back. ¡°Back up, let¡¯s climb out over here. It¡¯s pulling over to the right¡ªprobably Yarrod and Ed over in Smiths¡¯ Lane.¡±


    Hurrying back, Bernt scrambled up the wrought iron ladder set into the nearest shaft.


    Smiths¡¯ Lane was at the very edge of the upper city, up against the city walls. Blacksmiths were craftspeople of status and usually wealthy enough to make it out of the lower city, but the noise and smoky nature of their craft meant they couldn¡¯t set up shop next to a minor noble or wealthy merchant, either. As a result, they¡¯d carved out a small slice of the city for themselves to serve the steady stream of adventurers, citizens, and military quartermasters who came to them for tools, weapons, and building supplies.


    Going through the sewers would have required wading around for nearly ten minutes, but at street level, a quick shortcut through a nearby alley brought them close enough to hear the ringing of hammers. A minute later they were climbing back down another shaft to enter near the end of Ed and Yarrod¡¯s search area.


    Bernt knew immediately that something was wrong. As soon as they reached the base of the ladder, they could see light shining around the corner, which was¡­ not standard practice. Why bother?


    ¡°Yarrod? Ed?¡± Fiora called out. ¡°Did you find him?¡±


    ¡°Here!¡± came Ed¡¯s voice, a bit strained.


    As they rounded the corner, a new smell hit Bernt¡¯s nostrils, mixing with the already foul odor of the sewers. It was sour and metallic, and he could guess where it came from. Ed was propped awkwardly up against the wall, illuminated by a blinding ball of light that he¡¯d conjured¡ªa light cantrip, but a much better one than Bernt could manage himself. His boss was pinned to the stone wall by two metal spikes that had apparently shot out from the other side of the wall with incredible force, one going straight through his belly. A trap of some kind. Who was laying traps in the sewers of all places?


    While he was staring, Fiora moved. Whipping her black staff back and forth in a complex motion, she sent both spikes shooting out of the man to clatter against the far walls from which they came. Before Bernt could protest that Ed was only going to bleed out even faster now, she¡¯d already caught him and pulled out an expensive-looking vial, her staff clattering to the floor.


    ¡°Drink it, quick!¡±


    Belatedly, Bernt picked up her staff as Ed gulped it down. It was a healing potion¡ªa good one, too. Fiora must have been carrying it on the job as an emergency measure. He doubted she¡¯d be able to replace it anytime soon.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Bernt asked when, a moment later, Ed leaned back against the wall with a relieved groan.


    ¡°We got ambushed. They took Yarrod and came down this way. When I went after them, I got hit. Kobold bastards and their traps.¡±


    Fiora frowned. ¡°Shit. We need to go after them, right now. The others should be here soon. They¡¯re going to torture him first, but he¡¯ll be dead if we don¡¯t hurry.¡±


    Bernt looked back and forth between Fiora and Ed, puzzled.


    ¡°What do you mean? Why bother abducting him if they¡¯re just going to kill him? And there¡¯s no point in torturing him¡­ what could they possibly want to know from us?¡±


    Ed scowled and stood up, rather energetically for someone who¡¯d been impaled just moments before.


    ¡°Yarrod¡¯s a gnome, and they¡¯re kobolds,¡± he said, as if that explained everything. ¡°They don¡¯t need any other reason.¡±


    Pulling his pipe out of a pocket, Ed then began flourishing it in precise patterns, casting more balls of blinding light and sending them down the tunnels to illuminate the filthy sewers much more thoroughly than one ever should. Then he put the end in his mouth and pulled on it, apparently lighting it with a thought, as smoke began to rise.


    ¡°Kobolds don¡¯t like bright lights,¡± he said by way of explanation. ¡°Get down there and see if you can find where they came in. The sewers are supposed to be a closed system, but they¡¯ll have tunneled in somewhere under the walls.¡±


    Bernt was still staring at Ed¡¯s pipe. Was it a spellcasting focus, like a wand? Who would even make something like that?


    Dismissing the thought, Bernt sent a feeling of caution through his bond with Jori. He didn¡¯t want her getting too close, or running afoul of any kobolds herself. He wasn¡¯t sure how they would react to a demon¡ªhe hadn¡¯t studied the intelligent subterranean races much. After years of sewer work, he wasn¡¯t about to waste his adventuring career crawling around underground.


    Jori wasn¡¯t far. She slowed and he sensed her eyeing the walls suspiciously.

 5. Rescue

    The kobolds¡¯ breach wasn¡¯t hard to find once they went looking for it. Barely fifty yards away, around another bend, they found it¡ªa messy hole where the masonry had collapsed, leading into a low tunnel.


    Fiora raised a force barrier over it immediately to forestall any potential surprises. Then she called back to Ed, who arrived a moment later followed by the other four Underkeepers. Jori was now hiding just out of sight around a corner, which suited Bernt just fine.


    ¡°Alright, listen up. Fiora and myself in the front. We¡¯ll be maintaining a one-way force barrier. Kustov and Bernt on offense in the middle, and Sen watching the rear with Uriah. Go!¡±


    Without further preamble, Ed moved, nudging Fiora into the tunnel. It was a simple arrangement, and good tactics. Kustov was a geomancer, and between the two of them, they could crush or burn just about any threat so long as the others ensured that they couldn¡¯t be interrupted. As long as they did their jobs, anyway.


    Bernt hadn¡¯t actually killed people with a spell before, but this seemed like a bad time to bring it up. He¡¯d burnt out nests of rat men, and this was the same sort of thing, right? This was what pyromancers were for, and he needed to get used to it sooner or later.


    Thankfully, they emerged into a larger, more permanent tunnel after just a minute of scrambling through the low and narrow hole. As they looked around, finding their bearings, angry chittering echoed from the left. Without interrupting the shield spell he was channeling, Ed flung a sphere of conjured light in that direction, revealing an amethyst flash of scales. The source of the noise scrambled away, yipping in a strange language.


    ¡°That¡¯s contact!¡± called Ed as he advanced toward the sound, picking up the pace. ¡°Let¡¯s go, we don¡¯t want to get mobbed too badly.¡±


    The others followed, rushing down the tunnel. Fiora¡¯s force shield scraped the ground and the walls, triggering two traps in quick succession. Steel bolts shot across empty space, sinking into the walls ahead of them, before a spray of liquid fire erupted toward their faces. The liquid struck the shield and slid down to the ground, but its searing heat still radiated, forcing them to stop.


    ¡°Bernt!¡± Fiora¡¯s shouted.


    Right, this was his problem. He fumbled for his wand, pulled it out, and raised a hasty heat barrier in front of them before extending his will out through the focus. Controlling fire was simple. Easy, even. It was literally the first thing a pyromancer had to learn. It just felt hard, because everyone was counting on him to get it right now.


    Getting ahold of himself, he gathered the flames up, contained the heat, whirled it all into a cyclone, and blasted the whole mess out toward the enemy. Even if the kobolds were taking cover, the burning air would sear their lungs for a moment and buy them some time. It wasn¡¯t his finest work, but it would get the job done.


    ***


    Lilya had known for days now that they were going to die. When the kobolds dragged her family down into their cave, she had seen the bones piled haphazardly in one corner. They were too big for chickens or goats, and too small for beef.


    They¡¯d crammed her into a tiny cage with her husband and daughter, and just left them there. The first day she simply stared at the bones, thinking about how their own bones would be lying there soon, for someone else to stare at. Her daughter¡¯s bones.


    She wanted to scream, to cry¡ªanything. But she couldn¡¯t. She just felt numb. When she looked over at her husband, she saw a mirror of her own shocked, somehow dead expression staring back at her. Ria, their daughter, huddled behind the two of them, and sat staring at nothing. Still, they both did their best to block her view of what was happening.


    Now she stared in horror at the new sight before them. The kobold leader, some kind of sorcerer who dressed himself in lots of golden jewelry and gems, was running his claws through the long, fluffy beard of the robed gnome dangling upside down from the ceiling. They¡¯d driven a metal hook through his heel, hanging him by it like a slaughtered pig for butchering.


    They cackled as their victim hyperventilated.


    ¡°Oh. Oh my heavens. This¡­ this is unbecoming indeed,¡± he wheezed. ¡°Even for such low-minded creatures as yourselves¡­ to let your jealousy¡­ drive you to such¡­ barbarism.¡±


    The kobold sorcerer hissed menacingly, and where his claws touched, the gnome¡¯s beard caught fire, the flames licking along his face and up his robes. The little man screamed in pain and terror while another prisoner, a human who¡¯d been chained to the wall, yanked against his restraints, screaming at them.


    ¡°You cloaca-licking, dickless little lizard fucks! You better start prayin¡¯ to whatever big-daddy lizard you follow around. Do you have any idea how badly you done fucked up?¡±


    Lilya would have considered that kind of language unsettling in other circumstances. Ria tugged at her skirt and looked at her fearfully.


    ¡°Will the adventurers come soon?¡±


    She looked around the room as despair welled up inside her once again. The Adventurers¡¯ Guild rescued people sometimes, but they didn¡¯t just go looking for trouble willy-nilly. There had been no rumors of any kobolds in the area before they were caught. Worse, she hadn¡¯t seen anything worth looting, except maybe what that sorcerer was wearing.


    The Adventurers¡¯ Guild didn¡¯t pay wages and adventurers only received payment if whoever issued a quest decided to offer a reward. In practice, that meant adventurers tended to go where there was something to loot. Lilya couldn¡¯t share the angry man¡¯s apparent confidence that anyone would be coming.


    A few of the kobolds broke off from torturing the gnome to beat the man into silence. It took a solid minute, but eventually he slumped back against the wall and they turned back to the gnome. Lilya steeled herself as one drew a knife, as if to begin taking pieces off.


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    Just then, the side door burst open, followed by a thundering boom and a searing wind that heated the whole room in seconds.


    The kobold sorcerer yipped at the others, and two drew their weapons and ran into the tunnel. Less than ten seconds later, they came hurtling back as if thrown. One tumbled to the ground, but the other smacked into the far wall with a sickening crunch.


    Gray-robed figures poured into the room, the first one a wiry gray-haired woman who pounded the end of a short staff on the ground. A shockwave blasted from her, knocking over kobolds in a cone that spread out with a loud clap. Almost at the same time, a dwarf bent down right behind her and slammed his bare fist into the stone floor. Spikes of black obsidian erupted out of the ground in a line, impaling two of the falling kobolds and injuring the feet of a few others as they stumbled.


    The kobolds that hadn¡¯t been hit threw their spears and charged at the group, only for the projectiles to bounce off an invisible wall a moment before the kobolds themselves did. Yelps of surprise and hisses of pain filled the room as several of them fell, injuring themselves further on the glass jutting from the floor.


    The kobold sorcerer raised both hands and glared at the invaders as an otherworldly light began to glow around them. He bared his teeth in a snarl.


    Then, suddenly, he was gone. Lilya blinked, staring at the mid sized boulder that suddenly lay where the kobold sorcerer had just stood. Red blood trickled out from underneath.


    It was only when she felt little arms clutching her leg that Lilya realized Ria had moved and was watching. She jerked her hand down to cover the girl¡¯s eyes, but she wasn¡¯t looking at the crushed kobold¡ªshe was gazing at the newcomers with wide eyes.


    The gray-haired woman moved aside as a young man cloaked in a whirling cylinder of blinding light stepped to the front. A split second later, that light blasted out in a nova of incandescent flame that bathed the entire room in fire.


    For a moment, Lilya was sure they would all burn as the searing heat stung her face. But the flames didn¡¯t reach them. They billowed into another invisible wall, part of a dome that covered the entire corner containing the prisoners.


    As the fire dissipated, she watched as even more spells ripped through the remaining, now on fire, kobolds.


    They were mages. All of them.


    Only as silence claimed the room did she hear the low, wheezing chuckle coming from the chained man.


    ¡°I told you scaly shits.¡± He whisper-laughed. ¡°I warned you true. You¡­ you¡¯re gonna get it now.¡±


    Finally, the meaning of the mages¡¯ gray robes sank in. This wasn¡¯t the Adventurers¡¯ Guild.


    Didn¡¯t they usually do city maintenance?


    ***


    Bernt didn¡¯t know what Kustov used as a focus, but there was absolutely no way punching the ground was a necessary part of that fancy earth-spike spell. He was just being theatrical. It was also a vivid reminder of just what his colleagues were capable of.


    The fight had now moved on to the mop-up phase. Ed, Sen and Uriah picked off any survivors who wanted to keep fighting. As they did, perhaps five or six others picked themselves up and escaped out the far door into another tunnel, hissing and whimpering to each other. Bernt was still too frazzled from the strain of his fire nova spell to do anything about that, and the others weren¡¯t paying attention.


    When Bernt saw the prisoners in the corner, the gorge rose in his throat. While Yarrod couldn¡¯t have been in their custody for more than fifteen minutes, he looked much worse. The tiny man was stripped naked, had been suspended upside down from a hook, and looked horribly burned. Three other people were crammed into a single cage, and Dayle was chained to the wall with his fingers tied together awkwardly.


    Spellcasting didn¡¯t necessarily require incantations, rituals, specific motions, or the use of a focus, but all of those things helped. Casting spells without any kind of support for guiding mana was horrendously difficult and usually had unpredictable results. It looked like the kobolds had wanted to be double sure, though, judging by the lumps on Dayle¡¯s head.


    Ed and Fiora were already moving across the room, one lifting Yarrod with a levitation cantrip as the other pulled the hook out his leg. Once he was lying down, Ed pulled a standard-issue minor healing potion¡ªfar less potent than the one that Fiora had used on him¡ªfrom his belt and poured it down gnome¡¯s throat.


    Bernt doubted he would be back to normal anytime soon.


    While Fiora broke open the cage, Bernt tried to get the chains off of Dayle. He was terrible at force spells in general, but he could do a basic unlocking charm that most self-respecting locks in civilized places were enchanted against. Fortunately, that didn¡¯t include kobolds.


    ¡°Well, look at you, all pyromancing and shit,¡± Dayle rasped good-naturedly as Bernt unwound the ropes that trapped the man¡¯s fingers. Dayle¡¯s eyes wandered to Yarrod, his expression turning hollow. ¡°It was about time. I thought they were going to rip old Yarrod to shreds right in front of me. Poor little guy. He wouldn¡¯t hurt a fly, either. Didn¡¯t deserve that.¡±


    Handing Dayle another minor healing potion, Ed hunkered down in front of him, trying to get a look at his eyes.


    ¡°You alright? Everything still on?¡± he asked.


    Dayle downed the potion and handed back the empty vial. ¡°I didn¡¯t tell ¡®em anything, chief. Not that they asked, or that I¡¯d know anything some damn lizard would want to know anyhow. They were just keeping us out of the way here. Maybe they were saving us for a snack or something. I don¡¯t know, but I don¡¯t want to be here anymore. If they¡¯re feeling brave enough to wander around inside the walls, then there¡¯s at least a thousand more of them in the immediate area, and I don¡¯t really feel in shape to fight.¡±


    Ed nodded and helped him up. ¡°I reckon you¡¯re right. Let¡¯s go.¡± He looked up at Bernt. ¡°Bernt, you mind getting those people out of the cage?¡±


    After that, things happened fast. He got the others¡ªapparently a mother, father, and their daughter, maybe ten years old¡ªup and moving. They¡¯d been heading to market from their farm when the kobolds ambushed them on the road, probably to steal their supplies. As the father picked the girl up and carried her out of the room, doing his best to block her view of the bodies, the mother quickly stripped the valuables off the sorcerer¡¯s corpse. Bernt considered stopping her¡ªthat jewelry had to be worth quite a bit¡ªbut Ed gave him a little shake of his head and he left her alone.


    This place felt like it should be miles and miles away from civilization, but less than five minutes later they were ducking back into the rough tunnel that led underneath the city wall. When they moved to get everyone up and out of the sewer, Kustov stayed behind to seal the tunnel.


    It was just a delaying tactic, Kustov had explained, but the kobolds wouldn¡¯t be reopening that particular tunnel any time soon. If they were here for a reason, they¡¯d be tunneling in at a hundred other points, and if they weren¡¯t, then maybe they¡¯d just move on to avoid a war.


    Even Bernt, who didn¡¯t know much of anything about kobolds, found that unlikely. The Underkeepers just weren¡¯t that lucky. Besides, who would go around abducting and torturing people if they were hoping to never be discovered?


    Bernt didn¡¯t really know what they were supposed to do next, but apparently Ed did. He marched the entire group through the streets and past the headquarters of the City Guard, straight up toward the castle.

 6. Intro to Politics

    When the guard challenged them at the main palace gate, Ed drew himself up in a posture Bernt had never seen on the man and fixed him with an authoritative glare accompanied by his more customary scowl.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to alert the magistrate to a threat and to submit a formal report of a breach in the city¡¯s defenses by a hostile force to the count.¡±


    The guard nervously looked from Ed to the group standing behind him. ¡°Erm, any such reports should go through the captain of the gua¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, shut up,¡± Ed snarled. ¡°I¡¯m a godsdamned archmage. I can talk to the magistrate whenever I want. Moreover, city defense is within my purview as a senior city official. If your boss is too lazy or incompetent to do his job, I¡¯m required to intervene as needed. Either open the door, or I¡¯m going to open it for you.¡±


    ¡°Now, listen here!¡± the guard said, but Ed apparently wasn¡¯t planning to listen for even a moment. He really was an archmage, the head of any magical order had to be. That was true even for publicly funded organizations like the Underkeepers, which was so low-rent it wasn¡¯t even affiliated with the Mages¡¯ Guild.


    Regardless, this was the first time that Bernt saw what Ed¡¯s title actually meant. Without him moving a muscle or drawing a wand¡ªor his pipe¡ªthe massive barred doors to the palace began to swing open, groaning and cracking as the heavy iron hooks that held the bar in place were torn free. He was casting a ridiculously powerful spell entirely with his mind. Two spells, actually, as the guard tried to step forward to stop him and found that he couldn¡¯t. Instead, he lost his balance and hit the dirt. His foot was stuck to the ground, glued down with a basic adhesion cantrip.


    Ed didn¡¯t even look like he was concentrating hard.


    They walked in to find guards scrambling toward them, and while the other Underkeepers seemed calm, Bernt was starting to get worried. The three former prisoners looked terrified.


    As the guards advanced toward the group, they slowed down. Then a few stumbled, a few fell, and others began vomiting violently. None reached them as they advanced through the courtyard.


    When the next set of doors opened, someone stepped out of a side door to block their way. It was a severe-looking woman in ornate robes who Bernt immediately recognized¡ªshe¡¯d given a speech at his graduation ceremony from the Mages¡¯ Academy. It was Archmage Iriala, the count¡¯s own court mage.


    They were so, so screwed.


    But she didn¡¯t shout or start casting spells to evaporate them all where they stood. She just raised a single, impeccably groomed gray eyebrow at them.


    ¡°Archmage Thurdred, what are you doing?¡± she asked.


    Bernt wasn¡¯t being addressed, but he felt the urge to apologize and back away. Ed, apparently, didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Hey Iri, nice to see you.¡± he said, wearing what passed for a friendly expression for those who knew him¡ªit was still a scowl. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, alright? It¡¯s another one of those ¡®changelings taking over the docks¡¯ type of situations, except it¡¯s kobolds and sewers this time.¡±


    Archmage Iriala relaxed, frowning thoughtfully. ¡°Again? Ugh. How hard is it to find a competent guard commander?¡±


    Fiora rolled her eyes. ¡°Guard commanders are always somebody¡¯s nephew or brother or something. If you can¡¯t work around them, you go through them, right?¡±


    Iriala stared at her. ¡°What? No, of course not! Don¡¯t you people have any sense of subtlety or tact at all?¡±


    While Bernt and the others shifted uncomfortably, Ed, Fiora, and Dayle just stared back blankly.


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    The archmage sighed, throwing up her hands. ¡°Right, of course you don¡¯t. That¡¯s how you three got dumped into the Underkeepers in the first place.¡±


    Ed grinned at her. ¡°Thanks, Iri.¡±


    She stepped aside and gestured them through to the door behind her, sighing.


    ¡°Just don¡¯t say anything stupid to the magistrate. I¡¯m not letting you anywhere near the count. You¡¯ll get yourself executed!¡±


    Moments later, Bernt found himself herded into a large waiting area with a desk at one end. The magistrate¡¯s secretary was a young man who clearly had no idea what he was supposed to do with a crowd of malodorous mages dripping sludge all over the floor, but Archmage Iriala came to his rescue.


    ¡°Tomas, take Archmage Thurdred in to see the magistrate, please. I¡¯ll keep the rest here. He¡¯ll probably want to have them all interviewed later, so you should send a note over to the Adventurers¡¯ Guild to arrange a special investigator.¡±


    Tomas looked at her, puzzled.


    ¡°Not the guard commander, archmage?¡±


    Iriala snorted. ¡°I doubt it. He¡¯ll probably need to be interviewed as well.¡±


    Even as she said it, a corpulent man in a generously cut guard uniform pushed into the room. He had three stripes on his shoulders, which marked him as the City Guard commander.


    ¡°Halt! Stop! You¡¯re all under arrest!¡± he panted. ¡°For assaulting officers of the peace, destroying palace property and insulting the king¡¯s appointed representative!¡±


    Tomas looked between the guard commander and Iriala as if asking for help.


    Ed broke the stalemate by opening the far door and stepping into the magistrate¡¯s office. Tomas scrambled to catch up as an authoritative voice rang out from inside.


    ¡°Archmage, what is the meaning of this? And what¡¯s so urgent that you had to track that filth onto my carpet? Is that blood on your robes?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ve attacked the palace!¡± shouted the guard commander just before Iriala put a hand on his shoulder. He stopped and looked at her, suddenly very nervous.


    ¡°Commander Righmond,¡± she said calmly, ¡°I don¡¯t think this is the best time to throw accusations around, especially at someone who has, apparently, been doing your job. And not for the first time, if memory serves.¡±


    ¡°Lord magistrate,¡± came Ed¡¯s voice. ¡°I¡¯m here to report an incursion. We had, and probably still have, kobolds inside the walls. They¡¯ve been abducting citizens for at least a few days, including two of my mages, one of whom nearly died in the process. I took a bolt through the stomach conducting a search, and we extracted the prisoners just a few minutes ago.¡±


    ¡°Kobolds?¡± The magistrate groaned. Then, more loudly, he called out through the open door. ¡°Righmond, get in here!¡±


    As the commander hurried into the office, the magistrate went on.


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t raise the alarm with the guard commander¡­ why? Why did you even run a search and rescue on your own? You could have been killed, and you wouldn¡¯t have even been able to make this report!¡± the magistrate cried. ¡°We have procedures for a reason!¡±


    ¡°Because I already reported my first missing mage last night, and these three here were captured nearly a week ago,¡± Ed explained reasonably. ¡°Turns out procedures don¡¯t get you very far when your City Guard doesn¡¯t take the city¡¯s security seriously. It¡¯s like that damn thing with the changelings all over again!¡±


    ¡°Look here!¡± Commander Righmond hissed, but then Tomas finally closed the door, reducing the ensuing discussion to a dull murmur.


    Bernt looked around, catching Dayle¡¯s eye.


    ¡°What¡¯s going to happen now?¡± he asked.


    ¡°To us?¡± Dayle shrugged. ¡°They¡¯re going to want to interview us individually about what we saw below. They¡¯ll want to assess the threat, try to figure out what¡¯s coming our way. Righmond, though? That guy is screwed.¡± He looked over at Iriala. ¡°They can¡¯t overlook this, right?¡±


    ¡°They might. He¡¯s married to the King¡¯s second cousin, after all.¡±


    Fiora raised her eyebrows at Dayle in an exaggerated ¡°I told you so,¡± but Iriala went on.


    ¡°They won¡¯t be able to do much to Ed, but the old bastard should still be more careful. Being in the right isn¡¯t enough. Just because the count isn¡¯t going to hang him doesn¡¯t mean the guard and Righmond¡¯s relatives won¡¯t find other ways to make his¡ªand your¡ªlives miserable. Now, all of you stay here. I have to go do damage control with Count Narald. I can¡¯t have Ed¡¯s stupid feud with Righmond associated with the Mages¡¯ Guild. Tomas will have someone along to take your statements soon.¡±


    With a shrug, Dayle settled into a chair and rubbed at his wrists, where the bruises were only now starting to fade. Minor healing potions really were garbage.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be a while,¡± he said, gesturing to the others. ¡°Might as well get comfortable. One of you mind doing a cleaning cantrip on everybody¡¯s clothes and the carpets here? I don¡¯t have my staff and it reeks in here.¡±

 7. Unto the Breach

    It was evening by the time Bernt was finally allowed to go home. Jori had been well out of the useful range of their familiar bond, but he felt her approach as he made his way down toward the docks. Stomach growling, he made a minor detour to stop by a rickety food cart.


    The vendor, Cal, used to sneak him day-old loaves in his orphanage days. Back then, Cal had been helping his aging father work the cart. Now that he was running it on his own, Bernt liked to return the favor by giving the cart his business whenever he was in the neighborhood¡ªwhich was pretty much all the time. Not that Cal needed it¡ªhis cart was always busy.


    ¡°Evening, Bernt.¡± he greeted cheerfully. ¡°I¡¯ve got just the thing for you! I developed a new, extra-spicy cabbage pickling recipe! You won¡¯t need a wand to start fires anymore!¡±


    ¡°Three, please,¡± Bernt said, handing him a palmful copper pieces.


    Cal made the money disappear instantly with a practice motion and quickly stuffed three small loaves of bread with deliciously spiced mystery meat and pickled cabbage, handed him the order with a friendly wave, and turned to his next customer. Bernt didn¡¯t realize till he rounded the block that he was holding an extra, unfilled loaf¡ªa day-old. He snorted, and started in on that one first as he walked.


    The questions had gone on and on. The investigators separated all of them and asked them about everything¡ªwhere the now-sealed breach was, how many kobolds there were and what exactly they looked like, what kinds of injuries the prisoners had, how the bolts that they used for traps looked and even which spells the Underkeepers used to fight them. Especially the spells, in fact. The investigator, some Adventurers¡¯ Guild bureaucrat who Bernt had never heard of, seemed first doubtful and then surprised that the Underkeepers were actually competent in basic mage formations and combat spells. Bernt thought that was more than a little condescending.


    After an hour of painstaking explanation, the man then started over from the beginning, checking to make sure that he wasn¡¯t leaving anything out. When he finally thought they were done, though, he launched into a new set of questions about the tunnel architecture, how the roof in the kobolds¡¯ chamber was supported and how well finished the walls and floor were.


    Bernt had done his best to cooperate. They¡¯d made it clear they were trying to understand the kobold threat, not interrogate him for any kind of crime, but it still felt like he¡¯d done something wrong.


    When he¡¯d left, he didn¡¯t see any sign of the others. Either they were already done, or they were being questioned somewhere else. Honestly, Bernt couldn¡¯t imagine Fiora or Kustov allowing anyone to pester them with annoying questions that long, and the family of farmers was probably too traumatized for this kind of treatment. So, maybe he really had held out the longest.


    He wolfed the food down as he walked, saving just the bottom few bites of one loaf. This he tossed at a sewer grate, where Jori was now shadowing him. Her tiny, leathery hand reached up through the bars to snatch it out of the air. Jori loved pickled cabbage.


    Bernt stopped, staring at his hands. They were still shaking a bit. He couldn¡¯t get the memory of Ed¡¯s impaled form out of his head, and the eye-watering smell of blood, shit, and burnt kobold still tickled as if it were lingering in his nose.


    For the first time, Bernt really took note of all the guards walking around him. They were all over the upper city, patrolling, guarding government buildings and gates, and policing public spaces. He¡¯d never considered that they should be keeping track of the sewers¡ªbut the sewers were technically a military vulnerability for the city. Not to mention the criminals who occasionally tried to set up shop down there.


    There was no reason why one of the many races of the deep places in the earth couldn¡¯t simply break into the city from below. As things stood now, it would be child¡¯s play. They were, in fact, probably very lucky that it was kobolds that had broken through, rather than dark elves or a horde of goblins or whatever else lived down there.


    Maybe being an Underkeeper was a lot more dangerous than he¡¯d thought.


    ***


    As it turned out, the guard was supposed to run patrols down in the sewers¡ªthey just didn¡¯t do so. Why get their feet wet when there were already a bunch of mages and workers wandering around down there? They¡¯d see it if something came up, right?


    Apparently, the magistrate didn¡¯t agree. Bernt showed up to work the next day as he always did, and Ed handed him paperwork for his duties that day, as usual. What wasn¡¯t so usual was what he saw through Jori¡¯s eyes when he walked toward his first stop. Near the city walls, pairs of guards patrolled the sewers, forcing Jori to go around, and to hide in cracks as they passed. The snatches of conversation that he caught through the interference of the bond were invariably filled with venom directed at the damned Underkeepers who had apparently forced this hideous assignment upon them.


    Whatever Iriala said, Bernt was fairly certain that Ed did know how to play politics. He clearly had a grudge against Commander Righmond, and pushing the issue now, when the threat was real, had produced results that a simple complaint a week ago could not have. He¡¯d probably been waiting for the right time to bring it up for years.


    Bernt avoided the patrolling guards for the next few hours, which was easy, since Jori could find them without being detected. After that, he had to see to a few house calls, which were mostly mundane plumbing issues, except for a noise complaint below the Rusted Boar Inn. When he pried open the sealed sub-basement underneath the Inn¡¯s wine cellar, he found himself looking down into a nicely furnished living room and a very chagrined family of dwarven squatters who had been playing a board game.


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    Supposedly, they thought the room belonged to a demolished and buried house that someone else had built over, making it no one¡¯s property and free for occupation. Right. Deciding this wasn¡¯t his problem, Bernt suggested to the innkeeper that he negotiate a rental agreement with them and left.


    ***


    He was heading back toward the office, pushing his way through crowds of tired workers pouring out of the Crafters¡¯ District at the end of the workday, when he heard the horns. An alarm was sounding near the eastern wall. Guards rushed past, pushing through the crowds with urgency.


    He knew the signal¡ªwall breach. Mages were required to integrate into the realm¡¯s military at need, so military communications were part of the required curriculum at the Mages¡¯ Academy.


    The breach wasn¡¯t that close to where the kobold tunnel had been¡­ but it was along the same wall¡­ Cautioning Jori to stay well behind and out of sight through their bond, Bernt followed behind the guards, drawing his pyromancer¡¯s wand. He wasn¡¯t technically required to respond to this signal if he wasn¡¯t formally drafted first, but could be a real opportunity. As he¡¯d recently learned first hand, he could fight. And if the rest of the city saw what the Underkeepers were really capable of, maybe they would adjust their attitudes toward them. Plus, he might learn something. Adventurers should run toward trouble, not away from it, right? He heard thunder in the distance, followed by the rumble of a collapsing building. Then screams began to fill the street as dust rose and the crowd realized that something was seriously wrong. They were starting to stampede.


    Thinking quickly, Bernt ducked into an alley. From there, he crossed over to a smaller residential street¡ªit was nearly empty, but also a dead end. That didn¡¯t matter. A few seconds later, he reached his goal: a sewer access shaft.


    Skipping the ladder, he splashed directly down into the sludge and hurried through a small access tunnel back toward the main that led to the wall.


    Turning a corner just moments later, he ran into his first kobold, literally. Being significantly larger, he bowled the little creature over, which likely saved his life. The scaled monster jumped up almost instantly and dove at him, claws flashing. By that time, though, Bernt had already raised a basic force shield.


    He wasn¡¯t very good with force spells, so he only had a few seconds. Whipping his wand over the top of the shield in panic, he pushed mana into it without guiding or shaping it in any way. Fire gushed out, filling the tunnel in front of him with a dull roar, followed by a squeal of pain.


    When he stopped and the shield dropped, the kobold was shrieking, trying to put its clothes out. It had been a terrible spell, and horribly inefficient. Even a weak fireball would have done more damage, and required him to channel less mana besides. He¡¯d practiced his pyromancy spells daily for years, but when he really needed to use one, he¡¯d choked.


    Disgusted with himself, he wove mana into a fire dart, a more compact version of a fireball that was safer to use in enclosed spaces¡ªhe didn¡¯t want to raise the temperature down here any further. As he cast it, his shield dropped, having run out of power.


    The kobold snarled and sprang up at him, taking the spell on its leg. Sharp claws dug into his right shoulder, and something sharp sliced down his neck and back. Bernt reeled, grabbed the little monster and flung it away. It struck the wall hard and fell down, dazed, still limply holding a knife in its right hand.


    Since when had it had a weapon?


    Before it could recover, he advanced on it, kicking it in the stomach, then the head. It squawked and then gurgled, no longer fighting back. Bernt put another fire dart through the top of its head and it went still.


    His back felt like it was on fire. Hot blood trickled down, wetting his robes. He needed to get moving. Had to see what was going on at the wall.


    But then Jori arrived. He hadn¡¯t noticed, but she¡¯d started coming for him the moment the fight started. Flashing past him with an enraged chitter, she sank her sharp needle teeth into the fresh corpse¡¯s neck, easily piercing the soft scales there.


    He tried to calm her down through the bond, but it didn¡¯t work. She released the kobold¡¯s neck only to scratch at its dead eyes as she chittered and hissed vitriolic imp curses. As she hopped onto its head, jumping up and down on its skull, Bernt saw that her eyes were glowing a demonic red. Then, as if she¡¯d caught a surprising scent, she suddenly stopped and cocked her head.


    Huh. That had never happened before.


    That was when it got truly weird. Hissing loudly, Jori drove her clawed hand down onto the body¡¯s chest. Her tiny claws didn¡¯t penetrate the much tougher scales there, but the kobold jerked violently as if it were being stabbed¡ªuh, as if it were alive and being stabbed. But it wasn¡¯t. Bernt was sure.


    Pretty sure, anyway.


    Then a thin wisp of silver mist, lit by its own unearthly glow, rose out of the creature¡¯s mouth and just hung in the air.


    Before he could examine it more closely, Jori grabbed it and pulled it to her mouth, slurping it down like a physical object.


    Bernt gaped. What in all the hells was that? As far as he could tell up until now, Jori had absolutely no magical abilities¡ªa rarity for imps and one of the reasons he could afford to cast a familiar bond on her. It was a simple bonding spell, the type used for animal familiars. That meant there was no dark pact involved, and no risk of being branded as a warlock. On the other hand, there was a reason people normally bound demons with a proper demonic pact. It didn¡¯t just give a warlock access to the demon¡¯s infernal magics; it also gave them far more control of the bound demon.


    If Jori had powers he didn¡¯t know about, was the regular familiar bond even enough to keep her on a leash? Demons weren¡¯t exactly known for their pro-social natures.


    What other secrets might she be keeping?


    Jori looked up at him, eyes wide, then back at the dead kobold. The red glow was fading now, and he sensed confusion from her. No, she wasn¡¯t keeping secrets. He doubted she was even intelligent enough to do so, really.


    Not yet, anyway.


    They needed to get out of here. He was bleeding, and his back hurt like hell every time he tried to move his arms now that the adrenaline was wearing off. That damn thing had gashed him right down his back.


    He shuddered at the thought. If it hadn¡¯t had such terrible aim, it might have sunk that knife right into his neck. Bernt had almost been killed by a single kobold with a knife. How humiliating.


    He¡¯d been wrong. Setting a room full of kobolds on fire as part of a team was not the same thing as fighting something right to its face. If he was really going to become an adventurer, he needed to learn how to fight properly. Otherwise, his career would be painfully short.

 8. A Wasted Trip

    While Jori found a safe place to hunker down in the sewers, Bernt made his way back to the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters. It was slow going¡ªpeople were in such a hurry to get away from the attack, they ended up causing traffic jams that were nearly impossible to circumvent.


    When he arrived, he found the place empty. Ed, who should have been manning the office at this time, was nowhere to be found.


    Bernt sighed, sinking down onto a chair to wait. The healing potions were in Ed¡¯s supply closet, which was locked. Good thing it wasn¡¯t too serious. Still, the wound stung terribly.


    He wasn¡¯t sure how long he¡¯d been sitting there when the door burst open, startling him.


    Fiora strode in, looking around wildly.


    ¡°Is Ed here? What the hells is going on out there?¡±


    Bernt looked at her blankly, mind working to catch up. If Fiora had been on the other side of the city, she might not have heard the alarm. Especially if she was in the sewers at the time.


    ¡°It¡¯s a wall breach,¡± he explained. ¡°Ed¡¯s not here.¡± Awkwardly, he gestured at his back and his blood-crusted robes. ¡°I ran into a kobold in the sewer. I¡­ it got me with a knife.¡±


    Fiora stepped closer, examining the wound. ¡°Did it get the drop on you? How did it even get you that high up? And why didn¡¯t you take a potion? This is what they¡¯re for!¡±


    ¡°The supply closet is locked. I have to wait for him to get back.¡± Bernt was trying very hard not to sound whiny, but failing. It hurt a lot.


    Fiora snorted a laugh, then stared at him. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious¡­¡±


    She grabbed her staff. ¡°Wait a second.¡± She clucked at him and disappeared into Ed¡¯s office. The sharp crack of breaking metal rang out, and then she came back holding a handful of small, cherry-red bottles, one of which she handed to him. The rest went into slots on her belt and a bag that hung from her shoulder.


    ¡°You¡¯re an Underkeeper, and this is an emergency. A basic padlock like that is meant to keep out random sticky-fingered visitors, so they¡¯re here when we need them¡ªwhich is right now. Also, it costs barely two silver to replace. Ed might take it out of your pay, but he probably won¡¯t bother.¡±


    Feeling more than a little sheepish, Bernt drank. The pain lessened immediately, but the low-budget healing potion would take hours to properly heal the damage.


    ¡°Now,¡± Fiora went on. ¡°Where is the breach, exactly?¡±


    Bernt shook his head. ¡°I never reached it. It¡¯s at the eastern wall, a bit north of the gate, I think.¡±


    ¡°Good enough. Stay here. You don¡¯t want to get into a fight while injured if you can help it.¡±


    A moment later, the door slammed and he was alone.


    He looked around the room. Now what?


    ***


    In the end, Bernt decided to ignore Fiora and head back toward the breach. His injury didn¡¯t hurt much anymore, even if it was still an inconvenience. More importantly, he wasn¡¯t about to sit around and wait for things to happen around him.


    Still, he didn¡¯t have to be stupid about it. Drawing his wand, he followed behind a contingent of guards who were hurrying down the now nearly deserted streets. If an attack was coming, he¡¯d have a nice buffer between himself and the enemy¡ªand plenty of time to cast.


    A few minutes later, his wound began to sting again, but he was committed. He would at least see how bad the breach was. If it was well in hand, he could always go home. But if it was bad, every mage might matter. He could make a difference. Besides, an adventurer wouldn¡¯t turn their back on a situation like that, and he damned well wanted to be an adventurer.


    In the end, it didn¡¯t matter. By the time they arrived, the battle was over. Bodies littered the streets¡ªmostly kobolds, but also humans, dwarves, a few half-elves, and a single orc in a guard¡¯s uniform. Guards, mages, and a handful of people who looked like adventurers were arranged in a semicircle around a ragged hole where the street had collapsed just inside the walls. Ed and Fiora were both among them, but he couldn¡¯t see any of the other Underkeepers.


    As Bernt watched, the mages rained fire, stone, ice, and screaming shadows into the hole.


    Not just mages, then, he thought. There was a warlock present.


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    A moment later, the adventurers jumped in, followed by the guards. There were a few shrill screams, but no further sounds of fighting. Seconds later, all was quiet and people began to emerge from the hole again.


    Looking around, Bernt wondered what they would do now. What was supposed to happen at the end of a battle? He¡¯d never really thought about it. Should they cheer? That certainly didn¡¯t feel appropriate.


    The guards he¡¯d followed continued advancing on the carnage. An officer who had remained at the lip of the hole flashed them a signal and they stopped. They began checking all of the bodies, looking for survivors and administering potions. Every once in a while, they would draw a weapon to finish off a kobold.


    Bernt hadn¡¯t brought any other potions, so there wasn¡¯t much he could do here. Berating himself for the oversight, he joined Ed and Fiora, who were now sitting down and resting against the city wall.


    ¡°I thought I told you to stay put,¡± Fiora said.


    Bernt shrugged. It seemed stupid now to say that he came to help. They¡¯d had it in hand.


    ¡°What happened?¡± he asked, hoping they¡¯d drop it.


    ¡°The kobolds tunneled under the wall and into the sewer,¡± Ed said tiredly, ¡°probably just trying to create another access point, like they had before. I doubt they were actually planning to attack right now, or there would have been more of them.¡± He frowned thoughtfully, then shrugged. ¡°Anyway, they must have damaged something important, because the road collapsed. The wall¡¯s damaged too.¡±


    He was right. There were long cracks through the mortar running all the way up the wall. It might not fall over right away, but Bernt couldn¡¯t imagine it standing up to any kind of siege magic. They would have to tear down the entire section, rebuild it and layer fresh enchantments over it. Not that it mattered right now.


    It was over. It was a relief on the one hand, but on the other¡­ coming out here had been pointless. And the wound in his back was bleeding again. He sighed.


    ¡°Fiora, do you have another one of those potions on you?¡±


    ***


    ¡°Bernt!¡±


    Bernt stopped, sighing quietly. The door to his room was just three steps away. He¡¯d almost made it.


    He turned around, pasting a professionally polite expression on his face for Rina, his landlady. The woman frowned at him from the other end of the hallway, deep lines creasing her prematurely aged face. While the small apartments were almost cozy, the hallway had a certain prisonlike quality¡ªdark, stark, and grimy in a way that suggested it was swept but never, ever properly cleaned.


    ¡°How can I help you, ma¡¯am?¡± His shoulder still ached and he felt exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to get inside and lick his wounds until morning. He knew Jori was already waiting at the window to do the same.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting complaints about the smell again,¡± Rina said, drawing herself up. ¡°You¡¯re not an alchemist, and there isn¡¯t a long list of other reasons why people would be smelling sulfur when they walk by your door.¡±


    Bernt sniffed at the air, and then frowned right back at her. ¡°I¡¯m not a warlock. It smells like I need to throw out some eggs. Why does everybody think that just because I¡¯m a mage, everything has to have a magical cause?¡±


    She shook a finger at him. ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot, boy! And I¡¯m not going to warn you again! Next time, I¡¯ll just change the lock.¡±


    With that, she disappeared back around the corner.


    Bernt cursed under his breath. He didn¡¯t want to move. Everywhere else was more expensive, and he actually liked it here. The neighbors didn¡¯t come around asking questions¡ªthough apparently they did file complaints.


    Letting himself in, he first opened the window for Jori, then moved over to the dark corner back behind the stove.


    The smell really wasn¡¯t that strong, but it was noticeable. Grabbing a trowel, he then began sifting through the box of sand and extracting the little black lumps, depositing them in a glass jar he kept for that purpose.


    When he was done, he cast a basic water manipulation cantrip, drawing the moisture out and sending it through the open window to splash onto the small strip of grass outside. He would have to remember to clean the litter box more often to make sure that whatever busybody neighbor had complained didn¡¯t notice anything in the future.


    He certainly wasn¡¯t going to make Jori relieve herself in the sewers. Demons didn¡¯t produce a lot of waste, but what came out made for incredible fuel when dried. Blacksmiths used it in their forges when they could get their hands on it. It would be a great way to make some extra money. Unfortunately, Bernt had no good explanation for why he would have any, so he just used it to save on firewood in the winter.


    He sealed the jar and put it back in its place, washed his hands in the basin, and started collecting ingredients for dinner¡ªpotatoes, an onion, a half-wilted bundle of greens and some eggs.


    He was slicing the onion when Jori climbed out of the freshly cleaned litter box and began chittering at him.


    Bernt didn¡¯t understand her vocalizations, but he could get some of her meaning through their bond. She was trying to tell him about what happened in the tunnels with that kobold. The scaly rat-thing was bad. It had hurt Bernt, and that was wrong. Its blood tasted good, and it deserved worse.


    Bernt looked at her curiously. That was probably the most abstract thing she had ever communicated to him.


    ¡°What did you do to it?¡± he asked.


    She hissed, showing her teeth, and then clicked them together. The scaly rat-thing deserved punishment. It was food.


    Bernt frowned. She hadn¡¯t eaten the kobold itself. What she¡¯d done, he¡¯d never seen before, of course, but he could guess. Demons famously fed on souls, after all.


    But what did that mean for an imp? And why now? How much of the soul would be left in a corpse?


    He considered trying to ask her, but she was done with the conversation. The little demon scampered up his robes and perched on his shoulder like a bird. It was over now, and she was hungry.


    Handing her a bit of spicy dried rat meat, he got back to work on his own dinner.

 9. A New Dungeon

    Bernt arrived at work the next morning to find Dayle manning Ed¡¯s office. To Dayle, that meant sitting in Ed¡¯s chair and using a spell to spin a rock around in a circle as quickly as he could¡ªhe wasn¡¯t much of an administrator. When he saw Bernt, he released the spell, which sent the rock flying into the wall with a loud bang.


    ¡°Bernt! Did y¡¯hear? It¡¯s a deep dragon. A young ¡®un, most likely, but there¡¯s a den less than a mile away if you don¡¯t count the depth. Not sure how far down it¡¯s going to be. The scryers done found it last night when they went to scope out that new kobold tunnel for the count. The Adventurers¡¯ Guild is working on getting the quests issued right now. In the meantime, the city has to secure the new dungeon entrance and guard it. And the count wants us to do that along with the City Guard!¡±


    Great. Just perfect. Bernt sighed. ¡°Alright¡­ but why? Doesn¡¯t the Mages¡¯ Guild usually do that?¡±


    ¡°Normally, yeah. But they have to pay the Mages¡¯ Guild. Apparently there¡¯s also something with the contract about where guild mages are and aren¡¯t allowed to operate. The sewers are considered city infrastructure, which is protected. They don¡¯t automatically get the assignment; the count has to sign off on it. The thing is, Halfbridge happens to have its own corps of nonguild mages who are directly employed by the government.¡±


    Bernt frowned. ¡°What?¡±


    Dayle sighed, gesturing at the room around them. ¡°It¡¯s simple, son. The count doesn¡¯t have to pay us a single rusty copper that he isn¡¯t already paying us, and the guild can¡¯t make a legal claim to the job.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Iriala is going to be pissed. Dungeon security is a big revenue stream for them.¡±


    Bernt didn¡¯t think it was funny. The Underkeepers weren¡¯t prestigious, but usually nobody bothered them, either. If the guard commander had a grudge against their organization now, and they were costing the Mages¡¯ Guild money as well, that could change.


    ¡°Who¡¯s going to take care of sewer maintenance if we¡¯re handling dungeon security? And won¡¯t the Mages¡¯ Guild make trouble for us, regardless of what¡¯s in their government contract?¡±


    Dayle snorted. ¡°Oh, relax. Iriala knows we¡¯re getting screwed even harder than they are. We¡¯re not getting anything for this and she knows it. And of course, we have to keep up with the regular work as well. Technically, anyway. We¡¯re cutting all the basic work and just handling complaints and escalations from the maintenance office for the time being. Assignments are going to be distributed on a first come, first served basis.¡±


    He grinned. ¡°Wanna guess what you¡¯re going to be doing?¡±


    Bernt sighed. He really needed to start getting up earlier.


    ***


    True to his word, Dayle put Bernt to work settling every plumbing issue in the city. Well, not every plumbing issue, but all those that had been flagged for the Underkeepers¡ªproblems that might be dangerous or magical in nature, or that were simply impractical for a regular maintenance worker to handle.


    Unfortunately, what was impractical for a regular worker wasn¡¯t necessarily easy for a mage to handle either. When he met one at his first site that morning, he knew it was going to be trouble.


    The older woman, Kai, didn¡¯t like calling for help, and she didn¡¯t like magic or magical solutions in general. She subscribed to the idea that since so many of the city¡¯s maintenance problems were caused by magic, mages in general couldn¡¯t be trusted to fix them. She always projected the utmost sincerity when she spoke, but like all the Underkeepers, Bernt knew not to take her at face value.


    Meaning the smile she wore when she explained the problem did nothing to reassure Bernt.


    ¡°So, you¡¯ve got a broken drainpipe,¡± Bernt said flatly. ¡°And you want me to go in there and fix it.¡± He inhaled. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just replace it like normal?¡±


    Kai¡¯s expression turned earnestly regretful and she gestured to the building in question. ¡°Well, you know how it is. It¡¯s a temple! We can¡¯t just go breaking things. Who knows what might happen? It¡¯s not respectful, you know? And floors, those are things too! It¡¯s much too dangerous for the likes of us.¡±


    The broken drainpipe was in a consecrated temple of Garrus, and damaging temples for any reason was incredibly dangerous. Depending on the temperament of the relevant god, even a moment of carelessness could call down their divine displeasure¡ªeven if the one who damaged the sanctuary floor was the same one trying to stop the vile seepage coming up through said floor.


    Bernt sighed and went in without saying goodbye. He thought he could hear Kai humming cheerfully as she took her leave.


    As he worked, he felt the eyes of the god¡¯s statue bore into his back. Garrus took the shape of a massive six-legged bear with an insect¡¯s wings. Instead of a tail, he sported a long, nasty-looking stinger.


    Bernt shuddered. He spent far too much time wandering around outdoors to piss off this particular deity, no matter that he was considered minor.


    By the time his lunch break rolled around, he had cobbled together a modified force spell to scrape the interior of the ancient clay pipe and remove any stray shards. Then he placed a small force barrier at the bottom of the break and dropped a narrow cylinder of wet clay down the pipe. A simple earth-shaping spell later, the basic shape of the pipe was restored. Then he had to wet the entire thing, run the force spell over it a few times to ensure it was sealed properly, and¡ªvery carefully¡ªheat the entire pipe by pushing superheated air through with an annoyingly difficult pyromancy/aeromancy spell he cobbled together on the fly. He had to stop every few seconds to slowly pull the heat out of the surrounding floor with another pyromancy spell for fear of cracking the tiles.


    He was sure there was a simpler way to do this, but it wasn¡¯t as though he had access to the guild library. It wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d had to get creative to solve a problem on the job. Besides, it was working! A warm sense of satisfaction grew in his chest. Maybe he should put all his spells and procedures together in a book and try to sell it to the guild. Bernt¡¯s Sewerage Solutions, by Underkeeper Bernard!


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    ¡°Hey, Bernt!¡± a familiar voice called as he finally stepped out of the building. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you found religion.¡±


    Bernt looked up, surprised. The tall young man was striding toward him, followed by a female dwarf wearing some kind of priest¡¯s raiment. A dwarven god¡¯s, probably¡ªhe didn¡¯t know anything about dwarven religions.


    ¡°Therion? Wha¡ª¡±


    ¡°And why Garrus?¡± he continued, not waiting for Bernt to finish. ¡°What could you possibly get from worshiping a god of pollinators and beekeepers? I mean, really?¡±


    Bernt gave Therion an unamused glare. Like most mages, Bernt didn¡¯t put much stock in the gods, except maybe Aedina, the goddess of knowledge¡ªand she didn¡¯t actually require any open worship. She simply blessed those who shared in her pursuit of greater understanding.


    ¡°You damned well know I¡¯m working, Therion. What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°We dropped by the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters and that old guy there told us you¡¯d probably be working here for most of the day. He seemed to think it was pretty funny, too.¡±


    Of course he did. Godsdamned Dayle.


    ¡°Wait, you were looking for me?¡± Bernt said. ¡°Why?¡±


    The two exchanged a glance.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure you know about that new dungeon that just got declared, and we heard that you guys¡ªthe Underkeepers, I mean¡ªwere going to be running security on the entrance¡­¡±


    Bernt sighed.


    Dungeons always had at least one main quest that defined their difficulty rankings. For this one, it would be killing that deep dragon. The Adventurers¡¯ Guild would give the quest to a highly ranked party of adventurers, who would enter first. That party, however, wouldn¡¯t clear out every crevice of the entire place. After all, most dungeons were massive¡ªsome might be as large as entire cities.


    After that prime party began mapping the dungeon, they would designate any unpromising areas as ¡°secondary.¡± Other parties could go in to clear out these secondary areas and loot whatever they could find¡ªfor a fee. Every party would be paying in gold for that opportunity¡ªgold that would be collected by dungeon security, who were responsible for properly documenting all who entered.


    Bernt wasn¡¯t about to try to talk Ed or the other Underkeepers into committing fraud for the sake of an old acquaintance¡ªnot that he thought he even could.


    ¡°We¡¯re just providing magical support, like the Mages¡¯ Guild usually does,¡± Bernt corrected him. ¡°The guard commander is in charge. Besides, you might have noticed that I¡¯m still out here trying to keep the sewer system under control. If you¡¯re trying to skip the fee or something, you¡¯re going to need to talk to someone else.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Therion said in clear surprise. ¡°No, no. We don¡¯t have liquidity issues. I was hoping for a different kind of favor¡­¡±


    ¡°Then what is it? And aren¡¯t you going to introduce me to your friend first?¡±


    Therion looked embarrassed. ¡°Right, sorry. This is Syrah, our healer. She wanted to come and meet the mage who managed to put a stop to Halfbridge¡¯s slime menace.¡± He turned to Syrah and bowed slightly. ¡°Syrah, meet Bernt the Underkeeper.¡±


    Syrah smiled broadly at him. ¡°Sure, right. And because this was actually my idea¡­¡± She leaned forward and stage-whispered conspiratorially. ¡°We need a guide!¡±


    Her breath smelled of wine.


    ¡°¡­A guide?¡± Bernt repeated.


    ¡°A guide!¡± she said, much louder. ¡°See, I heard that the City Guard has been slacking off more than a bit of late. More specifically, I heard that a bunch of the city¡¯s Underkeepers got themselves in a bit of a tangle with a bunch of kobolds a few days back. As in, before they spilled up and out from under the wall yesterday. And I figure that means you might know a way into the new dungeon that isn¡¯t quite so¡­ official. And since the prime party went in to start clearing the way this morning¡­¡±


    Bernt looked from her back to Therion. ¡°What? Why? I mean, if you can afford the fee, you can just go in like normal¡­¡±


    Now it was Syrah and Therion¡¯s turn to looks confused.


    ¡°Uh¡­ Bernt?¡± Therion said. ¡°You know that there¡¯s a deep dragon in there, right?¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Dragon Lairs have a minimum threat ranking of seven,¡± Therion explained, as if it were obvious. ¡°And usually it¡¯s closer to ten.¡±


    That¡­ explained a lot. Therion was probably the highest-ranked adventurer in his party at rank 3. Which presented a serious problem. While only the prime dungeon party had to meet or exceed the dungeon¡¯s rank, the secondary mop-up parties couldn¡¯t be lower than half of that rank, with preference given to higher-ranked parties.


    Though Therion had achieved a respectable rank for his barely two-year-old adventuring career, there was no way he or his party would be permitted to enter, no matter who his parents were, or how much money he had.


    Of course, adventurers weren¡¯t exactly known for their fear of danger, or their respect for authority. The tradition of trying to circumvent dungeon security was almost as old as the ranking system itself.


    ¡°I was in there,¡± Bernt admitted reluctantly. ¡°We were rescuing two of my coworkers. But that room alone had over twenty kobolds in it. It wasn¡¯t too bad with so many experienced mages, but I can¡¯t imagine what you might run into if you actually tried to delve in there looking for loot.¡±


    Syrah scoffed with more bravado than Bernt thought was warranted. Therion looked at him strangely.


    ¡°Do you know what deep dragons hoard?¡± he asked. ¡°As in, what those kobolds were probably stealing from here and every other village, town and city they could reach?¡±


    Bernt was getting annoyed at Therion¡¯s tone, but tried not to show it.


    ¡°Kobolds are miners, not thieves. I¡¯m not an idiot. That dungeon is probably full of gold and other valuables. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s special about deep dragons, no. Do they prefer gemstones to gold or something? You still have to survive long enough to get it back out!¡±


    Syrah snorted as if he¡¯d told a joke.


    ¡°The gold isn¡¯t that important,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s just for decoration, really. You really should brush up on your beast lore a bit if you want to go adventuring, Bernt. Deep dragons hoard knowledge¡ªespecially spells. They¡¯re obsessed with it. We¡¯ve practically had to tie Therion down all day to keep him from trying to dig his way in willy-nilly.¡±


    Therion glared at Syrah indignantly. ¡°No you didn¡¯t! I just said¡ª¡±


    ¡°Easy, relax!¡± Syrah waved him down. ¡°The point is, there¡¯s a lot of things down there that might interest a mage. And there¡¯s no reason we wouldn¡¯t be able to let you have a look at anything that might be interesting for an aspiring adventurer.¡±


    It was a good offer. There was no telling what kinds of books or scrolls they might find. The Mages¡¯ Academy gave their students a very solid spellcasting foundation, including what they needed to begin to specialize. But that was all Bernt really had. He didn¡¯t have access to the Mages¡¯ Guild to continue his education there. More importantly, though, the dungeon might contain something truly extraordinary¡ªlost or entirely unknown spells and magical knowledge.


    But¡­ just looking over what they chose to show him wasn¡¯t enough. They actually needed him. He had leverage.


    The limits of magic were practically nonexistent, but they would remain out of reach for him unless he was prepared to take risks.


    ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll do it,¡± he said, ¡°¡­but I¡¯m coming with you.¡±

 10. The Gateside Market

    Bernt¡¯s work schedule was standard for all Halfbridge maintenance workers¡ªone day off per week, plus an additional three days¡¯ break each month to manage personal affairs. Normally, Bernt used his free time to practice spellcasting, teach at the old orphanage, and, on occasion, actually relax a little.


    He wasn¡¯t opposed to leisure, really. It was just that most leisure activities cost money. Going out for a proper meal, or worse, a date, would easily wipe out whatever money he¡¯d saved that week.


    Now, though, it was time to spend some of his savings. He had two days left to work before his monthly break, which was when they would enter the dungeon. Before he did that, he needed to go shopping.


    So, instead of relaxing that evening, he lifted a loose floorboard under his bed and extracted a moderately heavy pouch of coins. Tying it to a cord, he hung it around his neck, tucking it into his robes in hopes of hiding it in the folds. People wouldn¡¯t normally try to rob a mage, but there was no sense in tempting fate. His recent encounter with that kobold in the sewers had shown him just how little he really knew about fighting.


    Checking his robes one last time, he left his room and headed toward the Gateside Market. It was located next to the Adventurers¡¯ Guild office near the city¡¯s north gate, in an area casually referred to as the Adventurers¡¯ District. Jori ranged ahead in the darkness, keeping an eye out for him, just to be safe.


    Going into a dungeon would be a big risk¡ªone that would kill him if he didn¡¯t invest in some adventuring equipment. He¡¯d have an experienced adventuring party at his back, but they were also outclassed. He didn¡¯t have the funds to get everything he needed, but he reasoned that some equipment would be better than none. The potential payoff was worth it.


    Kobolds were born miners and loved gold and jewels almost as much as their dragon ancestors. If nothing else, he should be able to loot enough to significantly shorten his remaining tenure with the Underkeepers. If he was lucky, he might be able to start his adventuring career immediately.


    But that alone wasn¡¯t worth risking his life. He was willing to put in the time if it meant reaching his goal without getting killed on the way. But this dungeon had something he couldn¡¯t get with just time and effort. Magical knowledge was expensive and hard to come by. Each guild jealously guarded its knowledge, and the Mages¡¯ Guild was, if anything, more paranoid about it than the rest. Even their library likely only had orthodox texts designed to help mages develop along the well-trodden paths of their predecessors.


    Not to diminish orthodox magecraft, of course. There was a lot to learn there. Bernt wouldn¡¯t have minded getting his hands on an exhaustive pyromancy tome just to broaden his knowledge and to give him a better idea of what was possible. This subterranean dragon, though, might as well be from another world. For all he knew, this dungeon could contain the magical secrets of the dark elves or even more exotic peoples. If it was truly just a young wyrm, the texts likely wouldn¡¯t be anything truly ancient¡ªbut even a young dragon might be over a century old, plenty of time for such a powerful creature to amass a hoard.


    For someone like Bernt it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He needed it. And he just¡­ wanted to see what was in there. Any mage would, right? This was their entire calling, in a way. No wonder Therion was so eager.


    Though night had fallen by the time he arrived, the Gateside Market was still bustling with activity. Unlike the relatively homogenous population of the city, humans, elves, dwarves, goblins and a few more exotic peoples mingled here, buying and selling whatever an adventuring party might need. Bernt knew how provincial Halfbridge was, so the diversity here today surprised him.


    The nearest nonhuman settlement that he knew of was a smaller dwarf town two days¡¯ travel down the river. A few goblins lairs might be closer. They dotted the countryside almost everywhere. There used to be conflict with goblins all throughout the realm, but about thirty years earlier the previous king launched an extensive diplomatic and economic campaign to integrate them into the realm. Today, interactions were mostly peaceful, and many goblins lived and worked in larger cities. Everyone else would have had to travel some distance to get here, though. Maybe word of the dungeon had spread.


    There were small stands selling just about everything, but the good stuff was to be found in permanent shops that framed the market square.


    Bernt¡¯s first stop was an enchantress. He¡¯d been thinking about his initial adventuring purchases for years by now, so he knew what he wanted to get. Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t have the funds he¡¯d planned for, so he had some hard choices ahead of him.


    Opening the door to the sound of tinkling bells, Bernt stepped inside. The walls were lined with shelves holding wands, bracelets, amulets and all kinds of other enchanted items, from staves to hairbrushes.


    ¡°Can I help you?¡± a nasally voice asked.


    Bernt turned to find an elderly woman manning the counter. She was staring down her nose at him, nose wrinkling.


    ¡°Ah, yes. I¡¯m looking for a protective item, preferably with a skin-hardening enchantment.¡±


    The shopkeeper, presumably the enchantress, smirked at him.


    ¡°Are the rats biting too hard?¡± she sneered. ¡°You can find what you need out there. No need to stink up my shop.¡±


    Bernt furrowed his brow. ¡°No¡­ I¡¯m looking¡ª¡±


    ¡°Out!¡± she barked, and Bernt flinched. Well, then, it was going to be like that.


    He stepped back out into the street, berating himself. He shouldn¡¯t have worn the Underkeeper¡¯s robes. He hadn¡¯t even thought about it. Should he go home and change?


    He wasn¡¯t sure he had anything else that fit anymore. It wasn¡¯t as though he could wander around in his old academy robes. And he wasn¡¯t planning to buy new robes today¡ªa good set of robes that could hold up to an adventurer¡¯s lifestyle would cost more than he had, and he wasn¡¯t about to spend his hard-earned money on a mere disguise just to appease the sensibilities of a few self-important merchants.


    ¡°Hey! In the gray there!¡± The voice was male, but high-pitched. Bernt looked around. ¡°Yeah, you! Come here!¡±


    He looked lower down, through a group of pedestrians. Seconds later, he found the speaker waving at him. It was a nut-brown goblin with receding gray hair leaning over a rickety wooden table. Still wrong-footed by the enchantress¡¯s rudeness, he walked over. The table was bare except for a small wooden sign that read ¡°Custom ¡®chants and items!!!¡± with no less than three exclamation marks.


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    ¡°You were out of there awfully quick,¡± the goblin said conversationally. ¡°Are you not a human? She only serves human clientele.¡± He squinted at Bernt. ¡°You don¡¯t look like a half-orc or elf or anything, though. What¡¯s the deal?¡±


    Bernt sighed. He didn¡¯t want to discuss this with a random stranger. ¡°No. It wasn¡¯t about that.¡± He looked around the goblin¡¯s stall. ¡°Where are your wares?¡±


    Goblins weren¡¯t known for their architecture, their music or their crafting skills. Bernt was surprised to see a goblin enchanter and more than a little curious about what one might manage to cobble together.


    The little creature cocked his head, squinting at him. ¡°This is an open market full of adventurers. Do you have any idea how many thieves there are here right now? Just tell me what you need!¡±


    Bernt deliberately did not grab for the bag of gold hanging around his neck. He had not considered just how many professional thieves and tomb burglars were walking around here.


    After a quick explanation of what he was looking for, the goblin reached into a bag at his belt and pulled something out, then slapped it down on the table with more force than was necessary.


    ¡°Boom! I don¡¯t know what you people use here, but this here is a top-of-the-line thorn skin amulet!¡±


    It was garbage.


    Specifically, it was a thin blackberry vine woven into a braid and tied into a loop with a leather clasp. Touching it dubiously with a finger, though, Bernt felt that it actually did have some sort of enchantment worked into it.


    ¡°It¡¯ll make you a lot more durable for a minute or three, and you get a bunch of thorns growing out of your skin on top! It¡¯s great against unarmed fighters! Come on, give it a try!¡±


    Shrugging, Bernt put it around his neck.


    ¡°Of course, it only lasts for a few minutes, and you have to recharge it. You can do that with some of your blood. The thorns kind of hurt, too.¡±


    Bernt wasn¡¯t sure if he meant the ones on the bramble or the ones that were supposed to come out of his skin. But¡­ it seemed a bit late to back out now. With a quick mental command, he activated the ¡°amulet.¡±


    The tiny thorns around his neck dug into his skin before pinpricks of pain erupted all over his body. For a panicked moment, he thought maybe the goblin had tricked him, but just as fast as it came, the pain was gone.


    ¡°Pretty neat, right?!¡±


    Bernt held up a hand, examining his skin. It seemed a bit stiffer, but not uncomfortably so. The thousands of bramble-like thorns poking out of his skin, on the other hand, were incredibly annoying. They stuck in his clothes, making every movement awkward. Still, it worked. It wouldn¡¯t stop a proper sword swing, but if another kobold tried to stick him with a knife, it wouldn¡¯t get very far. Plus, the amulet was reusable, which was better than he¡¯d expected from a goblin.


    ¡°How much?¡±


    ***


    In the end, Bernt walked away with the thorn skin amulet, a bag of holding and a single pebble inscribed with a tiny circle of runes that would open an uncontrolled portal to the elemental plane of fire very briefly. The bag of holding had only a small carrying capacity, closer to that of a large backpack than a proper extradimensional vault. On the plus side, it looked like a worn leather bag¡ªthe sort one might find discarded at the side of the road. Nobody would be trying to steal it.


    In fact, everything he bought from the goblin enchanter, whose name was Grixit, looked more like garbage than enchanted gear. But Bernt could feel the enchantments, and he understood the art well enough to know they functioned more or less as advertised. He also got a great price on it. So great, in fact, that he let Grixit talk him into buying something he hadn¡¯t been looking for.


    ¡°Wands and staves are great¡ªdurable, lots of room for runes and exotic materials,¡± he¡¯d said. ¡°But those are all things you have to hold on to. Do you want to be stuck casting spells with your bare hands right after some villain rings your bell and knocks your wand away?¡± Grixit made a smacking motion with gusto. ¡°No! You need a secondary focus. Something for fast, simple spells that you use to get back on your feet!¡±


    So, now he wore a broad iron ring on his left hand. It was inscribed to function as a generic magical focus, though not a particularly efficient one. But it would do the job if he needed to cast a spell quickly without either of his wands.


    Lastly, he needed potions. A few good healing potions, a mana regeneration elixir and a water-breathing elixir were requirements for any dungeon. He was not about to let a goblin make him these, though. Drinking potions made by just anyone could have truly disastrous consequences.


    Instead, he went to the market¡¯s alchemy shop. As he entered, he noticed a sign hung on the door with text written in large block letters.


    No beggars, goblins, or thief-type adventurers!


    Absolutely no warlocks! We do NOT sell reagents for ritual magic!


    Underneath in a nearly illegible scrawl stood an addendum: ¡°Wakefulness and Stone Skin Elixirs out of stock.¡±


    That was fine. Bernt didn¡¯t need any of those. He went about his business, ordering what he needed, and the man behind the counter there was much friendlier than the enchantress. That is, until it came time to pay.


    ¡°That¡¯ll be twenty-four gold pieces,¡± the alchemist said with a professional, customer-service smile.


    Bernt stared uncomprehendingly.


    ¡°Uh¡­ What?¡± he said. ¡°Your prices are listed right there. It¡¯s eight gold, twenty-one silver.¡±


    The alchemist¡¯s professional smile turned¡­ less professional.


    ¡°Ah, certainly that was true. Unfortunately, we¡¯ve recently experienced a spike in our operating costs due to a change in¡­ tax enforcement.¡± He looked pointedly at Bernt¡¯s gray Underkeeper¡¯s robes. ¡°I believe you¡¯re familiar with it.¡±


    Bernt sighed. Wonderful.


    ***


    Unwilling to be cheated to his face, Bernt left the shop and browsed the open market¡¯s offerings after all. Unfortunately, the off-color potions and strange smells he found out there only validated the concerns he had about trusting his survival to random, non-guild alchemists. Unlike with Grixit¡¯s items, he couldn¡¯t simply test these potions to make sure they worked without risking himself in the process.


    In the end, he found himself returning to the goblin enchanter, who offered him a roll of self-adhesive enchanted bandages that looked like he¡¯d made them himself from torn-up old rags. They weren¡¯t as universally useful as a healing potion, but he decided they might be an adequate substitute. Unlike a minor or standard healing potion, they would stop even heavy bleeding almost instantly.


    It was an innovation he¡¯d never heard of before, which surprised him. Most healing potions didn¡¯t work quickly enough to save someone bleeding out from a main artery. Typically, adventurers invested in an emergency superior-quality healing potion to cover this weakness, which was incredibly expensive. The bandages, on the other hand, cost him just a few silver. That made sense, considering they held only a modified adhesive enchantment and some kind of blood containment enchantment. Blood magic wasn¡¯t common here in the realm, and Bernt was largely unfamiliar with it, but even he could tell this enchantment wasn¡¯t terribly complex. There weren¡¯t even any runes.


    He was happy to have discovered the friendly and rather unconventional enchanter. While he didn¡¯t offer anything elaborate¡ªor really anything that looked like a marketable product¡ªthe actual magic seemed solid enough to Bernt. More importantly, the little creature had a practical and affordable solution for everything.


    Bernt supposed it fit. Goblins were, as a people, survivalists. They¡¯d never built anything a human would recognize as a real civilization, they didn¡¯t produce any powerful archmages and, as far as Bernt knew, didn¡¯t even have their own writing system. For all that, though, they existed all over the world, on the fringes of greater societies. That made them more successful than many of the peoples who disparaged them, depending on how you looked at it. They were neither weak nor stupid.

 11. Illegal Entry

    For once, Bernt rose early, well before dawn. While Jori gnawed on some dry jerky under his bed, he downed a quick breakfast, grabbed his bag of holding and strapped on his wand.


    He was nervous.


    Still, he had a job to do before he met Therion and the rest of the party. Hoping that he wouldn¡¯t stumble across anyone he worked with, he left and made his way through the still-dark city to the Smiths¡¯ Lane, where he found the shaft nearest to the original breach. When he reached it, he couldn¡¯t help but shiver, remembering.


    He¡¯d seen what the kobolds did to Yarrod. The small family he guided out of this very shaft last week might never recover from their trauma, and they hadn¡¯t been tortured at all. Would Yarrod ever have a normal life again?


    Adventuring meant facing terrors like this regularly. What would that do to Bernt? Would he be the same person when he came out?


    What would he be like in ten years?


    There weren¡¯t many old adventurers out there. They tended to retire after a decade or so, if they lived that long. When he was younger, he always thought that was just because they were wealthy enough to stop working. Now he doubted that was the only reason.


    A chirp broke him out of his reverie. Jori was looking up at him through the grate impatiently, and Bernt opened it with a quick spell using his old wand. This was his dream. He would do great things, and everyone had to start somewhere. Why not a dragon¡¯s lair?


    Bernt chuckled to himself, though he wasn¡¯t sure it was actually funny.


    Moments later, he stood in front of a mirror-smooth wall of dense stone¡ªthe sealed tunnel. It would be foolish to try to open it back up, but it gave him a reference point to help him find the kobold tunnels again.


    Moving a few steps to the side, he began casting a tunneling spell¡ªthe only proper earth magic he actually knew. He was nearly as bad with earth as he was with arcane force spells, but he¡¯d had a lot of practice with this one. It was an easy way to clear sand and compacted muck from pipes, a spell that slowly pushed dirt and rock away from a particular spot. With practice, the caster could control which direction the rock would go, but that wasn¡¯t needed here. In its most basic form, the spell would compact the rock into the tunnel walls, ensuring the structure¡¯s stability.


    Jori sat and watched for a few minutes, eyes shining like those of a cat, before flitting off into the darkness.


    After twenty minutes of effort, Bernt collapsed to the ground, sweating. He didn¡¯t remember exactly how deep the original tunnel went, but decided this would be enough preparation at about thirty strides deep. That should cover most of the distance without actually breaking through. He didn¡¯t want to break into the dungeon too early¡ªhe needed to go and meet his party first.


    When he caught his breath, he silently called out to Jori and returned to street level.


    ***


    Fifteen minutes later, Bernt turned off into a dingy alley down by the docks, not too far from his house.


    ¡°There he is!¡± A voice cut through the darkness. Moments later, a light flared and Bernt saw Therion standing with four other people, an orb of arcane light suspended above and behind him. He was dressed in combat robes reinforced with armor around the torso, and held a thick carved quarterstaff that would probably work just as well as a blunt weapon and a focus. He looked impressive, like a proper adventurer.


    Which he was, Bernt supposed.


    ¡°Finally! Hey, new guy, why are we meeting in this dingy alleyway?¡± asked an unnaturally pale young half-elf woman. She wasn¡¯t carrying any weapons, but he saw an expensive-looking silver flute tucked into her belt. A bard, then.


    Bernt thought it was bold to go walking around town with something so valuable on display, but it didn¡¯t necessarily mean she was a fool. Besides, he didn¡¯t want to get off on the wrong foot with his new party. He opened his mouth to answer, but an older-looking man spoke first.


    ¡°Well, Elyn, it¡¯s about stealth. The guard doesn¡¯t come down here, and the gangs don¡¯t like to get involved with entire parties of adventurers. This isn¡¯t exactly legal, you know.¡±


    He used that annoyingly didactic tone that wise elder siblings and upperclassmen everywhere used to lord over their lessers.


    The bard, Elyn, narrowed her eyes at him. He ignored her, or maybe he didn¡¯t notice. The man looked¡­ completely ordinary. Like any random worker off the street.


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    Therion cleared his throat.


    ¡°Ahem. Hi, Bernt, nice to see you made it. You¡¯ve met Syrah. Elyn is our bard and Oren here is our thief.¡±


    He turned to the last member of their party, who hadn¡¯t bothered to get involved so far. He was an almost absurdly broad-shouldered man of average height wearing an assortment of fine but mismatched armor. He carried a round shield and a long but slender warhammer with a nasty-looking spike on one end.


    ¡°This is Furin, our front-liner.¡±


    Bernt did a double-take at the name, looking more closely at the man¡¯s features, build and wiry beard. By all the gods¡­ the man was a dwarf. Technically, anyway. He must weigh as much as any two humans in the party, and he was probably a hair taller than Bernt.


    ¡°Everyone, this is Bernt,¡± Therion finished.


    Bernt gave a little wave and gave them his best professional smile.


    ¡°Hi, everyone. It¡¯s nice to meet you,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to working with you all.¡±


    He waited for a response, but they all continued to stare at him expectantly.


    ¡°Alright. If you turn around, you¡¯ll notice a sewer access shaft over to the right.¡± He walked over and hauled the heavy covering off with practiced ease. The familiar smell of the sewers wafted up, and Elyn took a step back.


    ¡°The original breach is over by Smiths¡¯ Lane, but that whole area is too well patrolled. We can¡¯t risk the guards seeing a bunch of random adventurers climbing down into the sewers.¡± He smiled at the group, showing his teeth. ¡°So, we¡¯ll go in right here.¡±


    ***


    ¡°This isn¡¯t what I had in mind when you said the entrance was underground,¡± Elyn complained as they trudged toward their destination. She was vainly trying to keep the vile sludge from splashing onto her clothes.


    Therion shrugged. ¡°I told you the Underkeepers found it. Where did you think we were going?¡± He plowed through the waters without a care, like Bernt himself did. They could easily clean their clothes with magic, and they would do so for the others as well. ¡°Besides, we¡¯re adventurers! The whole point is going where others wouldn¡¯t!¡±


    ¡°Do you smell this place?¡± she snapped at him. ¡°Am I the only one with a functioning nose in here?¡±


    Syrah snorted at her. ¡°Oh, shut up. If you had it so bad, you wouldn¡¯t be gabbing so much.¡± She shuddered. ¡°I can practically taste it.¡±


    With Syrah being barely half the other woman¡¯s height, the muck hadn¡¯t just splashed onto her legs. She was nearly covered in it. Seeing her, Bernt actually felt a bit bad. He also wondered how Yarrod managed to work down here at all¡ªthe gnome was quite a bit shorter than even Syrah. Some of the larger tunnels had walkways on the sides, but many were just like this.


    ¡°It¡¯s not far now,¡± he reassured them.


    Sure enough, they reached the mostly completed tunnel just a few minutes later.


    As they entered, Bernt turned to close up the tunnel entrance behind them, standing at the very back to ensure that no one would be able to see out. As he did, he sent a quick impression to Jori, who silently darted in just as he began casting and dove into his bag, curling up tightly. Living creatures couldn¡¯t be drawn into the dimensional space inside the bag.


    Hopefully, no one would notice how full it looked now.


    When Bernt turned around, he saw that Therion was already busily casting spells to clean everyone off.


    He noticed, with a bit of jealousy, that the other mage¡¯s cleaning spell was quite a bit more advanced than his. Rather than just killing the smell, it removed the filth in its entirety, leaving their clothes pristine. It was probably a spell he¡¯d learned at the Mages¡¯ Guild Library¡ªor from a private tutor. Therion didn¡¯t comment on the stains that marked Bernt¡¯s own robes, which he appreciated.


    Bernt moved through the group to the front, readying his wand for the tunneling spell that would get them through the rest of the way.


    ¡°Hold on a second,¡± Therion said right behind him. Bernt tensed.


    ¡°What?¡± Were they going to try to back out of their deal, now that they knew where to go? Bernt tried not to look nervous, but he began to sweat.


    ¡°You need some protective equipment if you really want to go in there,¡± Therion told him, face serious. ¡°It¡¯s going to be dangerous in there, even for us.¡±


    This was it. Therion was trying to talk him into turning back. But he couldn¡¯t. He wasn¡¯t going to just rely on them to share whatever they found. They¡¯d never show him the truly great finds.


    ¡°You need at least a proper shield charm and a good healing potion to keep you alive long enough for us to bail you out,¡± Therion went on. ¡°You can pay me back when we¡¯re out, but you need to take this, alright?¡±


    Bernt looked at the proffered items without reaching for them. He knew he should take them, but he didn¡¯t want to. The shield charm was a runed metal bracelet inlaid with gold.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a protective amulet¡­¡± he said after a moment.


    Therion looked at him doubtfully. Finally, he sighed and pushed the healing potion into his hand. ¡°The potion, then. Come on. We can¡¯t afford to let you get killed. I certainly don¡¯t want to explain to the City Guard or your boss how you ended up dead inside a dungeon.¡±


    After another moment of hesitation, Bernt took it and put it in his bag. He did need a healing potion.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said quietly.


    Embarrassingly, the others were watching the interaction with some interest. Oren looked like he was about to say something insulting, but stopped when Furin shook his head at him slightly. Elyn was watching him with a mixture of pity and disgust. Only Syrah seemed completely unconcerned. She was muttering a prayer to herself holding a silver aspergillum, and winked at him. Then she flicked it in his direction, spraying him with a bit of holy water. He felt that magic of some kind was at work, but sacred rites didn¡¯t work like anything a mage could sense or understand.


    It made him feel¡­ safer, somehow. Less fearful. His heartbeat slowed a little, and he took a deep breath, mind calming and focus sharpening.


    As she turned to bless the others, he got to work breaking open the rest of the way into the dungeon.

 12. When Theres Something Strange....

    Bernt¡¯s spell broke into the kobold tunnel just a few paces from where the Underkeepers had entered last time. It had been cleared since their raid on the place, but stains and bits of debris still remained as evidence of the battle. The same was true of the large room, once they reached it.


    Here, the party slowed down. Bernt could guess why. During their rescue operation, the first tunnel had been thoroughly trapped. Considering what happened to Ed, moving too quickly could easily get someone killed.


    While the others waited, Therion and Oren got to work. The arcanist started channeling a trapfinding spell that Bernt had never heard of and slowly walked into a connecting tunnel. One after another, hidden traps revealed themselves with a soft blue glow. At the same time, Oren worked confidently, rapidly dismantling the traps as they appeared.


    ¡°Bernt, come up here with me, alright?¡± Therion called. ¡°It¡¯ll be good to have some more firepower if we get any unexpected resistance. I¡¯ll cover Oren if he runs into trouble, and you¡¯ll attack.¡±


    When they reached the next chamber, however, they found it deserted as well. There was a hearth set into one wall, and a small heap of animal bones and other garbage in one corner. Bernt wondered what was supposed to vent the smoke¡ªhe didn¡¯t see a chimney. He knew there were enchantments for that, but he doubted kobolds would have access to them.


    Then again, they were apparently the forces of some kind of mysterious dragon-mage¡­


    Bernt was about to walk over to examine the hearth more closely, but the rest of the party hadn¡¯t stopped. Should he ask them to wait?


    He looked at the hearth, and back at the group. Furin, who had been walking right behind him a moment before, stopped to see where he was and raised a silent eyebrow at him. No, Bernt decided. He wasn¡¯t here to learn about smoke management anyway.


    Bernt hurried to catch up.


    There were many traps, one every twenty steps or so. Some were fairly obvious, even without a detection spell, but others were fiendishly well hidden. An elaborate mosaic of geometric patterns that decorated one section of tunnel had pressure triggers hidden among the tiles. Arrow slits¡ªprobably for more of those metal bolts¡ªwere disguised in a large mural of a dragon breathing toxic gas on an army of gray-skinned dwarves, their flesh melting from their bones.


    Occasionally, there would even be two traps right next to each other, with one more obvious than the other. Therion¡¯s spell wasn¡¯t fooled, though. He must have been practicing.


    Bernt tried not to feel jealous of the other man¡¯s skill and experience, but it wasn¡¯t easy. Who knows how much more of a mage he could be by now if he¡¯d had the kinds of opportunities Therion had enjoyed over the past few years?


    They found two more deserted rooms before they finally ran into resistance.


    Oren destroyed another trap mechanism, as he¡¯d done countless times before, when a heavy stone slab fell from the ceiling, crashing to the ground with a boom between the thief and the two mages.


    Coughing from the resulting dust cloud, Bernt almost missed it when Oren yelped with surprise.


    A dark shape emerged from the haze, resolving into Oren¡¯s shape as it barreled past them and Therion raised a force shield.


    ¡°Contact!¡± Therion shouted, pressing himself to the wall. Belatedly, Bernt raised his wand and stepped to the side as well. Jori squirmed in his bag as she was pressed to the wall a little too hard, and he shifted to give her more room.


    As Furin stepped past to take point, a screaming kobold came charging out of nowhere with a shrieking cry, only to crash into the force shield. The impact knocked the wind out of the creature, which bounced back and fell with a groan. Without missing a beat, Therion dropped the shield, allowing Furin to bring his club down on the unfortunate kobold¡¯s head with a sickening wet crunch.


    ¡°Bernt, clear the tunnel!¡± Therion called, and he complied. With a circular motion, he condensed flame into a fireball¡ªthe bread and butter of pyromancers everywhere. Three seconds later, he launched it over Furin¡¯s massive shoulder, straight down the tunnel. The spell shot forward, illuminating the tunnel as it went, before barreling into a small group of kobolds.


    Shrill voices yelped and then screamed. A moment later, blue light filled the tunnel as Therion sent his magelight out in front of the group. Most of them were still coming, though two of them looked more than a little singed, and one was slowly picking itself up off the ground, crawling back away from the adventurers.


    Bernt raised his wand again and tried to raise a fire shield in front of Furin, but his hand was shaking. He botched the spell and nothing happened.


    The knot of kobolds reached Furin, who blocked a swing with his shield as he laid about him with his club. Therion cast a spell Bernt had never heard of, making one of the kobolds stumble around as if drunk. Furin knocked it out with a blow to the head two seconds later.


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    Then music emanated from behind the group¡ªthe sound of a flute. Bernt¡¯s hand steadied and he felt something in his chest unclench. He tried the spell again, and this time it worked. Kobolds screeched in pain, jumping back from the narrow barrier of flame. Anyone could pass through it, technically, but it would melt their skin if they tried.


    Before this, Bernt had never really understood what a bard was good for in an adventuring group. Officially they ¡°managed morale,¡± which had always sounded to Bernt like a more complicated way to say they were useless.


    Now he thought he understood. He needed to give Elyn more credit.


    Therion started lobbing magic missiles through the fire shield, and soon all of the kobolds were down. Bernt dropped the shield, and Furin moved in, calmly prodding the bodies with his club one after another until he suddenly brought it down with a sharp crack when he found a live one. The burned kobold that had been crawling away before was nowhere to be found.


    Bernt was amazed at how well the fight had gone. He¡¯d known in theory, but this was a powerful illustration of what a well-organized party of trained adventurers could do. Though these creatures weren¡¯t tough in small numbers, he couldn¡¯t imagine that even trained soldiers would have fared much better than the kobolds, facing down Therion¡¯s party.


    In the silence that followed the fight, Bernt heard Syrah singing a prayer. Only then did he realize that Oren had been injured. He was sitting against the tunnel wall with a bloody hand pressed to his side. Syrah was with him, presumably performing a healing ritual.


    Bernt didn¡¯t know what kind it was specifically¡ªhe didn¡¯t know much about religion, and he certainly didn¡¯t know anything about dwarven gods. He did know that priests had to have some sliver of attention from their chosen deity to actually perform any kind of magic. That meant even simple acolytes could theoretically access immense power in extraordinary circumstances, but not reliably. Bernt cringed at the thought. He couldn¡¯t imagine having to rely on someone¡¯s favor every time he wanted to do anything¡ªno matter how powerful.


    Still, it was clearly working. Oren was already breathing easier.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said into the silence, voice rasping slightly. ¡°I would¡¯ve hated to waste a healing potion on a pack of kobolds. Still can¡¯t believe that little shit got me.¡±


    ¡°You alright?¡± Furin asked, speaking for the first time since Bernt had met him. He had a strange accent¡ªalmost as if the vowels were trying to climb down the back of his throat.


    ¡°Fine, old friend. Just fine!¡± The thief regained a bit of his prior cheer. ¡°Let¡¯s see what they had on them!¡±


    As it turned out, they weren¡¯t carrying much. A few coins, some low-quality beetle-carapace armor that would only fit a kobold, a few short spears, and a rather nice jeweled dagger that immediately disappeared into one of Oren¡¯s pockets.


    ¡°That¡¯s odd,¡± Syrah said, examining a body. Oren grunted contemplatively and a few of the others nodded, looking around.


    ¡°What is?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the kobolds,¡± Syrah explained. ¡°They¡¯re barely carrying any valuables. Where are the gems and the gold?¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°They¡¯re all the way out here, near the edge of their territory. Maybe they¡¯re just poor? You can¡¯t expect everyone to be rich, right?¡±


    Oren scoffed at that and Syrah gave him a skeptical look, but it was Elyn who eventually explained.


    ¡°Kobold societies are primitive. They don¡¯t really have proper social classes, or ¡®poor people.¡¯ Besides, they¡¯re all miners. This is like finding a farmer starving in his own fields. It doesn¡¯t make sense.¡±


    Bernt didn¡¯t know what to say. Did that mean that there wouldn¡¯t be any treasure further in? He could feel his heart sink in his chest. This was supposed to be his chance. An opportunity to start his life, his real life, early.


    What were they supposed to do now? Could they sell the weapons, maybe? There was some decent steel there, right? What were those worth?


    He sighed to himself. They needed to find where the dragon kept its books¡ªor maybe where kobold sorcerers learned their own magics. He knew that other races, especially fey and draconic races, used magic a bit differently than he was used to, but that could be even more interesting than conventional spells or records of orthodox magecraft. It would be valuable, he was sure. And who knows what he might learn?


    They continued down the tunnel, working their way through traps. Soon, they started finding intersections with other tunnels, and Oren marked the path they came from by scratching a lopsided circle into the ceiling at each juncture. They were hard to spot if you weren¡¯t looking for them¡ªor looking up at all.


    The number of traps they found decreased as they went, until finally the tunnels seemed completely clear. Fifteen minutes later, they still hadn¡¯t run into any further resistance.


    Oren stopped, holding up a hand to the others.


    ¡°I hate this,¡± he whispered warily. ¡°This whole thing stinks. I saw one of those kobolds get away before. There¡¯s no way in all the hells that they don¡¯t know we¡¯re here. So where are they?¡±


    Syrah nodded. ¡°He¡¯s right, it¡¯s suspicious. We should turn around, see what the other parties are saying about the dungeon. We can always go back in when we know more.¡±


    ¡°No!¡¯ Therion insisted. ¡°If we wait too long, all of the good stuff will already be cleared out. The kobolds might even retreat once the dragon is killed, if they¡¯re smart. For a young dragon, I doubt it¡¯ll take them longer than a few weeks to corner and kill it.¡±


    Bernt was relieved that Therion wanted to continue¡ªif they left now, he seriously doubted they would bring him along the next time. Therion could open the way just as well as him, now that they all knew where it was.


    Elyn sighed. ¡°So, what? We haven¡¯t even seen anything really dangerous yet. I think we should look around a bit more, at least¡­¡±


    Furin shrugged, apparently not caring either way.


    It took Bernt a moment to realize that everyone was now looking at him.


    ¡°Oh! Uh¡­ I¡¯d like to keep going. I can¡¯t afford to miss this opportunity, and it just¡­ doesn¡¯t seem that dangerous?¡± He said the last part like a question, unsure of himself.


    ¡°Hmph.¡± Oren turned to continue leading the group forward. ¡°People always say that just before they end up gutted in an alley.¡±

 13. Outmaneuvered

    ¡°Run!¡± Oren hissed, running back down the tunnel toward them.


    They¡¯d continued on, eventually reaching what looked like living spaces with sleeping chambers, kitchens and storage rooms. They found bedding, food and a few cooking implements, but still no valuables. There also weren¡¯t any kobolds. That is, there weren¡¯t until now. Yipping noises echoed from ahead. A lot of yipping noises.


    Oren had finally found the enemy.


    The others didn¡¯t question him. Instead, they turned and immediately hurried back the way they came. Moments later, they ducked into what turned out to be a storage chamber full of root vegetables, dried mushrooms and greens that Bernt was fairly certain were actually common garden weeds from the surface.


    Furin was the last one in, and he gently closed the door behind them before waving everyone else further back into the room. Therion began casting some kind of scrying spell. Bernt recognized the spell, but scrying was something he¡¯d never been talented with himself.


    ¡°Oren,¡± Furin whispered. ¡°Did they see you?¡±


    The thief shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, maybe?¡±


    ¡°Shush!¡± Syrah hissed at them both. They could hear footsteps now, and an image resolved in front of Therion, showing the tunnel just outside their door.


    Moments later, kobolds poured around the corner. They wore chitin armor and held spears or small daggers. After that came a kobold with scaled wings like those of a dragon. Bernt hadn¡¯t realized that was possible. Could they fly with those? And what was the point of wings on a subterranean species, anyway? That one, though, was carrying a staff¡ªa focus. It was a sorcerer.


    He didn¡¯t know what to make of that, but before he could think about it too hard, things got even worse. A bloody and beaten line of humans, dwarves and half-elves emerged, herded along by more of the much smaller spear-wielding kobolds that yipped to each other in excitement as they went. Bernt heard a sharp intake of breath next to him and saw Elyn cover her mouth in surprise. He didn¡¯t recognize the captives, but he knew they had to be from Halfbridge.


    Worse, they just kept coming. First five, then ten, and finally fourteen adventurers were prodded along, walking right past them through the tunnel.


    That was at least two full parties, and more likely three not-so-full ones.


    At the very back, a knot of kobolds was dragging something along the ground¡ªsomething small. Only when they passed directly in front of the group did Bernt realize what it was. The gnome was grievously injured, hair matted down with blood and clearly unconscious. Still, kobolds leaned in to gouge the poor creature with their claws, giggling.


    How could so many adventurers have possibly been beaten, much less captured, by a bunch of kobolds? It just didn¡¯t happen.


    By the time the dungeon was opened for clearing, the prime party should have softened it up enough to ensure that serious organized resistance was no longer possible. They would do that by systematically eliminating leaders, cutting lines of communication and directly threatening the dungeon¡¯s ¡°primary.¡± That was whichever threat gave the dungeon its ranking¡ªin this case, a deep dragon.


    Normally, secondary parties could easily establish control, breaking any remaining organized defense and looting the place.


    That was not what was happening here.


    When the procession of kobolds disappeared down the tunnel, Therion slumped down with a groan, though he kept the scrying window up.


    ¡°You were right, Oren. We should have turned back.¡±


    Bernt was watching Therion. He looked defeated, but not worn out. Scrying windows were complex spells. Keeping one open like this should be mentally exhausting. For the first time, Bernt wondered just how much Therion actually outclassed him. He knew they were both graduated mages developing their primary affinity. The way Therion was casting, though, he had to ask himself if the other mage had already managed his first arcane investiture. He hadn¡¯t marked his robes, but that wasn¡¯t unusual for an adventurer¡ªthey tended to worry more about their adventuring rank.


    Oren was playing with one of his knives nervously, flipping it in his hand and looking around wide-eyed.


    ¡°I told you! I said this smelled fishy, didn¡¯t I? This is bad!¡±


    ¡°Oh, stop it!¡± Elyn interjected. ¡°We managed to hide easily enough, didn¡¯t we? Parties get captured sometimes, it happens! The prime party will sort it out soon, or we could even do it, probably! They¡¯re just kobolds¡­¡±


    Just as she said that, though, more figures appeared in Therion¡¯s scrying window. Kobolds were escorting another party of prisoners down the tunnel, going the same direction as the first.


    ¡°It¡¯s Worov¡¯s party!¡± Syrah whispered, pointing at the armored dwarf near the front of the group. Bernt¡¯s heart clenched in his chest. Worov was a moderately famous adventurer in Halfbridge. If he remembered correctly, he was a rank 6 heavy axeman¡ªformer military. His long beard was matted with blood, though he didn¡¯t look injured otherwise. The others, mostly humans, looked worse.


    Furin drew his club and looked like he was about to go out there, but Syrah grabbed his arm and hissed.


    ¡°There could be more! We need to get the word out before we try anything.¡±


    Therion nodded toward her, his face pale but expression determined. Once the kobolds were gone again, he cleared his throat.


    ¡°If they¡¯re capturing people like Worov, this can¡¯t be a coincidence. I think it¡¯s all a trap. Parties go into the dungeon and find it empty, like we did. So, they go in deeper until the kobolds ambush them and cut off their retreat. I mean, they made the entrance themselves.¡±


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    Oren rolled his eyes. ¡°Great, thanks for the analysis, genius. But how are we going to get back out?¡±


    ¡°The same way we came in,¡± Therion answered, taking charge. ¡°We didn¡¯t use the proper dungeon entrance. They know we¡¯re in here, but if I¡¯m right, they won¡¯t look for us over there.¡±


    The others exchanged glances, but Bernt didn¡¯t bother. He knew he wasn¡¯t getting a vote this time.


    Therion pointed at him.


    ¡°Only Bernt and I can open that entrance, so, if we get discovered, we should split up into two groups with one mage each. Are you alright with that, Bernt?¡±


    Right, they might need him. If something happened to Therion. Of course.


    Bernt nodded mechanically. This entire situation didn¡¯t feel real. It wasn¡¯t supposed to go like this.


    ¡°You¡¯ll take Furin and Syrah. If we¡¯re forced to split, your group will keep heading down the marked path, and I¡¯ll scry for a different route for mine.¡±


    Bernt was sure someone was about to object, but nothing happened. Instead, Furin opened the door and stepped back out into the tunnel.


    ¡°Come on,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s not wait around.¡±


    ***


    They moved quickly and quietly, retracing their steps. Still, they didn¡¯t make it more than five minutes before they heard kobolds chattering up ahead.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Therion asked.


    Furin swung his club as if to warm up. ¡°Go through. Move fast.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Oren said, though he sounded a little reluctant to Bernt. ¡°If we try to avoid them, we¡¯re going to risk getting herded off course. If we punch through, they might not know where to look.¡±


    Elyn¡¯s flute was already up, and before anyone else could say anything, she started playing.


    Bernt immediately took back any charitable thoughts he might have had about bards. If the kobolds hadn¡¯t heard them yet, they certainly did now. The tune that came out was calm, with a slow beat and irregular flourishes. The acoustics in the tunnel were actually very nice. In any other setting, it would be relaxing.


    He was about to ask her what she could possibly be thinking when Therion¡¯s hand landed on his shoulder.


    ¡°As soon as we engage, can you break them up a bit for Oren and Furin? I¡¯ll put up a force barrier behind them to keep any from escaping. Don¡¯t launch anything before we start the fight.¡±


    Bernt considered for a second before he finally nodded. Clearly, they had their own established tactics.


    Raising his pyromancer¡¯s wand, he began to cast, weaving mana through it into a complex pattern. He had a moment, so this was a good opportunity to field-test something he¡¯d been working on during his practice sessions in the sewers.


    When the kobolds came into view, Bernt quickly realized what Elyn was doing. The ten or so enemies were no longer talking to each other. Instead, they all walked in silence, staring at nothing. They didn¡¯t react to the party at all¡ªat least not at first. At about ten strides, one of the kobolds¡¯ eyes snapped to Furin, who was standing at the front. It cocked its head, as if it were trying to remember something.


    Slowly, it stumbled to a stop and raised its spear, other kobolds bumping into it.


    But it was too late.


    Arcane missiles ripped into the first few kobolds, followed by Furin, who bashed his way through with shield and club.


    Then Bernt released his own spell. It looked like a simple fireball at first, roaring over the kobolds¡¯ heads. They flinched away, and he seemed to have missed. Bernt immediately began casting again, preparing for the next part. Suddenly, the first fireball broke apart, expanding into a wide tongue of flame that curled and turned and swept back up the tunnel toward them, right into the kobolds¡¯ rear.


    Just before the searing wind could reach their party, Bernt finished his second spell, raising a heat barrier in front of Furin. It was a risky maneuver, but it paid off. Aboveground, the spell wouldn¡¯t have worked¡ªmost of the heat would have dissipated before it could reach the enemy. But Bernt had been curious about what was possible in the confined space of the sewers. It was actually a standard fireball spell, combined with some principles of fire shield and basic flame manipulation. It was still clunky and slow to cast, but it worked.


    Most of the kobolds were writhing on the ground in agony. A few were already dead, and Oren was currently ramming a knife into one of only two kobolds that had found themselves on the safe side of Bernt¡¯s heat barrier.


    The plan had gone perfectly. Then Elyn¡¯s flute music stopped.


    Elyn shouted something, but she didn¡¯t get past the first syllable before she was cut off. Bernt turned in time to see her stumble forward. A kobold had clubbed her in the back of the head with the butt of its spear, and more were coming up from behind. She didn¡¯t go down, probably protected by some enchanted item, but she was clearly caught off guard.


    Syrah was already on the ground, two kobolds tying up her limp form. At least she wasn¡¯t dead if they were restraining her. More were coming up behind those. Many, many more.


    Bernt raised his wand, but then lowered it. What could he do that wouldn¡¯t hit them as well?


    Then Furin barreled past him, charging in to face the new threat. As he did, a magic missile blasted past the dwarf, taking out one of the new kobolds.


    Right. Bernt began firing small, dense fire darts into the mass of them. They burned through their skin and clothes, and the little monsters shrieked in pain, but he could already see that it wouldn¡¯t be enough. While he was sure that they hurt, they didn¡¯t go through to the muscle tissue and organs at this range.


    The darts didn¡¯t kill or properly disable the kobolds, and he couldn¡¯t cast quickly enough to bring down so many even if they did. Fire also had the unfortunate side effect of cauterizing the wounds it caused, so he couldn¡¯t count on any of them bleeding out. They were already pushing Furin back toward them, though he was laying out one kobold after another.


    ¡°Bernt! Get moving!¡± Therion thundered at him from behind. ¡°You need to get word out to the guild!¡±


    A cold fist clenched around Bernt¡¯s stomach. If they had to split, he was supposed to have Furin and Syrah with him. But they were bogged down, fighting for their lives. Furin didn¡¯t look like he would run even if he could.


    They needed him.


    ¡°It¡¯s too late!¡± he called back, and he kept casting.


    That was when Therion stepped past him and raised a force shield right in front of his nose.


    ¡°They¡¯re taking prisoners. We¡¯re going to hold them here, and you¡¯re going to run. We¡¯ll be fine,¡± Therion explained, voice hard. He really was skilled, Bernt thought, maintaining the shield, casting magic missiles into the kobolds and talking at the same time.


    ¡°Move, now!¡± he snapped.


    For a moment, Bernt wavered. He didn¡¯t want to run. He wasn¡¯t a coward. But breaking down Therion¡¯s shield was only going to distract him. As Bernt fought with himself, the arcanist was taking on an even greater burden, raising another shield to divide the oncoming kobolds and take some of the pressure off of Furin.


    The choice had been made for him.


    He turned and ran.


    The way forward was littered with kobold corpses, and he had to slow down a bit to get through them. There was no sign of Oren¡ªthe bastard must have made himself scarce instead of helping. Or maybe it was part of a plan. It didn¡¯t matter now.


    Bernt stumbled as something sliced into his calf, cutting deep. With a cry, he looked back. One of the kobolds on the ground was glaring at him, holding itself up with one hand as it held a bloody dagger in the other.


    Bernt didn¡¯t have time to think of a spell. He reached for the only thing he saw¡ªa kobold spear with a bone haft, lying on the ground just in arm¡¯s reach¡ªand swung it at his attacker.


    The injured kobold was in no condition to dodge and crumpled under the blow.


    Using the spear as a walking stick, Bernt hobbled off into the darkness, the sounds of his companions fighting ringing in his ears.

 14. Digging for Freedom

    For a moment, Bernt considered creating a light for himself, but it would only help the kobolds find him. For that matter, they could probably smell the blood he was losing all over the ground.


    He needed to stop and deal with that, and quickly.


    Realizing that he was forgetting something, he flipped his bag open, urging Jori to come out. By concentrating on their bond, he saw from her perspective as she jumped to the ground and chittered in agitation.


    She felt how upset he was, which made her feel anxious in turn. He had no idea how well she understood what was going on, but she could see in the dark¡ªand that was something he needed right now. She scrambled up the wall with her sharp little claws and ran along the ceiling, scouting back the way they¡¯d come.


    If the kobolds came up from behind him, he¡¯d know in time to get moving again.


    After a bit of rummaging in his bag, Bernt found the bandages he bought from Grixit and pulled up his robes to examine the wound. It was a deep gash that ran almost vertically up the outside of his calf where the kobold had stabbed him. Cursing himself furiously for his lack of awareness in the moment, he began the process of wrapping it up to stop the bleeding. It wasn¡¯t a deadly wound¡ªas long as it didn¡¯t get infected, at least. But he might have avoided it entirely if he¡¯d just remembered to use his thorn skin amulet.


    He hadn¡¯t thought of it at any point in the battle.


    How did people get good at this? Elyn had barely had time to react, but she¡¯d still remembered to use her defensive items. Furin and Therion had responded almost instantly¡ªas far as he knew, they were still fighting. Maybe they¡¯d even win.


    He needed to learn, and fast.


    But first, he had to get out of here. That was the most important thing right now. He couldn¡¯t move very quickly with a wounded leg, and he¡¯d need to slow down even more to find the markings that would lead him back to the entrance. He¡¯d never make it if he couldn¡¯t lose any pursuers that might be coming.


    Bernt bent over his wounded leg, ripped the cloth with his teeth to free the roll, and used a quick adhesion cantrip to doubly secure the enchanted bandage. Then he signaled Jori and started moving again. He needed her up here to help him see. He had no idea how the kobolds had found them before, but he didn¡¯t want to risk a light now. Alone, he could be overcome even by a few kobolds, especially if they got the drop on him.


    ***


    Bernt huddled in what looked like a small sleeping alcove and listened as another kobold patrol passed by out in the tunnel. His group had passed by a variety of deserted chambers on its way in, and he was glad for them now. The patrols often poked their heads in to check for any adventurer parties that might be hiding there, but as long as he wasn¡¯t in the line of sight from the doorway, it wasn¡¯t an issue.


    His progress had stalled now that he was near the dungeon¡¯s exit. Kobolds passed by every few minutes. Either his group had been incredibly lucky on the way in, or the kobolds had found the disabled traps and stepped up their patrol schedule in the meantime.


    Despair welled up in Bernt¡¯s chest. How could he possibly get to the exit now, much less find the time to open it back up? Just opening the way out would take longer than the time between patrols.


    The sound of his party fighting as he ran away still rang in his ears. He couldn¡¯t get it out of his head. They were probably captured now, or worse.


    They were counting on him, and he was hiding in a random room. He hated feeling like this¡ªlike a mouse in a hole, helpless.


    But he wasn¡¯t a mouse. He was a mage and a pyromancer. He couldn¡¯t just sit here waiting for the guild or maybe Ed to get suspicious of the fact that nobody was coming out. It would take too long, and they still wouldn¡¯t know what they were facing here. The kobolds were organized and prepared specifically to deal with adventuring parties.


    That wasn¡¯t unthinkable on its own¡ªeveryone knew how the Adventurers¡¯ Guild worked. Why wouldn¡¯t an intelligent enemy, like a dragon, prepare for them?


    It was just that usually, it didn¡¯t work. The guild¡¯s scryers assessed and ranked threats to prevent things like this. The prime party was meant to overwhelm the defenses of the dungeon it was assigned to. That was why it had to be ranked so highly.


    So what happened this time? Where was the prime party right now?


    Bernt cursed silently. He didn¡¯t even know who was in the prime party¡ªhe hadn¡¯t thought it would be important. Now, though, he wondered. Were they underqualified? Or had the kobolds deliberately put up a weak defense, allowing them to smash through, only to close the way behind them?


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    Maybe they were advancing on the dragon right now, not even realizing what was happening at their rear.


    It didn¡¯t matter right now, though. Bernt needed to find a way back, and he needed to do it right now.


    Going through his bag again, he tried to come up with possible solutions. There had to be something he could do.


    He¡¯d brought some food and water, but not enough to stay here for days¡ªnot that he had that kind of time anyway. He also had more bandages, a cloak, his shoddy old wand, his iron ring, and the healing potion Therion had given him.


    After a moment of consideration, he pulled out the wand.


    It really did look terrible compared to his pyromancer¡¯s wand, but it was a better general focus than his ring. He wondered if it really had been made by a goblin¡ªmaybe Grixit himself. It certainly looked like something he would make.


    ¡°Jori, can you keep an eye out, out in the tunnel?¡± he whispered. ¡°I¡¯m going to try something.¡±


    He didn¡¯t need to talk to Jori out loud to communicate, but he thought she understood him a little bit more when he did. With a quiet chitter, she disappeared around the corner as Bernt raised the wand. He felt slightly better, knowing that she was with him and keeping an eye out. He knew she probably wasn¡¯t that much help down here beyond her ability to see in the dark, but she was a comfortable and familiar presence in a terrifying situation.


    Bernt took a deep breath and raised his wand.


    This alcove would work as well as anywhere else¡ªat least the kobolds wouldn¡¯t find it right away. Concentrating, he began casting the same tunneling spell he¡¯d used to create the dungeon entrance earlier that day.


    If he couldn¡¯t get back to his other tunnel, maybe he could just make a new one from here directly to the surface.


    He wasn¡¯t sure if it would work¡ªhe didn¡¯t know how far down he was. The tunnels sloped slightly downward from the entrance, but maybe he could just tunnel out directly from here. He couldn¡¯t be that far from the surface, right? He was certain that he was well outside the city, so he¡¯d probably just pop out in a field somewhere¡­ unless he was under the river right now. But that would have to be some absolutely terrible luck.


    It was worth the risk, he was sure.


    ***


    After what felt like an hour later, Bernt sagged to the floor, exhausted, with a small flame flickering in the air over his shoulder to light his surroundings¡ªhis torch spell. It was a spell he¡¯d invented early on in his days at the academy because it was easier for him than a traditional magelight. It couldn¡¯t possibly have been unique, but it hadn¡¯t been in his textbook, so he¡¯d cobbled it together himself. Fire magic always came naturally to him.


    Unfortunately, he¡¯d discovered the hard way, early on in his career as an Underkeeper, that walking around with an open flame in a sewer was a terrible idea. At least until you knew exactly which portions were and weren¡¯t properly ventilated.


    A new tunnel sloped upward from where he¡¯d started, small and narrow, but passable. It pointed toward where he thought the city would be and was nearly two hundred paces long.


    He still hadn¡¯t hit the surface.


    It was exhausting work, and he had to stop every time another patrol came by. The tunneling process wasn¡¯t loud compared to traditional pick-and-shovel work, but it wasn¡¯t silent, either.


    Jori would see any patrols coming, so it wasn¡¯t a problem, but it slowed him down all the same. Not that he had the energy to continue much longer as it was. Pushing his exhaustion to the back of his mind, Bernt moved up to the smooth stone at the end of the tunnel again and began channeling the tunneling spell one more time.


    Stone moved away from in front of him, slowly pushing outward. It was slower now than before, as if the rock didn¡¯t want to compress any further to make room for the tunnel. Bernt didn¡¯t know what to make of that¡ªhe wasn¡¯t a miner or a geologist¡ªbut he did his best to push through it. It would get easier again, he was sure.


    Then, suddenly, he felt a breeze against his face. He¡¯d made it!


    Collecting himself, he kept the spell going. He didn¡¯t want dirt and rock to fall back in on him from an unstable tunnel mouth. It was pitch dark out there. Was it night already? It couldn¡¯t be¡­


    No matter. He needed to get back into the city and report to the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. He wasn¡¯t sure if they would listen to him, since he wasn¡¯t supposed to be in the dungeon at all, but he could probably get Ed to vouch for him. Though that would be another problem¡ªhe doubted his boss would approve of his illegal venture into a dungeon.


    But Ed would believe him, at least. That was what mattered now.


    He gave his bond to Jori a mental tug and stepped out through the hole onto smooth stone.


    Bernt froze and looked around, heart sinking in dawning realization.


    This wasn¡¯t the surface.


    It was another chamber. A higher floor somewhere up in the kobolds¡¯ warren. He¡¯d come so far¡­ how was this possible?


    Pushing down that sense of despair, Bernt looked around. The space was quite a bit nicer than the one he¡¯d just left. The walls had been worked smooth, and it all felt¡­ older, somehow. Pouring a bit more mana into his torch spell, he entered the room.


    It was piled full of stuff. Shelves filled with sketchy-looking potions that were definitely expired, a pile of beetle-carapace helmets, small barrels, and other items that he supposed a tribe of kobolds might hoard were stacked against one side. He was lucky he¡¯d come out where he had; otherwise, all this stuff would have fallen in on him. The entire place was covered in dust and had an abandoned air to it. He turned, looking for the door, when his breath caught.


    An old wooden door stood half-open, as if someone had halfheartedly moved to close it on their way out and then never returned. But, piled behind it and spilling out onto the floor, Bernt saw a small mountain of crumbling books and scrolls.

 15. Orens Near Win

    ¡°Godsdamned spawn of lizardman whores!¡± Oren swore in strangled agony as he hobbled back down the tunnel as fast as his legs could carry him, straight toward the sound of oncoming kobolds. This was the fourth secret access tunnel to the main entrance he¡¯d found, and the first one where he hadn¡¯t even made it past the first layer of traps. Now he had three narrow wooden spikes embedded in his intestines. Regardless of that complication, he needed to be the first to reach the upcoming corner.


    The sound of footsteps and the yipping Draconic of the kobolds echoed toward him.


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s dead? I hope it¡¯s not a whole group again.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a coward. If they cut through us, they¡¯ll be stopped by the next patrol.¡±


    Oren reached the corner as they drew near, pressed himself to the inside corner of the tunnel, and covered himself with his elven scout¡¯s cloak, which adapted to the surrounding lighting, color, and texture. He held his breath and tried not to notice the feeling of his stomach acid burning its way through his guts. He shivered a bit at the kobolds¡¯ words. The little shits had practically no instinct for self-preservation, and that was what made them so ridiculously dangerous. It was something about their stupid religion, he knew, but that only made it creepier.


    Seven kobolds ran by, and momentum kept them moving along the outside of the curve. Oren waited until the footsteps faded before he reached up to carefully pull out each of the wooden stakes buried in his stomach and ribs. He shivered in disgust on seeing the sticky brown kobold shit still smeared along the coarse wood grain of each one. This would take a proper healing potion.


    What an absolute disaster. His entire party was captured or dead, and he was sitting around, burning through his most expensive items with nothing to show for it. For a bunch of kobolds!


    It took a minute for his only superior healing potion to purge the wood fragments and¡­ other substances from his closing wounds, and he took the time to reflect on his strategy. There was a system of hidden access tunnels that led to the main exit tunnel, which the kobolds had dug under the city wall a few days ago. Every access tunnel he had tried was guarded by a winged kobold sorcerer and ten fighters. He thought there couldn¡¯t possibly be enough of them to cover every entrance this way, but he had checked three of them and failed to make it that far into the fourth.


    Now that his potion was gone, he couldn¡¯t make a gamble like this again. He wouldn¡¯t be able to get word to the guild by himself, and that meant going back for one of the mages. He knew Bernt had escaped the fight, but there was no telling where he was now, if he hadn¡¯t been captured. It would be much easier to find the prison. It was time to see if Therion was still alive.


    ____


    Oren backtracked until he found a moderately sized chamber formed by the intersection of three tunnels.


    He didn¡¯t enter right away. There was something wrong here. He couldn¡¯t detect any traps in the room, and that concerned him more than anything. Oren decided to wait back inside the tunnel for the next group of kobolds, covering himself with his cloak again and leaving just a slit to see out of. Hopefully the next patrol would show him how to get through.


    It didn¡¯t take long, just a few minutes, before he heard voices again. Squeaky draconic voices. ¡°Oh boy! Auntie Dudru, will we get to fight the gnome? Are the giant humans scary? Can the elves really turn you inside out with a word?¡±


    ¡°Shush now! We¡¯re just going to get some meat for his Fearsomeness. You might see the new prisoners if you peek into the other room, but don¡¯t be too obvious or the All-Watcher will punish you. Maybe if there is a dead human or dwarf, they will share some with us before we go back.¡±


    An adult kobold with polished-looking blue scales stepped into the chamber. She walked a very specific snaking route on the floor that ended with a hop as she entered the opposing tunnel, imitated to perfection by each of the smaller kobolds behind her. At the end was a cute little purple runt with eyes half the size of its face. Oren had always wanted a pet kobold. They were vicious little fuckers.


    Hopefully the new prisoners would be what was left of his party. He leapt to a spot on the floor the kobolds had stepped on and mimicked their path, including the little hop at the end, into the next tunnel. Keeping some distance to avoid detection, he tracked the group until they started yapping again, a bit too far away to understand.


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    He approached slowly and carefully until he reached the entrance to a chamber off to the side and down. The kobolds were further down the tunnel, presumably in another chamber, but this one caught his attention because it had a decently sized fire, a large iron cooking pot, and a rack of severed body parts. One kobold was humming merrily as he stirred the pot while a truly unusual-looking kobold stood to the side, staring into the flames. This kobold, if it could be called one, was massive, easily the size of a human. It stood with folded wings, and the firelight glittered off of its scales and horns as it seemed to brood. It held a staff intricately inscribed with tiny sigils that had been burned in all along the wood.


    This did not seem like a fight Oren wanted, and he would have walked away, but there was also a heavy door at the opposite end, the first he had seen in this entire place¡ªand a pile of equipment that included Furin¡¯s club. A good rogue had his means, and if this was the time to cash out some of his investments for the sake of survival¡ªand maybe a fat reward from Therion¡¯s parents¡ªthen he could live with it.


    He crept back up the tunnel to find a good nook where he could hide for a while and pulled out a slim wooden box. With a flick of his dagger, he pricked the back of his forearm and pressed the blood to the wood. Then he opened the lid. Inside was a shadow, if a shadow could be a three-dimensional object. It was a broken-off stinger as long as his hand with an ethereal sac still protruding from the blunt end. He carefully picked it up at the sac end, stuck the box back in his pocket, and hid himself in his cloak to wait out the other group of kobolds. He would need to pick his moment.


    ***


    Snolo loved his job. He took a deep sniff of his elf stew and sighed in contentment. With the mushrooms from the lower caverns, a bit of adventurer hardtack and a generous stack of delicious surface herbs, this would likely be the finest meal he had ever served. Kekri was upset that four of his sorcerers had died today after Conperion had denied her request for permission to strengthen the defensive patrols. Anyone else would have felt no shame at being unable to fathom the wisdom of the Great Lord, but Kekri had always been special¡ªand she¡¯d always been hard on herself as a result. This meal would make her forget about that, though, he was sure.


    Snolo turned to the large kobold and bowed low. ¡°Your Gloriousness, dinner is served. I believe you will be very pleased.¡± He came up from his bow and froze.


    At the far side of the hall, where Kekri¡¯s shadow stretched along the wall, a human hand came swiftly and smoothly out of nowhere and jabbed a spike of¡­ darkness¡­ into the flickering shape. The dragon-blooded sorcerer gasped and seized. As the hand squeezed the spike, Kekri groaned with wide eyes that didn¡¯t seem to see him anymore.


    He froze in horror and caught just a glint of metal and a brief pressure on his forehead before nothingness claimed him.


    ***


    Oren planted his boot firmly on the cook¡¯s face as he wrenched the knife free on the third try. He couldn¡¯t believe neither of them had made a sound. There had been time for it, but surprise could do that, he supposed.


    The fancy draconic-looking kobold finally had some valuables, too. A thick golden chain, silver earrings, gaudy bracelets with sapphires in them, and even a tiara studded with emeralds. It wouldn¡¯t be enough to pay for the shadow-corrupted manticore spike, but it was still pretty good.


    He wrapped the items in cloth to keep them from clanking and put them in his loot bag. Then he pulled out his picks and went to the door, only to find that it was closed with a simple deadbolt.


    He hesitated again. Too easy. He was pretty sure there weren¡¯t any traps out here, though¡­


    If there were kobolds guarding the other side, he would have to fight them fairly. That would not be optimal. Would they really have more after that sorcerer, though? Hm¡­


    Oren had to risk it. He held his best dagger in one hand and his throwing knife in the other, and then quickly slid open the deadbolt and yanked the door open.


    Directly across from him, he saw iron bars and Therion¡¯s surprised face staring back at him.


    Relief flooded him for a moment, before he heard movement to the right. In front of the right-hand cells, there was a kobold waving with its fingers and looking at him with a wide grin.


    Clearly he was very friendly.


    ¡°Hello, my friend. Welcome to our special little group!¡± it yipped gently. Wow, what a relief to finally find a friendly kobold.


    ¡°Hey guys, I didn¡¯t know there were friendly kobolds in here!¡± He turned left, where Therion held his face in both hands and Furin¡¯s blood-matted face was fixed into a dark scowl.


    ¡°You daft goblin-shite-eating idiot, that¡¯s a spell!¡±


    That greatly confused Oren. There was no way his old kobold friend would cast a spell on him. What was his name? Why didn¡¯t he know his friend¡¯s name?


    ¡°Here, why don¡¯t you drink this and take a nap.¡± The kobold held out a little clay vial.


    A gift! What a nice thing to do. He was so tired after all that running, he could sleep anywhere at this point. He grabbed it, broke the little clay seal, and swallowed the liquid. It burned a bit in his throat, but pleasantly so, and it really made the ground feel a lot more comfortable. How had he ended up on the ground?


    Mmmh, it just wasn¡¯t important anymore.

 16. One Kobolds Trash is Another Mans Treasure

    Bernt carefully picked through the pile, looking for any useful or valuable writings. Jori, meanwhile, was trying on one of the kobold helmets, which immediately slipped over her eyes. She panicked, tripped over herself and fell with a clatter. The helmet fell off her head in the process, and she followed it as it rolled away, kicking at it with a hiss.


    Many of the books and scrolls were in languages he didn¡¯t recognize, though most were in the common language of the realm, and others in dialects of Dwarvish and Elvish that he recognized, but couldn¡¯t read. Still, he could tell that the majority were old letters, ledgers, and other worthless texts. But he¡¯d also found a few scrolls containing spell diagrams¡ªmostly for simple and familiar spells that he¡¯d learned in the academy.


    One more complex spell scroll looked interesting, but he couldn¡¯t tell what it was for because it was written in a language he¡¯d never seen before. He slipped it into his bag. There was also a spell scroll for something called ¡°cold fire.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure what the point of that might be, but he kept it anyway. If he wanted to become a powerful pyromancer, he needed to learn everything he could about magical fire, even if it didn¡¯t seem obviously useful now. In the end, he also packed up most of the other spell scrolls, though he knew they weren¡¯t valuable. Maybe a self-taught hedge mage would buy them.


    He was almost through the entire pile when he finally saw something more promising.


    The leather-bound book wasn¡¯t in great condition, lying open and face down on the ground, pages bent awkwardly underneath it. The cover was inscribed with an odd spell diagram almost like two spells laid on top of one another. It didn¡¯t have a title.


    But that spell diagram¡­


    Bernt¡¯s fingers trembled as he picked it up. He¡¯d never seen anything like it.


    Smoothing the bent pages, he flipped through, wanting a clearer description of the diagram on the cover. The book was handwritten haphazardly and without clear organization, like a notebook.


    There were maybe thirty pages, covered in scrawled notes, most of which he couldn¡¯t really make out at a glance. Curious, he flipped to the pages around the diagram, looking for a description. A few pages behind it, he saw a heading in an unfamiliar, archaic form of Beseri. It read, ¡°Transmutaeren.¡±


    Bernt didn¡¯t know much about older dialects, but he could guess what that meant. Some aspiring wizard¡ªsomeone with deep theoretical knowledge, if the diagrams were any indication¡ªhad tried to invent a spell to transmute matter.


    Transmutation was an alchemical discipline. No one, as far as he knew, could transmute with magic directly.


    He tried to read the first line and it was¡­ work. The words were spelled strangely, and some were entirely unfamiliar.


    ¡°Transmutaeren, theagh it be arduous for to cast, giveth mihtige forthd?de un to that caster, wilchan those unmihtigan, lytel folkes can niht dreamen.¡±


    It certainly sounded like a wizard¡ªa mage researcher who developed new spells and explored new applications of magic. Many of his more advanced textbooks at the Mages¡¯ Academy were written in a similar tone. Wizards were always self-important types who thought they were single-handedly going to find the key to godhood. It was irritating, but that didn¡¯t make their knowledge any less valuable.


    He flipped back to the diagram, trying to make sense of it.


    It really was two spells layered on top of one another, but they were supposed to be cast simultaneously as a single spell.


    It was ridiculously complex. A mage would need both hands to keep just one layer of the spell straight. Who was this person? Did they have four arms?


    Casting multiple spells wasn¡¯t too difficult¡ªmany mages could do it. But usually it was done in sequence, maintaining one while casting the next. This spell was a theoretical exercise, at best. It probably didn¡¯t even work. The writer of this thing had tried, but if they¡¯d succeeded, this book wouldn¡¯t have been buried in a scrap heap. A knowledge-obsessed dragon wouldn¡¯t leave something like that lying around, right?


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    Disappointed, Bernt put the book in his bag anyway. It wasn¡¯t lost or secret magic, but it was written by a mage with far more skill, theoretical knowledge and spellcrafting experience than himself. He could probably learn a lot from it, if he ever found the time to analyze it.


    He shook his head and leaned back against the stone wall, frustrated. He didn¡¯t know what he had been expecting. This was probably a dump or an abandoned storage room. Neither the dragon nor the kobolds would have considered anything here valuable.


    Jori scampered up to him and chirped inquisitively before plopping herself down on the ground next to him.


    ¡°I need to take a break,¡± Bernt told her. ¡°We can keep tunneling up from here in a few hours, until we make it out. We can¡¯t be that far down, right?¡±


    He tried to work out a rough estimation of his current depth, but he didn¡¯t know the gradient of the tunnels, or how far he was from the entrance. The tunnel he¡¯d just made was relatively steep and rose maybe twenty strides up. If there were more chambers and tunnels up here, though, he couldn¡¯t be close to the surface yet.


    ***


    Jori yawned, stretching back to try to reach an annoying itch between her wings. She was exhausted. They¡¯d been down here for a long time, and she wanted to go home and curl up next to the warm oven with something tasty. Instead, they were stuck down here in this dusty hole that smelled like stupid lizards. She¡¯d found a pretty big chunk of molted scaly skin in one of the corners, and it tasted even worse than it smelled. Bah!


    She knew it might be a long time before she got her wish. Bernt was running from the bad lizards, the ones that took all of his friends. He needed help. She didn¡¯t understand what he wanted with all this paper stuff. Before, he wanted to get outside. He¡¯d thought they were outside, she knew, but then they were here instead.


    And then he¡¯d started digging around in the mountain of paper. He was looking for something. She was pretty sure he didn¡¯t find it. Now he was just sitting around. He felt tired, just like she did.


    But she could smell something there, in the papers.


    It smelled good. Familiar, even.


    It smelled like home.


    ***


    Bernt watched, smiling to himself as Jori chittered and dug herself into the pile of books and loose scrolls as if she were making a nest. He let her. Better than when he caught her chewing on some ancient-looking hide, or when she was trying to get into those old potions earlier. He didn¡¯t know what they were, exactly, but expired potions could have dangerous and unpredictable effects.


    A scroll hit Bernt in the face as Jori began flinging things behind her, out of the pile, making an odd cackling sound.


    ¡°Jori,¡± Bernt grumbled at her, ¡°what in the nine hells are you doing?¡±


    With a grunt, the little imp dragged something out of the pile, pulling at it with all her strength. It was a heavy tome, bound in leather and scratched up badly. Even closed, the pages were visibly damaged and yellowed.


    Taking pity on Jori, Bernt leaned over and picked it up. The cover had a pentagram and a title written in an unfamiliar dialect of Dwarvish. Worse, the symbol on the front clearly marked it as a demonology text.


    It didn¡¯t really matter if it was a ritual spellbook or a historical text¡ªthere was no way he could sell it without drawing unfriendly attention from both the City Guard and the Mages¡¯ Guild. Both were required to keep track of all warlock-related activity for the king, and selling this would automatically make him a suspect every time anything remotely infernal happened anywhere in the region. Some of the temples might even take notice. He didn¡¯t want that kind of attention¡ªespecially not if word got out that he had a demonic familiar.


    He moved to toss it back on the pile, but Jori hissed at him, putting a clawed little hand on the book to keep him from moving it. She jumped up and down excitedly, chittering. She wanted him to look at it. He felt her focus on the bond. There was something in there for him. For her.


    Bernt sighed. Was she trying to get him to form a demonic pact? He wouldn¡¯t do it. Any sane mage was suspicious of any demonic pact, and the stigma associated with warlocks would effectively kill any hopes for becoming a real adventurer. Most quest givers wanted nothing to do with warlocks, and no one in their right mind would form a party with one.


    He tried to communicate his feelings to her through the bond, but she wasn¡¯t having it.


    Jori radiated indignation and chittered at him some more, talking now. As usual, she only talked in general impressions. She was telling him that it wasn¡¯t about any contracts. She wanted to learn for herself. Secrets about the other place. From before.


    Bernt sighed. Surely, there was no way that could go terribly wrong.


    Jori huffed, putting her hands on her hips as she glared at him. She looked comical and cute, more than anything, but he had a direct line to her thoughts, so he understood that to her, this was serious.


    She chittered at him angrily. She had a right to know what was in there!


    He hesitated for another second, then put the book in his bag.


    Jori was his familiar. As far as the Mages¡¯ Academy taught, that made her a tool¡ªspecifically, a tool for a warlock, but that was neither here nor there. She¡¯d been there, working the sewers with him for years now. He would have already died down in these tunnels without her.


    Admittedly, she¡¯d also eaten a creature¡¯s soul, but nobody was perfect, right? She wasn¡¯t just a tool¡ªshe was a friend. She deserved a little trust.

 17. Reconnaisance

    Bernt wasn¡¯t sure when he fell asleep, but he woke to find Jori pawing at his face, her sharp nails raking over his cheek.


    He groaned, trying to push her off, but she put both hands over his mouth, muffling the sound. That was when he finally recognized the tension emanating from her. She was scared. Just as tellingly, she wasn¡¯t making a sound.


    They were in danger.


    Standing up slowly, Bernt pressed himself against the wall and pulled out his pyromancer¡¯s wand. He strained, trying to sense whatever it was Jori sensed. When that didn¡¯t work, he tried using his familiar bond instead.


    He couldn¡¯t hear anything, but Jori could, and it was getting louder. At first it was just a soft patter; then it resolved into the scratch of clawed feet on stone. Something was coming¡ªa lot of somethings.


    Wildly, Bernt looked around, but there was nowhere to hide. If they came in here, they would find the tunnel he¡¯d made. And then they¡¯d find him. He held his breath as they approached, trying not to make any noise.


    Seconds later, he nearly sighed out loud in relief when he realized that the sound was now getting further away. They weren¡¯t passing by his door at all, but rather moving through a nearby tunnel.


    Letting his breath out as slowly as possible, he sagged to the floor. There was sweat down his back, and he suddenly felt cold. But it was alright, he was safe for the moment.


    Of course, that was also the moment Jori flitted out the door, toward the sound.


    Bernt clenched his jaw to resist the urge to call after her. She was being reckless, but he couldn¡¯t stop her, not without a proper demonic pact. Also, they did need to know what was going on here, and Jori was much better at this sort of thing than he was. Closing his eyes, he focused on her to see through her eyes.


    ***


    Jori scampered up the rough stone wall, digging her claws in for a good grip as she advanced toward the bad lizards. She didn¡¯t know much about these specific ones, but most creatures didn¡¯t look up as much as they should. She always felt safer when she was higher up than whatever she was observing.


    The corridor outside was a dead end with a few doors along its walls. They didn¡¯t smell interesting, and the sound was getting away, so she moved toward the main tunnel and poked her head around the corner.


    There was nothing to see here but bare walls, but she could still hear them, so she followed after.


    They weren¡¯t moving very quickly, and she saw the dim light of their crystal lanterns ahead less than a minute later. It was a small group, and none of them were wearing the hard beetle parts of the others before. They were also smaller than those others, probably young ones, and following a single adult.


    As she watched them, the smallest one started chattering at the others in a high-pitched, yappy kind of language. Another one answered sharply and smacked the little lizard thing. The rest snickered. A moment after that, silence fell again.


    She felt a little bit bad for it. She knew what it was like, always being the smallest. Back home, in the place before, imps were the smallest¡ªfood for the fiends.


    The group of spawnlings kept walking for a few more minutes before reaching another intersection¡ªmore of a big square, really, with big pillars and lots of tunnel entrances. Here, there were more lights and many more lizard things.


    That wasn¡¯t so good, Jori decided. This was too many. Besides, she¡¯d seen enough. Bernt wanted to know where they went. Now he would know. She should leave.


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    Just then, though, she heard a new sound¡ªnot the lizards¡¯ yapping noises, but human voices. Shrinking further back into the shadows of the tunnel, she looked for the source.


    Then she saw it. Two humans were walking behind one of the winged lizard things. It carried a staff, and the humans seemed very interested in it. They must have been old, with gray in their hair, and neither were restrained. Something was wrong with them, though. Normal humans were always looking at each other, or they were looking at other things to avoid looking at each other. These ones just looked toward the lizard¡¯s staff, but not really at it, either. They were staring at nothing. Every few seconds, the winged lizard yapped something at them, and they answered, sort of dreamlike.


    Jori didn¡¯t know what all this meant. But she was sure Bernt would know what to do. Hissing to herself in quiet satisfaction, she turned and scampered back the way she came.


    ***


    Back in the storage chamber, Bernt sat wondering what this meant. The kobold sorcerers were enthralling prisoners using some charm or mind control spell. But for what? Were they trying to get information about Halfbridge¡¯s defenses? They¡¯d already lost the element of surprise¡ªit seemed more than a bit late for this kind of intelligence gathering.


    Alternatively, they might want information about the invading adventurers or the guild. Maybe. That didn¡¯t feel right either, though. The kobolds had been ready for them. For all Bernt knew, they¡¯d mined out that entire lower level as a battleground, leaving their young and their treasure protected up above.


    That presented him with a dilemma. If the kobolds or their dragon master were trying to get specific information out of the captive adventurers, then rescuing them might be very time-sensitive. He had no way of knowing how long it would take to tunnel out of the dungeon, and taking that time might be a big risk.


    Alternatively, he could try to free the prisoners himself¡ªor at least someone who could help him get out more quickly. But that might be an even greater risk. He had no idea where the prisoners were being held, or if he could even reach them.


    In the end, he could only do so much.


    Dragging himself up to his feet, Bernt then made his way past a pile of haphazardly stacked beetle-carapace armor to a back corner of the room. Then he raised his wand and started tunneling again.


    Digging his way out of the dungeon was the only reasonably safe way to make sure that the city and the guild heard what was happening in here, and he didn¡¯t have a moment to lose.


    ***


    Jori crawled along the ceiling as quietly as possible. Stupid groups of lizards kept getting in the way. Over and over she had to go back, go around, hide, and wait.


    So annoying.


    Bernt felt distant through the bond, like he was concentrating on other things, but she could sense him well enough to use his position to orient herself. Mostly. She wasn¡¯t really sure which tunnel she was in now, and she had been trying to get back for a while now. She knew which direction to go¡ªand she would go, just as soon as the stupid noisy yappy kobold-food went away. She bared her teeth and hissed in frustration, then went dead still as she heard familiar youthful yapping.


    The older one with her team of spawnlings turned a corner, pulling a squeaky mining cart by a long rope. It was piled high with corpses¡ªmore of the lizard creatures. As they passed underneath her, she could smell it. A warm, spicy¡­ something, wafting up from the dead. She need-wanted it. It made her¡­ thirsty. Or something.


    Jori couldn¡¯t leave it behind. She crept along at a distance, but never let the cart out of her sight. She was going the wrong way, she knew. She could feel the bond getting weaker. But she knew where he was. He¡¯d be fine, and she¡¯d find him again.


    The kobolds always walked so funny in their strange little patterns on the floor, weird little hops in random places, but she needed to focus.


    She followed them for what felt like a long time, winding through tunnels and intersections.


    As she passed by another opening, she threw a quick glance inside as she always did, to make sure no one saw her. This time, though, something was different and she froze in instinctive terror. A wall of dark-purple scales moved on the other side, and she heard the rumble of a huge, deep voice. As it shifted, she caught a glimpse of a single, massive foot, each toe ending in a razor-sharp claw longer than she was tall.


    That was a very big lizard thing! The cart turned a corner ahead and Jori dashed past the opening to catch up, still shaking.


    For once, she was relieved at how small she was¡ªsomething that big would never take notice of her. Right?

 18. A Feast of Souls

    The lizards were dragging the corpses off of the cart and into a room when Jori caught up. The adult lizard yipped and yapped loudly for a moment before it walked off and left the youngsters to their task.


    The little purple-scaled lizard she¡¯d seen before was struggling to move a single corpse, while the others dragged them in one by one until none were left. Then they pulled the cart in, depositing it behind the entrance. This left the little runt huffing, still trying with no success to drag its one corpse in as the others watched. The bigger spawnlings giggled and yipped at the runt until one stepped forward and gave it a sudden vicious kick so hard that it dropped its burden and landed on its tail.


    Jori bared her fangs and hissed. Bad spawnling!


    Another stepped forward, and the whole group started beating the hapless creature. Jori had seen enough. She launched herself forward along the ceiling with a few quiet strides and then pushed off with both legs to tackle that first lizard.


    The bully buckled under the impact. She bit down hard on its shoulder, but was disappointed to find that she couldn¡¯t bite through its tough scales. She wrenched her head side to side, held on with both hands, and scratched at its body with her legs as it yowled.


    Something hit her in the face, and she lost her grip, tumbling away. Quickly she hopped back up and raised her claws. She was surrounded.


    Maybe this wasn¡¯t such a great idea.


    Then she heard the little runt whimpering, still on the ground, and long-repressed indignation and anger bloomed in her heart.


    Jori hissed viciously at the pack of spawnlings and they flinched back. A couple yipped in fear and ran while the one she had bitten backed away cautiously.


    She turned to face each one as they yapped and yipped and backed away until they were all gone, and then it was just the little purple lizard curled on the ground next to her, looking at her cautiously with wide eyes. Good enough. This one wouldn¡¯t stop her, she¡¯d saved it. That made it hers, or something.


    She marched into the food chamber. There were so many! Thirty, maybe forty dead lizards were piled into the room. Jori felt her eyes heat up in anticipation. She hopped up onto a pile of them, focused on the one in front of her, and inhaled sharply through her nose. What was hiding inside responded to her intent, coming slowly at first, and then breaking free. Within a second, the ghostly white mist was drawn from its mouth and flowed into her mouth and nose.


    Oooooh! She shuddered. That felt incredible. It was like having the best rat jerky after a long hungry day of working, or waking up on a hot summer day in the sun. The room seemed brighter, sounds clearer, and her mind sharper. Jori moved to the next one, but hesitated and looked up.


    The little purple runt was staring from the entrance with its mouth open, fascinated and only a little fearful. Jori hopped down off the pile and behind it, where she wouldn¡¯t be seen by a random passerby, and resumed her feast.


    By the tenth body, she realized something strange was happening to her. A faint glow under her skin was tracing a complex network of organic-looking lines. She had never seen inside her own body before. How interesting.


    Jori pricked her forearm over a glowing line experimentally, and when she withdrew her claw, it welled with glowing blood. Exposed to air, it quickly ignited and burned, cleaning off her claw, sealing the little wound, and filling the chamber with a strangely metallic burnt sulfur smell.


    She cocked her head, examining the burnt dot on her skin. That hadn¡¯t ever happened before.


    For a moment, she wondered if all this was something she should be doing. Then she shrugged. She was still thirsty for more.


    Clambering behind another pile of bodies, she drew out more of the incredible essence. She drained four more bodies before she started to feel a strange pressure pushing against her from the inside. After that, taking in the essence was harder, but she didn¡¯t want to stop. She managed two more after that, but by then the glow under her skin was starting to light up the room around her.


    That¡­ wasn¡¯t right. She looked down at herself, feeling a little annoyed. This wouldn¡¯t be very sneaky on the way back. Her little purple friend sat in the corner with her and marveled at her light, but was otherwise quiet.


    She could see the shadow of her bones within her illuminated hand. More strangely, there were shadows traced within the network of glowing blood vessels that curled and looped in unnatural patterns, each one branching off of one of the glowing lines. They looked oddly familiar, a little like the drawings in Bernt¡¯s books, but without any straight lines¡ªthey were more organic.


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    Jori lifted a clawed foot and held it up to her face, squinting at it curiously. As far as she could see, it was the same all over her body. That pressure was at each of those lit-up points where her blood vessels connected to the shadowy patterns.


    She still wanted more, but she was also getting scared of the pressure.


    Then again, she couldn¡¯t stop now and go into the tunnels like this. None of the demons in the place before had walked around glowing like this, she was sure, so maybe the light would go away soon. And it couldn¡¯t really be bad for her. It was too tasty!


    Decision made, she went to the third and largest pile and picked another one. She sensed the misty, glowing power clearly now, and tried to pull it into herself. It quivered, but she couldn¡¯t quite tear it free. Maybe she was too tired?


    But she couldn¡¯t wait around. There wasn¡¯t time. Someone would be here again soon, she was sure.


    She tried again, more urgently this time, and felt it as the essence moved. It crept upward and out of the kobold¡¯s mouth, but still didn¡¯t quite want to come all the way up to her. Impatiently, she leaned down and snatched it up with her mouth. As her teeth clicked together, agony tore through her.


    The pressure felt like it was tearing through her insides. Her muscles spasmed painfully and she fell to her knees. Lowering herself to the ground, she concentrated on relaxing her twitching muscles, releasing the pressure in her veins.


    She normally had great control of her body, but it was much harder now. It took almost a minute lying down, enduring the pain and relaxing each muscle one at a time, to finally relieve the tearing sensation. Slowly, she worked to regain control over her body until the pain was only coming from those glowing lines. Then she tried to relax those as well, and to her great surprise, succeeded. With all of them, all at once.


    Glowing blood rushed into dormant channels, lighting up the previously dark spellforms with reddish light. Then every drop of blood in those linked spellforms ignited and melted her flesh in a torrent of incandescent hellfire.


    Jori tried to scream but had no lungs or throat to do so. Her vision, hearing, sense of touch, and smell and taste all disappeared entirely alongside the pain, and for a very long moment she thought she had entered an eternity of absolute nothingness, drifting in an endless void. Then, just as suddenly, pain returned, and with it all the other senses¡ªfirst hearing, then sight, smell, taste, and finally touch.


    As soon as she could draw breath to whimper, the pain disappeared. She felt¡­ cheated somehow. Such horrific agony should be expressed. Now she could, but it didn¡¯t hurt anymore, so the time for that drama had passed. Jori sat up. The purple runt flinched away. He was standing very close. His eyes were huge and round and he was shaking just a little.


    Wait, did the runt shrink?


    Jori looked down at herself. She was taller! Her skin had become a darker shade of red, and her claws were a bit longer and darker as well. She also wasn¡¯t glowing anymore, which was a relief. With a shiver, she spread her leathery wings, stretching them out to their full, now much broader wingspan.


    But now she was thirsty all over again. Even more so, if anything. Absently, she inhaled, yanking at the power that lingered in the nearest body. To her shock, the misty essence tore free of all twelve of the remaining corpses.


    It felt like barely a taste. How disappointing! Had they gone bad?


    She shook her head. This wasn¡¯t the time. She didn¡¯t want to go through that again anytime soon anyway. Just imagining that horrifying melting sensation made her want to claw her own brain out and stomp the memory to death. She could not do that again.


    Looking down at herself again, Jori did a double take. There was no illumination from her flesh or anything around her, but she clearly saw the network of veins in her body now, even deep inside. It was completely different now, and it held quite a lot of that essence.


    It ran all through her body, except in her left hand. She could feel it there in her wrist, dammed up against one of those connection points, blocked out of another one of those shadowy patterns.


    Before she could change her mind, Jori focused on relaxing first her muscles and then the obstruction in her vein. The blood flowed in and it ignited painfully, the pattern in her body complete, but it didn¡¯t melt her hand down this time.


    She held a handful of unnatural reddish flame. It dripped out like a liquid and smelled like iron and sulfur¡ªlike the place before.


    With a start, Jori realized: this stuff was hot! She shook her hand in panic, trying to get the rest off. The liquid hellfire flew off of her hand easily, striking one of the piles of corpses¡­ and going right through it. A smoldering hole of char gave a view of her weirdly liquid fire merrily burning on a growing puddle of melted rock.


    A whimper brought her back to reality, and Jori turned to the little runt in the corner, who was pressing himself against the wall, away from her. At the same time, her newly improved ears twitched at the sound of dozens of distant footsteps. She sprang forward, seized the little runt, and yanked him out of the chamber into the tunnel. With no real idea of where to take him, she just dragged him around the next corner and patted his head in what she hoped might be encouragement.


    Then she scrambled her way up the wall and along the ceiling. It felt awkward with her new proportions, but she could still do it. A feeling of triumph filled her. She had FEASTED, and she had become¡­ more. A feral grin spread across her face.


    That expression promptly froze as she felt a very odd sensation in her bond. Bernt was trying to summon her. He was afraid, panicked. He was trying to see through her eyes, but she was too far away. Her heart sped up as she felt a looming sense of impending disaster. She needed to get back, and quickly!

 19. A Demons Rescue

    Bernt launched a fireball down the narrow tunnel, right down the sharp-toothed maw of the approaching kobold. It impacted with a dull whomp, blowing the creature¡¯s burning, now-headless corpse back into the storage chamber, where it crashed into a pile of loose beetle armor.


    More kobolds were calling to each other from just outside the tunnel, but they kept out of his line of sight. He was cornered, and the short stretch of tunnel he¡¯d created so far was suddenly sweltering hot. Casting a full-strength fireball in such a small, enclosed space wasn¡¯t a great idea¡ªhe was lucky he hadn¡¯t cooked himself.


    Bernt gritted his teeth. He¡¯d been working on the tunnel and hadn¡¯t heard it when the patrol approached. Jori was still gone, so she couldn¡¯t warn him either. Questing out to try to sense her, he realized she¡¯d gone quite a distance¡ªthe bond felt weak. He tugged on it mentally, signaling her to come back.


    He felt her alarm as she realized that he was in trouble. It was probably too late now, but he would take all the help he could get. She was moving very quickly¡ªmaybe she¡¯d make it¡­


    Bernt shot a fire dart at another kobold as it poked its head around the corner, but it managed to jump back in time to avoid it.


    He needed to think of something, and fast. If he couldn¡¯t clear out that entire room in the next few moments, he¡¯d be trapped here. There was no telling how long it would take before reinforcements boxed him in. Bernt could only think of one idea, but it was a risk. The last time he¡¯d tried this, he had all the other Underkeepers to provide cover for him.


    Bernt activated his protective amulet and did his best to ignore the prickling sensation of the thorns as he raised a fire shield around himself. It only took a moment, but it was long enough for another kobold, seeing he was busy, to rush into the tunnel.


    He decided to take a chance and ignore the intrusion, already casting his next spell as he walked toward the enemy. His shield grew brighter as its superheated layer of plasma grew hotter and hotter. The smaller creature stabbed at him with a dagger, but ran headlong into the fire shield as it did so and spasmed violently, skewing its aim.


    The dagger poked into his robes, but didn¡¯t break the skin, and the kobold squirmed away, shrieking in pain.


    Then Bernt was through the mouth of his tunnel, back in the chamber. Something hit him hard in the knee, and he felt something pop with a horrible shivering sensation, but at least he¡¯d finished casting his spell. The outer membrane of the fire shield dissipated, releasing a wave of incandescent plasma out in all directions.


    Kobolds were pushed back by the blast wave. Those standing closest to him suffered serious burns and writhed on the ground, while those further back closed their eyes and mouths as they were scorched by the hot air.


    It wouldn¡¯t last long, he knew. The heat would circulate upward into other tunnels, and whatever remained would dissipate into the cool walls. But that still gave him a few seconds.


    He hurried over to the open door, cutting off the kobolds¡¯ escape. As he did, he felt that uncomfortable popping in his knee again, but he didn¡¯t have time to worry about it now.


    Bernt raised his wand toward the enemy as they came at him and cast fire darts as quickly as possible, starting with the kobolds closest to him. It was the fastest combat spell he could muster, but it was only lethal at close range. Even when it didn¡¯t kill, though, it caused horribly deep burns.


    He knew what those felt like and how disabling a serious burn could be¡ªyou couldn¡¯t learn fire magic without burning yourself. At least, he hadn¡¯t.


    But he was too slow with two of the kobolds, who reached him wielding a spear and club. The spear stabbed down into his leg while the club struck him in the head.


    That hurt a lot, and Bernt lost control of the spell he was trying to cast in his assailants¡¯ faces, but he wasn¡¯t seriously injured. He almost had them! Frantic, he lashed out with his bare hands, punching the club-wielding one in the face before kicking awkwardly out at the other.


    Without warning, something snapped in his knee, and the leg he was standing on crumpled underneath him and dumped him on the floor. He gasped, and before he could react, he was hit in the head¡ªthen again and again.


    It felt like a long time before Bernt lost consciousness, but it couldn¡¯t have been more than a few seconds.


    Wits addled by the ongoing beating, Bernt¡¯s thoughts drifted to his thorn skin amulet.


    He was impressed. Grixit really did great enchanting work.


    ***


    Bernt woke with grit in his mouth and an uncomfortable pressure around his wrists. His head was pounding in time with his heartbeat.


    He lurched forward as he was dragged a few steps, the yapping kobold language sounding from all around him. When he came to a stop again, his head lolled, nose and mouth smacking against the stone floor. Tears shot into his eyes, and he could taste blood in his mouth.


    He was face down on the ground, and being pulled down the tunnel by a rope they¡¯d tied around his hands.


    What the hell? He tried to roll over and look around.


    Something kicked him in the side, and one of the kobolds called out. They¡¯d realized he was awake. The rope pulled him forward again as they heaved, and he was dragged once more over the smooth stone floor. This time, he pushed down with his elbows to keep his head up. The rough stone floor against his bare skin didn¡¯t hurt as much as it probably should.


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    That was when he realized why they were using the rope. His thorn skin amulet was still active¡ªfor much longer than advertised¡ªand while kobolds had scaled hides, he doubted their fingers were protected enough to simply grab him with thorns covering every inch of his skin.


    That had to be an advantage he could use. Somehow.


    Another kobold kicked him, and then another. They were jeering at him now, celebrating their victory. There were far more of them now than just those two that beat him back there in the storage chamber.


    They had him. He couldn¡¯t fight his way out of this.


    Twisting again, he tried to take a look at the kobolds around him. The jeering grew louder, and one landed a kick on his stomach this time, but he caught sight of one of the little monsters carrying his bag up ahead.


    He tried to come up with a plan, to think of something¡ªanything that could lead to an escape. Whatever had happened to his wands and his bag, he still had his ring on, and that had to be useful. He could cast cantrips, at least¡ªhe couldn¡¯t move his hands enough for real spells. But what would actually help?


    Fear and anger flashed through him so hot that he gritted his teeth for a moment, and it took him a second to realize that the emotion wasn¡¯t his own. Jori was coming closer, and she was¡­ different. There was a focus to her mind he¡¯d never sensed before, and she was moving fast.


    Mentally, he tried to reassure her. He was still alive, and not in immediate danger. She needed to keep her distance. Jori calmed a little, so he knew that she¡¯d received the message, but she didn¡¯t stop coming.


    The kobolds continued hauling him down the tunnel until they reached an intersection. They stopped there and started arguing amongst themselves. One of the kobolds gestured at him, then at the intersection. Another shook its head, barked a response and pointed back the way they¡¯d come.


    Bernt had spent enough time down here now to guess what was happening. The space ahead was trapped all to hell, and they probably couldn¡¯t drag him through without triggering half a dozen of them. One of them wanted to go around somehow, and another wanted to figure out a way through.


    For a moment, Bernt considered attacking while they were distracted, but the argument was over in just a few seconds. The kobolds dragged him back a little ways, hauled him into a doorless chamber and dumped him on the ground. Two stood inside the opening, spears lowered at him, clearly threatening.


    Were they going to disable the traps? Or just save themselves the trouble and kill him here? They¡¯d gone to a lot of trouble to take prisoners before, so he hoped they wouldn¡¯t do anything rash now. His heart started pounding again, aggravating his pounding headache.


    Jori was close now¡ªhe saw through her eyes that she was scampering along the tunnel ceiling. It was a disorienting perspective, but he maintained his focus on the bond. She was hiding in shadowed corners and cracks, then brazenly climbing along the ceiling right over the kobolds¡¯ heads. Bernt tried to figure out how she knew when they were or weren¡¯t looking, but he just couldn¡¯t tell, despite his access to her senses. It was impressive to watch.


    Now she was looking at a tunnel intersection much like the one his kidnappers had turned back from. She was looking for something, though Bernt didn¡¯t know what.


    A moment later, she turned around, scampering back a short way. Then she screeched.


    Bernt heard it in his makeshift cell. She was nearby. The kobolds perked up.


    Over by Jori, a single kobold ran up to investigate and immediately saw her clinging to the ceiling¡ªshe was making no effort to hide at all. Bernt¡¯s heart seized in his chest. She was about to get herself killed. What was she doing?


    Bernt looked at his captors, trying to think of a way to help. They were no longer watching him. Jori, meanwhile, leapt from the ceiling and struck the other kobold, rending his face with her claws. The unfortunate creature screamed in pain and terror at the sudden demonic assault.


    One of the guards said something to the other, and then called out louder to make itself heard outside the chamber. There was a response, and then he heard several sets of feet scurry off down the tunnel to investigate.


    ***


    Jori, meanwhile, left her victim writhing on the ground, the lizard still making a lot of noise as she ran back toward the intersection and hid herself in a ventilation shaft. Seconds later, six lizards ran by, and Jori dashed out and toward Bernt.


    Lying flat on his back, Bernt watched as Jori, maybe twenty seconds later, darted through the doorway, completely silent.


    But it wasn¡¯t Jori¡ªnot quite.


    She was larger, her skin a shade or two darker. Where before she¡¯d had little nubs poking up from her bald head, she now sported sharp, two-inch-long horns.


    When he¡¯d found her, Jori looked¡­ childlike, for lack of a better word. Demons never really looked harmless, but she hadn¡¯t exactly looked like a dangerous hellspawn either. That hadn¡¯t changed in the following years, though she had grown a little bit. Now¡­ well, she wasn¡¯t a runt anymore. She looked like a textbook imp¡ªand she looked angry.


    With a slight scratching noise, she flung herself up into the air from the lintel, nearly reaching the ceiling before she spread out her wings¡ªwhich he noticed were also significantly larger than before.


    Then she flung fire at one of the kobolds before landing on the other, clawing into its head, then gripping tightly with her hands as she gouged it with her viciously taloned feet.


    A horrible stench filled the room instantly and Bernt felt his gorge rise in response¡ªburnt hair and meat along with the distinctive stink of sulfur.


    Hellfire. He didn¡¯t know she could do that.


    Pushing his surprise and revulsion to the back of his mind, Bernt heaved himself up to his feet and cast an unlocking cantrip on his bonds, using his ring as a focus. It didn¡¯t work very well, since the spell wasn¡¯t meant to untie knots, but the rope did loosen. With a wrenching motion and an assist from his aching teeth, he managed to get one hand free, thorns from the still-active protective enchantment breaking off of his skin.


    A quick shake later, both his hands were free to cast.


    The two kobolds inside the room were out of the fight. One was bleeding out on the ground with deep gashes in its face and neck, and the other was obviously dead¡ªhalf its face was simply gone.


    Bernt¡¯s stomach did a few uncomfortable little flips at the gruesome sight. He¡¯d seen a lot of dead kobolds already, but there was something especially unsettling about seeing the inside of a head. That just¡­ hit differently. It wasn¡¯t right.


    Trying to ignore it, he started casting a fire shield around himself. The other kobolds would be back soon, and if they¡¯d heard the short fight here, he and Jori only had seconds.


    ¡°Jori, this was a bad idea,¡± he chided her. ¡°We don¡¯t know how many there are, and they know we¡¯re here now. We can¡¯t kill¡­ them all?¡± He trailed off, watching in bemusement as a faintly glowing mist coalesced above the two bodies. With a sharp intake of breath, both of the soul fragments were sucked into Jori¡¯s mouth and nose.


    That was different¡ªdeliberate, even.


    Before he could ask her about it, though, Jori looked up at him and smiled, baring sharp teeth. The fear was gone, and she radiated nothing but confidence and an unsettling kind of bloodlust through the bond. Then, in a hoarse whisper, she spoke.


    ¡°Bad lizards die. All die! We kill them.¡±

 20. Landslide

    Bernt stared at Jori in incomprehension. Well¡­ that was new.


    ¡°Uh¡­ you can talk?¡± he said lamely.


    Jori cocked her head, grinning down at him.


    ¡°I talk! Burn bad lizards!¡±


    Bernt didn¡¯t know what to make of that. He knew that demons were supposed to gain power from souls; that was the first thing anyone learned about them. But she wasn¡¯t consuming souls¡ªat least not properly. Souls were released on death. For a demon to get a hold of one, it normally had to be captured in a soulstone by a warlock, who would then use them as a sort of currency to satisfy their end of the most common types of demonic pacts.


    What Jori was getting out of those kobold corpses was, at best, a soul fragment, or some sort of residue that was left behind. It shouldn¡¯t affect her so much in such a short amount of time. At least, he didn¡¯t think so.


    What would happen if she kept growing? Most demons were restricted in what they could do on the mortal plane¡ªthat was one of the functions of a demonic pact. Jori, as far as Bernt knew, wasn¡¯t. He had no idea who might have originally summoned her, and he certainly hadn¡¯t formed a pact with her. His familiar bond wasn¡¯t restrictive so much as it was a way to communicate. Beyond that, all it did was minimize any aggression the familiar might feel toward the bonded mage, but that was less a compulsion than a suggestion.


    It hadn¡¯t seemed important at the time because back then, Jori had absolutely no extraordinary powers. She wasn¡¯t dangerous. Now¡­ well, she¡¯d just killed two kobolds in seconds.


    All these thoughts flashed through Bernt¡¯s head in a moment, but he put them aside for now. He didn¡¯t have time to worry about what Jori was becoming¡ªthey were in danger. He was still sitting down, trying to decide whether he could put weight on his injured knee. It was sore and swollen, and when he prodded at it, it felt like he was stabbing a knife into the joint.


    For a moment, he considered telling Jori to back off. That they needed to hide and reach the surface as quickly as possible.


    But¡­he couldn¡¯t exactly run with his injury, and the healing potion he¡¯d taken from Therion was in his bag. The bag that was currently in the hands of the same kobolds that should be coming back down the tunnel in a minute or so. He could already hear them talking to each other in the distance, their voices echoing off the tunnel walls.


    That was fine. Bernt was tired of running. He was an adventurer, dammit¡ªthe kobolds should fear him, not the other way around. He didn¡¯t want to back off.


    These little assholes had somehow managed to ambush and capture gods only knew how many adventurers within the past day, including his own party. They¡¯d caught him, taken his equipment and beaten him bloody. But they weren¡¯t that tough. They just relied on surprise and numbers to overwhelm them, and those insidious traps to slow them down.


    Bernt didn¡¯t have either of his wands, but he did have his ring to use as a focus.


    He looked around. What could he do? Nothing but bare stone walls and some cleaning supplies in one of the corners¡ªa few buckets, rags and a mop sized for a kobold.


    Seeing that, Bernt tried to picture what a kobold janitor might look like, cleaning. No, it was too absurd. He couldn¡¯t do it.


    But he was getting sidetracked. He had an idea.


    ¡°Jori, can you try to slow them down? It doesn¡¯t need to be much, but another minute would help a lot.¡±


    Hissing in the affirmative, Jori disappeared back out the door. He wasn¡¯t sure what she was going to do, but he had his own preparations to make.


    Ever since he¡¯d come down to this dungeon, he¡¯d been thinking of himself as just a pyromancer¡ªtrying to make fire spells work underground. That wasn¡¯t necessarily wrong, especially when his best tool, his pyromancer¡¯s wand, gave him an edge in that area. But fire wasn¡¯t the best solution to every problem. He was an academy-trained mage, not some jumped-up sorcerer with a single trick.


    Crawling over to the cleaning equipment, Bernt grabbed the mop and used it to support himself as he pushed himself up to a standing position. Then he hobbled back toward the doorway, looking up at the tunnel ceiling.


    Bernt wasn¡¯t good at earth magic, and he¡¯d never learned many proper geomancy spells, but he practiced his cantrips nearly every single day. This was something he could manage.


    Using his ring as a focus, he began remolding the stone ceiling. First he formed cracks near the tunnel walls for a length of about ten steps. That took only twenty seconds, but he could already hear the kobolds approaching. There was a cry, then screams. He sensed Jori fighting, but he did his best to ignore any information coming through the bond. He couldn¡¯t afford distractions right now. He had to trust her to slow them long enough.


    Trying not to overdo it, he began hollowing out a shallow cavity above the tunnel ceiling to weaken it. Another fifteen seconds later, he was maybe halfway done when he felt the ceiling start to give. There was a quiet but ominous crack as a small section near Bernt sagged down without quite falling, and he immediately stopped.


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    He¡¯d begun shoring it up when Jori came racing down the tunnel, clinging to the ceiling as she liked to do. Her back was on fire, trailing flames. The kobolds were a few seconds behind her¡ªhe was out of time. He had to hope he could help Jori after the fight.


    ¡°Down!¡± he hissed urgently, hoping that she would get his meaning through their bond.


    Just as she reached the cracked section of the ceiling, she let go and dropped to the ground, running right past Bernt and into the room. As she did, he cast a fire shield to fill the tunnel in front of him and tried to take a step back, but nearly tripped over himself.


    He¡¯d have to let them get close. Far, far closer than he wanted to.


    The first kobold was already a step into the trap when it noticed the dust and gravel littered all over the ground. It slowed, looked up, and squawked in surprise.


    Icy fear gripped Bernt¡¯s stomach, but there was nothing to worry about. The four kobolds behind the leader pushed forward, heedless of the danger. One had a severe burn on its side, and another had a steel bolt from one of their own traps jutting out of its shoulder¡­ Jori must have really pissed them off.


    Focusing on the ceiling again, Bernt cast his earth shaping cantrip again and widened the cracks he¡¯d made earlier. As he did, the first kobold was forced into his fire shield by its fellows. Its flesh made a searing hiss, like meat hitting a hot pan.


    The kobold screeched in pain, barreling into Bernt along with a choking cloud of dust. Claws raked at him, but they barely broke the skin across his arms and chest. It wasn¡¯t a real attack so much as panicked flailing. That wasn¡¯t to say it didn¡¯t hurt. Bernt pushed himself back with his good leg and lashed out with the mop handle like a club. It clipped the kobold across the skull, and the creature fell back for a moment, stunned.


    A seemingly eternal moment later, Bernt put a fire dart into its chest. The spell took noticeably longer to cast than it did with his wand, and it was weaker¡ªbut fire was still his specialty, and the kobold had been at point-blank range. The bolt of conjured flame melted straight through into its heart. The kobold collapsed, twitching in agony as it died.


    Bernt wheezed, trying to cough the swirling dust out of his lungs. He pulled himself back to his feet and went back to the doorway, which was now partially clogged with debris. Painfully, he hobbled over it. He needed to check on Jori. She hadn¡¯t come back out, and he sensed her pain through the bond. She¡¯d been injured.


    She was sitting up against the wall, just inside the room. Surprisingly, her discomfort was diminishing by the second.


    ¡°Jori! Are you alright?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°What happened?¡±


    She looked up at him, then turned, gesturing at her back.


    Three parallel scars were visible there, though they were fading even as he watched. One of the kobolds must have managed a good swipe at her, but she was healing remarkably fast. He wasn¡¯t sure if her rapid healing was new¡ªas far as he knew, she¡¯d never been hurt before. Though, now that he thought about it, she¡¯d been scuffling with massive sewer rats and who knew what else down in the sewers for years. He¡¯d never seen her with so much as a scratch.


    ¡°Not bad. You don¡¯t worry,¡± she said, apparently trying to reassure him. It was kind of cute, he thought. ¡°I eat bad lizards!¡± She grinned at him, displaying decidedly not-so-cute razor teeth. Making good on that declaration, she bounded up and out into the hallway. The dust was only now starting to settle.


    Bernt followed much more slowly, just in time to witness her consume several soul fragments, three of which rose from the pile of rubble that now filled the tunnel nearly to hip height. That still made him a little uncomfortable, but this really wasn¡¯t the time to work out what was going on with her. At least she didn¡¯t physically try to eat the dead. He had more urgent issues to deal with, and any power she could gain in the meantime was a benefit.


    ¡°Jori, stay back for a moment, alright?¡± He raised his hands again. ¡°I¡¯m going to move the rubble.¡±


    He needed to dig out the dead kobolds to find the one with his bag. He needed that healing potion, at the very least, and his backup wand. Hopefully, one of them had been carrying his pyromancer¡¯s wand as well. But he was in no shape to move rocks with his bare hands. He wasn¡¯t about to tire himself out doing it that way, and he wouldn¡¯t have even if he hadn¡¯t been lamed. A quick earth shaping cantrip later, the first of the corpses rose out of the rubble, pushed up as he forced other stones to meld underneath it. It was wearing a tail ring made of gold and silver, with a few precious stones set into it.


    Finally some loot. Bernt achingly dragged himself up to the body, pulled the ring off, and stuffed it into a pocket. The second corpse didn¡¯t have anything of value, but the third had Bernt¡¯s bag slung over its shoulders. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stripped it off, going through it to find the potion.


    It was all there.


    He pulled the potion out, and moved to break the seal on it when he heard a rustle right behind him. He turned his head to look as a clawed hand gripped his shoulder, and a knife plunged toward his neck. For a moment, Bernt felt like time stood still. He tried to pull back, but there wasn¡¯t time to do anything. He would die here, right now, and there wasn¡¯t time to do anything.


    Hot blood sprayed over Bernt¡¯s face as the kobold was violently jerked backwards, throat torn wide open.


    Bernt stared down at the dying creature, dumbfounded. It was the second one he¡¯d raised out of the pile. It hadn¡¯t been dead.


    Jori hissed at it, slashing its face again in rage until it stopped twitching. It took longer than he would have expected, and he averted his gaze. The scene was¡­ kind of messed up. Like watching a cat play with a dead mouse¡ªexcept the mouse was quite a bit bigger than the cat in this case.


    Then, just as quickly, she was calm again, sitting down on the rubble as if nothing had happened and watching him with faintly glowing eyes.


    ¡°Bad lizard. Sneaky,¡± she hissed. Then she poked the body with her foot demonstratively and grinned. ¡°Not so sneaky now.¡±


    He didn¡¯t know what to say. She¡¯d saved his life. Her personality hadn¡¯t changed¡ªhe didn¡¯t think she was going to turn on him or anything. But¡­ she was a lot more dangerous than she¡¯d been just a few days earlier.


    ¡°Jori. I¡¯m glad that we¡¯re friends.¡±


    Breaking the seal on Therion¡¯s potion, he drank it down. He tried not to think about what a waste it was. A potion like this could heal almost anything, and he was wasting it on a relatively minor knee injury. But he didn¡¯t have a lower-grade potion, and he¡¯d get himself killed if he tried to hobble through a dungeon on one leg just to save some money.


    Experimentally, he straightened his leg, which obeyed with an odd popping noise. It hurt for a second, then felt completely fine. Bernt sighed in relief.


    ¡°Alright, Jori, keep an eye out for anyone coming down the tunnel, please.¡±


    He needed to find his wand, and then he needed a break.

 21. Hope and Despair

    Bernt found his wand tucked into the last kobold¡¯s belt. The creature was partially buried¡ªits head had been crushed by a large slab of stone. He also found a golden arm bracelet, a silver amulet, and a gold tooth, which he knocked out of the previous owner¡¯s mouth with a rock.


    He felt a little dirty for desecrating a corpse like that¡ªbut only a little. Bernt needed gold, and the kobold was an enemy. It wasn¡¯t as though that kobold would be using it anymore. In the meantime, Jori drifted through the surrounding tunnels, looking for any more enemies. They were, surprisingly, empty. He knew not all of the kobolds had come back for him and Jori and been caught in the trap¡ªat least some of them were too injured after she¡¯d finished with them earlier. They would bring back reinforcements before too long, he was sure.


    Giving his familiar a quick mental nudge, Bernt made his way toward her. They needed to create some distance from the scene of the battle, and he needed somewhere to tunnel out from in relative safety. If that didn¡¯t work, they would at least need to rest for a while. He had no idea what time it was outside, but he hadn¡¯t slept properly in a long time.


    Jori scouted ahead and Bernt followed wearily, hanging back to avoid detection and letting Jori¡¯s superior dark vision guide him along. It wasn¡¯t perfect, and he stumbled around quite a bit, but he didn¡¯t want to make so much light that someone might see him. He had no way to detect traps on his own, so he had to hide near each intersection and wait while Jori got a good view. Watching through Jori¡¯s eyes, he then observed a passing kobold as it revealed the meandering safe path. He copied it, illuminating his path with a torch spell, which he extinguished again when he reached the far tunnel.


    It was slow going, and he had to double back every time Jori found kobolds moving in their direction. The entire exercise grew old very quickly, and Bernt soon decided they were far enough away to avoid being swarmed by whatever reinforcements might be coming toward the site of the fight. He ducked into one of the random chambers dotting the sides of this particular tunnel, pulled out his wand, and cast his torch spell to look around.


    This was a laboratory of some kind, but it didn¡¯t look like anyone had worked here for a while. Dust covered the equipment, and several of the beakers and bottles had a layer of dried residue sitting at the bottom, as if the place had simply been abandoned and no one had ever come around to clean up.


    It was as good as he would get.


    Bernt dug around in his bag and pulled out a bottle of water, some half-stale bread and a few bits of dried meat. He brought the latter out to Jori, who was sitting in the tunnel¡ªshe¡¯d taken up a sentry position without being asked. Then he sat down for his own meal.


    The water was warm and slightly musty, but drinking it felt like draining an ice-cold mug of ale on a hot summer day. Bernt shuddered in relief as it went down, and suddenly felt ravenous. He demolished the old bread in seconds, barely taking the time to chew. Normally, he would have choked it down over the course of ten minutes, wetting it with the water to make it more palatable. He hadn¡¯t realized how hungry he was, but he hadn¡¯t stopped to eat or drink since entering the dungeon, and that was¡­ a day ago? More?


    He was sticky with dried sweat and blood, from his own wounds as well as the kobolds he¡¯d fought. Bernt would kill for a warm bath right now¡ªand a handful of Cal¡¯s stuffed pickled cabbage loaves. The old bread hadn¡¯t been enough.


    His body felt heavy as his muscles relaxed, conscious of the cold seeping into him from the frigid stone floor. His mind, previously cleared by fear and the excitement of the fight, now felt sluggish. He had to get up. Risking his life to sleep was not smart when escape was so close.


    Bernt took a deep breath, braced himself, and pushed himself back up onto his feet.


    Moving to the back corner, well out of sight of the door, he began casting his tunneling spell again. He was going to tunnel up as steeply as he could and hope to break through to the surface. The kobolds¡¯ complex wouldn¡¯t exactly be close to the surface, or else it would have been discovered before, but he had a little time now.


    Considering the size and state of the place, they had to have been here for decades already. It was strange, he thought, that nobody had accidentally broken into the warren before now.


    ***


    A long tunneling session later, Bernt¡¯s shoulders sagged in exhaustion and he sat down on the hard ground. The tunnel was less than ten paces long, terminating in an oddly melted-looking ceiling. Running his fingers through his hair, Bernt tried very hard not to simply give up.


    He was absolutely screwed.


    Things had gone well enough at first, but a few minutes ago he hit a strange layer of rock. His tunneling spell worked, technically; it just didn¡¯t go anywhere.


    It was as if the stone was too dense to compress any further and make room for the tunnel. So he¡¯d tried to go around. That was when he realized just how much trouble he was in. It wasn¡¯t just a big boulder. No, it kept going, perfectly even and far too smooth to occur naturally. It was a ceiling.


    He had no idea what kind of stone it might be¡ªhe was neither a geomancer nor a prospector¡ªbut he could guess what it meant. It was a city wall, or at least the kobold version of one. The warren was protected against intrusion from above, at least here. Anyone digging down would run into this layer of rock and, unless they were a clan of dwarves or an army¡¯s entire geomancer corps, there was little chance they would break through before the kobolds or their dragon master could intervene.


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    He wasn¡¯t escaping this way. He¡¯d have to either look for a way back to his own entrance or find another way out. The kobolds must have their own exits, but he was sure those would be heavily guarded. He¡¯d already tried to go back to the entrance he¡¯d made himself. That whole area was far too heavily patrolled. He would be overrun.


    Both were objectively terrible options. Bernt felt despair settle into his gut, heavy and cold, like stone. What was he supposed to do now? There was nowhere to go.


    Drawing his knees up to his chest, Bernt did something he hadn¡¯t done since he was a little boy sitting on a cot at the Halfbridge Orphanage, as a then-middle-aged Farrin explained to him that he would be living there with her from now on.


    He cried. Little sniffles at first, followed by hot tears and wracking sobs that shook his entire body.


    Always, in the past, there was a path forward somewhere. He¡¯d seen it, even back then. He could work, learn, and build connections to improve his situation. Then, once the magefinders came and took him to the Academy, he knew he could become the equal of anyone in the realm. All it would take was work, time, and an endless well of determination. It didn¡¯t matter that he started from nothing, because all he needed was himself. As long as he was willing to do whatever it took, nothing could stop him.


    And he had done that. After graduating, he could have left Halfbridge and set himself up as a low-class but comfortable mage in a small town somewhere, a step above the average hedge mage. He¡¯d taken the harder path¡ªa job with the very lowest formal order of mages, but one that paid reasonably well, and that he could use as a stepping stone for something greater.


    But he wasn¡¯t enough. Not today.


    All of the work he¡¯d done and the humiliations he¡¯d accepted along the way, more than a decade of sustained effort and compromises¡ªit was all for nothing. He was going to die here or die later, as a slave to a bunch of stupid lizards.


    He didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d sat there when he felt a small, unnaturally warm body settle against him. A tiny hand reached up and gently squeezed his shoulder.


    It still hurt a little. Jori had incredibly sharp claws now. But it was an important reminder. He wasn¡¯t alone.


    ***


    Jori felt it through the bond when Bernt finally fell asleep. She stood up, stretching tired limbs and wings. She knew her human was frustrated and he wanted to escape this place, but she was actually starting to like it here.


    For the first time in her life, she felt strong¡ªpowerful, even. It was an intoxicating feeling, and she wanted more of it. She wouldn¡¯t go around picking fights, of course. No, that was much too dangerous. The nasty scratches on her back were better now, but she still shivered at the memory of claws tearing into her back. The nasty lizard had almost managed to grab a wing.


    Taking a moment to make sure Bernt¡¯s sleeping form wasn¡¯t visible from the doorway, she began to make her way down the tunnel¡ªback the way she¡¯d come from before the fight.


    Maybe that room with all the dead food lizards would be restocked soon. And, while she was out, she could take a look around. She¡¯d been cornered many times in her short life, and she knew as long as you were still alive, you were never really out of options.


    ***


    Gnugg shuffled along at the back of his hatchling cohort as they hauled another corpse wagon to Great Conperion¡¯s larder. He was carrying a torch awkwardly in both hands and sniffled softly as Auntie Dudru chastised him.


    ¡°Being smaller than your peers is no excuse for this laziness,¡± she said, spitting the last word out with vehemence. ¡°Your response to a little competitiveness should be self-improvement, never self-pity! You will never become a productive member of the community if you don¡¯t adopt a positive, can-do mindset.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t fair. Gnugg always tried his best to do the tasks assigned to him in his cohort. The others just thought it was funny to always give him tasks he couldn¡¯t perform. They liked to watch him fail, and they liked to punish him for it.


    He couldn¡¯t pull the cart because he was too small to grab both handles at the same time. He couldn¡¯t stack sacks of food because they weighed more than he did, and nobody would help him.


    But Gnugg didn¡¯t say anything. Auntie Dudru didn¡¯t want to hear why he couldn¡¯t do things. She said that making excuses was something lazy people did, and kobolds were not lazy. The beatings the others gave him were justified, because he wasn¡¯t pulling his weight. Never mind that his weight was less than half that of the others.


    More than anything, Gnugg wished he had a friend. Someone who would help him with his chores. Someone who understood. Someone who would sit with him when he ate, and wouldn¡¯t hit him when he needed help.


    A massive clawed hand clipped him across the back of his head.


    ¡°Are you even listening to me, you little waste of dragon¡¯s blood?¡± Auntie Dudru hissed. Then she just walked off, throwing up her hands.


    Gnugg wiped at his gigantic eyes. He wished that scary demon would come back and scratched Auntie Dudru in the face. She was terrible.


    Just then, he thought he saw something move in the corner of his eye. He whirled, peering back down the tunnel they¡¯d come from. For a moment, he thought he saw glowing crimson eyes up there, near the ceiling. He watched for another moment, but in the end, he didn¡¯t see anything.


    Just to be safe, he gave that dark corner a little wave before turning back to catch up with the group.


    There was a rumor that a demon attacked the guards on the upper level earlier. They said the deep dwarves must have sent it to torment the tribe, but Gnugg knew better. He¡¯d met it. The demon wasn¡¯t bad. It had saved him!


    It had done something scary with the dead bodies then, but it was still nice to him afterward, before it had run off, clinging to the ceiling almost like a spider. It hadn¡¯t hit him even once! And it had gotten rid of all the mean bullies, at least for a little while. He hoped he would see it again soon.


    Maybe the demon would be his friend?


    They delivered the bodies to the larder, and the others didn¡¯t kick him this time. Bilat, one of his usual tormentors, even helped him drag a body into the room, throwing fearful glances over his shoulder as he did so. He didn¡¯t see any further signs of the creature, though.


    But Gnugg kept his eyes up the whole way back¡ªjust in case.

 22. A Cataclysm on Wings

    Keeping well out of sight, Jori followed the little group of spawnlings as they pulled their empty cart back away from the dragon¡¯s larder. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to leave all those tasty bodies behind, but she had a good feeling about this. They were bringing the dead food lizards from somewhere. Specifically, someplace where they were being killed by someone. That could be important¡ªBernt needed help.


    Besides, she could always come back later.


    As she went, she noticed increasing traffic in the tunnels, forcing her to find good hiding spots. A few times she had to track them by scent to find the spawnlings again, which wasn¡¯t easy with so many of the creatures running around. Rounding a corner, she barely caught sight of the cart being pulled straight into a solid wall, followed by the last few lizard spawnlings. Instead of crashing, it all disappeared.


    Bemused, Jori listened carefully for any other approaching traffic, then scampered up to the wall. It looked like a normal wall.


    She poked at it experimentally, and her claw went right through. It wasn¡¯t real.


    How strange.


    Finding the edge of the hidden entrance, she then brought her hand up and nipped at the back of her finger, which caught fire as her blood was exposed to the open air. It wasn¡¯t as intense as earlier, when she¡¯d feasted on all the food lizards, but it would work. She smeared a bit of it on the stone, where it sizzled, making a small, glassy mark. She wanted to be able to find this spot again later.


    Slipping silently through the illusion, Jori found a shallow ramp leading downward. Unlike most of the tunnels, it was illuminated by softly glowing crystals they¡¯d set into the ceiling. It wound down and down, eventually ending in another wall.


    Jori listened for a moment to make sure no one was coming and then stepped through. She marked the tunnel entrance with her blood on this side as well, paused for the cut to close, and then turned in a slow circle, sniffing the air to find the scent of corpses. One direction seemed more promising than the other, and she hurried forward.


    She¡¯d only taken two steps before she heard several sharp ping sounds as steel bolts struck the wall right over her head. Then light flared, and Jori scrambled, darting up the wall to evade the next attack.


    She looked around in a panic for the source, but saw nothing. The light was coming from her. Her heart hammered in her ears, but there was no other sound. It took several seconds before she realized what had happened. One of the bolts had grazed her wing, lighting it up as her blood caught fire in the open air. It was a trap.


    Right. The traps were everywhere in the lower level, not just at the intersections. She should have remembered that. She was lucky she wasn¡¯t as big as her human, or that could have been very bad.


    How did the little spawnlings avoid them all with their cart? She shook her head. These lizard creatures were crazy!


    At least the walls were rougher here, so it was much easier to find good handholds. Staying off the floor, Jori made her way down the tunnel, following the scent of death.


    It wasn¡¯t far. Just a few minutes later, she found the spawnlings loading their cart again in a large grotto filled with many, many dead food lizards on one side and a much smaller number of dead humans, elves and dwarves on the other. There might have been a gnome, too, but the body was too badly savaged to be sure. The sight of all of them awakened that thirsty feeling again, and her eyes heated up with excitement.


    Success!


    She shook her head, focusing her thoughts. This wasn¡¯t why she was here. Besides, maybe she could stop by on her way back, when they were gone.


    Leaving the busy spawnlings behind, she kept going and carefully peeked into each adjoining room and tunnel as she passed, checking for any recent signs of fighting. Unlike the parts of the lower floor they¡¯d explored earlier, the rooms here were mostly occupied and in use. There were rooms for cooking, sleeping, working and storage, with kobolds constantly running between them all. It was all very complicated, she thought. Bernt just did everything in his one room¡ªthe same one she lived in.


    It was slow going, but she didn¡¯t have to go very far. Maybe five minutes later, she was looking down into a room, and seeing no one inside, when she caught a familiar scent. It smelled like that big dwarf with the club¡­ Fury? She didn¡¯t remember all the names. She hadn¡¯t really been paying attention. Dwarves all had a pretty strong smell, as far as Jori was concerned, and the big bulky one from their group had an olfactory signature to match his size.


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    Risking a closer look, Jori climbed a little lower down on the wall to give herself a better angle.


    There were two guards in armor standing in front of a door, holding spears. It was only the second specifically guarded room she¡¯d seen in this place. And it smelled like giant dwarf.


    ***


    Bernt woke, as usual, to the sensation of Jori tugging on his robes¡ªdemanding breakfast. He reached blindly over for the small jar of rat jerky he kept on his nightstand; it would get her to leave him alone for another five minutes. But his fingers brushed cold stone instead.


    That wasn¡¯t right.


    ¡°Wake up!¡± Jori¡¯s rough voice hit him like a splash of cold water, and he jerked up into a sitting position. She could talk. He was inside the dungeon. He was trapped.


    He was going to die.


    As he moved, Bernt¡¯s left leg erupted in pins and needles. Groaning softly to himself, he rose to his feet and limped around in an uneven circle, trying to bring sensation back into it. He¡¯d been lying awkwardly on the hard ground and his hip felt bruised.


    ¡°Jori,¡± he said, rubbing at his eyes, ¡°how long did I sleep?¡± He didn¡¯t have time to rest¡ªhe should be doing something to get himself out of this mess. The drive to act was quickly banishing his grogginess, but he didn¡¯t actually have anything to do.


    ¡°I found the big, smelly dwarf!¡±


    ¡°You went out there?¡± Bernt looked down at her, startled. ¡°What were you doing?¡±


    The little imp cocked her head at him in exaggerated confusion. ¡°I scouted.¡±


    Bernt stared at her curiously. Since when could Jori understand sarcasm? Only then did the meaning of her earlier words really sink in.


    ¡°Wait, Furin? You found Furin?¡± He was suddenly excited. ¡°Did you find the others? What about Therion? Where are they?¡± If he could find the prisoners, maybe he could break someone out. Maybe all of them! They hadn¡¯t made it out last time, but if he could bring a larger group together¡­ well, they might even find the prime party, to salvage this entire mess.


    They¡¯d been inside for days already, and there was no telling exactly where the prime adventurers were or what they were doing. Bernt had no idea how large the lower portion of the dungeon was, or if they¡¯d discovered the hidden, upper part yet.


    ¡°I found a door,¡± Jori explained. ¡°Two bad lizards, and smells like big Fury dwarf.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re called kobolds, Jori,¡± Bernt corrected. Why did she know what lizards were, but not kobolds? ¡°And it sounds like a jail or something. Do you think you can show me?¡±


    He didn¡¯t know what kind of security it might have inside. It might be dangerous. But he had to act. He couldn¡¯t just sit here. There had to be a solution. He didn¡¯t even have a potion anymore. But at least if he tried this, he might find Syrah, or another healer, inside.


    It would, at any rate, be less dangerous than just trying to fight his way through an army of patrols with Jori alone.


    ¡°Can you lead me there?¡±


    ***


    Bernt stood facing a stretch of wall that looked exactly like every other tunnel they¡¯d walked through so far. After nearly an hour of sneaking, backtracking and hiding from passersby, Jori had suddenly taken a right turn directly into this wall.


    Confused, Bernt stuck his hand through the illusion.


    It looked real in the light of his torch spell, without any fuzzy spots or shimmering. It was also extremely efficient¡ªhe couldn¡¯t sense any magic until he touched the spell. Even then, it was only a faint buzz. Different kinds of magic normally had different feels, which was how a mage might tell, broadly, what an enchanted object was for. This¡­ well, he only knew it was an illusion because his hand was in it.


    He wanted to stay a bit longer and study it, but then he felt Jori¡¯s hand grip his wrist and tug impatiently, pulling him down onto the secret path.


    ¡°Not far now,¡± Jori hissed, ¡°but dangerous. There are many traps.¡±


    Bernt started down the sloped tunnel, but only made it a few steps. A colossal boom echoed through and the world shivered. Dust and bits of gravel fell from the ceiling as cracks spidered all through the walls and ceiling.


    Pulling out his wand, Bernt moved to the tunnel¡¯s side. If the ceiling was going to come down, he figured it would fall in the middle first. A few seconds later, a distant inhuman roar echoed after the boom, brimming with rage.


    What in the nine hells was this? Bernt looked around in confusion, as if hoping the walls themselves might hold the answer.


    Then the stone all around vibrated with a buzzing noise that, over the course of a second or two, resolved into an urgent, high-pitched male voice, like that of a gnome.


    ¡°¡­ to all parties, extract immediately! We have engaged an elder deep dragon. I repeat, an elder dragon. ¡­an estimated threat rank of¡­ survi¡­ ¡­to alert the king¡¯s representative immediately¡­ advise immediate containment proto¡­ ¡­ull military mobiliz¡­ ¡­ a kingdom-tier threat. Deliver¡­ ¡­at all costs. Run!¡±


    The voice fuzzed in and out as it spoke, but the message was clear enough for Bernt. His heart pounded, about to leap up into his throat. ¡°Kingdom-tier threat¡± was exactly what it sounded like¡ªsomething entirely off the normal chart. Something so dangerous that it could threaten a country on its own, like a lich, a wild god, or, in this case, an elder dragon.


    Comparing an elder deep dragon to a juvenile¡ªno, even a normal adult¡ªwas like comparing a fully grown tiger to a three-legged housecat, if that tiger also came with millennia of knowledge and experience, and the wisdom and magical talents of an archmage. It was a cataclysm on wings.


    The prime party had found it and realized they¡¯d gotten far more than they bargained for. If they were sending a message like this, it was because they thought they weren¡¯t likely to be able to make this report themselves.


    And, as far as Bernt knew, all of the lesser parties who¡¯d entered the dungeon were imprisoned somewhere below.


    Whether that voice¡¯s owner knew it or not, that message was for him.

 23. Jailbreak

    Bernt found Jori cowering at the bottom of the tunnel, right next to what he assumed was the illusory wall that led out into the lower level. Every few seconds, distant cracking and booming sounds echoed through the tunnels, and the little imp flinched each time, ducking as if looking for cover.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Bernt said, ¡°we need to get moving. You need to show me where the prisoners are.¡± Orders from a high-ranked geomancer didn¡¯t change the fact that he wasn¡¯t making it out of here by himself. Besides, the message had said something about ¡°containment.¡± That didn¡¯t sound like anyone would be sending dungeon rescue missions in the near future. He needed to find the others and get them out.


    Jori looked up at him with wide eyes, her wings folded in close to her body. She was terrified.


    ¡°Too much,¡± Jori whimpered. ¡°I can feel it. We will die.¡±


    That didn¡¯t make any sense.


    ¡°You can feel it?¡± Bernt asked. They didn¡¯t have time for this. ¡°Jori, we need to go or we are going to get killed. The ceiling might come down on us at any moment.¡±


    She didn¡¯t move.


    He waited another moment. Then Bernt picked her up and carried her out into the tunnel.


    ¡°Which way?¡± he asked, looking around as he set her down. She stumbled a little, but stood up, coming back to herself. The tunnel was a mess. There was a fire burning in the distance, and rubble littered several sections. He could even see a few steel bolts lying around.


    Good. The shaking earth had tripped many of the traps set into the walls. Maybe he wouldn¡¯t get himself killed before he even reached the prisoners. There wasn¡¯t time to do this quietly, and they couldn¡¯t afford to get bogged down either. He would have to move as quickly as possible and hope that word wouldn¡¯t reach defenders quickly enough for them to intercept him before he reached the jail.


    ¡°Come on!¡± Jori hissed, running off down the tunnel. She must have picked up on what he was thinking.


    At first, nothing happened. He ran by several rooms, most of which were empty. Once, he caught a glimpse of a kobold through an open doorway, but its back was turned to him. Just when he was starting to think this might be easier than he¡¯d thought, loud yipping sounded behind him. Bernt looked over his shoulder and saw a guard standing in the tunnel maybe twenty steps behind him, shouting in alarm. Here and there, others began stepping out of rooms and side passages, looking for the source of the commotion.


    Concentrating on their bond as well as he could, Bernt visualized what he wanted Jori to do and tried to push the thought at her. Hopefully, she would understand, but he was worried. He¡¯d never used the familiar bond this way before¡ªto communicate complex ideas.


    Bernt whipped his wand around and started blasting fire darts back at the enemy, attacking blindly as he ran. He needed to slow them down. It couldn¡¯t be much farther, could it? If he could find the time to plug the tunnel with a fire shield, it would stop his pursuers¡ªbut he didn¡¯t think he could. It was a complex spell, and they were bare seconds behind him.


    Rounding a bend in the tunnel, Bernt caught sight of Jori, who was hanging from the ceiling as she peered through a doorway up ahead on his left. With most of his focus dedicated to casting fire darts, Bernt barely noticed another kobold step out of a door right in front of him, blocking his way. Before either of them could react, he barreled into the creature, and both of them went down in a tangle. The kobold let out a strangled squawk, and Bernt rolled off as quickly as he could. He threw a look over his shoulder as he scrambled forward to resume his flight.


    The creature was still laid out on the ground, groaning and looking around in confusion. It wasn¡¯t armed, nor wearing armor. Clearly not any kind of fighter. Maybe it was a clerk of some kind?


    Did kobolds have clerks?


    It didn¡¯t matter. He saw three kobolds pursuing him, and he was sure there would be more soon. A few steps ahead of him, Jori swung herself down through the door and into the chamber on his left. There was a startled shout and a woosh, then Bernt was through.


    He found himself in a large antechamber with an empty table in the middle and weapons heaped on one side. On the other was a heavy door, with two armored kobolds standing in front of it. One of them was screaming in pain, trying to put out the hellfire that clung to its arm. Most of the flame was rapidly burning through the door, but some had splashed on the creature. The other kobold tried to stab Jori, but she dodged back easily.


    Starting with the uninjured one, Bernt cast two fire darts in quick succession. The first didn¡¯t penetrate the kobold¡¯s armor, but the second struck it in the face and burned right through the creature¡¯s cheek. It shrieked in agony, and Jori seized the opportunity. She pounced up onto its head, sinking the razor-sharp claws of her hands and feet into its eyes and neck. The scream was cut short as she pierced its throat.


    In the meantime, Bernt rushed the other kobold, which was now trying to pour water from a canteen over the reeking sulfuric fire still consuming its flesh¡ªbut it couldn¡¯t get the stopper out with just one hand.


    At point-blank range, his next fire dart left a charred hole in the creature¡¯s skull¡ªgore spurted out with a gruesome flatulent noise as its brains boiled.


    The entire fight took only a few seconds. Bernt never stopped running and slowed only to kick at the remains of the door before rushing through, Jori right behind him. Throwing a look over his shoulder, he saw one of the pursuing kobolds standing in the doorway, rooted in place and staring in horror at the dead guards.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ***


    When the human rushed into the cell block through the burning door, Rula was ready, hands raised. Her awakened dragon blood gave her influence over mortal minds. Fingers dancing, she tugged on imaginary strings, manipulating her target¡¯s perception and emotions. The movements weren¡¯t necessary, but she found they made it easier to visualize what she was doing.


    Almost immediately, the young human man relaxed and slowed down, looking around. He smiled, clearly relieved to have found his friends.


    ¡°Hi, guys!¡± he called to the other prisoners in the surface language, waving at them. ¡°Just give me a second. I¡¯ll have you out of there soon. Get ready for a fight! There¡¯s going to be a lot of them out there.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need,¡± Rula responded, using the same language. ¡°They are safe here.¡±


    The human turned to the door, waving his wand in a weaving, circular pattern until a shimmering barrier materialized over the entrance. Then he turned back to Rula, still smiling.


    ¡°That¡¯s great! I was really worried¡ªthere¡¯s an elder dragon out there, you know?¡± He stopped and frowned for a moment, but then his face lit up as if he¡¯d just worked something out.


    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re a kobold, right? Do you think you can talk to it for us? Maybe we can all get out of here!¡±


    ¡°Oh, for the gods¡¯ sake,¡± grumbled the sneaky human who had killed Kekri as he rolled his eyes. The others just sat there, watching silently. They knew there was nothing they could do here.


    Rula chuckled at him, but trailed off when she heard a strange hissing noise from above. She looked up and met the hellish red gaze of a small, bat-winged demon snarling at her with razor teeth.


    Were the humans working with the deep dwarves? It couldn¡¯t be¡­


    She raised her hands toward it, but she knew it was no use. The alien minds of demons were naturally immune to mortal influence. As hellfire filled her vision, she closed her eyes and consoled herself with the knowledge that she was a part of something greater. The Great One¡¯s grand purpose was as inevitable as the tides of the Midnight Sea.


    ***


    Bernt watched in horror as Jori¡¯s attack melted the face right off of the friendly kobold as she hissed at it angrily.


    ¡°Jori! Why did you do that?!¡± he demanded incredulously. ¡°That kobold might have been able to help us.¡±


    Jori just stared at him, but he plainly felt her emotions coming through the bond. Inwardly, she was rolling her eyes.


    ¡°Kobold guards prison. Guards are enemies,¡± she explained helpfully, dropping to the floor. ¡°I kill bad lizard!¡±


    By now, they had the attention of everyone within earshot, and several started talking at once.


    ¡°Is that Bernt?¡± Therion¡¯s voice cut through the murmur. ¡°Why is there a demon here?¡±


    A sizzling sound and a shriek cut that conversation short before it could begin, and Bernt had never been quite so thankful to be attacked before. He rushed over to the corpse of the kobold, which wore practically nothing except a belt and a few bits of jewelry, and pulled a ring of keys off its hip.


    Several kobolds were talking on the other side of his fire shield. The first one had pulled back after burning itself on it, but sooner or later, they would just force their way through. It wasn¡¯t a physical barrier, and he hadn¡¯t had time to make it so hot it could kill anything. At best, they would suffer burns on their exposed skin and go blind if they were stupid enough to keep their eyes open.


    But the beauty of fire magic was that burns hurt. It would take them a while to decide that accepting the pain was their only good option¡ªunless they had their own mage or sorcerer. By then, his group would be ready.


    He hoped, anyway.


    ¡°The demon is friendly,¡± Bernt said as he fumbled, trying to find the right key. ¡°Don¡¯t attack her.¡±


    There were four cells in all, designed to hold different kinds of prisoners. The one nearest to the door was for spellcasters and contained Therion among several adventurers Bernt hadn¡¯t met¡ªtwo other humans, a dwarf and a goblin. It was probably warded with expensive enchantments to suppress magic, which would make it incredibly difficult to cast spells of any kind without a powerful focus.


    The middle two cells were heavily reinforced, but seemed otherwise mundane to Bernt¡¯s senses. Furin and Oren shared a cell with several other tough-looking people. One, a dwarf, had a glowing gemstone eye and an arm that looked like it had been carved from stone. Was he an artificer of some kind? Bernt had heard of them, but he didn¡¯t know there were any in Halfbridge.


    At the end, he found a cell for priests and bards, and he paused at the sight that greeted him. They were the only ones fully restrained¡ªgagged and chained to the walls in a manner that had to be incredibly uncomfortable. Priests couldn¡¯t be allowed to speak any prayers or perform any rituals. No prison could survive the wrath of a god, and while clerics could rarely get that kind of attention from their deity, it wasn¡¯t worth the risk. Bards, on the other hand, had to be completely silenced to prevent them from using their abilities to manipulate minds.


    While a bard had difficulty influencing someone who was actively resisting, they could still, for example, charm passing animals¡ªa skill some bards specialized in. Delania the Plaguebringer famously used this tactic to break out of a dungeon a century ago, first using a rat to recover the keys from a guard and then unleashing thousands of spiders, insects, rats and snakes on her captor¡¯s household, killing the baron and his family and blighting their crops. She did so much damage that the entire barony fell to a goblin raid a few years later.


    Opening the door, Bernt then entered and moved straight to Syrah, trying to find the key to unlock her cuffs. Fortunately, it only took a second. They would need healers soon, he was sure.


    Other former prisoners were already in the room freeing their respective party members when he finished, so he stepped out of the cell in time to see one of the spellcasters dispel his fire shield. The dwarf did it without using a focus, guiding her mana with her bare hands and humming a tune as she did so. There were many techniques to help mages visualize mana flows and sharpen their focus¡ªthough those were mostly pointless when using a proper focus.


    It was situations like this that justified the years of practice young mages spent learning to cast unaided.


    As the shield dropped, the dwarf artificer, Oren, and a bulky human dove through the door, driving the kobolds back and making room for everyone else as they went pouring into the antechamber.


    The kobolds went down in seconds, despite the fact that the adventurers weren¡¯t even armed¡ªsimply relatively powerful, being around rank 4 or 5. Most would have unnaturally enhanced their bodies, making them difficult opponents in any situation. Besides that, kobolds were smaller, and there just weren¡¯t very many of them out there yet.


    Bernt felt something in his chest unclench, seeing them go. He¡¯d done it. The prisoners were free, and this wasn¡¯t just his problem anymore. The others could deliver the message just as well as him, and they could get him out of here.


    The walls shook again¡ªa little more violently than before¡ªand dust fell from cracks in the ceiling.


    They¡¯d make it. Just as long as the dragon didn¡¯t decide to get in their way.

 24. A Glimpse of Greatness

    The adventurers quickly looted whatever they could find: the guards¡¯ spears, a butter knife, and a few proper weapons that lay piled against the opposite wall, including Furin¡¯s club¡ªprobably trophies. There was no telling where most of their gear had been stashed. They flooded out into the tunnel and overwhelmed a patrol of kobolds, looting their corpses in turn. Then they began checking the other nearby rooms for more prisoners.


    There were four parties in their cell block, about twenty people¡ªbut there had to be far more adventurers down here. Hopefully they were nearby, because every moment they spent looking was a risk. Bernt¡¯s party followed at the back of the group. He might have broken them all out, but they were the lowest-ranked and weakest party here.


    Fearing that an overenthusiastic adventurer might take a swing at her, Bernt tried to coax Jori back into his bag, but found she didn¡¯t fit into the opening anymore. Instead, she climbed up to his shoulder and sat there like a red-eyed gargoyle.


    Well, Bernt supposed the cat was out of the bag. Syrah looked at the little imp with open disgust, but said nothing. That was to be expected, though¡ªno priest would happily spend time around a demon. Or someone they thought might be a warlock¡­


    It was the others who surprised him.


    Oren peered at Jori, and then nodded at Bernt approvingly.


    ¡°People always underestimate the little ones, but they¡¯re vicious little bastards. Ranged attack is really useful for climbers and fliers, too. It melted that smarmy little shit¡¯s face right off.¡± The thief sighed blissfully at the memory. ¡°Beautiful thing, that.¡±


    Bernt, for his part, was pretty sure he¡¯d be seeing that sorcerer¡¯s melting face in his nightmares from now on.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be so morbid, Oren.¡± Elyn shouldered him aside. ¡°Look at it, it¡¯s so cute!¡± She reached out and patted the little demon on the head. Jori preened under the attention.


    ¡°Her name is Jori,¡± Bernt told her. ¡°And she likes jerky.¡±


    The little demon¡¯s ears pricked up at that. ¡°Do you have jerky? I¡¯m hungry!¡±


    Elyn flinched in surprise, then squealed in delight. ¡°She talks?¡± She turned to Jori, now looking a little embarrassed. ¡°You can talk? I didn¡¯t know you could talk!¡±


    Oren stared at her. ¡°She talked right in there, less than three minutes ago!¡±


    Elyn ignored him. As if from nowhere, she produced a slice of sausage. ¡°I have that, want to try?¡± Faster than Bernt¡¯s eyes could follow, Jori snatched it out of her hand and sniffed at it with clear enjoyment before jumping down to walk with the half-elf, chittering at her happily.


    Bernt decided not to question it. It might do her good to make a friend.


    That was when Therion clapped him on the shoulder, wearing a more serious expression than usual.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you made it, Bernt. However you did it.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Bernt said, ¡°That¡¯s not how¡­ well¡­ not exactly.¡±


    Therion waved it off. ¡°Relax, relax. We aren¡¯t going to judge you for doing what you had to. And you wouldn¡¯t be the first mage to make compromises in a difficult situation. My father has told me some¡­ stories.¡±


    He glanced over at Jori, who was now animatedly describing some of her experiences in the dungeon to Elyn. ¡°You¡¯re going to want to register her when we get out, though. Warlocks get a lot of scrutiny, and it¡¯s worse if you actually keep a summoned demon around. You might lose your job.¡±


    Bernt scowled.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a warlock!¡± he said indignantly. ¡°Look, I¡¯ll explain everything when we get out of here, alright?¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± The doubt was clear in Therion¡¯s voice. But he didn¡¯t argue, and that was good enough for now. Bernt was more than a little concerned about what Ed would do with the knowledge that he had a bond to a demon, but he absolutely didn¡¯t want to talk about that right now.


    Only Furin said nothing, and if he had any opinions about this new development, he kept them to himself.


    They checked room after room, killing every kobold they came across. It was quick and brutal. They found another cell block almost immediately, with the exact same layout as theirs. It was guarded by a larger, much more dragon-like kobold than the others in the antechamber. That guard managed to kill one of the other adventurers and injure several others, but their weight of numbers was more than enough in the end¡ªeven without proper equipment.


    While the clerics healed the injured, Bernt watched one of the other parties handle the actual cell block, its entrance at the back of the room. They couldn¡¯t be sure, but there would likely be another mind sorcerer on the other side. A wiry goblin woman wrenched the door open, and a bulky man holding nothing but a fist-sized rock stepped inside, hand already raised.


    Sighting on something, he hurled the rock with incredible force just as a voice spoke from inside. His face went unnaturally slack, but the rock was already in the air. The voice cut off with a pained squawk, and the goblin woman darted past him, face locked into a snarl.


    The man¡¯s face went from slack to horrified for a second, but then he shook his head and smiled as a few muted cheers sounded from further inside.


    ¡°Clear!¡± came the goblin¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Nice work, Zee,¡± the man said.


    When the prisoners were out of their cells, the antechamber grew so crowded that Bernt found himself and his party pushed back out into the tunnel. Inside, a voice he didn¡¯t recognize shouted for order, and everyone quieted down.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°We all heard the message from the prime party¡ªwe can¡¯t run around here searching the entire dungeon. Most of us should make our way out toward the exit as quickly as possible. My party is going to stay, along with any of you who want to volunteer. We¡¯ll go further in to try to find more prisoners and leave a few minutes behind you if all goes well.¡±


    Furin shouldered his club and moved to join them, but both Oren and Elyn grabbed him.


    ¡°We¡¯re the weakest party here,¡± Oren said. ¡°We need to get out. Worov has the situation under control, as much as it can be controlled.¡±


    Elyn made a face as if that were not what she¡¯d been planning to say, but then she nodded.


    Furin sighed.


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    ***


    They walked back down the tunnel with Oren in the lead, who marked the way as he walked. He was the only one here who actually knew the layout well enough to guide them, since he¡¯d actually scouted the place out before trying to break his party out. Everyone else had been force-marched through the mazelike tunnels in a random pattern, making it almost impossible for them to stay oriented.


    They were just past the first cell block when they heard an ear-shatteringly loud crack. The world shook even more powerfully than before, and the ceiling disappeared up ahead in a shower of falling rocks and dust.


    The sounds of the ongoing fight, which had been noticeable only as distant roars, vibrations and the occasional booming sound before, was now clear as day. So, for that matter, was their view.


    In front of them, the tunnel was just gone, replaced by a few feet of rubble. They were looking up and out of a huge hole with sheer stone walls. Ahead and above them, standing at the rim of that hole was a gnome wearing brown robes intricately embroidered with white and gold thread. In front of him stood an impossibly smooth wall of stone, reaching up and up into the darkness. As they watched, he raised his staff and began rapidly sketching in the air. A gigantic rune appeared etched into the stone above. Then thousands upon thousands of other runes emerged from the rock, radiating outward from the primary rune in a dizzying fractal pattern.


    Bernt realized his jaw was hanging open, and he snapped it shut. He had no idea how a mage would even begin to cast a spell of that size or complexity. Both the amount of mana and the control required beggared the imagination, never mind even visualizing the spell to begin with.


    That would be the prime party¡¯s mage, then.


    Bernt recognized that primary rune, at least. He¡¯d been passable at abjuration, but never considered pursuing it. It had always seemed boring. Why specialize in containment and nullification when you could just burn your enemies to cinders?


    The spell finished forming and lit up with a blinding light, just in time for something behind that wall to strike it with a huge boom that stole his breath and nearly ruptured his eardrums. He was starting to understand why someone might opt for protective magics over simple firepower.


    ¡°Oh gods, you¡¯re still here?¡± the gnome called down to them. A moment later, he ran down a set of stairs that formed in front of him as he descended, followed by a bedraggled-looking bearded elf. Both had the glazed, haunted look of people in shock. The elf was covered in blood, though he didn¡¯t look injured.


    Up above, the huge primary rune flickered and the stone wall cracked under another strike.


    The gnome beckoned them urgently and called out, voice tinged with dismay, ¡°You should be halfway to the entrance by now!¡± Then, more quietly, he went on, ¡°Oh gods, they¡¯re dead. Did you see it? It¡¯s too late. The guild¡ªwe need to go.¡±


    ¡°Never mind that!¡± interjected a dwarf Bernt didn¡¯t recognize. ¡°The tunnel mouth is right over there. Mind opening it back up so we can leave?¡± He looked up at the damaged wall. ¡°And where is the rest of your party?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re gone. Not coming. We did our best¡ªwe did!¡± The gnome waved his bare hand behind him, and the rubble melted away in seconds, like snow in the summer sun. Bernt noted with some surprise that he wasn¡¯t even looking in the direction of his spell.


    He didn¡¯t know what adventuring rank this mage had, but he was a fully augmented geomancer and a skilled abjurer at least. That would make him a magister, possibly even an archmage, depending on whether he had his abjuration augmentation finished.


    Above, another thunderclap heralded an impact that made the wall sag inward. It was supported only by the reinforcing network of runes, entire sections of which had already gone dark under the strain. A gigantic clawed hand, covered in amethyst scales, had torn clear through the wall. Bernt stared at it in shock. He¡¯d known it would be big. All dragons were, but this¡­


    ¡°Come on!¡± the gnome shouted, waving them toward the open tunnel ahead. The group rushed forward as the stone shifted above them, the ceiling reforming as the powerful mage worked to close it up and block the dragon¡¯s view of them.


    As they rushed down the tunnel, Bernt couldn¡¯t get the sight of the dragon¡¯s enormous claws out of his head. It wasn¡¯t just their size, or their gemstone scales, one of which would probably be worth more than he¡¯d earn in the rest of his life. No, it was the dragon¡¯s index claw. It had been carved with familiar patterns at an enormous scale, the channels filled with bright-purple enamel¡ªmost likely enchanted.


    The dragon had turned its own claw into an impossibly large and complex arcane focus. Bernt had heard rumors of exotic wizards who used tattoos as a type of investiture, but he had never considered that someone might be able to turn a body part into a focus. The revelation seemed profound, somehow, though he couldn¡¯t think of any immediate use for it. Still, he resolved to consider the implications more deeply once he got out of this place.


    Spurred on by kobolds shouting in the distance in their yapping language, Bernt hurried to keep up.


    ***


    Conperion huffed out a sigh as he settled back down onto the ground.


    Finally. If they¡¯d been any slower about escaping, he would have had to kill them all and scrap the entire plan.


    And the prisoners¡­ He didn¡¯t strictly need for any of them to make it out, and he¡¯d already written them off¡ªbut this was a welcome surprise. A few more survivors would help to provoke the desired response. His forces didn¡¯t want to look too strong. Then the manlings might decide to evacuate the city, and that would ruin¡­ well, everything.


    Raising a clawed hand, he traced a quick pattern into the air. The unsolicited new wall in his lair disintegrated into sand, burying the bodies of the foolish manlings who had decided to try to ambush him. They would start to smell soon, but it wouldn¡¯t matter for long.


    He cleared a bit of sand to reveal a small grotto and reached inside to retrieve a small clawful of kobold bones. He focused his mind on the threads of fate, both those already woven and those still finding their place in the pattern, nudged by the day¡¯s events. Then he cast them down onto the sand, and leaned in, studying how they lay.


    It wasn¡¯t just about the constellations they formed. It mattered which kinds of bones lay where, and even more detail could be gleaned if he knew who each specific bone had belonged to. He didn¡¯t, of course. This was good enough.


    So, he decided after a moment, was what he read in the bones.


    ¡°Guril, attend me,¡± he said, voice resonating throughout the massive chamber.


    ¡°Great One!¡± a tiny voice called from the mouth of a small tunnel at his feet. The kobold, barely as tall as his claw was long, was kneeling with his face pressed to the stone.


    ¡°Clean up any remaining intruders, and get the interesting ones down to the scribes for interrogation. Kill the boring ones. Then withdraw all secondary forces from the front lines down below. We proceed as planned.¡±


    The kobold looked up, eyes alight with excitement.


    ¡°At once, Great One!¡±

 25. Coming Clean

    Bernt limped out of the tunnel and into the sewers as guards streamed past to secure it against the pursuing kobolds. While the traps that riddled the tunnels had mostly been disabled, they¡¯d been harried by pursuers almost the entire way back and lost several adventurers along the way.


    There were many injuries, and while they had healers, they couldn¡¯t afford to stop for risk of being bogged down by hundreds of kobolds. Once they had some time to organize a response, kobolds could be terrifying enemies. There were just so many of them.


    Nobody said it out loud, but Bernt doubted that Worov¡¯s group would make it out.


    That wasn¡¯t to say Bernt had been injured fighting¡ªno, he managed to hurt himself without help, by stepping on a nail. Why there was a nail in a position to be stepped on in a stone corridor was a mystery that would likely never be solved.


    Following the crowd, he climbed out of the sewers and up into the street. Just a few days earlier, he¡¯d watched the City Guard push back a kobold incursion here with the help of Ed, Fiora, and a number of other spellcasters and adventurers. He trudged away from the group a few steps, found a dry spot, and plopped himself on the ground bonelessly. He¡¯d made it¡ªand he was exhausted.


    Jori, he noticed, was a few blocks over, down in the sewers. She¡¯d snuck through the crowd down below and made herself scarce. That was for the best. The last thing either of them needed was for the City Guard to get a hold of her.


    Over to his right, he saw the geomancer speaking earnestly to Ed, still looking very out of sorts. That was to be expected, all things considered¡ªhe¡¯d just watched several of his closest friends die. The elf, the prime party¡¯s healer, hadn¡¯t said a word since they¡¯d met him. He sat on the ground, staring at nothing. He¡¯d been no help at all during their retreat, and Bernt wondered if he would ever recover.


    Luckily for him, Ed wasn¡¯t looking his way. He wasn¡¯t ready to explain himself to his boss yet. That was when he caught sight of another gray-robed figure coming right at him, waving urgently.


    ¡°Bernt! You look worse¡¯n Kustov¡¯s beard after a double shift on the shit patrol! What are you doing here?¡± Dayle asked, taking in the scene. ¡°You alright?¡±


    Bernt didn¡¯t answer right away, wrongfooted by the mixture of relief and apprehension he felt at seeing Dayle¡¯s familiar face. To his rising horror, he felt tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away¡ªhopefully before anyone could see.


    ¡°Gods dammit, you little shit,¡± Dayle said, clearly misinterpreting Bernt¡¯s silence. ¡°What did you do?


    ¡°We snuck in.¡± Bernt answered. ¡°But it¡¯s fine! We made it out.¡±


    ¡®Who¡¯s we?¡± Dayle asked,


    ¡°No one!¡± Bernt said. ¡°Nobody you need to worry about. It was my own fault.¡±


    ¡°Wow, Bernt,¡± came Elyn¡¯s tired voice from behind him, tinged with a note of sarcasm. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯d disavow us like that!¡±


    ¡°And to think,¡± Therion added, ¡°after taking on half the dungeon to break us all out of a dragon¡¯s own prison!¡±


    Bernt flushed as his party settled down around him in silent support¡ªeven Syrah, though she still wouldn¡¯t look at him.


    He protested, ¡°That¡¯s not what happened! You¡¯re making it sound like I fought a dragon.¡±


    ¡°True enough,¡± Oren chimed in, ¡°that mind sorcerer practically had you. Without your pet demon, you would have gotten stuck in a cell just like the rest of us.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be jealous,¡± Elyn said to the thief. ¡°He made it, and that¡¯s what counts. You¡¯re the one who tripped at the last hurdle.¡±


    ¡°And I lost my shadow-corrupted manticore spike doing it. Thanks for the reminder,¡± he said morosely.


    Dayle had been watching the exchange with some amusement. When Oren mentioned Jori, though, all traces of humor vanished from his face.


    He stared at Bernt thoughtfully for a moment. Then, making a decision, he held out his hand.


    ¡°Boy, I think you ought to come with me back to the office. You could use a potion for that limp, and Ed is going to want to debrief you when he hears you were in there.¡± He didn¡¯t say anything about a demon¡ªbut he didn¡¯t need to. Bernt had known it would be a problem, but he still cursed Oren inwardly for bringing Jori up so soon.


    Sighing quietly to himself, he took Dayle¡¯s proffered hand and heaved himself up to his feet. How was he going to talk his way¡ªand Jori¡¯s¡ªout of this? If he could have just had a good night¡¯s sleep first¡­


    ***


    Sensing Bernt¡¯s mood, Dayle kept the conversation light on the way back to the office. He complained about dungeon guard duty and regaled him with the fine details of the latest outrageous illegal dumping citations¡ªalchemists all over the city were competing to find new ways to make the Underkeepers¡¯ lives harder. Most likely, they were throwing a collective tantrum over Bernt¡¯s own actions regarding Julian¡¯s illegal potion dumping a few weeks earlier.


    In one notable case, all the debris and developing clogs downstream of a particular alchemist¡¯s shop had been petrified. It took Kustov days to find and clear it all, and since no one but the Underkeepers were inconvenienced, there was no risk of consequences for the alchemist in question.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Fiora was manning the desk in Ed¡¯s office when they arrived. Somehow, she¡¯d found the time to organize Ed¡¯s paperwork, and the small bucket where Ed usually kept weeks¡¯ worth of old tobacco ashes was nowhere in evidence. The whole place looked¡­ a lot more professional. The woman herself sat straight-backed in sharp, uncreased gray robes, filling out paperwork in a quick, precise hand.


    Bernt was impressed. Maybe Fiora should be running the place. When they came in, she raised an eyebrow at the pair, then focused on Bernt in his torn, dirty and bloody robes.


    ¡°Bernt? I thought you had today off¡­¡±


    It was strange to realize he hadn¡¯t been missed. That had been the point, of course, but it felt like he¡¯d been gone for weeks. Realizing that most people here in the city still thought everything was normal was¡­ weird. The prospect of telling his entire story from the beginning suddenly seemed daunting. He tried to think of a way to avoid the conversation that wouldn¡¯t require him to lie, but failed. He looked away uncomfortably.


    Fiora¡¯s nose suddenly wrinkled in disgust, and she reached over to where her staff was leaning against the wall. Bernt felt her cleaning cantrip sanitize his filthy robes as she turned to Dayle.


    Huh. Why hadn¡¯t he thought of that?


    ¡°Dayle, aren¡¯t you supposed to be on guard duty today?¡±


    He shrugged.


    ¡°Bernt there just came stumbling out of the dungeon along with damn near thirty adventurers, plus Janus the Earthshaper and Archdruid Leirin,¡± he explained. ¡°Both of them look like they drew the short straw at an orcish wedding. The rest of the prime party¡¯s dead¡ªapparently the dragon¡¯s an elder.¡±


    As Dayle talked, he went over to Ed¡¯s potion cabinet and opened it. It wasn¡¯t locked¡ªapparently Ed hadn¡¯t had time to replace the lock yet. It was still well stocked with minor healing potions, and he pulled one out and tossed it to Bernt.


    Pulling the cork, he downed it to deal with the wound in his foot. He was starting to feel a little more like himself again, free of that nightmare labyrinth with its traps and ambushes, and the way they were talking about him chafed at him.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t stumble,¡± he corrected the older man irritably. ¡°And I damned well broke them out of the dragon¡¯s dungeon.¡±


    Dayle smiled broadly at Fiora. ¡°Wild, right? I grabbed Bernt here nice and quick, so Ed could talk to him before he gets dragged in front of the guild investigators. They¡¯re going to be all over this.¡±


    Fiora sat back in her chair, eyes wide.


    ¡°We¡¯re sitting on top of an elder dragon right now?¡± She looked around. ¡°What does that mean? Do we evacuate?¡±


    ¡°Doubt it.¡± Dayle shrugged. ¡°But we¡¯ve got kobolds trying to push out of the dungeon right now. They¡¯re going to wait another few hours to see if anyone else makes it out, then they¡¯re going to containment.¡±


    That was news to Bernt¡ªwhen had that been decided? Most of the mid-ranked active adventurers in Halfbridge would have gone into the dungeon, and Bernt was certain that was well over a hundred people in total. The majority of them would still be inside. If containment protocol was implemented, they would almost certainly die.


    Sinking down onto a bench at the wall, Bernt tuned out Dayle and Fiora¡¯s speculations. He didn¡¯t want to think about the dungeon anymore, or what would happen when Ed got here. He just needed a moment. A second to relax¡ªto actually feel safe in a place surrounded by friends and colleagues.


    ***


    Bernt woke to the smell of pipe smoke. He was lying down, and someone had put something soft under his head¡ªa folded-up blanket. When he opened his eyes, he saw Ed sitting at his desk, smoking up a storm cloud. It couldn¡¯t have been very long. Dayle and Fiora were both still there, and the three of them were talking to each other. And, Bernt realized, he couldn¡¯t hear a thing.


    One of them, probably Ed, had cast some sort of privacy spell so he could sleep¡ªnot something he¡¯d seen or heard of before. It was a kindness that reassured him a little, but also a pointed reminder that his colleagues were more than they seemed, especially his boss.


    He¡¯d known that Ed was an archmage, of course, but how often did one actually see an archmage go all-out in a fight? After seeing that geomancer at work¡­ that hit differently. Now he had to wonder¡ªwhat was Ed really capable of?


    Seeing him move, Ed pulled his pipe out of his mouth for a second and gave it a casual flick, allowing Bernt to hear what Fiora was saying.


    ¡°¡ªlost pretty much everyone useful in there. You know what that means. We¡¯re getting pulled in, whether we like it or not. You need to talk to Iriala, the Rangers, maybe the Solicitors. We¡¯re going to need allies. You can¡¯t play in this arena alone.¡±


    ¡°Godsdamned warlocks,¡± Dayle grumbled. ¡°Do we really have to talk to those slippery evil bastards? If there was a way to smear our reputation, then that would be it.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re a lot more influential than you might think,¡± Ed said thoughtfully. ¡°And we might have one of our own in their ranks soon anyway.¡±


    At that, all three of them turned Bernt¡¯s way.


    Distinctly uncomfortable, he froze. What was all that about?


    ¡°Uh¡­ what?¡± he said eloquently. Then more forcefully he added, ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not a warlock!¡±


    Ed leaned forward in his chair, eyes boring into Bernt.


    ¡°Are you not?¡± His tone was mild despite his customary scowl. ¡°¡®Cause I heard from multiple sources that you were quite the hero down in that dungeon. Specifically, that you were ¡®the young Underkeeper warlock with the imp¡¯ who came out of nowhere, slinging hellfire, to break them out of a kobold prison with the help of his contracted demon.¡±


    Bernt began to sweat.


    ¡°That was Jori. But I didn¡¯t enter a demonic pact! I don¡¯t even know how to do something like that. I just put a familiar bond on her.¡±


    The three were staring at him now. Ed¡¯s expression was completely unreadable, but Dayle looked incredulous and Fiora let out a breathless chuckle that made it clear that she wasn¡¯t actually amused at all.


    ¡°You put a familiar bond on a demon,¡± Ed repeated, tone flat.


    The old man pinched the bridge of his nose, as if trying to combat an oncoming headache.


    ¡°Bernt, son. You¡¯re going to start at the beginning. You¡¯re going to tell me everything that led to you getting into that dungeon, what happened in there, and then, most particularly, you¡¯re going to tell me everything that led to you thinking it would be a good idea to bond a demon as a familiar.¡±


    Bernt shifted nervously. He was starting to think he was missing something. Jori had always been reliable, and she hadn¡¯t hurt anyone. He wasn¡¯t going to let anyone hurt her, especially not after what they¡¯d just been through. But¡­ he needed to come clean to someone.


    And the only people he trusted who might actually know what was happening to Jori were standing right in front of him.


    ¡°Uh¡­ I think I¡¯m going to need to back up a little more than that,¡± he said hesitantly. ¡°I¡¯ve actually had Jori for nearly two years. She¡¯s been¡­ changing, lately.¡±


    Dayle buried his head in his hands with a groan.

 26. A Difficult Conversation

    Bernt talked for nearly an hour, explaining how he¡¯d first found Jori in the sewers and how she¡¯d helped him with his work. Some eyebrows rose at that, but no one commented. Then he told them about the dungeon¡ªgetting in, being separated from the group, and how things had grown progressively more desperate after that, until he¡¯d finally managed to break out his party and escape. He meant to skip over what he found in the storage room, but it came tumbling out with all the rest. It was just such a relief to talk to someone.


    Throughout the telling, he made sure to emphasize Jori¡¯s invaluable support. He wasn¡¯t sure what they would want to do with her, but he could guess. A random demon in the sewers would be treated as an intruder at best and a pest at worst. In both cases, an Underkeeper would be required to kill it.


    ¡°Bernt, I have to ask,¡± Ed said, when Bernt finally finished. ¡°Why do you think that warlocks use demonic pacts when they could just form a more¡­ informal working relationship with a demon instead¡ªlike you did?¡±


    Bernt wondered if that was a trick question, but he answered it all the same.


    ¡°Because a demonic bond gives them access to the demon¡¯s power. If I made a pact with Jori, I could get access to hellfire. It might even transform all of my fire spells.¡±


    Ed nodded, as if that were exactly the answer he¡¯d expected.


    ¡°You could, if the contract you wrote into the pact stipulated that. Demons aren¡¯t chaotic beings, they can be bound to rules and agreements. That¡¯s the entire point of a pact. It¡¯s about setting boundaries.¡±


    He scowled at Bernt, as if willing him to understand. When he didn¡¯t, he sighed and continued.


    ¡°Demons don¡¯t belong on the mortal plane, son. The first thing any demonic pact does is muzzle the demon. They¡¯re not supposed to be able to touch souls¡ªor even the soul residues left behind in a corpse¡ªunless their contracted warlock gives it to them. Your ¡®Jori¡¯ is an unbound demon, even if she¡¯s still very small and relatively harmless for the time being. You¡¯re lucky that your imp didn¡¯t run into any dead bodies earlier. If she¡¯d been feeding this whole time, she might be quite a bit more powerful now. And you might have become one of her victims. If she¡¯s left to her own devices, she could threaten the entire city eventually.¡±


    Bernt considered that for a second. He couldn¡¯t picture it. Jori was a demon, sure¡ªbut she bore little resemblance to the monsters that had helped to bring down the empire in the history books he¡¯d read at the academy. No matter what kind of temperament she had, demons took a long time to grow into that kind of power. As far as Bernt could see, this was mainly a legal issue, not a moral one¡ªat least not unless Jori started killing people and eating their souls. That was what they were worried about, but they didn¡¯t know her.


    ¡°What¡¯s going to happen to her?¡± he asked carefully.


    Ed shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s up to you. For now, at least. The easiest thing if you want to keep her is to set up a proper demonic pact with her. I¡¯m sure the Solicitors would be happy to help¡ªthey have rules for that sort of thing.¡±


    Bernt looked between the three older Underkeepers, trying to decide if they were joking. Mages in particular considered warlocks to be lesser spellcasters borrowing the powers of others because they couldn¡¯t hack it on their own. Dayle¡¯s expression certainly hinted that he didn¡¯t think much of the idea. Why would Ed suggest this?


    ¡°But¡ªI can¡¯t be a warlock!¡± he protested.


    ¡°Warlocks rarely go into it because they like it so much,¡± Ed responded. His scowl softened a little. ¡°Most also aren¡¯t trying to save a demon¡ªmore, say, trying to save their friends from a horrible fate at the hands of kobolds. If you decide to go that route, I¡¯d suggest you go with that explanation. Your other options are to kill her or get her to form a pact with someone else. The Solicitors aren¡¯t going to tolerate a demon running around without a properly binding pact.¡±


    Bernt frowned. ¡°Why the Solicitors? And doesn¡¯t the government deal with rogue demons through the Adventurers¡¯ Guild?¡±


    ¡°Well, sure. If the demon is officially recognized as a threat,¡± explained Ed. ¡°They¡¯re not going to issue a quest without an incident report¡ªproperty damage, assault, that sort of thing. The Solicitors aren¡¯t interested in any of that. They¡¯re protecting their reputation¡ªand the reputation of warlocks as a whole.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯ve been doing a very good job, then¡­¡± Bernt said. Nobody liked warlocks, they were barely tolerated at best.


    ¡°Nonsense. The Solicitors are well respected,¡± Ed corrected him. ¡°In some ways, that¡¯s better than being popular. But never mind all that right now, you can learn about their organization another time. If you¡¯re set on not becoming a warlock, you¡¯re going to need to find someone who feels differently. Otherwise, she¡¯s going to get sent to her home plane sooner or later.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ we can send her home?¡± Bernt frowned in confusion. Why hadn¡¯t he mentioned that before?


    ¡°Demons aren¡¯t mortal,¡± Dayle chimed in, seeing Bernt¡¯s expression. ¡°Killing it is how you send it home. Your little fire-spitter would just reform there.¡±


    He didn¡¯t like the sound of that at all. It didn¡¯t matter if she came back to life¡ªit was still death, in a way. She¡¯d be gone.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Bernt needed more time to think. Having her form a contract with some random warlock seemed crazy. Besides, he couldn¡¯t picture Jori actually agreeing to that. She was his familiar, not some random demon.


    At least Ed was trying to help. That gave him a little hope, but he knew he¡¯d have to ask the question that had been haunting him all day sooner or later.


    ¡°So, uh¡­ am I still an Underkeeper?¡±


    For a few seconds, Ed just sat there, puffing on his pipe. Then, realizing that it had gone out, he pulled it out of his mouth and looked around for his ash bucket. Not finding it, he glared over at Fiora, who grinned at him unrepentantly. He set the dead pipe down on the table and turned back to Bernt.


    ¡°Look. We¡¯re not so flush with new applicants that we can just terminate a young Underkeeper¡ªespecially one who volunteered for the job. You¡¯re only the second Underkeeper we¡¯ve had in my tenure here who wasn¡¯t somehow forced into the position¡­¡±


    Bernt breathed a sigh of relief and his heart started beating normally again. He needed this job badly if he ever hoped to make it. It didn¡¯t pay well in terms of what mages usually earned, but that didn¡¯t mean he could do better in the regular labor market. Sure, he lived like a part-time dock porter, but he did that in order to save most of his wages. He didn¡¯t have to live in a ratty hole down by the docks. Still, while he¡¯d managed to loot some valuables in the dungeon, it likely wouldn¡¯t even cover the money he owed Therion for the superior healing potion he¡¯d drunk.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Ed went on, ¡°we also can¡¯t afford any¡­ incidents that would undermine public trust in our organization. So, there are going to be some conditions to your continued employment.¡±


    Well. It wasn¡¯t as though he had a lot of options at this point.


    ¡°What are the conditions?¡± he asked.


    ¡°The first is that you¡¯re going to bring Jori over to the breach tomorrow morning. I¡¯m going to have Iriala put a long-term tracking spell on her. If she shows up anywhere she¡¯s not supposed to, or if I hear anything suspicious about demon activity in this city, I¡¯m going to take care of it personally.¡±


    Bernt swallowed. There was little doubt in his mind regarding how he would ¡°take care of it.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡±


    ¡°The second is that you¡¯re going to get out the books and scrolls you found in the dungeon, including that crackpot wizard¡¯s journal you mentioned earlier, and you¡¯re going to show them to me. Right now.¡±


    Bernt hesitated. What if he didn¡¯t give them back? He¡¯d meant to try to sell the scrolls at least¡ªonce he learned that cold fire spell, anyway. But this wasn¡¯t the time to argue. He reached into his bag and produced what he¡¯d found in the dungeon¡¯s storage room¡ªa small heap of scrolls, the journal, and that demonology tome Jori had found.


    Dayle and Fiora went through the scrolls together and quickly discarded most of them, except for the cold fire scroll and the unknown scroll Bernt hadn¡¯t been able to read. Meanwhile, Ed flipped through the journal, eyeing the spell diagrams with interest and apparently reading the antiquated text without difficulty. He whistled to himself after a few moments, apparently impressed.


    ¡°Well, you should definitely take a closer look at this,¡± he said. ¡°You might learn something. Not that spell, of course¡ªcan¡¯t use a spell you can¡¯t cast, and it looks pretty janky anyhow. What¡¯s impressive is that this wizard here managed to build a spell like this at all. There¡¯s lots of useful theoretical insights in here, if you can make sense of them.¡±


    Last, he picked up the demonology book and flipped it open. He grunted once, then flipped it closed again with a scowl.


    ¡°Standard demon-summoning drivel¡ªand written in Duergar of all things. Garbage.¡± He put it in a drawer in his desk. ¡°I don¡¯t recommend letting anyone know you found this. You can have it back when I¡¯m confident that you aren¡¯t going to do anything colossally stupid with it. Probably not a big risk, considering that you¡¯d have to learn an entire new language to do it, but I¡¯d rather be safe than sorry.¡±


    ¡°Hey, this cold fire spell is kind of interesting,¡± Fiora said, ¡°and neither of us recognize the language on this last scroll here at all. Not even the script¡­ you ever seen it before?¡±


    Ed took the proffered scroll and frowned down at it.


    ¡°I¡­ maybe. It looks familiar. I¡¯m going to need to check a few things.¡± He rolled it up and slid it into the same drawer as the book, looking thoughtful. Then he visibly collected himself and held out the journal. Bernt took it, and stowed it alongside the cold fire scroll, which Fiora had handed back to him.


    ¡°Bernt. You can go home. I expect to see you here an hour after dawn with your demon. And you should expect a summons from an investigator¡ªcould be from the Adventurers¡¯ Guild or the count, depending on who takes point in the investigation. You should not tell them that you¡¯ve been harboring an uncontracted demon for the past two years. Just let people draw their own conclusions.¡±


    Nodding gratefully, Bernt made his way out, waving goodbye to Dayle and Fiora on the way.


    ***


    Bernt stumbled through his door to find Jori already curled up next to the stove and fast asleep, a fire burning merrily inside. She¡¯d let herself in through the window, and he hadn¡¯t noticed. She even closed the window behind her. When he kicked off his boots and sank down onto his bed¡ªmore of a cot, really¡ªshe looked up at him for a second, stretched her wings with an adorable chirp, and settled back down.


    Bernt sighed in contentment. His bed had never felt quite so comfortable. It was barely dark out, but it had been a long day already. Still, he had a few things to do before he could finally rest.


    The wound in his foot itched horribly¡ªstill not completely healed despite the potion. If he¡¯d remembered to recharge his amulet after the last time he had used it, he probably wouldn¡¯t have been injured in the first place.


    Taking an important lesson from that, he untied the bramble amulet and examined it. Some of the thorns had broken off, which made it more comfortable to wear¡ªbut he suspected that also meant it would break sooner or later. Considering what he¡¯d paid for it, he supposed that was fair.


    Following Grixit¡¯s instructions, Bernt carefully pricked some of the thorns into his forearm. He didn¡¯t want a bunch of little punctures in his fingers, after all. For a second, nothing happened, and he started to wonder if he was doing it wrong. But then he felt something. The thorns sank deeper into his skin, drawing a gasp from him as a painfully cold feeling radiated up his arm.


    It hurt a lot¡ªmuch worse than when he activated the amulet¡ªbut it was mercifully quick. After a few seconds, the thorns withdrew, and he could feel the latent power swell in the amulet over the next few seconds. It was almost as if it were digesting his power, converting it.


    That conflicted with everything Bernt had ever heard about enchanting. But, then again, normal enchanted items didn¡¯t need to be recharged, either. If that was the only price for such powerful protection, he would gladly pay it.

 27. A Meeting With a Demon

    Bernt approached the kobolds¡¯ breach an hour after dawn, growing more nervous by the second. It was clear that word had spread overnight about what was happening down below. The city buzzed with activity like a kicked anthill. Guards were posted on every street, observing as throngs of people swarmed stalls and stores to buy up food and supplies. The guards were also, Bernt noted, each standing with a clear view of their nearest sewer access shaft.


    That was probably wise. Wiser than Bernt would have given the guard commander credit for, really¡ªbut he supposed he had a low opinion of the man.


    The entire area around the breach was locked down by the City Guard with barricades and armed checkpoints. He could see the command post from here¡ªa house directly across from the hole in the street, with a large banner hanging over the doorway, and two guards standing on either side of it.


    The Underkeepers had been tasked with providing security for the dungeon alongside the City Guard, and Ed was an archmage, so he would probably be inside unless there was an attack.


    Bernt listened, but he didn¡¯t hear any noises coming from the breach itself. As Jori approached, he saw through her eyes that the guards were arrayed in a semicircle around the entrance, along with Yarrod and a massive man holding a sword that seemed too large to lift for a normal person¡ªmost likely one of the city¡¯s adventurers who hadn¡¯t gone into the dungeon. The guards looked nervous, but these two were chatting amiably.


    Nobody saw Jori, of course.


    He had to walk into that command post¡ªand so did Jori. That meant he was about to cause an incident. Not an illegal incident, of course, but still the kind that would lead to rumors, dirty looks and potentially a reputation that would make his job even harder.


    Looking around, Bernt tried to find a way to sneak her in quietly, but the place was locked down. It was meant to be a secure location, after all.


    Bernt swallowed. He could still walk away, but then he would lose his job. Worse, Ed or Iriala might decide Jori was too much of a problem and come after her. He didn¡¯t know how he was going to solve this yet, but he wasn¡¯t going to be a warlock, and Jori was going to hell over his dead body. He needed time to figure this out.


    Resolved, he signaled Jori through their bond and tried to project confidence as he walked toward the door.


    The guards ignored him.


    That made sense. He was wearing an Underkeeper¡¯s robes, after all.


    But then Jori emerged from the sewer, climbing from the hole that led to the dungeon entrance and appearing just a few steps away.


    She was fast, but her foot caught on a pebble on the quiet street as she ghosted toward him, making a clattering noise. The response was nearly instantaneous. Guards lowered their weapons, and one let out a shout. Bernt cursed quietly at their reaction. It seemed disproportionate, considering what they were up against.


    He supposed they had almost certainly never seen anything that qualified as a monster before¡ªnot even one that, in Bernt¡¯s estimation, was tiny and adorable. The guards were soft in that regard. It probably didn¡¯t help that she¡¯d seemingly appeared out of nowhere. But they didn¡¯t attack right away, and Bernt raised his hands in a placating gesture.


    ¡°Relax!¡± he called out. ¡°It¡¯s fine, the cute little imp is with me. She¡¯s assisting with the defense of the city. We have an arrangement.¡±


    Sensing everyone¡¯s attention on her, Jori waved and hurried over to him. The guards relaxed, a few looking a little embarrassed at his words, and Bernt breathed a small sigh of relief. For a moment, he¡¯d been worried that they would attack. Claiming her had been the right move, though now everyone was going to think he was a warlock. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, pushing Jori in ahead of him.


    There he found Ed and Iriala waiting for him in the main room, drinking tea. Iriala looked out of place, somehow. She was dressed too richly for what was essentially a war zone, but more than that, it was the way she carried herself. Iriala spent most of her time running the Halfbridge Mages¡¯ Guild, and the rest of it in the count¡¯s court. Looking at her like this, it was hard to remember she could probably turn him inside out with a flick of her wrist.


    Both turned to the newcomers as they entered and critically eyed the pair of them. Jori cringed under their stare, as if she could sense their power. Or maybe she was just feeling Bernt¡¯s own apprehension. Ed nodded at him in greeting. His facial expression was almost neutral, and coming from Ed, that counted as a friendly smile.


    ¡°Jori, is it?¡± Iriala asked, addressing the demon directly. ¡°Did your friend here explain what¡¯s going to happen to you today?¡±


    Bernt had tried, but he still wasn¡¯t sure how much she really understood. The reasons for this whole thing were abstract, and their communication so far had been more direct and practical than this.


    Jori hesitated a moment, then spoke.


    ¡°You cast spells to watch me,¡± she explained. ¡°So that Bernt¡¯s master knows if I am in the wrong place.¡±


    Iriala tilted her head a little, but she nodded. It was close enough.


    ¡°And you accept this?¡±


    ¡°Great Ones speak, and small ones hear,¡± Jori replied, apparently quoting, and shrugged. It was true enough, Bernt supposed, if a little fatalistic. He wondered where she¡¯d picked up that particular bit of wisdom, though, considering she¡¯d just started talking a few days ago.


    It was good enough for Iriala, as it turned out, because she went on in that same formal tone.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°In exchange, you will be registered as a resident extraplanar entity in the city of Halfbridge. This means that neither the City Guard nor any official guilds will be instructed to harm you. Please note that this does not construe a guarantee of safety or protection. While you are permitted to defend yourself if attacked, you may be held responsible for any damage or injuries you cause. Penalties include, but are not limited to, banishment to your home plane.¡±


    Jori shivered. Then, in a surprisingly clear voice, she responded.


    ¡°Yes, Great One. I accept.¡±


    Nodding in a businesslike fashion, Iriala drew a short wand and placed the tip against the imp¡¯s arm. Jori hissed in pain, but it was already done. When she pulled the wand back, a small shape had materialized on her skin in glowing white¡ªan eye.


    ¡°Enjoy your stay.¡± Iriala said. ¡°But keep in mind that there are people and organizations both in and outside of Halfbridge who will take a hostile interest in your presence here.¡±


    Then she turned to Bernt.


    ¡°You will be registered as her host and guarantor. If she commits any crimes in the city, you will be held liable. I suggest you consider carefully how long you want to keep her here without a proper bond to keep her in check. The Solicitors will be looking into both you and Jori. They don¡¯t have official authority, but no one¡ªnot the guilds or the crown¡ªwill interfere with them when it comes to managing warlock activities. They¡¯ve cultivated an impeccable reputation for regulating warlocks and interplanar activity in general throughout all of the former Madurian Empire¡ªincluding here in Besermark. You should do your best to keep them happy.¡±


    With that, she inclined her head to Ed and swept out of the room, into the street.


    Bernt looked from Jori to Ed in bewilderment.


    ¡°How¡­what?¡± he stopped himself. Then he tried again. ¡°What was that?¡±


    Ed scowled in his usual businesslike manner. ¡°Jori¡¯s been tagged and registered by mutual agreement. What¡¯s not to understand?¡±


    Bernt suppressed the urge to throw up his hands. ¡°Jori, how did you even understand all that? I barely understood what was going on there. And what was that ¡®Great One¡¯ business about?¡±


    Jori looked up at him for a moment, cringing back again.


    ¡°Great Ones!¡± she hissed. ¡°She has the future-sight. A deep eye, like K¡¯thanizar, the Schemer.¡±


    A greater demon. Goosebumps rose on Bernt¡¯s arms. Jori thought Iriala was like a greater demon. Disturbed, Bernt looked over to Ed for help, and the older man finally took pity on him.


    ¡°One of Iriala¡¯s augmentations is for divining¡ªshe can probably sense it. She incorporated it into her mana network to ascend to magister back in the day. Iriala is an archmage now, so as far as Jori is concerned, she might as well be a god, even without the eye. Don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯s normal, and probably a good thing.¡±


    Bernt swallowed. ¡°And the bureaucratic stuff? What was the point of all that? And how did she understand all that? She¡¯s barely been talking for two days!¡±


    ¡°Demons are very hierarchical, and they abide by their word. Making an agreement is always a good idea.¡± Ed shrugged. ¡°And she didn¡¯t need to understand all of Iriala¡¯s words¡ªshe could feel the intent behind them. It¡¯s not that different from how your familiar bond works, really. The hells have a highly regimented society where total obedience is a matter of survival. Their innate comprehension of what is demanded of them is fundamental to what they are. How do you think nonverbal demons like hellhounds get contracted?¡±


    Bernt hadn¡¯t ever thought about it. Why would he? He wasn¡¯t a warlock.


    ¡°Anyway, there¡¯s one other thing I need to know from you,¡± Ed said, now turning to look directly at Jori. ¡°If Bernt didn¡¯t summon you two years ago, who did?¡±


    Jori went still and cocked her head, thinking.


    ¡°Was a human. Very big and angry man. He was not nice! Very bad!¡±


    Bernt had always assumed Jori must have wandered into the sewer system from outside the city. She was small enough to fit through the bars where the mains drained into the river.


    ¡°Can you be any more specific? Where were you summoned, exactly?¡± Ed followed up, but Jori just shrugged.


    ¡°He said I was bad! That I was wrong and useless. He was very angry, and he threw me down a nasty, wet hole. Then I was in the sewer. The sewers were better, a little¡ªmany, many rats! And Bernt found me!¡±


    ¡°So, inside the city, then.¡± Ed sat back in his chair, looking less than satisfied with her testimony.


    ¡°If we have someone summoning demons inside the walls, we have another problem to worry about. The Solicitors are going to come looking for answers to this same question, and it would be an excellent idea to have a more specific answer for them than that.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ how specific?¡± Bernt didn¡¯t want to go around hunting unregistered warlocks in Halfbridge. Granted, this one had apparently summoned Jori entirely by accident, but Bernt wasn¡¯t sure if the culprit¡¯s incompetence made him more or less of a threat.


    Jori hissed in excitement. She was eager, and Bernt vividly sensed she was angry. He¡¯d never sensed any hostility from her toward people, but now¡­ She obviously still harbored some resentment toward her summoner.


    ¡°We can find the nasty, bad man!¡± she said. ¡°We bring him back, and Great Warlocks leave us alone! Yes?¡±


    Ed was still scowling, but Bernt could have sworn that he was also smiling. On the inside, anyway.


    ¡°I doubt that¡¯ll be enough for the Solicitors,¡± he said, looking between her and Bernt. ¡°But it¡¯s a good start if you want to start off your¡­ relationship¡­ on a civil, conciliatory note¡ªand I¡¯d recommend doing that. Jori, you¡¯re not going to stay on this plane for very long without a contract. It¡¯s not the sort of thing we can just ignore¡ªand those ¡®great warlocks¡¯ have very strict rules and procedures of their own to keep.¡±


    Great. Another thing to worry about. He was not going to go warlock hunting on his own. If there was one thing he¡¯d learned from his experiences in the dungeon, it was that going into dangerous situations alone was foolish at best, and downright suicidal in many cases. Besides, he might actually be able to get some help now. He had a party.


    Bernt took a deep breath and sighed, and then changed the subject. Before anything else, he still had a job to do. That was the point of this meeting, after all.


    ¡°Do you have my assignments for the day? I need to get started.¡±


    He needed to get back to work. This whole adventure in the dungeon hadn¡¯t even paid for itself, and there was no telling when Ed would put him on dungeon guard duty. He needed better adventuring gear, if only to help him fight off these kobold incursions, and that was going to cost money he didn¡¯t have. The sooner he finished that, the sooner he could worry about all of the other crises knocking on his door.


    Ed stood up, handed him a list, and sat back in his chair, sipping his tea.


    ¡°Take care of that top one first. They asked for you personally.¡±


    Curious, Bernt looked at the list. Who would even know to ask for him? When he saw where the first entry was from, he groaned.


    He should have known.

 28. A New Mandate

    Iriala stalked into the count¡¯s manor and sat down across from Guard Commander Righmond in the lobby. This was not a great day for court rituals¡ªsuch as unnecessary waiting times¡ªbut nobles needed to feel important the most when faced with calamities like this one. She positioned herself to give the impression that she was making direct eye contact with Righmond before she subtly activated the enchantment on her glasses, accessing her network of divination spells along the main dungeon entrances and the known breaches that had occurred over the last twelve hours.


    She could smell the man sweat from four feet away, and was determined to make it worse for him. Some people couldn¡¯t be fired, but they could still be made to leave.


    Through her enchanted glasses, she observed Ed, who was currently working with Janus on the defense. The third breach, located behind an old guard station, had been dug open again, and kobolds were spilling out and toward the mages. The City Guards were nowhere to be seen¡ªthe archmages had most likely ordered them back. As Janus raised his wand, the breach collapsed again, and the earth rose up in a circle around the kobolds into a tall wall, soon compressed into something like stone. Then Ed turned his head to stare up at her spell.


    For the first time in years, she saw his face quirk into a real smile, before he turned toward the kobolds theatrically and snapped his fingers. A concussive wave spread through the air in a split second, betrayed only by the stirred-up dust and grass as it passed, and shattered the barrier. Shards of stone tore into the kobolds and buried them. The whole thing had taken four seconds, and could have gone faster if they¡¯d cared to. Things were going fine here.


    ***


    Righmond stared at the floor. He knew Iriala liked to do this kind of thing to intimidate people, but knowing that didn¡¯t make him any more comfortable. How could he ignore her cold, dark gaze when it was locked directly onto his pupils? Why did she just smirk at him? Had he given something away? She had a bearing like some kind of evil queen handing down judgment.


    Sweat trickled along his back and soaked into his pants. Would the stains be obvious? Why did he have to do this stupid job? Why couldn¡¯t they just let him move to a smaller town in the heartlands and live a regular life with Mariella? She was barely related to the royals anyway. It wasn¡¯t like they ever bothered to acknowledge her existence. This ridiculous insistence on maintaining¡­


    ¡°The count will see you now.¡± A calm male voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts. Righmond shifted his gaze to the count¡¯s secretary and nodded. He didn¡¯t trust himself to speak.


    Iriala had no such issues. She smiled pleasantly and rose primly. ¡°Thank you, Art. Please lead the way.¡± The three of them made their way down the hall into a finely decorated conference room, where a table was peppered with documents and a few cleared spaces set with tea cups around a platter of little cakes. Count Narald was waiting with Branchmaster Ambrose of the Adventurers¡¯ Guild and Lord Magistrate Gerold. Apparently they had been having a private meeting before this.


    ¡°Archmage, Guard Commander, please sit. I need to make some hard decisions and require your counsel and cooperation.¡±


    He motioned to Art, who brought forward a pot of tea and served the counselors.


    ¡°Iriala contacted the royal court about our emergency this morning. There isn¡¯t time to mobilize for this, so the kingdom is stripping the garrisons of Alborough, Gobford and Fergefield, and routing half of the currently mobilized first field army here from their maneuvers. There will still be a mobilization of the reserve, but they will be backfilling those locations, not coming here. We should expect the first relief forces here in under four days, but most will take over two weeks.¡±


    The count paused and looked at everyone, clearly expecting some reaction.


    Righmond seemed to be the only person who wasn¡¯t already aware of the news. He huffed. ¡°Yes, good. I¡¯m sure they will clear out these pests in no time.¡± The others looked at him and said nothing. After an awkward pause, the count continued.


    ¡°Ambrose tells me that over 170 adventurers have been lost to the kobolds, and news is spreading. It hasn¡¯t yet been a whole day and almost fifteen percent of the local adventurers have already deregistered with the local branch. I fear we will have to rely on the Guard to defend Halfbridge until the army gets here.¡± The count leaned toward Righmond, clearly trying to impress upon him the significance of his responsibilities.


    Righmond¡¯s guts turned to jelly.


    ¡°Please, be reasonable. We can¡¯t hold off a dragon. We¡¯re not trained for subterranean combat. My men know how to defend walls and arrest criminals, not how to wage a war against legions of monsters!¡±


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    He did not want to die here. He had taken this post to satisfy the demands of his in-laws to provide adequate status and wealth, not to die in some futile attempt to slow down a hungry dragon.


    He wanted to scream. There had to be a solution to this for him. And, just as he had the thought, the solution presented itself.


    ¡°Please, if I might suggest an even more appropriate course of action. Surely you¡¯ve heard the news of how decisive and critical the contribution of a single junior Underkeeper was in the dungeon. This is practically their specialty! In this moment of crisis, I believe Archmage Thurdred and his people are best situated to lead the defense of the municipality. In fact, I believe that in recognition of their tremendous service, it might even be appropriate to expand their charter to include the defense of the city from the threats below.¡±


    Iriala snorted derisively at the guard commander.


    ¡°The Underkeepers are a city maintenance organization¡ªthey are not equipped for war, regardless of Ed¡¯s and a few of the others¡¯ military experience. Are you going to fund the equipment and training needed to transform them into a meaningful fighting force?¡±


    The last question was directed toward Lord Magistrate Gerold, who shook his head.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to scrape our budget and our lending capacities to the bone just to contract some support from what¡¯s left of the Adventurers¡¯ Guild.¡± He glared at Ambrose. ¡°They adjusted their rates significantly to account for the current situation.¡±


    Iriala smirked at that. Righmond had heard she¡¯d offered the support of the Mages¡¯ Guild at an even more outrageous rate. The only other guilds who could be directly contracted to work on a mercenary basis were the Berserkers and the Thieves, but neither had an official headquarters in Halfbridge. The Thieves¡¯ Guild wasn¡¯t exactly well suited for open war, anyway.


    ¡°Several of the local temples,¡± Gerold added pointedly after a pregnant pause, ¡°have sent clerics and even a few paladins to support the defense.¡±


    If the dragon itself moved on the city, all combat-capable citizens could be pressed into service, of course¡ªbut that hadn¡¯t happened. So far, it had only defended itself in its own lair. Kobolds were attacking the city, but they weren¡¯t doing so in large numbers. That alone wouldn¡¯t be enough to force the guilds to move, because the City Guard would be expected to handle it. Righmond¡¯s City Guard.


    Suppressing a groan at the thought, Righmond looked toward the count, who stroked his short beard and eyed him critically.


    ¡°That¡¯s true, but Guard Commander Righmond does make a valid point. The Underkeepers aren¡¯t a military organization, but according to all the reports I¡¯ve heard, they¡¯re doing an excellent job at containing the attacks. Archmage Thurdred is a decorated veteran officer, despite his¡­ shortcomings.¡±


    Iriala said, ¡°And neither you nor anyone else here really wants to bet the lives of our fine city¡¯s residents on Righmond¡¯s competence¡ªnot even the man himself, apparently.¡±


    The guard commander flushed, tempted to defend himself, but he suppressed the urge with some difficulty. She was trying to goad him, but if he could endure this humiliation, he might be able to take his family and leave this horrible city. Even if he couldn¡¯t, he could go back to minding the city gates and local crime rates rather than worrying about an incipient war.


    ¡°Then, if there are no objections, it¡¯s decided,¡± said Count Narald. ¡°Archmage Thurdred will be granted control of the city¡¯s subterranean defense. The Guard will provide two hundred guards to operate under his command, and the Underkeepers will be granted salvage rights inside the dungeon alongside the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. Gerold, please inform the archmage that I expect him to use any resources he can recover to expand his organization in order to better fulfill his new mandate.¡±


    As the count dismissed them, Righmond made his way back outside and allowed himself a sigh of relief. Iriala had embarrassed him, but in the end, only results mattered. There was nothing to be gained from standing in the way of a dragon. Now he was out of harm¡¯s way and, with any luck, that godsdamned muck mage would get himself killed.


    ***


    As she left the meeting, Iriala sighed to herself.


    It wasn¡¯t as bad as it could have been, at least. She¡¯d helped an old friend gain some much-needed leverage, and managed to keep her own guild out of what was likely to turn into a bloody mess. Ed had always thrived on chaos, and he would thrive here, too¡ªeven without proper funding. His two prot¨¦g¨¦s and partners in political suicide, Dayle and Fiora, had a similar temperament. She supposed the life of a war mage shaped people in similar ways.


    She wasn¡¯t like them, and neither were her people. The Mages¡¯ Guild was frequently contracted to provide dungeon security or offer magical support for all kinds of projects, from elaborate construction work for wealthy eccentrics to obscure research projects for the crown. What they didn¡¯t do was get involved in wars. They were academics, or at least craftspeople. They didn¡¯t specialize in combat magic, and most did their best to avoid dangerous situations¡ªlike any sane person.


    And they were her responsibility.


    The count and the magistrate could howl all they wanted¡ªshe wasn¡¯t sending her people to die fighting mobs of kobolds, or anything else. Not without a direct order from the king.


    Besides, once the army arrived, they¡¯d take over the entire operation and all this would be irrelevant. Unless Ed ended up taking over the army. You never really knew with that man.

 29. Health and Safety

    Bernt knew long before he reached his first job site of the day that this wasn¡¯t going to be an ordinary plumbing issue. Dayle had mentioned all the ¡°accidents¡± the city¡¯s alchemists were having lately, and this looked like another one of those.


    The demeanor of the lab¡¯s master alchemist, an iron-haired woman named Theresa, was downright giddy, in stark contrast to the words coming out of her mouth.


    ¡°We had an unanticipated alchemical spill in the lab, involving multiple uncompleted potions and unprocessed magically active ingredients. You know how it is with apprentices. The emergency drainage system protected our facility from serious damage, but I¡¯m afraid the pipes are going to take some work.¡±


    She sighed in feigned frustration. It sounded more like contentment to Bernt. ¡°There¡¯s no telling what the effects on the sewage system might be.¡±


    Bernt glowered. She wasn¡¯t even trying to hide it.


    The stone floor of the lab was scarred with countless chemical burns¡ªbut that wasn¡¯t his problem. Peering down into the drain, he tried to take a look at the real damage.


    Predictably, it was too dark to see. Casting his torch spell, he positioned the bright flame right above the drain and tried again.


    Bright, yellow gold glinted up at him from below. Maybe a handspan down, the entire pipe was obstructed with a solid plug of it.


    Bernt looked up at the alchemist, who smirked back at him evilly. Behind her was an apprentice¡ªpresumably the person he was supposed to believe caused all this. He casually poured an ominously bubbling liquid from a beaker into a small flask that clinked with some reagent or other while reading from a massive tome laid out in front of him. He wasn¡¯t even looking, and he didn¡¯t miss a drop. Then he used a tiny spoon to pour a bit of iridescent powder in.


    A silver-colored flame shot from the mouth of the flask, and the liquid turned into what looked like crystal-clear water. Bernt watched, fascinated. Silver flames. Could he learn to make fire like that?


    ¡°There were some¡­ unexpected effects.¡± The lab¡¯s master alchemist indicated the drain. ¡°You¡¯ll need to extract all of the material for us and repair any damage to the drainage system.¡±


    The gold in the drain was not the only problem, Bernt noted. Jori was approaching the drain from below, and through their bond, he saw an entirely different obstacle. Two gigantic rats leapt at her, seemingly out of nowhere. She responded with admirable speed, ducking down as she gutted the other one with a lightning-quick swipe of her clawed hand. The other disintegrated in searing hellfire a moment later.


    Rats had never stood a chance against Jori, no matter how alchemically enhanced they were¡ªeven before her metamorphosis.


    Those rats, Bernt guessed, were the only actual accident that had happened here¡ªthe habitual illegal alchemical dumping was affecting the local wildlife. This gold-clogged pipe wasn¡¯t part of it. No, this felt like a trap, and not a very subtle one, either. Did she think he would try to steal it?


    He drew his wand and slowly heated the pipe using the spell he¡¯d made up the last time he¡¯d had to fix a drainpipe¡ªat the Temple of Garrus. At least he didn¡¯t have to work out something new.


    The gold melted surprisingly quickly and dripped out of the pipe, each droplet cooling as it hit the vile sludge below. The entire process took less than fifteen minutes, and the alchemist watched him work with an almost friendly expression. It was more than a little disconcerting. She was too attentive.


    When a section of pipe cracked in the heat, Bernt repaired it with a quick earth shaping cantrip, rather than digging it out and replacing it. That wasn¡¯t strictly best practice¡ªhe wasn¡¯t a geomancer, and his fix probably wouldn¡¯t hold longer than one or two years. But he wasn¡¯t about to spend any more time in this place than he had to.


    As he did that, Jori gathered all the little golden beads and carried them up to the nearest access shaft in the street, where Bernt went to collect them.


    Holding the mess in his hand, he noticed immediately that something was wrong. The gold wasn¡¯t gold at all. It was too light, and the sheen was too yellow. Did the alchemist think he hadn¡¯t held real gold before? Bernt handled his considerable savings¡ªwhich were hidden behind a magically sealed brick in a sewer tunnel¡ªalmost every night, counting it obsessively to make sure none had somehow vanished while he was gone. He handled gold nearly as often as your average alchemist, even if he didn¡¯t actually do anything with it.


    If she really was trying to tempt him into stealing her ¡°gold,¡± she wasn¡¯t doing a very good job. Maybe she thought his relative youth made him naive.


    Fortunately, he knew exactly what to do in this situation.


    When he came back inside with both the gold and his still-dry, clean robes, she didn¡¯t look surprised. In fact, her already disconcerting smile widened by a hair.


    That¡­ didn¡¯t bode well.


    Sensing that something was wrong, Bernt looked down at his hand. He held only the strange yellow metal, covered in the usual effluent of the sewers. But¡­ his fingers were starting to tingle a little at the tips.


    Godsdamned alchemists.


    Thinking quickly, Bernt gave her his best professional smile and pressed the handful of reeking, sludge-covered beads into her hand.


    ¡°Here you go! It almost looks like gold, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    With a strangled cry, she dumped them on a nearby table and looked around frantically for something to clean off her hand with. After a moment, she hurried over to a sink, which filled with crystal-clear water as she approached.


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    ¡°How¡­ how dare you!¡± she hissed at him, but Bernt cut her off. He needed to get out of here. The tingling sensation was spreading through his hand, and his fingertips were going numb.


    He spoke in a rush. ¡°You¡¯ll receive an invoice for services rendered by the city of Halfbridge in the coming days. Always a pleasure!¡±


    He heard her furiously order her apprentice to clean up the mess behind him as he marched out of the laboratory, racing toward the Underkeeper headquarters. Maybe a healing potion could fix this. He didn¡¯t want to think about what might happen if he was too slow. What if his hand fell off? Or turned into something¡­ else?


    No, they couldn¡¯t do something like this. It was illegal! There was even an official paper trail. They wouldn¡¯t do anything too permanent¡ªthey couldn¡¯t.


    He¡¯d already walked two blocks before he remembered Ed would be at the breach¡ªnot at the office. Turning, he began jogging toward the dungeon. His entire right hand was completely numb now, fingers hanging limply. The skin had turned pale, almost gray. It looked dead.


    Bernt shuddered. He needed to talk to Ed. He could help him report this¡ªit was an attack! They were destroying his career, or at least trying to force massive medical costs on him. If he couldn¡¯t regain the use of his hand, he wouldn¡¯t be able to cast complex spells. Worse, he wouldn¡¯t be fit to fight! No party would take him on as an adventurer like this, and he might not even be considered fit enough to work the job he had now!


    The entire way back, he couldn¡¯t get the alchemist¡¯s malicious smile out of his head.


    At least he¡¯d gotten back at her.


    When he approached the barricades, sweating and clutching at his dead arm, the guards moved aside for him without questions. One even knocked on the door for him as he approached the command post.


    On the one hand, he was grateful. On the other, he wondered just how bad he looked.


    But he didn¡¯t look down. Not yet. He didn¡¯t want to know that badly.


    The door opened, and Ed stepped out, eyes widening when he saw Bernt. He stopped dead and pulled out his pipe, looking all around as if preparing to fight. One of the guards shrugged at him. Only then did he focus back on Bernt.


    ¡°What in all the hells happened to you?!¡±


    ***


    Ed sat in the magistrate¡¯s office, squinting through his glasses as he studied the obscure document in front of him. The Halfbridge Municipal Procedure for the Disposal of Hazardous Alchemical Substances. Attached was a Job Hazard Analysis signed by one Master Alchemist Theresa, who sat beside him alongside Solicitor Lewisworth, facing Lord Magistrate Gerold.


    ¡°I assure you, Archmage Thurdred, that I provided this document in triplicate to the Underkeepers,¡± Theresa said. ¡°I placed it into the archmage¡¯s predecessor¡¯s own hands, in this very office, just eight years ago. It was officially added to the job training requirements for the Underkeepers at that time. Surely I cannot be held liable for the Underkeepers¡¯ negligence regarding basic job safety training?¡±


    Ed threw an annoyed glare at the alchemist, but said nothing. He had never seen this document before in his life.


    Of course, he also hadn¡¯t ever bothered to read most of the documents in the file cabinets that decorated the head office of the Underkeepers. Considering that this document came out of the magistrate¡¯s archive, it was more than likely legitimate.


    The Solicitor pulled out another document, handed it to the magistrate, and spoke in a clipped, precise tone. ¡°Here is my client¡¯s incident report regarding Underkeeper Bernt¡¯s unfortunate accident. He did not choose to bring the personal protective equipment recommended in the official procedure, and did not appear to recognize the substance from the Magical Material Safety Data Sheet that the Alchemists¡¯ Guild provided to the Underkeepers. I can provide the proof of periodic document review for that as well if needed. I assure you that it has been regularly reviewed and kept up to date for the safety of the city maintenance workers, as required by the Magistrate¡¯s Municipal Maintenance Worker¡¯s Safety Standard.¡±


    This was not how Ed expected this meeting to go. Despite the many substances alchemists dumped into the sewers, Underkeepers were rarely exposed to hazards like this for a very simple reason: sewers were filled with biological material. Anything that could react with a person¡¯s body exhausted its potential to form either waste products or living biological horrors long before any Underkeeper can run into it. Mundane chemicals became far too diluted in the sewer water to pose a significant risk.


    There was no doubt this was intentional poisoning because there was no alchemist in the city who wouldn¡¯t know when they were making a magical toxin. They were too careful¡ªit was inherent to the job. As far as he knew, no one had ever tried something so blatant, either. How could they expect to get away with it? Did Theresa think making this technically his fault would protect her? Did she think this would damage him enough to make him powerless to act?


    She was miscalculating here, he was sure. Though she did have a Solicitor with her, so it was best to tread carefully. This was going to be an awful mess.


    ¡°What now, magistrate?¡± he grunted through his thick scowl. These kinds of shenanigans were not his strong suit, but war tended to create opportunities¡ªas long as you didn¡¯t spend too much time dawdling, that is.


    The magistrate reached into a desk drawer and started rummaging around in it. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I must rule in favor of Master Alchemist Theresa in this case, archmage. You are responsible for both your Keepers¡¯ training and safety equipment. You are liable for damages to Underkeeper Bernt¡¯s wellbeing. I am also writing up your organization for a Systemic Nonconformance to your established basic safety training requirements. Expect an audit in six months. You will need to provide proof of adequate corrective actions.¡±


    Ed grunted his acknowledgment. He¡¯d been outplayed here. Magistrate Gerold pulled out two purses and counted out gold pieces. Nothing was said as coins clinked and the pile grew.


    ¡°Thirty. There we are.¡± He pushed the pile toward Theresa. ¡°This is the rate for a potion of lesser spirit restoration established in your Guild¡¯s contract with the city. Please inform the Guildhall that I expect it to be delivered to my office before nightfall.¡±


    That was more money than he made in a month, and more than a common laborer earned in a year. The alchemist counted the coins and placed them into the purse Gerold provided her, then smiled questioningly at him.


    The magistrate stood and offered her his hand to shake. ¡°Thank you for attending to clear this up, master alchemist. I would like to speak privately to the archmage now.¡± She stood and shook his hand, and then made a long, almost pitying smile down at Ed. For a moment he thought she would say something, but she controlled herself and marched out, followed by a much more indifferent-looking Solicitor.


    Gerold turned to Ed. ¡°The gold will be docked from your pay. You will need to send your Underkeeper here to pick up the potion this evening.¡±


    Ed grunted his assent. That was fine. Bernt probably couldn¡¯t afford the potion anyway, and this was his responsibility as the person who¡¯d sent him into that trap. He wasn¡¯t going to let the alchemists get away with this, though. But what could he do? He needed time to think.


    ¡°There is another thing we should discuss¡­¡± the magistrate went on. ¡°I was in a meeting with the count and Iriala earlier today, and there are some changes coming to your organization. Technically temporary changes, but you know how these things usually go¡­¡±


    Ed nodded thoughtfully. Right. He needed to talk to Iriala. She would know what to do here.

 30. Guidance

    Bernt shook his still disturbingly gray hand, trying to banish the uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles creeping deeper into it. He¡¯d drunk the lesser spirit restoration potion on the way home and felt an immediate effect. That wasn¡¯t to say his hand was fine¡ªit was still healing, and the healing process was more than a little uncomfortable. His hand also looked¡­ horrible. By the time he¡¯d made it to the magistrate¡¯s office to pick up the potion, it had started to desiccate into a gray, mummified-looking husk.


    He shuddered at the memory. The hand didn¡¯t look, well¡­ entirely dead anymore. The skin seemed to have been pulled too tightly over the bones, but this was already an immeasurable improvement. It had been a deliberate attack. A poisoning.


    Now he sat in the only chair he owned in front of a small table that doubled as his kitchen counter and nightstand. It was only early evening, but he had nowhere else to be¡ªEd had sent him home early to pick up the potion and told him to take a day off to rest.


    He was surprised the magistrate¡¯s office would cover the cost of his treatment, but also relieved. While he didn¡¯t know how much the potion cost exactly, it had to have been at least as expensive as a superior healing potion, maybe even more. That alchemist should have been forced to pay for it. She should have been arrested¡ªthere had to be consequences for something like this, right?


    To distract himself from the horrifying memory of his dying hand, Bernt tried to make sense of the journal he¡¯d found, slowly working his way through the archaic language it was written in. He balanced the open book on his lap and took notes on scratch paper with his still-functional left hand. It was tedious. Not just the words and the odd grammar¡ªthe author¡¯s whole mode of expression was strange.


    Still, he made some progress. Several pages were filled with what looked like random thoughts on the interactions of different alchemical ingredients. Some described them in terms of mana interactions, which made even less sense.


    But he could interpret the spell diagrams. They looked vaguely familiar, even though they were obviously impossible to cast. It was something about the overall spell design, but he couldn¡¯t place it because he didn¡¯t understand how it all worked.


    For the first time in his life, Bernt wished he knew more about alchemy.


    There was a firm knock at the door, and Bernt nearly jumped out of his skin.


    No one visited him here. He didn¡¯t exactly advertise where he lived, and he couldn¡¯t think of anyone who would willingly walk into this neighborhood if they didn¡¯t have to.


    Hesitantly, Bernt put the journal on top of his notes and rose, grabbing his wand off of his bed.


    ¡°Who is it?¡± he called.


    ¡°Open up, it¡¯s Ed,¡± came his boss¡¯s familiar voice.


    Bernt frowned to himself. Well, Ed did have his address. But why would he come here? He tucked the wand awkwardly under his dead arm and opened the door to find Ed standing there carrying two books. He looked worn out in a way Bernt had never seen before. It made him look old¡ªwhich Bernt supposed he was, but still¡­ it looked wrong on him.


    ¡°Evening, son. Mind if I come in for a minute?¡±


    Bernt nodded wordlessly and backed up a step to let him in. As an afterthought, he cast a torch spell to properly light the room against the fading light outside. Then he sat down on his bed and offered Ed the chair. There was nowhere else to sit in the tiny room.


    Ed sat, taking in the space around him with a frown. His gaze lingered for a moment on Jori¡¯s sandbox¡ªeven though it was freshly cleaned. Jori herself was still out hunting, which Bernt supposed was for the best.


    ¡°Yorith¡¯s balls,¡± he cursed. ¡°Why do you live like this? I know what you can afford, and it¡¯s a lot better than this.¡±


    Bernt shifted uncomfortably.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to save money,¡± he said, ¡°and adventuring equipment is expensive.¡± Ed knew he wasn¡¯t planning on being an Underkeeper forever¡ªnobody actually aspired to be a lifer in the sewers.


    Ed snorted a laugh.


    ¡°Boy, you¡¯re in too much of a hurry.¡± Then he stopped, and looked down at the books in his hands with a dead expression. ¡°Well. Maybe not.¡± He shook his head, changing the subject. ¡°Ehm. How¡¯s the hand?¡±


    ¡°Uncomfortable,¡± Bernt said, frowning down at it. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe she¡¯s going to get away with it¡ªthe alchemist, I mean.¡±


    Ed sighed. ¡°We can¡¯t prove that she did it deliberately, and her guild apparently did provide specific procedures on exactly how to handle dangerous alchemical substances. Speaking of which, I brought you a copy of the safety procedures. I¡¯ll need to prove to the magistrate that you¡¯ve been trained and certified as part of our ¡®corrective actions,¡¯ so expect a test later.¡±


    Bernt scowled, accepting a rather thick packet of papers. ¡°Fine. I can learn the procedures. But why do the alchemists think they can treat us like this? Why do we let them?¡± His voice rose with each question, and the second one came out as a demand.


    Ed raised an eyebrow, pulled out his pipe and started stuffing it.


    ¡°What do you think I should have done, exactly? I didn¡¯t have a legal leg to stand on¡ªand I really should have made sure you knew how to recognize and handle alchemical hazards. She used your ignorance and my negligence against us, but there¡¯s nothing illegal or punishable about that, even if she admitted that she did it on purpose¡ªwhich she didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an archmage!¡± Bernt insisted. ¡°You¡¯d think they would show a little respect, if only for self-preservation!¡±


    ¡°So, you think I should have threatened her with violence?¡± Ed puffed his pipe for a long moment, humming as he blew out a stream of smoke toward the closed window. ¡°Do you remember a week ago, when you found me in a sewer bleeding out on a kobold¡¯s rusty skewer trap?¡±


    Bernt nodded. How could he forget something like that?


    With an unnecessary flourish, Ed flicked the fingers of one hand in a complicated gesture. The window opened and a rustling of wind carried the smoke cloud outside, leaving the air perfectly clean. He gestured toward it with his pipe.


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    ¡°We can do a lot of incredible things that nobody else can, and it¡¯s easy to start thinking that that makes us special¡ªmore than mortal, somehow. But every mage, no matter how powerful, is one brick to the head away from death. Remember that. Any peasant can kill a mage when he sleeps, and usually if we¡¯re awake too. Maybe not Iriala with her foresight, but you get what I mean. All of us have to play by the rules of society, unless we want to live totally outside of it. If you act like a monster, you will be forced to live like one. Alone, hunted, and hiding in a hole.¡± Ed took another drag of his pipe and squinted at him.


    Bernt swallowed a lump, but that didn¡¯t douse the burning pit in his gut. Shame at his suggestion warred with his sense of righteous fury. He¡¯d been attacked. Why wouldn¡¯t he have the right to defend himself?


    ¡°More importantly in this case, nobody wants to get into a mortal struggle with the alchemists,¡± Ed went on. ¡°That¡¯s how you end up with healing potions that spawn parasitic blood oozes in your brain. An honest miscalculation, they¡¯ll say. Or maybe aerosolized elixirs of berserking will get mysteriously injected into your home so you kill your loved ones. That kind of thing. Fates worse than death, delivered with plausible deniability. That doesn¡¯t even consider how well connected they are to the other guilds and the crown. Nearly everyone depends on them in some way or another. This was a shot across the bow and we need to tread carefully. You got hurt, but the message was for me. I¡¯m going to handle it. Do not get involved.¡±


    Those were not things Bernt had ever heard of before¡ªor even imagined, really. After a stunned moment, he blurted, ¡°Do they really do that? If they¡¯re so dangerous, why doesn¡¯t anyone do something about them?¡±


    Ed¡¯s scowl softened into a blank look Bernt associated with amusement. ¡°They don¡¯t normally do that sort of thing, no, but they could. And weren¡¯t we just talking about archmages using force to subdue their enemies?¡± He sighed and put the pipe back in his mouth. ¡°All the guilds are dangerous, and they all play these kinds of games. Nobody wants to push it too far, but it happens sometimes. The Underkeepers are not a guild, and they didn¡¯t like us interfering with them.¡±


    Bernt opened his mouth to respond, but Ed cut him off with a wave.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t your problem anymore. Now, let me ask you a question,¡± he said, changing the subject. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you attempted an investiture yet? If you want to become an adventurer, or make more money to afford equipment to start, advancing should have been your first priority from the start. Are you having trouble choosing the right architecture?¡±


    Bernt shook his head and rubbed his face. ¡°No. Sort of. You already know I have my basic pyromancer¡¯s qualification, and I do want to go in that direction, but I don¡¯t actually know any pyromantic architectures. I don¡¯t have access to the Mages¡¯ Guild library. The only other way to get access to a good architecture is the military, and I didn¡¯t want to be a war mage¡­ I thought eventually I¡¯d be able to afford guild membership, after I got started as an adventurer.¡±


    A mage could become a magister of their particular specialization by developing an augmentation for it. That augmentation was, essentially, a greater function emerging from the way three investitures in his spirit would combine in his mana network. The design for creating a particular augmentation was the mage¡¯s mana network architecture, or just architecture for short.


    Each investment was done slightly differently depending on the material used, and what investitures the mage already had. That was because each new investiture interacted with those it was attached to. Worse, once an augmentation was complete, all later investitures¡ªthose used to make a second augmentation¡ªwould similarly need to be compatible with that prior augmentation. The more investitures a mage had, the more complicated and dangerous any further modification to their mana network became. A failed investment could have unpredictable effects. It could change how all the mages¡¯ spells worked. In the worst case, it could scramble the mage¡¯s entire mana network, making it difficult or impossible to cast spells at all.


    This was the reason that so few people attempted a second augmentation. It was far more difficult to become an archmage than to become a magister. And, while many archwizards had attempted to form a third augmentation, no one had ever actually managed it¡ªat least no definitively real people. There were plenty of myths and legends.


    ¡°Hmm. I figured it was going to be something like that. I wouldn¡¯t call it a good plan¡ªcoming at it backwards, really¡ªbut at least you had one, I suppose.¡± Ed put the books he¡¯d been carrying down on Bernt¡¯s table. ¡°Be that as it may, I don¡¯t have time for you to get around to developing yourself on your own schedule. Take these and study them. They¡¯re official analyses of different war mage augmentations used in Illuria and the Giant Wastes, including several pyromantic architectures. War¡¯s coming here soon, and you¡¯re going to be fighting in it.¡±


    Bernt stared at the books, eyes wide. War mage architectures were national secrets¡ªreserved for mages who enlisted in the military. Of course, there was no reason that information on foreign war mage architectures would be suppressed here in Besermark. It was something he hadn¡¯t considered, though he probably wouldn¡¯t be able to afford a book like this anyway. This would be incredibly useful.


    ¡°Thank you, I¡¯ll study them carefully¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think too long. Look them over and let me know if you have any questions. You¡¯ll want to get your first investiture as soon as you can.¡±


    Bernt nodded uncertainly. He wanted to read them, of course, but that didn¡¯t mean he just wanted to directly copy one of these architectures. It would make him predictable. These texts were probably required reading for practically every war mage in the country. He didn¡¯t have money or political backing¡ªif I want to make something of himself, he would need something less well-known. That was why he¡¯d wanted to study in the guild library.


    Ed must have read something in his expression, because he snorted and shook his head.


    ¡°Ah, I see. You want to be a wizard.¡± It was a statement, not a question.


    Bernt shifted awkwardly. He hadn¡¯t been planning on that specifically.


    ¡°Look, son, it¡¯s not that rare. A lot of young people want to prove themselves by inventing something new and unique. But you¡¯re going at it from the wrong end. Even successful wizards tend to, for all their years of research and preening egos, end up as magisters, cornered in their development and unable to hold a candle to a standard, interchangeable war mage. Trust me. I am one of those war mages, and I¡¯ve put my share of wizards in the ground in my time.¡±


    Bernt waved for Ed to stop, embarrassed. ¡°No, no. I¡¯ve thought about it, sure. I mean, who hasn¡¯t? I just mean that I need something a little less¡­ typical. Maybe just something rarer to help me stand out, or maybe I can figure out a way to add a little twist of my own.¡±


    Ed patted the books on the table almost fondly. ¡°Look, just read these, and then choose simple and flexible investitures with an open-ended augmentation. You need to grow while still keeping a variety of options for a second augmentation open. That¡¯s how you make it to archmage when you don¡¯t have a design for an archmage architecture to start with. You can figure out the second half when you have some experience under your belt. If you still feel like creativity is that important to your future, you¡¯ll be far more qualified at that time to pull it off without crippling yourself.¡±


    Bernt grunted in assent. He didn¡¯t want to agree, but Ed was the archmage in the room. Plus, he was speaking sense.


    He¡¯d always dreamed of showing those privileged scions who had pushed him around at the Academy that they weren¡¯t better than him. But they had access to secrets he had no hope of discovering, and wielded the genius of past generations against the crumbs left for lesser mages. He wanted to be able to compete, ideally sooner rather than later.


    Bernt knew he wasn¡¯t a genius, but he was persistent and determined. He knew he could find a way. But if Ed said he should wait until he was a magister to get creative, then he needed to at least consider that the man might have a point.


    Trying not to feel disappointed, he picked up the books. It was still an incredible gift.

 31. Betrayal

    Jori jumped from the rooftop in the fading light and flared out her wings, catching on a balcony railing as she descended. She didn¡¯t make a sound as she landed¡ªwhich was good. She couldn¡¯t afford to be seen stalking people in the night. They might think she was up to something.


    In the street below, the evil, bad-smelling alchemist woman walked, chatting amiably with her apprentice. She¡¯d bought him something to eat after they left the alchemist¡¯s shop, and the younger man was cheerfully chomping some kind of incredible-smelling meat pastry. While he ate, the woman explained to him the best technique for preserving and processing kobold blood.


    Jori did her best to ignore that. It was making her hungry and, more importantly, it was distracting her from her task.


    This woman had tricked them. She had summoned the Underkeepers on a false errand and then poisoned Bernt with the shiny yellow rocks. Jori had felt Bernt¡¯s terror and pain. She knew now that he would be fine¡ªshe¡¯d watched him retrieve a potion that was supposed to restore him. But he was still recovering, and he was in pain.


    It was a betrayal, and that was something Jori understood very well. It was a way of life in the place before.


    When someone stabbed you in the back, you didn¡¯t just let things go back to the way they were before. No, that wouldn¡¯t do at all. To leave a challenge like that unanswered was to submit. Bernt hadn¡¯t understood it as a challenge at all, but Jori knew better. She had spent her life submitting to greater powers, but this mortal was not such a one. Jori bared her teeth in a silent snarl, eyes following the bad woman¡¯s every movement.


    She could kill her right here, right now. She could escape easily into the sewers¡ªno one would catch her. Not right away. But she had agreed to behave herself, and the Great Mage and the Great Warlocks would both come for her immediately if she broke her word. There were no other demons in the city¡ªand certainly no other ones who might have a reason to light an alchemist up in hellfire. She could feel the spell bound to her skin, tethered to the mind of the Great Mage in the distance. There was no hiding from her.


    So, she watched instead. If the alchemist woman tried something again, Jori would see.


    Or, if an opportunity presented itself, maybe she could do something¡­ less direct. A proportional response, one that wouldn¡¯t be recognized as a response at all.


    ***


    Gnugg woke from a deep sleep, jostled awake by a sense of momentum. It took a moment before the pain of an impact he hadn¡¯t felt registered on his ribs. Ouch. All around him, whelps were roused in a similar manner as Auntie Dudru made her way through the Warren¡¯s sleeping chamber, like she did every morning.


    ¡°Up, up! Come along children, we have lots to do today!¡±


    Gnugg stepped close to the wall on the periphery of the group to avoid notice, as he usually did. It was safer there.


    They were ushered along out of the room and into a central chamber connected to two other dormitories and a tunnel. The last whelp from Uncle Tugs¡¯s weyr made his way past the central pedestal, where he reverently touched the dragon scale propped up there. Then he kneeled down next to the others, quietly facing the center. Gnugg¡¯s weyr followed suit as they filed past the pedestal, touched the dragon scale, and kneeled in a row on their side for the morning meditations.


    The adults gathered together at one end, bowed toward the scale, and spoke together. ¡°All hail Conperion, Lord of the Deep, Terror of the Dark Halls. Glory to the Great One.¡± All of the whelps repeated the words back in unison.


    It was soothing to Gnugg. Really, it was the only time he felt like part of the group. Silence fell and he closed his eyes, focusing desperately to find the dragon within, like he always did¡ªlike all of them were doing.


    If only he could awaken his blood. Sorcerers didn¡¯t need to be big to be valued. Some sorcerers even grew wings! Oh, what a dream it would be to fly! He would go to the surface where there was no ceiling and just go up forever, far away from here. He would find a new tribe¡ªa new family.


    Gnugg scolded himself and reoriented his thoughts. This wasn¡¯t the way to achieve the dream.


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    He imagined a smoldering fire inside of his veins in place of blood, and fed his thoughts and feelings into them one by one as they arose. To find the power and fury of his dragon blood, a kobold must successfully silence the noise within. So they said, but he had never managed to stop the thoughts from coming.


    As usual, he had achieved nothing when they were roused from the Finding the Dragon meditation. Gnugg returned to the periphery of the group as Auntie Dudru led them to their task for the day. Nobody had spoken to him yet, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.


    He recognized the tunnels and trap patterns here, but couldn¡¯t quite place the location until they passed a door with a familiar set of chips and scuff marks. A sense of nostalgia filled him. This was the nursery! Every kobold spent the first few months of their lives here, though the chambers were oddly empty now. They should be full of whelps. He didn¡¯t need to wait long for an answer to his unspoken question, though. As they entered an unusually warm chamber at the end of the tunnel, he saw a line of empty carts, and a nearly endless field of eggs. There had to be over a thousand of them!


    ¡°Today, you are going to load the eggs from the hatchery into these carts,¡± Auntie Dudru instructed. ¡°There will be others coming by to move these once they are full and bring you more empty carts.¡±


    Gnugg felt puzzled. Why would they move the eggs? Was this busywork? He stepped forward to begin, but was stopped short by Auntie Dudru¡¯s hand on his head.


    ¡°Not you, Gnugg¡ªwe need to have a talk. Follow me.¡± She led him just down the hall to one of the empty nursery chambers. Once there, though, she just stood there looking at him quietly, unnervingly. He was afraid to speak. A cold tingling feeling in his gut built until it threatened to make him throw up, but before it got so far, Uncle Tugs and Auntie Nihsa came in, and the waiting was over.


    ¡°We heard a disturbing story from the other hatchlings, Gnugg,¡± Auntie Dudru began, eyes boring into him. ¡°They said that they were attacked by a demon in the halls. Do you remember something like that?¡±


    Gnugg clutched his shaking hands together and looked at the floor.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said quietly.


    The adults looked at him, clearly expecting more. After a few seconds of silence, Nihsa chimed in. ¡°They said that it attacked them, but not you. That they tried to drive it away together, but you didn¡¯t. Is that right?¡±


    Gnugg swallowed. He didn¡¯t like where this was going at all.


    ¡°Yes?¡± he said again, though it came out hesitantly, like a question this time.


    The adults stared again, then looked at each other, and back at him with¡­ disappointment? Uncle Tugs went down on one knee and grabbed him by the shoulder.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t the demon attack you, Gnugg? Did it offer you something? Did you agree to anything? Did it ask you for any of your blood, or give you any of its own?¡±


    Gnugg tried to step back, startled at that accusation, but the hand held too firmly. ¡°No! It didn¡¯t say anything. I didn¡¯t do anything, I swear!¡± The pressure was too much, and Gnugg felt tears pooling in his eyes again, and a tremor went through his body that Tugs must have felt in his hand.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Uncle Tugs allowed, sighing deeply. ¡°But that¡¯s also part of the problem, Gnugg. You didn¡¯t support your weyr! You¡¯re supposed to be part of this community! You have to fight alongside the others, work alongside them, and die alongside them if need be. For the glory of Conperion!¡±


    ¡°Glory to the Great One,¡± Gnugg intoned automatically along with the other two.


    ¡°You don¡¯t pull your weight when working with the weyr, and you don¡¯t even show the courage or loyalty to fight alongside them when they are attacked. That¡¯s not acceptable,¡± Auntie Dudru chastised. ¡°I¡¯m going to put you on penal labor at the surface front. Maybe after you spend some time working alone, you¡¯ll learn not to freeload on the efforts of your peers.¡±


    _____


    Gnugg trudged through the dark tunnels toward the surface. He felt devastated by the way he was being treated, but he was excited as well. He had practically been thrown away by the community, but also, ironically, he had never felt so in control of his life.


    It was a silly feeling, he knew. He was just going up to present himself to Tunnel Guard Commander Sark, who would put him to work. Most likely, they would force him to do the same thing he¡¯d been doing during the incursion¡ªcarting bodies he could barely budge in the first place. It was supposed to help him grow big and strong, but he suspected that was a lie. They just liked to watch him fail. But he got to choose his own route to the guard commander, and nobody was watching him.


    It was more than he¡¯d ever done alone before¡ªthat made it a victory of sorts.


    He supposed it was a fair punishment, in one way. It was true that he had not tried to defend the weyr from the demon. Why should he have? The demon had come to defend him from the weyr. It was the only one who had ever stood up for him, and he wasn¡¯t going to betray such a kindness with violence. That would be undragonly!


    He was proud of himself for not revealing those details to the adults. Maybe he would see the demon again one day. If it asked him to make a deal with him, he could try to make an agreement with it for real! That would show Auntie Dudru. It would show all of them, and it would serve them right!

 32. Research

    Bernt wasn¡¯t expected to show up to work the next day, so he resolved to spend it studying. Jori had come in sometime during the night, climbing in through the window without waking him. He still didn¡¯t know exactly how she opened it, but he supposed it didn¡¯t matter. She lived here too.


    It was already noon, but she was still asleep¡ªcurled up on top of the stove. He hadn¡¯t wanted to wake her, but he was starting to get hungry now. He needed her to move so he could make himself something to eat.


    ¡°Jori, wake up! Do you want breakfast?¡±


    The demon¡¯s head perked up and she looked around, as if she thought he was holding food out to her right then.


    ¡°I am hungry!¡± she declared, eyes locking onto Bernt, before her face contorted into a plaintive expression. ¡°Where is the food?¡±


    ¡°You need to move, so I can make it.¡± Bernt nudged her off the stove and reached for his pan. She landed with a cranky hiss. He packed the stove with wood, lit it, and began rapidly slicing potatoes into the pan.


    It felt wrong to just feed Jori dried rat meat now that she could talk, so he¡¯d started cooking meals for both of them instead of just himself. Before, he¡¯d thought of her as something of a pet. It wasn¡¯t until he saw how Elyn had reacted to her that he realized he didn¡¯t anymore. Jori was a person, if a very strange one.


    His hand was mostly back to normal, though it was still slightly discolored and his grip felt a little weak. He almost dropped the pan. It wasn¡¯t bad enough to keep him from working, but he wasn¡¯t showing up to work if he didn¡¯t have to. He wasn¡¯t eager to be sent on any more plumbing assignments for the Alchemists¡¯ Guild. He wasn¡¯t sure what exactly Ed could do about Master Alchemist Theresa and her ilk, but he hoped that whatever it was, he would do it soon.


    While he knew he should probably focus on memorizing the safety procedures, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to do it. Instead, he¡¯d spent the morning devouring Ed¡¯s books on various augmentations and their architectures. The ways different investitures interacted with one another weren¡¯t predictable, even if they always seemed logical in hindsight.


    One pyromancer augmentation used by the giants of the Giant Wastes started with an investiture that actually made it more difficult to cohere fire into fireballs, lights or ignition spells. It was worse than useless. But the augmentation it eventually built¡ªin conjunction with two further investitures¡ªallowed the newly minted magister to emit an efficient fire aura at will that would burn anyone who approached them. That made it an incredibly rare personal defense augmentation. While all mages learned defensive spells, these not only consumed a lot of mana, they also usually needed to be actively maintained.


    Unlike traditional pyromancers, these fire giants didn¡¯t specialize in long-range combat. They served as formation-breakers, who simply waded into an enemy army and let their aura scatter their lines.


    That augmentation didn¡¯t suit Bernt, of course. He would need something that could work in tight spaces and wouldn¡¯t endanger his allies. The last thing he wanted was to lead a charge at an enemy army. No, thank you.


    To his surprise, he did find one pyromantic architecture that would work underground. In fact, it was almost too perfect. Bernt was sure that Ed had meant for him to find and choose this one, and that made a very loud part of him want to do something else. He wanted to become extraordinary, somehow, and he couldn¡¯t just blindly go down the first path he was pointed toward. A more rational part of him, however, knew that was childish. His experience in the dungeon had shown him the cost of waiting¡ªand he was certainly fighting kobolds again, soon.


    The architecture in question belonged to the Illurians, and it was used primarily at sea. That made sense, considering that Illuria was a major naval power. The first investiture did essentially the opposite of the fire giants¡¯ aura, condensing flame into an extremely hot, near-liquid state. This could be harnessed to create fireballs that would splash on impact, igniting flammable materials in a wide area.


    The finished augmentation permanently modified fire spells to create a liquid flame that could feed on ambient mana and mundane materials while retaining its liquid-like properties. Illurian pyromancers sank enemy vessels in minutes with flames that dripped down through wooden decks in an unstoppable waterfall of destruction.


    He didn¡¯t really need that augmentation, but the first investiture would be immediately beneficial to him. It would contain the heat of his flames, preventing fireballs from overheating tunnels or underground chambers. It would do horrific damage to anyone directly exposed, but it also wouldn¡¯t burn anyone nearby.


    The problem would be actually performing the investment process. He would need to bind a droplet of burning rain into his spirit, and there were only two ways to get one of those. Bernt might be able to get one from an alchemy supplier, or he could make a trip of over four hundred miles to the Phoenix Reaches, where it fell in a constant shower onto smoldering fire grass. The region was uninhabited by humans, unsurprisingly. Despite that, it was technically under Illurian control, since they controlled the only safe access point.


    Bernt didn¡¯t want to approach anyone even remotely associated with the Alchemists¡¯ Guild. In the best-case scenario, they would price gouge him¡ªhe didn¡¯t even want to consider the worst-case scenario. But he couldn¡¯t just take a month off to travel to a hellish wasteland in another country, either.


    Adding onions and an egg to the pan, Bernt explained the issue to Jori, who looked like she wasn¡¯t listening. He didn¡¯t mind¡ªhe was mostly voicing his frustrations out loud for his own benefit.


    ¡°I mean, come on!¡± he finished a few minutes later. ¡°What¡¯s the point of giving me an ideal pyromantic architecture if I can¡¯t get the thing I need to attempt it?¡±


    ¡°Ask your master,¡± Jori answered, as if stating the obvious.


    Bernt stopped, then shook his head. ¡°He already gave me the books. This would be like asking him to double my pay while he was at it. Do you have any idea how valuable a droplet of burning rain is? I can¡¯t do it.¡±


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    He dished a bit of the food into a bowl for Jori, and held it out to her. She snatched it from him, rolling her eyes.


    ¡°Then ask your party,¡± she said, in the same tone as before.


    Bernt ground his teeth in frustration. She didn¡¯t understand.


    ¡°I¡¯m already taking a standardized pyromantic architecture from a book. The first investiture for it, anyway. It was handed to me on a plate. I can¡¯t just¡­ let somebody hand me the materials for it, too. Then I would be just like them.¡±


    Jori squinted at him dubiously. Then she leaned slowly toward him and sniffed at the air.


    ¡°You do not smell like a kobold,¡± she said, as if that settled it.


    ¡°What? No! I mean, I¡¯d be like all of the others. People who just take what¡¯s given to them. It¡¯s a bad habit. It¡¯s safe, but it¡¯s also a trap. That¡¯s what I always liked about wizards. They don¡¯t just invent their own augmentation for fun, or to make something new. I mean, maybe some of them. But I think it¡¯s about expressing who and what you are through your power and not allowing someone else to define you. If I¡¯m already going to borrow someone else¡¯s ideas, I have to make them my own, somehow, from the very beginning. Even if I go with something boring like this, it has to be personal, somehow. That means, at the very least, that I should solve this myself. Maybe I could steal it from the Alchemists¡¯ Guild or¡ª¡±


    Bernt stopped as something hit his shoulder and a tiny clawed hand slapped him across the back of the head. Jori was sitting on his shoulder¡ªhe hadn¡¯t even seen her move. She was surprisingly strong.


    ¡°Ask the party how to get fire water yourself!¡±


    ¡°But I know how to¡­¡± Bernt started to protest halfheartedly, but he stopped himself. He didn¡¯t know how to get it¡ªnot really.


    He sighed. He couldn¡¯t just sit around feeling sorry for himself and thinking in circles all day, and this was a way forward.


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    Jori shook her head in a far too human gesture, grumbling as she returned to shoveling potatoes into her mouth.


    ¡°Needs spicy pepper,¡± she commented, smacking her lips.


    ***


    Bernt knocked on the door of the Halfbridge Orphanage, listening to the clamor of playing children inside. He was on his way to see Therion¡ªhe was! But he had time for a quick detour.


    He wasn¡¯t stalling. No¡ªhe still needed to let Farrin know that he couldn¡¯t show up to teach tonight. He¡¯d already missed the last lesson when he was in the dungeon, but as far as she knew, he¡¯d been taking a vacation. He was supposed to start again today.


    When the door opened, though, it wasn¡¯t Farrin. A tiny gnome girl no more than ten years old was hanging from the latch, which she¡¯d jumped up to to open the door. She dropped to the floor and beamed up at him.


    ¡°Bernt, you¡¯re here! Where have you been? You¡¯re not going to believe what just happened!¡±


    Bernt smiled.


    ¡°Hi, Trip, do you know where Farrin is?¡±


    Trip put her hands on her hips and glared at him. ¡°Just listen! The magefinders were here¡ªthey said I¡¯m a good candidate for the Mages¡¯ Academy!¡± As she talked, her expression morphed back into one of barely restrained excitement until she was practically singing.


    At that, Bernt stopped. ¡°Wow, really? When do you go?¡± It wasn¡¯t unheard of for the magefinders to pull someone out of the orphanage¡ªit had happened to him, after all. Of the general population, nearly one in a hundred people was talented enough to attract the attention of the magefinders. It was a surprise that they hadn¡¯t found anyone else at the orphanage sooner, all things considered.


    ¡°Next year at the start of term!!¡± she gushed. ¡°I¡¯m going to be a researcher¡ªan archwizard! I¡¯m going to unravel the secrets of the universe!¡±


    Only about two-thirds of the acolytes recruited to the Academy ever managed to cast their first spell, and not all of those would graduate. Dropouts often apprenticed themselves to the Enchanters¡¯ or the Alchemists¡¯ Guilds¡ªboth places where a prior magical education could provide an enormous benefit. But Bernt supposed this wasn¡¯t the time to cast doubt on her aspirations.


    ¡°That¡¯s incredible!¡± He crouched down, and put a hand on her little shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ll do great. Just do your best, and don¡¯t forget where you came from. You can come talk to me if you need help, alright? Mama Farrin knows how to find me.¡±


    ¡°Bernie, is that you? Why would she need to go find you?¡± came Farrin¡¯s voice from the hallway beyond the door.


    ¡°For emotional support,¡± Bernt replied with a tight smile. The old woman looked confused for a second. Then her gaze flicked down to Trip and she nodded in comprehension.


    ¡°Right. So, what are you doing here? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be at work?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ that¡¯s part of it,¡± Bernt said. ¡°I¡¯m not going to make it to the lesson today, I¡¯m sorry. There was an incident at work¡­¡±


    ***


    It was nearly an hour later and with a belly full of stale tea cakes that Bernt finally arrived at the Upper District¡ªa relatively recent addition to the city where many of the city¡¯s wealthy merchants and successful adventurers lived. Though it was technically outside the main city¡¯s walls, the district¡¯s residents had financed the construction of their own outer walls, which were incidentally quite a bit higher and thicker than the city wall at their back. It made the district not only the wealthiest, but also the best-protected part of the city after the castle itself.


    The place felt wrong somehow to Bernt. It was too clean, too quiet, and there weren¡¯t enough pedestrians. Where food carts and hawkers crowded every corner in the main city, the Upper District had restaurants and dedicated entertainment venues¡ªtheaters, art galleries, and a dedicated training ground for adventurers, complete with stands for spectators.


    Bernt rarely came up here¡ªsomething he was glad for. Fiora handled sewer maintenance in this district and, from what he¡¯d heard, it involved less actual maintenance work than it did managing the overinflated egos of the residents.


    He knew where Therion lived because everyone knew. His father, after all, was the kind of famous that made it impossible not to know. Garius Treespeaker was the second-highest-ranked adventurer in Halfbridge at rank 11, just one below Branchmaster Ambrose. The house in question was large, opulent, and centrally located. At least, it was large in Bernt¡¯s view. As far as the Upper District was concerned, it was just a bit bigger than average.


    The front path cut through a garden that was meant to look as though it had been left to grow wild, but was also so beautifully composed that it had to have been carefully cultivated. The walk was so long that Bernt couldn¡¯t help but feel he was intruding just by walking up to the door without announcing himself first in some way. But then he was standing in front of the door, and there was nothing left to do but knock.


    He raised his hand and gave the heavy oak a few solid raps with his knuckles before realizing there was a heavy silver knocker he probably should have used instead.


    Oh well.


    The door swung open, revealing¡­ not Therion.

 33. A Political Mindset

    ¡°I¡¯ve suspended assignments for the Alchemists¡¯ Guild entirely,¡± Ed said, sighing as he picked up his cup of tea for a sip. It was made of delicate porcelain, decorated with flowers around the rim. The tea matched the cup in quality. He inhaled the fragrant steam, enjoying the scent. ¡°We¡¯ve been ordered to review all safety procedures regarding hazardous waste disposal, so we can¡¯t possibly put our employees at risk until they¡¯ve been properly certified. I preemptively sent word to both the Alchemists¡¯ Guild and the magistrate expressing my regrets, so there¡¯s no chance of any complaints coming back to burn us from their end. I also suggested to Gerold that, in light of our new responsibilities, it might take a while for us to get around to all that alchemical safety training. He didn¡¯t like it, but he didn¡¯t try to argue with me, either.¡±


    He was quite proud of his solution, even if it was only temporary. He would still need a permanent deterrent, but that was why he was here.


    Iriala watched him over the rims of her glasses, sipping her own tea pensively.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not terrible. But you¡¯re approaching this with the wrong mindset, I think,¡± she finally said, setting the cup down. ¡°You¡¯re still thinking like a soldier¡ªsomeone strikes at you, and you hit them back.¡±


    Ed frowned, confused. ¡°And? What¡¯s wrong with that? I¡¯m turning their own game back against them. That¡¯s good tactics, using what they gave me. If I can make sure that playing games with me comes at a cost, I can encourage them to think twice before doing it.¡±


    ¡°Sure, it¡¯s not bad. But this is politics. You need to look at the bigger picture. It¡¯s not just about defeating your rivals, it¡¯s about using them to benefit yourself. Soldiers kill an enemy, loot a bit, and go home. It¡¯s charming in its simplicity, but limited. A great politician transforms her enemy into a stepping stone, one forced to smile and congratulate her while she ascends to greater power.¡±


    Ed grunted a laugh. Iri had always talked like this, even when they were young. He¡¯d known when he came to visit her today that she was going to make him feel stupid, but that was the price you paid for Iri¡¯s help. All things considered, that made it cheap. If he could have solved this on his own without burning the city to the ground, he would have already done it.


    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± he sighed, trying not to scowl too much. ¡°Out with it. What have you got for me?¡±


    She smiled a little knowing smile, displaying unnaturally white teeth.


    ¡°Do you happen to know what castrum root is used for?¡±


    Ed rolled his eyes. ¡°No, Iri, I¡¯m not an alchemist.¡± She would have a point, he was sure¡ªbut he hated questions like this. She loved being all mysterious.


    ¡°It has some natural mental stabilizing effects¡ªit¡¯s used by herbalists to treat melancholy, for example. Anyway, the important part is that it doesn¡¯t grow here, and it¡¯s the base component for mind fortress elixirs¡­¡± She nodded at him, smiling and raising her eyebrows meaningfully. ¡°And the alchemists don¡¯t know that our old friend Righmond has two hundred guards that he¡¯s about to loan out to the Underkeepers. To you!¡±


    Ed groaned. ¡°Iri, not even an Acolyte of Aedina could follow your train of thought the way you¡¯re jumping around. Just tell me what you¡¯ve got. I¡¯m very busy¡ªthose damned kobolds could launch another assault any minute. I wouldn¡¯t even be here if I didn¡¯t have two trained war mages on staff to hold down the front line for me. I had to pull Fiora off desk duty.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Dayle¡¯s got it handled over at the breach,¡± Iriala replied, glancing down into her glasses. ¡°He¡¯s making quite a mess, too. Do you think he¡¯s holding a grudge?¡±


    She gestured, projecting a live image into the air between them. Dayle was facing down an incoming band of kobolds while holding nothing but his focus¡ªa standard-issue military trench shovel Ed himself had given the man to celebrate his promotion to magister-sergeant over a decade ago. He¡¯d traded a month¡¯s supply of his best tobacco to get their regiment¡¯s enchanter to turn it into a solid focus for him.


    Ed knew why there were no guards providing cover for him. Only an idiot would stand between an artillery mage and his target. They¡¯d be nearby to step in if anyone came too close.


    As if on cue, Dayle twisted his back and shoulders, swinging the blade of the shovel down into the solid stone floor of the sewers. It sank in with a loud crack, and hundreds of razor-sharp chips of stone blasted at the oncoming kobolds, leaving a neat trench in the stone. Dayle had incorporated a single geomancy investiture into his standard-issue force architecture, and the results hadn¡¯t been quite¡­ standard. As far as Ed knew, Dayle¡¯s antipersonnel capabilities were unique.


    And it did make an awful mess.


    Ed grunted noncommittally as the image vanished. He knew he didn¡¯t feel very charitable toward the little lizard bastards, and they¡¯d only stuck him with their stupid trap, not kidnapped him.


    ¡°Anyway, we have time, so let me have some fun here,¡± Iriala continued. ¡°You should start by investing in castrum root. Heavily. If you play this right, you¡¯ll solve the Underkeepers¡¯ budget issues and leave the Alchemists¡¯ Guild begging you for mercy inside a week.¡±


    ***


    Bernt had, for some reason, always pictured Garius as an imposing man dressed in earth tones and a green or brown cloak¡ªthe quintessential image of a ranger. The living legend standing in front of him looked¡­ normal. Smaller than he¡¯d expected. And he dressed in blue. Still, there was no mistaking him. There was a statue of him in Halfbridge¡¯s Adventurers¡¯ Guild, and he looked uncannily like an older, slightly broader version of Therion with a face like tanned leather.


    ¡°Hi there, how can I help you?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Bernt responded, caught entirely off guard. He¡¯d expected Therion, or maybe a servant, to open the door. ¡°I was looking for Therion. Is he home?¡±


    The older man eyed his robes. ¡°Ah, good! You¡¯re the young Underkeeper warlock that saved the day down in the dungeon, then.¡± His face split into a broad smile. ¡°I was worried that you were here to open up the sewer. There¡¯s an access shaft in the alley behind the house. I had your boss close it up tight with a proper hatch a few years ago, but it always stinks up the whole house whenever someone opens it. Those are the things nobody tells you when you buy a place, let me tell you!¡±


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Bernt did his best to nod politely and make noises of agreement, until he actually registered what the man was saying.


    ¡°Ah. I¡¯m not a warlock, actually. The demon was just¡­ helping me out,¡± Bernt tried to explain.


    ¡°Really? Well, isn¡¯t that interesting!¡± Garius went on animatedly, stepping outside and wandering down the path. The man was far chattier than Bernt would have imagined someone who stalked terrifying monsters through deadly forests could be. ¡°Did you make an informal deal? That kind of thing can be pretty risky, you know. Well, are you coming?¡±


    The man had stopped and gestured for Bernt to catch up.


    ¡°Therion is training over at the arena with Furin, Syrah and Elyn, I¡¯ll walk you over.¡± Garius went on, picking up where he left off. ¡°They¡¯re working on ways to overcome charm spells. Countering that kind of thing is both painful and expensive, but worth it if you know you¡¯re walking into a nest of mind sorcerers.¡±


    ¡°Ah, thanks,¡± Bernt replied. Now that he thought about it, Therion was only the second-best person to ask about this. ¡°I was just coming by to ask Therion if he knew of a way to get a droplet of burning rain¡­ without going through the Alchemists¡¯ Guild.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I heard you guys had some trouble with them. But why bother going around them? They like money as much as anyone. It¡¯s for an investiture, right? A fancy, rare magical substance like that? You should at least try them. Even if they hate you, they might like the idea of putting you in their debt.¡±


    Bernt did not like that idea.


    ¡°Yea, but they might just decide to gouge me instead, which would be just as bad.¡±


    Garius shrugged. ¡°If you say so. Do you really need to do that investiture right now? I mean, you¡¯ve already got yourself a reputation as a warlock. It¡¯ll be hard to get adventuring work now, and it could take you years to convince people that you¡¯re not going to sacrifice their pets in a ritual or something. If you¡¯re really in a hurry to grow, it would probably be simpler to pact your demon friend. At least you¡¯d get something for your trouble, making it official like that.¡±


    Bernt made a face, but kept his voice even. ¡°I¡¯m not aiming to become a warlock, even if that might be easier.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ you¡¯d be surprised what kinds of moves you make when your back is to the wall.¡± For a second, the cheerful expression slipped off of Garius¡¯s face, and he suddenly looked old and worn. Then the smile was back, as quickly as it had disappeared. ¡°Warlocks can be very powerful, and having a background as a mage is an enormous advantage! At least, that¡¯s what I hear. I knew a berserker once who became a warlock¡ªnow, that was something to see.¡±


    As the legendary ranger went off on a tangent about what a demonic pact could do for a berserker, Bernt worked through his surprise at hearing someone speak so positively about what he¡¯d always understood as a class of pariahs. To hear Garius tell it, warlocks were tragic heroes as often as they were power-hungry, scheming maniacs. Granted, the adventurers in the dungeon had barely been fazed by Jori. Maybe they were just more pragmatic than normal people.


    Still, he wouldn¡¯t do it. It wasn¡¯t that he couldn¡¯t trust Jori¡ªit was that people wouldn¡¯t trust him anymore. More than that, he didn¡¯t want to borrow someone else¡¯s power if he could help it. It just didn¡¯t feel right. Thankfully, Bernt didn¡¯t have to work out a way to explain this to the talkative adventurer, since they arrived at the same training ground Bernt had passed earlier. Walking past several open sparring areas, they entered the main building, where they found Bernt¡¯s party, minus Oren.


    Elyn stood in front of the rest of the group, flute raised to her mouth and playing a tune. To him, it sounded completely ordinary, but he supposed he also wasn¡¯t being targeted. Furin was dancing a little jig while Therion was down on his knees, clinging to the ground as if he thought he was about to fall up into the sky. Only Syrah was unaffected, standing still and calm, her entire head shrouded in a golden halo.


    Elyn stopped playing and lowered her instrument.


    ¡°Oh, come on, Syrah! That¡¯s not fair. I can¡¯t overcome a god!¡±


    Furin stopped his jig and glared at Elyn.


    ¡°Elyn. I. Do not. Dance.¡±


    The half-elf giggled at the giant dwarf. ¡°Come on, Furin, you looked like you were having such a great time. I should take you dancing for real sometime!¡±


    Furin took a breath to respond to Elyn, but then stopped and looked down at Therion, who was still on the ground.


    ¡°Hm. Syrah?¡± he asked, gesturing down at the quivering man.


    Syrah did a double take, just now noticing that Therion was down.


    ¡°Oh, sorry, Therion!¡± she called out. She hurried over and put her hands on the mage¡¯s head, whispering something. Golden light glowed briefly, and Therion relaxed onto the ground before rolling on his back. He groaned.


    ¡°Ugh¡­ it¡¯s still too much. I have to dial it down more.¡±


    ¡°Hey, son!¡± Garius called with sparkling eyes and a gigantic, shit-eating grin. Bernt could see Therion close his eyes in despair from where he stood. ¡°Are you winning?¡±


    ¡°No, Dad,¡± groaned Therion. ¡°I¡¯m trying to modify a fear spell to counter Elyn¡¯s charm effect, and now instead of being charmed, I just get incapacitated.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll get it!¡± Garius said. ¡°You just need practice. What about Furin? You looked like you were having a bit of trouble there, my friend!¡±


    Furin sighed, clearly frustrated. ¡°I could use a mind fortress elixir, but with my enhancements, I¡¯m supposed to be able to adapt to these kinds of attacks with enough practice. I¡¯ve been immune to fear spells for years, I don¡¯t know why charms should be so much harder to overcome¡­ Oh, hi there, Bernt.¡±


    Bernt had never heard Furin say so many words in a row. When Furin noticed him, Therion sat up, and Syrah gave a nod, more friendly now that Jori wasn¡¯t there with him. Elyn waved cheerily as Garius pulled Furin away, asking him for details on how his ¡°enhancements¡± worked. Bernt didn¡¯t know what all the different kinds of physical fighters did to compete with spellcasters, but there were many rumors about secret rituals, divine blessings, and horrific alchemical conditioning that melded a fighter¡¯s spirit into their physical body. The investment process wasn¡¯t free of risks or pain, but he was glad he would never have to do anything like that.


    ¡°Hey Bernt,¡± Elyn said. ¡°Want to join the fun? How¡¯s Jori?¡±


    ¡°Uh, she¡¯s fine,¡± Bernt responded. ¡°I actually came to ask you guys for some help¡­¡± He struggled to decide where to start. ¡°Therion, you remember a few weeks ago, when I cited Master Alchemist Julian for illegal dumping and you managed to get him thrown out of the city for it?¡±


    Therion huffed a laugh. ¡°Yeah, that was awesome. That guy was the worst¡ªI can¡¯t believe he didn¡¯t get thrown out sooner!¡±


    Bernt hunched his shoulders slightly, grimacing at the memory. ¡°Uh. It might not have been such a great idea after all.¡±


    He was also feeling a little resentful toward Therion for pushing the issue as far as it had gone. But realized that was irrational¡ªhe¡¯d been glad at the time and neither of them could have known they would go this far. Quickly, he explained what had happened to him the day before, and his current predicament. ¡°Your father says I should just try to buy the burning droplet from them anyway.¡±


    Therion looked over to Elyn. ¡°Yeah, why not? Hey, we wanted to go down to the market anyway, right? Why don¡¯t we just go together? If they don¡¯t want to sell to you, I bet I can talk the alchemist¡¯s supplier into a deal!¡±

 34. Enchanting Spirits

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but our supply of burning rain is extremely limited right now,¡± the merchant said, eyeing Therion in a manner that seemed less than friendly to Bernt. ¡°The guild is buying up everything to produce alchemical fire grenades in anticipation of the army¡¯s arrival. You would need to approach the guild council representative directly to acquire any, and I can tell you right now that they would refuse.¡±


    Therion scowled at the man and gritted his teeth, but he controlled his tone. ¡°And why would that be, exactly?¡±


    The alchemists¡¯ supplier rolled his eyes. ¡°Because they need it! Also, yes, we know who you are and who your father is. The guild may not be willing to make an enemy of you, but they aren¡¯t going to bend over to do you any favors either. Especially¡±¡ªhe nodded meaningfully to Bernt¡ª¡°not any that involve him.¡±


    Bernt had no idea how so many people could recognize him on sight now. Had the guild distributed pictures or a description? Or did they just recognize his robes and refuse to do business with all of the Underkeepers?


    ¡°Come on,¡± Bernt said. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here. I have one more idea of a place I could ask.¡±


    Grixit¡¯s stand wasn¡¯t set up in the same spot as before, but it was close enough that Bernt had no trouble finding the goblin merchant, who greeted him with a wave.


    ¡°Ah, the young Underkeeper! How¡¯s the thorn skin amulet treating you?¡±


    Bernt reached up to his neck, but he wasn¡¯t actually wearing the uncomfortable trinket. Right, it was back home in his chest.


    ¡°It¡¯s good!¡± he answered. ¡°It probably saved my life in the dungeon a few days ago, actually, but I noticed that it started to deteriorate. Some of the thorns came off. Is that normal?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Grixit shrugged. ¡°The materials can¡¯t hold up indefinitely, and the spirit wouldn¡¯t stick around forever in any case. They¡¯ve got their own business to be about, after all.¡±


    Bernt stopped at that, glancing over to Therion, who shrugged at him, just as confused as he was.


    ¡°Uh¡­ spirit?¡± Bernt prompted.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Grixit responded, raising one eyebrow.


    ¡°What do you mean? There¡¯s a spirit in my amulet?¡±


    Grixit snorted. ¡°Of course there¡¯s a spirit in your amulet! A bit of one, at least. How did you think it worked? If you want magic done right, you get a magical creature to do it!¡±


    That¡­ wouldn¡¯t be completely insane, Bernt supposed, if it wasn¡¯t also completely unheard of. As far as he knew, anyway.


    ¡°But isn¡¯t that dangerous?¡± Therion asked, voicing Bernt¡¯s own first question before he could. ¡°How do you bind a spirit into an object? And how do you get it to do what you want? It has a will of its own, so couldn¡¯t it just¡­ not work as intended?¡±


    Grixit put his hands on his hips, looking offended now.


    ¡°I don¡¯t bind spirits!¡± he exclaimed. ¡°What¡¯s the matter with you? You have to cultivate a relationship, make a deal, ask what they¡¯d like in return and honor your word!¡±


    Ah. So that was what the thing with the blood was about. The spirit wanted it for¡­ something. Bernt wasn¡¯t entirely sure what a spirit might want his blood for, but he hoped it was just using it to siphon power¡ªliterally recharging itself. He was still trying to absorb the idea that a spirit could even do this.


    Looking over, he saw that Therion¡¯s mouth was hanging open a bit as he stared at the little merchant, just as stunned as Bernt. How had they never heard of this?


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± Grixit grumbled, calming down a little. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault if you humans don¡¯t talk to the spirits. The elves aren¡¯t so ignorant! Look at her, she¡¯s got one right there!¡±


    Both of the humans turned to look at Elyn. The half-elf, who Bernt just now realized was standing two entire paces behind the two of them, moved both hands to her belt, covering her flute protectively as her face flushed in consternation.


    ¡°Hey!¡± she hissed at Grixit in a loud whisper. ¡°That¡¯s a trade secret of the Bardic League! You can¡¯t just go trumpeting something like that around. I could get censured!¡±


    Bernt shook his head.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to need you to explain some things about my amulet to me in a minute. I have another question, first¡­ Do you have any way to get a droplet of burning rain from the Phoenix Reaches?¡±


    Grixit smiled. ¡°Sure I do! Assuming, of course, that you can wait a couple of months for it. The Alchemists¡¯ Guild bought up the only vial I had yesterday. They¡¯re probably trying to get ready for that army that¡¯s heading our way. I hear they use it for alchemical fire grenades or something. They¡¯ve been scouring the whole city for all the usual war-type reagents.¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Bernt sighed. Another dead end.


    ¡°Mmh, okay. How much to tell me more about those spirits?¡±


    Grixit smiled. ¡°What would you like to know?¡±


    Elyn huffed and wandered off to another stall.


    ***


    Elyn and Therion had a list of things they wanted to buy from the market, and Bernt accompanied them from one store to the next as they bought potions, a backup focus for Therion, and an enchanted, single-use skeleton key that would open most locks. All the while, the other two flirted with each other¡ªsubtly at first, but they were more into it with every passing minute. Therion made an effort to include Bernt in the conversation regardless, but Bernt still felt uncomfortable. When they circled around to the enchanter¡¯s shop, he excused himself, explaining that he didn¡¯t want to repeat his last encounter with the shop¡¯s proprietor.


    As he left, he noticed for the first time just how few people were browsing the stalls and shops. He knew that many adventurers had died in the dungeon, but the market usually hummed with activity. It wasn¡¯t just used by higher-ranking adventurers. Where were all the low-rankers?


    Bernt hoped they were fighting kobolds, but he had a feeling that wasn¡¯t it. Adventurers weren¡¯t heroes, and few people would get into a fight if they thought there was a real chance they might be eaten by a dragon.


    Still, that seemed a bit cowardly to Bernt. There was an army coming to take care of it, after all. Dismissing the thought, Bernt considered what he¡¯d learned from Grixit instead.


    According to the goblin, the spirit whose fragment was inhabiting his amulet wasn¡¯t nefarious. In the deep past, it had preyed on travelers and animals, draining their blood to fuel its development and allow it to manifest physically. When the goblins of Goblins¡¯ Delve encountered it, they¡¯d given it a name¡ªVael. Grixit¡¯s Clan, the Vael-Dirin, had been interacting with it for centuries, and making deals for protection and power in exchange for strictly limited amounts of blood. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure if he understood correctly, but it almost sounded as though the goblins revered it like a god.


    That brought up some very strange questions. Was the goblins¡¯ relationship to their guardian spirit more like that of a warlock to a demon, or like a priest to their deity? It hadn¡¯t sounded like a formal pact, so much as a simple handshake type of agreement. But one didn¡¯t make deals with deities at all. Clerics had to prove their faith and devotion, working to gain the attention and favor of their god to grow in power. Vael, and the other lesser spirits that goblins interacted with, just wanted¡­ stuff. While Vael apparently favored the blood of sapient beings, others would trade favors for family heirlooms, labor, food, or even a musical performance.


    Strangest of all, though, was that Bernt hadn¡¯t heard of this before. How could the Mages¡¯ Guild not be aware of how bards gained access to sorcerous abilities? Mages studied all forms of magic intensely in hopes of gaining a greater understanding of the underlying arcane structure of the universe¡ªso why not look into shamanistic practices? Or, if they did, why wouldn¡¯t they teach it to their students?


    He would have to ask Ed or maybe Fiora about it.


    Snickering brought Bernt out of his reverie, and he looked up to discover his feet had taken him past the Academy by force of habit. It was the most direct route home from the Gateside Market, but he usually avoided it.


    A group of students in acolyte¡¯s robes were staring at him, and one was pointing. Those stares had always made him feel humiliated and angry, but now¡­ though the students were only barely three years younger than him, they seemed like a bunch of children. They looked at his Underkeeper¡¯s robes and saw someone who¡¯d failed¡ªsomeone who couldn¡¯t afford the Mages¡¯ Guild and was rejected by the military, too weak or unskilled to become a war mage.


    But Bernt hadn¡¯t tried to join the military. He didn¡¯t want to be a soldier, forced to risk his life for someone else just to get his hands on a half-decent architecture for his ascension to magister. So, he¡¯d applied to join the Underkeepers¡ªapparently the first mage to do so in a generation. Why shouldn¡¯t he? The pay was acceptable, even for a mage. It was just the stigma of the job that bothered him. Alright, the work environment wasn¡¯t always rosy, but what did it matter?


    His path was the only one that would allow him to pursue power without selling himself out along the way, short of going adventuring practically naked, anyway. He was the one who had made his choices, and as far as he was concerned, he¡¯d made the right ones. What did it matter if these students understood him? They hadn¡¯t even set one foot into the real world yet!


    At that moment, Bernt felt a spike of alarm through his bond. Jori was far away, in the direction of the Crafters¡¯ District. For him to have felt her at all from here meant she¡¯d had quite a shock, and he doubted that could be the result of encountering a rat in the sewers.


    Ignoring the looks he received, Bernt started running.


    As far as he could tell, Jori wasn¡¯t afraid, but that didn¡¯t mean she wasn¡¯t in trouble. If she hurt someone in the town, Iriala would come after her. In the worst case¡­ Bernt couldn¡¯t stop his overactive imagination. He tried to banish his mental image of a horde of kobolds swarming the sewers as the Underkeepers and City Guard were overwhelmed. If he wanted to be of any help, he needed to concentrate on finding the fastest route down there.


    ***


    Jori faced her opponent, hellfire blazing in her left hand. She held it palm up, so it wouldn¡¯t burn her. It still kind of hurt, but she needed it to establish who was boss here. And that was her. She was the boss here! That was just what you did when you met an unknown demon. The hierarchy had to be clear.


    Blood fiends ate other demons to get stronger, but this one was very weak for its kind. It had nearly scared her back to the hells when she first saw it, making her think she¡¯d been caught snooping on the alchemist woman, Theresa. She had been sitting in the sewer right under the bad woman¡¯s shop, after all. But now, seeing who this was, she was certain the location of this encounter was just a coincidence.


    She didn¡¯t know of any innocuous reason for one of these disgusting monsters to be in the city¡ªand she doubted it could have snuck into the city from outside¡­ Most importantly, there were no other demons here as far as she had ever seen. None except Jori herself.


    Which meant an especially weak warlock, clearly not one of the Great Ones, had most likely summoned a blood fiend to kill her. A very big, very bad man trying to cover his tracks, she would guess.


    Her blood-red eyes narrowed, and the blood fiend cowered back from her flames, pressing itself against the wall with a pained hiss.


    ¡°Who is your master?¡± Jori demanded.

 35. The Secret of Hellfire

    Bernt¡¯s stomach tied itself into knots as he entered the Crafters¡¯ District and approached Master Theresa¡¯s Alchemy lab, hoping that wasn¡¯t his destination. If Jori had gotten herself caught by the alchemists, he didn¡¯t know what he was going to do. What could they do with a demon?


    Her blood alone was probably some kind of alchemical treasure trove. Some kinds of demon blood were supposed to have unique properties, combining fire and the more sinister aspects of soul and blood magic. He was sure there were exotic potions an alchemist could make with that.


    Wait a second.


    Bernt stopped mid-stride for a second, struck with a thought. Why hadn¡¯t he considered that before? It burned hot when exposed to the air and it flowed¡ªobviously¡ªlike blood should. Considering that it was obviously a powerful alchemical reagent, there was no reason it shouldn¡¯t work for an investiture as well. It was worth looking into, at least¡­ he might learn something. If he was lucky, it might even be similar enough to the burning rain to use without taking too much of a risk.


    But that was something to worry about later. He could see through Jori¡¯s eyes now, and she was staring down what looked like another demon¡ªthough not one he¡¯d ever seen. He felt her hand hurting as she held a ball of flickering hellfire to the creature¡¯s face.


    It was a squat, four-armed demon with the most disgusting face he¡¯d ever seen. Its skin was oddly mucosal and it had no eyelids as far as Bernt could tell. Its features were uneven, its mouth bulging horrifically, unable to contain a seemingly random combination of sharp and blunt teeth.


    Bernt didn¡¯t want to be seen anywhere near the alchemist¡¯s shop, so he descended into the sewers using an access shaft in an alley some distance away. An inhuman screech echoed toward him. Jori was questioning the little monster, which whimpered desperate responses in a language Bernt didn¡¯t understand.


    When he arrived, he saw that part of its face was now bright red and blistering.


    ¡°Where did you come from, then?¡± Jori asked.


    It replied quickly, with a pained warble at the end as Jori held the hellfire closer to its face again. Then, suddenly, it slapped the imp¡¯s hand away and lunged at her, teeth gnashing.


    Jori flinched back and narrowly avoided the attack. The other demon followed up with a swipe that caught her across the face. As she reeled, she flung her hellfire forward defensively, but missed¡ªmostly. A few of the oozing droplets spattered onto the other demon¡¯s arms with a sizzling sound, and it hissed in pain.


    Then one of Bernt¡¯s fire darts caught it in the chest, immediately followed by another to the face. It fell back, dead before it hit the ground. Unlike Jori, this creature was apparently not resistant to fire.


    ¡°Jori, are you alright?¡± Bernt asked as he crouched down to get a look at her. She stood up, rattled but otherwise fine, though she was filthy, having splashed into the stream of effluent running down the main. She rubbed at her head, looking down at the stained rag she wore.


    ¡°I need new clothes,¡± she grumbled.


    Bernt let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding. She was fine.


    She was right, though, he did need to find her something better to wear.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°Was it from the same warlock that summoned you?¡±


    Jori frowned up at him. ¡°Maybe. It was a blood fiend¡ªvery mean, nasty demons. Cannibals!¡±


    ¡°They eat people?¡± That didn¡¯t seem so unusual. He would have assumed hellhounds and most of the other beast-type demons would eat just about anything.


    ¡°Not humans!¡± The little imp rolled her eyes in exasperation. ¡°They eat demons!¡±


    Ah.


    Thinking for a moment, Bernt tried to put the situation together.


    ¡°Someone summoned a demon to hunt you,¡± he said. ¡°Someone who considers you a threat, and can summon a demon, but also someone who doesn¡¯t want to be seen going after you.¡± That ruled out the Solicitors, as he understood them. People seeing them kill demons was probably good for their image.


    ¡°Do you think it was the same warlock who summoned you?¡± he asked. He wasn¡¯t sure if that would be good or bad. If the summoner was still here, Bernt could maybe learn his identity and point the Solicitors to him. On the other hand, he did not want to get into a fight with a warlock. Not that he was planning to do that¡ªbut if he went looking¡­ well, if the warlock knew enough to go after Jori now, they could probably recognize Bernt. That put him at a real disadvantage.


    Sighing to himself, Bernt waved to Jori. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go home.¡±


    He would need to tell someone about this¡ªpreferably Ed. The idea of figuring out who summoned Jori was well and good, but this changed things. At the very least, he would need help. Otherwise, he would have to leave this to the Solicitors to handle themselves.


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    ***


    ¡°Jori, I¡¯ve been meaning to ask. Do you mind if I get a look at some of your blood?¡± Bernt asked.


    They were sitting at home, and Jori looked up at him with a skeptical expression as she snacked on a bit of rat jerky. Then she shook her head in the negative.


    ¡°It burns hot!¡± she said by way of explanation.


    Bernt sighed. ¡°Yes, I know. But that¡¯s the point! It acts almost like your hellfire. I think it might actually be hellfire. And it seems pretty similar to what the finished augmentation that I¡¯m trying to achieve can do¡­¡±


    Jori narrowed her eyes in thought.


    ¡°In the other place, the fire burned spirits¡­¡± she warned.


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°I just want to examine it, not set myself on fire. Maybe I could use it for an investiture, or at least learn something else.¡±


    She grunted noncommittally, but then, after a few seconds, she nodded.


    ¡°I want new clothes!¡± she finally said, holding out her arm. ¡°And you can have only a tiny little bit!¡±


    ¡°Hold on a minute. I need to make some preparations first.¡±


    He dug around in the chest at the foot of his bed, pulled out a piece of slate and some chalk, and set them down on his little table. He hadn¡¯t used these since he was at the academy, but he hadn¡¯t needed to do anything like this since then, either.


    With quick, practiced movements Bernt drew a small circle of arcane symbols, infusing them with mana as he did so, which made them glow bluish-white. When he was done, a small circle lit up just inside the script.


    The runic array would break the material placed inside down into a more abstract form, allowing him to examine its properties more clearly. This was, incidentally, also the first step in the investment process he would eventually use to empower himself. A mage couldn¡¯t simply cram a magical material into their spirit and expect anything to happen. Its function had to be built into the spellcaster¡¯s spirit. That involved breaking the material down into a pattern of mana flows and then allowing that to guide his spirit¡¯s development.


    For now, he just wanted to look at that pattern¡ªthe spellform of the material. These were usually far more complex than most of the spells mages could cast. Only one branch of magic, conjuration, involved the creation of permanently persisting materials¡ªand even a conjurer couldn¡¯t make anything particularly complex.


    Bernt wasn¡¯t a talented researcher, but he was a pyromancer. Hellfire was, after all, a type of fire. Certainly he could learn something.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Bernt said to Jori. ¡°Could you spill a drop into the circle there for me?¡±


    Wordlessly, Jori reached up with one hand and ran her razor-sharp thumb-claw along the side of her other arm. A small but blinding flame shot out of the cut, and one brightly burning drop fell down and slowed as it approached the circle. Over the course of a second, the light dimmed and the blood expanded, unraveling into a three-dimensional sculpture of interconnected mana flows.


    Bernt leaned forward, fascinated. After a moment, he turned back toward the chest to dig out some paper and a pencil. Eagerly, he sketched out the spellform as best he could, trying to make sense of it as he did so.


    The more he drew, the more confused he became. The base of the spellform¡ªthe outside of it¡ªdidn¡¯t look like what he would expect from a magical flame. It looked more organic, like life magic, maybe, though in this case it was probably something to do with souls. Still, it wasn¡¯t what he¡¯d been expecting.


    Only when he finished sketching the entire outer shell of the spell did he notice a familiar structural pattern. The shape wasn¡¯t quite right, but he recognized it all the same. Excited now, Bernt paced across the room to a shelf where he kept his books. There, he pulled out the wizard¡¯s journal he¡¯d found in the dungeon and flipped to the overly complicated transmutation spellform.


    There it was again. Not exactly the same, but clearly related in terms of how it was put together. On a hunch, he returned to the table and began filling in the rest of the spellform.


    He didn¡¯t even need to finish¡ªthe difference was clear. The inner portion of the spell didn¡¯t follow the same pattern as the outside. It was almost like a completely separate spell, and not one he recognized. Laying his drawing down next to the spellform in the book, he tried to decide what it meant.


    The outer portion of the hellfire¡¯s spellform was effectively a soul-manipulation spell drawn in the slightly more rounded shape of a familiar rune. The transmutation spell had nothing to do with souls, but its overall structure was similar. The difference might be what allowed the hellfire spell to act as Jori¡¯s blood, but Bernt had no way to tell. It wasn¡¯t that important. The critical point was that he recognized it, despite how contorted it was. It was the basis of almost every fire spell: ignition.


    Flipping a few pages further, he found another transmutation-related spellform, again following the same pattern. And again, and again.


    So, that meant transmutation was, in some sense, a branch of pyromancy, or somehow related. And, if he didn¡¯t miss his guess, it meant hellfire was a type of transmutation spell that both burned and transmuted the stuff of souls¡­ but into what?


    Bernt¡¯s breathing grew a little unsteady. He felt he couldn¡¯t quite get enough air.


    ¡°Jori, I think I just discovered something important¡­¡±


    But¡­ did he actually discover it? Bernt tried to rein in his excitement. The wizard who wrote the journal must have understood this principle in order to create that spellform. From what Bernt understood, the man had imagined a universal transmutation spell in his notes. One that could transform any material into anything else¡ªthough there was no spellform for that here. And when Ed had seen the journal, he sounded like he knew it could work, in theory. If someone could actually cast it.


    Which, Bernt reminded himself sternly, nobody could.


    ¡°You will try to put it in your spirit?¡± Jori asked, watching the magical representation of her blood slowly rotate in the circle. Then she shook her head, grimacing. ¡°That is a bad idea.¡±


    Bernt agreed. If hellfire was some kind of transmutation spell that burned souls, it wouldn¡¯t be very useful to him. He only had access to one soul¡ªand he didn¡¯t want to use his own.


    But¡­ maybe in the future he could use what he learned here. Hellfire didn¡¯t just burn, it also transformed the soul.


    Who knows what he might do with that?

 36. Espionage

    When Bernt left for work that morning, Jori didn¡¯t follow. Instead, she took a left turn after entering the sewer system and darted toward the Crafters¡¯ District.


    She knew he wouldn¡¯t actually start working for at least an hour or so¡ªhe still had to go to the office and collect his assignments for the day. If she didn¡¯t miss her guess, he would also spend some time talking to the elder Great Mage, Ed, about what he¡¯d learned the day before and about the blood fiend. Bernt was very excited that hellfire could burn spirits, or transform them, or something. To Jori, it didn¡¯t seem that strange, or that important.


    All kinds of fire burned things to make ashes and smoke. How was this any different?


    But it didn¡¯t matter, not really. For her, all this just meant she had time to check in on the bad alchemist woman. Most humans, as far as Jori had seen, didn¡¯t take their enemies seriously enough. It was dangerous to simply ignore someone who had already taken a swipe at you. While Jori had agreed not to start any trouble in the city, she wasn¡¯t about to overlook a threat like that.


    Within a few minutes, she was standing near the storm drain by the alchemist¡¯s shop again, peering out at the door across the street.


    She could still smell the sulfurous odor left behind by the demon¡¯s body when it disintegrated. It would reform in the third hell pretty soon.


    For a few minutes, nothing happened. Pedestrians passed by, and the sun rose over the roofs of the city, bathing the street in the harsh light of day. Jori sat still, eyes locked on the street, but mentally, she checked in on Bernt. The range of the familiar bond was limited, but it wasn¡¯t absolute. If she could take the time to concentrate, she could receive scattered images and sound from her human, even at a significant distance. If she was distracted, it would only work that well when she was much closer.


    Bernt was telling the Great Mage about the demon that had attacked them the night before. The elder mage seemed unsurprised by the presence of other demons, but he did seem to take it seriously. As she watched, he wrote something on a piece of paper and gave it to Bernt, mentioning reporting it to the Solicitors. She couldn¡¯t hear the words, really. It was more like she got an impression of what Bernt understood.


    A guard¡¯s uniform out in the street pulled Jori back to herself. A fat man was entering the shop. He didn¡¯t quite look like the normal guards, though¡ªthe uniform was spotless and he wasn¡¯t wearing any armor or weapons with it.


    Thinking quickly, Jori darted off, moving to the exact spot where she¡¯d found the poison metal the bad woman had put in her drain. Putting her ear up to the wall, she listened.


    ¡°¡­expect me to produce two hundred mind fortress potions per day for your stupid guards! Why would you even need so many? Mind fortress potions aren¡¯t used by the military¡ªwe don¡¯t stockpile them!¡± came the alchemist¡¯s voice.


    ¡°I have a responsibility to my guards!¡± a male voice responded. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s out of my hands. Archmage Thurdred is managing the subterranean defense of the city, and these are for the guards that have been loaned out to him for that purpose. It¡¯s his right to determine what equipment and consumables are required for the operation, and it¡¯s my responsibility to outfit my guards. Fill the order!¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t do this! We¡¯d have to buy up the entire city¡¯s supply of castrum root, and even that would barely last us a week,¡± she spat.


    The man¡¯s voice rose, and Jori heard a rustle, like someone shaking a piece of paper in the air.


    ¡°This is an official government order! Standard emergency fees as dictated in the Alchemists¡¯ Guild charter have already been paid into your account and you are required to meet our emergency needs. If you don¡¯t honor our contract, your guild will lose its exclusivity rights in Halfbridge and the count will be forced to seek alternate sources!¡±


    There was a thump, like a hand slapping down on a table, followed by steps as the man left the shop.


    ¡°Aiyvan,¡± the woman called, voice hoarse. ¡°Get to every supplier in the city and buy every single scrap of castrum root you can get your hands on. Then get to the Mages¡¯ Guild and pay the scryers there to put you in contact with the branches in Loamfurth and Yetin¡¯s Harbor. Tell them to send us everything they¡¯ve got. Tell them we¡¯ll pay double if they can get a shipment back to me before the end of the week. That asshole is trying to sink our entire guild presence in Halfbridge! I¡¯m not going to give him the satisfaction.¡±


    Jori huffed out a little laugh to herself. She didn¡¯t understand exactly what all this meant, but it wasn¡¯t hard to tell that the elder Great Mage Ed had found a way to strike back at the bad alchemist woman.


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    She hoped he¡¯d be doing more than this, though. When you have an enemy on the defensive, you go for the throat!


    ***


    ¡°Like I told you before. If you still think getting creative is a good idea when you¡¯re working on your second augmentation, I won¡¯t argue with you. But at least with this first augmentation, and most especially with your very first investiture, you should follow a proven architecture. It¡¯s far too dangerous to experiment when you don¡¯t even know the first thing about what an investment actually feels like and have no practical experience performing one.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know,¡± Bernt answered, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. ¡°I just wanted to run it by you to see if you¡¯d ever heard of anything like that. Has anyone tried to use the principles behind hellfire to modify their own soul before?¡±


    ¡°I doubt it. To me, it mostly just looks like a more elaborate way to kill yourself. Just pick an architecture and stick to it! And if you ever think about actually messing with that stuff in the future, at least talk to someone from the Mages¡¯ Academy first, preferably a wizard.¡±


    Bernt nodded, holding out his hand in a calming gesture. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t. Besides, I already picked one. I want to go with the liquid fire¡ªfrom Illuria.¡±


    Ed sat back in his chair, looking mollified somewhat and taking a drag from his pipe. ¡°Good! That¡¯s good. Illurian mage-mariners are a holy terror on the seas.¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ There¡¯s a bit of a problem, though,¡± Bernt went on. ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to get a droplet of burning rain for the first investiture. The Alchemists¡¯ Guild apparently bought up all of it to make war materiel for the incoming army.¡±


    Ed snorted. ¡°Sure, I bet the army is going to just casually set the entire tunnel system on fire. That¡¯ll work out wonderfully, no tactical concerns there.¡±


    Nodding to himself, he leaned forward and handed Bernt a list.


    ¡°Here are your stops for the day. Don¡¯t worry, there aren¡¯t any alchemists on it, but don¡¯t touch any unknown substances regardless, alright? I would have thought we covered that in your initial training¡­ And don¡¯t worry about that burning droplet right now. It¡¯s not that rare of a material. I¡¯ll look into it and let you know how you can get some. Just focus on studying your damned safety procedures.¡±


    Bernt felt himself start to bristle at that, but after a moment, he nodded. Ed hadn¡¯t offered to give him anything, and it was stupid to turn down help at this point.


    ¡°Thanks. One more question, though,¡± he said, pointing at the large sacks piled up on the ground behind Ed. ¡°What¡¯s with all these sacks? Are those roots in there? Should I get rid of them?¡±


    For possibly the first time, Bernt saw Ed¡¯s face melt into a cheerful smile. It was¡­ unsettling.


    ¡°No, no. Those are for leverage. You don¡¯t need to worry about that, just move along and get to work.¡±


    Bernt made his way out of the building feeling glad to have told someone about what he¡¯d learned. The old man¡¯s input was, if he was being honest, invaluable. It helped clarify his path forward, though he still had no idea how to get what he needed to perform his first investment.


    But¡­ he trusted Ed. It would be fine. Bernt had other problems to worry about¡ªthe fact that someone was summoning demons in Halfbridge, for one. Initially, he¡¯d wanted to avoid the Solicitors as long as possible, but he couldn¡¯t wait anymore. Sure, the blood fiend hadn¡¯t seemed very dangerous, but if demons started attacking people in the streets, he knew exactly where Iriala, Ed, and the Solicitors would come looking. He needed to be the one to report this.


    He could feel the scrap of paper Ed had given him in his pocket, an address scrawled on it in Ed¡¯s sloppy handwriting. He would have to go see them tonight, or risk further attacks by that amateur summoner and their weakling demons, and he had no idea what was going to happen when he did.


    Focusing on his bond as he stepped out into the street, he was surprised to note Jori wasn¡¯t here yet, but she was coming his way quickly.


    He hoped making some effort to help expose the rogue warlock would buy him and Jori at least some goodwill. He could only hope they were more reasonable than Ed had made them sound.


    Sighing, Bernt looked down at the list. He was going down to the lower residential district to help a handful of regular city maintenance workers replace rusted grates and to hold up masonry while they pulled out and replaced a few stone blocks that had cracked over the winter.


    A chance to practice his geomancy, he supposed.


    ***


    Iriala looked up at the sound of knocking on her doorframe to find the secretary from the front desk of the Scryers¡¯ Office standing in the open door.


    ¡°Yes?¡± she asked. Glancing into her glasses, she could already see what the message was, but it was more polite to actually take the message than to send the poor man away.


    ¡°Ahem. Good morning, archmage,¡± the man said stiffly, holding up two pieces of paper. ¡°You asked to be informed of any messages that the Alchemists¡¯ Guild tried to send through us. Master Alchemist Theresa¡¯s apprentice was just here. We have two, one each to Loamfurth and Yetin¡¯s Harbor.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful.¡± Iriala snatched up the two proffered pages to scan their contents. With a little grin, she leaned back and thought for a moment.


    ¡°Go ahead and delay sending them for a while¡ªmaybe till this evening or however long you think you can get away with,¡± she said, pulling out a scrap of paper and scribbling a few lines on it. ¡°In the meantime, get this note delivered to Archmage Thurdred of the Underkeepers. I expect that he¡¯ll be at the command post at the main breach. Otherwise, just drop it off with either him, Fiora, or Dayle at the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters.¡±


    As the secretary left, she allowed herself a bigger smile and pulled out a sheaf of much higher-quality paper along with her best pen.


    She needed to draft a letter to the Halfbridge Alchemists¡¯ Guild.

 37. Meeting with the Solicitors

    Bernt cut his lunch break short that day to make a stop at a tailor¡¯s shop. If he was going to see the Solicitors, he needed to do everything he could to make the best possible impression. He guessed this was going to cost quite a bit of silver, but it would be worth it.


    Besides, he had a debt to pay.


    ¡°You want ¡®toddler-sized gray robes,¡¯¡± the elderly tailor repeated back to him, peering at him over the rim of his glasses and tapping on the counter. A folded paper sign propped up on the counter read ¡°No Dwarves!!¡± in even, handwritten block letters.


    ¡°And made to match yours? And you want it tonight? Do you think we just have that sort of thing lying around in the back?¡±


    Bernt shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. He knew it was a ridiculous request, but he¡¯d hoped they could throw something together. It wasn¡¯t exactly a complicated garment.


    ¡°Ahem,¡± came a young woman¡¯s voice from behind the old man. Bernt could barely see her as she peered over at them from around a corner. ¡°Ehm. Pa? Wouldn¡¯t one of those ritual robes for the Temple of Aegin work? They were sized for seven-year-old dwarves¡­¡±


    The tailor scowled. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to me about those damned dwarves! But yes, I suppose. It¡¯s not like they¡¯re going to take them now. Inferior work my ass! They can make their own godsdamned robes!¡±


    Bernt wasn¡¯t interested in dwarven religion, but between the sign and the man¡¯s attitude, he could guess what had happened there. Dwarves were notoriously picky customers, and taking a crafting contract from one without taking a generous up-front payment was generally considered a poor business decision. If this Aegin had anything to do with crafting, as most dwarven gods did, then taking a contract from his temple was, in gentle terms, foolish.


    The old man must have really needed the business. But¡­ it sounded like the tailor¡¯s misfortune might work out well for Bernt. Especially if he still needed money.


    ¡°Could you adjust it for a slimmer frame? And I need two slits in the back. I have measurements,¡± Bernt said, holding out a scrap of paper.


    ***


    As the sun was setting, Bernt examined a prominently displayed number next to a very expensive-looking door. It was in a dingy alley that branched off of the main street, just in front of the Upper District. He¡¯d walked by the building twice before he realized there was no entrance at the front.


    Reaching up, he knocked twice and waited. As he did, Jori came up behind him, standing straight-backed at his side. He thought she looked very professional in her new Underkeeper¡¯s robes.


    Maybe twenty seconds later, the door opened soundlessly to reveal a sharply dressed young human woman who regarded him with a stern expression, eyebrows raised.


    ¡°Can I help you?¡± she asked, just as her eyes flicked down, taking in Jori. ¡°Ah. You¡¯re the new warlock? Who referred you?¡±


    Bernt blinked.


    ¡°Uh¡­ hi. My name is Bernt, and this is Jori,¡± Bernt began, flustered. She was very pretty, and not at all what he¡¯d been expecting. ¡°Archmage Ed¡­ uh, Thurdred sent me over. I¡¯m here to report a rogue demon and probably a rogue warlock, in the city. A demon attacked us last night.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± she said again, with a faint note of contempt this time, as she eyed his robes. She turned on her heel. ¡°Follow me, both of you.¡±


    Bernt and Jori hurried after her, throwing glances left and right at the doors as they moved down the corridor. He noted a ritual room, a library, several nameless rooms, and offices labeled with the names of people he assumed were Solicitors. He spotted five of them¡ªBernt had no idea there were so many warlocks in the city.


    The Solicitor led them up a flight of stairs and through a set of double doors, barely stopping to knock on the doorframe as she entered a large, brightly lit office dominated by a single massive desk.


    ¡°Solicitor Radast, Mage Bernard of the Underkeepers to see you about a rogue amateur, accompanied by the class 2 imp known as ¡®Jori.¡¯¡±


    Bernt hadn¡¯t heard his given name out loud in years and it sounded strange. What really unsettled him about it, though, was that they knew who he was. Ed had told him these people would look into him almost immediately, but it was different to hear them talk about him like this.


    Behind the desk sat a man in early middle age, wearing a black suit that contrasted dramatically with his light-blonde hair and mustache. He looked up at the woman for a moment, then continued writing as he responded.


    ¡°Wonderful! Thank you, Josie. Please let me know when you¡¯ve got the language sorted out on that contract for the Teamsters¡¯ Union.¡±


    Nodding, the Solicitor turned and left, not even sparing Bernt and Jori a glance before she left him alone with who he assumed was the head Solicitor in the city¡ªthe man who would be deciding Jori¡¯s fate, and probably his.


    The warlock had an unsettling air about him, and it took Bernt a moment to figure out what exactly made him so uncomfortable. When he did, he nearly backed up out of the room in horror.


    The warlock¡¯s shadow was moving, squirming from left to right independently of where the light was shining. Next to him, Jori shivered. He could feel her revulsion through the bond, and it made him wonder what kind of demon that thing was.


    ¡°Easy, relax!¡± the man called out as he stood up, smiling a little too widely. ¡°It won¡¯t bite¡ªit¡¯s contractually obligated to ask me first.¡± He circled to the front of his desk and leaned back against it casually. ¡°So, what¡¯s this about a rogue warlock? I thought you were our only unknown summoner in the city right now¡­¡±


    Bernt held his tongue, considering his answer. The man held himself too casually and his smile was¡­ insincere. All the while, his eyes bored into him with an unblinking intensity that made Bernt feel he might be in danger. Like if he said the wrong thing right now, he would regret it.


    ¡°I¡¯m not actually a warlock, technically,¡± Bernt said. ¡°I didn¡¯t form a pact with Jori¡ªI don¡¯t know how, for one, and I¡¯m not looking to do so either, if you don¡¯t mind me saying. We came to a¡­ less formal arrangement, and people drew their own conclusions when we broke a bunch of adventurers out of their cells in the dungeon. As far as the rogue warlock goes, it¡¯s just an educated guess. We were attacked by something Jori called a blood fiend in the sewers last night, underneath the Crafters¡¯ District.¡±


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    That wasn¡¯t a lie, exactly.


    The man stared at him for a moment, and Bernt could have sworn he heard the restless shadow whisper something. Radast nodded to himself, wearing a more professional but equally fake smile now.


    ¡°I see. And you never summoned any demons before your companion there?¡±


    Bernt swallowed. ¡°No. I didn¡¯t summon Jori. I found her in the sewers two years ago¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡­ found a rogue demon, and then neither deported it nor formed a pact with it? What were you thinking?¡±


    ¡°She was practically a baby!¡± Bernt protested. Radast was making it sound like he¡¯d taken in a rabid dog. Sure, Jori had been hunting rats and surviving on her own in the sewers, but she wasn¡¯t dangerous. Not then, anyway. He almost winced when he realized he¡¯d said more than he meant to, but stopped himself. He didn¡¯t want to look like he was hiding something.


    ¡°And you¡¯re certain that she didn¡¯t have any pacts formed before you met? Any that you don¡¯t know about?¡± the warlock asked. ¡°Are you even certain she¡¯s not working for your rogue warlock? Did you check?¡±


    ¡°No?¡± Bernt said, unsure what he meant. How could you possibly know whether a demon had an existing pact? Besides, the damned blood fiend had been after Jori!


    ¡°We will look into the matter of the mysterious rogue demon.¡± Radast rolled his eyes. ¡°In the meantime, I¡¯d like to see what your companion here has to say about this situation.¡±


    He turned, addressing Jori. ¡°If you¡¯ll come over here for a moment. You¡¯ll have to forgive me if I don¡¯t take your ¡®friend¡¯ at his word.¡±


    Throwing a glance back at Bernt over her shoulder, Jori followed the Solicitor behind his desk. There, Radast picked up a small, straight knife¡ªmore of a sharpened letter opener than a weapon¡ªand nicked the back of his arm.


    ¡°Your arm, please.¡±


    Jori hesitated, but then Radast¡¯s shadow hissed something at her, and she reached out her hand toward him. Bernt felt naked terror radiating off of her.


    Gently, the Solicitor pushed the tip of the knife into the back of her hand, causing just a spark of hellfire to light up where he pricked her.


    The shadow whispered something unintelligible, but Radast nodded in understanding.


    ¡°Dzhorianath¡ªwhat a beautiful name,¡± he said, smiling his too-wide smile.


    Jori shrank back fearfully and Bernt tensed. He wasn¡¯t sure what the shadow had done, but there was no way this man should have known her full name. As far as Bernt knew, he was the only one who¡¯d ever heard it¡ªand she¡¯d communicated it to him through their familiar bond. He¡¯d never said it out loud.


    ¡°This is unusual,¡± Radast went on. ¡°No pact, and no trail of bodies. You¡¯re an uncontracted demon who¡¯s actually managed to assimilate to some degree, and a remarkably young and weak one at that. I doubt you would have managed to stay on the material plane so long without the support of Bernard over there. However, I¡¯m afraid we can¡¯t allow unbound demons to wander around like this.¡±


    ¡°I want to stay!¡± Jori said. ¡°I made an agreement with the Great Mages, the large one and the woman with the sight of Great K¡¯thanizar. I will not make trouble!¡±


    ¡°The sight of¡­ oh, you mean Archmage Iriala, the diviner.¡± Radast clearly understood something that escaped Bernt. He really needed to learn more about demons and the hells if he was going to have to interact with these people. If he could just get that demonology book back from Ed¡­ but it wasn¡¯t as though he could read Duergar, in any case. He doubted he could get access to the library here without signing on with their organization and becoming a warlock, but¡­ well, he should probably ask, at least.


    ¡°She¡¯s not a threat!¡± Bernt said. ¡°She hasn¡¯t hurt anyone outside the dungeon, and Archmage Thurdred said she¡¯s not strong enough to devour a soul, so she can¡¯t just grow out of control.¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡± The man paused, looking thoughtful. ¡°You say two archmages are taking responsibility for your presence here? That¡¯s even more unusual. Interesting, even.¡±


    Bernt tried not to let his sudden hope show through his voice, but he couldn¡¯t resist.


    ¡°Does that mean you¡¯ll let her stay?¡±


    Radast shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯d want her to. Demons are extremely unreliable allies, and an extreme risk to keep around you without a bond to ensure their cooperation. We normally recommend making pacts that don¡¯t involve keeping the demon on the material plane at all. Without a pact¡­ well, a valid guarantor is required to be orders of magnitude more powerful than their sponsored demon. You don¡¯t qualify. The archmages, on the other hand, would. Valid guarantors for minor demons include archmages, high priests, adventurers over rank 10, and certified representatives of the crown.¡±


    Bernt swallowed. ¡°So, Archmage Iriala is responsible for her? Or Ed?¡±


    Radast shook his head. ¡°Not without a formal contract to that effect. The best and simplest way to guarantee a demon¡¯s good behavior is always to form a pact. Specifically, you¡¯ll want to use one that¡¯s been vetted by us. A demonic pact is binding regardless of your personal power¡ªboth parties are bound by their own blood. It always works, making it even more secure than a guarantee of good conduct provided by someone like an archmage. Moreover, if Jori undergoes a metamorphosis of any kind or grows in power to a significant degree, we will be required to deport her immediately. At that point, no one in the city could be considered a valid guarantor.¡±


    Trying to keep his emotions off his face, Bernt shrugged.


    ¡°That¡¯s a very big decision. Can I at least think about it? You¡¯re not going to¡­ deport her right now, right?¡±


    Radast frowned at him coldly. ¡°I know about the professional prejudices of mages, young man. You shouldn¡¯t let something like that hold you back from true power. An imp can¡¯t exactly bring you to the pinnacle of power, but you can do worse for a first pact. The petty opinions of ignorant fools shouldn¡¯t concern the likes of us¡ªand the same goes for the unwashed masses out there in the streets. Who are they in the face of achieving your dreams?¡±


    Bernt grunted noncommittally. He wasn¡¯t sure what dreams Radast had, but Bernt¡¯s did not involve burning bridges with either mages or the general public. Not any more than he already had, anyway. If he had to make a pact with Jori¡­ well, he very much hoped it would never come to that.


    ¡°Hmph.¡± The warlock shook his head in disgust. ¡°It appears that the reputation of the Underkeepers may be well-earned after all.¡±


    Radast turned back to Jori, holding out a small packet of papers to her. ¡°Our organization is responsible for controlling all extraplanar presences in the realm. I¡¯ll give you a contract to confer responsibility for your actions to a third party, which you¡¯ll need to get signed with the mana signature of a valid guarantor. I¡¯ll give you one week to return with either that signed contract or someone willing to form a demonic pact with you. Perhaps your foolish friend there will come to his senses. There¡¯s also a full list of the terms we require in any demonic pact in accordance with the laws of the realm and the standards of the Solicitors. If you don¡¯t return, we will enforce the deportation protocols to send you back to your home plane until such a time as you can be summoned again and properly pacted.¡±


    Jori looked from the warlock to the squirming shadow, and then over to Bernt. He nodded to her encouragingly. This was much better than what he¡¯d expected. He didn¡¯t know how Ed would feel about taking actual, legal responsibility for Jori, but it was a real chance.


    ¡°Thank you, Great One,¡± Jori said, accepting the packet of papers.


    Bernt breathed a quiet sigh of relief.


    Finally, a way out of this mess.


    ¡°We will look into the issue of the rogue warlock,¡± Radast said in a tone of clear dismissal. ¡°Don¡¯t leave the city, in case we have¡­ questions for you.¡±

 38. An Informal Agreement

    Jori flipped through the papers as they left the warlocks¡¯ lair. They were covered in human writing. She could understand it, if she took the time to concentrate on it, but why bother? This kind of writing couldn¡¯t make a properly binding contract. You might as well just make a deal verbally.


    She scoffed to herself. Ridiculous. Demons made verbal agreements all the time, just as humans did, but those were only reliable as long as the power dynamic involved was great enough to ensure that betrayal wasn¡¯t an option for the weaker party. Human contracts were just silly.


    Finally, near the back of the stack, she found what she was looking for. It was a circle of symbols¡ªformed out of five smaller circles. A pentagram sat in the middle, each of its five points resting at the center of one of the circles. Beneath were a bunch more human scribbles, but those didn¡¯t matter.


    Finally, a real contract. These were the terms the Solicitors required to consider any pact valid for all citizens of the realm. She understood them instinctively just by looking at it and winced in disgust.


    They were:


    <ol>


    <li> Immediately self-deport upon the termination of the pact</li>


    <li> Cause no harm of any kind to any Beseri citizen, even in self-defense and without exception</li>


    <li> Obey the laws of the Kingdom of Besermark and the commands of any qualified officer of the Solicitors¡¯ Organization without delay</li>


    <li> Share no unauthorized information and enter into no further pacts or agreements of any kind until after the pact is terminated</li>


    <li> Refrain from the consumption of any mortal souls unless they are deliberately granted by one¡¯s pacted warlock</li>


    </ol>


    She assumed that the actual pact with the warlock about sharing power would have to be inscribed elsewhere, probably in place of the lines that made up the pentagram. She was fairly certain the shape was completely unnecessary¡ªbut she¡¯d never had a pact, so what did she know?


    ¡°Jori?¡± Bernt asked, looking down at her, bewildered. ¡°Are you reading that? How?¡±


    She shook her head at him and rolled her eyes. ¡°It is a contract! I know its intent.¡±


    Needless to say, these terms were just terrible. She would, essentially, be a helpless tool¡ªnot for just one warlock master, but for the Solicitors as an organization. It was remarkably similar to how agreements worked in the third hell, the place she had spawned.


    There, the more powerful demons forced those weaker than themselves into service, usually in order to serve even more powerful demons who had, in turn, pressed them into service. The lower down the chain of oppression you were, the more difficult it was to grow in power. Most demons never progressed past their spawnling forms, and those who did usually had to rely on deception or luck to get the water of life they needed to grow. Many never got a taste of it at all¡ªshe hadn¡¯t.


    Jori hadn¡¯t realized the ¡°water¡± was what made up the souls of mortals until she¡¯d actually tasted it and seen where it came from. That, and it had been a lot harder to think back then¡­


    She was not going to be put into that kind of position again. Never!


    ***


    Bernt stopped walking to watch Jori read, feeling a fluttering sense of shame wind its way through his stomach. He¡¯d been forgetting something important, and it had taken a calculated insult from a warlock to offer him the needed shift in perspective.


    ¡°So¡­ uh,¡± he began awkwardly. ¡°I¡¯ve been kind of trying not to think about it too much. And¡­ well, you just started talking a few days ago, I hadn¡¯t really considered what it meant. I mean, in a bigger sense. But then he gave you the paperwork just now. I mean, he gave the paperwork to you. So, I wanted to ask¡­¡±


    Jori cocked her head at him. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ what do you want?¡±


    Jori cocked her head and looked at him consideringly. Through the bond he felt a boiling frustration. Finally, she held the stack of papers up to him.


    ¡°Look at it!¡± she said, hissing slightly as she said it. ¡°Take it! They want to make me into their slave.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Bernt bent down to accept the papers and looked over the top page. He didn¡¯t recognize the runed pattern at the top, but he could read the text underneath. It was all there, cut and dried. The third point would make her a tool of the Solicitors, essentially loaning her out to the pacted warlock.


    He exhaled slowly. It made sense, he supposed. The Solicitors weren¡¯t just there to control demons, after all. They policed warlocks as well. What better way to do that than to directly control their pacted demons?


    ¡°I don¡¯t want these choices!¡± Jori hissed, boiling fury now lighting her eyes with red fire. ¡°I don¡¯t want a master. I want to be free!¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°But¡­ you don¡¯t have to take a pact,¡± Bernt said carefully. ¡°What about the guarantor option? We can just talk to Ed and Iriala. I¡¯m sure we can work something out.¡±


    Jori grimaced. ¡°Maybe for now,¡± she allowed. ¡°But it¡¯s still a bad choice¡ªI didn¡¯t do anything wrong! And they will ¡®deport¡¯ me when I grow, no matter what I do.¡±


    Bernt sighed. ¡°Then what choice is there? You would need a pact sooner or later, then.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t,¡± Jori said firmly. ¡°They can¡¯t kill me. I¡¯m not a mortal. And I have friends. You, and maybe Therion, the nice flute woman and the sneaky man.¡±


    Bernt swallowed as he understood the crux of her plan.


    ¡°You want me to summon you back,¡± he said, trying to keep the unease out of his voice, but failing. ¡°Like that rogue warlock did.¡±


    Jori nodded once.


    ¡°Will you?¡±


    It was risky. Extremely illegal, actually. He¡¯d be an illegal summoner. Still not a warlock, technically, if he didn¡¯t form a pact. But he would have to learn their craft¡ªand he¡¯d have to do it without getting caught, which would be a problem, considering that he barely had access to a single demonology text. It was still in Ed¡¯s desk¡ªand he couldn¡¯t even read it. Botching a summoning could easily get him killed.


    But this was Jori. And that Radast guy had been an ass. It wasn¡¯t that Bernt couldn¡¯t understand why the Solicitors worked the way they did¡ªhe just didn¡¯t like them. Jori was right. They were polite, sure, but all the choices they offered essentially treated Jori as a monster.


    Of course, that was exactly how they saw her. And it wasn¡¯t as though demons weren¡¯t dangerous.


    ¡°The Solicitors and the crown would be after me if anyone found out,¡± Bernt mused. ¡°If you eventually became a greater demon, you could be as dangerous as a dragon. More, maybe. And you wouldn¡¯t be able to stay in the city¡ªnot after you¡¯ve been deported once. It would be obvious that I was involved.¡±


    Jori put her hands on her hips and glared up at him, but he knew she was feeling a little smug at being compared to a dragon. ¡°Then all the bad dragons will stay far away! We are friends. You have to trust me!¡±


    That was¡­ a lot to take on faith. Besermark had a history with greater demons¡ªone that had left warlocks outlawed entirely for nearly two centuries.


    But Bernt found that he did trust Jori. Somehow. Besides, where would she even get the souls? It would take centuries, much longer than he was going to live.


    Probably.


    He looked down at her for several seconds, trying to picture her as a kingdom-tier threat.


    He couldn¡¯t. But he could still picture her the way she¡¯d been when he found her, covered in filth and protectively clutching half of a rat she¡¯d caught, looking up at him with terrified eyes.


    She wasn¡¯t scared now.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m not saying I¡¯d never do it, but even then, it would take me years to even learn how,¡± he said warily. ¡°Don¡¯t grow too quickly¡ªwe need time. I¡¯d really rather you didn¡¯t put me in that position at all. Whatever the case, we need to get you a guarantor first. Neither of us can afford for you to get ¡®deported¡¯ any time soon¡­¡±


    Rolling the rest of the papers up, Jori handed them to Bernt and nodded, a warm, fierce approval radiating through the bond. ¡°There will be time, I think. There are not so many dead here as in the dungeon.¡±


    Then she was gone, scampering down an access shaft into the sewers.


    Bernt sighed. And he¡¯d thought he had problems before.


    As he walked home, he flipped through the other papers, reading through the guarantor contract. Ed had made it sound like there was no way the Solicitors would allow Jori to stay in Halfbridge unless he formed a pact with her, but that clearly wasn¡¯t true. Did he just not know?


    Or maybe that chief Solicitor was making an exception of some kind¡­ but why? Bernt figured the paperwork would be the best place to look. He wasn¡¯t sure what he was looking for exactly, but the Solicitors¡ªor at least Radast¡ªhad to be getting something out of this.


    The language of the contract was extremely dense, which didn¡¯t make it easy. But when he was already in sight of his tenement, he finally found something.


    ¡°Consignee agrees to, within two days of signing this agreement, make public their status as sponsor and guardian of the relevant entity, leaving no doubt as to the Solicitors¡¯ continued association with or responsibility for said entity.¡±


    So¡­ they wanted Ed to announce that he was sponsoring a demon. Specifically, they wanted to make sure everyone knew the Underkeepers¡ªor the Mages¡¯ Guild if Iriala could be persuaded¡ªwere doing it.


    It made sense, he supposed, from their perspective. If Jori went crazy and started murdering people and devouring their souls, it would show that allowing non-Solicitors to sponsor unbound demons was a bad idea. Maybe the count, or even the king himself, would make sure only the Solicitors could be trusted to control them.


    On the other hand, if everything went well, then making sure Jori¡¯s presence was public knowledge would show the public that demons could be safely controlled. It would make people more comfortable, and probably make life a little easier for all warlocks in Halfbridge.


    So much for Radast¡¯s claims that he didn¡¯t care what common people thought about him. Still, it looked more like a consolation prize. Based on the paperwork, Bernt guessed the warlock was hoping for the first scenario.


    Entering his building, Bernt tried to put it out of his mind. He had to find a way to convince Ed to sponsor Jori. Him or Iriala, but he doubted the latter was ever going to happen. Ed¡­ well, he might. Maybe. But, Bernt figured, he¡¯d be more amenable if he asked after doing what his boss had already asked of him.


    Bernt sighed as he entered his room and locked the door behind him. He went to his shelf and picked up a stack of loose papers he¡¯d stashed on top of his books with the enthusiasm he usually reserved for handling Jori¡¯s¡­ fuel contributions¡­


    He needed to study the Underkeepers¡¯ Health and Safety Procedures.

 39. Invasion

    The next day, Bernt found himself working one of the breaches alongside Kustov¡ªa fresh one that had opened underneath a guard station on the north side of the city the night before, breaking into the basement that served as its armory. Apparently the kobolds killed several guards and nearly made it into the city, but Iriala had arrived and, with the help of a handful of the survivors, driven them back. Civilian deaths had been prevented only because of the archmage¡¯s prescience.


    As far as Bernt knew, he wasn¡¯t meant to be in the fighting rotation, but Ed had gruffly sent him to the front that morning to meet Kustov after only the briefest of explanations.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have nearly the resources that I need to cover every godsdamned hole those little bastards open up, and I can¡¯t close the holes because I¡¯ve got orders! Damn kobolds could use a face full of fire. But stay back and out of trouble, alright? You¡¯re greener than I¡¯d like for this sort of thing.¡±


    He¡¯d looked worried, and that made Bernt a bit uneasy, too.


    They were short-staffed trying to cover an ever-growing number of breaches. That wasn¡¯t exactly a reassuring prospect.


    But there were some benefits, too. This assignment gave him an opportunity to watch another mage fight¡ªand Kustov had very unorthodox methods. He was a geomancer, but he wasn¡¯t originally from Besermark. Rather than being a classically trained mage, the dwarf was a stoneweaver from Silvercrag Hall who¡¯d been sent ¡°on loan¡± to the Beseri government. Evidently, the count hadn¡¯t appreciated the gesture, putting him in the Underkeepers as a calculated insult to the dwarven city-state.


    Kustov seemed to take the entire thing with good humor most days, but today he¡¯d shown up ready for war. Instead of his customary robes, he wore mail armor with a broad leather belt and a sensible steel helm. Most surprising of all, he was carrying a weapon¡ªa large stone hammer, bound in runed metal bands.


    Bernt had never seen it before, but it was clearly Kustov¡¯s focus.


    The dwarf was friendly enough, but not talkative. They barely exchanged more than a greeting before he settled down with a good view of the breach, sitting in comfortable silence and examining the hasty barricade the guards had presumably erected the night before.


    After a few minutes of silence, he stood up, eyed the opening critically, and then slammed his hammer down on the ground with a heavy thump. The runes wrapping the hammer¡¯s head lit up with golden light, dimming again a second later as, inside the tunnel, the ground broke. A portion of the stone floor tilted and sank down on the near side, bringing the far side up. This created a low, inward-sloping wall, perhaps knee-high. It would slow down any attackers, Bernt supposed, reinforcing the protection provided by the barricade.


    Doing his best to imitate the more experienced mage, Bernt sat on the other side of the dark hole. Jori was nearby, perched in the sewers next to the guard station¡¯s basement. She had no way to reach them, as far as Bernt knew, but he supposed she was just checking to be sure. After a few minutes of hunting for a way in, she scampered off, frustration leaking through the familiar bond.


    The ten guards meant to support them stood directly in front of the opening behind the barricade, looking more than a little uncomfortable. Bernt supposed that was fair, considering the bloodstains that hadn¡¯t quite been cleaned off the floors where they were standing.


    When the first shouts came, followed by signs of movement in the dark of the ragged tunnel, Bernt reacted quickly. He slung a fireball directly into the opening, illuminating the faces of several ranks of kobolds for a moment, just before it hit.


    It clipped one of the kobolds in the side before striking another in the second rank. The first reeled back with a strangled shout, while the second went down, half its body burnt to a crisp. Though many more flinched away from the heat, the front line kept coming and leapt at Kustov¡¯s makeshift barrier. Hot air rolled back into the room as if he¡¯d just opened an oven. From his left, Bernt heard a shout from the guards, and then Kustov was there, jumping right into the tunnel like a madman.


    His hammer came down on the ground again, which tore open in front of him with an ear-shattering crack. Kobolds were thrown off their feet, and fist-sized rocks fell from the tunnel ceiling above them. So did a boulder that nearly blocked the opening a few strides in, crushing at least one of the attackers underneath.


    Then Kustov stopped, peering into the dusty mouth of the tunnel. A rune glowed brightly on his helmet, directly over his forehead.


    ¡°Sorcerer!¡± Kustov bellowed, stepping back and to his left, out of sight of anyone in the tunnel and behind the barricade. He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. ¡°Pretty powerful bastard, too.¡±


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    At the same time, Bernt cast a torch spell and sent it down into the tunnel for a better idea of what was going on inside. The surviving kobolds were picking themselves up and already moving toward them again. Why were they doing that? They had to know they couldn¡¯t survive just blindly rushing in like this, even with a sorcerer to back them up.


    ¡°Potions!¡± called one of the guards, and each of them pulled out a tiny purple vial, popped the cork and downed the contents. Kustov set the faintly glowing head of his hammer down on the ground, staring at nothing. He was casting, Bernt knew, and might need a few seconds.


    As the next wave of kobolds pushed into the basement and came up against the barricade, the guards repelled them with short spears while Bernt peppered them with fire darts¡ªit was already uncomfortably warm and he didn¡¯t want to heat up the room too much.


    Several went down, but more kept coming, crowding into the semicircular area between the tunnel entrance and the shoddy barricade. Then Kustov finished casting and the entire tunnel collapsed.


    Dust and bits of rock were hurled out, knocking down kobolds and hitting the barricade. Something slammed into Bernt and knocked him down. Claws scrabbled at him, and Bernt activated his thorn skin amulet, pushing back as hard as he could, feeling scales under his hands as the creature went flying. He sat up, casting a fire shield in front of himself, but he found it wasn¡¯t necessary. A guard was ramming a spear into his attacker, who had apparently jumped over the barricade in panic.


    A few seconds later, the dust hanging in the air fell like rain, drawn down to the ground by another of Kustov¡¯s spells and revealing the results.


    The tunnel was just¡­ gone. The kobolds closest to the entrance lay dead or dying, crushed by falling rocks, while the few who remained were desperately trying to climb over the barricade. They weren¡¯t going to make it.


    As Bernt watched, the guards cut them down, including a staff-carrying kobold that tried and failed to cast spells at them right up to the moment a spear took it through the chest.


    Silence descended on the room, broken only by heavy breathing and the quiet whimper of a dying kobold.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just do that in the first place?!¡± demanded a guard, gesturing at the rubble with one hand as he pressed down on a wounded leg with the other.


    Kustov gave him a dour expression. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to close them. I figure it makes it easier to know where they¡¯ll be coming from. Now they¡¯ll probably open a new breach nearby¡ªand we¡¯re not going to find it till they start spilling into the city. But there were too many of them here.¡± He shrugged. ¡°No sense in dying.¡±


    Bernt spat out some grit that had gotten into his mouth during the collapse. ¡°So, that wasn¡¯t normal? If they¡¯re pushing harder here¡­ what about everywhere else?¡±


    In the distance, the faint sound of trumpets sounded an alarm, then another and another.


    ***


    Master Alchemist Theresa stared at the letter, reading it for the third time as she ignored the alarms sounding from the breach near the western walls. The guards would be fighting kobolds there¡ªnothing serious in her estimation. If an actual elder dragon was going to come for the city, it would have done so already. Besides, what could a deep dragon possibly want so close to the surface, anyway?


    Not that she believed the fantastical reports coming out of the Adventurers¡¯ Guild in the first place. Those fools had died somehow, to be sure. But that didn¡¯t mean there had to be an elder dragon. They¡¯d likely gone in completely unprepared to deal with a moderately organized enemy supported by mind sorcerers. Now they were humiliated. They would call in the army, storm the dungeon and wipe out the kobolds. Then they would claim the dragon made a strategic retreat, or something similarly difficult to prove.


    No, what was serious was how first the Underkeepers and now the Mages¡¯ Guild were taking advantage of this situation. First, that half-baked Underkeeper archmage managed to seize control of half the guard and started turning her Guild¡¯s own charter against her, demanding nonstandard elixirs in ridiculous quantities with practically no notice. Then, within hours, she¡¯d learned most of the city¡¯s supply of castrum root had already been bought up. They¡¯d barely been able to make three hundred doses with what remained. Ed must have known she couldn¡¯t meet such a quota.


    Her first thought was that the Underkeepers had bought it up, but now¡­ she tapped the letter.


    Master Alchemist Theresa,


    It has come to my attention that your guild is experiencing a shortage in some critical reagents, namely castrum root. As a token of goodwill and solidarity, I¡¯m sending our guild herbalist¡¯s supply to you free of charge. I¡¯ve also taken the liberty of contacting our supplier on your behalf, and would be happy to arrange a meeting for you in the coming days.


    With highest regards,


    Archmage Iriala, Halfbridge Mages¡¯ Guild Administrator


    The wording was friendly, sure, but the message was not. The tiny bag of castrum root sitting on her desk was barely enough for ten doses, and served more as proof the old hag had access to the stuff than anything else. Iriala was putting her into a corner, but she wasn¡¯t a fool. The archmage was a diviner¡ªof course she would have known what Thurdred was about to pull and seized the opportunity to make some money. Her ¡°supplier¡± would probably just be a guild-affiliated merchant cutting her in.


    But that was better than the Underkeepers buying up and destroying the reagents to try to take down her entire branch. No amount of money was worth losing the guild¡¯s exclusivity rights in the city. That would create a safe haven for nonguild alchemists, and that was a threat to the national guild in the long term.


    As long as Iriala kept her prices somewhat reasonable for the circumstances, it wouldn¡¯t have to get nasty and everyone could walk away satisfied.


    In the distance, Theresa heard someone scream.

 40. Invasion Pt. 2

    Leaving a few of the guards behind to watch the sealed tunnel, Bernt followed Kustov out into the city. If the kobolds were properly coordinating an assault, that might mean the dragon had decided to move. Even if it didn¡¯t, this suggested the enemy was growing more organized. Regardless, the geomancer had decided they should go and reinforce the remaining breaches rather than waste time watching one that wasn¡¯t likely to be reopened in the immediate future.


    He could feel Jori¡¯s presence over toward the east, probably near to the main breach. He wasn¡¯t sure what she might be doing over there, but he supposed it was just as well that she wasn¡¯t here in the thick of things. Who knows how the guards might react.


    Just like when the original breach had formed, traffic flowed away from the sound of the trumpets, trying to escape any active fighting. This left Bernt and Kustov moving against the tide, so to speak, toward the next-closest breach. It was the only one besides the main breach that offered a clear route to the street level. This time, the kobolds had burrowed out of the side of a hill in a small park near the city center.


    As they approached the site, a roar filled the air and a nearby house went up in flames. Surprised shouts sounded from inside, followed by screeches. Acting on reflex, Bernt immediately raised his pyromancer¡¯s wand and controlled the fire, drawing it down and trying to extinguish it by spreading its heat out and away from the flames. Killing a fire was much harder than making one, but he had a lot of practice. It was one of the first things any aspiring pyromancer had to learn.


    Doing his best to maintain the spell, Bernt hummed a tune, focusing an additional mana flow into an aeromancy spell. Like most people who had a gift for fire, Bernt also excelled at air magic. It had always felt natural, and didn¡¯t tax his concentration too much. At the same time, it was never quite as exciting to work with as fire. But he was no slouch, and there was a lot of air to work with when casting outdoors like this.


    It took more power than he would have liked, but the air thinned around the building in question, bringing the flames down lower. The building smoked more as the fire was smothered, and about twenty seconds later, Bernt released the spell. He felt like he¡¯d been scraped raw from the inside.


    He wasn¡¯t used to moving that much energy around.


    Looking around for Kustov and the guards, he realized they had gone on without him, probably to deal with whatever had caused the fire in the first place. He was torn for a moment. Should he go into the building to make sure everyone was alright?


    No. He shook his head and hurried after the others. He wasn¡¯t a healer, and he heard fighting up ahead. Bernt turned the corner, and found himself standing on a battlefield.


    Small knots of soldiers fought a growing mob of kobolds that rapidly moved to encircle them. As Bernt watched, a group of three guards went down, swarmed in seconds. Where was Kustov? And where was their support? There should have already been at least one mage and an adventurer or two on watch here.


    But there wasn¡¯t time.


    Bernt raised his wand and focused on the breach itself, which was vomiting more kobolds every second. If they couldn¡¯t stem the flow, they were going to be overwhelmed here. He formed a roiling orb of flames in the air in front of him. Before he could finish his spell, though, the entire breach closed like a gigantic mouth and swallowed the kobolds that had been climbing out.


    Right¡ªKustov was here, and he would have been thinking the same way.


    Breathing a small sigh of relief, Bernt changed his target, found what looked like the center of the mob and unleashed his spell. It looked like a fireball, but quite a bit larger.


    That made sense, considering how similar the spells were. But where fireballs were meant to take out a single target, this was a spell for war, usually thrown in a volley by as many as fifty pyromancers to threaten entire battalions of soldiers. The spell, called a firestorm, only reached its full potential when cast concurrently by many mages at once, but it wasn¡¯t ineffective in this form, either. It was the capstone of the basic pyromancer qualification¡ªsince nearly all pyromancers moved directly to the military from the academy.


    Bernt hadn¡¯t cast it in two years, but this was the time.


    The massive flaming projectile roared into the mass of kobolds, where it unraveled into a spinning vortex of fire so intense that Bernt felt it scorch his face from where he stood. Kobolds screamed and died in a wide area, several paces around the impact point. Others pushed away from the fire, trying to escape the pain of more minor burns.


    Bernt¡¯s vision blurred and his head swam for a moment. Casting two powerful spells like this in such quick succession exhausted him. Really, he shouldn¡¯t have even attempted it. Throwing too many big spells around in a short time could damage his spirit. That would weaken his concentration and make spellcasting painful. If the damage was bad, the weakening effect could even be permanent. He could feel the ache of it, but it didn¡¯t seem like he¡¯d done anything serious to himself this time.


    Just then, a cry went up from some of the kobolds, and he saw one pointing right at him. Bernt¡¯s blood froze as heads turned to look. He raised his wand and cast a fire dart at the group. It worked, eliciting a scream from a kobold as the flame burned through the scales over its ribs. But it hurt Bernt, too. His right arm hung at his side, useless. It tingled painfully as if he¡¯d just banged the inside of his elbow against something. He¡¯d bungled the mana flows a bit, probably, and strained himself as a result. If he wanted to cast like this in a fight, he needed to get stronger.


    Assuming he lived that long.


    The kobolds charged at him. Bernt activated his thorn skin amulet and looked for a way out, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of thorns pricking his neck.


    There was a group of guards nearby, but not close enough to help him. Besides, they had their own problems to deal with. He raised his wand again, in his left hand this time, and tried to think of a spell that might save his life right now. He could only cast one, and it had to be fast.


    But nothing came to mind¡ªthere just wasn¡¯t enough time.


    The entire group of kobolds disintegrated into a spray of body parts and gore. Bernt flinched unconsciously, but not at the spectacle. It was the sound. An earsplitting, deranged laugh boomed through the park at an obviously unnatural volume.


    In front of him, the entire kobold incursion fell apart, brought down by a single large fighter holding a bloodied sword in one hand and a broken spear in the other. Split by Bernt¡¯s undersized firestorm, the kobolds had reformed into smaller groups, each going after the weakest targets they could find. Over the course of maybe thirty seconds, the madman worked his way through group after group, not breaking stride for even a moment. He didn¡¯t look graceful, the way Furin or Oren did when they were fighting. He just ran right at the enemy and swung at them as hard and fast as he could. And that was very hard and fast.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    When the last group of kobolds was down, the man stopped, looking around for more targets as he gasped little cackling laughs between his heavy breaths. He was covered in wounds, most relatively light, but a few looked serious. He bled heavily from a deep cut on his arm and a puncture wound in his side. Even in those few seconds, though, the blood on his hand stopped dripping, and several of the smaller cuts on his face just¡­ closed up.


    Bernt gaped. He¡¯d never seen a berserker in action before, but there weren¡¯t many ways to explain what he was looking at.


    ¡°Do we have a healer? Who has potions?¡±


    It was one of the guards¡ªone of theirs, from the first breach earlier. She was on her knees, leaning over another armored form and pushing down on his leg as blood seeped out between her fingers. Another guard was tying his belt around the leg in a makeshift tourniquet.


    Kustov. That was Kustov.


    Bernt hurried over. He stumbled over the body of a kobold and almost cut himself on the spearhead that stuck out of its back. Arriving, he pulled out a minor healing potion¡ªall he could get, considering his relationship with the alchemists¡ªand handed it to the woman. She accepted it, though with a slight grimace.


    ¡°Ah, same shit as we get on watch.¡±


    She poured it into Kustov¡¯s mouth. The dwarf wasn¡¯t unconscious, but he wasn¡¯t exactly all there, either. A few moments later, a bit of color returned to his face, and his breathing evened out. As long as they made sure he didn¡¯t bleed out in the next few minutes, he would probably be fine.


    There was a lot of blood on the ground. Bernt took a moment to look up and around and realized they¡¯d lost a lot of people, and many more were injured, by the looks of it.


    The bottom dropped out of Bernt¡¯s stomach at the sight. He¡¯d seen bloody fighting before, but this felt different. This was in the middle of Halfbridge. Things like this just weren¡¯t supposed to happen here¡ªand he didn¡¯t have any more potions on him.


    Two guards ran up from the periphery doling out more potions from bags they had tied to their belts. Another was bent over one of the wounded, applying a bandage. Bernt felt some relief at the sight. They knew how to handle things like this. It was their job, after all.


    A hand descended on his shoulder.


    ¡°Underkeeper?¡± a smooth, neutral voice said. Bernt turned and found himself facing the gigantic berserker, who looked completely calm now, like a totally different person. ¡°That was a pretty good spell. Can you do it again? We should get to the main breach¡ªthat¡¯s probably where the biggest push will be.¡±


    Bernt shook his head, clearing his mind. The man¡¯s confident tone helped to ground him, and reminded him that he had his own responsibilities here.


    ¡°I can¡¯t. I injured myself with that one¡ªI¡¯ll get my colleague over there to headquarters and see if I can find anyone else there to help.¡±


    The berserker frowned, but nodded. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll update your commander. Send anyone you can find there, alright?¡±


    Bernt nodded back, but the berserker was already running off, not even bothering to try to rally any of the guards. Bernt decided not to worry about it. He needed to see to Kustov.


    ***


    Jori watched with some trepidation as kobolds spilled out of the sewers. She¡¯d been on her way to check in on Theresa, the bad alchemist woman, when the trumpets went off, first to her right, then ahead and to the left. While the imp didn¡¯t know what the signals meant, she could guess. The kobolds were coming in force.


    At first, she had turned to go back the way she came, toward Bernt, but then she remembered she couldn¡¯t get into that stupid guard building. Instead, she¡¯d decided to check on the nearest breach, which was located in the sewers near the wall on the eastern side¡ªnot too far from the main breach, incidentally.


    Approaching the spot now, she doubted she could even reach it¡ªthe people guarding this entrance must have been completely overrun. She needed to tell the Great Mage, Ed.


    Turning away and keeping out of sight as much as possible, she climbed the nearest house and began running toward the main breach in a straight line. She jumped from rooftop to rooftop, spreading her wings to give her a bit more distance on a few of the longer jumps. Considering what was going on, she hoped not too many people would be looking closely enough to recognize her for what she was.


    A short while later, she caught sight of the main breach up against the wall. All the noise¡ªshouts, clattering noises and screams¡ªindicated a fight was going on, but she could only see guards and a few people she assumed to be adventurers. Whatever the kobolds were doing here, they weren¡¯t making much progress.


    She made the last jump from this roof to the slightly lower one of the rowhouse that held the command post. This was where things would get tricky.


    Jori needed to reach Ed without the guards seeing her¡ªthey hadn¡¯t immediately attacked her before, but this was a bad time to count on good luck. Most of them were facing the other way, which was fortunate, but she knew a few were probably guarding the door, just like the last time she was there.


    She looked around consideringly. Maybe a solution would just present itself! She pondered for a moment and then scampered across the shifty roof tiles to the far side, peeking down into the alley behind the house. It was a blank wall. Hmm. No windows.


    Then her gaze fell to her feet.


    Experimentally, she reached down and tugged on one of the roof tiles. It lifted easily, revealing the wooden skeleton underneath. Pulling up a few more tiles and setting them onto the roof beside her, she then jumped through the gap between the slats, and landed on the dusty, dry wooden floor of an old attic. She sneezed, choking on the dust she¡¯d just kicked up, and flailed at a cobweb stuck to her face.


    That wasn¡¯t so hard.


    Below she heard Ed¡¯s voice as he gave gruff orders to someone else. Quickly but quietly, Jori descended, then stopped in the tiny room at the base of the stairs. A moment later, she heard steps as the other person left, and then all she heard was a pen scratching on paper.


    She opened the door and scampered inside, where Ed was sitting with his back to her, hunched forward over a small desk. A wisp of smoke rose from his pipe, which she could just see jutting out to the side of his head.


    ¡°Great One!¡± she called out. ¡°There are kobolds in the streets!¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± The archmage turned in his seat, surprised. He pulled his pipe out of his mouth and furrowed his brow. ¡°How did you get in here?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the closest breach,¡± she explained, pointing to her left. ¡°That way!¡±


    Ed¡¯s expression shifted from confusion to comprehension and then alarm. He immediately cast a spell that created a moving picture in the air in front of him. It wasn¡¯t detailed, but it showed a mob of small forms swarming down a blurry street¡ªthe kobolds, she guessed.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he cursed, and cast another spell. Another picture formed, though this time the street was empty.


    He cast the spell twice more. Both time, the picture showed small groups of kobolds running down a street. In one, they were chasing bigger people, probably humans, until the humans ran into a house and slammed the door in their pursuers¡¯ faces.


    ¡°They¡¯re coming up all over the place.¡± He breathed. ¡°There have to be new breaches involved here. How the hell did Iri miss this?¡±


    The old man rose and strode to the door, but he stopped, looking back at her.


    ¡°What happened to Bernt? Why aren¡¯t you over with him?¡±


    Jori shrugged. ¡°I couldn¡¯t get into the guardhouse. Bernt is¡­¡± She felt at the familiar bond, finding a few impressions, but no clear images or sounds. ¡°Bernt is fighting, but not afraid. He is fine.¡±


    Ed nodded, businesslike. ¡°Good. I¡¯ll check the other breaches in a moment. See if you can find Iriala and help her with whatever she¡¯s doing. She should have seen this coming. If she didn¡¯t, it means a stronger diviner than her was obscuring her sight. She might need help. Regardless, I could really use her here. I hate this scrying crap, and the gods know we need her sight for this.¡±


    Then he was out the door, bellowing orders at the top of his lungs.


    Jori hesitated. She wanted to go check on Bernt. But¡­ she needed to get into Ed¡¯s good graces. Besides, Bernt would probably want her to help him anyway.


    Making up her mind, she darted back up the stairs toward the open roof.

 41. Invasion Pt. 3

    Kustov, as it turned out, was going to be just fine¡ªthough not necessarily soon. He¡¯d taken a deep puncture wound to the leg, and that tourniquet had probably saved his life. That healing potion helped a little too, but Bernt doubted it would have been enough.


    By the time they reached the main guard station, Kustov was mostly back to his senses and cursing up a storm. The wound wasn¡¯t closed, but Bernt supposed at least the nicked artery that had almost killed the dwarf was sealed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care if he¡¯s stable, we need all the mages up and fighting¡ªespecially that one!¡± Palina, the senior guardswoman in charge, was furiously shouting at the quartermaster, demanding a better healing potion for Kustov. ¡°I get why they decided to leave the breaches open, but that only works if we can actually repel all of the attacks. I don¡¯t know where Janus is, or if he¡¯s even closing them now, so I want Kustov here on his feet now!¡±


    Grumbling, the quartermaster turned around and vanished into a small storage room for a few seconds before reemerging with a standard healing potion. It wasn¡¯t as good as a superior healing potion, but it could fix almost anything within a few minutes. It also cost less than half as much as a superior potion, which made it the healing solution of choice for military officers.


    ¡°Uh¡­ why did they leave the breaches open?¡± Bernt asked as Palina handed the potion over to Kustov, who downed it, still muttering curses to himself in Dwarvish. ¡°The kobolds would have kept digging new ones, sure, but it would have been a lot harder for them to attack from multiple points like this, right?¡±


    Kustov grimaced as he loosened the tourniquet and removed it from his leg. ¡°It makes them easier to predict,¡± he explained. ¡°Or that was the idea, probably. And I¡¯m sure the army¡¯s planning to use those same tunnels to go in¡ªmight have been orders from the general. Whatever the case, our diviners predicted every significant attack so far, as far as I know. They probably thought it wasn¡¯t a big risk.¡±


    Bernt stared blankly, but then shook his head. ¡°What do we do now? I overdid it in that fight, putting out the house fire and then casting the firestorm¡ªI can¡¯t cast.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, you did the right thing. Probably saved a lot of people¡¯s lives, doing that. You should be proud!¡± The other mage fumbled at a pouch at his belt, pulled out a small vial and held it out. ¡°Drink this. It¡¯s not going to fix anything, but it¡¯ll kill the pain. If you stick to small spells and take your time, you¡¯ll be fine. Don¡¯t overdo it. Just cover my back and let me do the heavy work.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Bernt said as he accepted the potion a bit apprehensively. What counted as a small spell? ¡°I¡¯ll pay you back.¡±


    The dwarf waved him off and rose, putting some weight on his wounded leg to test it out. It held. He nodded to Palina and the quartermaster.


    ¡°I¡¯m ready to go. How many guards can you spare for me? And did anyone remember to grab my hammer?¡±


    ***


    They¡¯d barely left the guard station when they ran into another group of guards hauling a wounded Underkeeper¡ªSen. He was unconscious, deathly pale and being carried by three guards. Bernt¡¯s group slowed down a moment to check on their colleague. He was bleeding from his side and one leg ended in a stump at the ankle. That would mean early retirement. There were limits to what a potion could do. Bernt wanted to stop and make sure he¡¯d be alright, but Kustov put a hand on his arm and pulled him away.


    The first breach they visited was completely fine. Dayle was manning it, and he¡¯d managed to slaughter the entire attacking force before his supporting guards, or the paladin who was supposed to shield him, even had a chance to get involved. As far as they could tell, there hadn¡¯t even been a sorcerer. The two mages closed the tunnel easily, and Dayle¡¯s group joined them looking for more trouble. Bernt was already weakened and exhausted, but he knew it would get worse before it got better. Trumpets and shouts rang out from all around now, and dark smoke rose in the distance.


    The battle went on for hours as they rushed from breach to breach, closing them up even as new ones opened¡ªmostly in the sewers. Some came up directly underneath buildings, much to the dismay of the residents battened down inside. In one case, a house collapsed onto one unlucky kobold tunneling crew that had undermined a load-bearing wall, closing the breach before it even formed. As the only one qualified to help, Kustov had sent Dayle and his team ahead while he worked to pull the survivors out of the rubble. As he did, Bernt and the guards escorted them up to the nearest properly defended guard station.


    Bernt did his best to cast as conservatively as possible, only attacking kobolds that managed to come close enough to threaten Kustov, himself, or his charges. Despite his armor and melee weapon, the geomancer kept back, concentrating instead on closing tunnels and fouling the terrain for entire groups of kobolds as they tried to break through barricades and swarm into the streets.


    In more than one place, the defenses had been breached entirely, leading to running battles in the town. Fortunately, they weren¡¯t working alone. Teams of mixed adventurers, guards, Underkeepers, guild mages, and the occasional civilian crossed paths, coordinating and exchanging information with each other as best they could to cover all of the enemy approaches.


    From one such team, Bernt heard that Uriah had single-handedly cleared a breach by flooding it with sewage. From another, they heard that Janus, the most powerful geomancer in the city, hadn¡¯t joined in to close the breaches. The reason for this was that he was, by himself, holding up the city wall against hundreds of enemy diggers. The kobolds had managed to undermine significant portions of the wall without anyone noticing¡ªnot until several sections started to crumble at the same time. Janus was under heavy attack from regular kobolds as well as a few sorcerers, but was enduring with the support of several other adventurers. There was no telling how long the fight would take.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    For a moment, Bernt wondered where his party was right now. Were they out here, fighting? Or had they maybe taken a quest outside the city? He hoped, for their sake, that it was the latter.


    Jori, Bernt knew, was supporting Iriala in much the same way that he was backing up Kustov. He didn¡¯t have many details through the familiar bond, except that Jori, for some reason, was increasingly fascinated by Iriala¡¯s glasses, stealing glances at them every few seconds. He¡¯d have to ask her what that was all about.


    The bond still gave him a general idea of what was going on once they were close enough to each other. The imp was accompanying Iriala to the main breach, stopping to fight a few times along the way. To his surprise, Iriala didn¡¯t use any big spells to fight¡ªinstead she cast magic missiles at an impossible pace, each one finding its mark unerringly, as if the spell itself knew where its target was going to be. It looked completely effortless.


    Bernt lost track of time after a while. He grew numb to the sight of blood and the sounds of screams, too tired to worry about them anymore. He just followed Kustov and watched for danger. One breach after another.


    Sometimes, rarely, a messenger would find them with instructions, sending them to this spot or that to do what they¡¯d already been doing. He didn¡¯t know how long it went on, but he was worn out. The numb, tingling pain shooting down his arm had spread to his entire right side now, and it was getting harder to keep up with Kustov¡¯s punishing pace.


    Eventually, he started seeing other people running down the streets. People wearing matching armor and gold-and-black uniforms. They were mostly humans, and they obviously knew their business. Their large groups moved confidently, sweeping through the streets and the sewers simultaneously. Who were they? Bernt had walked several blocks more before he finally managed to assemble the information into a coherent thought.


    They were soldiers. The army had arrived.


    Finally.


    Bernt was looking for kobolds so intently as they walked that he didn¡¯t realize where his group was going until they were standing in view of the command post at the main breach. Ed was there, framed in the doorway to the command post with Iriala on one side and a severe-looking man in his early forties on the other. He wore a crisp gold-and-black uniform and a sword, but no armor. A gold tassel was attached to his left shoulder. That made him a royal of some kind.


    Concentrating on his bond for a moment, Bernt saw that Jori was further inside the building, keeping out of sight. He had no idea how she¡¯d gotten in there, but he was glad she was keeping a low profile.


    The breach itself was a mess. The hole in the street that led down to it was almost twice as wide as before, and the wall behind it now sagged perilously inward. The barricades were nowhere in evidence. Bernt couldn¡¯t tell whether they had been removed or were buried under all the kobold bodies and debris.


    Clearly the defenders had taken losses too, but the kobolds had it far, far worse.


    They were winning.


    Bernt¡¯s head swam, and he sat down hard against the wall. A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up to see Kustov¡¯s face. The dwarf was saying something.


    ¡°¡­alright?¡±


    Bernt nodded. He wasn¡¯t hurt. He just¡­ couldn¡¯t think straight.


    A short while later, his mind cleared again. Somewhat, anyway.


    There were soldiers standing in the street now. Ranks upon ranks of them, holding spears and wearing short swords on their hips. They were just standing there, waiting.


    Bernt heaved himself back to his feet. There was a shout to his left, over by the breach, and he raced toward it. Men and women in guards¡¯ uniforms climbed up to street level alongside a heavily armored man dragging a massive two-handed sword, a cleric in badly stained white robes, and an extremely bedraggled-looking woman in gray robes¡ªFiora.


    As they emerged, the remaining guards and adventurers outside the tunnels fired arrows and threw rocks to slow the pursuing kobolds pushing outward. But they weren¡¯t just regular kobolds. A few of the creatures had wings, and one was much taller and broader than the others, carrying a runed staff¡ªclearly a sorcerer, but different from those Bernt had encountered in the dungeon before.


    The guards kept retreating, backing up further until the kobolds had control of the entire breach, past where the barricades had been before. He would have to move soon, at this rate.


    Bernt couldn¡¯t understand why. What was the point of letting the enemy gain a foothold like this? Why wasn¡¯t the army fighting them yet?


    The big kobold shouted and raised its staff as others streamed past him. It was casting something, Bernt was sure.


    Summoning every last bit of focus he could, Bernt raised his wand and cast. He didn¡¯t know why the army, the guards and Ed were allowing this to happen, but he couldn¡¯t just stand by and let that horrible creature finish its spell.


    His fire dart flew like an ember from a hearth and struck the sorcerer directly in the face. The creature flinched and swatted at his face as if stung. He didn¡¯t know if he was just that tired, or if the big sorcerer had some kind of special resistance to fire. It raised its staff once more and began casting again. Well, at least he¡¯d distracted him for a second.


    Maybe it would make a difference.


    Just as he had the thought, a spell struck the creature with a noise like cracking thunder. Bernt had only glimpsed it, but he thought it was a magic missile¡ªIf it could be called that. The force projectile had been longer than his arm and shone with an incandescent blue light. Bernt couldn¡¯t even begin to guess how much force was bound into the spell.


    The kobolds still streaming past the sorcerer were flung outward like rag dolls, slamming against their comrades, the wall, and even a few of the retreating guards. The sorcerer was just¡­ gone.


    Before Bernt could process what he was seeing, a massive half-dome of force went up, locking the entire kobold advance inside. He looked around in bewilderment and spotted the source of the spell a moment later. An entire team of ten uniformed mages with white bands around their left arms was channeling the spell in unison, each holding an identically carved straight staff.


    Standing right next to them were Ed and Iriala, though only Ed seemed to be casting right now. He was weaving his pipe in an abstruse pattern¡ªsomething complex, considering what the man could do with a simple hand wave.


    He finished the spell with a simple downward flick of the pipe, and the ground shook with a deep, bone-rattling boom. That was followed by a silence only broken by the clacking of stray rocks. They rained down toward the breach from the sagging wall and bounced off the shield for a few moments before the team of force mages released the dome.


    The kobolds were¡­ dead. They were very, very dead. They lay completely motionless, strewn over the ground, not even twitching. Nothing came up behind them.


    What kind of spell was that?


    Bernt was still puzzling it out as another group of mages advanced on the breach¡ªthese wearing brown armbands. They were geomancers, Bernt realized as they, in the space of a few seconds, completely repaired the broken-down wall and cleared the path down into the dungeon. As soon as a gap was opened up, ranks upon ranks of soldiers started marching down, taking the fight to the enemy.


    It was over. Finally.

 42. A New Task

    Two hours later, Bernt was sitting back at the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters in the main room, alongside his colleagues. Nearly everyone looked as beat up as he did, covered in sweat, grime, and minor injuries that weren¡¯t worth wasting a healing potion on. Someone had brought in a few bottles of wine, and they passed one around as they swapped stories of the day¡¯s happenings.


    Fiora had spent the whole day defending the main breach with the support of an entire party of adventurers and fifteen guards. They¡¯d managed, mostly by keeping the mass of incoming kobolds bottled up in the tunnel mouth, where they couldn¡¯t take advantage of their superior numbers. Still, the kobolds had been creative, deploying a geomancy sorcerer to rapidly open a second tunnel right next to the first, and then breaking through into the defender¡¯s flank to widen the original breach. That nearly brought down the city wall, but it also gave the kobolds more space to work with. Fiora¡¯s team had lost a few people there, but they still managed to hold the line until the army arrived.


    Bernt¡¯s mind was slowly recovering from the excessive strain of casting so many spells, but a bone-deep pain had settled into his entire body to replace the mental fuzziness he¡¯d felt before.


    The alcohol helped with that. A little.


    The conversation died at the sound of an odd scrabbling up above them. Everyone glanced up. There was Jori perched on top of a rafter in plain view of everyone present, wearing her Underkeeper¡¯s robes and spinning in a circle as she tried to reach an itchy spot on her back, between her wings. Most of the Underkeepers knew about her now, except for Kustov, Yarrod and Uriah¡ªthough they¡¯d probably heard the rumors about the Underkeeper warlock by now.


    All three of them looked up at the imp uneasily, but took their cue from Ed, who simply nodded at her and gestured for her to come down. Then he looked meaningfully over at Bernt.


    ¡°Introduce your demon.¡±


    Bernt flushed slightly, but sat up straight. At the same time, Jori jumped down, spreading her wings briefly to slow her descent before landing near the center of the room.


    ¡°Hi! My name is Jori,¡± she said, cutting off what Bernt had been about to say. She smiled at the group, revealing sharp, needle-like teeth that made her look quite a bit more threatening than usual. She held out her hand to a bemused Yarrod, who was just barely taller than her. The gnome leaned back before controlling himself.


    ¡°Ahem,¡± he coughed politely, then reached out and gingerly shook her hand. ¡°Well. I never!¡± He looked over at Bernt. ¡°Young man, what in the heavens¡¯ name happened to you down in that dungeon?¡±


    ¡°I actually found her in the sewers a while back,¡± Bernt confessed, but he didn¡¯t elaborate.


    As Bernt talked, Jori moved on to Kustov, who didn¡¯t shake her hand, but gave her a slight bow. She returned it, and held out her hand to Uriah.


    He did not look amused.


    ¡°Ed. Why is that demon in here?¡±


    Bernt didn¡¯t know Uriah very well, since they¡¯d never had an assignment together. He was a hydromancer who botched his augmentation somehow and never made it to the rank of magister. Working as an Underkeeper was most likely the best-earning job he could find after his accident, and his specialization probably made him the most qualified person in the room for the job. He was certainly a skilled hydromancer, even if he wasn¡¯t especially powerful.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Ed said. ¡°We have an understanding.¡±


    The archmage sat down, and put his unlit pipe in his mouth. The tobacco lit as if by itself as he puffed on it¡ªone of the benefits of his unorthodox focus, Bernt supposed.


    ¡°Why¡¯s it wearing our robes?¡± Uriah probed further, his face drawn into a sneer. He clearly wasn¡¯t a fan of this situation.


    Well, Bernt supposed, there¡¯s no time like the present. He cleared his throat, drawing Uriah¡¯s attention.


    ¡°Jori was taking out rats and other minor nuisances in the sewers when I found her. She¡¯s practically already a city maintenance worker. We should bring her on! She saved quite a few adventurers down in the dungeon, too!¡±


    Kustov snorted. ¡°You want us to start summoning demons to work for the Underkeepers? Or maybe just city maintenance? Are you mad?¡±


    ¡°No, no. I was thinking more like a hire. I think she¡¯s a natural fit for our organization, really. Both for our original mandate and the new one.¡± Bernt hesitated. ¡°Uh¡­ are we still responsible for defending the city with the army here?¡±


    Ed nodded. ¡°Technically yes. But no, I¡¯m not about to start putting demons on the payroll. Not that we have the money for it anyhow. The new mandate gave us looting rights in the dungeon, but General Arice and the count made it clear those wouldn¡¯t apply to any kobolds that died outside of it. I¡¯m working on the budgeting issue, but at the moment, we don¡¯t even know if we¡¯ll still have that mandate tomorrow. The army is here now, after all, and the enemy damn well broke into the city on our watch. We lost people¡ªtoo many. Civilians got killed!¡±


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    The last came out a little too loud, his voice brimming with restrained anger. He wasn¡¯t upset at them so much as himself, Bernt knew, though it surprised him a little to see it. Despite the fact that they¡¯d been spread far too thin and faced a massive assault from many different fronts, Ed still seemed to feel that he failed somehow¡ªthat he should have been able to keep them out of the city entirely. That or maybe he just wished he¡¯d disobeyed orders and closed all of those extra breaches.


    Uriah cleared his throat obnoxiously.


    ¡°Ahem! Bringing the point back to the demon in the room¡­ why, exactly, aren¡¯t we killing it? Especially if, as Bernt over there said, he found it in the sewer¡ªit¡¯s our responsibility! More importantly, we can¡¯t do our jobs if people think that we¡¯re going to abduct and murder their children so we can trade their souls in for power in some horrific infernal ritual.¡±


    Bernt squirmed as the argument hit home. What was he supposed to say to that? This was the exact reason why he¡¯d kept Jori hidden in the first place. The little imp had backed away from the mage and now sat on top of an empty chest near Ed.


    Ed rolled his eyes at the other mage. ¡°You know that¡¯s not how warlocks even work. Not the ones that survive long enough to actually be seen in the streets, anyway.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s irrelevant!¡± snapped Uriah. ¡°It¡¯s a breach of public trust!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± Ed said firmly, eyes going hard at the other man¡¯s tone. ¡°Jori made herself pretty godsdamned useful today¡ªshe probably saved many lives. I¡¯m not going to see her killed for no reason, and you¡¯re not going to push me. I don¡¯t have the patience to worry about superstitious idiots when there¡¯s a war on.¡±


    Bernt stared at the archmage in surprise. He¡¯d expected him to brush Uriah off, sure. If he cared about the opinion of the public enough to kill Jori, he would have done it last week. But that sounded almost like an endorsement of Jori.


    What had she been up to during the battle? If Jori had managed to impress Ed somehow¡­ that might change things a little. And the fact that the Solicitors were trying to get something out of Ed¡ªor maybe Iriala¡ªwith that contract.


    An idea started to take shape in his head and, plucking up his courage, he reached into his pouch and withdrew a stack of papers. It was a chance. Maybe it was nothing, but maybe there was something there. He had to try it.


    ¡°Uh¡­ Ed? I think the Solicitors¡­¡± He stood up to hand the papers to Ed, trying to find the right words. ¡°I think they¡¯re actually hoping that we bring Jori in as an Underkeeper. Or that we keep her, at least. They¡­ suggested that you could sponsor her permanently as her guarantor. You or Iriala, I mean.¡±


    At least, that was what the paperwork suggested. Verbally, Radast had pushed Bernt toward a pact¡ªquite forcefully, in fact. Bernt had no idea what to make of that, but he wasn¡¯t going to spend his life untangling the machinations of people who wrote contracts for a living.


    ¡°A¡­ guarantor.¡± Ed¡¯s habitual scowl deepened thoughtfully as he accepted the papers and began scanning through them. Dayle passed the wine to Kustov and the two started a quiet conversation in the background, apparently not as invested in the discussion as Uriah, who was still watching Ed with a sour frown.


    The archmage read silently for a moment, then muttered ¡°What kind of game are they playing?¡± and flipped to a new page. Bernt could tell when he got to the clause about announcing the contract publicly. Ed stopped and looked up, sighing.


    ¡°Yorith¡¯s balls, Bernt. How is it that every time another organization wants to play politics with us, you¡¯re right there in the middle of it?¡±


    Bernt shrugged awkwardly. ¡°I¡­ What does it mean? Is this sort of thing rare?¡±


    ¡°Rare?¡± Ed laughed humorlessly. ¡°This is the first time I¡¯ve ever heard of anything like this. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if it¡¯s never been done before. I¡¯d bet it¡¯s a relic from the original agreement that legalized demon summoning in the realm and officially established the Solicitors in the first place.¡±


    ¡°What will you do?¡± Bernt asked. He felt nervous sweat drip down his side, but tried not to show it. He was too tired to have this conversation right now. Worse, everyone was listening¡ªhe never could think in front of an audience like this. If Ed rejected the idea out of hand, he didn¡¯t know what he was going to say or do.


    Ed folded the papers and stuck them in his pocket. He looked over to Jori first, meeting her red eyes, which looked up at him with feigned nonchalance. Bernt felt her trepidation, and he was sure Ed could see it on her just as easily.


    ¡°Jori, you¡¯ve earned a little goodwill today. Whatever we do about this weird proposal here, I¡¯m not going to blow your head off on some Solicitor¡¯s say-so and they can¡¯t make me. That is, as long as you behave yourself and I don¡¯t have any reason to believe you¡¯re going to threaten anyone in my city. Do we understand each other?¡±


    Jori nodded with a bright smile. She was feeling relieved, though Bernt wasn¡¯t sure that was entirely warranted, all things considered.


    Ed turned back to Bernt. ¡°I¡¯m going to do what I did the last time someone tried to play games with us¡ªI¡¯m going to go talk to Iriala. And speaking of games, I have another job for you to do, but this one is strictly voluntary. It¡¯s¡­ not entirely without risks¡ªit¡¯ll probably result in some long-term hard feelings toward you from the Alchemists¡¯ Guild. I was going to handle it myself, but I¡¯ve been summoned to a meeting with the magistrate and the count at the same time tomorrow. I could have Dayle or Fiora do it, but I think it would send a stronger message if you represented us for it.¡±


    Bernt perked up. What did he have to lose? He very much doubted any of the city¡¯s alchemists would be civil toward him ever again. And they were the ones who¡¯d poisoned him!


    ¡°What¡¯s the job?¡±

 43. Negotiation

    The Crafters¡¯ District was in shambles. As he made his way through, Bernt saw broken windows and beaten-down doors everywhere. It looked like the kobolds had looted everything they could¡ªor perhaps a few of the residents had helped themselves in the aftermath. Bernt hadn¡¯t experienced life on the street, but he¡¯d been close enough to see what people would do if they thought they could get away with it.


    Of course, many of the shops survived with only minimal damage. A few had heavy security doors and iron bars set into the windows that could keep out rampaging kobolds just as well as would-be burglars. Others looked as vulnerable as any other building on their street, but hadn¡¯t been seriously damaged. This confused Bernt, until he noticed the bloodstains on or in front of many of them. Their owners had fought, and apparently quite a few had done well enough to drive the attackers away.


    It made sense, he supposed. Adventurers and soldiers tended to retire young¡ªand many did so with enough savings to their name to try their hand at business. As long as they¡¯d gotten a few friends together and weren¡¯t accosted in large numbers, experienced fighters wouldn¡¯t need to run from kobolds.


    Turning a corner, he caught sight of his destination¡ªMaster Alchemist Theresa¡¯s Shop. The army had cleared the bodies¡ªmostly kobolds¡ªfrom the streets last night, but apparently not here. It made sense. They would probably be too heavy for the cart, and they weren¡¯t going to spread any diseases at this point.


    There were eight statues in front of the shop, though not all of them were still standing. Two of the stone kobolds had toppled, and one lay broken into three pieces among scattered glass shards. Bernt guessed they¡¯d been moving when they were petrified and ended up in unbalanced positions.


    Bernt swallowed, his stomach fluttering. He was about to go in there and confront this woman. She couldn¡¯t hurt him, not openly, anyway. But this was still a powerful reminder of what he was dealing with.


    It would be fine, he told himself. He could feel the note in his pocket with Ed¡¯s instructions, as well as a writ in triplicate, signed by Ed, that granted him the right to negotiate in this matter. That wasn¡¯t to say the archmage trusted him to manage the negotiations on his own. That was what the note was for.


    He¡¯d memorized the entire procedure. How could he not? It wasn¡¯t long, and he¡¯d been nervously rehearsing it every waking minute since last night.


    Give her the price, hear her response, and offer her the olive branch. First the stick, then the carrot. Or at least a smaller stick. Whatever. It was simple.


    He reached the door and knocked twice. Then he entered.


    The inside of the shop looked exactly as it had the last time he¡¯d been here. The proprietor, Theresa, was sitting at a desk, noting something down in a ledger. Unlike last time, though, her apprentice was nowhere in evidence. At Bernt¡¯s entry, she looked up and her eyes narrowed.


    ¡°The young Underkeeper¡­ what are you doing here?¡± Her gaze moved down to his hand and she smirked ever so slightly. ¡°I hope your hand has recovered well¡­¡±


    Bernt kept himself from grimacing at her. His hand still hurt quite a bit, actually, but that was because of the battle yesterday. He hoped it was, anyway¡­ Could her weird metal have affected his spirit somehow?


    It couldn¡¯t. He was sure it couldn¡¯t. Besides, he hadn¡¯t felt anything until the battle. This wasn¡¯t the time for this kind of thinking. If it didn¡¯t go away, he¡¯d find someone who knew alchemy to ask about it. Someone who wasn¡¯t Theresa. He vividly remembered the way he¡¯d slapped the filthy poison metal into her hand as his fingers began to tingle. He doubted she would be any kind of help.


    ¡°It¡¯s like new, thanks to the treatment you so graciously provided,¡± he said, doing his best to imitate the tone he imagined someone like Iriala might take with the woman. He wanted to mention her own hand¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t think of a way to phrase it that wouldn¡¯t make him sound petty. Good enough, he supposed, that she probably had to use an expensive potion on herself as well.


    He waited for her to speak, but she didn¡¯t answer right away. So, he launched into his script.


    ¡°Ahem. My employer has been informed that you¡¯re having trouble sourcing castrum root for an unusually large government order. I¡¯ve been sent to explore if an arrangement can be made to solve your little problem.¡±


    Theresa¡¯s eyes bulged for a moment, but she had herself under control again so quickly that Bernt wondered if he¡¯d imagined it. Regarding him with a neutrally professional expression, she folded her hands on the desk and raised a single eyebrow.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    Bernt breathed and focused on not talking too quickly. He would sound nervous, and delivery was important. Well, it was important for one very specific reason. If he sounded nervous, she would see him as nothing but a frightened messenger boy. That wasn¡¯t what he wanted. He was acting in an official capacity here. He had a writ and everything!


    Remembering that writ, he pulled it out and handed her the copy labeled ¡°Customer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been empowered to negotiate on behalf of Archmage Thurdred in this matter.¡± He cleared his throat and adopted a more confident tone¡ªmore like what he¡¯d practiced at home last night. ¡°We have just over thirty-one pounds of unprocessed root that we are prepared to sell to you for 2400 gold marks.¡±


    The alchemist threw back her head and laughed. It wasn¡¯t a nice laugh, but she did sound genuinely amused. After a few seconds, she stopped, still chuckling a little, and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye.


    ¡°Ah, lovely. I needed that after a day like yesterday. That¡¯s a very tempting offer, I¡¯m sure.¡± Her expression sobered as she went on. ¡°But if the Underkeepers would like to sell us castrum root, they¡¯ll have to do it for the standard two gold, five silver marks per pound. Did the old man forget that your order is a part of the government?¡±


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    Now, though, it was Bernt¡¯s turn to offer a smile.


    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, fighting to keep his smile from turning too devious. ¡°It seems that there was a bit of confusion¡ªI¡¯m sure it¡¯s my robes. I¡¯m not actually here to represent the Underkeepers. If you¡¯ll take a look at the writ there, you¡¯ll see that I¡¯m negotiating on behalf of Archmage Thurdred. Privately, I mean.¡±


    While there was no practical difference between Ed and the Underkeepers in political terms, the same wasn¡¯t true when it came to business. Ed had bought the roots with his own money, and he was the one selling. He watched as Theresa¡¯s jaw clenched and she looked back down at the paper, which she hadn¡¯t bothered to read before.


    ¡°That bitch!¡± she hissed to herself. It took Bernt a moment to realize she was probably cursing Iriala. A few seconds later, she looked back up at him, narrowing her eyes in thought again.


    Bernt kept quiet, doing his best to keep his face impassive. Ed had stressed the importance of keeping your mouth shut when it was time for your opponent to feel uncomfortable, but it was much harder than it had sounded. This just didn¡¯t feel like a natural place in a conversation to clam up. Fortunately, there also wasn¡¯t anything helpful he could say¡ªnot that he could think of.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you ten gold marks per pound,¡± she finally said, voice grating through clenched teeth. ¡°That should be more than generous enough.¡±


    Bernt let out a slow breath. She had made a counteroffer¡ªthat was the first hurdle crossed.


    This was where things became a little¡­ complicated. They were talking business now, but Ed had emphasized to him that this was also politics. Bernt had talked about the specifics of the negotiation with Ed last night, and Fiora had coached him through it again this morning, just to be sure. He was here to send a message to the alchemists, but also to de-escalate the overall situation. They couldn¡¯t afford to make enemies¡ªeven if Bernt personally probably wouldn¡¯t be any alchemist¡¯s favorite customer after this.


    Outmaneuvering them with the castrum root was meant to show the Alchemists that they needed to take the Underkeepers seriously. That part was already done. Iriala¡¯s involvement alone had already done much to bolster their position in this respect as well¡ªit showed they weren¡¯t without friends.


    Now, Bernt was here for two reasons¡ªto extract a penalty for the petty hostility the alchemists had shown and the indirect attack on him personally, and to attempt to normalize the relationship between the two organizations.


    That meant he had to be careful not to push Theresa into real financial difficulties, but she still had to feel it. It had to be significant, but not too much. Worse, if they didn¡¯t come to a deal and the guild actually lost their exclusivity rights in the city, the Underkeepers would get the hostile attention of the entire Alchemists¡¯ Guild, throughout the entire realm. That was a conflict they did not want.


    Ed had given Bernt a minimum price to take from Theresa, but he hadn¡¯t given him an upper limit. Most likely, he assumed Theresa would have little trouble in haggling him down. But Bernt wasn¡¯t about to let her take control of the conversation like this.


    She was still lowballing him, trying to make him think in terms of the castrum roots. Implicit in this negotiation was a threat to the alchemists¡¯ exclusivity rights in the city. That was worth far more than any amount of castrum root. Now that he was confronted with the moment of truth, though, he wasn¡¯t sure how to counter.


    He hesitated, then decided to go high.


    ¡°We understand that this is a difficult time,¡± he said, gesturing around him, at the city in general. ¡°In acknowledgment of your financial difficulties, the archmage permitted me to offer you a price of 1500 gold marks along with a three-month payment plan.¡±


    Theresa snorted. ¡°Your arrogance is going to get you into trouble sooner or later, young Underkeeper. I¡¯ve made you a very generous offer. Giving me condescension in return is¡­ ungrateful.¡±


    His rage slipped its leash. It was her tone more than her words that did it. For weeks, Bernt¡¯s life had been defined by fear, frustration and desperation. And all the while, the Alchemists¡¯ Guild had been there to make his life just that much more complicated, frustrating, and terrifying. Before he knew what he was doing, he¡¯d taken a step toward her, right up to her desk.


    ¡°Ungrateful?!¡± he hissed. ¡°You sabotaged city infrastructure for weeks and you poisoned me! And you did it because I wrote a routine dumping citation for an absolute asshole of an alchemist. The slimes that he spawned clogged the pipes of twenty-three homes and seriously injured several adventurers! And he did it to save a couple of silver! You¡¯re lucky that we¡¯re offering you a deal at all! We could have just destroyed the damned roots!¡±


    Theresa was leaning back now, eyes exaggeratedly wide in mock surprise. Then she leaned forward and clucked at him in a motherly fashion.


    ¡°Oh dear. Do you need me to wait a moment for you to calm down?¡± She watched him for a moment as he gathered himself. ¡°I know just as well as you or your boss that you aren¡¯t actually going to squeeze us out of the city. The Underkeepers have martial responsibilities now, and you can¡¯t afford to rely on random unlicensed alchemists to supply you with potions and elixirs any more than the military or any of the guilds can. Give me a reasonable offer or get the hells out of my shop.¡±


    Bernt swallowed. He¡¯d screwed it up. By losing his temper, he¡¯d given up control of the conversation¡ªwhich he¡¯d only arguably had in the first place. Now she¡¯d called him out and given him an ultimatum.


    He needed to give her a deal she would take. But if he just dropped the price now, he would look like a coward as well as an idiot.


    But¡­ this was exactly why Ed had given him that safe, minimum price. It was designed to be palatable to the alchemists while still ensuring that the Underkeepers¡¯ point was made.


    He opened his mouth to propose it, but then closed it again as a thought struck him. A new idea. This could work. Better yet, he might be able to take two birds with one stone.


    ¡°Well?¡± Theresa glared at him. ¡°You look like a fish. What is it?¡±


    Bernt smiled, regaining his composure.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, of course,¡± he said, doing his best to sound gracious. ¡°I can offer you a more reasonable price¡ªI can take off another five hundred gold marks in exchange for just one tiny favor¡­¡±


    It was still a lot of money. More, in fact, than Bernt had earned in his entire working life so far, and even a little more than Ed¡¯s minimum. But, while it was a very steep fine, it wouldn¡¯t actually put the guild in a tight spot. Theresa could probably pay it out of her own pocket, if she had to.


    Seeing her expression, Bernt thought she would decline and throw him out. But despite her sour face, she didn¡¯t.


    ¡°What kind of favor, exactly?¡±

 44. Relationship Management

    ¡°Your failure yesterday cost us nearly forty guards and over two hundred civilians¡ªnever mind the property damage!¡± General Arice accused. Ed stood in front of a large table, where the general sat alongside Count Narald, Lord Magistrate Gerold and Guard Commander Righmond. The commander nodded along enthusiastically with the general, probably hoping to distract from his own total lack of action in the battle yesterday. Iriala sat in a chair off to the side, which made Ed wonder what she had done to get herself invited to this meeting. ¡°If we hadn¡¯t arrived when we did, the entire city might have burned down.¡±


    It was essentially what he¡¯d expected. The royal prick was trying to roll the consequences of his own mistakes onto him.


    ¡°Now, listen here,¡± you pompous asshat, Ed didn¡¯t add. Who said he couldn¡¯t be diplomatic? ¡°The only reason we were spread so thin in the first place was because you insisted that we keep all twelve breaches open, and then at least that many again opened up all over the city as we fought. We were lucky to make it as long as we did with barely 250 people, most of whom were ordinary guards. We wouldn¡¯t have, if several people who weren¡¯t obligated in this matter at all hadn¡¯t stepped up to help. We wouldn¡¯t have even found them all.¡±


    The general scoffed.


    ¡°They were kobolds!¡± Arice exclaimed, as though that excused everything.


    The magistrate looked pained, while the count¡¯s expression was resigned more than anything. They knew exactly what had happened, and whose fault it was. But they weren¡¯t going to do anything to help. They needed the army, and they couldn¡¯t afford to piss off the king¡¯s cousin, besides. Ed, on the other hand, was possibly the most officially discredited archmage in the entire realm. He wasn¡¯t a political type, but even he could see that tossing him under the cart here was the only smart play.


    But that didn¡¯t mean he had to be gracious about it.


    ¡°They¡¯re not just kobolds.¡± He didn¡¯t bother to keep his tone respectful, though he stopped short of insulting. He wasn¡¯t in the military anymore, but he wasn¡¯t an idiot, either. ¡°They have the backing of an elder dragon. You should know not to underestimate an enemy like that.¡±


    The general¡¯s glare could have soured milk.


    ¡°Your incompetence has turned this into a disaster!¡± he insisted. ¡°The king has probably already heard about it. Now we¡¯ll be forced to commit our entire force and dig those filthy little creatures out. It¡¯s going to take months! We have more important business to be about than cleaning vermin out from under your city!¡± He was breathing hard, jaw clenching in anger. To Ed it looked like he was about to start foaming at the mouth.


    Ed, though, was paying more attention to the words coming out of the man¡¯s fool mouth.


    ¡°Wait¡­ you thought you were just going to send in a division to kick the kobolds in the teeth for a few days and move on?¡± He stopped, eyebrows rising in surprise as he answered his own question. ¡°Ah. You think the Adventurers¡¯ Guild is lying. That there is no dragon at all and practically every mid-ranked adventurer in this city and most of our high-rankers just¡­ died to random kobolds.¡±


    At that, both the count and the magistrate turned to look at the general in evident confusion.


    Arice rolled his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that, old man. You know just as well as I do that it wouldn¡¯t be the first time.¡±


    Iriala cleared her throat.


    ¡°I notice that you haven¡¯t chosen to voice this¡­ opinion in the presence of Branchmaster Ambrose¡ªI expect he would have his own thoughts to share with you in turn,¡± she said evenly, though her eyes glittered. ¡°More pertinently, are you similarly accusing myself and the scryers of the Mages¡¯ Guild, then? The tunnel complex was designated as a dungeon specifically because of the presence of a dragon.¡±


    The general¡¯s lips pressed together into a line, and for a moment Ed thought the damned fool would actually double down. But directly slandering Count Narald¡¯s court mage and the head of the local Mages¡¯ Guild would be very different than just dismissing a report from the Adventurers¡¯ Guild, especially when the latter were just passing on the reports of some of their politically irrelevant members.


    Arice coughed. ¡°Hm. No. Of course there may well have been a young dragon, just as you and your scryers detected. However, that still means the threat from below is greatly exaggerated. You all saw how quickly the attackers broke when faced with a proper defense.¡±


    Iriala inclined her head at him, and then turned her face away, though Ed caught her just barely rolling her eyes. The royal windbag, fortunately, wasn¡¯t looking. Ed sighed to himself, silently counting to ten in his head as he recalled all the reasons it would be a terrible idea to lose his temper in this situation.


    ¡°Time will tell,¡± he said, almost diplomatically. ¡°You¡¯re going down there to root them out now regardless, so there¡¯s no need for all this back-and-forth. We¡¯ll all know the details in a few days, at the latest.¡±


    General Arice huffed in feigned amusement. ¡°We will be going down there¡ªyou included. I¡¯m not letting you or the adventurers off so easy. You have a duty to this city! Besides, I want everyone who¡¯s been in the tunnels before guiding my troops.¡± He fixed Ed with a hard stare. ¡°After all, I wouldn¡¯t want to underestimate the enemy.¡±


    Ed grunted in acknowledgement, but didn¡¯t say anything. Maybe he should have just kept his fool mouth shut, like Righmond over there. The guard commander hadn¡¯t said a word the entire meeting. That asshole would have been strung up for cowardice in the army. Here, he was going to walk away clean, because he kept his head down and he hadn¡¯t been in charge of the defense. But there was no point in dwelling on it. Pointing fingers at the damn coward could only make this worse now.


    ***


    On his way out, Ed noticed that the guards, unlike the last time he¡¯d been here, were courteous. One even gave him a nod and opened a door for him as he left the castle. He¡¯d just started down the street when Iriala caught up to him.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have argued with him,¡± she said by way of greeting, joining him as he walked past the guard headquarters into the temple district. ¡°There was nothing to gain. The facts are going to come out as soon as they go in, regardless. And people like that always find a way to get back at you.¡±


    Ed shrugged, scowling. ¡°I had to say something. An honest mistake is one thing. Even just being too risk-tolerant¡­ I can live with that, maybe. Arice back there, though¡­ He got people killed and then tried to pretend he had nothing to do with it. I can¡¯t just let that go.¡±


    Iriala shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s just it. You¡¯re not the one responsible for him. He¡¯s perfectly capable of exposing his own incompetence to the world without your help.¡±


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    ¡°Alright, alright. There¡¯s a reason you¡¯re the politician and I¡¯m a glorified wastewater manager, I know.¡± He waved his hand, discarding the topic. ¡°I¡¯ve actually got another weird situation on my hands, and I was hoping you might help me out. Actually, it sort of affects you too, though I guess in your case it¡¯s a little less direct.¡±


    ¡°Oh? I¡¯m going to have to start charging you,¡± she teased. ¡°You don¡¯t think I have better things to do than to dig you out of trouble all the time?¡±


    ¡°Iri!¡± Ed said, with feigned outrage. ¡°We¡¯ve been friends for what, twenty years? Friends don¡¯t keep score.¡± He reached into his pocket and pulled out the papers Bernt had given him from the Solicitors, handing them over. ¡°Take a look.¡±


    Snorting, she took the papers and began reading through them. Ed didn¡¯t explain¡ªshe¡¯d ask if she wanted his opinion. Instead, he led her down a street to the right, toward the lower administrative zone, where it met the Upper District.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± she said after a minute or so of walking. ¡°They¡¯re certainly up to something.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Ed said. ¡°I got that much. But what? And why?¡±


    Iriala shrugged. ¡°Letting that little imp stick around under a guarantor is¡­ well, I¡¯ve never heard of it before. It must be based on a pretty obscure law. More importantly, I can¡¯t think of any way that it would be good for the Solicitors. Any demon that¡¯s outside of their control is bad for them. If it goes well, it undermines their monopoly on managing extradimensional entities. And if it goes badly, most of the public will probably still blame them for it. The clause about you publicly taking responsibility is supposed to help with that, but who actually pays attention to every announcement and flier that gets put up? It would rope us in, sure, but it doesn¡¯t really help them at all.¡±


    Ed nodded. ¡°So, if Radast dug it up just for us¡ªor Bernt, or Jori for that matter¡ªthen we should probably find out why before we do anything else.¡±


    ¡°Well, well. He can be taught.¡± Iriala smiled. They¡¯d stopped, and she looked up at the ornate and entirely doorless facade of the Solicitors¡¯ offices. ¡°And¡­ I assume you want me to help with that, too?¡±


    Ed shrugged as he led her around the side, where he found an unmarked door¡ªit looked like a servant¡¯s entrance, but he knew it was the only way in or out of the building. ¡°I don¡¯t like guessing. So, I figured we should just ask him. But¡­ I was hoping you¡¯d do the talking. I assume you can¡¯t just, uh, see the answer.¡±


    The archmage shook her head. ¡°No, I can¡¯t scry him at all, or the building in general, actually. Radast is pacted to something nasty from the fifth hell¡ªshadow-type creatures resist divination. ¡°


    ¡°It was worth asking,¡± Ed grumbled. He knocked on the door.


    ***


    Radast, as it turned out, was a youngish man in his late thirties. Ed assumed he must be pretty formidable to run this branch of their organization. Still, his relative youth showed, in his opinion. He surrounded himself with expensive trinkets and dressed like a peacock. But, Ed allowed, maybe he was just being uncharitable. The entire Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters could probably fit inside this one room, and he couldn¡¯t deny a twinge of jealousy at that. The Solicitors were regarded far more poorly than the Underkeepers, but they enjoyed a much nicer work environment.


    ¡°Archmages Thurdred and Iriala to see you,¡± said the charming young woman who had brought them up.


    ¡°Wonderful! Thank you,¡± said the warlock in a confident baritone. He waved her off, and a moment later they were alone.


    ¡°How can I help you?¡± he asked. ¡°We don¡¯t often get visitors here. Would you like something to drink?¡±


    Iriala smiled professionally. ¡°Thank you, no. We don¡¯t want to take up too much of your time. We just wanted to get some clarity on this¡­ offer here,¡± she said, holding up the papers. ¡°Guarantorship. I¡¯ve never heard of it before, and as far as I can tell, it¡¯s nothing but an unnecessary risk for your organization¡ªso¡­ why offer it to a random imp?¡±


    As they spoke, Iriala¡¯s eyes stayed locked to Radast¡¯s face, taking in his reaction. Ed tried to follow her example, though he spared a glance for the man¡¯s weirdly moving shadow as well.


    An imp was one thing. It was almost a normal creature, if a bit too amoral for normal society. As you went to the lower hells, though, demons became more and more alien in nature. This shadow-thing made his skin crawl.


    ¡°Ah.¡± The warlock scratched at his short beard in apparent embarrassment. ¡°Well. We did our research on the young Underkeeper as soon as we heard of him. His profile suggested that he¡¯s too idealistic to form a pact, which is fine, normally. We would just deport the imp and send him on his way. But¡­ he¡¯s also obviously emotionally attached to the imp, which is both unusual and a more serious problem.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± Ed asked before he remembered that he was going to let Iri do the talking. Oops.


    ¡°Well¡­ it¡¯s complicated. Both he and the imp have gained a bit of notoriety since the debacle in the dungeon a few days ago. If we deported her against his will, he could potentially cause problems for us. Arbitrating looting rights for adventurers and between adventuring parties is a large part of our business¡± ¡ªhe glanced over at Iriala¡ª¡°not to mention our work with the Mages¡¯ Guild.¡±


    Iriala narrowed her eyes. ¡°Why would we¡­¡± She snorted. ¡°No. I mean, I¡¯m sure that was part of it, but if you made exceptions like this every time you were worried about potentially upsetting a client or losing a contract, guarantorship would be common in every city in the realm. Come on¡ªout with it. It¡¯s just us here.¡±


    Radast frowned, studying them for a moment. Then he pursed his lips and looked away.


    ¡°There¡¯s something going on down below the city,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure exactly what it is, but there are a lot of demons moving around down there. My shadow fiend can sense them.¡±


    Ed blinked, then looked over at Iriala and met her eyes. She shrugged.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± she asked. ¡°You mean that dragon is down there summoning a demon army to throw at us? Why haven¡¯t you told anyone?¡±


    The warlock¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What? No! Dragons don¡¯t deal in ritual magic. That¡¯s ridiculous! No. This is something else. Bigger. Maybe something that could rival the shattering of the Madurian Empire. As for why I can¡¯t tell anyone¡­¡± His expression turned bitter. ¡°I did. I¡¯ve been writing letters¡ªfirst to the count, and then to the king directly for over a year. I got responses telling me that hearsay from a demon wasn¡¯t worth their time. They probably think I¡¯m angling for influence, or maybe an official guild charter for the Solicitors.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ are you?¡± Iriala asked mildly.


    Radast scoffed with disgust. ¡°Of course I am! But that has nothing to do with it. We aren¡¯t exactly well-loved, and when our armies start fighting hordes of mad warlocks, we¡¯re going to have mobs of low-browed pitchfork-wielding farmers out there looking for our door. And every noble from here to the Giant Wastes will seize the opportunity to throw us under the cart as a way to distract from their own shortcomings. I would like to avoid that, but for that we need political allies, and we need to improve our public relations.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Iriala said, a small smirk cracking her expression. ¡°And there¡¯s a new player here in Halfbridge who suddenly became politically consequential. You figured you¡¯d give the public a nice, small, relatively innocuous-looking demon to root for¡ªideally one that was actively defending the city. Jori is the best candidate. She¡¯s already saved practically the entire surviving Adventurers¡¯ Guild branch here. For that matter, I¡¯m sure people saw her fighting kobolds with me yesterday. And if either of us acts as an official guarantor for her, you get the implied support of both the Underkeepers and the Mages¡¯ Guild, since we¡¯ve all been seen working with her.¡±


    ¡°Ideally your young Underkeeper would just form a pact with the imp,¡± Radast said to Ed. ¡°But I knew it was a long shot before he even got here, so I prepared an alternative. As far as I know, guarantorship has never actually been used, but it¡¯s very much aboveboard. It¡¯s based on an amendment to the agreement that formed the Solicitors in the first place, over two hundred years ago¡ªat the request of the Mages¡¯ Guild, incidentally, for research purposes.


    ¡°One can hope that the young man will¡­ mature in time and form a proper pact. If not, the demon can still be deported at a later date¡ªespecially as I hear you can directly track and observe the demon at will. She won¡¯t present a serious risk unless she evolves at least once more, though honestly even a class 4 demon isn¡¯t a match for any archmage. Even in the middle of a war, that will take years¡ªmuch longer than we need.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Iriala said. ¡°And what exactly would you be willing to offer us in exchange for our support?¡±

 45. Investment

    Bernt held the vial up to his face as he walked, admiring the drop of burning rain inside. It wasn¡¯t just the bit of burning liquid he¡¯d expected. No, it formed a sort of smoky mist that swirled lazily inside the container for a few seconds, then condensed into a single, gravity-defying golden droplet that hung there for a moment before bursting into brilliant flame. When the light dimmed, it left nothing but swirling mist behind, ready to begin the cycle again.


    At that moment, it was the most beautiful thing he¡¯d ever seen in his life. On a rational level, he knew it wasn¡¯t that valuable of an alchemical material. But to finally be holding it in his hand like this after being stymied again and again felt like an incredible achievement.


    He was so distracted he didn¡¯t even realize Jori was at the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters until he walked inside and found her standing on a chair, talking excitedly to Ed.


    She was clutching a sheaf of papers, practically gushing with a mixture of pride, relief and gratitude.


    ¡°Bernt!¡± she called out as he came in, waving the papers above her head with a rustling sound. ¡°I have the papers! The Great Ones signed them! Not just Ed, both of them!¡±


    Bernt stopped, surprised. That was good. But¡­ why now? Ed had sounded more suspicious than enthusiastic last night, even if he had clearly been more positively inclined toward Jori since the battle.


    ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± he said, before he turned to Ed. ¡°Thank you¡ªI¡¯m glad we won¡¯t have to look over our shoulders anymore.¡± Then, trying to sound casual, he added, ¡°Did you find out why the Solicitors offered the guarantorship?¡±


    Ed nodded. ¡°I did. Iri and I went and had a talk with that Radast guy. It was sort of what we thought¡ªhe¡¯s playing games. But¡­ it wasn¡¯t anything too nefarious. Not for a warlock, I mean. Turns out we¡¯re doing him a favor with this, and we¡¯re going to get a little something extra for our trouble. Nothing for you to worry about just yet. Tell me what happened with the Alchemists¡¯ Guild.¡±


    Bernt took a seat and started talking, relating the conversation as best he could remember. At the end, he brought out the vial and held it up for Ed to see.


    ¡°She said they would send someone by the office with payment and to pick up the castrum root within the hour.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± Ed said, looking at the vial of burning rain with a raised eyebrow. ¡°That was quick thinking at the end there. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but you let her feel like she was getting the better of you without looking like you were running off with your tail between your legs. It¡¯s good work, considering that it¡¯s your first time doing this kind of thing. I¡¯ll be taking the price of that reagent out of your pay, though. You negotiated for it on my behalf, after all.¡±


    That was better than fair. Bernt smiled and his chest swelled with pride. ¡°And now I can finally attempt my first investiture!¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s about time,¡± Ed said seriously. ¡°You ready?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ now?¡± Bernt froze. He¡¯d meant to review the procedure again from the book before attempting it at home tonight. ¡°I know how¡­ but I was going to¡ª¡± Ed raised a hand to cut him off.


    ¡°You should just do it now, assuming that you¡¯ve looked over the procedure for the droplet. You don¡¯t have time to wait around¡ªlife comes at you fast. And you¡¯re going down into the dungeon tomorrow, general¡¯s order,¡± he said, tone brooking no argument. ¡°The investment process isn¡¯t easy, but it¡¯s not complicated either¡ªnot your first investiture, anyway. And this way I can keep an eye on you and stop you if you screw it up before you get too far into it.¡±


    Bernt swallowed and glanced over at Jori. She was leaning forward eagerly, staring at the vial lighting up with incandescent flame.


    It was as good a time as any, he supposed. Nobody else was here to distract him, and there was more room to work with in here than at home. Not that he needed a lot of room¡­ but still.


    ¡°Do you have a bit of chalk?¡± Ed tossed a stick toward him before he even finished the question, and Bernt twisted to catch it with his one free hand.


    Bending down, he slowly drew out the same rune circle he¡¯d used to analyze Jori¡¯s blood a few days before. This time, though, he was far more careful. It probably wouldn¡¯t make a difference¡ªbut this wasn¡¯t the sort of thing you cut corners on. Ed watched in total silence, letting him work. Jori, for her part, seemed to be carefully reading the contract Ed and Iriala had signed for her. Bernt didn¡¯t let it distract him, focusing exclusively on the task in front of him.


    Finishing the circle, Bernt held out the vial, waiting for the vapor inside it to condense back into its liquid form. He didn¡¯t know what would happen if he poured it out at the wrong moment.


    When the time came, he lifted the glass stopper and flipped the container upside down. The droplet floated inside for a moment, and Bernt worried it wouldn¡¯t come out. How had they put it in there in the first place?


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    Just then, the droplet burst into flame and fell straight down into the circle, where it rapidly unraveled into a complex, three-dimensional pattern of mana flows. Bernt examined the pattern, trying to find a natural ¡°beginning¡± to the spellform. It didn¡¯t matter where he started¡ªas long as the spot made sense to him. He found the ignition rune, what he considered the heart of any fire spell, and focused on the top left point, where he would begin the first stroke if he were drawing it out.


    Then he reached out a hand and pushed his own spirit. In actuality, he was moving mana around, just as he did when he cast a spell. But instead of channeling it out of his spirit and shaping it into a spellform, he just¡­ pushed on it. The result was a thread of silvery light that emerged from his finger.


    Now came the hard part. Concentrating, he split that thread down its length and, holding one steady, started threading one half into the spellform suspended over the rune circle. Of course, it wasn¡¯t quite that simple. The mana of the burning rain wouldn¡¯t interact with his spirit until he allowed it to¡ªand he needed to avoid doing that until he¡¯d shaped his spirit to match the spellform perfectly.


    Blocking out everything else, Bernt pushed more mana into that thread, carefully guiding and shaping it as it grew through familiar runes, unfamiliar symbols and seemingly random loops and patterns. It took nearly twenty minutes of intense concentration, and sweat was beading on his forehead by the time he finished. When the thread emerged from the spellform again, he connected the thread to the second one, which he¡¯d been holding still, and formed a loop that led back into the rest of his spirit.


    A cramp was forming in the back of his neck now, but he did his best to ignore it. There was still one more step to go. Being careful not to mess up any of the smaller patterns, Bernt began to tweak the overall shape of the spellform according to the instructions for the architecture he was pursuing. For now, this wouldn¡¯t actually do anything¡ªbut this shape would ultimately allow him to properly attach the second and third investitures and form a proper augmentation. Finally, he looked up.


    ¡°Ed?¡± he said, and the archmage stepped forward, examining his work. He moved around it in a circle, examining it from different angles until, what felt like an eternity later, he nodded.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got it. Go ahead.¡±


    Taking a slow breath, Bernt did something he¡¯d never, ever done in his life. He opened his spirit to foreign influence with an effort of will, and then reached out and smudged one of the runes in the circle.


    The spellform tried to collapse back into its original form, but it was stopped by his thread of spirit. He felt an uncomfortable pressure and nearly panicked before he remembered what to do. With another simple effort of will, he made the still mana inside his spirit spin. It began to flow through the thread and the entire spellform. Within seconds, his spirit absorbed the original substance of the burning rain, leaving only his own spirit in the shape of its spellform.


    ¡°There it is!¡± Ed said. ¡°You can relax, that¡¯s it.¡±


    Bernt did, releasing his spirit and allowing it to pull back into him. The spellform didn¡¯t unravel, but he could see it shrink down and somehow fold as it snapped into his body. How strange.


    ¡°Congratulations!¡± Ed clapped him on the back, smiling broadly. ¡°You can add a stripe to your robes if you want.¡±


    Bernt smiled back uncertainly, rubbing at his still-twitching neck. He¡¯d never seen Ed smile before. Not like this, anyway. It was disconcerting. Not bad or anything, just¡­ not normal.


    ¡°Go on, try it out!¡± the archmage said. His expression returned to something more neutral, but still far from his customary scowl.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure how. Do I just run mana through the spellform in my spirit before casting a normal spell?¡±


    That wasn¡¯t quite true. Bernt had been taught exactly how it worked¡ªthere were diagrams and everything. But¡­ well, the explanation he¡¯d gotten at the academy didn¡¯t match up with what it felt like.


    ¡°Do I just run mana through the spellform in my spirit before casting a normal spell?¡± he asked. That was what he¡¯d been taught, but he felt his mana running through the spellform now, so how was he supposed to activate it?


    Ed shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s sort of how it works, I guess. But you don¡¯t need to consciously do any of that. You should make a habit of always keeping your mana in motion. When you have more investitures and entire augmentations, you¡¯ll have to be mindful of where in your network you draw mana for different spells. Right now, anywhere will do.¡±


    Nodding, Bernt held up his hand and sketched a pattern in the air to cast his torch spell. He wanted to do it without his focus for now¡ªjust to make sure it wasn¡¯t influencing the spell.


    Unlike the usual bright flame, a liquid-looking orb of roiling flames formed over his right shoulder. It was very bright and the light was steadier than his old torch spell. Incredible!


    ¡°Wow!¡± he said. ¡°I wonder what it did to my fireball.¡± Or his fire dart? Bernt itched to start experimenting, but¡­ he was at work right now.


    ¡°Thanks for your help,¡± he said. He really did owe Ed for this¡ªhe¡¯d have to find a way to pay him back. The old man had done both him and Jori a very big favor today. ¡°So, should I get going on my rounds?¡±


    Maybe he could sneak in a bit of practice in the sewers. Probably not, though. There were still soldiers running around down there.


    Ed snorted. ¡°No, you¡¯re not working today. You should go outside the city and find a nice, barren patch of dirt to practice on. You¡¯ll need to work out how not to use that investiture. You won¡¯t be able to cast any normal cantrips without setting them on fire until you do, and you¡¯ll be practically useless as a mage until then.¡±


    Bernt carefully did not smile in excitement. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll get right on it.¡±


    He turned toward the door, signaling Jori to come along through their familiar bond. She hopped down from the chair to follow, but Ed stopped her.


    ¡°No, not you. You¡¯re going to work with Dayle down at the main breach today¡ªI want you to spend a little time working with all of the Underkeepers before we get our new¡­ support from the Solicitors. It¡¯s part of the deal.¡±

 46. Adjustment

    Bernt gripped at the wand in his sleeve, struggling to keep himself from casting any spells as he made his way toward the gate. It would be irresponsible¡ªnot to mention rude¡ªto start casting fire magic on a crowded public street. He had the perfect spot to practice down near the river: a rocky beach with nothing but a bit of wet grass to burn. While the spells wouldn¡¯t be inherently more powerful yet, not without a complete augmentation, the way they manifested and their utility would be different. He knew what to expect from the architecture notes, but he¡¯d learned years ago not to rely on theory over practice if he could help it.


    Besides, he was still a bit sore from yesterday. He needed to keep it small and deliberate. Nothing flashy, and not too many spells. He needed to make each one count to learn as much as he could without slowing his recovery.


    Bernt approached the gate and moved to step through when a guard held up a hand, palm out. He had an ugly bruise running down one side of his face¡ªno one had come through yesterday without some kind of mark on them.


    ¡°Underkeeper,¡± the man said, his tone firm, but far more respectful than he¡¯d ever heard from a guard before yesterday. ¡°Orders from the general are that everyone who¡¯s been inside the dungeon is required to assemble at the main breach at their earliest convenience. They want you to support the soldiers as they push down into the tunnels.¡±


    Bernt¡¯s excitement wilted. Ed had said he wouldn¡¯t be sent down until tomorrow!


    He thought about lying and telling the man he hadn¡¯t been inside. But¡­ there was no point. Someone would recognize him sooner or later. He also wouldn¡¯t be surprised if all of the Underkeepers had been sent down¡ªthey¡¯d been running the defense, after all.


    Maybe the truth would work.


    ¡°I injured my mana network in the battle yesterday.¡± He tried to sound steady, but even he could hear the desperation underlying his tone. ¡°I¡¯m not fit to fight. They can¡¯t expect us to dive in there right after a battle like this!¡±


    The man shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s orders. So far as I understand it, they don¡¯t want you for fighting¡ªit¡¯s just to show them around. I don¡¯t know if they¡¯re even going in today.¡±


    Bernt¡¯s jaw clenched. This seemed¡­ weird. Why round them up like this right now? Moreover, the orders had to be very recent, or Ed would have known about them already. Wouldn¡¯t he?


    ¡°Look. I just got a new pyromancy investiture. That means my spells aren¡¯t going to do what I¡¯m used to. So, the first time a mob of kobolds run at us, I have to either let them cut me down or risk setting fire to our own people. I need to go through that gate to at least try out a handful of spells, so I know what I¡¯m working with.¡±


    The guard looked over his shoulder, out the gate.


    ¡°Is that why you wanted to get outside the walls?¡±


    Bernt nodded, and the guard grimaced.


    ¡°I can¡¯t let you leave¡ªIt¡¯s not up to me, really. It could be considered dereliction of duty¡­ But you just need an open space that won¡¯t burn, right?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Bernt said. A little spark of hope ignited in his chest.


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m just going to have Kane over there lead you up to the top of the wall. It¡¯s all stone. You should be able to avoid burning anything there. I can give you a couple of minutes, but if any soldiers come by, we need to escort you down there immediately. You understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Bernt said quickly. ¡°That¡¯ll work great, thanks. Which way?¡±


    Moments later, a lanky young guard, still more of a boy than a man, led Bernt into the gatehouse and up a set of stairs that led onto the wide rampart.


    ¡°You can cast magic fire?¡± Kane asked with wide eyes. ¡°Like fireballs and stuff? I thought Underkeepers didn¡¯t do that kind of thing. My dad always said you guys were the dregs!¡±


    Bernt snorted, feeling a little offended on behalf of his colleagues. ¡°Your dad doesn¡¯t know everything. Make sure you stay back here by the door. I have to adjust my spellcasting.¡±


    Leaving his wand tucked securely up his sleeve for now, Bernt raised his hands and began writing the extremely familiar spellform for a fire dart out in front of him. He could cast one of these almost instantly when using his wand¡ªthe focus condensed mana and made it easier to shape as he cast. It took a bit longer without using a focus, but he figured this would give him a more¡­ direct feel for what had changed. Even so, he only actually drew the primary runes in the air with his fingers, willing the rest of the spellform into being directly through his spirit before casting it straight into the nearest merlon.


    The dart looked the same at first¡ªa dense little sliver of fire. But when it struck, it didn¡¯t just burn itself out on the stone. Instead, the spell splashed, spattering burning plasma out from the point of impact that stuck and dribbled down all around it, leaving behind a hundred tiny scorch marks before winking out.


    Well. That was different. He could guess what would happen with a fireball. His fire spells had just become a lot more dangerous¡ªnot to mention messier. How was he supposed to use this in close quarters, or with any allies around?


    Bernt would need to find some new fire spells, or maybe modify some he already knew. He¡¯d need to think about it later. The current priority was to figure out all he could about how his magic had been affected. He found a bucket and a rag someone had left sitting next to the door. Kane watched him dubiously as he grabbed the damp rag, but Bernt didn¡¯t explain.


    Holding it in his right hand, he used his left to cast a duplication cantrip. Then he yelped and dropped the rag on the ground. Or rather, rags¡ªtwo of them. They looked identical, but Bernt knew the amount of material used for both objects hadn¡¯t changed. The spell had worked, sort of. What was different was that both of them were scaldingly hot and smoldering at the edges.


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    Confused, Bernt stared at them for a moment. He started casting the spell again, but stopped just before the spellform completed. He needed a better idea of what he was actually casting.


    Sure enough, the spellform manifesting in front of him was wrong. Yes, everything that he¡¯d drawn in himself, and all of the details that he¡¯d willed in on purpose, were there. But he¡¯d also somehow included several bits of the spellform from his investiture. Not the entire thing, just a few aspects of it, as if his spirit or the spell itself automatically added in all the parts that ¡°fit.¡±


    To test his theory, he grabbed one of the rags and tossed it toward the wall, casting an adhesion cantrip as quickly as he could. The rag stuck to the stone, steaming at first. A moment later, it glowed with heat as it disintegrated. Duplication would have weakened the material quite a bit, so it probably burned faster than it normally would have.


    Still, this meant his regular glue spell might now have some combat applications¡­


    Then again, Bernt admitted grudgingly to himself, if he¡¯d been more creative, maybe it could have been useful for fighting before. Heat prickled down his back in sudden embarrassment at the thought. How could the other cantrips and basic spells he knew come in handy in a fight? And why hadn¡¯t he considered this before?


    Sure, war mages didn¡¯t concern themselves with minor spells, because they usually worked together and on a grand scale. They fought armies, not individuals¡ªand his education as a pyromancer was meant to prepare him for the military, not adventuring. Adventurers had to react quickly and flexibly to changing situations and to the actions of a single enemy. He couldn¡¯t afford to not know how to use all his skills to their fullest potential, and he didn¡¯t have the experience to just¡­ do it right. He would have to talk to someone with real experience and ask for help.


    The thought made his stomach flip, but he suppressed it. If he¡¯d asked for help sooner, or just accepted what was offered, he might have avoided a lot of the suffering he¡¯d gone through in the past few weeks. He wouldn¡¯t even be in the position he was in now if he hadn¡¯t let Ed finally push him into accepting some support, both for himself and Jori. But he had a little time, at least.


    Right now, he was working on controlling his investment, and he could do that on his own. A burning adhesion cantrip was neat, but he needed it to work normally. Reaching down and grabbing the other rag, he then cast the spell again, stopping before he actually manifested the spell to examine his work. Just like last time, there were several parts of the spellform that just didn¡¯t belong. They¡¯d simply manifested into the spell through his spirit. With an effort of will, he stripped the foreign bits out of the spell and released the rag, tossing it up next to the first. It stuck there, just as it was supposed to.


    Of course, Bernt had technically learned what an investment was supposed to do back at the academy. What the investiture did was to ¡°invest¡± him with an instinctual control over the arcane aspects of the material used. Several of his textbooks had covered the topic in detail¡ªbut those were written in such an abstruse manner that he only now really understood it. In practical terms, all of his spells would be supplemented with appropriate bits of his investiture¡¯s spellform. To cast spells normally from now on, he would have to manually strip out those aspects. A full augmentation was supposed to make this even more difficult, which led most mages to pursue ever greater specialization as they advanced.


    Bernt was about to try to cast a basic aeromancy spell when he was interrupted by a polite cough. Looking over, he saw the guard he¡¯d spoken to earlier standing next to Kane.


    ¡°Soldiers are coming through¡ªtime¡¯s up. You should get over to the main breach before someone asks questions about the Underkeeper on the wall.¡±


    Bernt did his best to give the man a smile and nodded. The man had done his best, and it wasn¡¯t his fault.


    ¡°Sure,¡± he said. ¡°Thanks for covering for me.¡±


    ***


    Jori had no difficulty getting to the main breach, but she ran into a problem once she arrived. Ed had told her Dayle would be here at the breach with the soldiers, but he was nowhere in sight. Even when she climbed up the back of one of the buildings and onto the roof for a better vantage, she couldn¡¯t see anyone in gray robes¡ªjust uniformed soldiers, as well as quite a few adventurers in their more individualized gear. Judging by the faint echoes coming from down in the tunnel, she guessed he was already inside. Someone was fighting in there, at least.


    But if she wanted to go look, she would have to get past the soldiers who were guarding the tunnel. She didn¡¯t especially want to try just walking in¡ªat least not without anyone to vouch for her. So, Jori decided to wait for a few minutes. There were still a lot of people massing here, maybe another Underkeeper would arrive, or maybe Iriala. Worst case, she would have to go back to Ed and see if he could get her in safely.


    As she watched, Jori noticed the soldiers were split into groups that stood in ranks, waiting to be sent in. Each group looked a little bit different, though. One group held spears, another had one-handed axes and shields. A small team of ten soldiers carried massive identical runed hammers. There were mages, too, wearing different-colored bits of cloth around their arms. She hadn¡¯t watched the fight here personally last time, but Bernt had been right there¡ªshe¡¯d had a good look through him and recognized the geomancers wearing brown.


    Unlike the soldiers, the adventurers milled around, chatting animatedly with one another. They didn¡¯t all look like they wanted to be there. A few were arguing, and more than one tried to turn around and slink away. They didn¡¯t make it very far, though. The soldiers guarding the perimeter always intercepted them and turned them back politely but firmly. One adventurer stood out from the others. He was just¡­ huge. Not overly tall, really¡ªjust too wide for a normal person. Unnaturally wide.


    Jori¡¯s eyes widened. He was too wide because he wasn¡¯t a human! It was Furin! Eagerly, she craned her neck, and was rewarded with the sight of Elyn standing next to him. A moment later, she thought she also caught a glimpse of Therion¡¯s face in the crowd.


    They could get her inside! In fact, several of the adventurers would probably recognize her. Trying not to think about what might happen if the soldiers took a hostile interest in her before she reached someone familiar, Jori scrambled down the outside of the house toward an empty alley with the unnatural agility of a spider. She peered around the corner to make sure nobody was looking right at her, and then walked briskly over to the adventurers. While she wanted to run as fast as she could, she knew it would draw more attention if she did¡ªbesides, it might provoke a less friendly response from the adventurers themselves.


    There was a shout somewhere behind her, but she¡¯d already made it, nodding toward a dwarf adventurer who gawked at her as she passed. He hesitated for a moment, but then nodded back.


    It was working!


    Unable to help herself, she snuck a glance over her shoulder. A perimeter guard was staring at her, a spear held in both hands, but he hadn¡¯t lowered it. No one was coming her way¡ªthe guard was apparently taking his cue from the lack of response she¡¯d received from the adventurers.


    With a quiet sigh of relief, Jori pushed on, quickly finding Furin and the rest of Bernt¡¯s party all assembled.


    ¡°Hello!¡± she called out, walking up to them and waving energetically.


    Syrah turned with a sour frown marring her face. Of course she would be the first to notice her.


    ¡°It¡¯s the demon,¡± she said. ¡°Where¡¯s Bernt?¡±

 47. Hurry Up and Wait

    ¡°Jori, hi!¡± Elyn gushed ¡°Look guys, it¡¯s Jori!¡±


    Furin offered a neutral grunt while Therion gave her a friendly nod.


    ¡°So, where¡¯s Bernt?¡± Syrah asked again.


    ¡°He is practicing his spells,¡± Jori explained. ¡°Great One Ed said that he has to adjust to his new investiture. Are you going to go back into the dungeon?¡± She¡¯d thought most of the adventurers wouldn¡¯t want to return after what happened. They didn¡¯t look nervous, though, and Syrah¡¯s eyes were glued to the entrance, suggesting a burning desire more than any kind of wariness.


    Therion grimaced. ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice, really. Count Narald declared a state of emergency, and the general wants all of the adventurers who¡¯ve been inside before to be here to guide the soldiers and provide support. Each party is going to be assigned an exploratory team to accompany them as they push their perimeter further down into the dungeon. How did Bernt get out of it? Did you say he got an investiture, finally?¡±


    Jori shrugged at the first question and answered the second. ¡°Yes? It was made with burning rain. I like how it looks, but it¡¯s not as good as my fire.¡± Not that he would be able to handle that.


    She gestured toward the entrance. ¡°Can you get them to let me inside? I am going to be an Underkeeper! Kind of. I have to meet Dayle inside¡ªthe Great One told me to help him today.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Dayle?¡± Therion said, obviously confused.


    ¡°She¡¯s talking about that other Underkeeper¡ªthe one who dragged Bernt off when we got out,¡± came Oren¡¯s voice from directly behind Jori. The little imp jumped in surprise and spun around to find the thief grinning down at her. He winked, then turned and started walking toward the breach. ¡°Come on!¡± he called over his shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can talk them into letting us in! Adventurers still have looting rights in there, you know. Being the first adventurers inside, now that it¡¯s being cleared, could really pay off. Assuming, of course, that those busy little soldier ants don¡¯t clear out all the goodies before we can take a look.¡±


    That turned out to be a persuasive argument. The party gathered their things without protest and walked over to the entrance. Their approach drew some looks from both the waiting soldiers and the adventurers, but nobody commented until they reached the soldiers guarding the way in.


    That was good. Jori wanted to avoid any confrontations, especially in the middle of an army. She tried to hang back a bit at first, but Oren pulled her right up to the soldiers and introduced her as ¡°the Underkeeper¡¯s pet demon¡± who needed access to the dungeon to meet up with her ¡°handler.¡±


    She felt a little insulted by that description, and almost pointed out that she wasn¡¯t associated with Dayle in any meaningful way¡ªbut she stopped herself. Arguing now would only make things more difficult. The soldier took a look at her and her robes, frowned, and then waved her through, nodding toward another nearby soldier.


    ¡°Escort the demon down to the Underkeeper at the vanguard.¡±


    Oren coughed. ¡°We¡¯d be happy to take her down. I understand we¡¯re about to be deployed inside anyway¡ªthe orders I got were pretty insistent that we hurry down here, after all.¡±


    The soldier huffed a laugh. ¡°It¡¯s the military, the orders always sound urgent. Your party will already have been assigned a unit to work with¡ªyou¡¯ll need to wait until the officers get you sorted out. I wouldn¡¯t count on going down today, either. Most likely, everyone out here is just acting as reserves in case things get hairy in there. No telling what the kobolds are up to.¡±


    Giving the adventurers a shrug, Jori followed the other soldier inside. The human led her in through the main entrance, and just like that, she was back in the tunnels. It felt like a different world, despite how close it was to home. It was cool, dark, and practically dripping with the scent of blood. The sounds of fighting had stopped.


    They emerged into a chamber full of supplies and injured soldiers, many of whom were just sitting around, bleeding. She saw spare weapons, but also open crates of different-colored potions. Next to them stood a bunch of bottles almost as big as she was, some filled with light green and others with clear liquid. They were far too big to drink, even for a human, and they were sealed tight with lead, rather than stoppered with corks like normal potions.


    Soldiers scrambled up and down the tunnels, some carrying supplies further in and others helping wounded soldiers back up. Someone with a more brightly colored uniform was handing out small healing potions to new arrivals. After taking a potion, each soldier wandered over to join the others where they sat, waiting to recover and return to their duties.


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    Without hesitating, her guide led her down the leftmost tunnel. There were broken traps everywhere, many accompanied by blood spatters. They reached the vanguard in the next chamber¡ªa collection of weary-looking soldiers, an untidy heap of dead kobolds, and a grumpy and disheveled Dayle. Another mage, a uniformed woman with a white armband and a runed fan, was sitting in a corner looking bored. She wore a bandolier that held several long-necked bottles of a blue-tinged liquid. She¡¯d never seen a mage carry potions like that and wondered what they were for. Something terrible, probably.


    At the sight of the bodies, Jori felt her hunger for the energies trapped within stir. But¡­ she didn¡¯t want to scare these soldiers. Maybe she could sneak a bite here or there if she was discreet.


    ¡°Dayle!¡± she greeted her new, sort-of colleague. ¡°The Great One sent me to help you!¡±


    Dayle looked up from what he¡¯d been staring at¡ªa huge brute of a kobold, or what was left of it. Its features were broader than usual, more dragon-like, but it didn¡¯t have any wings.


    ¡°Jori.¡± His eyes flicked to the other soldiers in the room, who had paused in their activities and were watching her a little warily. ¡°So, you¡¯re here to join the fun?¡±


    ¡°Yes! What are we doing?¡±


    ¡°What does it look like?¡± Dayle nodded toward the bodies. ¡°We¡¯re pushing in to cut off the kobolds from their other tunnels into the city¡ªwe don¡¯t want to get miles into the dungeon only to find them popping up in the city behind our backs. We could probably use someone who can scout the nearby tunnels down here without tripping all the traps.¡±


    Jori grinned. This was going to be fun.


    ***


    The area around the main breach was teeming with activity. Rank upon rank of soldiers stood in the sun¡ªwell over a thousand of them filling the street that Bernt could see. A loose group of adventurers stood off to one side, near the command post: the survivors of the dungeon. Most of them, at least. They looked battered from the fight yesterday, yet quite a bit more enthusiastic about being there than Bernt felt.


    He found his party easily enough, and was surprised to hear they¡¯d run into Jori just a few minutes earlier.


    What surprised him even more, though, was that she was apparently inside the dungeon with Dayle. And Oren had gotten her in, of all people. Bernt would have thought the thief would sneak in himself, somehow.


    ¡°So, what are you doing here?¡± Therion asked. ¡°Jori told us you were adjusting to your new investiture.¡±


    Bernt halfheartedly nodded in the direction of the southern gate. ¡°One of the gate guards down that way told me everyone who was inside the dungeon was expected to be here¡ªthe soldiers are apparently running sweeps, and I figured they would probably grab all the Underkeepers.¡± As he said it, though, Bernt realized he didn¡¯t see any other gray robes¡ªthere were no other Underkeepers out here. Maybe he could have gotten out of this. ¡°Ed said we were going in tomorrow.¡±


    Oren shrugged, looking peeved. ¡°It sounds like your archmage was right. That guard over there, by the entrance, he told us we got summoned down here to wait. As if we didn¡¯t have things to do a day after half the city got ripped to shreds.¡±


    ¡°Like what? Were you planning to go looting in the Crafters¡¯ District?¡± Syrah rolled her eyes at him. ¡°This is as good a way to spend a day as any.¡±


    The thief threw her a dirty look, but didn¡¯t answer. He probably was planning to do something along those lines, now that Bernt thought about it.


    Ignoring the exchange, Bernt sighed. ¡°It sounds like something the general would do, if what I¡¯ve heard so far is anything to go by. He doesn¡¯t seem to have a lot of respect for the guilds¡ªespecially not the adventurers. He thinks the threat in the dungeon was¡­ exaggerated. Making us wait here as nominal reserves might be his way of trying to teach us a lesson.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Therion said, nodding his chin up toward the soldiers, ¡°at least we¡¯re not stuck standing in formation like those poor suckers. Let¡¯s go find a shady spot to sit.¡±


    The group eventually found an unoccupied spot under the eaves of an empty shop, where they squatted, swapping stories about the battle. Therion and his father had spent the day holding a breach by themselves. Syrah and Furin had set up at a guard station near her home in the temple district, Syrah healing wounded guards and civilians who came looking for refuge while Furin assisted the guards.


    Meanwhile, Elyn was cornered by marauding kobolds in the Crafters¡¯ District. Apparently, she¡¯d managed to charm about half of them into attacking the others before hiding in a nearby alley. Oren¡­ didn¡¯t share. Bernt guessed he hadn¡¯t been much help, but decided not to voice his suspicions. The man was a thief, after all.


    When Bernt¡¯s turn came, he told them everything, from the first fight at the breach under the guardhouse to the battle at the park and the hours-long slog that followed.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t really consider it until a few minutes ago, but I pretty much only used my fire dart spell the entire day. I couldn¡¯t cast bigger spells because of the spiritual injury I already had.¡± He looked over at Therion. ¡°The pyromancers at the academy emphasized large-scale casting to take down entire formations. I always figured I¡¯d just throw fire darts when a big spell wasn¡¯t called for, but I¡¯m realizing now that I¡¯m leaving a lot of useful tools unused¡­¡± Bernt swallowed. ¡°I need to learn to use basic cantrips in combat. Can you help me?¡±


    A wide, gratified smile spread over Therion¡¯s face. Bernt groaned inwardly¡ªhe sounded like an idiot.


    ¡°Of course! Fighting in small groups is all about getting sneaky with the small stuff! You can kill an opponent with a well-placed mage hand, if you time it right! We should do some sparring!¡±

 48. Go Time

    It was past dark by the time they were relieved by another reserve battalion. Sure enough, they¡¯d spent the entire day just waiting for something to happen¡ªit never did. A few hours in, Bernt thought to try and use his familiar bond to see what was happening inside. All he saw was a vague reflection of his own sense of boredom. Apparently, Jori wasn¡¯t having a much more interesting time than he was.


    Therion had spent well over an hour monologuing about the best ways to use lights, minor illusions, adhesion, basic elemental shaping and his favorite, the classic mage hand, to get an edge in a fight by grabbing and directly manipulating the enemy or their weapons. His first investiture was for divination, despite his general focus on arcane force spells. It was the reason he could comfortably create scrying windows and channel trapfinding spells for extended periods of time. Considering his own investiture, Bernt could think of a number of ways to make basic cantrips more potent, assuming he could learn to apply them correctly and at the right moments. But in the end, even he had run out of steam. They swapped more stories and Elyn played for them for a while to pass the time, but there was no defeating the creeping boredom of sitting around in the same place for nearly ten hours.


    Bernt picked up something to eat on his way home, grabbing a few spicy wraps for Jori as well. She¡¯d still been inside when he left, but they couldn¡¯t keep her in there forever. They were supposed to be back at it by first light, after all. Sure enough, he sensed her approach just a few minutes after arriving at home, and she climbed through the window soon after, chewing on something he decided he¡¯d rather not identify.


    He held out the bag with the now-cold wraps.


    ¡°I got you some dinner,¡± he said as she snatched it with a toothy grin. ¡°How did it go in there?¡±


    ¡°Hrmphf.¡± She crammed half of one wrap into her face and crunched down on the spicy sour cabbage. At the same time, she sent a complex sense of boredom, frustration and amusement through their bond, using a method of communication she hadn¡¯t bothered with since she began to talk.


    ¡°It was¡­ boring, nothing really happened, but Dayle was fun to hang around with?¡± Bernt guessed, interpreting the feeling.


    ¡°Mhmm!¡± She nodded as she finished off the wrap. Talking through the last mouthful of spicy cabbage, she elaborated. ¡°I missed the fight! They were already dead, and it was quiet all day after. As if they just ran away. Dayle says they must be setting a big trap for us deeper down. The soldiers spent the entire time building little walls and collapsing some of the tunnels. They said it was to protect the city before they go in deeper. I¡¯m supposed to go down tomorrow with the gnome called Yarrod.¡± She stood up straight, puffing out her chest. ¡°I¡¯m a guide!¡±


    Bernt huffed a laugh. ¡°Nice. So, you¡¯re not coming with the party? We¡¯re supposed to be assigned to a unit and sent in as well.¡±


    The little demon shook her head and moved to pile a few pieces of wood into the stove. ¡°Dayle said it¡¯s better if I don¡¯t work too near the soldiers.¡± She raised her chin proudly and grinned, eyes glittering red. ¡°They were afraid of me, I think.¡±


    Well. That was going to be an experience for her. Bernt didn¡¯t think Yarrod would do anything to her, but working with the gnome was always¡­ interesting.


    ¡°Alright. Time to get to sleep. We need to be up early tomorrow. Can you wake me up?¡±


    ¡°Yup!¡± Jori said, her voice a little hollow as she leaned halfway into the stove and set fire to the wood. She was careful to make sure her hellfire vented out the chimney, rather than stinking up the room. She was a light sleeper and would wake up the moment the first of the other tenants walked by out in the corridor.


    Bernt sighed to himself as he took off his boots and lay back in his bed. He hated waking up before the sun.


    ***


    When they arrived back at the main breach in the morning, Bernt found all of the Underkeepers in attendance, forming a loose group right in front of the command post. Small groups of adventurers trickled in here and there, and fresh soldiers marched in from one direction as those they were replacing marched off in the other. Several threw uncomfortable glances at Jori, but much fewer than Bernt expected. Maybe they were starting to get used to her. She¡¯d come through here yesterday, after all.


    It was an encouraging sign, Bernt decided. The Solicitors¡¯ plan for Jori required her to be seen in public, whatever that was about. Ed had been annoyingly stingy with the details.


    The archmage waved, and Bernt waved back as they moved to join him and the others. Surprisingly, Jori scampered off to sit down with Dayle, Yarrod and Fiora, who were squatting around a flame spell one of them had cast to ward off the morning¡¯s chill. He¡¯d expected her to stick close to him, but this was probably good.


    ¡°Morning,¡± Ed said. ¡°Did you get a grip on your spellcasting?¡± For once, the old man wasn¡¯t holding his pipe. It was tucked into his belt, and he held a long, intricately carved staff instead¡ªone Bernt had never seen before. He must really be taking this seriously. Considering the terrifying dragon down there, Bernt supposed that was appropriate. His stomach clenched a little, remembering the glimpse of the battle he¡¯d seen during their escape.


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    ¡°I did,¡± he answered, holding up his hand to cast a basic magelight instead of his usual torch spell, just to show he could. It took a second longer than normal, but it glowed a steady blue¡ªjust as it was supposed to.


    Ed nodded. ¡°Good, good. Still¡­ stay out of trouble down there.¡± He scowled toward the breach and grabbed at his pipe, pulling it out of his belt before tucking it back in in a nervous gesture. ¡°If it were up to me, you wouldn¡¯t be allowed anywhere near a fight for a month after forming any new investiture, never mind your first one. Especially with the adventurers¡ªbut the guild has you registered in one of their delving parties and the general is determined to be as much of a pain in my ass as he possibly can, so you¡¯re stuck with them.¡±


    Bernt swallowed. He wasn¡¯t sure he should be getting into a fight either, but he would make the best of it. They were technically only meant to guide the soldiers anyway, though he doubted it would be that simple.


    ¡°Listen. I want you to keep an eye out for any kobolds you might be able to take alive,¡± Ed said, after a moment of hesitation. ¡°Tell your party for me. It would be worth interrogating one¡ªand I¡¯m not so sure that the soldiers will let any live if we don¡¯t force the issue.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Bernt said slowly. ¡°I suppose that shouldn¡¯t be too hard.¡±


    Ed nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Alright. Go and join your party. They¡¯ll probably send in the exploratory units down the main tunnels first with the adventurer parties, and then follow up with smaller teams that will include the Underkeepers¡ªexcept you. We¡¯ll sweep the smaller passages and chambers and come to reinforce any units that make contact until proper help gets there.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you inside, then,¡± Bernt said, and turned to go. He was brought up short by the sight of a shadow that seemed to grow out of the wall next to him, its shape leaning out from the command post and toward the rising sun in the east. It flickered left, then right, and then seemed to grow darker. Finally, it twisted, revealing the tall form of Radast standing less than two steps away and dressed in an expensive-looking coal-black jacket and trousers.


    The man¡¯s cold gaze fell on Bernt for just a moment before moving on to Ed, dismissing him carelessly, as if he¡¯d never seen him before.


    ¡°Good morning, archmage.¡± he said, head dipping forward in a tiny approximation of a polite bow.


    Ed grunted in response and chucked his head toward the breach. ¡°And?¡±


    The warlock nodded, face deadly serious. ¡°They¡¯re moving. Couldn¡¯t say exactly where, yet.¡±


    Ed sighed. ¡°Well. Shit. Did you warn Arice?¡±


    Bernt looked back and forth between the two. What in the hells was all this about?


    ¡°I did,¡± Radast replied with a contemptuous sneer. ¡°Not that it will matter. He¡¯s determined to pretend that there¡¯s nothing here. And he was happy to accept volunteers regardless. Three of my warlocks are currently combat-capable, and they¡¯ll be arriving in short order. I took the liberty of having us assigned to your care, in accordance with our agreement.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ Ed?¡± Bernt said, looking back and forth between the two.


    Ed scowled. ¡°You all are going down there to dig through trap-riddled tunnels looking for a dragon, so you¡¯re as prepared for trouble as you can be.¡± He hesitated, but then went on. ¡°Keep an eye out for demons¡ªthere might be some down there somewhere. Don¡¯t spread the word too much, though. If we don¡¯t find any, the damn general will find a way to screw me over for ¡®fearmongering¡¯ or some fool nonsense.¡±


    Bernt swallowed. Why would there be demons down in the dungeon? What did Radast know about it? Did this have something to do with Jori? Or the rogue warlock that summoned her? He still hadn¡¯t heard anything about that.


    He¡¯d have to ask for an update soon. They¡­ would tell him, right?


    Then again, who knew. They were Solicitors¡ªwhy would they bother telling him anything?


    Grumbling to himself, Bernt made his way over to the gathering of adventurers, where he found Furin standing around stoically. The giant dwarf waved in greeting and even smiled.


    ¡°Good morning, Furin. Have you seen the others?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he rumbled simply.


    Bernt looked over his shoulder. There was plenty of sunlight coming over the wall, so it was well past ¡°first light,¡± if not quite sunrise.


    ¡°Well, I guess they¡¯ll be here shortly,¡± he said, more for the sake of making conversation.


    Furin didn¡¯t respond, which Bernt supposed was to be expected. Respecting the taciturn dwarf¡¯s wishes, he turned slightly to watch the new arrivals. Officers were shouting orders over the noise of hundreds of people moving in a very small area, and soldiers responded with even more movement. He couldn¡¯t see the Underkeepers through the crowd anymore.


    ¡°Adventurers!¡± A rough voice called over the noise. ¡°Assemble over here by party!¡±


    Bernt and Furin exchanged a glance and silently began to push through toward the speaker. After about a minute, they found a gray-haired officer with skin like tanned leather walking through the groups of adventurers, identifying party leaders and checking them off on a sheet of paper before handing them each a folded letter¡ªorders, Bernt guessed.


    A huge hand grabbed his shoulder and dragged him off. With a stumble and a yelp, Bernt caught himself only to see that it was Furin. He¡¯d found the rest of the party. Therion waved when he caught sight of them, but the others were watching the officer, just as Bernt had been.


    It took a few minutes, but the officer arrived, compared Therion¡¯s name to his list and ensured that everyone was present. Then he handed them their orders and went off. The paper assigned them to a unit number and gave them the name of the officer they¡¯d be working under inside the dungeon¡ªa Lieutenant Rielle. This was all information they¡¯d already received verbally the day before, but Bernt supposed it wasn¡¯t official if it wasn¡¯t in writing. Was this why they hadn¡¯t sent them into the dungeon the day before?


    Bernt shook his head. It couldn¡¯t be. That was ridiculous.


    The units were standing in small squads in the street, organized in numerical order to make them easier to find. Lieutenant Rielle was a broadly built woman in her mid-thirties who looked at them skeptically when they arrived, but she greeted them politely enough. They barely had time to exchange tense nods with the other soldiers before the order came to go in and the units at the front began to move.


    It was time.

 49. A New Enemy

    The tunnels, fortunately, weren¡¯t as dark as Bernt remembered. Many of the soldiers carried alchemical lights¡ªbottles of glowing liquid¡ªand the passages near the entrance had already been fitted with fixtures that held bigger, brighter versions of the same.


    The dungeon was packed with people, all moving in the same direction. Every chamber the army already controlled had been fortified and was loaded with crates of potions, cots for the injured, and healers who sat on them and watched the incoming soldiers tensely¡ªwaiting for the action to start.


    Bernt swallowed. How many people were going to die in here today? The kobolds had proven themselves to be resourceful and dangerous in these tunnels. And that didn¡¯t even take the dragon into account. The soldiers made light conversation, probably trying to settle their own nerves. More than one nervously checked a crossbow or spear. Bernt and his party were quiet, eyes moving to check for traps they knew the army must have cleared, and that would be too well-hidden to see regardless. But that didn¡¯t matter¡ªthey looked anyway.


    When they reached dark tunnels beyond the army¡¯s control, Therion and Oren were called to the front. Oren apparently knew where they were¡ªhe¡¯d explored the dungeon much more thoroughly than the rest of the party, sneaking around behind kobold patrols while Bernt had been hiding and the others were imprisoned. He would be responsible for keeping them in their assigned search zone. Bernt could have found his way out from here, maybe, but he had no idea where he was in relation to anything inside the dungeon. The place was a maze. Maybe they would find the time to put up some signs later.


    One could hope.


    After exchanging a few words with the lieutenant, Therion pulled out his wand and cast his trapfinding spell. Oren and one of the soldiers moved ahead of him and began disarming the traps as the rest of the unit followed. It was almost exactly the way that they¡¯d progressed into the dungeon the first time, though thankfully there weren¡¯t quite as many traps. The little bastards probably hadn¡¯t had time to reset them all.


    They didn¡¯t travel in a straight line, instead moving in multiple directions, clearing all of the larger tunnels and chambers as they found them. This wasn¡¯t about pushing through to find the dragon¡ªthey were here to seize the entire dungeon. That meant the army needed to systematically extend its control without exposing itself to attack from behind or above. Every time they cleared a corridor or a chamber, fresh soldiers were sent in behind them to seize it, light it and sweep it for secret passages while smaller teams went in to explore the smaller branches off the main tunnels. It was very slow going.


    Several hours later, they still hadn¡¯t seen a single kobold. Bernt had lost track of time in the dark, but he must have been here half a day already.


    ¡°It¡¯s like they just disappeared into thin air,¡± Elyn commented. They¡¯d stopped for a break in one of the chambers, waiting for reinforcements to catch up and take control of the tunnel behind them. Sitting on the hard ground, she leaned comfortably back against Therion. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense. Where would they even go?¡±


    The mage had his eyes closed, probably battling a headache from holding that trapfinding spell for so long. They were approaching the area where the adventurers had been imprisoned. Last time, these tunnels had been teeming with activity. Now, not so much. The kobolds were gone, but it was more than that. The chambers were bare, completely cleared of tools, furniture, food and even trash.


    ¡°They probably have a more defensible position somewhere,¡± Oren replied. ¡°Kobolds like to swarm their enemies. It stands to reason they wouldn¡¯t want to get into a real fight in such tight spaces. Maybe they learned something from those days of getting bottled up in their tiny little breaches.¡±


    ¡°It never stopped them before,¡± Elyn grumbled, rolling her eyes.


    Ignoring them, Bernt focused on his familiar bond to find out how things were going for Jori. To his surprise, she wasn¡¯t too far away. She was bored, following Yarrod through a narrow passageway and trying to ignore the gnome¡¯s vaguely insulting monologue about the merits of allowing goblins to peacefully interact with ¡°proper society.¡±


    Bernt drew back his awareness, feeling lucky he didn¡¯t have to work with the gnome today. He heard boots on stone approaching from behind them.


    ¡°Break time¡¯s over!¡± Lieutenant Rielle called, eliciting a groan from soldiers and adventurers alike as they got up and ready to move.


    ***


    Some time later, a messenger came to take Oren away on an errand of some kind, slowing their progress. Bernt allowed himself a quiet groan of despair as the thief¡¯s back disappeared down the tunnel. This was going to take days.


    Another hour later, he was wondering what to cobble together for dinner, assuming their unit would ever be let out of here, when shouts came from up ahead. There was a crack in the air, followed by an odd, sulfurous smell.


    ¡°Contact!¡± roared Rielle, and Bernt watched as one of the soldiers near him turned and sprinted back the way they¡¯d come, dropping his spear. The other soldiers were already pressing forward to stand in a tight formation, spears pointing down the tunnel at the enemy. Furin had somehow managed to insert himself and was standing at the front with his club. Therion was nowhere to be seen, likely trapped on the wrong side of the soldiers. There was some movement on the left, and Bernt heard wood crack and splinter.


    Rielle shouted, ¡°Back up!¡± There was a white flash, maybe a magic missile from Therion, and then the familiar shimmer of a force shield materialized in front of the group. All together, they backed up toward the previous chamber. Another voice, low and gruff, called out a command in a foreign language.


    Bernt still couldn¡¯t see, but he knew one thing for certain¡ªthat was not a kobold.


    As they emerged into the chamber, Rielle started barking orders.


    ¡°Barriers on the tunnel! Semicircle, shields front and center! Mages focus on the tunnel, we¡¯ll deal with anything that makes it inside.¡±


    Bernt raised his wand and formed a fire shield just inside the tunnel as the last person came through¡ªit was Therion. He trailed blood from one arm, which he was clutching tightly to his chest.


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    Fire shield wasn¡¯t a spell he¡¯d practiced since his investiture¡ªbut he wasn¡¯t concerned about the effects the change would have. Sure enough, the barrier manifested as a flowing curtain of liquid-looking flames that didn¡¯t flicker so much as they roiled in convective patterns. Bernt wasn¡¯t entirely sure what the effect meant, but it certainly looked much hotter than before, enough to cover Therion¡¯s retreat, surely. A surge of warm pride built in his chest unexpectedly. He¡¯d come a long way in just a few weeks. It felt good, and not just because of the spell. He felt more in control seeing proof of his own progress like this.


    Wielding his wand awkwardly in his left hand, Therion raised a force shield at the mouth of the tunnel.


    He was just in time. Something came barreling through the fire with a shriek of pain and bounced off of the force shield, right back into the flames. Bernt looked over at the other mage, eyes wide. Had he planned that?


    The thing writhed for a moment, but then rolled up to its feet, horribly burned now, but still alive. It was¡­ a demon. Sort of. He looked similar to an armored dwarf, broadly built and with a few smoldering bits of gray hair still clinging to his head. But his eyes glowed with infernal red light, just like Jori¡¯s, and his skin was a dusky gray. Most tellingly, he had a curling set of ram¡¯s horns growing from his skull, and flames rose from his skin.


    Little by little, the flames went out, leaving behind rapidly healing skin. He wasn¡¯t immune to fire, then, but he had the same healing ability Jori had.


    Rielle tapped Therion on the shoulder.


    ¡°Loose!¡± she barked.


    With a loud snap, quarrels shot through the space that had held the shield just a moment before, tearing into the dwarf-demon¡¯s chest and abdomen. Unfortunately, they only had four crossbows.


    Roaring something unintelligible, he threw himself forward, apparently enraged more than injured by the thick bits of wood impaling him. There was something very wrong with this creature.


    Then another much more natural-looking dwarf dove through the fire, holding a shield out in front of him as if to block the flames while he punched through. That was not how the spell worked, and he hissed in pain as the fire burned his skin and set his beard aflame. But he came through without serious injury¡ªa fire shield was most useful as a deterrent rather than as a way to block a determined enemy¡¯s progress.


    When another dwarf came in behind that one and Furin and the soldiers engaged them, Bernt decided the shield had outlived its usefulness.


    A fire shield was made up of three components¡ªtwo temperature barriers and a basic fire conjuration in between, all tied together neatly into a single spellform. Using a trick he¡¯d last used during the Underkeepers¡¯ rescue of Dayle, Yarrod and that family of farmers, he allowed the far temperature barrier to unravel, releasing the heat of the spell into the tunnel beyond in a fire nova. The rest of the spell would fall apart in a few seconds and the heat would dissipate quickly, but it would make the tunnel unbearably hot for a few moments¡ªmaybe it would be enough to burn their lungs and eyes.


    Dwarves came plunging out of the tunnel like water from a spigot, arrested by Furin and the waiting soldiers who hacked, stabbed and shot at them. The first dwarf to make the leap fell to the berserk swings of his own demonic leader, who was trying to literally claw his way forward through the soldiers. He wasn¡¯t making much progress¡ªthey were keeping him in check with a combination of shields and spears. At the same time, the wounds they inflicted on the dwarf didn¡¯t seem to matter. He simply healed anything that was done to him in seconds.


    The dwarf creature took a step back, seizing the head of a spear to push it to one side as a soldier tried to stab him. The blade cut deeply into his hand, and he growled low in his chest. Then he flung his hand out in an arc, fingers splayed. Brightly burning droplets of blood sprayed out from him, splattering on the soldiers. They flinched back and several screamed as the liquid burned into their skin. Seizing the moment of distraction, the dwarf pushed into their guard.


    A soldier went down, then two. Furin lunged in to stop the demon-dwarf, but took a powerful blow to the face that sent him reeling.


    The other dwarves started pushing for the gap, and Bernt cast the only spell he could think of.


    The demonic dwarf stopped and fell forward, catching himself on his clawed hands with a grunt. His boots sizzled as the leather cooked, but they stuck to the ground. Bernt¡¯s adhesion cantrip worked like a charm.


    A soldier rushed in and stabbed down with his spear, faster than should be humanly possible. He caught the creature in the neck, just above the collarbone. Rising, the monster drove the weapon in deep. He slumped, and another soldier followed up with an axe, splitting his skull right between the horns. Only then did Bernt realize neither of the soldiers were from their unit. Reinforcements had finally arrived, and just in time.


    A shout went up from the dwarves, and those closest to the tunnel entrance began to retreat back into it. A few made it out, but then another force shield materialized in the tunnel, cutting off their retreat. Two more of the dwarves were cut down before the rest threw down their weapons and held up their hands in surrender. There were five of them still alive, though two looked like they might bleed out in the next few minutes.


    One of them said something in a foreign language, and they all sat down, putting their hands on their heads.


    He¡¯d never fought other people before. It was weird. Different, somehow. He knew that, in theory, kobolds were intelligent. But¡­ they were monsters. They ate people. He¡¯d never seriously considered killing someone like a dwarf. He knew it could happen, of course, but he hadn¡¯t expected it to feel like this. It seemed wrong, somehow, even though they¡¯d been attacking.


    Bernt felt someone grab his shoulder and looked over to find Therion grinning at him.


    ¡°That was perfect!¡± he said. ¡°You stuck him to the ground like a fly on a trap. And with a basic cantrip! I told you your adhesion spells were solid. Remember?¡±


    Bernt nodded at the other mage, feeling a little disoriented. His heart was still pounding with the excitement of the battle. It felt strange that it could be over so fast. But a few of the soldiers were looking his way too, giving him nods of appreciation.


    Bernt stood up a little straighter, and breathed in slowly. This was good. He¡¯d done it. He was working with adventurers and the military¡ªand he was pulling his weight.


    Syrah pushed forward with a face like a thundercloud. She glared at the dwarves in absolute disgust and said something Bernt didn¡¯t understand. Were they speaking Dwarvish? It didn¡¯t sound like any Dwarvish he¡¯d ever heard before.


    One of the dwarves responded, and Syrah lost her mind. She shouted, and Bernt flinched and raised his wand. He barely caught himself before he started launching fire darts into the dwarves. Several of the soldiers started to move on the dwarves, weapons out, but nobody struck. Syrah¡¯s shout resolved into words and then sentences as she began ranting at them in their own language, shaking her finger at them.


    ¡°Priest!¡± Rielle snapped, grabbing her shoulder to shake her. ¡°We have wounded! You can shout at the prisoners later.¡±


    Syrah spun, looking surprised, as though she¡¯d just remembered everyone else was here.


    ¡°We should kill them!¡± she hissed. ¡°They¡¯re Duergar demon-worshippers!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what they said,¡± Furin butted in. His speech was a bit slurred due to the angry red bruise forming on his jaw, alongside a deep cut that split him open from ear to lip. ¡°They said the warlock was their commanding officer.¡± He exhaled roughly. ¡°Though¡­ that¡¯s not exactly promising either.¡±

 50. Hellhound

    The soldiers took the prisoners away, leaving Bernt and the rest of the party sitting dazed in the chamber as more came to fortify the tunnel. Syrah made sure Therion was healing properly, and Furin began checking the bodies, looking for survivors. As the reinforcements took up positions in anticipation of another attack, a few of the soldiers moved to remove the dead enemies, but Bernt stood in their way.


    ¡°Hold on!¡± he said. ¡°We have looting rights down here. The adventurers and the Underkeepers. This was our fight!¡±


    It was only partially true, of course, but it was worth a shot. They¡¯d risked their lives for this, and they hadn¡¯t expected to face anything like a demonic dwarf. The soldiers just exchanged a glance, shrugged and walked off. That was good. The last thing Bernt wanted was to start a fight, or even an argument, with a bunch of soldiers. He wanted to see what that warlock abomination had.


    The creature had reverted to something more natural-looking in death. His horns were receding, and his odd dark-gray skin color was lightening into a grayish pink, like the other dwarves. He must have been a warlock. Bernt wondered exactly what kind of pact would have given him such demonic qualities. If the demon was inside the dwarf, was the warlock actually in charge, or was the demon driving him like a cart?


    Bernt shivered.


    ¡°Can you guys come and lend me a hand with this?¡± he called out as he tried to strip the armor off. He couldn¡¯t get the clasps undone¡ªthe design was completely unfamiliar. Furin lumbered over and helped him, quickly and efficiently removing his gear before moving on to the next body. Meanwhile, Bernt went through their pockets, collecting their personal effects and weapons.


    In a few minutes, they¡¯d gathered a wealth of dwarven steel, high-quality armor, and even a few enchanted items. It was only when he went through the warlock¡¯s belt pouch, though, that he found the real treasure. It was a small bag of holding, not unlike his own bag, and it contained quite a bit of gold alongside a thick cylinder of leather held closed with a simple buckle. The cylinder unrolled into a long leather band¡ªessentially a series of slim pockets containing vials, bundles of dried mushrooms, herbs, scales, hair, and other items more difficult to identify.


    As he touched them he felt the mana gushing from each one, confirming his suspicions. These were spell reagents¡ªall of them. Most likely, they were from deep below the earth, extremely rare up on the surface. He didn¡¯t see anything fire-related, but he was sure an alchemist would pay a fortune for a collection like this. The warlock must have needed it for his infernal rituals.


    Bernt¡¯s heart sped up in his chest, considering the potential value of what he held in his hands. The others were looking through the loot now, taking what they wanted.


    ¡°Uh, does anyone mind if I take this?¡± he asked, trying not to sound too timid. ¡°I think they¡¯re spellcasting reagents.¡±


    Furin hefted an axe in his hand and swung it experimentally. He shook his head, even as Syrah shrugged at him.


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t need reagents.¡±


    Elyn didn¡¯t look interested, but Therion came over to look, whistling in appreciation.


    ¡°Hey, good stuff!¡± He poked through the little pockets and pulled out an item here or there to look more closely. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what most of this is, but that, right there, is earthshine algae from the Midnight Sea.¡± He pointed down at some dried, midnight-black plant matter. ¡°It¡¯s practically impossible to find up here. I just saw it in a book once. There¡¯s no telling how much it¡¯s worth.¡±


    He rolled it up and handed it to Bernt, saying, ¡°You¡¯d have to be a skilled ritualist to know what to do with these, or an alchemist. I get dibs on those enchanted vambraces. I¡¯m not getting my arm gashed open like that again.¡±


    ¡°Come on!¡± Bernt said, shaking his head in denial. ¡°If it¡¯s worth that much, we should split it, at least.¡±


    Therion scoffed. ¡°Bernt. I don¡¯t need money. I¡¯m not here for the loot. What I need is for my arms to stop getting cut open.¡±


    Bernt raised a skeptical eyebrow. Everybody went adventuring for the loot. That and the prestige, of course. That was the whole point.


    As if sensing his thoughts, Therion pushed the roll into Bernt¡¯s chest. Bernt grabbed it reflexively, too startled to stop his friend as he spun on his heel and walked off.


    Therion was a good guy¡ªhe didn¡¯t have to do that. Enchanted dwarven metal work was very valuable, but it wasn¡¯t sized for humans. If Therion wanted vambraces so badly, he didn¡¯t need this to pay for them.


    Bernt couldn¡¯t use these reagents either¡ªthey were just worth a lot of gold. That was good, he had a debt to repay. He owed Ed for¡­ a lot. He could never have given Jori her papers without his help, and he wouldn¡¯t even have known where to start on a proper architecture for his mana network. Never mind that he¡¯d imposed on the old man for the material he needed. There was a nice bit of symmetry here, he thought.


    A shout from the tunnel interrupted his thoughts, and he quickly rolled the leather back up and stuffed it into his bag.


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    ¡°Contact!¡± an officer roared. Rielle wasn¡¯t here anymore, and someone else was running the defense here. An eerie, high-pitched howl echoed to them from far, far down the tunnel. ¡°Dan, clear the vermin!¡±


    A young mage in uniform with a white band around his arm ran up to the mouth of the tunnel, holding a metal-bladed fan etched with runes. With the other hand, he lobbed what looked like a potion bottle over the low wall one of the geomancer corps had raised there less than five minutes earlier. Then he raised the fan and began gently waving it at the entrance, humming to himself.


    Like Bernt, the aeromancer preferred to use an tonal focusing method to help him with his air magic. Not that he should need it. It seemed he was just casting a gentle breeze, but realization dawned in seconds as a biting chemical smell filled the room. No one moved back, so he guessed the mage was pushing the vast majority of the alchemical vapor down toward the enemy. There were no screams¡ªno sound at all, except for a low growl.


    ¡°Demon!¡± the officer called out. ¡°Spears and axes! It¡¯s a hound!¡±


    The mage took a step back to let soldiers in front of him, but he raised his hand higher and kept fanning. He¡¯d have to keep wind moving down that tunnel until the stuff completely dissipated, or he¡¯d probably kill everyone in the chamber. Maybe that was why he was using such an efficient casting method.


    Bernt stood up to help and found he wasn¡¯t the only one¡ªhis entire party was moving toward the action, and Elyn was playing her flute. A split second later, a monstrous four-legged creature nearly as tall as a human leapt over the low wall with no apparent effort, landed among the soldiers and snapped down with its jaws.


    The fighting was cramped and awkward as soldiers tried to stab and hack at the creature without exposing the mage right behind them. Bernt wanted to help, but any spell he could cast was just as likely to hit one of their own as the hellhound. Therion had the same problem, and both hesitated.


    Syrah didn¡¯t. She loudly chanted in Dwarvish and pushed into the soldiers, holding a stone amulet high above her head. Light shone from it like the sun and the hound yelped, backing away half a step. The soldiers took advantage of the opportunity instantly, skewering the thing with spears to hold it in place. Flame gouted from the deep wounds, splashing outward. Soldiers screamed and reeled back in panic.


    Thinking quickly, Bernt raised his wand and cast one of the first cantrips he¡¯d ever mastered: control flames. He hoped his investiture would help him use it on hellfire. The spell might not have been intended for this, but typical fire and hellfire had similar physical properties. Sure enough, the spellform activated and he seized control of the blaze. Concentrating, he pulled the fire off of the soldiers, drawing it together into a ball of roiling liquid flame overhead.


    It took less than five seconds, but it felt like an eternity. In the meantime, new soldiers had forced their way in, shielding their injured comrades and hacking down at the immobilized hellhound with axes. More blood splattered, and this time Bernt saw the fire eating into their weapons and armor. The spears were charred, already mostly gone. He reached out again, drawing the flames off and adding them to the inferno above.


    It was a lot of fire and, with no better solutions available to him, Bernt sent it down the tunnel to splash down as far away as possible. He saw the light of the flames as they impacted below, splashing hellfire all over the tunnel floor.


    Finally, the hound stopped struggling. The soldiers dragged two dead comrades out of the tunnel. They¡¯d bled out during the fighting, and both had been terribly burned. More soldiers shuffled out trailing blood from bites and horrific-looking burn wounds¡ªbut Syrah was already on it. The aeromancer, Dan, hadn¡¯t moved the entire time. He was still humming to himself and fanning at the entrance, though Bernt could see the side of his face. The young man¡¯s face was contorted with grief. He was crying.


    And Bernt thought he understood. His friends had stood in front of him, and died for it. If they could have fought in the chamber, they would have had more room to maneuver. But that wasn¡¯t an option. The wind stream needed to move cleanly down the tunnel. Of course, far more would probably have died if they¡¯d let the entire group of dwarves into the chamber, but that wouldn¡¯t help the mage¡¯s conscience now. He¡¯d never forget this.


    Bernt swallowed. If the dwarves could get reinforcements here so fast, how many other tunnels were under attack right now? How many people had already died? What would happen when they sent an entire unit of demons?


    ¡°Adventurers!¡± A voice called from the other side of the chamber. Bernt turned to see Rielle arrive with her soldiers, alongside another unit, this one containing several mages as well as a man and woman in odd, stylized armor with identical symbols etched on their breastplates¡ªa sword, point down with a pair of wings behind it. They were paladins of Auros, the Righteous Bulwark. Bernt stared stupidly for a moment. Usually paladins worked for their respective temples. He hadn¡¯t realized the military had any.


    He was so surprised he actually missed what Rielle said next, but he understood well enough what she wanted as she waved them over.


    ¡°I have orders for you,¡± she said. ¡°All nonmilitary personnel are to evacuate the dungeon immediately. The prisoners confirmed that we¡¯ve made hostile contact with the Duergar Empire. General Arice doesn¡¯t want any third-party interests involved until after we¡¯ve had a chance to make diplomatic contact.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?!¡± Syrah cried. ¡°You need us down here! This is a disaster. We¡¯ve only seen two groups, and both had warlocks leading them!


    There¡¯s no telling what will be coming up that tunnel next, and you need absolutely everyone you can find to keep them back.¡±


    Rielle nodded. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s why we brought in the paladins. I¡¯d personally love to keep you around, but you¡¯re not the only ones here. When we got to the general, your local head of the Solicitors was already there, screaming at the general about his, the count¡¯s, and the king¡¯s ¡®criminal incompetence.¡¯ The general¡­ he didn¡¯t take it well. He tried to order the man stripped of his position, but apparently he can¡¯t actually do that, so he just ordered all nonmilitary participants out of the dungeon.¡±


    Bernt tried to picture Radast screaming at someone like the general, but he couldn¡¯t. The warlock had seemed like the type to pride himself on his control¡ªboth of himself and others. Then again, he supposed a Solicitor should have strong feelings about what looked like an army of unsanctioned warlocks popping up in the middle of their country.


    Wait a minute. Hadn¡¯t that book he found been written in Duergar? The one on demons?


    Bernt shivered.


    How long had the dwarves been pushing their way up these tunnels? And how long had the kobolds held them back?

 51. Non-Combatant

    The street outside the dungeon was bustling with activity when they emerged. Adventurers congregated on corners, exchanging stories, sharing drinks and speculating about what was going on inside. Elyn and Therion moved to join them, curious to learn if anyone else had run into the Duergar as well. Bernt followed, but kept back a little ways. He wasn¡¯t in the mood for conversation right now. Still, he wanted to know what the others had found.


    They had all known that the army probably couldn¡¯t eliminate the threat the elder dragon and the kobolds represented in a day. Bernt had been prepared for that. Now, though, they had an entirely new enemy to worry about, and absolutely no information about the dragon. Where had it gone? Was it coming back?


    Bernt kept his ears open and found the gossip did offer a few clues. Several of the exploratory units had encountered hostile Duergar, forcing them back and halting their forward push. The geomancer corps was working with the engineers to build new fortified positions in the tunnels. They wanted to consolidate their gains before they tried anything further, but nobody knew any details regarding what that might be. There had been several deaths already.


    Nobody had seen any kobolds. At least, no living ones. It was as if they¡¯d just melted away into thin air.


    An armored adventurer with a sword at his belt threw up his hands. ¡°I don¡¯t get it. They expect us to just¡­ go home now?! They¡¯re probably fighting in there right now!¡±


    Bernt couldn¡¯t believe it either, and he looked over at Therion, who seemed uncertain as well. Unexpectedly, it was Furin who responded, nodding toward the dungeon entrance.


    ¡°This is their job¡ªthey do this every day. Kicking us out is probably standard procedure. It¡¯s hard to make diplomatic contact when you¡¯re already fighting. Harder when adventurers are trying to kill them for loot.¡± He dusted himself off, though he wasn¡¯t dirty, and adjusted his club on his belt. ¡°They¡¯ll pull us back in before long. Might as well make the best of it.¡±


    With that, he nodded at them, turned and walked off. After a moment, Syrah trailed after, grumbling at him in Dwarvish.


    Bernt stared after them in incomprehension. When had Furin become such a chatterbox?


    Not knowing what else to do, Bernt picked up his bag and excused himself. He still felt¡­ disconnected, somehow¡ªas if he were observing from outside himself.


    Shaking his head, he began walking toward the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters. He was most of the way there when he felt a tug on his familiar bond. It was weak at this distance, but he recognized it instantly: a summons. Usually he wasn¡¯t on the receiving end, but Jori did this occasionally¡ªwhen there was a clog in the sewers, mostly. Why would she need him to come to her? She was far faster than he was, and she could get almost anywhere undetected. It was strange. Worrisome, maybe.


    Turning in the middle of the street, he oriented himself by feel to sense where she was. She was far enough away that he couldn¡¯t see through her eyes right now. It took him a few minutes to realize where she must be¡ªJori was at the keep. Had she gotten into trouble somehow?


    Urgency started to gnaw at him and he hurried off toward the castle. He hardly made it halfway before he was stopped by a familiar figure, who waved to get his attention as he approached. It was Oren.


    ¡°Ah good, you¡¯re already out,¡± the thief said. ¡°I was worried I¡¯d have to go find you all inside. Where¡¯s everyone else?¡±


    Bernt frowned at him. ¡°They left¡ªwent home, probably. We¡¯ve been released for now. You can relax. They cleared us all out of the dungeon because of the Duergar.¡±


    Noting Oren¡¯s surprised expression, Bernt quickly explained what had happened to the group today. When he mentioned the Solicitors¡¯ apparent alarm at the presence of demons below, the thief scoffed.


    ¡°They¡¯re just jealous that someone else gets to play with their pets!¡± He leaned in conspiratorially. ¡°I can¡¯t believe they let you keep that imp! Do you have any idea what I could do with a sneaky little monster like that?¡±


    Bernt leaned away a bit, uncomfortable with the thief¡¯s outburst. Jori might be a demon, sure, but she was not a monster. Not to him, anyway.


    ¡°Anyway, they¡¯re worried about the wrong threat,¡± Oren continued, settling back a bit. ¡°It¡¯s the dragon. Your pet demon found a kobold¡ªjust one, and she saved it from your gnome colleague. They called me in to translate for it. That¡¯s where I¡¯m coming from right now, actually. I guess not that many adventurers speak Draconic. Turns out Ambrose actually reads those intelligence reports.¡±


    ¡°We already knew it was an elder dragon,¡± Bernt said slowly. ¡°And it looks like it might not even be here anymore. There are Duergar in the tunnels now, with demons.¡±


    Oren scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s not just any elder dragon. It¡¯s Conperion!¡± He waited a second, as if waiting for recognition to dawn in Bernt¡¯s eyes. ¡°No? You know, the draconic mastermind? Terror of the Dark Halls, suspected to have ended the third Imperial Dynasty?¡±


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    Bernt gave him a blank look.


    ¡°Ugh. You are hopeless. Conperion is famous. He once blackmailed the forest elves of Borum, across the sea, for a rare book and ended up taking their entire legendary library. What makes the story really strange is that a neighboring dwarven kingdom found the entire collection a century later, dumped in a heap in what looked like a random underground chamber in the depths. The dwarves refused to return the books, and Borum¡¯s been in an official state of war with them over it for over sixty years. They¡¯ve never actually fought, they¡¯re both more fond of diplomacy and threats than actual fighting, but the war has had enormous political consequences in the entire region for generations. There¡¯s no telling what exactly Conperion¡¯s real aims were.¡±


    The thief sighed. ¡°This could be the same. No telling what we¡¯re walking into now. Maybe he¡¯s gone, maybe he¡¯s not. Maybe the Duergar Empire is knocking on our basement doors, or maybe that¡¯s just what he wants us to think. He¡¯s a manipulator and we are definitely being used as pawns in some way or another.¡±


    ¡°That, or it¡¯s nothing and he just wanted to leave,¡± Bernt said. ¡°There¡¯s no point in worrying about it.¡±


    Oren scowled. ¡°Anyone with any sense should be getting out of this city, or maybe moving to an entirely different continent. For all we know, the next part of the plan is ensuring that Duergar overrun the entire realm.¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°All adventurers have been ordered to stay, and I don¡¯t have anywhere else to go. I doubt any of the others would leave, either. This is home.¡±


    Besides, as he said it, he realized that he didn¡¯t want to be anywhere else anyway. If there was one thing he¡¯d learned in the past few weeks, it was that you couldn¡¯t escape other people¡¯s schemes¡ªnot really. He¡¯d just been doing his job when he got tied up in a conflict with the Alchemists¡¯ Guild. Now he had half the city¡¯s political players trying to maneuver him or Jori for one purpose or another, most of which he didn¡¯t understand. At least Ed and Iriala were looking out for him, but they were doing it too.


    Any one of them might eventually get him or Jori killed. At least the dragon would be scheming on a larger scale. All things considered, he just couldn¡¯t summon the energy to feel threatened by a dragon that wasn¡¯t even here anymore.


    Oren shook his head, but let it go. Bernt waved goodbye and hurried off.


    ***


    About ten minutes later, Bernt found Jori perched next to the guard station at the base of the winding street that led up to the castle. The senior guard Palina was standing next to her, looking a little uncomfortable, but not threatening. He waved and she relaxed.


    ¡°Underkeeper!¡± she called. ¡°I heard this was one of yours. It said you would come for it and the juvenile noncombatant here.¡±


    Only then did Bernt realize that a tiny creature was huddled up next to Jori. Trying to hide behind her, actually. It was a young kobold, and it was clutching an egg as big as its head.


    It was adorable. And out of place. Not unlike Jori herself, he supposed.


    ¡°Uh¡­ Jori?¡± Bernt said, trying to suppress a smile. ¡°Why do you have a kobold there? And an egg?¡±


    ¡°I found him in the dungeon!¡± Jori explained. ¡°He told the magistrate and the big adventurer warlord about the Great Dragon. I said I would watch him!¡± She looked over at the little creature. ¡°And his egg!¡± she added belatedly.


    Bernt frowned. ¡°Wait, you want to keep it? I don¡¯t think we can just keep a kobold, Jori¡­ and what kind of egg is that?¡±


    Why in all the hells would Jori volunteer to watch a kobold? Sure, it was cute now, but he knew what they were like when they got bigger. He would probably have nightmares about his first trip into that dungeon for years.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a kobold egg. He worked in their nursery or something,¡± Palina interjected. ¡°And don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re not supposed to keep him. The magistrate wants him taken down to the orphanage. Apparently you work there sometimes? Some paper pusher in there mentioned your name, which was convenient, since the little runt has taken a liking to your demon.¡±


    Bernt snorted, then added the part she didn¡¯t say. ¡°¡­ and none of the guards volunteered to walk through the city streets with a demon and a kobold in tow.¡±


    He didn¡¯t want to do that either. But the cat had been out of the bag with Jori for days by now. Their entire strategy for keeping her safe in the city now required her to be seen. People would need to get used to seeing her out and about. Being seen walking around with a kobold wouldn¡¯t make it any worse.


    ¡°Alright, fine. Come along, then.¡±


    ***


    The trip down to the orphanage was uneventful¡ªmost people were still too preoccupied with the work of cleaning up the city to focus on his unusual companions. Those who did notice didn¡¯t exactly look friendly, but Bernt shrugged it off. He had seen too much today and was just too tired to care what random people on the street thought of him. What did they know, anyway? They hadn¡¯t fought the kobolds. Most had retreated to safer parts of the city or barricaded themselves into their homes.


    When they arrived at the orphanage, they were greeted by a very enthusiastic Trip¡ªthe little ball of energy had taken over door duties from Farrin. She had been learning Draconic to help her get admitted to the research track at the Mages¡¯ Academy, and she started chattering at the bemused kobold hatchling immediately. While Farrin was a bit taken aback by Jori, she quickly took to the hatchling and had him settled with only a few questions.


    Jori patted the creature on the head as they left, and Bernt wondered what had made her so attached to the thing so quickly. They were enemies, after all. But it didn¡¯t really matter. One hatchling, even a single full-grown kobold, wasn¡¯t much of a risk to anyone outside their trap-ridden lair.


    As they approached home, Jori vanished into an alley without discussion. She would come in through the window, as she always did. Bernt couldn¡¯t wait to wash and climb into bed. He hadn¡¯t been injured, but he could feel the blood and sweat crusted into his hair. There was no telling whose blood it was, and he didn¡¯t want to think about it.

 52. Diplomacy

    Iriala adjusted the hem of her formal robes and adopted a professionally stern expression as the Duergar diplomat was led into the great hall by a sweaty-looking Commander Righmond. The hall wasn¡¯t particularly large, but the windows that lined both sides of the room compensated somewhat, letting the pre-dawn light in and giving the place a greater sense of depth.


    The ambassador looked almost like a normal dwarf, except for his ash-gray skin and weirdly dead eyes. She was sitting behind the count and to his left, acting mostly as an observer to this meeting alongside several other guild officers representing the adventurers, the rangers, and the berserkers. General Arice sat to the count¡¯s right, alongside several other military officers. The seats that would ordinarily be filled by priests and paladins for an event like this were notably empty. Word of the dwarves¡¯ reliance on demons had already spread like wildfire throughout the city, and Iriala assumed the count didn¡¯t want them spoiling negotiations before they even started.


    ¡°Ambassador Janis of the Duergar Empire, my lord,¡± Righmond croaked, sounding like a damned toad and somewhat spoiling the pageantry. Count Narald really needed to get a proper herald for occasions like this.


    General Arice, in an unexpected display of competence, had released one of the Duergar prisoners they¡¯d captured yesterday to bring a message back to their people. While the man didn¡¯t strike her as much of a general, it seemed he did at least consider political solutions to problems before skipping straight to open war. And it had worked¡ªso far, at least. The attacks had stopped, and Janis there had appeared alongside his retinue in the wee hours of the morning. She supposed the timing was an accident¡ªDuergar could hardly be expected to plan their lives according to the day and night cycle.


    The diplomat looked grumpy, probably because he¡¯d been made to wait for hours so that everyone required for this meeting could be summoned. He bowed before the count and introduced himself in nearly unaccented Beseri.


    ¡°Your lordship, I bring greetings on behalf of the Duergar Empire,¡± he began. ¡°My government wishes to express its regrets for the unprovoked hostilities visited upon your forces in the past day. We have worked hard for years to clear the dragon¡¯s nest of the vermin who occupied it. Due to our recent success in breaching their defenses, our soldiers may have been somewhat¡­ overenthusiastic.¡±


    Iriala suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. As if the attacking Duergar hadn¡¯t noticed they weren¡¯t fighting kobolds.


    Narald inclined his head graciously. She couldn¡¯t see the man¡¯s face well from where she was sitting, but she saw him lean forward with interest.


    ¡°I see. Does this mean, then, that you have defeated the dragon and his horde of kobolds? We sought to engage them yesterday, but we found only yourselves after breaching their first line of defense.¡±


    ¡°My government would be willing to exchange information on this matter, provided that you share with us your own experience regarding these vermin.¡±


    Narald looked toward Arice, who nodded at him.


    ¡°Very well,¡± the count allowed. ¡°General, if you please.¡±


    In a few short sentences, Arice outlined the kobolds¡¯ activities over the past few weeks, omitting how much the creatures had damaged the city as well as the fact that they¡¯d managed to kill a significant portion of the city¡¯s adventurers.


    At least the man wasn¡¯t stupid enough to hand the dwarf a list of their strategic weaknesses.


    As he talked, she watched the dwarf. He was strange, unnatural somehow. He didn¡¯t blink quite often enough, and his expression was blank, though it slipped into more of a dour frown as he listened.


    When the general finished, the ambassador gave a nod, as if lining up the facts in his own mind. Then he stood up a little straighter and began to relate his own version of events. His words were polite, but his tone was flat and dead, just like his expression.


    ¡°The enemy¡¯s forces launched an offensive against us just a few days ago, which we repelled. When we pushed them back to their fortifications, we found them poorly defended, and punched through. We believed that they may have overextended themselves, yet when we drove deeper into their warren, we found only empty chambers. We believe it likely that the dragon has relocated. Knowing what we do of Conperion, however, we will continue to treat him as an ongoing threat to the Empire and work to eliminate him.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Narald scratched at his chin. ¡°And do you intend to continue hostilities against us, or would you be amenable to discussing a cessation of hostilities?¡±


    Janis bowed, as if he¡¯d been waiting for this line. ¡°We would be amenable, of course, your lordship.¡± He looked up, baring his teeth in an odd sort of smile that didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°My government has already instructed our forces not to approach your lines¡ªthey will hold the positions they have already gained, but make no further moves for the time being.¡±


    Iriala shivered. This gray dwarf gave her the creeps. He said all of the right things, sure, but there was something profoundly wrong with him. Diplomats were supposed to be intelligent, eloquent, and charismatic. This dwarf was about as personable as a lizardman. If this was their ambassador, what was the average Duergar like? They had no official dealings with Besermark, and no known interests on the surface, but that didn¡¯t reassure her at all. Whatever agreement they came to today, the count and the general needed to treat this as a long-term problem.


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    Hopefully, they didn¡¯t have their heads up their asses too far to see that.


    ***


    ¡°So, you saved a kobold hatchling to help Ed get the information he needed about the dragon¡­ How did you get it placed at the orphanage? There¡¯s no way they would just casually decide to allow a random kobold with an egg to live in the city.¡±


    Bernt and Jori had arrived at work only to find Ed shut in his office with Iriala, apparently discussing something in private. It seemed strange to go to work at all after the last few days¡ªbut Ed hadn¡¯t told them not to show up. That, and Bernt didn¡¯t have anything better to do anyway.


    They settled down in a comfortable spot near the communal stove. Most of the others were already sitting around in the main room, waiting for instructions. Nobody seemed too interested in bothering the newcomers.


    Jori grinned up at him smugly. ¡°I helped him! He is my minion¡ªI¡¯m going to keep him and teach him to find clogs in the sewers for me!¡±


    Bernt stared down at her, too flabbergasted to respond for a second.


    ¡°Your¡­ minion,¡± he said, after a moment. ¡°Did you talk to him?¡±


    Jori nodded happily. ¡°Yes. We made a deal!¡±


    ¡°What sort of deal, exactly?¡± Bernt asked very carefully.


    ¡°I said that I would keep him and his egg safe and now he has to do what I want!¡± Jori said. ¡°It¡¯s a great deal!¡±


    Bernt relaxed, exhaling softly. So it was just an informal agreement. He was glad to know there was no pact involved¡ªnot that a kobold hatchling would know how to form a proper pact.


    ¡°Jori, what exactly happens if he disobeys you?¡±


    Jori frowned, eyes scrunching up in confusion. ¡°What? He wouldn¡¯t do that!¡± she protested. Then she huffed and shook her head. ¡°I would smack him on the head and then he would listen to me!¡±


    Bernt was considering whether that meant anything when they were interrupted by an opening door. Iriala emerged, looking serious. She nodded at the Underkeepers as she passed, but left without making conversation. Bernt supposed she had her own business to be about.


    A moment later, Ed came out, looking weary.


    ¡°Good. Looks like most of you are here.¡± He settled himself down on a wooden bench next to Dayle, lighting his pipe as he did.


    ¡°We¡¯re not technically responsible for any of this, but I want to make sure you all know what¡¯s going on,¡± he began. ¡°The damned dragon is gone, according to both the Duergar ambassador and the only kobold we managed to extract from the dungeon yesterday. Assuming we believe that, we still have what sounds like a big army of foreign dwarves under the city. The count just signed an armistice with them, trying to head off a war.¡±


    The image of the berserk demon dwarf flashed before Bernt¡¯s eyes and he shuddered at the memory. He scoffed in disbelief. ¡°The ones that attacked us didn¡¯t look like they were interested in being good neighbors.¡±


    A few of the Underkeepers made noises of agreement. By the sound of it, Bernt wasn¡¯t the only one who¡¯d tangled with the Duergar yesterday.


    Ed nodded in acknowledgment, waving a hand to settle them down. ¡°Iriala was in the meeting and has about the same opinion of our new neighbors. The ambassador apparently didn¡¯t make a great impression with the count, either. Still, the armistice will buy the general a bit of time to get his head out of his ass and build up proper defenses. If we¡¯re lucky, the crown might even send somebody serious to help deal with the threat.¡±


    Dayle cleared his throat. ¡°So, Ed. What does that mean for us? Do they still expect us to help defend the city? If the dragon¡¯s gone, aren¡¯t we just back to being glorified maintenance workers?¡±


    The archmage shrugged. ¡°For now. We¡¯ll be dragged in again as soon as the fighting starts, I¡¯m sure. It¡¯s not official. Hopefully, Narald, or at least Gerold, will plan ahead and give us a proper budget to work with.¡±


    Ed looked around, meeting everyone¡¯s eyes. ¡°I know none of you signed up for this. The Underkeepers aren¡¯t supposed to fight anything more dangerous than slimes or mutant rat men. If you don¡¯t have the stomach for real fighting, you should quit as soon as you can and leave the city. You might face retaliation if you were forced into your job here, but they won¡¯t kill you for it. Whenever this farce of an armistice breaks down, it¡¯ll be too late¡ªthey¡¯re doing to draft everyone with a lick of training to join the fighting.¡±


    Bernt swallowed and Uriah looked around uncertainly. Nobody said anything.


    ¡°Alright, get out of here,¡± Ed said. He scowled tiredly at nothing before looking up and meeting their eyes. ¡°Take the day off and think about it. Don¡¯t wait too long.¡±


    As the others left, Bernt approached Ed, pulling the leather roll of reagents out of his bag as he did.


    ¡°Ed! Can I talk to you for a minute?¡±


    ¡°Mm?¡± Ed grunted around his pipe. He looked down at the bundle in Bernt¡¯s hands.


    ¡°Ehm, I got something off one of the Duergar yesterday,¡± Bernt said, feeling awkward. He held it out. ¡°You mentioned the need for a proper budget, and I figure that¡¯s partly my fault, at least. I cost you quite a bit of gold in my¡­ uh¡­ negotiation with the alchemists.¡±


    Ed snorted. ¡°Son. That was about communication more than money. It was worth it. If you want to thank me, work on adapting to your new investiture and get started on the next one as soon as you can. I have a feeling that having a proper pyromancer around is going to come in pretty handy in the coming months¡ªand I very much doubt that Arice is going to lend me any of his.¡±


    When Bernt didn¡¯t pull the bundle back, Ed reached out and took it, unrolling it a little bit to see what was inside. When he saw, his eyes widened and he whistled appreciatively.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not bad. Luminescent cave mushrooms, a vial of demon¡¯s blood, elemental water¡­¡± The archmage shook his head. ¡°Not bad. Some of this stuff is worth real money. It¡¯s not just for warlocks¡ªa few mages over at the guild would probably kill to use these for research on ritual magic. And alchemists use all kinds of reagents, of course. Are you sure you don¡¯t want to hold on to this?¡±


    Bernt stood up straighter. ¡°No, sir. You helped me out¡ªboth me and Jori. I want to give something back.¡±


    Ed watched him appraisingly for a moment, then nodded and took it.

 53. Epilogue Arc 1

    Bernt headed downhill toward the docks and his tenement, leaving Jori to her own devices. She was making new friends and quickly developing more of her own interests, which he supposed was a good thing. He¡¯d considered trying to find Therion to see what he made of the situation, but thought better of it. Unexpected free time was too valuable to waste on trading gossip. Finally, Jori was relatively safe, the dragon was gone, and he had his first investiture. Unless the Duergar meant to violate their new armistice immediately, he wouldn¡¯t be forced to risk his or Jori¡¯s life again for at least a little while. That meant he could take the day to work on his development and finally study that journal and the cold fire spell he still had sitting on his shelf. Who knows what kind of secrets he might be able to uncover?


    Bernt¡¯s stomach rumbled, and he responded by making a short detour to a well-traveled street corner, where he found a familiar face standing behind a steaming food cart.


    ¡°Bernt, how¡¯s it going down there?¡± Cal said as he loaded up a pair of wraps for him. ¡°I heard you guys went into the dungeon with the army! I didn¡¯t think they could just pull you into a fight like that! Did you have to fight the dragon?!¡±


    Bernt snorted. ¡°Nah. I¡¯m not going anywhere near that thing if I can help it. As far as I heard, it¡¯s not even down there anymore.¡± He grimaced. ¡°We ran into some pretty mean gray dwarves, though¡ªthat was bad enough, if I¡¯m being honest. But it sounds like the fighting¡¯s done for now.¡±


    Cal handed him the wraps. ¡°Well, things can¡¯t stay interesting forever, right? Somebody¡¯s gotta keep the city running, after all.¡±


    Bernt huffed a laugh and waved. He wouldn¡¯t mind going back to business as usual, but he very much doubted things would ever be the same after this. Not for him.


    Besides, there was still that rogue warlock to worry about, maybe. He would have to ask the Solicitors for an update about that. Would they even tell him if they found him?


    He also still needed to work on his spellcasting. For that matter, he still had to finish memorizing the health and safety regulations for the alchemists¡¯ guild. Ugh.


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    Bernt was so lost in his own thoughts, trying to decide exactly what he should focus on first, that he didn¡¯t realize anything was wrong until he tried to unlock his door.


    His key didn¡¯t fit.


    Stupidly, he tried again as if jamming the key in harder would solve the problem. Nothing happened.


    What?


    Only then did he see the note lying on the ground. There was a tack lying next to it, as if someone had halfheartedly tried to pin it to the door and not bothered to fix it when it didn¡¯t hold.


    Heart sinking, Bernt picked it up and turned it over, revealing the short message it contained.


    Bernt,


    Your lease is hereby terminated effective immediately.


    I warned you repeatedly about practicing dark magic in my house! Did you think I don¡¯t hear news and rumors here? This is a respectable establishment, and I have a duty to my tenants!


    You can recover your belongings from my office, after which you will no longer be permitted in the building.


    - Rina


    Bernt groaned.


    Shit.


    ***


    Deep beneath the earth, a massive scrying window winked out, cutting off Conperion¡¯s view of one of the tunnels in his former home. The surface dwellers had met the deep dwarves and spilled the blood of their demons.


    With his mind focused on the future, the ancient dragon cast a clawful of bones selected from some of the less interesting prisoners who had been foolish enough to invade his lair. He leaned down to examine the patterns they made as they fell onto the black sands of the shore beneath his feet. Twisting his head around on his long neck, he checked them again from another perspective, and then again, one more time, just to be sure.


    With a deep, gratified rumble in his chest, he gathered up the bones and dropped them on a narrow stone shelf that jutted from the cavern wall beside him. Teasing the strands of fate into their proper order¡ªhis order¡ªalways gave him a unique sense of satisfaction. His bonded kobolds would need a little time to recover their numbers, but it was a small sacrifice to make, all things considered.


    Breathing in the pleasantly briny air, he dipped his tail into the waters of the Midnight Sea and settled down to rest.

 2.1 Apartment Hunting

    ¡°Look, I''m sorry. I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t offer you a lease at this time.¡± The sweaty, balding dwarf said with a professionally pained expression on his face. It was warm and muggy in the property manager¡¯s little office and it smelled like he hadn¡¯t cracked the room¡¯s tiny window in weeks.


    ¡°Ah. That¡¯s¡­ too bad," Bernt sighed tiredly and tried not to let frustration leak into his voice. "Why is that?"


    He already knew the answer. He¡¯d heard it often enough in the past few weeks. But, he figured it was worth making him say it to his face.


    ¡°Well. We checked your references, and the building¡¯s owner felt that you aren¡¯t a good fit.¡± The man fidgeted with his pen, flipping it over his thumb and accidentally spraying a bit of ink onto his desk. ¡°We have a strict pet policy, you see¡­¡±


    ¡°And you heard that there was an underkeeper running around with a pet demon.¡± Bernt finished for him, losing his patience. ¡°Yes, yes, I understand the situation.¡±


    Another morning wasted on one of his rare days off, and he¡¯d spent it filling out paperwork, waiting pointlessly while the property manager processed his application and pretending all the while that he didn¡¯t notice the unpleasantly musty scent of damp, unwashed dwarf that filled the room.


    The damned little man had had the nerve to wrinkle his nose at him when he came in. As if he hadn''t just sanitized his stained Underkeepers'' robes and boots.


    Rising, he nodded a little ungraciously at the man and made for the door. It¡¯s not that he didn¡¯t understand their reluctance. A fire-slinging demon could admittedly be considered a real risk ¨C never mind that neither demons nor the people who associated with them were generally celebrated in polite society.


    But he needed to live somewhere, and it wasn¡¯t as though he could just put Jori out on the street.


    Stewing in his frustration, Bernt made his way back to the inn where he¡¯d been staying for the past month ¨C ever since he¡¯d been evicted from his old home near the docks. The Minotaur¡¯s Head was located near the Adventurers¡¯ Guild and run by a retired mid-ranking adventurer. It was a fairly nice establishment that served traveling adventurers and foreigners of all kinds and it regularly housed people who were much more dangerous than a lowly lesser demon and a half-baked pyromancer.


    Word had gotten around about Jori and him. He¡¯d known it would happen, of course ¨C she wasn¡¯t incognito anymore, now that Ed and Iriala signed Jori¡¯s official paperwork. It was inevitable, and he¡¯d been prepared for the dirty looks from strangers out in the street. Unfortunately, he hadn¡¯t really considered the more literal cost.


    Living at an inn was not affordable and he was cutting into his savings just to keep a roof over his head. He needed to find a solution soon, but he had precious few places left to look. Bernt had briefly even considered creating his own home from scratch. He could tunnel out an entire complex of rooms under the city if he wanted. But, that wasn¡¯t a real solution. It would be illegal, for one, and he was a government employee. Worse, living in what amounted to a lair in the sewers would make him the walking stereotype of a rogue warlock and ruin whatever credibility or goodwill he ever managed to build for himself and Jori. But, most importantly, he just didn''t feel comfortable in enclosed, underground spaces since he''d been trapped inside the dungeon a month earlier. He would get over it, he was sure. Eventually. But he wasn''t ready to sleep like that, buried in stone.


    No, he needed to do this right. And that meant he would have to find a landlord who genuinely didn¡¯t mind having a demon under their roof.


    Bernt sighed. He¡¯d just have to keep trying.


    For now, though, he had another appointment to keep, as much as he would have preferred to go home and crawl under a blanket. He absolutely wasn¡¯t in the mood to get his ass kicked right now.


    ¨C--------


    Holding his wand out to the side, Bernt began humming under his breath, shaping a spell. Therion was standing across from him in the small training arena in the Upper District, a small metal wand held at the ready. Hopefully, the other mage wouldn¡¯t be able to hear him. On the sidelines, Oren and Elyn were betting whether he¡¯d land a hit this time.


    Bernt had stopped trying to fight fair weeks ago, once he finally understood just how wide the skill-gap between the two of them really was. Therion wasn¡¯t any older than him, but he¡¯d been learning to fight since before he¡¯d even learned to touch his own mana. Compared to him, Bernt was a rank amateur.


    Without moving a muscle, Bernt finished casting his first spell. His burning rain investiture didn¡¯t have much of an effect on his whispering wind cantrip, but it did do something. Instead of a simple whisper carried on the wind, Therion was treated to the sudden and disturbing sound of someone whispering nonsense into his ear, accompanied by the sensation of hot, humid breath on the back of his neck and his left ear, where he knew nobody should be standing.


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    He flinched, half-turning, and Bernt savagely pressed his advantage. He flicked his wand forward to cast a fire dart, followed by a glue cantrip to try to lock his opponent in place. He didn¡¯t fully load the spellforms with mana ¨C they wouldn¡¯t seriously injure anyone, but a direct hit from a fire dart would still burn and raise blisters. Anything less and the spells wouldn¡¯t manifest.


    He was much faster than he¡¯d been just a few weeks ago, but it didn¡¯t matter. Nothing landed. Therion turned his startled flinch into a step, avoiding the fire dart that struck the spot where he¡¯d been standing before. At the same time, he whipped his own wand in a quick circular motion, casting a magic missile in an arc to force Bernt to move. He stepped to his left and raised his focus, but felt something grab his ear and pull up savagely.


    With a yelp, he dropped the wand.


    ¡°Agh, shit!¡±


    The spell released him, and he turned his head just in time to see the conjured phantom hand disappear. Therion was a terror with that mage hand, even if it was embarrassing more than actually painful.


    Oren passed a coin to Elyn, glowering at Bernt.


    ¡°Come on, Bernt! This is the second time he¡¯s done that today.¡± he groused.


    Therion waved a hand at the thief. ¡°Oh, leave him alone,¡± he said. ¡°Bernt, that was pretty great! That wind spell was insane, I thought you had backup for a second there. That one can definitely work in a fight if you use it at the right moment.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Bernt said, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. ¡°It didn¡¯t do much to you, though. I need to come up with something better.¡±


    Therion scoffed. ¡°No, you don¡¯t. You¡¯re doing fine. You have all the spells you need, and you¡¯re being creative with what you have. The rest of dueling is mostly about anticipating your opponent. That¡¯s something you can only learn with practice¨C¡±


    ¡°¨Cand by getting my ass kicked over and over again, yes. I remember.¡± Bernt finished.


    ¡°Right!¡± Therion nodded, smiling. He looked over to where the spectators were sitting. ¡°Oren¡±, he called. ¡°You want to have a go?¡±


    Oren stood up, drawing a wooden practice dagger and poking it down into a small bag at his feet to dust it with red chalk along the blade. ¡°I thought you¡¯d never ask.¡±


    Moments later, Bernt stood facing the thief with his wand held out in one hand and the other behind his back, tracing a spellform. ¡°Thief¡±, of course, was a bit of a misnomer. People in Oren¡¯s line of work were generally called thieves because they were responsible for getting their party into places they weren¡¯t supposed to be. According to his friends, a surprising amount of adventuring involved going places where one wasn¡¯t technically allowed to be, even outside of dungeons.


    In actuality, though, any ¡°thief¡± in the Adventurers¡¯ Guild also doubled as a scout, trap-maker and disassembler, and assassin. While Oren wasn¡¯t as dangerous in a straight fight as someone like Furin, he was shockingly fast. Worse, he had a way of breaking his line of sight and then disappearing in ways that couldn¡¯t possibly be natural.


    Usually, Bernt wouldn¡¯t see him again until that stupid wooden dagger was drawing a red line of chalk across his throat. So far, Bernt had never even come close to landing a spell on Oren, but that was going to change today.


    As the lesser fighter, starting the fight was up to him. Sweat beading on his forehead from trying to hold up the mental image of one spellform while casting another, Bernt cast a fire dart toward Oren. It wasn¡¯t well-aimed, and Oren didn¡¯t even try to dodge.


    With a slight frown, Oren exploded into motion, but he wasn¡¯t faster than the speed of thought. Bernt had prepared his response ahead of time. He released mana into the spellform, activating it. With a rushing whomp of displaced air, heat erupted outward from him in all directions. This low-power version of a fire-nova was practically invisible, but at close range it was still hot enough to sting and singe eyebrows. He wasn¡¯t sure if Oren had any resistance to fire, but he was pretty sure that would count as a win.


    If Oren had been standing close enough, that is. Bernt looked around, but didn¡¯t see the thief anywhere.


    Oh no. Did he escape somehow? How could he have possibly moved so quickly? The last he¡¯d seen, Oren was advancing on him at speed. Now, he was just gone. Out of the corner of his eye, Bernt saw something flicker. He threw himself to his side, down onto the ground and heard a soft whistle as something cut through the space above his head. He rolled over and pushed himself up. Oren would be on him at any moment.


    ¡°Agh!¡± Oren shouted in surprise and stumbled forward into Bernt¡¯s field of view. He¡¯d been right behind him, of course. Not for the first time, Bernt wondered how he did that. There was magic involved, he was sure, but not anything like what mages used. When he asked, the thief always just told him it was ¡°trade secrets¡±.


    What was more interesting right now was the imp clinging to Oren¡¯s head and hissing at him threateningly. She stood on his shoulders and held onto his head with both hands, one long, clawed finger poised right in front of his eye.


    ¡°Stop, stop!¡± he called out, and slapped at Jori in annoyance. ¡°You little shit. I had him!¡±


    Jori hopped off, spreading her wings for a short moment before landing next to Bernt.


    ¡°I win!¡± she gloated, jumping up and down excitedly. ¡°I outsneaked the sneaky thief. You didn¡¯t see me coming!¡±


    Oren frowned sourly down at her. ¡°You cheated! This was supposed to be a duel, not a free-for-all. If you want to try that again, I¡¯ll show you how much your sneaking is really worth.¡±


    ¡°No time!¡± Jori replied, grinning triumphantly. ¡°I¡¯m here to get Bernt. We need to see the Great Ed! He called for us.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Bernt asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Jori said, shrugging her shoulders. ¡°He said he had a job for you.¡±


    ¡°On my day off?¡± Bernt groaned. ¡°We need to form a union.¡±

 2.2 Expansion

    ¡°We¡¯re recruiting,¡± Ed said, handing Bernt a stack of fliers. ¡°I had a meeting with Magistrate Gerold this morning and we¡¯re expanding. If what I¡¯m hearing from Iriala about the duergar is true, we need to move quickly.¡±


    ¡°Expanding?¡± Bernt blinked and looked down at the fliers. ¡°I assume it¡¯s not about improving sewer maintenance¡­¡±


    Ed gave him what almost looked like an actual smile. ¡°No. We¡¯re being permanently classified as a second city guard force, reporting directly to the count. Narald wants someone down in the tunnels to keep an eye on general Arice, and we¡¯re in the best position for it, since I was running the defense before the army arrived. Officially, we¡¯re being empowered to manage security in the newly designated ¡°Undercity¡±.¡±


    Bernt stared at his boss. ¡°Uh¡­ What do you mean by Undercity, exactly?¡± he asked, ¡°And does that make us a branch of the city guard?¡±


    ¡°Heh, no," Ed coughed out a smoky laugh. "Righmond didn¡¯t want anything to do with this. A few citizens, mostly dwarves and a few goblins, requested permission to take possession of some chambers down in the tunnels ¨C we might even expand it a bit. This makes us an entirely separate guard force to manage the new subterranean frontier ¨C everything below street level, essentially.¡±


    Bernt blinked, surprised by the news. ¡°So¡­ does this mean we¡¯re being freed from sewer-duty?¡±


    Ed snorted. ¡°Of course not. It¡¯s tradition. The king himself has occasionally exiled mages to the Underkeepers. He¡¯d probably interfere personally if a lesser noble dared to redefine our order''s holy purpose like that. Narald is taking a big risk with this as it is.¡±


    Bernt started to respond, but Ed interrupted him with a wave, pointing at the fliers.


    ¡°I want you two to pin these up on lantern poles around the city and see if any of the guard stations will let you put them up on their doors. We need capable fighters down in those tunnels, and ideally some people with a bit of engineering skill. It¡¯s going to take some work to make those tunnels livable and I need people knocking down the door to help us get it done yesterday. I already called in everybody else who I could spare. You''re starting in the Lower District, but don''t hesitate to post fliers elsewhere as long as nobody else has gotten there first.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Bernt replied, but then hesitated. ¡°Uh, Ed? Does this mean we have a budget? Are we going to be properly armed for this?¡±


    If he could get some proper fighting equipment through the Underkeepers, he¡¯d be in a much better position, overall. He could afford to look into more expensive places to live, for one. Or, if he really tightened his belt, he might even be able to afford membership to the Mages¡¯ Guild.


    Ed nodded. ¡°Some, yes. Not nearly enough, of course, but it never is.¡±


    ¡°Great!¡± Bernt smiled and nodded.


    He headed out the door at a measured pace with Jori on his heels, trying not to look too excited at the news. He didn¡¯t really want to consider it, but there was another opportunity here as well. If he really had to, he might be able to find a place to live down in this new Undercity ¨C once it was made livable, at least.


    He shivered at the thought and his stomach twinged unpleasantly. He didn¡¯t want to live underground if he could help it. The memory of being trapped down there, hiding from kobold patrols and desperate to escape, was still fresh in his mind. But it was something. Maybe.


    ¨C-------


    Unsure of where to start, Bernt headed for the guard station nearest to the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters with Jori. Ed had started sending her out on tasks alone sometimes over the past few weeks, but she still didn¡¯t go wandering around alone in plain sight, where everyone could see her. There were people out there who might react violently to a lone demon wandering around. Worse, they both knew that whatever rogue warlock had originally summoned Jori was still out there ¨C and he¡¯d already tried to send something to kill her once. It was best to be careful.


    They posted two of the fliers at busy-looking street-corners as they went. The guard station was a small building positioned right at the unofficial border between the lower administrative district and the crafter¡¯s district. Bernt found a man sitting in front of the door when they arrived at the guard station and waved to get his attention.


    ¡°Hey there!¡± he called, trying to sound friendly. ¡°Can I ask you for a favor?¡±


    The guard didn¡¯t look familiar, which he supposed wasn¡¯t unusual. He¡¯d made the acquaintance of several city guards during and after the kobold invasion a month ago, but there were hundreds of guards in the city. This one was a grizzled-looking senior guardsman, probably the one in charge of the station here. He leaned back casually on a stool, back to the wall of the building, but his eyes were alert and flicked from Bernt to Jori and back to Bernt again.


    ¡°Underkeeper.¡± The man replied by way of greeting. He leaned his head to the side in a noncommittal gesture and scratched at his short, scruffy gray beard. ¡°That all depends on the favor. What do you want?¡±


    Bernt held up the flier. ¡°I¡¯d like to pin up one of my fliers on your door. We¡¯re hiring.¡±


    The man grunted and leaned forward, peering at the paper to read it. ¡°Well. How about that. Seeking sanitation engineers, military veterans, retired adventurers yadda yadda for permanent positions¡­ maintenance, security and law enforcement in the ¡°Halfbridge Undercity¡±. What¡¯s all that about?¡±


    ¡°New expansion project from the count.¡± Bernt explained, trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about. ¡°I guess he didn¡¯t want to burden the guard with it, but they¡¯re going to settle part of the former dungeon. The bits that they can claim are technically within city limits, most likely.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± the man grunted. ¡°Fair enough. But no. We¡¯re hiring too, over here. We lost a lot of people in the attack. If I let you start recruiting right from my front door¡­ well, that¡¯s just getting in my own way." He leaned back against the wall and adjusted the short sword on his belt to keep it from getting caught on his stool. "Not going to happen.¡±


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    Bernt didn¡¯t really know what to say to that ¨C the man had a point. He nodded at him and turned to go to find Jori pinning a flier to a lantern pole less than ten steps away, behind a small cart that someone had parked at the side of the street. The guard couldn''t see her very well from his position. Looking away quickly, he started to walk away. Jori would catch up.


    ¡°Hey kid,¡± the guard called after him.


    Bernt turned, trying not to look guilty. "Yeah?"


    He hadn''t done anything wrong. This was a public street, it wasn''t illegal to put up a flier. There was no reason to feel nervous right now.


    ¡°Far as I know the stations in the Upper District didn¡¯t lose anyone at all. Lots of retired adventurers up there, too. You should check with them.¡±


    Bernt inclined his head, thanked the man and continued on his way, breathing a small sigh of relief.


    He was not going to the Upper District, though. That was terrible advice. Why bother trying to recruit wealthy retirees? He would work his way through the Lower District over toward the Gateside Market. He didn¡¯t know where to find unemployed engineers, but there were hundreds of former adventurers in the city, and most of those weren¡¯t rolling in gold coins like those in the Upper District. Many retired out of necessity, or simply because their families got tired of them being gone all the time and in danger.


    Of course, being an underkeeper wasn¡¯t danger-free either. The sewers regularly spawned mutant creatures and slimes, and served as an entry-point to the city for more dangerous things that tried to crawl up the drainage system from the river. Still, it might be a good option for a former adventurer. The stigma that followed the Underkeepers wouldn''t necessarily transfer to non-mages.


    The original underkeepers had been Mage Academy wash-outs, too incompetent for the military or the guild, but good enough to clean up the sorts of things that tended to cause problems for common guards. From there, exiling real mages to the Underkeepers had quickly developed as a way to retroactively mark them as failures ¨C politically or socially if not truly in practice of their craft. But that wouldn''t really apply a washed up adventurer ¨C how could it? Any social or political connections who cared about that sort of thing were completely irrelevant to them.


    And that was probably exactly what Ed was banking on.


    ¡°We are going to the market?¡± Jori said, interpreting his intentions through their bond. Bernt nodded in confirmation. Former adventurers who weren''t already part of the guard would be crafters, merchants or even common laborers. And the best place to apply years of adventuring experience while working in some different field was to do so adjacent to the adventuring industry ¨C at or near the Gateside Market.


    ¡°I think we can find more applicants around there than in the upper district, at least.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Jori agreed. ¡°We should talk to Grixit!¡±


    Bernt missed a step and turned to look at Jori, who kept walking without him. ¡°What?¡± He hurried to catch up. ¡°Why Grixit? Jori, he¡¯s not going to want to be an underkeeper.¡±


    Jori snorted. ¡°The boss said that dwarves and goblins wanted to move into the underground. If they want to live there, then they will probably work there, too! He can show the flier to other goblins. It makes sense!¡±


    Considering it, Bernt couldn''t really find fault with her logic. It was a strange idea ¨C there were no goblins in the regular city guard ¨C but why shouldn''t there be? It was worth a try, at least.


    ¡°Yea, alright,¡± he conceded. ¡°But let¡¯s stop by that guard station over by the Adventurers¡¯ Guild first.¡± They wouldn¡¯t all turn him down, he was sure.


    Bernt had his doubts that goblins would actually want to fight for the Beseri government. Their people had a long and very unpleasant history with the Beseri military. On the other hand, the Underkeepers were not the military, and if they knew they were going to be guarding other goblin civilians... Maybe it would work.


    ¨C------


    Grixit stared down at the flier thoughtfully, then looked up at Bernt with furrowed brows.


    ¡°There aren¡¯t any goblins in the city guard, you know. Not that I ever heard. Do you think they¡¯d really hire any of us?¡±


    Bernt threw a glance over at Jori. ¡°Well, maybe. I think so. We¡¯re not the city guard, so why wouldn¡¯t we? And this new Undercity sounds like it¡¯s going to house goblins and dwarves, mostly. Why wouldn¡¯t there be goblin guards?¡±


    Grixit scoffed derisively, but the effect was spoiled a bit by the smile that he¡¯d failed to suppress. ¡°You know exactly why, you big idiot. But it¡¯s worth a try, maybe.¡±


    ¡°Great!¡± Bernt said, smiling. This might actually work. Since Jori had suggested it about an hour ago, Bernt had warmed up to the idea more and more. Goblins were used to working underground. And while they weren¡¯t dwarves, they also had experience building underground infrastructure. Moreover, they were treated as an underclass in Besermark, so the prospect of a steady government job with reasonable wages would probably be a lot more enticing to them than your average applicant. That, and unlike for everyone else, becoming an underkeeper might actually improve their social and political status.


    The goblin finished examining the flier and set it down on his table with a little grunt.


    ¡°Hmph. I¡¯ll keep your flier and show it around a bit. But¡­ you can see what the count is doing with this, right?¡± Grixit said, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Bernt replied, nodding. ¡°He¡¯s trying to put us in closer proximity to the army, so he can get a better look at what general Arice is doing in the dungeon. That, and he¡¯ll probably want us to try to get first-hand information about duergar activity near the city. I can¡¯t imagine that he likes having all of his news filtered through the military.¡±


    Grixit snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t care about that! No. I mean this new Undercity.¡± He pointed a knobby finger straight down. ¡°That dungeon is a new foreign border, and it¡¯s directly on the city¡¯s doorstep. That¡¯s a real danger for the count¡¯s precious citizens ¨C the ones that pay lots of taxes and have influence. Now, he¡¯s ¡®letting¡¯ a bunch of non-humans move into that new border region. The poorest and least important ones, naturally ¨C the ones that don¡¯t own homes or can¡¯t find a better place to live. Are you getting it?¡±


    Bernt swallowed. He hadn¡¯t really thought about it like that.


    ¡°You mean it¡¯s meant to be a buffer population, to help keep the rest of the city safe.¡± Bernt said slowly, a queasy feeling growing in his stomach. ¡°They don¡¯t want enemies tunneling straight out of the ground with no warning again. So the count is going to put some people in the way. People who he can afford to lose without losing face at court.¡±


    Grixit nodded. ¡°Yup. And while no noble wants to lose combat-capable people, he¡¯s going to dump the cheapest and most politically expendable organization he can find down there to protect them ¨C you. And that¡¯s why they might actually let goblins join your new little guard organization.¡±


    Bernt groaned inwardly. Why did everything have to be so underhanded and, well¡­ screwed up? Did Ed know about this?


    The moment he considered it, he knew the answer. Of course Ed would know. The old man had looked like he just won a hundred gold in a game of cards. He and Iriala had probably cooked this whole thing up to legitimize and expand the Underkeepers.


    ¡°Oh, relax!¡± Grixit grinned at him. ¡°This is a good thing. It sounds like we¡¯re going to get some actual real estate, and that¡¯s nothing to sneeze at, no matter if there are enemies nearby. We know how to look after ourselves.¡± Then, a little reluctantly, he added. ¡°So do the dwarves, really. They don¡¯t get along with the duergar, either. And they build great underground defenses.¡±


    This was about trade-offs. Some people would get a free or cheap place to live, but if the duergar ever broke through the army¡¯s defenses, they¡¯d be the first to know. The Underkeepers got to develop the order into a more serious organization, but they¡¯d also be beneath the city guard, both literally and metaphorically. Separate, but serving the city¡¯s new literal underclass.

 2.3 Preparations

    Bernt visualized the spellform in his mind, using a finger to trace it in the air from memory for the first time. He kept his eyes closed, both to help him concentrate and to keep himself from peeking at the scroll in his lap.


    He was sitting outside the gates, at his favorite studying spot down by the river. Jori was doing what she called ¡°training exercises¡± with her ¡°intern¡± ¨C a small kobold named Gnugg that she¡¯d taken under her wing after finding him in the dungeon last month. Surprisingly, both she and the kobold had proven less likely to get into trouble when they were spending time together. Farrin, the matron mother of the Halfbridge orphanage, had grudgingly allowed it at the kobold''s insistence.


    As a side benefit, this new arrangement meant that Bernt could finally get some uninterrupted free time to practice his spellcasting. Experimenting with new fire spells indoors was never a good idea, and he didn¡¯t actually know what this one did. What might ''cold fire'' be good for? Was it literally cold? There was no way to know without trying. He¡¯d asked Ed about it two weeks earlier and the archmage had just waved him off with a gruff ¡°Do I look like some kind of damned pyromancer wizard?¡± and sent him off on his rounds.


    Dayle didn¡¯t know either, nor Fiora. That either made it a rare and potentially very useful spell, or random garbage that someone had invented as an experiment or something. There was no way to know without trying it.


    Considering that Bernt had found it in a trash heap, he guessed it would likely be the latter. Still, it was a fire spell. Even if it was useless now, maybe he¡¯d be able to use some principle in its spellform to help him in the future. It had been far easier to untangle than the unfamiliar principles and bewildering runic configurations used in its uncastable transmutation spellforms.


    So, in an effort to finally push his capabilities further, he¡¯d spent the last two weeks meticulously memorizing the scroll. Testing was the next step.


    A mage didn''t technically have to trace the spellform in the air to cast a spell. In fact, no physical motion was required at all. Hand motions, whistling, humming, chanting, or whatever were just a mnemonic devices to help the caster visualize the spellform more perfectly. The runes and symbols that made up a spell didn¡¯t just have to be placed in their proper order, they had to be assembled into a two or three-dimensional image, depending on the spell, and each component had to be oriented and proportioned correctly for the spell to work properly. A focus could help with that a bit, but any significant mistake could cause it to fail, or worse, lead to unpredictable effects.


    To cast the spell properly now, though, he had to go further. Concentrating, he found the foreign elements that had installed themselves into the spellform ¨C the influence of his investiture ¨C and removed them one by one.


    By the time he finished, sweat was beading on his forehead, but he¡¯d done it. The spell was ready. With an effort of will, Bernt poured power into the spellform, activating it. Then, he mentally hurled it up and away from himself as he opened his eyes.


    A cone of blueish-gray flame erupted outward, shooting up into the air. It wasn¡¯t as bright as normal fire, nor as loud. Pyromancy was, as a rule, not a quiet form of magic. Conjured fire was usually accompanied by anything from a soft woosh to a thunderous boom, depending on the size of the flame and its heat.


    This spell, though, was silent.


    It also didn¡¯t seem to radiate any heat, which Bernt supposed would make sense for something called ¡°cold fire¡±. The spell was exactly what it sounded like. Fire, yes, but cold. That sounded both nonsensical to Bernt and useless. But, not releasing any heat didn¡¯t necessarily mean it couldn¡¯t burn anything. It was magic, after all. He should try casting it at something, maybe a bit of wood. Right at that moment, though, he didn¡¯t have the concentration to try casting it again.


    He got up, taking in the view as the sun set over the hills and threw his shadow out over the river behind him. It was beautiful, but he wouldn¡¯t take the time to enjoy it properly today. He needed to get something to eat and then continue his search for a new place to live. He¡¯d given up searching the area around the docks weeks ago ¨C Rina had apparently spread the word that he was some kind of dangerous warlock, or the same rumor that had seen him evicted had reached their ears.


    Now he¡¯d have to start looking outside the Lower District entirely, which was a problem. That was where all the cheap tenements were. He¡¯d have to try the crafters¡¯ district now. The temple district only housed priests and temple-employees, so that was a non-starter. The Upper District was out of the question ¨C even sleeping in someone¡¯s shed in the upper district would probably break his budget. It wasn¡¯t meant for people who spent their time on pedestrian things like work.


    Sure, someone like Therion or his dad might technically have jobs, but they didn¡¯t do them for the money. It hardly counted.


    ¨C--------


    Ed sorted through the mail by urgency, giving each letter only a quick scan before putting it in the appropriate pile on his desk. A drain at a tannery just outside the walls had clogged, and the smell was driving nearby businesses to close their doors and file complaints with the count ¨C urgent. Someone had noticed that a grate covering a storm drain in the crafter¡¯s district was rusted through ¨C forward to city maintenance. The alchemists¡¯ guild was following up on an alchemical spill in the crafters¡¯ district. Someone had dumped a potion cocktail a few weeks ago that mutated a nest of cockroaches into some kind of monstrous parody of their more mundane selves.


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    Fortunately, the pests in question had promptly climbed through the pipes and infested the alchemy shop, rather than nearby residential homes ¨C not urgent. Besides, his Underkeepers weren¡¯t officially certified to deal with alchemical spills yet, anyway.


    Ed stared at the stack tiredly, hesitating for a moment. Then, he reached over and moved the complaint over to his ¡°urgent¡± pile. The cockroaches would multiply quickly. Besides, it had been over a month since Theresa¡¯s stupid stunt with Bernt ¨C he needed to get the certifications done or the magistrate would start breathing down his neck.


    Ashing his pipe in the bucket next to his desk, he repacked and lit it again, using the familiar ritual to soothe his nerves. It didn¡¯t really work.


    He was still pushing down his annoyance at the Alchemists¡¯ Guild as he opened the next letter and began scanning it, so it took him a moment to register that it wasn¡¯t just another job.


    Leaning back, he checked the header and then began to read it again carefully. It was a copy of an official message to Iriala from the head branch of the Mages¡¯ Guild in Teres. She or one of her people must have dropped off a copy for him while he was out.


    Archmage Iriala,


    Thank you for keeping me in the loop regarding the ongoing developments in Halfbridge. I spoke with Guildmaster Deirin of the Adventurers¡¯ Guild and I thought you might be interested to know that several parties have reported hostile encounters with small groups of duergar in the Azure Caverns and the Depths below. When I approached the Solicitors¡¯ office in Teres, they told me they were already investigating demonic activity in the Depths. Despite this, they seemed unwilling to definitively name the Duergar presence as its cause, as your local branch head apparently did.


    There are unconfirmed rumors of sightings beneath Loamfurth as well. Deirin is working to get more eyes down below to keep an eye on the situation as it develops, and we¡¯re working together to ensure that the more martial temple orders are at least making some quiet preparations for a large-scale conflict.


    The King has been made aware of the situation, but you know how long it can take for the court to move on a threat. Several guilds and prominent personages have already taken note and are quietly suggesting that we¡¯re looking for an excuse to arm up in order to grow our influence or even seize power from the nobility. I urge you to prepare, but be careful. We can¡¯t upset the political balance, or we¡¯ll be fighting each other by the time the Duergar come spilling out of the Depths.


    Best Regards


    Archmage Paolos


    Ed put the letter down with a snort. As if they needed the reminder. They were the ones with a Duergar army stationed less than a mile away, even if they had one of their own standing in the way. While several of their own local guilds were doing their best to give him a headache every damned day, nobody really doubted the threat that the dwarves represented.


    When he and Iriala had presented the idea of creating a new guard force to the count, the old count had practically jumped at the chance.


    Creating any kind of extraneous defense force was a dangerous move for a Beseri noble ¨C it might be considered a threat to the King¡¯s absolute authority over military matters, after all. So, Narald¡¯s eagerness and his willingness to take the risk said a lot about how seriously he was taking the Duergar threat. It, perhaps, said even more about his confidence in General Arice, who was tasked with protecting the city of Halfbridge from that threat.


    It likely didn¡¯t hurt that Iriala had gotten Guard Commander Righmond to sign off on the proposal before they presented it. The lump of a man wanted nothing to do with real work, never mind anything genuinely risky. He was more than happy to throw his weight behind the idea of putting the Underkeepers between his guard and the enemy army. Especially since failing to back the proposal would have put him in charge of security for Narald¡¯s new Undercity project by default. That would include not only spending a lot of time underground, it also meant liaising with the Beseri army on behalf of the Count.


    Considering how tense the relationship between the Count and general Arice already was, Righmond could be forgiven for his reluctance to take on that particular job. Ed didn¡¯t really want it either, but it was fine. Talking to annoying people was just the price of doing business.


    Now, Ed just had to hope that he¡¯d actually find some reasonably qualified applicants to join his new Underkeeper guard force. Who would possibly want to join an order that, until now, had served as little more than a convenient place to exile politically inconvenient mages?


    The archmages¡¯ stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn¡¯t had dinner yet and it was past time to leave all this crap for tomorrow. There was a new restaurant that a few sea elves from the Vorellian Isles had just opened in the Upper District and he found that he was in the mood for some overly elaborate cuisine. Heaving himself up out of his chair, he put the letter down on the table, re-tied his robe to keep out the evening chill and grabbed his scarf from the hook on the door.


    He stepped out into the main room of the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters and stopped in his tracks. There were dim lights on ¨C small candles that someone had placed on a bench that just barely illuminated two small figures with eyes that glowed in the dark like those of a cat.


    With a gesture, Ed cast a force barrier in front of himself and followed up with a light over his shoulder.. It illuminated the two goblins, both of whom shrank back in annoyance at the brightness. One went so far as to hold up a hand to block the glare.


    Neither made any move or said anything for a moment. Then one, the elder of the two, leaned forward and flicked the barrier with a finger, causing little ripples of light to emanate out from the point of impact. The balding goblin had a bit of gray in what was left of his black hair, but wore a motley collection of armor that looked well used. The younger one was dressed in a normal tunic and stared at him wide-eyed, apparently surprised at his reaction.


    Ed hesitated, trying to make sense of the scene. What the hell?


    ¡°Hmph.¡± Ed grunted, dismissing the barrier. ¡°We¡¯re closed. What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Archmage.¡± The elder one nodded in greeting, apparently not in the least intimidated by Ed¡¯s display of magic. ¡°Word is that you¡¯re looking for guards for the new Undercity. We¡¯re looking to join the Underkeepers.¡±

 2.4 Warlock

    Bernt shuffled into the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters early the next morning, still trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes as Jori skipped along behind him. The little demon didn¡¯t need to sleep very much, and her chipper attitude always grated on him in the mornings. It was one of the reasons he didn¡¯t like getting up early in the first place. But over the past month he¡¯d gotten into the habit of showing up shortly after dawn, like most of the others. He needed the later afternoon hours to study, train and look for a new apartment.


    When he entered, he found Ed in the main room with Dayle and Fiora going over their tasks for the day. Dayle, who was facing the door, gave him a cheerful, morning-person wave.


    ¡°Morning Bernt! You look plumb tuckered out for a fellow who just got here. Look like you could use a cup of coffee there.¡±


    Bernt grunted. The older man was playing up his energetic morning persona again to mess with him. He shook his head wearily and grumbled. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    He would be, he knew. As soon as the sun rose properly, anyway. By now, both Ed and Fiora had turned his way.


    ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± Ed began, ¡°I wanted to ask you ¨C where the hells did you post those fliers yesterday? I¡¯ve already had four goblins come by here looking for work and exactly one dwarf. That¡¯s pretty damned peculiar considering that this is almost entirely a human town.¡±


    Bernt just shrugged, but Jori stepped in front of him, puffing out her chest proudly.


    ¡°It was my idea!¡± she bragged excitedly. ¡°You said that the new Undercity would have dwarves and goblins. We brought one of the fliers to our goblin friend at the market!¡±


    Ed grunted noncommittally. ¡°I see... and what about everywhere else?¡±


    Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°Well, we covered the entire Lower District and a bit more besides. We posted fliers at several guard stations ¨C a few thought we¡¯d get in the way of their own recruitment efforts, but the gate guards especially were friendly enough. Besides that, we put something up at most of the major intersections, and I glued a few to a wall across from the Adventurers¡¯ Guild¡¯s notice board.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm.¡± Ed hummed pensively. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll see who turns up over the next few days.¡±


    ¡°You know, the little runt might actually be on to something.¡± Dayle said thoughtfully. ¡°Makes sense that goblins and dwarves would join up if they¡¯re protecting their own communities. Why not take them?¡±


    Fiora snorted before Ed could answer. ¡°Dwarves, sure. But goblins? We have to sell this to the public somehow. There¡¯s a reason the city guard doesn¡¯t have any goblins in it ¨C people don¡¯t trust them.¡±


    Dayle shrugged. ¡°Who cares? They¡¯ll be well out of sight down in the tunnels. Not much of a scandal if it''s literally buried. We need people who can fight, and goblins are meaner than a wet sack of demons when it¡¯s time to draw blood.¡±


    Jori cocked her head at the odd analogy, but didn¡¯t comment.


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to help our public relations any.¡± Ed grumbled. ¡°But we might not have much choice at this rate. We¡¯ll see who comes.¡±


    Just as he said it, the door opened again, and a human woman stepped inside. She was young, about Bernt¡¯s own age, and dressed simply in sturdy boots and an impeccably clean and pressed tunic in dark gray.


    Bernt recognized her ¨C she was a warlock.


    Stepping forward, she gave a quick, precise bow toward Ed.


    ¡°Archmage Thurdred, my name is Josie, an associate solicitor reporting as ordered, compliments of the Solicitors¡¯ Office.¡±


    Dayle and Fiora exchanged a puzzled glance and frowned at the young woman in unison. Ed just offered her a polite nod.


    ¡°Ah, perfect. I suppose that means Radast has heard the news.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± she said, looking around at the others in the room a little suspiciously. When she saw Bernt, her mouth turned down a little at the corners. Apparently she remembered him. Great. ¡°They are massing down below and several of our associated offices in other cities have noted an uptick in demonic activity.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Ed nodded and scratched at his chin for a second, glanced at Jori, and then back at Josie. ¡±Welcome to the Underkeepers. You¡¯ll be providing some legal and bureaucratic support for us, but your day-to-day is going to be as part of our new guard force, so you can keep an eye on the situation down below for us. Can you fight?¡±


    ¡°I can,¡± she answered with a sharp nod, apparently not feeling the need to elaborate.


    ¡°Ed,¡± Fiora said, eying Josie a little warily. ¡°When were you going to tell us that you¡¯re bringing a solicitor into the Underkeepers?¡±


    ¡°Right now.¡± Ed said reasonably. ¡°We have a demon running around in plain view. Having a solicitor in the organization is going to help with that. Josie¡¯s mere presence will help us suppress rumors that Jori is operating without legitimate oversight.¡±


    Bernt could feel the imp¡¯s annoyance at that ¨C she didn¡¯t want a minder. But she didn¡¯t let it show on her face as Ed went on.


    ¡°Iri and I negotiated for the Solicitors¡¯ support in dealing with the demonic duergar threat as part of our arrangement regarding Jori¡¯s paperwork.¡±


    ¡°Ed.¡± Fiora said again, this time with a clear note of warning. ¡°That paperwork was done days before we found out about the dwarves.¡±


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    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Ed said, smiling. A smile just looked wrong on him. Fortunately, it dissolved back into a more neutral scowl a moment later as he turned back to the warlock. ¡°We have a few days to wait until the army turns over the space that we have marked out for the new Undercity, so I¡¯m sending you out with Bernt today on maintenance rounds.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ wait a minute.¡± Bernt interrupted, feeling more than a little alarmed at the direction this was taking. ¡°Is this really a good idea? Weren¡¯t you just talking about public relations?¡±


    Josie gave him a withering stare and opened her mouth to answer, but Ed was quicker.


    ¡°You¡¯re damned right I was. You have no idea what kinds of complaints I''ve been getting from jumpy citizens who see you running around with Jori out there. The two of you are going to get well acquainted ¨C being seen with a solicitor can only help with that situation. I would suggest a bit more politeness on your part, Bernt. We have a lot of work to do on that score. We didn¡¯t get the Solicitors¡¯ support for nothing, either.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Bernt flushed and swallowed. He looked over to meet Josie¡¯s cool gaze. ¡°Uh. I apologize, that was rude.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Ed said. ¡°Now. Jori, you¡¯re with Fiora today. I¡¯ll put the interns to work here for the day. Get out of here.¡±


    Jori nodded and skipped over to Fiora, who was already moving toward the door. Bernt thought she wouldn¡¯t like Ed taking her minion for the day, but she seemed satisfied. He supposed that she liked working with the other mage. The little imp had been quick to endear herself to the other underkeepers by taking over a lot of the more onerous, sewer-centric activities when she was assigned with them. Uriah had transferred to the Loamfurth Underkeepers two weeks earlier, leaving nobody here who really objected to her presence anymore. Several, like Fiora, seemed even to have grown attached to her. It was a best-case scenario, as far as Bernt was concerned.


    ¡°Alright. Bernt, you and Josie here are going on rounds in the Lower District, and there¡¯s a tannery out in the Dyers District that needs a clog sorted out.¡± He held out a roll of paper. ¡°The report¡¯s in there.¡±


    Bernt accepted the list with a slight grimace. Then, offering Josie his best attempt at a diplomatic smile, he said. ¡°Alright then, let¡¯s get started.¡±


    ¨C-----


    The Dyer¡¯s district was an area outside the walls that housed industries like tanning and dyeing ¨C businesses that were too pungent to be allowed inside the walls. Of course, people still lived there. The dyers and tanners themselves were largely immune to the stench and it was one of the few areas where goblins or orcs could find a roof to sleep under. Its sewer system was blocked off from the main system by a system of sturdy, steel grates where the tunnels passed underneath the walls, expensively enchanted to resist corrosion.


    ¡°So, uh¡­ what can you do?¡± Bernt asked, trying to break the awkward silence as the two of them made their way toward the southern gate.


    Josie arched a well-groomed, black eyebrow at him.


    ¡°...as a warlock, I mean.¡± Bernt added.


    ¡°Ah,¡± she replied. ¡°Well. I¡¯m a solicitor. We mostly specialize in managing information. I have a contract from the fourth hell that primarily gives me access to a soul-tracking ability, as well as some minor combat support.¡±


    Bernt swallowed. ¡°Uh¡­ okay, great.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure how useful tracking souls would be to anyone, but he supposed he didn¡¯t really know very much about warlocks ¨C not beyond the horror stories, anyway. ¡°How come you don¡¯t have a demon with you?¡±


    Josie sniffed and shook her head slightly. ¡°Service-contracts are rare. They¡¯re expensive and they normally have a limited term, so you have to renew them. It¡¯s a terrible way to build long-term power. My contract gives me permanent access to a few abilities. It¡¯s a lot safer. A demon that¡¯s not on this plane anymore can¡¯t do very much to subvert your contract after it¡¯s made. It¡¯s not as powerful as having a pacted ally, but it¡¯s bought and paid for. ¡±


    ¡°With souls¡­¡± Bernt said, not fully able to hide his discomfort.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Josie confirmed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. ¡°With souls."


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that.¡± Bernt said a little defensively. ¡°I mean¡­ do you know what happens to them?¡± He¡¯d seen Jori feeding on whatever those soul remnants were that the kobolds left behind when they died.


    The warlock watched him warily for a moment. ¡°How long were you planning to live with an unbound demon before you did any research on them? This is basics ¨C something you could learn from a bestiary. They digest souls, take an aspect of power from them and then pass the soul on through the hells. They all work that way, in some fashion.¡±


    Bernt frowned. He didn''t have a bestiary. Bestiaries were very expensive, especially ones with reliable information. So, they didn¡¯t destroy souls, at least according to the warlocks. He supposed they would be in the best position to know. Bernt didn¡¯t know very much about demons or soul magic, but he did know that most of the temples tended to take a worst-case view of anything infernal. Street preachers often railed against demonic influences and the hells¡¯ desire to destroy the immortal souls of the faithful.


    ¡°So.¡± Josie asked after a moment, her tone carefully neutral. ¡°Why do you keep a demon around if you¡¯re so paranoid about warlocks?¡±


    Bernt scoffed. ¡°She was practically a baby ¨C I wasn¡¯t just going to kill her. I¡¯m not a monster. Besides, I can feel her mind through the familiar bond. She¡¯s not evil, and she doesn¡¯t deserve this kind of treatment. From the public or from the Solicitors. Doesn¡¯t mean I want to go around making deals for infernal power. It¡¯s unprofessional for a mage.¡±


    Josie stared at him, taken aback. ¡°You¡­ what?¡± She looked away, shook her head, took a few steps and threw up her hands.


    ¡°What?¡± Bernt asked, annoyed now.


    ¡°You¡¯re. An. Idiot.¡± She declared, emphasizing each word. Then she just kept walking.


    Bernt wrestled down his growing irritation and followed. Of course a warlock wouldn¡¯t understand something like compassion, or a mage¡¯s professional pride. It was ridiculous to expect anything else.


    Passing through the gate, the two made their way into the Dyers¡¯ District. The tannery in question was located on the east side, near the river. It wasn¡¯t hard to find ¨C they just had to follow their noses to where the smell was strongest. Bernt knocked on the door, but it looked like no one was there. In fact, the whole street seemed abandoned. They would have to approach the clog from below.


    Bernt looked around for the nearest access shaft and found it over a hundred strides away, at a small intersection. Lifting the metal cover, he eyed Josie in her impeccably clean clothes, with her long, glossy dark hair spilling down over her shoulders and tried to keep the doubt off of his face.


    He had a feeling that she was not going to like this. But Ed had said to show her the ropes.


    ¡°Ehm. We¡¯re going down there. This is going to get pretty messy.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know,¡± Josie said, glaring at him. ¡°What¡¯s your point?¡±


    ¡°You might want to tie your hair up.¡± He said carefully. ¡°Sometimes, you can¡¯t even get the smell out with magic at the end of the day.¡±


    Her expression lightened. ¡°Right.¡± She pulled a large handkerchief from her pocket and tied her hair up with practiced efficiency.


    Now that Bernt was paying attention, he realized that she didn¡¯t seem particularly bothered by the stench ¨C even here. She had a strong stomach. He didn¡¯t want to think about what that said about the kinds of things that warlocks got up to.


    A minute later, both of them sloshed through knee-deep muck that had backed up behind whatever was obstructing the drainage system downstream from them. Bernt didn¡¯t dare use fire magic here ¨C the air was so foul that it might ignite at the first spark. So he began casting a traditional mage light to send out in front of them.


    He almost had the spell finished when he felt a tap on his shoulder.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Josie hissed. ¡°There¡¯s something down there!¡±


    But it was too late. As the words left her mouth, the spell activated. A steady blue light pierced the gloomy darkness around them and shone off of the eyes of something in front of them ¨C something as big as a bear, and equally brown and furry and angry, with huge, pointy saber teeth that absolutely did not belong on a beaver.

 2.5 Skinwalker

    The monstrous beaver creature barreled toward them like a runaway horse. Conjuring fire here was a bad idea, but he wasn¡¯t fast enough with anything else. Clearing the incendiary influence of his investiture out of a spell on the fly would take too long.


    Deciding to take the risk, Bernt raised his pyromancer¡¯s wand to cast. Or, he tried to. Just as he moved, he found himself pushed against the moist, cold wall by Josie as she squeezed around him in the narrow tunnel and planted her feet.


    Bernt could only watch, dumbfounded, as the creature bore down on her, driving a bow wave of unmentionable filth in front of it. Was she trying to get herself killed?


    Before it could reach her, Josie opened her mouth and screeched. The sound was high-pitched, penetrating, and deeply, fundamentally, inhumanly wrong. Bernt¡¯s blood froze in his veins and painful, horrible memories consumed his mind. The terror of running for his life in a dark, trap-riddled maze. That awful moment of despair he felt waking up bound and captured by an enemy. The yawning chasm of grief that opened somewhere in a little boy¡¯s chest as he realized that his mother wouldn''t wake up, that she wasn''t going to wake up.


    The creature felt it too and it stopped. It tried to back up awkwardly in the confined space, but Josie pressed forward and lashed out with a bare hand, her fingernails suddenly long, dark, and radiating an icy, psychic cold that Bernt could feel from three steps away. They left only shallow cuts in the beast, but depth didn¡¯t matter.


    The monstrous rodent whined pitifully, a low tortured sound as it continued to back up. The sound turned into a growl and back into an agonized, shuddering whine. A few seconds later it collapsed down into the sludge, its head going under, and went still.


    Bernt stared, disbelieving at the scene. Josie shook her clawed hand, restoring it to its normal appearance and turned back toward him. She looked at him with an expression of actual human concern and Bernt wondered what he must look like.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that. I couldn¡¯t let you throw around fire down here.¡± She gestured around vaguely, still breathing hard. ¡°Too dangerous with the gasses.¡±


    Bernt nodded, still too rattled to talk. He wondered for a moment how she¡¯d known that he was about to cast fire magic, but decided that it wasn¡¯t worth it.


    Instead of answering, he did what he should have done in the first place with a backed-up sewer. He collected himself and hummed out an aeromancy spell, sending a soft breeze down the tunnel. It wouldn¡¯t continue for long and it wouldn¡¯t help much with the smell, but it would at least clear out the worst of any flammable gasses while they cleared out the blockage.


    Josie was still looking at him, waiting for a response.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he said, even though it really, really wasn¡¯t. ¡°What was that thing?¡±


    ¡°Not sure,¡± she shrugged, stepping toward the corpse to get a better look. ¡°But I sensed two different souls, so I¡¯d guess some kind of monstrous parasite, or a spiritual possession or something.¡±


    She poked at the pile of unmoving fur with a booted foot. Nothing happened.


    Collecting himself, Bernt moved to join her and then sent his light out ahead of them.


    ¡°Uh. Is that a dam over there?¡±


    Sure enough, the creature had actually dammed up the sewer. The blockage was built from a collection of garbage, sticks and leathery hides that it must have somehow stolen from the tannery above. Bernt sighed. This was going to take them hours to haul up and out of the sewer.


    ¡°Skins¡­¡± Josie said, thoughtfully. ¡°Hold on a second.¡±


    Turning around, she sloshed back over to the beaver monster and tugged fruitlessly on its pelt, first on one side, then the other. She obviously wasn¡¯t going to be able to move the huge creature, it was far too heavy. With a quiet sigh, Bernt moved to help her. Before he got there, however, Josie stumbled backward, splashing water all over the front of Bernt¡¯s robes, dragging a wet, disgusting hide back with her. It was massive, bigger than an expensive blanket and very much the wrong color. While the beaver had been brown, this fur had a distinctive golden color, like that of a mountain lion.


    ¡°Ha!¡± the warlock crowed. ¡°I knew it! It¡¯s a skinwalker. Or an accidental one, anyway.¡±


    Bernt stopped and frowned, trying to ignore the black water seeping into the front of his robes. ¡°We don¡¯t have skinwalkers. And there¡¯s no way that was a person.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Josie said, waving away his protests. ¡°I mean it was a beaver wearing a ritual hide. It probably just crawled underneath it at some point. I''d bet ten gold marks that the tannery up there probably works with the Berserkers¡¯ Guild. Berserker armor uses soul magic to harness power from other creatures. These kinds of hides are probably a raw material for them.¡±


    Bernt just stared at her with wide eyes. ¡°What? How do you know this stuff?¡± There was absolutely no way that something like this wouldn¡¯t be a guild secret. If they knew that she knew¡­ well, the guilds didn¡¯t manage to keep their secrets for hundreds of years because of their light touch. It could mean her life. And his, now. She¡¯d just¡­ casually told him!


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    Josie shrugged. ¡°I can sense souls. Most berserkers carry around traces of three or four of them, at least. I couldn¡¯t miss it if I tried.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Bernt hissed. ¡°But why would you tell me?¡±


    She smirked. ¡°I thought mages loved learning secrets. Besides, who are you going to tell?¡±


    Bernt took a slow breath and reminded himself that mages did, in fact, love learning secrets. And besides, all the best secrets were dangerous to know. She hadn¡¯t even gained any leverage by telling him. It wasn¡¯t as though she was going to blab about this where the berserkers might hear.


    This was good. She was practically doing him a favor. In fact¡­


    ¡°So¡­wait a moment,¡± he said, examining the hide, ¡°you¡¯re saying they use animal souls to enchant their gear?¡±


    ¡°I suppose?¡± Surprise registered on Josie¡¯s face at his sudden change of attitude. ¡°Sort of. Ritual slaughter and some enchantment afterward, is my guess. And that¡¯s before the Berserkers¡¯ Guild does whatever they do to it.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, alright.¡± Bernt said, dragging the heavy thing past the carcass of a now surprisingly normal-sized beaver. ¡°Let¡¯s get all of this stuff up into the street. I¡¯ll find us a cart and we¡¯ll move it all out to the garbage incinerator.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a bit inefficient?¡± Josie complained. ¡°There''s a garbage dump down here, less than a half-mile away!¡±


    Bernt smiled humorlessly. ¡°There is. But any garbage recovered from the sewers is considered hazardous waste. And hazardous waste goes to the hazardous waste disposal incinerator.¡±


    Besides, if everything went to the incinerator, the tannery wouldn¡¯t question a missing skinwalker¡¯s hide. Bernt wasn¡¯t really interested in using the thing as it was ¨C there was a reason that skinwalkers were mostly just remembered from stories. They had a tendency to go insane, which seemed fair if it really worked the way that Josie made it sound. But¡­ well, if the berserkers had found a way to make it work for them, he at least wanted to see what Grixit thought about it.


    Josie grabbed an armful of garbage and started hauling it out.


    ¡°So, are you going to tell me how you got a demon to serve you for years without paying its price?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ¡®get her to serve¡¯.¡± Bernt replied. ¡°I just asked her for help and she helped. She was down in the sewers already anyway.¡±


    Josie scoffed disbelievingly. ¡°They don¡¯t do that. Demons have prices. You must have given her something.¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t.¡± Bernt said, annoyed. ¡°Unless you want to count a roof over her head and a warm place to sleep. But it wasn''t a trade. I just took her home.¡±


    The warlock turned to face him, clearly planning to argue, but he quickly cut her off with a question of his own.


    ¡°What happened to the guy who summoned her, anyway? Your boss told me the Solicitors would take care of it. No other demons have come for Jori as far as I know, but I never got an update, either. Did you catch him?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not authorized to share that kind of information¡± Josie said in the rote tone of someone who was used to saying that exact phrase to people several times per day. ¡°You¡¯ll have to submit an information request with the office.¡±


    Bernt groaned quietly. This was going to be a long day.


    ¨C-------


    ¡°So, how did it go?¡± Ed asked as Bernt handed him his reports for the day. He looked over to the corner of the room, distracted by the sight of Gnugg scrubbing at the floor with a small cleaning brush. Farrin must be worried about keeping him out of trouble again.


    ¡°A mutant beaver built a dam underneath the Dyer¡¯s district,¡± he said, sinking down into the chair opposite Ed¡¯s desk. ¡°There¡¯s a dumping citation for a dyer who thought we wouldn¡¯t notice blue dye pouring out of the sewers. We also cleared a couple of smaller blockages in that weird neighborhood on the western edge of the district that always has issues ¨C no clear cause there. Oh, we also found an abandoned campsite, probably goblins that already moved on. I wrote up a note for the guards, but they¡¯re not going to do anything.¡±


    Ed nodded. ¡°Alright, good. How did the warlock do?¡± Josie had excused herself a few minutes before as they passed by the Solicitors¡¯ office ¨C apparently they had cleaning facilities that could handle even an underkeepers¡¯ laundry. While they were all technically supposed to end their day at headquarters, there was no need for her to walk all the way down there and back up.


    ¡°Fine.¡± Bernt admitted a little grudgingly. ¡°She¡¯s efficient and walks through a sewer as if it was a freshly cleaned street. She can fight, too.¡± He swallowed uncomfortably at the memory. ¡°It¡¯s kind of scary, actually. She¡­ uh, she doesn¡¯t like me very much. At all.¡±


    At first, Bernt hadn¡¯t wanted to work with her because she was a solicitor. The Solicitors had threatened Jori, and clearly they still wanted to control her. That just didn¡¯t sit right with him. Now, though, it was more personal. Josie made him uncomfortable ¨C and not because she was a warlock. Not just that, anyway. She¡¯d spent the whole workday snooping, asking personal questions about him and Jori. When he was willing to answer, she responded to everything he said with some combination of disbelief and disapproval. It was rude and he¡¯d tired of it pretty much immediately.


    ¡°Do I really have to work with her?¡± he asked. The question sounded whiny, even to him ¨C it was embarrassing to realize that she¡¯d gotten under his skin.


    Ed laughed dryly. ¡°Son, I think you¡¯ve spent too much time hanging around like-minded people. Not everyone is going to like or respect your choices or your way of looking at the world.¡±


    Bernt scoffed. ¡°I know that! You should see the looks I get when I walk down the street these days ¨C or when I try to apply for a lease!¡±


    ¡°Sure, but none of those people will ever actually make you think and ask yourself important questions.¡± Ed said seriously. ¡°This is going to be good for you. It¡¯s important to learn to see yourself from other peoples¡¯ perspectives and to learn why they think the way they do. I don¡¯t really know much about the girl, but the same is probably true for her.¡±


    Bernt clenched his jaw in irritation for a moment. He did need to learn more about warlocks, if only for Jori¡¯s sake. He was letting his personal feelings get in the way, and he wasn''t sure he could afford that anymore.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he said grudgingly and got up to leave. ¡°I¡¯ll see you in the morning.¡±


    If he wanted to get anywhere in life, he''d have to live with far worse than a little skepticism.

 2.6 Follow Up

    Bernt sat in his room at the Minotaur¡¯s Head and read the letter again ¨C the pertinent part, not the introductory word salad. Someone had slid it under his door and he¡¯d found it when he got up this morning. It was written on expensive parchment, adorned at the top with the elaborate crest of the Solicitors.


    It was just as vague and unhelpful as the first time he¡¯d read it.


    ¡°The threat posed by the rogue warlock in question has been neutralized. No further demonic threats to either yourself or the imp Dzhorianath are known.¡±


    That was it. No details, nothing. He flipped it over. The back was still blank, just like the first time he¡¯d checked. No clue why the rogue warlock was summoning demons in the first place or what even happened to him. Was he dead? Did the solicitors have him locked up somewhere?


    Or... did they recruit him?


    Bernt shivered at the thought. They wouldn¡¯t. Probably.


    Would they?


    No. They wouldn¡¯t. Jori¡¯s summoner had, so far as he and Jori could tell, messed up multiple summonings. Worse, he¡¯d apparently tried to cover up his failure by dumping Jori in a sewer. That suggested some kind of nefarious intent as well as incompetence.


    If there was one thing Bernt had learned from working with Josie over the past several days, it was that solicitors hated dabblers and improvisers of all kinds, but most especially those who played fast and loose with demons and summoning. He knew because they considered him to be one, especially Josie. His only redeeming quality in their eyes was that he hadn¡¯t actually done any summoning.


    Their attitude was irritating, but he supposed it made sense ¨C solicitors had to account for everything ahead of time for both their demonic pacts and more mundane contracts. It stood to reason that people drawn to that sort of work had a certain intolerance for people who tried to figure it out as they went along. They only put up with him because of Jori, who they wanted as part of some kind of public relations campaign to help reform their image. He hoped they had a proper plan for that. She was cute, mostly friendly and she didn¡¯t hurt people for no reason. That was something, but it wasn¡¯t a plan.


    Still, he wanted to know the details. If he pushed Josie long enough, she would tell him something. Or maybe Jori could get it out of her. Whatever the case, he wasn¡¯t just going to let this lie.


    He put the letter down on top of a haphazard stack of notes and partial spell diagrams on his desk and got up. He needed to get moving.


    Pulling his boots on with a little more force than was absolutely necessary, Bernt made his way out of the inn and headed to work. Jori was already gone, having darted out the window a few minutes earlier. She was going to get Gnugg and Trip from the orphanage. Trip and the little kobold had become practically inseparable, leading to more than a few outraged comments from gnomes who saw the two ancestral enemies walking around together.


    When he first approached Ed about letting orphan volunteers check storm drains, Bernt had expected the archmage to decline. It had been Jori¡¯s idea, and Farrin had reluctantly agreed only because Gnugg had insisted. Poorer children often worked in Halfbridge, but not for a mage order like the Underkeepers. But Ed had accepted. They were spread thin trying to clean up after the kobold invasion, and doing the street-level rounds in the safer parts of the city didn¡¯t really require a mage. Or an adult, for that matter.


    ¨C----


    When Bernt arrived, he found a crowd of people standing outside the Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters. There were thirty of them at least and they were all facing right at the building with the wary anticipation of people who weren¡¯t quite sure what they were supposed to be doing.


    These were the new recruits, Bernt realized a little belatedly. People had been stepping in and out of the office for several days, crowding the Underkeepers'' main room at times, but most of them hadn¡¯t looked like much. Bernt hadn¡¯t realized just how many qualified applicants there were. At the front of the crowd stood Ed alongside Fiora, who was calling roll from a list.


    Unsure of what he was supposed to do, he stopped to watch. It was a heterogenous crowd ¨C humans, dwarves, goblins and a few gnomes. No elves, but that wasn¡¯t much of a surprise. Most kinds of elves were uncomfortable in enclosed spaces. Every time a name was called, a new guard would go up to Fiora, sign her list, and receive a gray, cloth-wrapped bundle from Ed.


    It was gear. Bernt¡¯s heart leapt up into his throat. They were finally getting equipment!


    ¡°What in the hells is all this about?¡± came a familiar voice from behind him.


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    Bernt turned to find Josie standing there. A small part of him noted with some incredulity that her work clothes were, once again, completely spotless, as they¡¯d been every morning since her first day. How did she do it?


    But there were more important things to think about today.


    ¡°It''s the new recruits. And it looks like we¡¯re about to finally get some proper equipment!¡± Bernt said, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice or the smile off his face. ¡°And I guess that means we¡¯re moving into the new Undercity soon. Maybe today. We can''t operate out of here with all these people. Where would they even put their stuff?¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Josie nodded, apparently not very intrigued by the idea. A moment later, though, her face broke into a smile, too. ¡°Wait, does that mean no sewers today?¡±


    ¨C----


    ¡°You¡¯ll be doing the sewer rounds in the crafter¡¯s district this morning.¡± Ed said, several minutes later. The new Underkeeper Guards were being led down to the Undercity by Fiora for orientation. There, they would be put to work assisting Kustov and the city¡¯s engineers as they expanded the space, set up defensive structures and guard stations and generally turned the former kobold warren into a habitable and reasonably comfortable space for surface dwellers.


    Bernt accepted the checklist from Ed with an amused grunt as Josie groaned quietly with disappointment.


    ¡°What about the equipment?¡± Bernt asked, looking around the room. ¡°I saw you outfitting the new recruits earlier. My boots haven¡¯t been entirely waterproof since last year.¡±


    Of course, he was hoping for something quite a bit better than new work boots. They couldn¡¯t very well expect a new guard force to supply their own fighting equipment. Not that he expected the Count to spring for the good stuff. Still, he would take what he could get.


    ¡°Yes, don¡¯t worry.¡± Ed said ¡°We¡¯ve updated our uniform to better reflect our new purpose. You''ll be getting it before the end of the day. Just wear it to work tomorrow and bring your old robe back. I have to turn it back in to the Count¡¯s quartermaster. Some kind of procedure or other.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s to prevent misappropriation of funds,¡± Josie helpfully provided. ¡°Paragraph thirty-two of the Beseri code for the management of arms, armor, and wearable equipment.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure.¡± Ed said, waving them off. ¡°Get to it. I¡¯ll meet you and the others two hours after noon at the main breach. The whole thing is being reinforced and converted to be the new entrance to the Undercity. We¡¯re going to do an orientation for everyone who isn¡¯t already familiar.¡±


    ¨C-----


    The workday passed by with agonizing slowness. Working in the crafter¡¯s district, they passed within sight of the breach twice. Bernt hadn¡¯t seen it in about a week, and even what little they could see had already changed quite a bit. At least three of the houses across the street were simply gone, and he could see the top of a massive arch that had been built into the city wall somehow.


    While there was thankfully little in the way of slimes or mutant rodents running around in the sewers that day, they still ran into detritus from the battle that had taken place nearly five weeks earlier, even though both the guards and the underkeepers had come through to clear the bodies and rubble.


    Several hours later, they found a surprisingly large pile of gnawed, stinking bones, and bits of cloth and leather washed up in a corner. When they removed the stuff, Josie found something else buried in the mess ¨C a silver ring that was too large for a finger and too small to be a bracelet ¨C probably a kobold¡¯s tailring.


    She grinned, slipping it into a small pouch at her belt. According to unofficial Underkeeper custom, finders were keepers. Bernt dug through the rest of it carefully, hoping for maybe a gold coin or something, but he came up with nothing. Of course.


    Oh well, next time.


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s time, yet?¡± Josie asked, looking up longingly as if she could will herself up and out of the sewer to the relatively fresh air of the streets above. Bernt could relate.


    ¡°No. But we haven¡¯t had lunch yet,¡± he said and pointed. ¡°If we take a right up there, we¡¯ll come out of the access shaft right next to Marin¡¯s Bakery. She won¡¯t let us inside, but if we knock at the window we can get some of her bread-bowl soup. It¡¯s a bit messy, but prices are pretty reasonable, and there¡¯s a little fountain to wash our hands not too far from there.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good.¡± Josie said. ¡°Anything but more street-cart cabbage rolls. Your eating habits are deranged.¡±


    Bernt scoffed. ¡°I¡¯ll pretend that I didn¡¯t hear that. Cal is a cabbage artist!¡±


    ¡°Not even the poorest farmers just eat cabbage every day, Bernt," Josie replied with a roll of her eyes.


    Bernt shrugged. Cal was a friend, and there was nothing wrong with supporting his business. Besides, his cabbage rolls really were that good.


    ¡°Listen,¡± he said, changing the subject. ¡°I got a response about that rogue warlock back from the Solicitors¡¯ Office¡­¡±


    Josie¡¯s expression, which had almost been friendly before, turned sour. ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°Well, they essentially just said ¡®don¡¯t worry about it¡¯.¡± Bernt complained. ¡°What am I supposed to do with that? This guy tried to kill Jori, and he was clearly out there just summoning demons. Who knows how many are still running around?¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± she said, relaxing a little. ¡°You¡¯re worried that he might still be a threat to you if we didn¡¯t kill him.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± Bernt said, exasperation leaking into his tone and demeanor. ¡°I also just want to know what happened. I mean, who wouldn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± the warlock mused, cocking her head to the side a little. ¡°Well, I mean... rogue warlocks are normally executed on sight. If we have reason to believe that they¡¯re cultists, or that they¡¯re being influenced by another power somehow, then we would keep them contained for a while, so we can try to use them to find the source of the problem.¡±


    ¡°Uh.¡± Bernt said eloquently. She''d actually said something useful! Sort of. ¡°You mean he was part of a demonic cult of some kind?¡±


    Josie shook her head disgustedly and sloshed off down the sewer. ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you anything, you dolt. Come on, I¡¯m hungry.¡±

 2.7 The Undercity

    Bernt was still cramming the last bits of soggy, soup-drenched bread into his mouth when they arrived at the breach. Uh. Former breach. Sometime in the past week, the place had been transformed ¨C probably by Kustov or maybe even Janus. It was a lot of stonework.


    What had previously been little more than a sloped hole in the street, leading down to a tunnel that had been torn into the sewers below, was now a semi-circular set of broad steps that led down to an imposing-looking stone archway. It was set directly under the city wall, giving people entering the Undercity the sense that they were walking into a cliff-face. There was no sign left of any sewer access. Alongside the wall on either side were gently-sloped ramps to allow for the passage of modestly-sized carts.


    The houses across the street had been torn down, the rubble removed, and the earth beneath paved over with smooth, magically shaped sandstone to create a small plaza ¨C and to ensure there would be enough space for traffic to pass by, Bernt assumed.


    On one side at street-level stood the stone shell of a new guard station.


    They were still a little early, but Bernt already knew they weren¡¯t the first ones there. Kustov was sitting in the doorway of the guard station, sipping from a bottle. He sat across from Jori, who was entertaining Gnugg and Trip by cramming an entire spicy cabbage roll into her mouth as they cheered her on.


    A moment later, Jori saw them coming and waved, and the others turned to look.


    ¡°Is it safe to just have your demon interact freely with children like that?¡± Josie asked, speaking quietly so they wouldn¡¯t hear.


    Bernt supposed she must not know how a mage¡¯s familiar bond worked. Jori could hear everything he did when they were this close together, as long as she chose to spare any attention for it.


    He shrugged. ¡°Jori¡¯s been looking out for Gnugg since before he even got here. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anyone he feels safer around. She¡¯s gotten pretty attached to them both and she sees them as her responsibility. I think it¡¯s good for her.¡±


    Josie looked at him strangely, but then just shook her head and waved back to the group as they reached them.


    Kustov nodded at the humans and offered them the bottle, Josie first. She declined with a polite shake of her head and he held it out to Bernt. He accepted and took a sip.


    It was not water.


    ¡°This place looks great!¡± Bernt wheezed, coughing as his eyes teared up. ¡°Is it all your work?¡±


    Kustov nodded proudly, graciously ignoring Bernt¡¯s sputtering. Dwarves normally considered it rude to pull a face or cough when drinking ¨C it implied that the host had offered a beverage of inferior quality. But dwarven spirits also weren¡¯t really meant for human consumption.


    ¡°Welcome to the new Undercity Gate! It¡¯s not half done yet, but it¡¯s good enough to be put to use. The rest can wait until we¡¯ve got people moved in down below. We got a few other geomancers to help out down there, including a few of the military¡¯s engineering corps. It¡¯s just about ready.¡±


    Bernt whistled, impressed. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you managed to do so much so quickly. How do you keep yourself from burning out?¡±


    ¡°I am a stoneweaver, boy,¡± the dwarf scoffed. ¡°This is what I do. If you had the right augmentation, you could do the same easily enough.¡±


    Bernt huffed out a disbelieving laugh. Kustov wasn¡¯t just incredibly powerful for a magister, he was clearly a skilled engineer. Just building a plaza that would properly drain water during a rainstorm was an engineering challenge. Rearranging a sewer system to make space for this new bit of city architecture without collapsing the buildings that were built right on top of it was something else entirely. But the dwarf had done it, somehow. If he hadn¡¯t, the streets near here would already be bathed in raw sewage.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious.¡± Kustov said, seeing his face. ¡°You just have the one investiture for now, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed the difference already. Each one will reinforce your mana network a little further. Finishing your augmentation will make an even bigger difference. You¡¯ll be using fire, sure, but you¡¯ll surprise yourself with what a difference it makes.¡±


    ¡°Alright. I guess I¡¯ll find out.¡± Bernt allowed. He did want to finish his augmentation, though his heart sank at the reminder of what he¡¯d need for his second investiture. ¡°Eventually, anyway,¡± he added gloomily.


    ¡°Why?¡± Kustov asked, peering at him. ¡°There¡¯s no sense in waiting too long, so long as you can afford the materials and you¡¯re well-practiced enough to get it done right. The sooner you can practice with the full augmentation the better.¡±


    Josie was listening to the conversation curiously. Bernt supposed she wouldn¡¯t know very much about mage advancement. The basics weren¡¯t much of a secret, but someone who wasn¡¯t born with the talent to become a mage would have no reason to learn about it.


    ¡°It¡¯s the second investiture,¡± he explained. ¡°I have to get my hands on a perpetual flame.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡± Kustov said, wincing slightly. ¡°Yes, that might not be quite so easy.¡±


    Perpetual flames sustained themselves on ambient mana, never going out unless deliberately extinguished. What made them so dangerous was that, if you let them, they consumed magic of all kinds ¨C including things like enchanted armor or shield spells. Or mages. Needless to say, perpetual flames were tightly controlled and almost never propagated by anyone who possessed one.


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    ¡°I don¡¯t know that there is one in the city. It¡¯s possible that the count has one in his private armory, though¡­ or perhaps the Mages¡¯ Guild. But they wouldn¡¯t just hand you something like that. Have you asked, at least?¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡± Bernt said. ¡°I¡¯m not even used to the first investiture yet. My casting is still much too slow.¡±


    It sounded like an excuse, which probably meant that it was one. He didn¡¯t want to ask Archmage Iriala for a favor, especially considering that he already owed her quite a bit. But he would have to, he knew. He was just putting it off as long as he could.


    Recognizing that fact, he sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll go and make an appointment on my next day off.¡±


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re all here,¡± came Ed¡¯s voice from below. He stood in the mouth of the tunnel, flanked by Dayle and Fiora. Bernt was confused for a moment until he looked around and saw Yarrod making his way down the ramp from the opposite side. ¡°Come on down, I¡¯ll show you around.¡±


    ¨C-----


    The tunnel into the new Undercity had been enlarged significantly, nearly as wide as a normal street and tall enough for a mounted rider to pass through. Ed led them straight down the gentle slope toward the original set of chambers near the entry, but Bernt saw several new tunnels branching off and curving around out of sight, likely leading down underneath the city. The dragon¡¯s lair had primarily been located outside the city to the west, with the kobold¡¯s infiltration tunnels branching out toward and underneath Halfbridge.


    ¡°Goodness, Kustov,¡± said Yarrod, ¡°whyever did you widen the tunnels that the kobolds used to attack the city?¡±


    The dwarf shrugged. ¡°The count wanted the new Undercity mainly built directly underneath Halfbridge for defensive purposes. The main tunnel here branches off the original one in a few hundred paces and curves down and around as well. We expanded it out from the infiltration tunnels ¨C only about a fifth of it is even part of the original dungeon. It¡¯s just as well, the general didn¡¯t want to give us his space, and we want to keep the civilians as far away from the duergar lines as we can.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± Yarrod sighed. ¡°But I hope you kept in mind that this means the new denizens of this Undercity could tunnel right up into the basements of our fair citizenry. I fear that a warren of tunnels isn¡¯t necessarily going to attract the cream of the crop, so to speak, in terms of the quality of its future denizens.¡±


    Kustov narrowed his eyes. ¡°What is that supposed to mean, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Please, my friend,¡± the gnome said, looking pained. ¡°I do not impugn the honor of our fair dwarven neighbors. I rather would point to the other, generally more surface-oriented races who would hide their activities from the light of day.¡±


    Kustov rolled his eyes and Dayle snorted. ¡°You worry too much. What do you think we¡¯re there for? We¡¯ll keep everyone in line.¡±


    Yarrod shook his head, muttering something that sounded skeptical, but he let the matter drop.


    True to Kustov¡¯s word, the main tunnel did turn back around in a wide arc, leading them down and underneath the city until they came into a large chamber ¨C a cavern, really.


    The dwarf turned around and swept his hand around in a presentational gesture as they stopped to admire it for a moment. The stone ceiling was held up by massive stone columns and lit by a large mage light that someone, probably Ed, had hung high up near the ceiling. A large, empty market square spread out in front of them, already complete with stone stalls for merchants. The sides of the square cavern were lined with the plain stone facades of unfinished buildings, and at the center of each side Bernt could see the mouth of a large tunnel ¨C the main thoroughfares of the new district.


    The walls of the space weren¡¯t smooth ¨C a deep, natural-looking crack rounded the entire cavern horizontally about twenty paces up, and smaller cracks radiated outward from it at regular intervals in a pattern that made it clear that it was not, in fact, natural at all.


    As they watched, a robed man on the other side of the square placed a hand against the stone and bowed his head, his softly spoken words echoing through the space unintelligibly.


    At first, nothing happened. But then, Bernt noticed a soft greenish-yellow glow coming from the crack in the stone right above the man. A moment later, the source of the light wiggled its way out of the crack, followed by several more of the things. Bernt shivered, thinking they were some kind of worm until softly glowing leaves began to sprout from the tendrils. Seconds later, inflorescences of tiny flowers emerged from underneath and bloomed, bathing the cavern in bright white light like tiny clusters of stars.


    Within a few minutes, the vines emerged from the large crack all around the cavern, growing inward and finding purchase in the smaller cracks to lay down roots and quest out further until they found the outer columns. It turned the space from imposing but mostly practical into something uniquely beautiful.


    Bernt¡¯s breath caught looking at it.


    This was incredible. He could get used to this, Bernt decided. No, he needed to live here. It was roomy here, not at all like the former dungeon, which was sized for tiny kobolds. He had no idea what the rest of the Undercity would look like, but this¡­ well, he was friends with the dwarf who¡¯d made it. Friendly acquaintances. Whatever. Kustov would help if he asked, and even he could see that he¡¯d be an idiot not to ask.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± a rich, melodious voice asked. Bernt dropped his gaze from the glowing vines and turned, surprised. The robed man was watching them, eyes twinkling. He was a half-elf who wore a long, brown beard that made him look more human than elven. He took a moment to give Ed a brief nod, but he was clearly addressing Kustov.


    ¡°Archdruid Leirin. Yes, fine, ¡± Kustov said in a clearly reluctant tone of concession. ¡°It looks better than rune lighting.¡±


    ¡°Just as I told you!¡± the archdruid said proudly, but then his formal demeanor cracked and he grinned. ¡°Dwarven architecture has too many straight lines. You have to break it up with some more organic elements or it just doesn¡¯t feel homey.¡±


    Kustov frowned, but waved the man off. ¡°Be off with you. We¡¯re not paying you to chat.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not paying me at all ¨C the count is,¡± the druid chuckled and winked as he moved toward one of the far tunnels, presumably to continue his work of lighting the place.


    ¡°Arrogant leaf-muncher.¡± Kustov grumbled, but Bernt could tell he was pleased.


    Ed patted the dwarf on the back as he passed him, heading toward the right side of the cavern. ¡°Relax,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s the results that matter. This is perfect. I think we¡¯re going to get a lot more interest than old Narald bargained for.¡±


    Bernt couldn¡¯t help but agree.


    Ed led the group through an archway that was probably supposed to hold a set of double-doors later into a large, open chamber. The keystone of the arch was marked with a stylized arcane glyph under a crescent, the whole thing bisected by a vertical line.


    Inside, several of the new underkeepers did spear drills under the watchful eye of a regular city guard who Bernt didn¡¯t recognize. And behind them Bernt could see deep into an entire complex of empty rooms through a series of unfinished windows and doors.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± Ed said with a grandiose gesture to the surrounding space, ¡°to the new Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters.¡±

 2.8 Moving In

    The new complex was massive ¨C at least compared to their old headquarters. It made sense, since there was no way that nearly forty people could operate out of the tiny facilities that they¡¯d had before. This, though, was sized for at least three times as many people, probably closer to one hundred fifty, and there was no reason they couldn¡¯t expand out further into the earth. They had Kustov, after all. There were several offices, a training room, equipment storage, a massive kitchen and canteen, a break room and, of course, an armory.


    ¡°Okay everyone, and now to the good part.¡± Ed said, leading them into the last large room. The walls were lined with mundane weaponry ¨C spears, long knives, and stacks of basic armor. Gambesons, mail, helmets and boots. Most of it wasn¡¯t new, but it all looked to be in good repair. Bernt had no idea where Ed might have gotten it.


    ¡°Underkeepers without preexisting fighting qualifications are going to get the same basic guard training as the city guards. Former adventurers get more specialized equipment when we can find it. You, our original underkeepers, are also going to have some specialized kit. Mages outside the military aren¡¯t allowed to wear uniforms or armor in any style resembling Beseri army¡¯s, so you¡¯re going to be wearing these.¡±


    He reached down behind the tall stack of gambesons and picked up a gray bundle, checked a note that had been pinned to it, and tossed it to Bernt.


    Bernt caught it and let it unfurl. It was a gray robe, almost exactly like the one he was wearing, but the material was thicker and the whole thing was a lot heavier. Metal peeked out from the inside.


    ¡°Your new robes are lined with mail around the torso, like you¡¯d usually get for adventuring gear.¡± Ed explained as he passed the new robes out. ¡°They¡¯re also enchanted to repel water, so you shouldn¡¯t have to worry about staining in the future when you¡¯re working up in the sewers. Same with the boots over there. There wasn¡¯t enough in the budget for defensive enchantments, but they don¡¯t even spring for that in the military. It¡¯s turning out better than I expected, all things considered.¡±


    Josie cleared her throat. She hadn¡¯t received a robe, which made sense ¨C she wasn¡¯t a mage. She was still wearing her own clothes, the ones she¡¯d brought with her on her first day.


    ¡°Uh¡­ what about me?¡± She asked, looking around at the gear all around her.


    ¡°I asked Radast about it, since you¡¯re technically on loan.¡± Ed said his usual scowl taking on a wry edge as he talked. ¡°He said he was going to handle your equipment himself ¨C something about warlocks having ¡®standards¡¯. Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll probably be better equipped than anyone here.¡±


    Turning away, he led the group over to the weapons.


    ¡°Each of you is going to start carrying a dagger as a sidearm. I expect all of you to develop at least some basic competency in close fighting with our new trainer, who you¡¯ll meet tomorrow ¨C I highly recommend learning to incorporate some spellcasting with this as well. It¡¯s highly unorthodox for mages to combine arms and magic, but orthodoxy is highly overrated when it comes to surviving to a ripe old age as a war mage.


    Yarrod harrumphed pompously. ¡°Hmpf. So, is that what we¡¯re to be, now? War mages? I would have expected that the army that¡¯s stationed about twenty-minutes¡¯ walk that way would cover that part if worse came to worst.¡±


    Ed barked a humorless laugh. ¡°Wars aren¡¯t fought along neat, impenetrable lines, my friend, and nothing about the Duergar Empire¡¯s movements would suggest that they¡¯re planning to play nice for long. I would be surprised if we get through this whole mess unscathed. Allowing you to muddle through with the skills you developed wiping out the minor nuisances that plague the sewers would not be¡­ appropriate.¡±


    He sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. ¡°We¡¯re getting off track a bit. Just trust me on this, alright? I¡¯m looking out for you.¡±


    The archmage turned around and pulled two staves, which Bernt had assumed were training spears, from the wall. He held the larger one out to Bernt, and the smaller to Yarrod. ¡°I also acquired two basic war mage staves from Arice¡¯s quartermaster. Both of you use wands right now, which is fine in most situations, but limited. You¡¯ll need something with a bit more heft to it.¡±


    As Bernt accepted the staff, Ed met his eyes and added, dryly. ¡°It¡¯s also useful to have a quality general focus on hand, for when you can¡¯t burn your way past your problems with more specialized equipment.¡±


    Bernt grinned. He almost couldn¡¯t wait, but he restrained himself and took his time to pick out a pair of boots that fit properly before leaving. He¡¯d probably be using them for a long time.


    ¨C------


    ¡°Under ¡®reason for resettlement¡¯ you wrote ¡®work¡¯,¡° the weary-looking clerk said with dead eyes. ¡°While we expect the Undercity¡¯s economy to develop quickly, there are currently no known employment opportunities in the Undercity."


    Bernt sighed and threw an apologetic glance over his shoulder. A long line of impatient-looking dwarves, goblins, a few humans and a handful of gnomes stretched out behind him, extending far out of the magistrate¡¯s office into the hallway.


    He¡¯d listed work as his reason because he assumed that ¡°I want to find a home for my demonic familiar¡± wouldn¡¯t go over quite as well on a resettlement claim. Apparently he¡¯d been wrong.


    ¡°I already have a job.¡± Bernt said, indicating vaguely at his robes. ¡°I¡¯m an underkeeper. The new headquarters is located in the Undercity. As it is now, I¡¯d have to walk over half an hour to reach it.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡± the clerk grunted, scribbling something on Bernt¡¯s form. He hoped it wasn¡¯t going to be a problem. It couldn¡¯t be, right? They were planning to move goblins down there. Why wouldn¡¯t they let him live there?


    ¡°Alright,¡± the taciturn dwarf went on as he copied Bernt¡¯s responses onto another sheet. ¡°To limit religious tensions, the district has two separate residential quarters for adherents to shamanistic traditions and one that houses temples to the three dwarven deities that our own temple district hasn¡¯t been able to accommodate thus far. Do you have any particular preference?¡±


    That was a strange way to say that they were planning to segregate the goblins off into their own neighborhood. Bernt supposed not all goblins were shamanistic, but still.


    ¡°What about the third neighborhood?¡± he asked.


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    ¡°The third quarter is going to function as sort of a secondary crafter¡¯s district ¨C it¡¯s located directly below it.¡± He nodded over to another, much shorter line, populated almost entirely by dwarves. ¡°Only registered artisans are permitted to settle there.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Bernt said, doing his best not to fidget impatiently. ¡°Is there anything close to the central marketplace? That¡¯s where the new headquarters is. I don¡¯t worship spirits or dwarven gods, so the neighborhood isn¡¯t really that important to me.¡±


    The clerk scoffed and smirked disbelievingly, but he kept processing the paperwork, so Bernt supposed it was just as well.


    ¡°Alright, sure. Congratulations, you¡¯re pre-qualified for resettlement. To obtain a resettlement permit and assigned housing, you¡¯ll need to pay an up-front fee of seventy-five gold marks or apply for financing via the Halfbridge city bank.¡± He held out a form. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re pre-approved.¡±


    Bernt scoffed and pulled a heavy pouch out from under his robes. The dwarf stared at it in surprise and almost dropped the paper. It was almost everything he had left, but this would be worth it. No rent payments ever again. He¡¯d be able to save money more quickly than ever before. He certainly wasn¡¯t about to sign up to pay interest to the bank for the next several years.


    He opened the pouch and started counting out coins.


    ¨C---------


    Bernt tied his loose notes and papers into a bundle with a bit of string and put it inside his shoddy-looking bag of holding. It didn¡¯t have an unlimited storage capacity ¨C not much more than a closet, really ¨C but it wasn¡¯t as though he had that much stuff.


    His books, an old novice¡¯s robe, cooking implements that he hadn¡¯t used since before he¡¯d last moved, a blanket, and a few other effects all fit into the bag with room to spare. He¡¯d need to buy some furnishings for the new place. And, he thought to himself as he adjusted his heavy new underkeepers¡¯ robes, some new clothes. Running around armored all the time was way too uncomfortable.


    Shouldering the bag, Bernt summoned Jori through their bond and started making his way down toward the Undercity. She reached him as he entered the Crafters¡¯ District and they walked down the street together in the fading evening light. People turned to watch them as they passed, but they didn¡¯t look overtly hostile anymore, as they had the first few weeks after Jori had gotten her papers and Ed had posted an official statement about her status.


    Bernt very much doubted that many people had seen that statement, but they couldn¡¯t have missed that neither guards nor solicitors ever came after him. Eventually, they¡¯d grown more used to the sight. Though, if Ed was to be believed, that didn¡¯t stop them from coming to him with complaints.


    It had only been a few hours since he¡¯d last been here, but the new guard station next to the gate had already been transformed. A door had been hung into the empty frame and a guard stood in front of it ¨C one dressed almost like a normal city guard, except for her gray tabard, which held the same symbol that was carved over the door of the new Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters. With some surprise, Bernt recognized her. It was Palina, the lantern-jawed senior guardswoman who had worked with him and Kustov during the kobold invasion.


    Apparently, she¡¯d decided to join the Underkeepers.


    He waved to her in greeting and she threw him an exaggeratedly crisp salute.


    ¡°Underkeeper Bernt!¡± she called and winked down at Jori, who waved back energetically. ¡°Evening.¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t they paying you enough in the regular guard?¡± Bernt asked, coming to a stop in front of her. ¡°I didn¡¯t think anyone would want to jump ship from the city guard to join us, considering the lack of sunlight and all the sewer work.¡±


    ¡°Ha!¡± Palina laughed. ¡°No, I¡¯m not doing that. I negotiated with the boss man. He needed experienced guards to teach the green recruits. And that crusty old Kustov recommended me. I got a nice pay raise out of the deal, and,¡± she gestured around her, ¡°I have the only sunlit post in the entire Undercity district!¡±


    Bernt grinned at her. ¡°Nice, congratulations!¡±


    ¡°Are you going on duty?¡± She asked, noting his robes.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that.¡± Bernt answered, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m actually moving down. I¡¯ve been having trouble finding a new place, and the Undercity is turning out a lot nicer than I was expecting.¡±


    Palina snorted, eyes crinkling deeply at the corners. ¡°Oh, I think it¡¯s turning out nicer than almost everyone was expecting. It¡¯s probably some political game, but nothing for the likes of us to worry about. No sense spitting in the eye of good fortune, right?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Bernt said, smiling as he headed down through the archway and Jori skipped after him. The trip down the tunnel felt shorter than last time ¨C it took maybe ten minutes to reach the Undercity¡¯s central marketplace. Surprisingly, it looked like he wasn¡¯t the only one eager to get moved in. While the place was mostly empty, there were already a few people walking around, taking in the new scenery or pulling carts across the square.


    Bernt pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and opened it up to check for his new address. The dwarven clerk had assigned him to what he thought of as the goblin quarter, probably because he hadn¡¯t wanted to put him into the obviously dwarven neighborhood. Following a rough map on the back of the piece of paper, Bernt went down the broad right-hand tunnel.


    The neighborhood was arranged like a wheel, with broad tunnels radiating out from a small park in the center that was encircled by a single larger tunnel. The first thing he noticed was the lack of normal sewer access shafts in the street. It was strange ¨C where was all the waste supposed to go? He couldn¡¯t imagine that Ed would be involved in building anything without a proper waste management system. Now that he thought about it, they couldn¡¯t exactly funnel an entire sewer system¡¯s wastewater anywhere from here ¨C the river was quite a ways up above this place. He¡¯d have to ask Ed about it some time.


    The walls were shaped into unfinished stone facades on all sides, revealing hundreds of plain living spaces with gaping holes where doors and shutters would go. There were a lot of homes, more than Bernt could imagine that they would need. Someone was planning for the future down here ¨C someone with access to a lot more geomancers than just Kustov and a few army engineers. By his guess, probably Iriala and the Mages¡¯ Guild.


    While the tunnels themselves were lit by the Archdruid¡¯s glowing vines, just as the central market area was, the homes were dark on the inside. That wouldn¡¯t be a problem for Bernt, but everyone else would have to get creative. Maybe they could just put some of those brightly glowing flowers in a vase. The more he thought about it, the more he appreciated the cleverness of using plants as a lighting solution. They looked nice, were accessible to everyone, and probably required little or no maintenance.


    It didn¡¯t take long to find the right address ¨C the clerk had apparently been listening after all. It was the third door down along the outer ring part of the neighborhood, almost right next to the thoroughfare that led back to the marketplace, but with enough distance that traffic wouldn¡¯t be going right by his door. A nice gesture and not one he would have expected from the surly dwarf.


    A few doors down on the other side of the street, he could see an enterprising goblin hammering shims in behind a jamb on a new door frame. Jori peered at him curiously.


    ¡°What¡¯s he doing?¡± she asked.


    Bernt, who was critically eying his own empty archway, looked back over at his new neighbor.


    ¡°He¡¯s making sure that the door jambs he installed are straight, so the door doesn¡¯t get stuck or drag on the ground when you open it.¡±


    ¡°Do we have to do that, too?¡± she asked, flinching back as the goblin shouted suddenly, threw his hammer against the wall, and then began kicking at the new door frame in rage. A moment later, a goblin woman stepped out of the door into the street, carrying a small child. She pressed the baby into the frothing man¡¯s hands, eyed the frame critically for a moment, and then pulled some of the shims back out again.


    Maybe Bernt could just straighten out the stone wall with magic.


    Sure he could. Maybe.


    Bernt sighed. ¡°Probably, yes.¡±


    Reaching into his robes, he grabbed at the now very light pouch of coins that hung around his neck. Maybe he could afford a carpenter?

 2.9 Meeting with an Archmage

    ¡°I would hire a professional if I were you.¡± Kustov said with a shrug. ¡°There¡¯s really no way around it. An improperly installed door is a nightmare ¨C the kind of minor nuisance that will ruin your peace of mind just a little more every day. Don¡¯t worry too much about the cost. You can save on the furniture if you practice your stone shaping ¨C tables, shelves, a stove, a broad bench along a wall for a bed. You can make all of that stuff yourself, just as long as you pad the seats and the bed properly. Maybe some decorations, shaped right into the stonework on the outside. It¡¯ll be a good exercise for you. You can be a pyromancer all you want, but a mage living underground should at least have passing competency at geomancy.¡±


    Bernt sat across from the dwarf in the break room, sipping on a cup of hot tea. Within the past day, someone had found the time to move a few tables and chairs of various heights and sizes in, and now several of the new underkeepers sat scattered around the tables, awaiting their assignments. There was a small kitchen in one corner with running water and a stove, though there was nothing to light it with. One of the goblins, a cheerful older woman named Lin who wore a broad belt hung with an uncountable number of pouches of various sizes, had brought in a bag of some kind of herbal tea. Curious to try it, Kustov had helpfully shaped a large teapot and an entire cupboard''s worth of cups directly out of the wall. After that, they''d just needed to heat the water, and Bernt could handle that easily enough.


    Jori, as far as Bernt could sense, was already on the surface to pick up her interns. They were on a regular schedule and would be going to clear out the grates at street level in the Upper District today. Today was actually Bernt¡¯s day off, but he''d come into the new Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters anyway. He still had a few hours until his appointment at the Mages¡¯ Guild and an entire empty stone shell of a home to make livable. Not knowing where to start, he¡¯d decided to swallow his pride and go looking for advice. Kustov, as it turned out, was not only knowledgeable, but also happy to chat about what was clearly one of his personal interests.


    He was learning that homeownership, while solving the rent issue, came with a whole host of other problems to solve and things to pay for.


    ¡°Uh. I¡¯m not sure I can do that kind of stoneshaping.¡± he admitted, feeling more than a little embarrassed at the fact. ¡°Do you think you might be able to help me out?¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± Kustov chuckled cheerfully. ¡°I¡¯d be cheating you out of an important learning opportunity. Learning for its own sake is boring, and here you¡¯ve got yourself some excellent motivation to get better in an area of magecraft that you¡¯ve previously neglected. It would be rude to take that away. Just start with the easy stuff. A bench for a bed, a shelf, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Motivation¡­¡± Bernt grumbled a little grudgingly. ¡°I suppose. I¡¯m still going to start with the door, though.¡± It just didn¡¯t feel right to sleep somewhere that he couldn¡¯t close up properly. It made him feel exposed, like he was camping in a construction site.


    ¡°Do you know any decent carpenters?¡±


    ¨C--------


    Two hours later, Bernt walked into the front office of the Mage¡¯s Guild. It was a tall building, a squat tower that sat straddling the corner where the Upper, Temple, and Lower Districts met and overlooked the Mage Academy.


    The Guild housed offices for various functionaries within the guild structure, overseeing the professional activities of mages all over the region. There were offices for agricultural water management, construction, dungeon security and containment, scrying services, warding, arcane research, and a few more that he couldn¡¯t remember off the top of his head. Anyone who wanted to sell their services to citizens on the open market or publish any research had to do so as a guild member and in accordance with guild standards ¨C unless they were working for the government or another powerful entity like the Adventurers¡¯ Guild.


    The front desk was manned by a thin, balding man who was busily duplicating forms or memos of some kind or another. The originals were written on a flexible cardstock, which was thick enough that the mages¡¯ duplication cantrip left two normal-looking paper copies.


    Bernt walked up to him and waited for a moment, but the man didn¡¯t appear to notice him. He picked up a stack of copies and held it out next to him. Two little hands reached up from behind the desk, accepting the stack, and Bernt just barely caught a glimpse of a knee-high monkey as it carried them off into a room behind the clerk ¨C probably where they kept their records.


    It was the first time he¡¯d seen another mage¡¯s familiar since his academy days. Familiars had fallen out of fashion a generation or two earlier, though Bernt never really understood why. None of the underkeepers had one, so far as he knew.


    Not sure what to do, Bernt stood there awkwardly for a moment and looked around. If he hadn¡¯t lost his apartment down by the docks, he might have used his savings to finally buy a guild license. Guild mages rarely went into pyromancy, but that didn¡¯t mean there was no work to be found. A pyromancer and a geomancer working together could, for example, single-handedly replace an entire city¡¯s brickworks, firing and glazing roof tiles, bricks and pottery more quickly and evenly than any natural fire.


    Bernt made a face at the thought of firing clay all day, every day. Sure, it was a lot safer than sewer work and not nearly so smelly, but there was a reason most cities didn¡¯t have a mage-dominated brick industry. Some things were just too boring to consider.


    ¡°Ahem. Can I help you?¡±


    Bernt started and looked back toward the desk. The secretary was giving him a skeptical stare that suggested that whatever reason had brought him in here had better be good. Right. The status of the Underkeepers might be shifting somewhat in the city in general, but that would hardly concern the Mages¡¯ Guild. Their order¡¯s history alone marked them as the dregs of their profession and it would take more than a few new responsibilities to change that.


    Now that he really thought about it, it was remarkable that the Underkeepers enjoyed so much formal support from Archmage Iriala and the guild, even considering that she and Ed were personal friends. That had to be causing some real tension within the guild itself.


    ¡°Uh, yes. I have an appointment with Archmage Iriala¡­¡±


    The man¡¯s skepticism visibly deepend at his words.


    ¡°Name?¡±


    ¡°Underkeeper Bernard¡± Bernt said calmly, doing his best to pretend that he didn¡¯t notice the man¡¯s attitude.


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    ¡°Ah, the warlock.¡±


    Bernt took a breath to refute the statement, but then just let it out in a soft, resigned sigh. What was the point? Nothing that he said here was going to get this man¡¯s respect. And what exactly did he need that for, anyway?


    ¡°Which way is it?¡± he asked shortly.


    ¡°Stairs on your left to the third floor, then all the way down the hall to your right.¡± The secretary said, as he marked something down on a clipboard that he had sitting in front of him and turned back to his paperwork. ¡°You can¡¯t miss it.¡±


    ¨C-----


    ¡°Enter!¡± Iriala called, putting down her pen as she glanced up at the dwarven water clock she had installed on her wall.


    The underkeeper boy was late.


    The door opened and he stepped inside, scowling in a distracted manner that reminded her oddly of Ed. The old goat was rubbing off on him.


    ¡°If you go on scowling at people like that, they¡¯re going to think you¡¯re carrying a grudge. You should be mindful of what your face is communicating to the world.¡±


    Bernt blinked with surprise and schooled his features.


    ¡°Better,¡± Iriala nodded. ¡°Now, what do you want?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± the young mage floundered for a moment, clearly trying to work out the right way to start. ¡°Sorry, Archmage. I¡¯m working on an Illurian naval pyromancer¡¯s mana network architecture, on Ed¡¯s recommendation.¡±


    Iriala frowned slightly. She¡¯d never liked that Ed let his subordinates address him so casually. It undermined his status, and that wasn¡¯t really something he could afford in his position.


    But it was his organization, and it wasn¡¯t as though he was going to start listening now.


    The underkeeper noticed her expression and swallowed nervously. She knew which architecture he was talking about ¨C it might be rare in Besermark, but it was also famous. Not a bad choice for underground usage, at least compared to traditional Beseri pyromancy. It was a tricky augmentation to master when it was complete, and powerful enough to justify its use despite its high failure rate ¨C at least to the Illurians. This could be more interesting than she¡¯d expected.


    ¡°So, I¡¯m currently trying to source the material for my second investiture ¨C a perpetual flame. I was hoping you might be able to help me, since those aren¡¯t exactly available on the open market.¡±


    Iriala nodded. ¡°We do have one in containment. You could, perhaps, propagate another one from it for your investiture.¡±


    Bernt¡¯s expression relaxed and he opened his mouth to talk, but she cut him off.


    ¡°Of course, I¡¯d say that the guild has already done you quite a significant favor with regard to your demon familiar.¡± She said, staring at him over the top of her glasses. ¡°And you¡¯re not even a member. I don¡¯t know that it¡¯s appropriate for me to invest in you in this manner. Have you spoken with Archmage Thurdred about this?¡±


    She emphasized Ed¡¯s title a little. She couldn¡¯t help it. Hierarchies mattered, gods damn it.


    Bernt swallowed. ¡°No. Should I have?¡±


    Iriala shrugged. ¡°He¡¯s your direct superior ¨C nobody has a stronger interest in seeing you grow. Granted, he doesn¡¯t have what you need.¡±


    This was pointless, why was she dragging this out? She had another meeting in ten minutes and way too much paperwork to deal with. The boy could learn to think strategically on his own time.


    ¡°If you¡¯re part of the guild, then an investment in you is an investment in ourselves. You can use the flame if you become a member. You should have done that as soon as you could afford it in the first place. You¡¯re an academy-trained professional, not a hedge mage or a foreigner ¨C there¡¯s nothing to disqualify you, as much as people might sneer at your choice of vocation. Besides, you¡¯re never going to get anywhere without access to a proper library.¡±


    He wouldn¡¯t be the first young mage to chafe at the restrictions the guild placed on them. It wasn¡¯t terribly unusual for someone to try to find a way to get around it. But those who did had to find some other way to access the resources they needed. Even most of those who turned to adventuring would buy a guild membership eventually, if only to access the library. Independence was only practical for so long.


    She expected Bernt would try to argue with her, but he only nodded, watching her expectantly.


    ¡°Good. In addition, I want you to keep an eye on that solicitor girl that Radast sent to the Underkeepers. Just¡­ let me know if she does anything unusual or interesting, or if you learn anything of note about the solicitors¡¯ activities.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t trust them?¡± he said, eyebrows rising slightly in faint surprise. ¡°I thought we were all working together now¡­¡±


    Iriala smiled humorlessly at him. ¡°I trust them just fine, young man. The Solicitors are always good to the letter of their contracts and I expect that they are reliable allies. But this is a political relationship. We can¡¯t expect them to take our interests into account any more than they absolutely have to. I¡¯m not going to waste all my time looking into their affairs, but it would be foolish not to at least keep some eyes and ears open.¡±


    Bernt swallowed, apparently a little uncomfortable with the idea of spying on his new co-worker. But, after a few moments, he nodded again.


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll need a bit of time to come up with the funds for the membership¡­¡±


    Iriala waved dismissively. ¡°Take all the time you need. You know where to find us.¡±


    If she could get Bernt to join the guild, it could simplify a few problems for her. It would give her more direct influence over him, for one. The young underkeeper and his imp could be quite useful if they were properly directed.


    While Iriala was juggling a variety of other concerns and interests, she needed to help both the Underkeepers and the Solicitors build more popular support for themselves in the near or medium term. It was a necessary step in legitimizing them as real political players and building a power base for them, which they would in turn use to support Iriala¡¯s own larger goals ¨C chiefly, developing a broader base of support for the Mages¡¯ Guild, which was overly reliant on the good will of the crown. That was mostly due to an obsolete, calcified balance of power between various guilds, the nobility and the most powerful temples, but the irritating result was that building up new political players was simpler and quicker than attempting to reconfigure old alliances.


    Their close relationship to the political elite had historically made the Mages¡¯ Guild one of the most powerful institutions in the realm, but it also robbed them of the ability to pursue their own political interests where they conflicted with those of the crown.


    That was going to change.


    ¨C------


    Bernt breathed a sigh of relief as he left the Archmage¡¯s office.


    That could have gone worse. He¡¯d already known that he would need to become a guild member eventually, which made it a relatively small price to pay, ignoring for a moment the very significant amount of gold he would be spending on it. Her other demand didn¡¯t sit as well with him.


    It wasn¡¯t as though he trusted the warlocks. No, it was more that he felt uncomfortable with the idea of spying on Josie. It just didn¡¯t feel right. But, on the other hand, it wasn¡¯t as though they were going to do anything to her personally. The guild was just watching its own back, and probably that of the Underkeepers as well.


    This wasn¡¯t going to get him his next investiture immediately, but it was achievable and he wouldn¡¯t have to anger any other guilds or delve into any dungeons. All things considered, things were looking up.

 2.10 Infiltrators

    Jori waved to the guard as she made her way back down into the Undercity ¨C it was a human man that she''d met before, but she couldn¡¯t remember his name. He inclined his head at her in response.


    Today was a good day. People were finally getting a little friendlier, or they were getting used to seeing her and Gnugg in the street, at least. A nice woman in the Crafters¡¯ District had even tossed a dead rat to her as she passed. How nice!


    Traffic was still light in the tunnel, but it wasn¡¯t empty anymore. A trickle of people trailed in and out alongside the ever-present military traffic coming from the former dungeon, some pulling carts or carrying heavy loads as they moved in. As she passed by the intersection where the soldiers branched off toward the army, though, she felt a shiver trail down her neck and into her wings.


    Jori glanced around, trying to find the source of the uncomfortably familiar sensation. Something was watching her, she was sure of it.


    Her heart started to beat faster and a jumble of frantic memories flashed through her mind. Running alongside other spawnling imps as fiends chased them, trying to bring one of them down. Surviving chase after chase as their swarm of spawnlings slowly shrank into a mob and then a pack. Finally, hiding in a small hole and watching as those who remained bowed under the horrible pressure of a lesser demon¡¯s gaze as it bound them into its service.


    Fighting, running, hiding. An existence of pure terror.


    The paralyzing fear gripped her for only a fraction of a second before it burned up in a rising sea of anger. She was not helpless. Not anymore. Growling, she looked more closely, whirling around to check every nook and crevice.


    Some of the passersby were looking at her a bit apprehensively, but they weren¡¯t stopping to stare. Many were just ignoring her and going on by. An older dwarf glared balefully at her as he went by, but he didn¡¯t slow down or stare either.


    They didn¡¯t sense it. She turned back toward the intersection just in time to see a shadow flicker across the ceiling, briefly darkening the glowing vines that were spread across it to illuminate the thoroughfare below.


    Nobody else had noticed.


    Shivering again, Jori picked up her pace and hurried down the tunnel toward Headquarters. She needed to tell someone.


    ¨C--------


    Josie picked up the very last thumb-thick stack of random memos and procedural documents and scanned each page before filing it in one of the folders laid out in front of her. She¡¯d spent the entire day shuffling papers around in the back of what was supposed to become Ed¡¯s office. While Fiora had apparently made an effort to organize some of the Underkeepers¡¯ recent paperwork, the vast majority of their records were ¡°organized¡± only in the sense that the boxes containing them were dated by year.


    The magistrate had no interest in pursuing any kind of complaint leveled against the order or fining them, considering that their budget was drawn directly from the Count¡¯s own coffers. Still, Ed and apparently his predecessor, had leaned very hard on their status as a government organization. If the crown ever actually decided to audit the Underkeepers, they would be faced with incomplete and jumbled records. The head of any normal organization would fear for their job!


    Of course, Ed and many of his people were already in their posts as a form of punishment. Firing them would be doing them a favor. If anything, it might free them from whatever coercion the nobles who had put them there were using to keep them from leaving.


    But all that didn¡¯t matter to Josie as she filed the last memo and began systematically organizing the folders, placing each one on the massive stone shelves that Kustov had erected for her hours earlier. It was about the principle of the thing. Any organization, but especially a government agency, should have well-kept records of their activities. It was just the right thing to do.


    As she turned to pick up another folder, something small ran into the room at breakneck speed. On reflex, Josie took a step back, gritting her teeth and manifesting her claws, but the intruder didn¡¯t attack.


    Jori stood in the doorway, head swiveling left and right as she checked the room. Her demonic soul radiated a phantom reddish light into the air around her that flickered slightly as if it were on fire, like all of the denizens of the third hell.


    ¡°Warlock!¡± she said, eyeing her warily, ¡°have you seen the Great Mage?¡±


    ¡°The archmage is on the surface, at the old headquarters, I think.¡± Josie looked at the imp, mirroring her careful attitude. ¡°I don¡¯t really know for sure. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°I sensed a predator in the tunnels.¡± Jori explained, gesturing animatedly behind her. ¡°Another demon. A shade, I think. I saw a shadow move, but I can¡¯t be sure exactly.¡±


    ¡°Huh. Um... Solicitor Radast has a pacted shade.¡±Josie said a little doubtfully. ¡°Maybe he sent it out to take a look around¡­¡±


    She knew Radast¡¯s pacted shade made for an excellent spy, but what would it be looking for in the tunnel of all places?


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    Jori apparently didn''t believe it either. The little imp scoffed.


    ¡°Your master doesn¡¯t need to send an invisible spy into the Undercity. He has you here.¡±


    Josie didn¡¯t react to the implied accusation. Jori¡¯s tone had been matter of fact and besides, any intelligent demon would consider such behavior to be simple common sense.


    ¡°Alright, so the duergar are sending demon spies,¡± Josie considered. ¡°That¡¯s not ideal, but it¡¯s not necessarily urgent. We don¡¯t have a counter-espionage protocol, but we should tell someone in authority and let them deal with it.¡±


    Jori rolled her eyes. ¡°Yes, obviously. That¡¯s why I am here. I need to find the Great Mage Ed.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Josie shook her head. ¡°Come on!¡±


    Being careful not to touch her, Josie squeezed past the little creature and crossed the hall, where a door had already been installed in a smaller office. She knocked politely three times and waited.


    ¡°Come in, Josie,¡± said a tired voice from inside. She opened the door and gestured to Jori to follow.


    ¡°How did you know it was me?¡± she asked as she stepped inside. Fiora was bent over a desk and filling out paperwork of some kind or other. Like all ranking mages, the woman¡¯s soul had been reshaped. She could see the woman¡¯s mana network like an intricate abstract sculpture that wove its way through her body, shining too brightly for her flesh or clothes to hide and extending down all four limbs and into her head.


    It was distracting and Josie suppressed the ability with a thought, closing the phantom third eye that her pact had granted her.


    The older woman snorted. ¡°You¡¯re the only one in this damned place who knocks. What do you need?¡± Looking up, Fiora finally caught sight of Jori. Her eyebrows went up in a small expression of surprise. ¡°Uh. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    It only took a moment to catch her up. The previously tired-looking woman practically bolted from her chair, snatched up her short staff and shot past them out the door. Both Josie and the demon stared after her lamely for a moment before hurrying to catch up.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Josie asked, disturbed at Fiora¡¯s sudden urgency. ¡°What does it mean?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t send spies out to lurk at intersections.¡± She said shortly. ¡°That¡¯s where you would put a scout. Unless the thing just happened to be passing through, the enemy is making a move.¡±


    Gesturing with one hand as she walked, Fiora emerged into the courtyard area at the front of the complex and slammed her staff into the ground with an unnaturally loud, hollow booming noise. About ten guards were training there under Palina¡¯s watchful gaze. Off to one side, Yarrod, the gnome underkeeper, was facing off with a knife against a short human man. Everyone stopped at the loud noise and turned to look.


    ¡°Potential contact up toward the gate!¡± Fiora barked. ¡°Everyone with me. Move!¡±


    The guards exchanged uncertain glances for a moment, then Palina began bawling orders at them at the top of her lungs. They hadn¡¯t been in training long, but it was enough to get them lined up and moving. Yarrod caught up just a few moments later, carrying his new staff.


    It took them only a few minutes to make their way up toward the intersection, the main tunnel curving off toward the right and to the surface, and the smaller left-hand tunnel to where the army was stationed. Fiora called a halt and they looked around nervously. A few of the guards started muttering to each other, but Palina shushed them.


    Everything looked¡­ completely normal.


    Fiora turned to Jori.


    ¡°Anything?¡±


    The little imp¡¯s wings twitched and her needle-teeth were bared in a snarl, her eyes locked on the leftward tunnel. But nothing was moving there.


    A little hesitantly, Josie opened her third eye again. Was someone hiding in plain sight?


    She didn¡¯t see anything right away, but they all heard it. Steps approached, marching in unison. A few moments later, a small group of soldiers emerged, wearing Beseri uniforms and carrying spears. At a glance, nothing was wrong with them. Nothing except that they were all dwarves, that is.


    That, and Josie could clearly see the demonic souls riding along in two of them. Warlocks throughout time had attempted a wide range of different kinds of pacts and arrangements with demons, but sharing a body with one was, in Josie¡¯s opinion, by far the most foolish.


    A demon¡¯s soul didn¡¯t strictly need its own body to function on the material plane, so long as it resided in a body. A warlock who chose to accommodate a demon in this manner could gain full access to the creature¡¯s abilities. Of course, the demon would also gain access to the warlock¡¯s body to some degree. It was practically unavoidable. That alone made the practice illegal in Besermark, but the Solicitors further had their own internal policies against it.


    One of the dwarves had a fiery red aura, similar to Jori¡¯s. The other¡¯s was a muted gray, which meant she was looking at a demon from the first hell. These robbed souls of their will. If it was at least a class 3 demon, it could effectively paralyze living people into total complacency ¨C though probably only one at a time.


    None of them looked their way. Apparently, they didn¡¯t expect to be stopped.


    Taking a quick step, Josie tapped Fiora on the shoulder and explained what she was seeing. The older underkeeper had, of course, already noticed the dwarves and was already watching them with suspicion. It was remarkable that they''d made it past the army camp without raising any alarms ¨C probably the work of the demon with the gray aura.


    ¡°Which one is the most dangerous?¡± Fiora asked calmly.


    ¡°That one,¡± Josie replied, pointing at the one with the red aura. ¡°I''m guessing he¡¯ll probably try to set fire to the city. With hellfire.¡±


    Without wasting a second, Fiora leveled her staff at the offending dwarf. A brilliant lance of light shot out of it, but didn¡¯t strike the target. Another dwarf saw the motion and stepped directly into the attack, shielding him. He went down, his chest caved in unnaturally as if he¡¯d been crushed by a massive hammer. Blood ran from his mouth.


    Then, everything happened at once. Palina roared at her guards to move, the normal duergar soldiers turned to fight, and the two demon-possessed dwarves sprinted up the tunnel, disappearing around the bend.


    Josie summoned the claws of her midnight hag, trying to think of some way, any way, to stop those damned demons from getting up into the city when, up on the ceiling five paces above, she saw Jori scuttle after the offending creatures faster than a man could run, hissing in rage like a boiling kettle.

 2.11 Firefight

    Bernt slowly made his way down from the Upper District, sore and exhausted from a late afternoon sparring session with Therion. The other mage claimed he was getting better, but Bernt wasn¡¯t sure that was true ¡ª not judging by the beating he took every time.


    He was trying to think of new and creative ways to apply cantrips in a fight when he saw a massive plume of fire rise in the distance.


    It came from the crafter¡¯s district, and that just couldn¡¯t be a good sign. He couldn¡¯t be entirely sure, of course, but he knew this city well. Picking up his pace, Bernt hurried down the street, weaving around slow-moving pedestrians and the occasional cart. After reaching the internal gate that took him into the Lower District, he took a left. That would take him through the Temple District, which he¡¯d been avoiding for several weeks now.


    The Temple District was populated mostly by priests, paladins, and their families. While not all of them knew or cared about him personally, very few of the gods had a neutral policy toward demons or warlocks, and none had anything like a friendly outlook. He had to be careful. The gods themselves, fortunately, would likely know that he wasn¡¯t a real warlock, so he probably wouldn¡¯t have to fear a direct smiting for stepping too close to the wrong temple. But being recognized could cause some problems ¡ªit might slow him down.


    Right now, though, it was worth the risk.


    He hurried down the street, which opened up into a wide open plaza. It was ringed with temples, shrines, and even a tiny sacred grove. People bustled about, often dressed in the colors of specific deities, or in the brilliant white of unchosen acolytes. The temple of Garrus, where he¡¯d repaired a drainpipe just before his first dungeon delve, was located just around the corner from here. Relatively minor agricultural deities didn¡¯t rate placement directly on the main plaza.


    Taking care not to draw attention to himself, Bernt hurried across the plaza to the far side, which would take him directly into the Crafters¡¯ District. Everyone else seemed to either be looking toward the Crafters¡¯ District themselves, likely concerned about what was going on there, or completely ignoring the situation as if what went on outside their own temples was of no consequence to them.


    He almost made it across without incident, but then heard a familiar voice call his name.


    ¡°Hey, Bernt!¡± Syrah called out. ¡°Where are you off to so quick?¡±


    He looked back to see the cleric waving and hurrying toward him.


    ¡°Did you see the fire?¡± Bernt asked, letting her catch up before picking up the pace again. ¡°I think it was over by the breach. I kind of doubt it was an accidental alchemical explosion.¡±


    ¡°Yes, true enough.¡± Syrah said, frowning. ¡°Something isn''t right in that direction. Your demon friend, or one of her ilk.¡±


    Bernt narrowed his eyes a little, but didn¡¯t bother to argue. He wasn¡¯t going to change her mind.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to help. Are you coming?¡±


    She snorted and sped up, forcing Bernt into a trot to keep up.


    ¨C-------


    Bernt wasn¡¯t sure what exactly he was expecting to find when they arrived. Maybe the entire street in flames, the new gate collapsed, or a horde of duergar spilling out of the old breach.


    What he wasn¡¯t expecting to find was Jori dueling with a single, mad, hellfire-slinging dwarf. He could see the fight from her perspective in disorienting detail well before they reached the plaza in front of the Undercity Gates.


    The imp clung to the back of the dwarf¡¯s head and shoulders and poured fire down onto his face. At the same time, the dwarf blindly threw fire back at her over his shoulder and danced in a little circle, screaming incoherently. Both demonic combatants burned and howled in pain, but neither were consumed in the flames that ate into the cobbles beneath their feet. Jori jumped off the dwarf and flew back, landing hard on her back.


    He could feel the phantom sensation of a wing breaking as it was awkwardly bent underneath her. The green underkeeper guard who¡¯d been stationed at the new Undercity Gate stood a few steps away, clutching haplessly at his spear as if unsure what to do. Regular city guards were arriving as well, but they kept their distance as well. They were understandably not eager to throw themselves into a hellfire-fight. One passed his spear to another guard and ran off again, presumably to get help from someone who could deal with this.


    They would take too long, Bernt was sure.


    Further away, he glimpsed people watching from windows and around corners, but nobody moved to help. Considering what was happening, he couldn''t really blame them.


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    Horrific burn wounds closed almost immediately on both combantants. Pebbled scar tissue grew over them in seconds, and then faded and smoothed into new skin. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure how demons normally fought, but seeing that, he doubted he was going to get anywhere with his usual fire spells.


    ¡°Can you fight demons?¡± Bernt gasped out at Syrah, out of breath as they raced toward the fight. ¡°It¡¯s some kind of demonic warlock ¨C he¡¯s fighting Jori.¡±


    The dwarf shook her head. ¡°Do I look like a paladin to you?¡± She didn¡¯t slow down though, to her credit.


    Jori was back in the fight now, raking her claws down the back of the warlock dwarf¡¯s leg as it tried to keep moving into the city. Apparently it was more interested in getting somewhere than it was in winning the fight. That implied a specific target, beyond just getting up into the city and making a big mess.


    Concentrating, he brought up his wand and began tracing a spell in the air. It was a guess, but he figured it was a pretty good one, considering where he¡¯d found the spell. Even if it didn¡¯t, it would at least distract the monstrous duergar long enough for Jori to do something. He hoped.


    Cold fire, when he¡¯d finally gotten around to casting it at an old, rotting log down by the river the other day, didn¡¯t really do very much to physical objects. The wood had blackened and bubbled oddly, but nothing more.


    Casting it correctly would take him a moment, and he¡¯d need the time until they reached the fight up around the next corner. Thanks to his familiar bond with Jori, Bernt knew exactly where the dwarf was when he rounded the corner, facing mostly away from him. He slung bits of hellfire back at Jori as he limped off toward the far side of the small plaza, where several of the nervous city guards were waiting. They didn¡¯t want to fight the warlock, but they weren¡¯t going to let it run wild in the city, either.


    Bernt sprinted toward the warlock. He hadn¡¯t had time to modify the spell ¨C it was still just a loose cone of fire, not a fireball or anything that would cross the distance to the dwarf without also striking Jori or just diffusing into the air short of the target. He needed to close in quickly.


    When the dwarf noticed him and turned, Bernt was within just a few strides of him. It was close enough. With a snarl, he unleashed the spell.


    He was too slow.


    The warlock flung a hand toward him and lobbed what looked like a liquid gobbet of fire directly at him. The two attacks met in the air. Only then did Bernt realize that he¡¯d completely forgotten to remove the effects of his investiture from the spell. Rather than the plume of gray fire he expected, a broad stream of flickering, burning silver sprayed out against the dwarf¡¯s head and shoulders and splashed down onto his legs and feet.


    The ball of hellfire barely cut through the silver flames, coming out as little more than a translucent wisp of flame. Still, it flew true and struck Bernt¡¯s right arm with a sizzling hiss. Bernt gasped and shook his arm, as if trying to shake the fire off, but it was already out. Still, it hurt, radiating bone-deep pain all the way up to his shoulder.


    The screech that tore from the warlock¡¯s throat was too loud and high-pitched to come from a dwarf. It was inhuman agony tearing from a mortal throat. He flailed for a second, then dropped to his knees in shuddering silence. When the fire went out ¨C it couldn¡¯t have been more than two or three seconds ¨C the dwarf looked ruined. His skin was cracked and peeling off, charred black where it had curled away from the body.


    Unlike before, no hellfire gushed out of the wounds to close or regenerate his wounds.


    A soft hiss of pain escaped his lips, followed by a single ragged inhale, then Jori was on him. She sprang at him and tore out his throat with her long, clawed fingers. Hellfire gushed out, and Jori hissed in pain, but she reached in with her other hand and tore again as the flesh threatened to grow back.


    The enemy warlock died messily.


    Bernt groaned, cradling his wounded arm. He wiggled his fingers to make sure they still worked and breathed a sigh of relief when they did.


    Then Syrah was there, pulling up his sleeve to get a better look at the injury. A part of his lower arm was colored an angry red, with skin sloughing off the top in parts. At the center, the skin was burned clear through in a rough oval shape, and he could see burned flesh beneath. The robe hadn¡¯t been damaged, somehow. It must have slid down his arm when he was casting.


    She eyed the wound critically before laying her hand over it and muttering something under her breath. Then she took a small bottle from her belt and poured water out over the wound.


    The pain lessened almost immediately, as if he¡¯d plunged the arm down into a barrel of icy-cold water. He breathed a sigh of relief and sat down on the ground. Syrah bent down to follow the motion and kept murmuring her prayer.


    Bernt wasn¡¯t sure how long he sat there, but soon other people began to arrive. The city guards arrived first, several going to watch the gate, while one who looked like he might be in charge asked if anyone else had been hurt and if anyone had seen what caused the big explosion earlier.


    ¡°I saw it. I think it was some kind of alchemical device.¡± explained the gray-clad underkeeper guard, who¡¯d finally decided to join them. ¡°These two dwarves came running up out of the tunnel ¨C this one had a kind of strange-shaped bottle. It wasn¡¯t very big. When the imp came up after them and started throwing fire at them. I thought the demon was attacking our people at first. But then the weird dwarf¡¯s eyes glowed and he started throwing fire right back. The bottle got hit and you saw what happened then. I thought the fight was over. The other dwarf disappeared ¨C ran off or got blown up, I don¡¯t really know. This one was fine, though, barely a scratch.¡±


    The guards turned to look over at Jori, who was trying to wipe her claws off on the dead duergar warlock¡¯s shirt. While the dwarf was badly scorched, his clothes had taken relatively minor damage ¨C an effect of the cold fire, Bernt suspected. It interacted harshly with hellfire, and it prevented the demon from healing. If he was right, he¡¯d stumbled on something specifically designed to fight demons. He¡¯d have to see how it did against enemies that weren¡¯t suffused with infernal power.


    A challenge sounded from the Undercity Gate, and was met with an angry retort. A moment later, a small group of gray-uniformed underkeepers poured out onto the plaza, led by Fiora. A few looked injured, and Bernt wondered what exactly had happened down there. Had the uneasy peace finally broken?


    Josie ran out ahead and waved to Jori. ¡°Did you get them?¡±


    Jori shook her head, and Bernt felt regret echo through their familiar bond.


    ¡°Just the one.¡± she told the Solicitor. ¡°The other one got away.¡±

 2.12 Pursuit

    ¡°We need to find him, now!¡± Fiora insisted to the exasperated guard officer. ¡°He might be carrying an alchemical device like the other one, there¡¯s no way to know ¨C and no telling how much damage it could do if it was used in the wrong spot.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m aware of that,¡± the officer said through a long-suffering sigh. ¡°But we have strict jurisdictional boundaries. I can¡¯t just let you run around fighting and arresting people up here. I¡¯ve passed your report along already, and they¡¯re setting up checkpoints to intercept and stop any duergar as we speak. They might have passed for normal dwarves at first, but that¡¯s not going to work when our guards are actually paying attention.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the point!¡± Fiora fumed. ¡°He¡¯s a warlock, not just any duergar. Who knows what he could do if he just hid somewhere for a while? A hostile summoner in a city full of civilians? This is a disaster waiting to happen!¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, I am not underestimating the threat. We¡¯ve informed the Mages¡¯ Guild''s scryers and the Paladins¡¯ Hall and I¡¯d expect that a bounty will be up on the intruders¡¯ head with the Adventurers¡¯ Guild within a few minutes. You have your own area to worry about. Go make sure that you don¡¯t have a team like that bursting into your shiny new district while you¡¯re up here talking to me.¡±


    Fiora paced in agitation for a few seconds, then she spun and walked toward Bernt ¨C and right past him to face Josie, who he only then realized was standing right next to him. His eyes widened a little at the sight of her. The Underkeepers¡¯ Solicitor had, apparently, gotten her new gear. It was a long, open coat in dark gray to match her new colleagues. Underneath she had a sturdy armored vest made of artfully overlapping layers of heavy gray and dark red canvas. The entire thing was so heavily enchanted that Bernt could sense it from two steps away. It would probably stop a berserker, and it was much lighter than what he was wearing.


    ¡°Josie, you¡¯re free to go for the day.¡± Fiora announced before pointedly looking westward. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have other responsibilities to see to anyway. Go!¡±


    Josie blinked in surprise, but then simply nodded and started walking.


    The guard officer, whose eyes had been on them the entire time, watched her go a bit skeptically and grimaced slightly, but he didn¡¯t interfere. Bernt could practically see him decide that this wasn¡¯t his problem.


    ¡°Alright, everybody, back down to Headquarters,¡± Fiora said. ¡°We need to cover our end, and we need to get in contact with General Arice ¨C I doubt he even knows that his lines have been compromised.¡±


    Bernt whipped his head around in surprise. That was it? There was no way. Ed probably didn¡¯t even know what happened yet. He got up, testing his hand, and then moved to join the others. It felt as if he¡¯d never burned it in the first place. Syrah, he saw, was still working on a few of the other injured underkeepers. Her healing abilities were really quite something.


    Something hard poked him in the chest and Bernt stopped. He looked down and found the knobby handle of Fiora¡¯s staff planted there.


    ¡°Bernt,¡± Fiora chided, eyes narrowed. ¡°What are you doing at work on your day off?¡± She gave him a little push and he fell back a step. ¡°Go home.¡±


    Taking the hint, Bernt turned to follow Josie. As he did, he reached for Jori¡¯s mind with the familiar bond to nudge her to follow, only to realize that she was already gone. A quick glimpse through the bond revealed her racing along rooftops in a dizzying series of running leaps. She was already shadowing Josie from above and watching the streets for their quarry.


    Feeling a little unsteady at the transmitted sensations, he drew back his senses and hurried after.


    ¨C-------


    Josie jogged through the temple district toward the Solicitors¡¯ Office, being careful to give the temple of Balarian a wide berth. The god of storms had lost an entire congregation to an especially foolish orcish warlock about a century earlier. He¡¯d wiped the warlock from existence in retaliation, but his wrath wasn¡¯t satisfied ¨C he¡¯d still lost well over a hundred souls to the hells. Balarian had harbored more than a little ill will toward warlocks in general since then. It was best to steer clear of his temple whenever possible. Most warlocks avoided ship voyages for the same reason.


    Josie walked on the opposite side of the plaza, passing rather close to a few other temples that she was fairly sure no warlocks had specifically offended in recent history, when she saw it ¨C a dwarf was pushing through a small group of people who were just¡­ standing around, staring at nothing in particular. He had that same odd, gray aura around him.


    She rushed after, trying not to lose sight of him behind the taller pedestrians that stood between them. When she reached the group, they were just starting to look around in confusion ¨C the first sign of recovery from having their will drained. The demon had to be fairly powerful to affect multiple living people at once, class 4 at least.


    Fortunately, the denizens of the first hell weren¡¯t especially dangerous as demons went. They could incapacitate almost anyone, but a minor or lesser demon couldn¡¯t cause any lasting harm. As she pushed past them, she caught sight of the dwarf again as he stepped around a corner into a side street.


    She ran to catch up. If she could reach the other warlock before he got where he was going, she could probably stop him. Her own abilities wouldn¡¯t affect the demon, but the dwarf himself would be vulnerable.


    Turning the corner, Josie saw that the dwarf had stopped ¨C apparently he hadn¡¯t seen her following him. He¡¯d lifted a grate over a window well next to a large building and was trying to climb down into it.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Josie called out. ¡°Stop right there!¡±


    She needed to get closer. Just a bit.


    The dwarf stopped and looked at her, eyes widening. Then, just as he opened his mouth to speak, Josie screamed. It was a penetrating, hollow sound, like a windstorm tearing through a canyon. She didn¡¯t feel it¡¯s supernatural effect herself, except as a painfully cold liquid sensation that froze her throat as the sound escaped and instantly gave her a headache.


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    The dwarf froze, an expression of horror and deep despair written over his features. It only lasted a moment, then he shook his head and gritted his teeth. She was closer now, almost close enough to reach him. Josie summoned her claws and closed the distance.


    In the space of a heartbeat, the dark color bled out of the dwarf¡¯s eyes completely, leaving them completely gray. His face relaxed and he said, in a completely dead, toneless voice.


    ¡°Stop.¡±


    Stop what? Josie wondered. What had she been doing, exactly?


    ¡°It is done. You need not be concerned.¡±


    She stared at the dwarf and, right now, she just couldn¡¯t remember why he mattered. Rather, she couldn¡¯t work up the effort to think about it. Why bother?


    There was a hissing sound up above her, but she didn¡¯t look. It didn¡¯t mean anything. Nothing did.


    Something bright and hot seared into her vision before slamming down into the window well with a sizzling noise and an awful smell. It was hellfire, she knew, but the dwarf was gone. A small figure dove down after it.


    An imp.


    She watched it go by, disappearing down the hole.


    The imp¡¯s name was Jori.


    Jori was hunting the warlock. The warlock was bad ¨C an enemy. That meant that someone needed to stop him.


    As Josie began stringing concepts together into ideas, and ideas into the beginnings of a purpose, a hand landed on her shoulder. She looked up and found Bernt standing there. What was he doing here?


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asked, staring at her as if he was trying to see into her head.


    She nodded a little tiredly. ¡°Go. Don¡¯t let it talk to you. I¡¯ll be fine in a minute.¡±


    He looked unsure, but moved toward the window well as if he already knew where to go. Bernt already knew where Jori was, of course, or at least where she¡¯d been.


    There was a lot of information out there regarding what exactly a familiar bond was and what it enabled a mage and their bound familiar to do, but most of it was just based on rumors or badly outdated. Familiars just weren¡¯t very popular these days, so few people actually got to observe them. Besides, the Mages¡¯ Guild kept a tight lid on what they considered proprietary information, so existing publicly available records had a way of disappearing.


    Idly, Josie considered writing up a report on familiars based on Jori and Bernt. The Solicitors could surely use a reliable eyewitness report for their own local library. She would have thought that any constant telepathic connection to a demon would drive a mortal completely insane in a matter of hours. She¡¯d seen into the mind of a midnight hag for only a moment when she¡¯d received her third eye, and that was enough for lifetime. But Bernt wasn¡¯t insane - he was just crazy.


    That alone was enough, now that she really considered it. She should write a report about it.


    ¨C-------


    Bernt swung himself down through the broken window into the basement of the building, landing in a plain-looking hallway. Without hesitating, he ran forward to the third door on the left and stepped through ¨C following the path that he¡¯d just seen Jori take in pursuit of the strange dwarf.


    The dwarf had Jori by the throat, her feet kicking at nothing in the air as her claws gouged deep bloody furrows into his beefy forearms. She was panicking ¨C not thinking straight, or she would have simply melted the dwarf¡¯s face off with hellfire.


    Bernt wasn¡¯t sure how the dwarf had managed to catch her, but he was ready. He¡¯d begun casting the moment his feet touched the ground five seconds earlier and this time, he¡¯d even remembered to cast the spell correctly. Being careful not to hit Jori, Bernt unleashed cold fire at the dwarf, who¡¯d already started to turn to react to the new threat.


    As he did, a burning pain shot up his arm, radiating out from his hand and forearm. He flinched and hissed in pain as the spell fizzled and failed ¨C mostly. A thin wisp of fire licked across the duergar warlock¡¯s face and he gasped, dropping Jori as he drew what remained of the sorcerous flames right down his throat.


    His eyes bulged and he let out a wet and raspy sounding cough. Blood ran from his mouth.


    Bernt barely noticed. He was focused on his aching hand. What in the hells was going on? It felt almost like when he¡¯d strained his mana network during the battle against the kobolds a month earlier, but this time there had been no warning at all. Had he bungled the spell so badly? Or had it been that other warlock¡¯s hellfire back at the Undercity Gate?


    Bernt wasn¡¯t any kind of scholar, but he was sure that hellfire wasn¡¯t supposed to be able to do that ¨C at least not to a living person.


    When hellfire kindled in Jori¡¯s clawed hand, Bernt¡¯s heart almost seized in his chest. If she threw that around in here, she could easily set the entire building on fire ¨C never mind if the dwarf had another one of those firebombs on him.


    Jori let the fire go out and he breathed out a sigh of relief ¨C she¡¯d sensed Bernt¡¯s concerns and interpreted them correctly.


    The dwarf looked back and forth between them now, backing away and trying to say something, but nothing intelligible came out. His tongue and throat were both damaged. Jori advanced on him with an angry hiss, murderous intent radiating off her every movement. Her body tensed as she prepared to leap at him.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Josie gasped, standing in the doorway before pointing a finger right at the dwarf. ¡°Get down on the ground and keep your mouth shut tight! You¡¯re a prisoner of the Halfbridge Solicitors.¡±


    The dwarf glared at her and backed up another step, his back hitting a wall.


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Bernt said, ¡°Can you do that?¡± He hadn¡¯t been thinking in terms of taking prisoners, but even if they did, they would have to bring him to the city¡¯s dungeons. He was an enemy combatant, after all.


    Josie smirked smugly. ¡°According to Beseri law he¡¯s a rogue warlock, so yes. I¡¯m not on duty as an underkeeper, and I¡¯m pretty sure you aren¡¯t either. We couldn¡¯t arrest him on the Count¡¯s authority if we wanted to.¡± Her smirk bloomed into a feral smile. ¡°Which I don¡¯t. Also, if he doesn¡¯t cooperate we can just turn him over to the paladins in their primary training facility right up above us. I¡¯m guessing that was his target. They have jurisdiction in this area as well.¡±


    Gray, emotionless eyes flicked back and forth between the three of them. Then the dwarf reached a bloody hand down to a gap in his armor, pulled out an odd-looking vial and flung it down at the ground.


    Jori was faster. She¡¯d begun to pounce on the man the moment he started moving and extended a wing to adjust the jump in mid-air to go right past her original target. Bernt didn¡¯t see exactly what happened, but there was no gigantic fireball, toxic gas cloud or other indication of an alchemical attack.


    Jori rolled to her feet, revealing the undamaged vial clutched in one clawed hand and grinned, revealing needle-sharp teeth. She¡¯d caught it.


    Bernt glared angrily and drew the long knife at his belt. Josie just stood there expectantly, as if she¡¯d planned the whole thing.


    The dwarf dropped to his knees and lay down on the ground.

 2.13 Interrogation

    Getting the dwarf out of the Paladins¡¯ Hall discreetly was difficult, but they managed. At least, nobody raised any alarms and nobody tried to stop them. Discretion was important in a case like this ¨C the paladins likely would have objected to a demon, its weird mage handler and a warlock apprehending an enemy warlock in their basement. Once they were out, they simply walked the dwarf out of the Temple District while Jori followed more discreetly below street level.


    The prisoner, who still seemed to be completely under the control of some kind of demon, was surprisingly cooperative once he¡¯d surrendered. When they reached the Solicitors¡¯ building, Josie let them in through the side door and led them down a set of steps to a small series of cells, two of which were occupied. After locking the prisoner inside one of the open ones, she held a small healing potion out to him through the bars and offered a small mocking bow.


    ¡°Drink up, whisperer! Compliments of the Solicitors.¡±


    The dwarf took it wordlessly, and she turned to go.


    ¡°Uh, where are you going?¡± Bernt asked, eyeing the prisoner as he drank the red liquid down. He didn¡¯t like the idea of being left alone in here ¨C not if the prisoner could talk again and especially not if it could mean experiencing whatever had happened to Josie out there earlier.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to fetch Solicitor Radast.¡± Josie explained without slowing down. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, the cells are enchanted. He can¡¯t do anything. Just stay here for a minute.¡± Her steps stopped and she called back down the stairs. ¡°Uh¡­ don¡¯t talk to them, though ¨C they¡¯re dangerous!¡±


    Bernt looked around. It seemed like an unnecessary warning. None of the prisoners looked especially talkative ¨C they were huddled near the backs of their cells, in the shadows. With a shrug, Bernt pushed up his sleeve to check on his arm. It looked completely fine. There wasn¡¯t even any scarring. But he hadn¡¯t been able to cast.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with it?¡± Jori asked, peering at the hand. He could feel her worry ¨C she¡¯d probably felt him get burned.


    He shrugged at her. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I think that other warlock did something to me when he burned my arm.¡± Hellfire alone wasn¡¯t supposed to have this sort of effect, as far as Bernt knew. Granted, it usually did a lot more damage ¨C there shouldn¡¯t have been an arm left to heal. He shivered at the thought of how close it had really been. But his cold fire had weakened the attack somehow, or changed it. He couldn¡¯t really be sure exactly what happened.


    Hesitantly, he tried casting his torch spell ¨C the easiest cantrip he knew. Visualizing the spellform felt normal. A small, bright flame flickered to life over his open hand. It worked, but even as the light kindled, a bone-deep ache radiated up his arm. It hurt to channel more than a trickle of mana out through the arm.


    This was bad. He needed to talk to Syrah or maybe Ed or Iriala. Somebody who might know what happened and how to fix it. This was the second time his casting had become impaired from his dominant hand in just over a month ¨C not counting the alchemical poisoning he''d suffered in the limb. But that couldn''t be related. Could it?


    Bernt¡¯s train of thought was interrupted when the door opened and Radast stepped inside, followed closely by Josie. Quickly, he dropped the sleeve and stepped back to let them by.


    The head solicitor spared a quick glance for Bernt¡¯s spell, which still burned brightly over one of his shoulders, but he didn¡¯t comment. Instead, he stepped directly up to the bars and eyed his new prisoner dispassionately.


    ¡°Good afternoon,¡± he began in a calm, businesslike manner ¨C neither hurried nor patient. ¡°I¡¯d like to ask you a few questions about your presence and purpose here in Besermark ¨C and Halfbridge in particular.¡±


    The gray eyed dwarf stared back at him expressionlessly for a few seconds before answering. ¡°I am contractually bound not to reveal any information about the Duergar Empire or my pacted partner.¡±


    His voice was dry and emotionless, just like his face.


    ¡°Hmph. Well, at least they have some kind of contract.¡± Radast sniffed, turning away. ¡°Still, I would have thought that a civilization as old and respectable as the Duergar Empire would have more sense than to allow its warlocks to surrender themselves to possession.¡±


    The dwarf didn¡¯t answer or give any indication that he¡¯d even heard.


    ¡°Ah well, it was worth a try.¡± Radast turned to Bernt, acknowledging his presence for the first time. ¡°Underkeeper Bernard. Do you mind if I borrow your light?¡±


    Bernt nodded, and the warlock pulled a dense bundle of herbs from his pocket. He held it up to Bernt¡¯s torch spell until it caught fire, then extinguished the flame again with a practiced flick of his wrist. An unpleasantly acrid herbal smell filled the room.


    Wafting the smoke around in an odd circular motion, Radast chanted in an unfamiliar language. As he did, the dwarf¡¯s previously dead face began to twitch oddly before settling into a deep frown. Brown bled into the creature¡¯s eyes until they were left dark without a hint of their previous gray. The warlock hadn¡¯t done any magic, not directly. Bernt would have been able to sense it if he¡¯d actually channeled and shaped mana himself. But whatever he¡¯d done had worked. Was this ritual magic?


    ¡°Now, then. Let¡¯s try this again,¡± the warlock said pleasantly, though his expression was nothing less than predatory. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


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    The dwarf looked around nervously and frowned up at Radast. ¡°My name is Ksandr¡­ who are you?¡±


    ¡°Ah, isn¡¯t this better?¡± Radast smiled. ¡°My name is Solicitor Radast. You may call me Solicitor, or Solicitor Radast.¡±


    ¡°You have done a foolish thing, taking me as a prisoner.¡± Ksandr said, eyes narrowing. His Beseri was quite good, though he had a fairly strong guttural accent. ¡°They will know, and you will die. Nuros commands many silent watchers ¨C shades, eldritch eyes, and eaters of memory.¡± The strange dwarf''s voice grew increasingly strained as he talked and foam started collecting at the corners of his mouth. ¡°If none see, my own demon will deliver his knowledge of you when it returns. None may know our purpose, and so you will die.¡±


    Radast rolled his eyes. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure that¡¯s very interesting. Who is Nuros? Is it a general? A duergar prince?¡±


    ¡°A general,¡± the dwarf answered, voice turning raspy, ¡°A prince of sorts, perhaps ¨C an ascending star of the fifth circle. He is a servant of Varamemnon, the Devouring Maw.¡±


    ¡°Hail the Devourer.¡± An unsteady voice rattled out from another of the cells.


    ¡°Deeply he drinks from the well.¡± The last prisoner said in a smooth baritone and with a ritualistic cadence. He was a tall, powerfully built man. He¡¯d come right up against the bars to hear the duergar warlock¡¯s words, but he was staring at Jori with feverish intensity.


    A shiver ran down Bernt¡¯s neck, both at the creepy display, and because he had an idea of who this might be.


    Jori had seen him too. Her face contorted with rage and she summoned a fistful of sulfurous red hellfire, but Radast made a quick gesture with one hand and his shadow flickered forward to fall across Jori¡¯s body for a moment. The flames simply vanished, as if extinguished under a heavy blanket. Jori hissed and shook out her hand. The shadow had stung her, somehow.


    ¡°Well, well. This is interesting. Finally we¡¯re getting somewhere with all this,¡± the solicitor hummed, seeming completely unruffled. ¡°Underkeeper Bernard, Dzhorianath ¨C I believe it would now be appropriate for you to go and be debriefed by your superiors. Archmage Thurdred will wish to learn of our findings and have an opportunity to speak with our guest himself. I will see to it that Count Narald and other relevant stakeholders are informed. Please relay our compliments to the Archmage and reiterate to him that, as per our agreement, he will enjoy our full cooperation in all matters pertaining to the current situation.¡±


    Bernt had questions, but this seemed like a bad time and place to argue. He needed to talk to someone about his arm, and he wanted to get Jori out of here and away from the tall man. She was afraid of him, and her fear was making him uneasy in turn.


    So, instead of saying anything, Bernt just nodded and headed for the door, picking up a shivering Jori and carrying her out in his arms. As he passed her, he noticed Josie giving them a strange, bemused look.


    ¨C-------


    Bernt and Jori went to find Ed first, at the Underkeepers¡¯ old headquarters. Bernt explained what happened as quickly as he could, including the apparent spiritual damage to his arm, with Jori adding both helpful and not-so-helpful details to better illustrate her role in the day¡¯s events. Ed¡¯s scowl deepend as they talked, though he looked more thoughtful than upset.


    ¡°Hmm. Well... there¡¯s not much point in speculating about your arm right now. Just rest it for a few days and see how well you recover naturally.¡± He rose from his chair and began collecting his things. ¡°I need to go visit with the Solicitors. You should go home. You¡¯re not even supposed to be working today, fool boy.¡±


    He was nearly out the door when he stopped and turned back to him. He met Bernt''s eyes for a second, and gave him a considering nod, followed by a firmer one. "You did good today, both of you. This is going to win you a bit of goodwill, facing down an enemy warlock out in the open like that. The rest of us, too. The paladins aren''t going to like being saved, especially by the two of you and the solicitor girl, but they aren''t ingrates, either. Mostly, anyway."


    He nodded one more time and turned away. "Alright. Now go on and get out of here. I need to lock up."


    -------


    By the time they returned to the Undercity Gate, night had fallen. The pleasant yellow-green light emanating from the tunnel ceiling gave the place a warm, inviting air, not at all like the sewer-based dungeon entrance that it had been just a few weeks before.


    Bernt¡¯s spirits lifted at the sight and he waved to Palina, who was once again manning the guard station and sipping on a steaming cup of tea that she raised to him in reply. Everything looked calm and peaceful ¨C the only indication that anyone had been flinging hellfire around here just a few hours ago was a few square feet of smooth, glassy-looking cobblestone that had melted slightly in the unnatural fire¡¯s incredible heat.


    ¡°I thought you already worked the day shift,¡± he asked as they got close enough to talk.


    Palina shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m filling in for one of the gobbos ¨C signed myself up for a bit of overtime. The poor little guy took a spear right in the stomach. That healer you showed up with took care of it, but she said that he should lay down for a day or two to be sure. Gut wounds are always a mess. Someone will be around to relieve me soon.¡± She leaned forward, raising a conspiratorial eyebrow. ¡°I heard a rumor that you and the solicitor girl dragged the other one of those warlocks out from under the Paladins¡¯ Hall.¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°Uh. Yea¡­¡± He didn¡¯t realize that word would get around so fast, though it made sense. They¡¯d pulled Ksandr the warlock up out of the window right onto a public street.


    ¡°I snatched his alchemical bomb right out of the air!¡± Jori said proudly, making a snatching motion to illustrate. ¡°He was going to burn down the whole building, probably, but I stopped him.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Palina asked, eyebrows rising as Jori nodded emphatically. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s a good target. They¡¯re relying pretty heavily on their warlocks. What did you do with the bomb?¡±


    ¡°The solicitors took it,¡± Bernt replied, ¡°and good riddance.¡± It had been a fragile little thing ¨C a thin vial with three separate chambers, each of which were filled with some kind of liquid. It wasn¡¯t hard to guess what would happen if it broke. He hadn¡¯t wanted to touch the damned thing, and Josie had been only too glad to carry it. The Solicitors would probably want to study it. In his professional opinion, it was an inelegant and dangerous way to harness fire. A fireball wouldn¡¯t just go off accidentally and roast him where he stood if he tripped.


    Palina looked nonplussed at his response, but didn¡¯t question it further. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad we had Jori there to fight the big bad warlocks for us. Word¡¯s getting around about the fight here on the plaza, too. I heard a couple of dwarves talking about it on their way down below about an hour ago.¡± She winked down at Jori. ¡°You¡¯re getting famous!¡±


    Bernt snorted and waved again as he started making his way down the tunnel. Jori was always going to draw attention, but it remained to be seen whether that would ultimately work out well for either of them.

 2.14 New Neighbors

    Bernt woke to a quiet whimpering noise. It was mostly dark, with just a bit of light coming in through one of the open windows. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get his bearings.


    He was in his new home in the Undercity. The low light was filtering in through the windows from the tunnel¡¯s luminescent flora.


    The sound came again, and Bernt quickly cast a torch spell to give him some light. It didn''t feel quite right, but it worked. Jori was curled up on her bed ¨C Bernt had managed to shape a rough stone bench with a slight depression in the middle for her, and she¡¯d loaded her bedding material into it last night. She wasn¡¯t sleeping easily. Her wings twitched and she hissed, batting at the air with one clawed hand. Then she flinched and whimpered again.


    ¡°Jori?¡± Bernt got up and reached over to nudge her shoulder. Her eyes popped wide open and she flinched back, looking wildly all around.


    ¡°Agh! Wha¨C?¡± Her eyes locked on Bernt and she sagged with relief.


    ¡°What were you dreaming about?¡± he asked curiously. Jori didn¡¯t usually have nightmares. For that matter, she didn¡¯t sleep very much. Most days, she was out hunting before he even woke up. ¡°Was it the fight yesterday?¡±


    The little imp had suffered horrific burns and other injuries. Sure, they¡¯d healed almost instantly, but he couldn¡¯t imagine that kind of regeneration came without any kind of cost.


    Jori shook her head.


    ¡°No, it was the other place. We were being hunted. It was the fiends..." She was breathing a little too fast, and her eyes darted around the room. "They always went after the spawnlings, because we were the smallest. They would stalk our entire pack and pick us off, one by one.¡±


    Jori stopped, staring at nothing for a second. ¡°When I was spawned there were hundreds of us. Now¡­ I don¡¯t know. When I was pulled over here it was maybe fifty.¡± She looked up at him, seeming¡­ smaller, somehow, than normal. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m the only one left?¡±


    Bernt blinked. Jori had never really talked about the hells at all, much less mentioned anything like friends or family. He had no idea that imps lived in herds or packs. He wasn¡¯t even sure that the warlocks knew. Demons didn¡¯t have a sense of community or collective ¨C it was one of the first and only things he¡¯d ever been taught about them back at the Academy. He wanted to ask more about it, but this didn''t seem like the time for it. Maybe he could ask Josie.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said. ¡°But you¡¯re safe now, and you¡¯re not small or weak anymore. I don¡¯t think anyone can just casually hunt you like they did when you were a spawnling.¡±


    Jori looked up at Bernt, her face firming. ¡°I¡¯m going to find them, someday. I will.¡±


    Bernt nodded to her encouragingly. ¡°Okay, good. Are you alright?¡± He held out a bit of spicy rat jerky to her. She grabbed it and nodded.


    ¡°Yes. I''m alright. Let¡¯s go to work.¡±


    Only as Bernt got dressed did he realize what it meant that his spell had worked almost normally. His hand felt a little odd ¨C sort of a low, electric tingle in his palm, but nothing like the day before. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief ¨C it wasn¡¯t perfect, but he was recovering from the injury he¡¯d suffered the day before. He¡¯d have to try a harder spell later.


    ¨C--------


    When they stepped out into the street, Bernt found the place transformed. He¡¯d noticed that more of the homes were occupied when they came home last night ¨C there had been lights on in many of the gaping windows, and more traffic down in the market area. Now, in the morning, the street outside was alive with people going about their business.


    Hammering echoed from across the street, where a dwarven carpenter was using a plumb line to adjust the same door frame that he¡¯d watched his new goblin neighbors try to install by themselves two days before. As he watched, the green-skinned woman leaned out of the unshuttered window to hand the dwarf a cup of something hot to drink.


    In fact, the dwarf was looking quite popular in the new neighborhood. Another goblin was talking to him as he worked, and a few others stood nearby along with an uncomfortable-looking gnome.


    Bernt was a little surprised to see a gnome here, but he supposed he shouldn¡¯t have been. Looking around at the trickle of traffic moving briskly along the street in front of his home, he realized that the neighborhood really wasn¡¯t quite as homogeneously goblin-centric as he¡¯d thought. There were a handful of other gnomes walking around, some heavily tattooed humans who Bernt assumed might be adherents of some kind of shamanistic practice, and a weather-beaten dwarf who was either working here or who wanted to defy expectations by moving into the goblin quarter. He even saw a gnoll pulling along a cart full of boxes, probably about to move in somewhere down the way.


    And all of them still needed doors. Who would have thought that a new underground district full of stone dwellings would be so good for the city¡¯s carpenters?


    Bernt hoped that his own carpenter would get around to fitting his doors and windows soon. He¡¯d had to pay in advance, and the prices were quite a bit higher than he¡¯d been expecting. He was almost completely out of coin for the first time in years. His next pay day was over a week away, but the castellan still owed him a few silver marks for his twice-weekly teaching gig at the orphanage.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    It would be enough. Probably. There was no sense in worrying about it now.


    ¡°Hey there, neighbors!¡± a voice called from behind him. Bernt turned to find a goblin in a gray guard uniform approaching him. He was thin and tall for a goblin, nearly reaching to Bernt¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Uh, hi,¡± Bernt said in reply. He''d seen him before, but couldn''t quite remember his name. ¡°Are you heading in to work?¡±


    ¡°Yup!¡± the goblin said cheerfully and started walking alongside them. ¡°I¡¯m relieving my dad over in the Underworks. He was on night patrol."


    "My name¡¯s Nirlig.¡± He added a second later with a little wink, correctly interpreting Bernt''s squinty greeting. He looked down at Jori and pressed his hands together in some kind of greeting or salute. ¡°You¡¯re the demon that got into that crazy firefight with the duergar warlock yesterday, right? Dhzori?¡±


    He pronounced it slightly differently, overemphasizing the first consonant.


    ¡°Uh¡­ Yes? What are the ¡®Underworks¡¯?¡± Jori asked, echoing Bernt¡¯s own thoughts.


    The goblin beamed at her as if he''d been hoping she would ask exactly that.


    ¡°It¡¯s what the dwarves are calling their new little crafting quarter! Many of the dwarven crafters are moving in, even coming directly from the crafter¡¯s district. They just like it better underground, I guess. Dwarves, you know? I hope we can get a troll or two to move here now. They¡¯re not very sociable, but their shamans can do some incredible things with stone.¡±


    Bernt hummed skeptically. ¡°I don¡¯t think any trolls are going to move into Halfbridge¡­ they¡¯re not protected by the treaty. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the Adventurer¡¯s Guild issued a quest to kill any that tried.¡±


    The goblin shrugged, unconcerned. ¡°Laws can change. You humans gave up on fighting us, and trolls have a lot to offer. At least as long as you¡¯re respectful.¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡± Bernt allowed. ¡°But what do you mean about troll shamans? Do you mean they can get spirits to help them work stone? And if that¡¯s right, why wouldn¡¯t a goblin be able to do that?¡±


    Nirlig shrugged. ¡°Goblins are forest people, so we speak to forest spirits. The trolls are one with the mountains, so their shamans speak to the mountain spirits. I can¡¯t hear whatever spirits wander around in the tunnels here, or up in the city. It should work here, though, with so many of us. We¡¯ll need to develop the environment for a little while before we can get any of ours to come down.


    What? Bernt did a double take. ¡°You¡¯re a shaman?¡± He looked like any other goblin. Then again, so did Grixit. Now that he considered it, he¡¯d always just assumed that shamans would wear some kind of distinctive clothing, like priests or mages. But if they were also crafters and enchanters and the like, he supposed that might not be how it worked at all.


    ¡°Me? No.¡± Nirlig laughed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t join the guard if I had that kind of influence. Besides, figuring out proper rituals and stuff to get their help is way too hard. I just chat with them sometimes. Kind of weird that humans don¡¯t really ever seem to. They don¡¯t bite or anything. Usually. As long as you¡¯re polite.¡±


    Bernt looked over at Jori. She was barely paying attention, skipping and spreading her wings to slow her descent as they walked when there was enough space to do so.


    ¡°Uh¡­ I didn¡¯t know we could. I don¡¯t think most people do.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a secret.¡± Nirlig laughed. ¡°They just don¡¯t care. You don¡¯t have any shamans, and we¡¯re just savages who live in holes in the ground out in the forest, right?¡±


    The goblin said the words lightly, like a joke, but Bernt heard the bitter undertone. It was too close to the truth to be funny.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Bernt said, matching the goblin¡¯s tone. ¡°I found out recently that you guys use spirits to enchant armor and such. I¡¯d love to know more about that. I mean, who wouldn¡¯t?¡±


    Nirlig grinned at him. ¡°I guess you met Grixit? That guy¡¯s a genius. I mean, almost any shaman can get items infused, sure, but he can get you practically anything.¡±


    ¡°Uh. I thought you just get a spirit to do it¡­¡±


    ¡°Sure. Just. It sounds simple enough, I guess, but that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s easy. The really tricky thing with infusing stuff is communicating what you want to an incorporeal being whose entire existence is a reflection of some kind of natural phenomenon. And which is immortal ¨C at least in the conventional sense. It can take a shaman years to finally get a spirit to grasp what they actually want, and they have to make sure to be patient and polite about it, too. And it¡¯s not like they all agree on what''s polite and what isn¡¯t. I guess you could think of it like explaining color to a blind god and then asking them to make you something mauve.¡±


    Bernt¡¯s estimation of Grixit went up a notch. ¡°So, he¡¯s like a spirit-whisperer?¡±


    Nirlig rolled his eyes. ¡°What do you think a regular shaman is? No, Grixit¡¯s a genius because he can understand them better than anyone else. If you can grasp how they think, you can work out how to communicate with them for all kinds of purposes, and how to trade for things.¡± The goblin gave him a slightly patronizing glance. ¡°Well, you can¡¯t communicate with them, but the rest of us would be able to ¨C goblins, I mean.¡±


    Bernt considered that for a moment. Sure, he had no talents in that direction, but that wasn¡¯t true of everyone. But he didn¡¯t mention what he¡¯d learned about bards ¨C that some humans clearly could communicate with spirits, and that they did so successfully enough to create their own enchanted ¨C or ¡°infused¡± tools. He didn¡¯t really know how all that worked and besides, it wasn¡¯t his secret to tell. Blabbing to anyone about guild secrets was never a good idea.


    He considered asking about it further, but they emerged into the Undercity Market which was already coming to life with stalls from goblins, gnomes, dwarves and humans looking to capitalize on the traffic that streamed from the new neighborhoods through the market and up into the city, where most of them still worked ¨C for now.


    ¡°You know. It¡¯s fine.¡± Bernt said, casting a torch spell over one raised hand. ¡°We don¡¯t have shamans, but goblins don¡¯t really have mages. We¡¯re all here now ¨C think of what we can do together!¡±


    Nirlig¡¯s seemingly inexhaustible smile widened.

 2.15 Acolyte

    Nirlig, as it turned out, was a true people person. Bernt thought he¡¯d done reasonably well, getting to know the names of a few of the newbies and helping Lin, the matronly goblin witch, to heat her tea the previous morning.


    But Bernt was apparently an amateur when it came to socializing. The gregarious goblin knew practically everyone. As they entered the Underkeepers'' headquarters he saw and greeted the door guard, a dwarf that Bernt couldn¡¯t remember seeing before, by name. He waved to and greeted every goblin, dwarf and gnome they passed in the halls, saying hello and inquiring about pets or minor personal details in passing.


    How had he possibly gotten to know so many people in... what, a few days? Then again, watching him go, it was easy to see how. It was impressive to watch as he finished one passing chat to begin another, all without missing a beat, slowing down, or failing to hear what anyone else was saying.


    They were about to turn the corner into the break room ¨C where Bernt hoped to snag another cup of Lin¡¯s tea before starting the day, when a door clicked open and a familiar voice rang down the hallway.


    ¡°Now listen here, you old bastard. I know better than anyone that I can¡¯t stop my son from making naive, foolish decisions, but by Oreleth, you¡¯ll keep him well out of harm¡¯s way or I don¡¯t care what it costs ¨C I¡¯m going to come for you. Do you understand me?¡±


    A portly man in a stylish and highly decorated city guard¡¯s uniform came around the corner, following half a step behind Ed, who looked more annoyed than threatened by his words. Bernt recognized him as Guard Commander Righmond as they walked past the little group, neither taking notice of him or his companions.


    ¡°The entire Undercity is ¡®in harm¡¯s way¡¯, relatively speaking ¨C that was kind of the point!¡± Ed sighed and shook his head at the other man. ¡°But I¡¯m not going to send your kid out to fight duergar just because you¡¯re an asshole. He¡¯ll be fine. He¡¯ll get some training and a little discipline, maybe pick up a few skills and do some patrolling. He can make friends here who will watch his back. Listen, I¡¯ve trained a lot of green recruits in my day....¡±


    The two vanished around another corner, and their voices grew too indistinct to make out.


    What was all that about? Shaking his head, Bernt stepped into the break room and headed for the little kitchen in the corner. He¡¯d already taken a few steps when he noticed that it was oddly quiet. Not silent, just... muted. There were a lot of people in the room, sitting around tables and murmuring softly to one another, totally unlike the dull roar that had filled the place the previous day.


    It only took Bernt one quick look around to find the source of the odd mood in the room. A young man wearing an expensive looking white tunic sat awkwardly at a table in one corner. He had a scabbarded sword leaned against the wall next to him, and he was the only one in the room out of uniform. Then again, nobody in their right mind wore brilliant white tunics ¨C they were impossible to keep clean. There was only one place in the city where people walked around dressed like that ¨C the Temple District. The others threw glances his way that ranged from curious to uncomfortable.


    They kept their distance and no one approached him. No one except Nirlig, of course. As the friendly goblin finished another quick conversation, all the while sampling someone¡¯s drink at their insistence, he moved directly over to the newcomer and settled down at his table. As he did, Jori jumped up onto the table next to him. The human flinched back and looked nervously between them, but then took Nirlig¡¯s proffered hand.


    Bernt could already guess who this had to be. Wondering briefly if he was going to regret this, he gathered up four cups, heated a bit of fresh water with a cantrip, and went looking for Lin¡¯s bag of tea.


    ¨C--------


    ¡°¡ªheard that the Underkeepers were fighting them,¡± the young man was saying as Bernt walked up with the tea. ¡°Paladins don¡¯t get chosen for their inaction. They¡¯re supposed to put themselves between the faithful and the forces of evil. Instead, we got saved from a warlock infiltrator yesterday by a handful of Underkeepers. It¡¯s the last straw! I can¡¯t just sit around up there anymore, I need to get out there!¡±


    ¡°That was me!¡± Jori said happily. ¡°Bernt and I, and Josie the Solicitor went under the Paladin¡¯s Hall and caught him! He had a nasty alchemical fire thing, too.¡± Jori held out her hands to illustrate its size and shape. ¡°He tried to throw it, but I caught it right out of the air!¡±


    The acolyte, seemed¡­ well, he was looking a little green around the gills and staring at the little imp. All things considered, though, he still seemed surprisingly amenable to sharing a table with a demon and a goblin.


    A second passed, then he made a strange noise and threw up his hands in obvious frustration. ¡°That¡¯s even worse! I can¡¯t believe none of the temples sent any paladins to support the Underkeepers when it became clear that this would be the second line of defense behind the army.¡±


    ¡°So, I guess they didn¡¯t send you, either?¡± Bernt set down the cups and passed one to him. ¡°I¡¯m Bernt.¡±


    ¡°Uh. hi. I¡¯m Torvald,¡± he answered, looking a little relieved to see another human. He gestured down at his white attire. ¡°And no, of course not. I¡¯m not a paladin yet! I haven¡¯t been chosen. Most of us just work in the Temple District until we get our first calling. But I¡¯ve always known where I¡¯m supposed to be. Most of the gods who choose paladins reward initiative. So, why wait to do the right thing? I signed up as a recruit.¡±


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re glad to have you!¡± Nirlig said encouragingly. ¡°We¡¯ve got the mages, a witch, two druids, a thief, a warlock and a bunch of skilled fighters of different kinds. And Jori here ¨C I don¡¯t know exactly how she fits, but she works here too! No clerics and no paladins by my count until you showed up.¡± The goblin smiled. "But there''s plenty of room in the organization!"


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    The young man tore his wide eyes from Jori to blink at him.


    ¡°Uh. A witch?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re sort of like a self-taught hedge mage that incorporates alchemy and ritual magic to whatever effect they can manage,¡± Bernt explained, ¡°Usually to act as a rudimentary healer of some kind for someplace that doesn¡¯t have healing potions¡­ or clerics¡­¡± he trailed off, interrupted by Nirlig¡¯s snorting laugh.


    ¡°Haha. Maybe human witches, sure. Goblin witchcraft is an ancient tradition,¡± the goblin explained, eyes gleaming with humor. ¡°It¡¯s hardly the same as a human villager playing with herbs. That tea there will keep you going all day and make sure you sleep like a baby tonight.¡±


    Surprised, Bernt opened his mouth to ask what, exactly, goblin witches were capable of, but was interrupted by the sound of a bell. It echoed through the halls, striking four times, and Nirlig got up, downing his cup in a single gulp.


    ¡°Alright, I have to go. That¡¯s the signal for change of shift. It was wonderful to meet you all. I¡¯ll see you around!¡±


    Jori scampered after him, chattering at him about how she fit in just fine, thank you, and that she was an ''integral part of the Underkeepers¡¯ peacekeeping and counterterrorism operations'' ¨C where had she picked up a phrase like that?


    Bernt put it out of his mind and looked curiously at his tea, trying to sense any mana in it. He couldn¡¯t. With a shrug, he rose as well and nodded to the incipient paladin, who was still watching the departing goblin and imp. ¡°Alright, I need to go pick up my assignment. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see you around soon.¡±


    Bernt hadn¡¯t actually done any guard duty so far, and hadn¡¯t even realized that they had a signal bell ¨C though he supposed it made sense. Had the others been briefed on all this? He''d only been off work for a single day!


    ¨C---------


    Bernt wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d been expecting ¨C maybe normal maintenance or pest management duties, or trying to root out other potential infiltrators. Could there really have only been just one patrol of dwarves that got through? Instead, he found himself sitting in a quiet room alongside Kustov, Yarrod, Dayle and Fiora detailing the correct procedures for identifying, handling and disposing of a variety of controlled alchemical substances under Ed¡¯s stern gaze. Jori somehow talked Palina into assigning her to ¡°help¡± Nirlig guard a new access stairwell that someone, probably Kustov, had built to connect the new Underworks directly to the Crafters¡¯ District.


    The two chatted like old friends about how convenient the stairs would be for daily commuters, who would otherwise have to walk nearly half an hour down through the Undercity Gate, down the tunnel, through the Undercity Market and then through the left hand tunnel to circle back underneath the Crafter¡¯s District.


    Bernt did his best to tune them out and got to work.


    An hour into the process, he shook out his cramping hand and silently thanked Aedina, the goddess of knowledge, that he¡¯d spent so much time studying the procedures. In practice, Underkeepers almost never encountered any of these substances. By the time they reached a contaminated site, they were usually diluted into the water or fully spent on whatever effect they had ¨C spawning slimes, killing or mutating the local fauna, or just setting the entire sewer aglow. After that, they usually weren¡¯t dangerous to touch ¨C if anything remained at all.


    Bernt had little trouble answering the questions, but he couldn¡¯t shake a sense of unease as he worked. Why were they sitting here taking a test when they¡¯d been fighting duergar infiltrators just yesterday? Ed hadn¡¯t said anything about it. Shouldn¡¯t they be preparing for¡­ something? Anything?


    When they finished, they followed Ed back to his office with the tests, where he barely glanced over them before slapping them down into a drawer and signing a waste management certification for each of them, which he immediately dumped on top of the other papers in the same drawer.


    Fiora cleared her throat. ¡°Damn it, Ed. There¡¯s a brand new filing cabinet right behind you.¡±


    Ed narrowed his eyes at her for a moment. Then sighed, put down his pipe and heaved himself up out of his chair, extracting the entire mess back out of his drawer to go hunting for the correct file folder.


    ¡°Should hire a secretary around here.¡± The old man grumbled under his breath. ¡°Iri has a secretary, sort of. Got to do every damned thing myself around here.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± He finished, slamming the cabinet shut with a satisfied air. ¡°That¡¯s taken care of. That means we can finally deal with this backlog of reports from the alchemists. Those idiots have been driving me crazy ¨C it¡¯s their own damned fault it took so long to get around to them.¡±


    Bernt stared at Ed, his vague sense of unease finally spilling over.


    ¡°Ed. Why are we getting sent up for maintenance work?¡± he asked. ¡°We got attacked yesterday, and the new guards have barely even started training. Shouldn¡¯t we be doing something?¡±


    Ed shrugged. ¡°We¡¯re doing plenty. The Mages¡¯ Guild has a handful of abjurers working on warding the stone to keep out sappers ¨C they even hired Janus from the Adventurers. Once they finish, it¡¯ll be very difficult to attack Halfbridge¡¯s most critical areas from below. At least without being detected long before they break through. The army¡¯s watching its own lines, which screens us from the bulk of their forces, and we¡¯re here keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity on the street.¡±


    Bernt looked from Ed over at the others.


    ¡°War¡¯s mostly just waitin¡¯ around.¡± Dayle said. ¡°It¡¯s not even a war yet, really. This here all is just foreplay. They¡¯re gonna cry big crocodile tears about rogue elements in their ranks or somethin¡¯ for a few days ¨C maybe it¡¯ll settle back down, or maybe they¡¯ll try something. Or maybe the general will lose his patience and go lookin¡¯ for trouble. It¡¯s not up to us. So, you know... might as well get some work done before the fires start.¡±


    Ed grunted in agreement. ¡°Work doesn¡¯t stop for fighting more than it has to. Especially infrastructure maintenance and repair. But you¡¯re not going to be visiting any alchemists. I doubt that they¡¯d do anything to you now, but I think I¡¯d rather keep you away from them after all that nonsense last month. Besides, I have another project for you. We have a new recruit who showed up at my door last night. Might be useful to have around if we can train him up a bit.¡±


    ¡°Torvald?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°The white-shirt from the Temple District?¡±


    Ed nodded, eyebrows rising in mild surprise. ¡°You met him? That¡¯s good. Yes. He seemed awfully fired up to go fight demons or some such nonsense. I don¡¯t want him to get the wrong idea of what we do here, so I want you to grab him and Josie from the training yard and start working the west side of the Lower District. We haven¡¯t been down there in a while, because there weren¡¯t any complaints ¨C but there never are. You¡¯ll want to grab one of the big carts from the old office.¡±


    Bernt suppressed a groan.


    When was he going to get some good, clean guard duty? Just sitting around at a guard station or patrolling around in the street sounded incredible compared to scratching months-old muck out of under-maintained sewer grating and rooting out nests of unidentifiable mutants.


    At least he¡¯d have two people to help him out, though he couldn¡¯t imagine that a warlock and a temple acolyte would work together very well.

 2.16 Siege

    Iriala kept her face carefully neutral as Radast gave the count an over-embellished bow and nodded graciously to the assembled leaders of the various guilds, the temples and the military.


    He was enjoying this far too much ¨C it wasn¡¯t appropriate considering the circumstances.


    The warlock¡¯s shadow, she noticed, was playing at being normal today, though looking closely, she could tell that it was a little too dark compared to the others in the room.


    ¡°I am honored to present important intelligence to your grace today,¡± the warlock began. The count would certainly have already seen the report, but it was traditional to pretend that everyone was hearing things for the first time at functions like this.


    ¡°One of my associates detained a rogue warlock belonging to the Duergar forces,¡± he continued, ¡°and I¡¯ve spent the past two days interrogating the prisoner to obtain information regarding the disposition and purpose of our adversaries.¡±


    A well-dressed dwarf cleared his throat self-importantly. ¡°Ahem. Alleged adversaries,¡± he corrected.


    Right. This would be Pavrosh, the representative of the aspirationally-named Mercantile Guild. In actuality, they were a sort of overgrown Teamsters¡¯ Union that managed trade caravans between cities.


    By now, even the official reports suggested that the Duergar were seizing territory in the Depths near other Beseri cities. Even the Empire, which actually tried to maintain an underground buffer zone early in its history, had abandoned the attempt when two of its legions and several smaller garrisons had simply disappeared without a trace. While several cities had a presence underground, nobody could seriously claim to control any significant amount of the three-dimensional maze of tunnels and caverns that wormed their way underneath all of Besermark and beyond.


    As far as Iriala knew, almost nobody expected the dwarves to simply back off from the current standoff. Nobody, that was, except a few delusional traders and merchants. Some probably just feared what a war might do to the country¡¯s trade routes, but she imagined others were still hoping to open trade with the Duergar Empire.


    Idiots. Sure, and maybe they just wanted to set up convenient trading posts near all of Besermark''s most important urban centers. With their military, and without announcing their intentions.


    ¡°They detonated an alchemical incendiary device in the Crafters¡¯ District,¡± Radast answered dryly. ¡°And our current prisoner was apprehended with another such device beneath the Paladins¡¯ Hall. The circumstances, considered alongside the prisoner¡¯s testimony, should be more than enough to establish their hostile intentions.¡±


    As he said this, he gave another gracious nod toward the small group of paladins and priests situated off to the side of the room. One of the paladins, an elderly man who wore armor that could hardly be more than symbolic at this point, gave him a good-natured nod back, accompanied by a small smile. The other paladin and both of the priests that were sitting with him glowered with barely restrained hostility. Iriala thought about figuring out what was going on there, but decided against it. Temple District politics were too confusing, even for her.


    Each paladin and priest served their own gods, but they also worked together on some level. Various temples coordinated their actions mostly based on how their particular gods got along with each other, and how their respective theologies aligned on various issues. Confusingly, gods who were well-aligned philosophically might not always get along, while ones who had radically opposing ideas might work together closely at times. As a result, you could never really tell what kind of internal politics was going on in the Temple District if you didn¡¯t fully understand both the history and the current relationships and interests of all the gods represented in the city. In short, it was a mess. Fortunately, that particular kind of mess practically never concerned her or the Mages¡¯ Guild.


    By now, the fool dwarf had stood up and puffed out his chest, getting ready to launch a rebuttal, but Narald waved him to silence before he could get a word out, annoyance plain on his face.


    ¡°Yes, yes. Get on with it solicitor.¡±


    Radast stood up straighter and bowed once more, his shadow mirroring the motion perfectly.


    ¡°The Duergar warlock was possessed by a whisperer ¨C a demon of the first hell. After suppressing the demon¡¯s influence, I put it to the question, only to find that not only he, but also two of the other rogue warlocks currently in detention¡ª.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes.¡± Narald cut him off. ¡°I¡¯ve read the report, man. Just give us the intelligence, I¡¯m a busy man. If these people want to know exactly how you got it, they can pester you about it on their own time.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, your Lordship.¡± Radast said, hesitating as he visibly reorganized his thoughts. ¡°The enemy forces are being led by a Duergar noble of some kind named Nuros. What¡¯s not entirely clear is whether Nuros is the name of the dwarf, or that of the demon that¡¯s possessing him.¡±


    A low murmur passed through the small crowd at that, but Radast went on. ¡°This demon is likely a shade or other shadow demon of the fifth hell. Whatever the case, it¡¯s safe to say that this campaign is being led or influenced heavily by it.¡±


    The murmur grew louder, but Narald waved a hand and the room grew still again a moment later.


    ¡°Go on. What does this mean for us?¡±


    The warlock cleared his throat. ¡°From what I¡¯ve learned, I would expect this Nuros to be at least a class five, more likely a class six demon." He glanced over toward the merchants, and his expression grew a touch derisive. ¡°That¡¯s bad, for those who can¡¯t read between the lines. Waging a war like this is likely part of a deal it made with its host. It most likely wants to grow and evolve into a true greater demon. Demons of the fifth hell consume souls for their fear. It''s most nourishing if the souls both lived and died in terror. Based on the prisoner¡¯s words and my own expectation, Halfbridge, and perhaps the entire realm, considering recent Duergar sightings, should prepare for an extended campaign of terror to be waged against us.¡±


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    In the silence that followed, a loud scoff rang through the room.


    ¡°Then your intelligence is wrong!¡± General Arice said derisively. ¡°The dwarves have been maneuvering around out there for weeks, digging tunnels around toward the far side of the city. It¡¯s obvious that they¡¯re trying to set up sappers¡¯ tunnels. If we didn¡¯t have orders from the Crown to hold off, we would have already launched a preemptive strike by now.¡±


    Radast shrugged, completely unfazed. ¡°I¡¯m not here to tell you what their troops are doing right in front of your nose, general. I¡¯m sure you have scouts and scryers for that. I¡¯m simply telling you who¡¯s in control of this army and what the high-level objective most likely is.¡±


    The general rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, but Narald shut him up with a glare. Iriala admired his technique. It took years of practice and more than a little natural charisma to silence an argumentative courtier with nothing but a look.


    ¡°Arice, calm yourself. I just invited you here to keep you apprised. I have neither the need nor the authority to order you to reposition your troops. The Mages¡¯ Guild was ordered to send word to Teres, Yetin¡¯s Harbor and Loamfurth yesterday. They will conduct their own investigations and report back to us with anything they find that might corroborate or refute this information.¡±


    He swept his gaze around the room, making eye-contact with the assembled courtiers and guild representatives. ¡°In the meantime, I want all of you to make preparations. Stockpile resources, develop wartime emergency procedures, and simply reassure your people that they¡¯re being taken care of. If someone wants to rattle us, to stir up true terror in our city, then we need to meet them head on with preparedness, resolve, and a tangible commitment to protecting our citizens.¡±


    ¨C-------------


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand it.¡± Torvald said, restarting a conversation that made Bernt quietly sigh under his breath. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you want to see your soul saved, protected from the ravages of the hells?¡±


    ¡°I can use a soulstone for that.¡± Josie snapped. ¡°But I don¡¯t expect that would work out very well. Souls are fuel, at least the parts of them that make you yourself. If gods are hoarding them, it¡¯s not for anything good. The hells are part of the natural cycle of souls, and I¡¯m wary of anything that would casually mess with such a fundamental system.¡±


    ¡°The gods are not like demons.¡± Torvald rebuked her patiently. ¡°They¡¯re fundamentally different ¨C you can¡¯t just assign them motives based on your experiences with dark and nefarious creatures.¡±


    "Of course I can," Josie grunted as she heaved a bucket full of filthy debris up a ladder. ¡°I just did.¡±


    The two of them had been having minor variations of this discussion for days now. Josie had engaged more than a few times, discussing the theological basis of Beseri worship. Both of them seemed quite knowledgeable about each other¡¯s ideology to the point where Bernt couldn¡¯t follow the details himself. It didn¡¯t matter, though. The crux of the argument was that Torvald trusted that the gods were both unknowable and good, and Josie thought that both points were insane.


    Bernt, who¡¯d checked out of the conversation the second time around ¨C that was something like four days ago ¨C wanted nothing so much as to call it a day and go home.


    Remarkably, despite that irritating conversation, they¡¯d actually made good progress. Josie was diligent and thorough by nature and Torvald had an unquenchable enthusiasm for doing his duty and doing it ¡°right¡±, that was completely undiminished by his assignment to sewer duty. As a result, they were actually pretty close to finishing their assignment. In fact, Bernt seriously doubted that this part of the system had ever been so clean and clear of pests since it had been built.


    Torvald even stopped to grease the hinges on the grates, entirely on his own initiative. Bernt had finally drawn a line when he tried to buy the grease with his own money and showed the crazy acolyte how to fill out the reimbursement forms.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you leave her alone?¡± Bernt asked him tiredly while Josie went to unload her bucket into the cart.


    ¡°Because it¡¯s important to me,¡± he answered simply. ¡°Why would someone knowingly turn up their nose at a chance for salvation? It just seems so self-destructive.¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°You didn¡¯t ask me, and I don¡¯t serve any of the gods, either.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true, yes...¡± Torvald admitted. ¡°But I don¡¯t think you have an answer.¡±


    ¡°And Josie does?¡± Bernt scoffed and shook his head. ¡°She told you already ¨C she just doesn¡¯t trust them. It¡¯s not that profound.¡±


    ¡°Alright, what about you?¡± he asked, annoyance finally creeping into his voice.


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t want to mess with any gods, but that doesn¡¯t mean I want to dedicate my existence to becoming the extension of one¡¯s will. I¡¯m my own person.¡±


    What, after all, was the point of eternity if you couldn¡¯t make your own decisions? Wasn¡¯t that just a different kind of death?


    ¡°The gods don¡¯t take your will, or suborn it.¡± Torvald insisted. ¡°It¡¯s about aligning your purpose with one who resonates with you on your own.¡±


    Bernt rolled his eyes. How was that actually any different in practice? He was about to respond when the ground all around him vibrated.


    ¡°Earthquake! Up!¡± he shouted, almost before he¡¯d even registered what he was feeling. He dove for the ladder and scrambled up, Torvald a few steps behind him as he caught on.


    Bernt had experienced minor earthquakes before, but they only lasted a few seconds. By the time they found Josie in the increasingly chaotic streets, almost half a minute had gone by and it was still going. It wasn¡¯t a violent shaking so much as a steady, soft vibration accompanied by a loud, low rumble.


    A trumpet sounded from a nearby wall, followed by another in the distance. The rumbling stopped, but the chaos was only just beginning. City guard patrols coalesced into larger units and streamed toward the walls as civilians hastily tried to clear the streets. The guards moved more smoothly than they had during the kobold¡¯s assault, and more quickly, too. The Underkeepers weren¡¯t the only ones who¡¯d been training.


    ¡°Come on!¡± Josie called and ran down the street. There was a small wicket gate set into the city wall ahead of them, permanently sealed and bricked over. What was still there, though, was a narrow stairway that led up onto the wall. Without hesitating for a moment, the warlock sped up the steps.


    Bernt hesitated. Civilians weren¡¯t allowed on the city¡¯s fortifications, but technically they weren¡¯t civilians anymore. At the same time, they were outside of their jurisdiction, and Bernt had no idea what that meant. Still, he wanted to know what was going on, and Josie was a legal expert. Besides, the guards were going to be far too busy to worry about it.


    He followed, hurrying to catch up, with Torvald hot on his heels.


    Josie was waiting for them at the top, but she wasn¡¯t looking in their direction. Toward the west, the southwestern highway had been transformed. The broad roadway was supposed to disappear behind a hill about a mile to the west, where it led down into the rocky plains that eventually gave way to the more fertile riverlands that defined southern Besermark¡¯s geography. There it passed by Yetin¡¯s Harbor and led down toward the coast and Teres, the realm¡¯s capital city.


    Now, the highway ended abruptly in a plain and massive stone rampart. It was cruder work than someone like Janus or Kustov would do, but what it lacked in grace it made up for in sheer mass. The entire thing was probably a mile wide and Bernt could see tiny figures scrambling across it in the distance. The duergar had come to the surface, and they¡¯d cut off what should have been a wide swathe of passable terrain.


    They were being cut off. The Duergar were putting them under siege.

 2.17 Patrol

    The news spread through the city like wildfire as Bernt led the group back down toward the Undercity, leaving the mostly full cart parked at the side of the street for later. The incinerator was located outside the walls anyway, and it was safe to assume that the gates would be locked down for a while at least.


    Besides, this was an emergency.


    As they passed through the Lower District and into the Crafter¡¯s District, lines started to form at shops. More and more people hurried along the street carrying sacks of food, jugs of oil and dried meat. One, Bernt guessed it must be a carpenter, passed by hauling a bizarrely large box of nails and a suspicious expression on his face, as though he was afraid someone was going to try to steal it from him.


    The city had been through a lot over the past few months with two kobold incursions, including one that had spilled out into the streets and gotten more than a few civilians and guards killed. But those attacks had been sudden, and they¡¯d been over and dealt with in a matter of hours, at least as far as the public was concerned. While the Duergar weren¡¯t a secret, they were out of sight and mostly out of mind, just as the dragon before them had been. A problem for the military or the Adventurers¡¯ Guild to worry about, down in the Depths where no right-minded person would go anyhow.


    Now, though, the situation had changed. The enemy was moving out onto the surface, cutting the roads. Sure, the river was still open, but it wouldn¡¯t be enough. A city needed a lot of supplies, and Halfbridge depended on more than just river trade to keep its people fed and its industries running. There was another major road that led northward from the city toward Loamfurth, but Bernt doubted it would be in better condition than the southern highway.


    By the time they reached the Undercity Gate, uniformed soldiers were streaming in and out, heading between the castle and their own positions in the tunnels. Some were clearly messengers, but there were also a few short columns of fifty or so soldiers that streamed by, out into the city. Most likely, they were going to reinforce the guards on the walls.


    The Undercity, once they reached it, seemed calm by comparison. The market area wasn¡¯t overrun, though it was pretty lively for a place that had been practically uninhabited a week earlier, and people were still moving at a mostly-normal pace. Still, Bernt could see that there were more guards out than there should have been.


    Concentrating on his familiar bond, he realized through a few vague glimpses and impressions that Jori was still up on the surface in the city. She was cutting through small alleys, trying to get Gnugg and Trip somewhere safe ¨C probably the orphanage. He hoped she would keep a low profile. Sure, she¡¯d publicly averted a disaster in the city just last week, but he could imagine there would be a lot of people out in the streets soon looking for someone to blame for all this. Someone like Jori, or her little kobold for that matter, should be keeping their heads down, at least for the moment.


    ¡°Kind of quiet, down here.¡± Torvald remarked, looking around. ¡°Do you think they didn¡¯t get the news yet?¡±


    ¡°Not sure.¡± Bernt said, looking around and thinking through it as he talked. ¡°I think it¡¯s just not as densely populated here yet. Besides, people on the surface were buying up food and supplies, and I¡¯d bet the prices just went up. The Undercity isn¡¯t exactly a rich neighborhood. I mean, maybe the new Underworks, but I¡¯d bet most people who can are shopping up on the surface.¡±


    ¡°I guess¡­¡± Torvald said, looking around uncomfortably. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure why he was so bothered about it, but by then they were entering the training yard and the conversation died.


    Underkeepers who¡¯d been off-duty or out on non-guard related duties were gearing up and mustering under Ed¡¯s stern gaze to be sorted into patrol groups, each heading out of the doors as soon as they were assigned.


    Josie, who already had everything she needed, went right over to be assigned to a patrol while Bernt and Torvald hurried to the armory to get their equipment ¨C Bernt¡¯s staff and Torvald¡¯s sword and helmet.


    By the time they got back, Josie was already gone, assigned to one of the departing patrols. Of those who remained, most were regular spear-wielding guards, but there were also a handful of more specialized-looking fighters who were armed with swords, staves, knives or axes.


    ¡°Bernt, how¡¯s the hand?¡± Ed asked by way of greeting. ¡°Can you fight?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Bernt said, holding it up as if to illustrate. It wasn¡¯t completely fine, but he could cast a fireball without any pain. He wouldn''t run into any problems as long as he didn¡¯t overdo it. He would just have to pace himself.


    ¡°Alright, good. I¡¯ll put you and Torvald there on a patrol together to support Glim there.¡± He pointed toward a serious-looking dwarf who wore an axe on one hip, and a simple wooden baton on the other. He was another former city guard, one of just three, including Palina, that Ed had managed to bring into the Underkeepers.


    The dwarf nodded to them, eyeing Bernt critically as Ed continued. ¡°Do what he tells you and stay out of trouble. Don¡¯t throw any fire around unless you run into an enemy incursion. Do not go around burning our own people, no matter what they''re doing. We¡¯re going out there to reinforce a sense of order and to make sure we¡¯re around in case the duergar are planning to bust through our walls today. Surprises have a way of showing up all at once, and I don¡¯t want to get caught unaware.¡±


    ¨C----------


    Bernt''s patrol marched down a quiet, oddly empty street in the dwarven quarter of the Undercity. There had been a few tussles during the first few hours, and more than one person had come out complaining of looters breaking into homes and businesses. It wasn''t nearly as quiet in the Undercity as it had first seemed.


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    Twice in the past few hours, they¡¯d run into small bands of looters trying to break into shops, and had to fight. They held back, trying to avoid any killing, which meant Bernt was mostly useless as a direct combatant. He used his burning glue cantrip on two of them, but it hardly made a difference. While those two were very inconvenienced, the others didn¡¯t even notice. Fire just wasn¡¯t well suited to this kind of work, and Ed had told him not to start throwing any real fire magic around.


    Glim didn¡¯t see it that way though. The dwarf, who¡¯d waded into the fray using only his baton, pulled him aside afterward and told him in no uncertain terms to find a way to make himself useful.


    ¡°Did I draw my axe? No, I did not. There is a time and a place for killing, and chastising foolish unarmed looters is not it. But that doesn''t mean I went and sat on my hands. Your fire is the same as my axe. Use it appropriately, or use something else, but don¡¯t just stand around looking pretty in your fancy robe there.¡±


    Chagrined, Bernt considered the task more carefully. He needed to be more creative. This ¨C both the entire patrol and his presence in it as a mage ¨C was about sending a message. It was just communication, really. Did he actually need to burn anyone for that?


    No, he decided. He didn''t. When they ran into another group that was trying to kick down the door of what looked like a new smithy, he didn¡¯t fight. Instead, he backed up a few steps and cast a few torch spells over the group, funneling a little extra mana into each one so they''d be extra bright. It wasn¡¯t harmful, but it was flashy. The fight ended quickly after that.


    Even the taciturn Glim seemed satisfied that he was making himself properly useful.


    But the one member of their group who really shone, to everyone''s surprise, was Torvald. The young man ¨C he wasn¡¯t actually much younger than Bernt ¨C was a ferocious fighter. He responded quickly when a knot of men approached them with improvised weapons ¨C humans, who''d come down from the surface for some reason. One opened his mouth to talk, glaring balefully and brandishing a heavy stick, but the acolyte was faster. A quick dash, a punch, an elbow and a grappling throw left two men on the ground and the remainder scattered, backing away in surprise. Later, with the first group of looters, he slipped through the unruly group like a snake, yanking one off his feet toward the guards as he propelled himself into the looters¡¯ midst. It seemed like an insanely dangerous maneuver to Bernt, but their opponents were untrained and didn''t take advantage of the young man''s exposed position, becoming easy targets for the other guards.


    Hours later, things finally began to calm down. Nobody had died as far as Bernt knew. At least not as far as they¡¯d heard. This quarter was far better developed than the goblin quarter ¨C most of the occupied homes and shops already had brand new doors and windows and proper metal locks. Those who thought they could take advantage of any spreading chaos to enrich themselves were disappointed, for the most part. There simply wasn¡¯t that much chaos to speak of, not enough to give looters enough cover to break down doors and get away clean.


    They were approaching the end of their shift when something strange happened. A shout echoed faintly down the tunnel, followed by another and another. At Glim¡¯s signal, the patrol picked up speed and moved to investigate.


    As they approached the building, though, the dwarf whipped his head around from left to right across the street.


    ¡°Weapons out!¡± he barked, and pulled his axe from his belt. Those who weren¡¯t carrying spears complied, and Bernt pulled out his wand alongside the staff. More quietly, the dwarf continued. ¡°There¡¯s a lookout across the street ¨C they know we¡¯re here.¡±


    Bernt looked around. The patrol was standing in front of a reagent shop ¨C the kind of place alchemists and enchanters and probably warlocks went to get magical herbs, monster parts, and whatever else they needed for their work. The door stood open, but it didn¡¯t look like anyone had broken the lock. Through the gap, Bernt could see that someone had made a mess inside.


    It seemed quiet. There were a few gawkers peeking out of windows and pedestrians hurrying by, anxiously eyeing them and their drawn weapons.


    He didn¡¯t see anyone who he would have pegged as a lookout.


    ¡°Who¡¯s they?¡± Another guard, a goblin by the name of Hixle asked.


    ¡°Thieves¡¯ Guild.¡± Glim grunted, still scanning the street warily. ¡°There was a human street urchin sitting up against the wall there a second ago. Halfbridge doesn¡¯t get a lot of urchins ¨C we¡¯ve got an orphanage. And there¡¯s no reason they¡¯d be hanging around this street. No food here.¡±


    That sounded a little thin to Bernt. Not every homeless child went to the orphanage. Those who were old enough to get by on their own, and who didn¡¯t want to be there sometimes left or never went there in the first place. Bernt didn¡¯t really understand why they chafed at life in the orphanage so much, but it wasn¡¯t that rare.


    Of course, that was the moment when one of the anxious passersby looked up, frightened gaze locking on Bernt¡¯s. On seeing him, his expression relaxed for a moment and he winked before hurrying past. Nobody else noticed.


    Bernt blinked, unsure what he should do. That had been Oren.


    Bernt was dumbfounded for a second. Should he say something? Oren was a thief, and probably involved here. Why hide himself in the crowd otherwise, or wink at him?


    But Oren was a friend ¨C part of his adventuring party. It wasn¡¯t really a secret that thieves that worked as adventurers were probably also criminals. On the other hand, the law usually didn¡¯t pursue adventurers too closely. Shamelessly blatant illegal activity and any violent crime against people of any importance would be dealt with, of course, but Bernt was fairly sure that the guards themselves didn¡¯t have much to do with that.


    Adventurers were extraordinarily dangerous people, even at relatively low ranks. Someone like Oren, who had risen to rank 4, couldn¡¯t just be casually arrested ¨C it would take a lot of guards, or ones who were former adventurers themselves. Guards were well suited to managing regular citizens, and even the occasional monster or angry mob, but they weren¡¯t meant to fight people like Oren without taking losses. The city could fight one of the guilds, maybe, but not while also managing their other responsibilities.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m going inside with Torvald there.¡± Glim said obliviously. ¡°The rest of you stay outside. Bernt, I want you watching the pedestrians and the gawkers. If they clump up or start to make any threatening moves, assume that they¡¯re dangerous and call out for me.¡±


    Deciding not to start something they might not be able to finish, and still unsure whether he even wanted to start it at all, Bernt kept his mouth shut and followed directions. He could always report to Ed about it later.

 2.18 Hostilities

    By the time they returned, Bernt had made up his mind. He was going to tell Ed what he¡¯d seen. So, while the others left to catch a good night¡¯s sleep while they could, he stayed for a little while to seek out his boss. The archmage was probably the only one who could do anything with the information anyway.


    -----


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Ed grunted, leaning back in his chair. ¡°You¡¯re probably lucky you didn¡¯t catch anyone in the shop. You said you know this guy? What¡¯s his name?¡±


    ¡°Oren.¡± Bernt supplied. ¡°I didn¡¯t see him go in or out of the building, but he was there.¡±


    ¡°Eh. It¡¯s not enough for us to bring any formal charges. We don¡¯t want to mess with the Thieves¡¯ Guild directly if we can help it, anyway. Guild thieves are slippery, and most mages don¡¯t do well in that kind of fight ¨C the kind that you don¡¯t know you¡¯re in until the knife¡¯s already in you, I mean.¡± Ed grimaced with a faraway look in his eye. ¡°I¡¯ll mention it to the magistrate, and he¡¯ll pass it along to Ambrose. The branchmaster has contacts with everyone, and he can get the message through to the thieves. Or maybe he¡¯ll slap Oren on the wrist personally. I doubt anything will come of it, really, but it¡¯s good to let them know we saw them. Don¡¯t want them getting too bold.¡±


    Bernt swallowed. Was Oren going to be angry that he reported seeing him? Why did he show himself in the first place?


    It didn¡¯t matter. Bernt was an Underkeeper and this was his job. It didn¡¯t sound like the thief would be meaningfully punished regardless. There was no way Oren could expect to make him into an accomplice just because he¡¯d been in his party before. He couldn¡¯t imagine that someone like Syrah would casually let him get away with crimes. For all he knew, showing himself had been some kind of test. If he hadn¡¯t said anything, Oren might be coming to him to make evidence disappear next. Better to nip that kind of thing in the bud as soon as possible.


    ¡°So, I was right not to say anything?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No!¡± Ed snorted, somehow annoyed and amused at the same time. ¡°That was stupid. Dangerous, too. Glim was in charge ¨C he needs all the information you can give him to do his job. You have to trust that the people in charge of you are in that position for a reason." He scowled deeply for a moment, hesitating for a second, then added grudgingly. "Unless they''re idiots like Righmond who don''t belong there. But that''s an exception and not the situation here. In this case, Glim knows a lot more about this job than you do. He would have made the right call. You¡¯re lucky that it worked out despite you withholding important information. Don¡¯t do it again.¡±


    ¨C---------


    As Bernt returned to the goblin quarter, he was surprised to find it was much more active than he¡¯d expected. Groups of goblins were hauling supplies up and down the street while others leaned out of their windows to exchange gossip with neighbors and passersby. People seemed tense, but not suspicious like they had on his patrol route in the dwarven quarter earlier.


    Now that he thought about it, it was probably just the nature of the neighborhood. Goblins were a tight-knit group in Halfbridge, hundreds of people crowded into the margins of Halfbridge¡¯s society. If Nirlig was any indication, they probably mostly knew each other. Hell, he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if most of them were from the same clan.


    In the distance, he could see a patrol wandering down the street ¨C just two guards per patrol now that the initial shock had passed. The Underkeepers couldn¡¯t sustain a heavy presence out in the streets for long. They just didn¡¯t have enough people.


    At least it didn¡¯t look like they¡¯d need them here.


    Waving at them tiredly, Bernt began digging through his pockets to look for the keys to his brand new door. Jori was already inside, but she¡¯d gone in through an air vent that ran through the ceiling and opened up near the top of the tunnel.


    ¡°Hey there, human!¡± a voice called, and Bernt looked up and around. Two doors down, an older goblin woman leaned out of her window, waving to get his attention. ¡°What is going on up there? Rumor is that the dwarves are attacking, and my fool boy had to join his father in the guard. Of all the times! I haven¡¯t heard a thing in hours. Are they alright?¡±


    ¡°Uh. Are you Nirlig¡¯s mother?¡± Bernt asked, noticing the resemblance. He knew that Nirlig lived nearby, but he hadn¡¯t realized just how close, or that he lived with his parents. He supposed it made sense. It was hard enough for him to find a place to live.


    ¡°Yes, I am,¡± she confirmed. ¡°Should be obvious. It¡¯s not as though he takes after his father.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Bernt answered eloquently. ¡°Right. They¡¯re both fine, as far as I know. It wasn¡¯t as bad out there as we feared it might get. No idea what it¡¯s like on the surface, but I didn¡¯t hear anything about any attack. The duergar just came up to the surface to cut the main roads.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Well. I guess that explains a few things.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Bernt nodded and waved as he opened his door, which swung open easily and soundlessly on expensive wrought iron hinges. It even had a pleasant woody smell. As he entered, though, he smelled something else ¨C smoke, burnt hair and cooking meat.


    ¡°Bernt!¡± Jori called, grinning widely at him as she waved a stick with something stuck on one end. ¡°I made dinner!¡±


    There was a small fire built inside Bernt¡¯s latest attempt at a stove ¨C it was mostly just a stone box with a misshapen tube that connected to their air vent. He¡¯d almost accidentally sealed off the vent on his first try, but it was sort of functional, now. Jori had loaded a few scraps of wood into the box, lit it, and then put her catch on top of the box to cook. The rats looked burnt on one side, and Jori¡¯s attempt to skin them was pretty halfhearted, but she¡¯d cleaned them and Bernt was fairly sure that they were technically edible..


    Jori had never tried to cook before. It was nice ¨C the gesture, not the food. But that was fine, his grocery budget was looking awfully small, at least for a few more days.


    ¡°Thanks, Jori,¡± he said, accepting one of the rat-kabobs. They could work on cooking technique later. And salt. ¡°How did it go on the surface? I couldn''t really tell what you were doing, but I saw that you were with the kids.¡±


    ¡°Eh.¡± Jori shrugged. ¡°It was fine. I took them home. Ed told me that I had to keep the interns away from bad things because they were young. Farrin said the same, too. I think Trip might be older than me, though.¡± She tilted her head consideringly, but then shook it. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I promised that I would do what the Great Mage says. So, nothing happened.¡±


    That last statement came out just a little too forcefully to be the literal truth, but Bernt was too tired to go digging for more information. As long as nobody got hurt, it wasn¡¯t really his concern right now. Maybe he¡¯d ask Trip about it later.


    Picking a bit of singed fur off his food, he began telling Jori about his day. He¡¯d always talked to Jori, but until relatively recently, it had been the way that lots of people talk to their pets. Sure, she could always sort of understand him, but she¡¯d only gained real sapience ¨C and started talking back ¨C a bit over a month ago during their dungeon delve.


    Now, she was working on her own most days. At first, Ed had kept her on a relatively tight leash, ensuring that she wouldn¡¯t be seen in public without Bernt or someone else who could be identified as some kind of handler. Once people had grown more used to seeing her, though, that had changed. She¡¯d always spent time on her own, but she hadn¡¯t really had her own life until now.


    It was a good change, and one that seemed to suit her well. More importantly, though, Bernt was increasingly getting the sense that this change was something else as well ¨C unprecedented. Josie had been spending more and more time with her and engaging her in conversation. She probably wanted to observe her, and that made sense. Jori defied a lot of stereotypes about what a demon should be, or how they should behave, at least.


    Sure, she had only the vaguest sense of morals, and she seemed to specifically enjoy hurting those she considered ¡°bad¡±. But, she also had direct personal relationships with mortal people like himself, his adventuring party, Ed, and the other underkeepers ¨C not to mention her ¡°interns¡± who she seemed very attached to. She was carving out a place for herself in normal society, and that was something that Bernt was pretty sure no demon had ever done.


    It certainly wasn¡¯t something he¡¯d expected would happen when he¡¯d taken her home after finding her crouching in the sewer. Still, he was glad to be a part of it.


    ¨C-------


    Bernt grunted in pain as he banged his toe against a stone lump that he recognized as last night¡¯s attempt at making a cooking pot with his stone-shaping spell. It hadn¡¯t gone very well. Cursing to himself, he stumbled toward the door, from which emanated a rapid and insistent knocking sound.


    There was no way that it was already morning. He had a spell for that, and it hadn¡¯t gone off yet.


    About halfway there, the room suddenly came into clear focus as Jori opened her eyes and lent him her perspective through the bond, sort of pushing the image into his mind alongside her amusement at his blind scramble. That was new. While the information was a little confusing, since it gave him a third-person perspective on his own position, it did serve to remind him that seeing things was good, and running around in the dark was not smart.


    With a quick bit of concentration and an effort of will, Bernt conjured a light and opened the door to find Palina, fully armed and armored and raising her hand to pound on the door once more. Two doors over Bernt could see Lin rapping on Nirlig¡¯s door.


    Something was happening.


    ¡°Bernt, Jori!¡± she called. ¡°Get out here! The army intercepted six tunneling crews in the last hour and one of those earth mages detected another one trying to burrow into the Undercity Market from below as we went out. We¡¯re going on full alert again.¡±


    Jori poked her head out of the doorway above Bernt ¨C she¡¯d climbed up the wall. ¡°Are we doing patrols? I missed the last one! Bernt got to fight, but I missed the whole thing!¡±


    ¡°No, no.¡± Palina shook her head, already turning to head further down the street. ¡°Meet up at Headquarters. We¡¯re going to stand in reserve to intercept any incursions ¨C the mages will detect if anyone breaks into the wards and tell us where to go.¡±


    Bernt ducked back inside to grab his staff and pull on his heavy armored robe, then he hurried down the street to where Nirlig was already waiting. He felt a tug on his robe as Jori scrambled up to his shoulder, being careful not to sink her claws into him as she did. She was getting a bit too big to sit there comfortably, but she liked the familiar spot, and he wasn¡¯t going to make her move.


    He noted as she settled herself that her gray Underkeeper-style robe had been burnt and torn pretty badly ¨C an unavoidable side effect of putting a fire-proof demon into a flammable robe. He¡¯d have to come up with a solution soon, or maybe he could talk Ed into providing something for her.


    Or, maybe... Yes. He knew someone he could try. Just as soon as he got paid.


    ¡°So, do you think we¡¯re going to get to fight them today?¡± Nirlig asked as they started walking quickly toward the Undercity Market. He sounded more excited than concerned. Goblins weren¡¯t known for either their cautiousness or pacifism, and it showed.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Bernt yawned. ¡°but I have a feeling that we¡¯re not going to be sleeping very much.¡±

 2.19 Banefire

    ¡°Three, two, one, now!¡± Kustov barked and backed away from the fist-sized hole he¡¯d been making in what looked like a random spot in the tunnel connecting the Undercity to Halfbridge proper.


    Bernt stepped forward and activated a new spellform that he¡¯d been working on for the past two weeks ¨C ever since the duergar had begun sending tunneling crews. He¡¯d spent a lot of time trying to come up with a good name for it before he finally settled on Banefire. Josie had insisted that ¡°cold fireball¡± was simple, descriptive and sounded better, but how could he let a spell like this carry such a boring, mundane name? Nirlig, at least, had agreed with him. A goblin of impeccable taste, that one.


    Jori understandably hadn''t wanted anything to do with the spell or its naming.


    The liquid grey mass of roiling flames spun in front of his outstretched hand for a split second, then shot down the hole. There was a woosh, followed by agonized inhuman screams that echoed weirdly through the narrow pipe in the rock. This was a lot better than the diffuse flames that he¡¯d used the last time they tried this maneuver. It wouldn¡¯t kill all of the tunnelers ¨C only their demons, or maybe some of their warlocks if there were any in this group. Those who bound themselves too closely to their demons made themselves vulnerable, as he''d found out a few weeks earlier.


    ¡°Down!¡± Kustov yelled and Bernt ducked, but nothing happened. He rose and rolled his eyes at the dwarf. ¡°It¡¯s not normal fire. It doesn¡¯t burn hot, alright? I was going to be fine.¡±


    Stepping back, he shook out his hand to banish the achy tingle that was spreading up his lower arm. He¡¯d need to avoid casting for a little while or it would get worse. Jamming his fingers into his ears, he backed up further as Josie stepped up to the hole, leaned toward it and screamed. Then, without any further prompting, Kustov lightly dragged his hammer down along the wall next to her. A massive rumbling sound accompanied the motion and the ground shook slightly as the fresh tunnel collapsed on top of the dwarves, still paralyzed and unable to act.


    It was routine by now ¨C one developed during weeks of playing whack-a-mole with the few teams of incoming sappers that made it past Arice¡¯s defenses. There had been some proper fighting out there, but specific news were hard to come by, even here, relatively close to the front lines. Unable to keep everyone on alert all the time, Ed had put together a few specialized teams to stop duergar incursions while everyone else went mostly back to their regular duties.


    They¡¯d had to modify their approach a few times ¨C once by bringing in Josie to counter enemy geomancers who were good enough to resist Kustov¡¯s attempt to collapse their own tunnel onto them, and again just now, by using cold fire to kill or at least preoccupy the demons that they had started to send to counter Josie¡¯s abilities.


    Their team still included a small contingent of regular guards, just in case, but those stayed well back to protect themselves from the warlock¡¯s blood-curdling scream.


    Kustov held his hand to the wall for a moment, then nodded to himself and turned around to give the fighters a wave.


    ¡°All clear. We can head back.¡±


    The sigh of relief wasn¡¯t explicit, but Bernt could sense it as everyone relaxed just a bit. Someone murmured something and another voice laughed in reply.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good spell.¡± Kustov said, slapping Bernt on the shoulder. ¡°You really made it up yourself, in just a couple of weeks?¡±


    ¡°Sort of.¡± Bernt said, ¡°I found a scroll with the base spell for cold fire in the dungeon. It just took me this long to turn it into a proper fireball. If I¡¯d known how useful it could be, I would have started working on it a lot sooner.¡±


    ¡°Foresight is a mark of intelligence, but wisdom mostly comes in hindsight.¡± Kustov chuckled. ¡°Next time, you¡¯ll be quicker to recognize potential when it falls in your lap. Still, that¡¯s pretty fast even just to modify an existing spell. You should keep practicing it. My old mentor always said that the best way to grow is to lean into your strengths. Have you brought it to the guild yet? They might buy it from you if they don¡¯t have something better, already.¡±


    ¡°I showed them the base spell.¡± Bernt said. ¡°But I really should bring them this version, I think.¡± He¡¯d brought the scroll by the guild back when he was still trying to figure out what it did, but they hadn¡¯t seemed interested in it then. Now that he knew what it did¡­ well, Kustov had a point. The Mages¡¯ Guild hoarded all kinds of magical knowledge. Now that he¡¯d modified the cold fire into a proper weapon that they could use against the current threat... Well, he was sure Iriala would be able to use that for something. He might be able to afford his guild membership sooner than expected ¨C and that could mean finally getting his next investiture.


    Kustov reached up to pat him on the back and then moved up to chat with Glim, who immediately pulled out a flask of something to share. Bernt slowed down a bit to get some distance. Dwarves distilled alcohol, to be sure, but that couldn¡¯t be the only thing in their spirits. A drinking dwarf¡¯s breath alone could make your eyes water if you were too close. Ironically, they rarely seemed to get drunk, despite their best efforts ¨C dwarves were powerfully resistant to poisons of all kinds.


    ¡°Uh. Hey, did you do that on purpose?¡±


    Bernt flinched slightly, only then realizing that, by slowing down a step, he was now walking right next to Josie. The warlock stared down at his right arm with a frown.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    He raised his hand as if to look at it.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Your soul looks weird there,¡± she replied, pointing. ¡°The lines are sort of uneven, thicker and then thinner in parts, and not completely straight ¨C I mean like little tiny bends back and forth.¡±


    Bernt stared at her as if she¡¯d suddenly grown a second head. Then he looked back down at his hand. ¡°What? My soul? How do you¡­ what?¡±


    ¡°So¡­ not on purpose, then?¡± Josie said. "Hey, don''t look at me like that! I don¡¯t usually keep my third eye open when I don¡¯t need it ¨C it¡¯s distracting, but I was using it to watch for shades earlier when you were casting. Does that mean you messed up your advancement process?¡±


    Bernt stopped walking, stunned. ¡°Wait, wait. You can see my entire mana network? Everyone¡¯s?¡±


    Josie turned around and squinted at him in annoyance. ¡°I told you that I could. I think that was on my first day, even.¡±


    ¡°I knew that you could sense spirits, or souls or something¡± Bernt spluttered. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that meant you could look right into a mage¡¯s entire architecture! I mean, could you draw one from what you see?¡±


    ¡°It''s all the same thing, basically,¡± Josie said. ¡°And no, of course not. Not unless one held still for me for a few hours at least. Do you have any idea how messy a mage¡¯s spirit looks, even compared to some of the other magic users? Yours isn¡¯t too complicated, I guess, but you aren¡¯t very advanced yet.¡±


    ¡°Yea, I mean, I only have one investiture,¡± Bernt said, looking down at his arm again in concern.. ¡°And no, I didn¡¯t mess up the investment process. I got burned by that warlock a couple of weeks ago, up by the gate. I thought it was healing okay. I can cast almost normally again¡­¡±


    It had been getting better. He¡¯d told himself that it probably wasn¡¯t that big a deal. Now, though. What could he do if it just¡­ didn¡¯t? What if it got worse?


    Cold fear quivered in his belly. Josie was watching him with what looked like actual concern. He carefully schooled his expression.


    ¡°Thanks for telling me.¡± he said sincerely as he started moving again. ¡°I¡¯ll get it checked out. Come on, we need to get back ¨C wouldn¡¯t want to miss out on all that waiting around we have waiting for us back at headquarters.¡±


    ¨C------


    Bernt stepped into the Mages¡¯ Guild and pulled a scroll out of his sleeve as he shut the door behind him.


    He hadn¡¯t been up on the surface in nearly a week, when he¡¯d come up to seek out Grixit at the Gateside Market. All in all, the defense was going well, but fear was still spreading. The situation in the city was getting worse, as one might expect during a siege ¨C prices had surged on basic goods and a lot of supplies were running low. There weren¡¯t as many people in the street, and those that did kept their heads on a swivel, always on alert.


    It made the atmosphere inside the Mages¡¯ Guild all the more jarring. The place was completely calm, just as it had been the last time he was there. The same mage as last time was still copying papers at the front desk and handing them to his monkey familiar to file. Didn¡¯t he ever leave? Every now and then, a mage would pass by at a comfortable, leisurely pace going from one part of the building to another.


    Shaking his head to banish the thought, Bernt stepped up to the desk and put his scroll down on it. He¡¯d spent most of the afternoon creating it from memory ¨C most of his days on counter-tunneler duty really were spent just waiting around. Josie hadn¡¯t been able to tell him anything further about his arm, and none of the other mages on duty had ever heard of anything like what she described.


    So, Bernt had decided to try the Guild. If he could sell his Banefire spell here, he might be able to buy his membership. That would give him access to the library and, probably more importantly, the guild librarian. If they didn¡¯t pay enough to afford him membership, maybe he could get a meeting with Iriala ¨C she should at least know who he could talk to. He¡¯d wanted to ask Ed first, but the archmage wasn¡¯t at the office. But he could always ask him later if this didn¡¯t pan out.


    The short man snatched the scroll from the desk and unrolled it, eyes scanning the paper in seconds.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± he asked, voice clipped and hard. ¡°Spell scrolls aren¡¯t to be removed from the library!¡±


    Bernt scowled. ¡°It¡¯s not from the library. I developed a spell to kill demons and I want to sell it to the guild. Can you tell me what it¡¯s worth?¡±


    ¡°You developed it,¡± he repeated flatly. ¡°One of the archmage''s pet Underkeepers. To kill demons.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Bernt said, unable to keep his voice entirely neutral. ¡°It¡¯s a fire spell. Would you like me to demonstrate it here?¡±


    The other mage¡¯s eyes narrowed and he glanced to the side at the papers stacked all around. ¡°I would recommend that you watch your tone, young man. Also, that won¡¯t be necessary. Assessments are done by relevant specialists, not here at the front desk. I¡¯ll tag it for review and have it sent to Magister Pollock. You should have a reply within the week.¡±


    Bernt tried not to grind his teeth and moderated his tone. ¡°I was hoping to expedite the process, if possible, considering the current situation outside. Is Magister Pollock here? Maybe I could talk to him¡­¡±


    ¡°No.¡± The man said bluntly. ¡°There are proper procedures for this sort of thing. Those procedures exist exactly for times like these to ensure that the business of the guild continues to get done without the gaps in quality control and legal review that the chaos of a crisis might otherwise enable.¡±


    Bernt scowled at the man for a few seconds, trying to think of anything he might be able to say to the man to change his mind. He was about to turn and leave, defeated, when inspiration finally struck.


    ¡°Ah! I need to speak with Archmage Iriala.¡±


    The receptionist rolled his eyes and asked sarcastically. ¡°Do you have an appointment?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Bernt said, trying to keep the grin off of his face. ¡°I do.¡±

 2.20 Magister Pollock

    ¡°I hope you actually have something for me.¡± Iriala said as Bernt entered her office. ¡°My receptionist seems to think you¡¯re just trying to go over his head.¡±


    Bernt shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Uh. no. I mean, It''s not just that, I do have something for you.¡±


    The archmage raised an eyebrow at him mildly, but Bernt suddenly felt as though he were in danger and he rushed to continue.


    ¡°I was on defense duty with Josie today and I learned something that seemed¡­ relevant, at least. About the Solicitors, I mean... not all of them, but Josie in particular. She can see the mana networks of mages. In detail. She noticed some spiritual damage in my arm ¨C I thought it was mostly healed already, but it might be worse than I thought¡­ anyway, don¡¯t you think that might be the reason the Solicitors placed her in the Underkeepers?¡±


    Iriala¡¯s face grew thoughtful, but eventually she shook it. ¡°They probably just did it because she¡¯d be the most useful ¨C I expect that she can also find invisible creatures and sense demons. It''s not unheard of. Being able to see a mage¡¯s mana network wouldn¡¯t be very useful for a warlock, except maybe to see how many investitures they have. Was there anything else?¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Bernt said. He already knew that it wasn''t much ¨C Josie had said as much, but he¡¯d needed a reason to talk to Iriala, and this was new information ¨C to him at least. ¡°I also wanted to bring by this spell that I developed ¨C I call it Banefire. It counters hellfire to an extent, and it kills demons. Or, at least, they really don¡¯t like it.¡±


    Iriala sat up straight. ¡°Really? It sounds... relevant to our current situation, though I''m not sure about the name. It''s your spell, I guess.¡± She held out a hand. ¡°Give it here, I''ll get it looked at.¡±


    Bernt swallowed. ¡°Uh¡­ your receptionist has it. He said he would send it to Magister Pollock and he didn''t give it back when I asked. I was hoping to sell it to the guild and maybe use that to finance my guild membership.¡±


    Iriala snorted. "Let''s take a look before we start talking price." Light swirled in one lens of her glasses, flicking from one image to the next too quickly for Bernt to catch what she was looking at. She rose and strode toward the door. ¡°I guess I can spare a few minutes. Come along!¡±


    The archmage walked down the hall so quickly that Bernt had to jog to catch up. Instead of going to the entrance, though, she led him down another hall and up a flight of stairs to a door labeled ¡°Wizard¡¯s Society and Research Division¡±. Without knocking, she flung the door open and marched through into a corridor lined with doors, practically dragging Bernt in her wake.


    ¡°Pollock! Get in here!¡± She called as she pulled him into one of the rooms on the right. ¡°I need you to take a look at this.¡±


    The room was bigger than it looked on the outside, but still not large. It contained a writing desk, a small, mostly empty shelf where someone had forgotten a haphazard stack of loose papers, and a relatively large bit of clear floorspace, where a circle of runes had been carved directly into the stone.


    Bernt recognized it immediately and realized what they were about to do. Without prompting, he began casting, visualizing the spellform in the air in front of him. It was still a new spell to him, so it took him nearly fifteen seconds to get the job done. Once he did, he carefully stripped out the effects of his investiture ¨C he wasn¡¯t trying to sell that ¨C and released the spell into the circle.


    When he looked up, he found that they weren¡¯t alone anymore. Iriala and a stooped elderly man were standing just on the other side of the circle, both watching with interest as the gray fire unraveled into the spellform that defined it. The man was ancient, with just a few tufts of fine white hair poking outward from his otherwise bald head, compensated by a long bushy beard that completely hid his mouth.


    ¡°It¡¯s...¡± The old man adjusted a pair of spectacles and moved to the side to view it from another angle. ¡°Well, it¡¯s modeled on a standard fireball, clearly. But it¡¯s using a different basis for the fire itself ¨C very unusual and complex, too. Very fun! I¡¯ve never seen it before. What does it do?¡±


    ¡°He says it burns demons.¡± Iriala said and looked over at Bernt. ¡°The fire-demons, too, right?¡±


    Bernt nodded. ¡°Yes, it sort of cancels out hellfire, or it weakens it. I¡¯m not entirely sure, but I think it saved my arm from getting burnt off a few weeks ago.¡±


    ¡°I see, I see.¡± The old man, presumably Magister Pollock, said distractedly and pointed. ¡°And what made you decide to orient the ignition rune like that?¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°I didn¡¯t ¨C it was that way in the original cold fire scroll that I based this on. If I had to guess, though, it¡¯s because a normal fire spell burns mana for fuel and uses the heat that generates to burn things, just like regular fire does. The heat is what does the damage. Cold fire isn¡¯t hot, at least not very. The rune in this spell is oriented to ignite whatever that bit of the spellform is describing there instead of just mana.¡± Bernt pointed to the cluster of runes in question. ¡°This has some overlap with the spellform for hellfire, though I couldn¡¯t find any part that was an exact match. It¡¯s not the same, but I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s why the spells interact.¡±


    Magister Pollock peered at Bernt curiously. ¡°You tried to work it out on your own? And you have access to the spellform for hellfire?¡± He turned to Iriala and slapped her on the shoulder lightly, chiding her. ¡°He tried to work it out on his own! And he¡¯s not even very wrong! Why didn¡¯t you send him to me sooner?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not a guild member, Pollock.¡± Iriala said with exaggerated patience. ¡°What do you think it¡¯s worth? He was saying that he wanted to try to trade it for membership.¡± She looked at Bernt with a raised eyebrow. ¡°You were, weren¡¯t you?¡±


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°I was hoping that it was worth enough gold to buy my membership, yes.¡± He didn¡¯t want to just trade it directly¡­ not if it might be worth more than the price of membership.


    Pollock cackled, revealing a gap-toothed grin. ¡°Then I¡¯ll say fifty gold pieces, or a direct trade for membership plus access to the wizard¡¯s society. Simple enough.¡±


    Bernt frowned. Clearly, he shouldn¡¯t have said anything. Guild membership cost exactly fifty gold marks. Now the old man was trying to steer him.


    Then again, spell research was something he was very interested in. If Pollock was a wizard as well as a specialized pyromancer, then he would probably prove even more useful than the guild library. In fact¡­


    ¡°Uh. Do you know anything about hellfire? Or about fire that can damage the spirit in general? That fight I mentioned, where I avoided losing an arm? I have some lingering issues from that.¡±


    Magister Pollock squinted at him through his glasses. ¡°Really? Well¡­ I don¡¯t know for certain, but I think you¡¯re in the right place. We can take a look when you¡¯re a proper member and everything. I don¡¯t work with any old riffraff off the street, you know. I¡¯m a guild resource!¡±


    Bernt looked over at Iriala, who was watching the proceedings with a pleased expression. She nodded at him, urging him to accept.


    ¡°Oh just take the deal, boy. He¡¯s a little eccentric, but he¡¯ll get you a lot further than a bag of gold. Besides, it¡¯s access to the wizard¡¯s society, not a job. He can¡¯t make you work for him or even show up when you don¡¯t want to.¡± She emphasized the last bit, staring pointedly at the old man, who snorted at her.


    ¡°Silly girl. He¡¯ll be knocking down my door at all hours if he knows what¡¯s good for him!¡±


    ¨C------


    Bernt signed the short, one-page contract at the front desk and slid it over to the dour-looking receptionist. Without looking, the man duplicated the thick paper once and handed the copy to his monkey, who went to file it away. Bernt pocketed the original wordlessly and turned back to Magister Pollock, who watched the proceedings with the impatience of a child waiting for dinner.


    ¡°Wonderful. Welcome to the Mages¡¯ Guild, boy. Come along, now, I want to see what you¡¯ve done to your arm.¡± Without waiting for a response, the old man turned and started hiking back up the stairs at a geriatric pace. Bernt hesitated for a second, but then followed and lent his arm to the man.


    Somehow, Bernt felt that Pollock was too excited. About his spell, about him, about the damage to his arm. No one had shown this kind of interest in him before, and it made him suspicious.


    Then again, he¡¯d paid for it, hadn¡¯t he? He was sure that a lot of mages were about to learn his spell, and not just in Halfbridge. The scryers would disseminate it to every other Mages¡¯ Guild branch in the country. Cold fire was already proving to be very valuable against the duergar ¨C how much better would it be when every pyromancer in the guild, not to mention Arice¡¯s army had it?


    ¡°So, then.¡± Pollock said as they walked. ¡°Tell me exactly what happened. We¡¯ll take a closer look back at my office, but we¡¯re going to be walking a while. I¡¯m not as young as I used to be, you know?¡±


    Trying to remember exactly what he saw, Bernt related what had happened in the fight against the warlock at the Undercity Gates, from the initial burn to Syrah¡¯s healing.


    ¡°Hmmm. And that was everything?¡± Pollock asked, taking a breather on the landing.


    ¡°Well. In that fight, yes. But I¡¯m worried that there might be more to it. The same arm was exposed to an alchemical poison about two months ago and I also strained my mana network during the kobold invasion around that time ¨C though it was fine again before that.¡±


    The old man frowned, considering. ¡°We¡¯ll have to take a closer look at it. I doubt the strain did anything permanent in a single day of overuse. Mages who burn themselves out usually do so over months or years ¨C it¡¯s common with soldiers, people who cast a lot of spells under pressure. Better to take a risk than get killed, right? Alchemical poisons can be tricky, though. They¡¯re magical, so sometimes you can get unpredictable spell interactions if the residues aren¡¯t completely eliminated. Tell me about this poison. What happened there?¡±


    By the time Bernt finished relating his experience with the Alchemists¡¯ Guild, they¡¯d finally made it back to Pollock¡¯s office. The room was much larger than the small laboratory that they¡¯d been in earlier, with shelves of ancient-looking books, stacks of notes that covered nearly every available surface, and two large cabinets that stood behind a massive desk that was also nearly buried underneath stacks of loose papers.


    The old man bustled over to one of the cabinets and rummaged around in it for a few moments before withdrawing a broken piece of chalk. Then, taking a seat in his large chair, he moved a few of the smaller stacks of papers onto some of the larger stacks and began to draw directly onto the desk.


    Bernt watched curiously, realizing a few seconds later that he was creating a rune circle. It wasn¡¯t like any that he¡¯d seen before, though it didn¡¯t look complicated at all. Simpler, even, than the one used for investments or spell analyses that was carved into the floor of the other room.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Pollock said. ¡°Just hold your arm up over the circle there and run a little mana through it. A little lower. Yes, just like that.¡±


    As Bernt channeled mana, a small group of glowing blue lines appeared in the air right above his arm. They didn¡¯t form any definitive pattern, they just ran alongside each other at a slight curve, with one twisting slightly around two others. Over the next few seconds, though, the image grew clearer. The lines weren¡¯t quite straight, wobbling back and forth at very slight angles and they were oddly textured ¨C a little knobby and sort of rough-looking on the outside.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± the old man said, moving from side to side as if to get a better look. ¡°That¡¯s pretty unusual, yes. I¡¯ve never seen an odd texture like this.¡±


    Bernt swallowed. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s going to get in the way of my development? I was hoping to get my second investiture soon ¨C the archmage promised me access to your perpetual flame.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Pollock said, eyebrows going up in surprise. ¡°Pretty daring architecture, that one. Dangerous.¡± He looked back at the projection thoughtfully. ¡°I don¡¯t really know. If I were you, I would at least try to understand your condition better before proceeding. It shouldn¡¯t really take long, though. We can do a few more tests here, and we might be able to get an alchemist to take a look as well. They don¡¯t know anything useful about mana networks, mind you, but it might help you figure out whether any alchemical interactions are involved.¡±


    Bernt grimaced. ¡°I¡¯ve had some bad experiences with the alchemists. I don¡¯t know that I want to ask them for help.¡±


    The old man laughed. ¡°Alchemists are just people, boy. When you don¡¯t trust an organization, you turn to individuals." He waved dismissively. "I¡¯ll handle that part. Just be here tomorrow, same time.¡±

 2.21 Catching up with a Friend

    Bernt left the Mages¡¯ Guild with a spring in his step, taking a left toward the Gateside Market. He still had something to take care of before he headed home.


    Things were finally moving along ¨C with his new guild membership, he could finally get his next investiture, and with access to Magister Pollock and the library, he should be able to do something about his arm. Moreover, the ancient magister was a master pyromancer and a wizard. There was no telling what he might be able to learn from someone like that.


    As he stepped out into the sullen flow of traffic, though, reality came crashing back in. A small group of guards passed by at a run, already visibly sweating as they headed past him toward the western walls. He recognized one of them, a gate guard who had looked the other way for him once when he¡¯d needed somewhere safe to practice. Something was happening.


    Bernt hadn¡¯t carried his staff all the way up here, but he always carried his wand with him. He could help. Making a decision, he drew it and hurried after them.


    By the time he caught up, they were already nearly at the wall, and he could hear shouts followed by cracks and thumps of impact from the other side.


    ¡°Clear!¡± Came a familiar voice from above. It was Therion.


    ¡°Incredible! I didn¡¯t even have to draw my bow.¡± Another, older voice answered. ¡°They grow up so fast! Your mom always says it, but I think I know what she means now. Come on, we have to go out and collect their hands for the bounty! My boy¡¯s going to be rank 5 in no time!¡±


    Bernt heard a long-suffering sigh which turned into a mortified groan as Therion came around the bend of the stairs to find an entire group of guards plus Bernt standing in the way. A second later, Garius came down behind him.


    ¡°Ah, good evening, friends! It''s fine, you can head back. It was just a small party trying to get creative with the walls. My son here already took care of it.¡± Then his eyes found Bernt. ¡°Oh, Therion, it¡¯s your friend from the academy! Hi, Bernt!¡±


    Bernt nodded to him, trying to shake off the surprise of running into the man like this. Therion¡¯s father was one of the highest ranked adventurers in the city. ¡°I, uh¡­ I saw the guards running and just wanted to see if anyone needed a hand.¡±


    Therion turned to Garius. ¡°Dad, do you mind grabbing the hands for me? I think I¡¯d like to catch up with Bernt for a minute.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Garius said, clapping Therion on the shoulder. He gave Bernt a little wave and walked off. The guards left a moment later, leaving just one behind to go up onto the wall and make sure that everything really was clear. Therion watched his dad leave with an exasperated expression.


    ¡°So, I¡¯ve got another errand to run,¡± Bernt said, ¡°want to come along?¡±


    Therion shrugged, seeming to remember where he was. ¡°Sure, why not? I wanted to get your take on what¡¯s going on down in the new Undercity. There are rumors about sappers, demon infiltrators, the goblins forming an army, the Solicitors summoning a demon army against the dwarves, and, of course, everyone forming an alliance with the enemy to wipe out all the humans. Nobody knows anything concrete, though. The count doesn¡¯t allow adventurer parties to collect bounties on duergar down there because we¡¯re not supposed to operate in ¡°residential districts¡± or interfere with the military, which is mostly running around down in the former dungeon. And Underkeepers barely come up here anymore. I¡¯ve seen Jori more often than you since all this started. Do you know she comes up here just to chat with Elyn sometimes?¡±


    Bernt blinked. He had not known that. But that was fine ¨C why not? He chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s nothing that exciting, for the most part. The goblins seem really well organized, especially now that they have their own space to work with. And a lot have joined up with the Underkeepers ¨C not as exciting as forming an army, but it guess it''s not that different. We¡¯ve been running interference against whatever groups of diggers make it past the general¡¯s lines. They bring demons sometimes, but we haven¡¯t really found any infiltrators so far ¨C though I guess that doesn¡¯t mean they don¡¯t exist. I actually just sold a spell to the guild for a kind of fireball that burns demons.¡±


    Therion blinked and missed a step. ¡°What? Where did you find that?¡±


    "It was one of those scrolls that I found in the dungeon. Or, that gave me the idea, anyway." Bernt outlined what had happened to him since they¡¯d last spoken, just before he¡¯d fought against the warlock in the plaza. Therion had heard the first bit of the story from Syrah already, but most of it was news to the other mage.


    ¡°So, you basically saved the entire Paladins¡¯ Hall," he said. "Or Jori did, I guess, but that''s even better. And now you¡¯ve developed a crucial weapon against the demons.¡± Therion shook his head. ¡°I hope the guild is paying you a king¡¯s ransom for that.¡±


    Bernt sighed and shrugged. ¡°Eh, sort of. They didn''t pay in gold. I get guild membership, instead, and use of the perpetual flame for my next investiture as well as access to the Wizard¡¯s Society. Magister Pollock volunteered to mentor me and help me fix whatever¡¯s wrong with my arm while we¡¯re at it.¡±


    Therion squinted at him doubtfully, but then his expression grew thoughtful. ¡°Hmmm. Maybe. I mean, the Wizard¡¯s Society is supposed to have a lot of secrets ¨C theoretical knowledge that isn¡¯t considered reliable enough for the library. Who knows what it¡¯s worth? If you¡¯re crazy enough to use it, I mean.¡±


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    Bernt shrugged. ¡°I need to fix my arm. If they know anything about that, it¡¯ll be worth it.¡±


    Privately, he also hoped to maybe pick up a few more rare fire spells, or maybe he could learn more about spell development in general. If he managed to learn enough, maybe he really could begin to design his own investitures. As a wizard himself, Magister Pollock would surely support that kind of endeavor, right?


    ¡°Uh¡­ another thing.¡± Bernt said, changing the subject. ¡°I saw Oren skulking around a reagent shop that had just been burgled down in the Undercity during the first day of the siege. I think he was involved.¡± He sighed in frustration. ¡°When he saw me, he winked at me. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m supposed to do with that. Who goes around stealing from people at a time like that? And letting me see him. It¡¯s like he¡¯s trying to make me an accomplice. It¡¯s my job to stop him, and he does that.¡±


    ¡°You should have arrested the idiot.¡± Therion snorted and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m serious ¨C he thinks it¡¯s funny to push people¡¯s buttons. It¡¯s not like anything would really happen to him if you did, but it might keep him from doing it again. He¡¯s a rank 4 adventurer. He¡¯d pay a fine or something.¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡± Bernt said. ¡°I reported him to Ed. Apparently he¡¯s going to mention it to Branchmaster Ambrose. Maybe the message will get through. If he shows up the next time we get around to practicing, I¡¯m going to set his boots on fire, though.¡±


    Therion huffed out a laugh. ¡°I¡¯d like to see that.¡±


    They emerged into the Gateside Market a moment later, and Bernt made right for Grixit¡¯s stand on the far side.


    Therion, in the meantime, told Bernt about the situation on the surface. The Duergar hadn¡¯t launched any proper assaults above ground, but they did send smaller teams in a near-constant stream.


    ¡°It¡¯s like they¡¯re trying to test our defenses. Every group tries something slightly different. We¡¯ve had climbers, diggers, some kind of flying contraption, a lot of different attempts at burning or blasting through the wall, and even a mage that tried to cast a teleport spell for his group. We didn¡¯t have to fight them ¨C only half of them arrived on the other side.¡±


    ¡°So, what, they gave up?¡± Bernt asked.


    ¡°No, I mean only their lower halves appeared on our side. There¡¯s a reason they don¡¯t teach teleportation at the academy ¨C it¡¯s way too dangerous, even at short range. Their mage probably didn¡¯t funnel quite the right amount of mana into the spell and warped the field boundary.¡±


    Bernt grimaced. Definitely not worth it. Was it supposed to be a hit-and-run? Why attack with such small groups? It didn¡¯t really make sense.


    ¡°What I don¡¯t get is why they don¡¯t just try to burn down the city.¡± Therion continued. ¡°Our wards are good and we can stop almost everything, sure, but if they had mages working on our wards and a few demons or warlocks throwing hellfire into the city for days on end, something would get through and catch sooner or later.¡±


    Bernt grimaced at the thought, but then shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think they want to kill us,¡± he said. ¡°Not yet, anyway. Ed said they¡¯re trying to scare us first. They want proper terror in the city.¡±


    Therion snorted. ¡°Well, they¡¯re idiots, then. Teres probably already has a relief force on the way to break the siege. Actually, I¡¯m not sure why Arice hasn¡¯t already gone on the offensive to do it himself. Nothing we¡¯ve seen so far suggests that they actually could take us on in a straight fight.¡±


    Bernt nodded uncertainly. ¡°Maybe, sure. But I don¡¯t think they would lay siege to the city like this if they didn¡¯t think it could work. Better to assume that we just haven¡¯t seen what they¡¯ve got.¡±


    Besides, nothing so far suggested that the duergar were planning to engage in anything like a fair, head-to-head fight. Like Therion had said himself, they could probably burn half the city down at a comfortable distance if they tried hard enough.


    Bernt waved to Grixit, who had already seen him and turned to dig around in a sack behind his empty table.


    ¡°Bernt!¡± Grixit said, tone relaxed and friendly as ever. ¡°You got my message? Take a look at this, it turned out perfectly!¡±


    He placed a broad, braided leather belt on the table. The leather was a little darker now than it had been in its original form ¨C a filthy mountain lion''s hide wrapped around a dead beaver in the sewers. ¡°It was easier than I thought it would be, actually. I mostly work with natural spirits, you know, not animals. They¡¯re a lot smaller in a metaphysical sense, not as smart and less powerful, but they inherently understand a lot of concepts that a natural spirit can¡¯t really grasp."


    Therion looked from the belt to Grixit and back, confusion clearly evident on his face. Bernt ignored his friend and looked from the table back toward Grixit¡¯s sack. ¡°Uh¡­ what about the other thing?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Grixit said with a small wave. ¡°Jori already came by to pick it up early this morning. She paid me, too. I didn¡¯t realize your organization was paying her a wage. Very progressive of them!¡±


    Bernt chuckled. ¡°That was actually mostly Josie¡¯s work ¨C our solicitor. She helped her negotiate with Ed for a salary after the incident with the duergar warlocks. From what I heard, Ed didn¡¯t really argue, but the two of them still made a whole legal case for it.¡±


    Grixit laughed. ¡°Makes sense, nobody in their right mind argues law with warlocks or demons.¡±


    Bernt nodded, picking up the belt. ¡°So, how does it work?¡±


    ¡°You can draw on it to make you stronger and to see better in the dark.¡± Grixit said proudly. ¡°It doesn¡¯t even come with any serious side effects! The lion¡¯s spirit craves the sensations of being alive ¨C taste, smell, and sight. You might develop a craving for raw meat or something if you use it too much, but if we understood each other right, it¡¯ll keep working practically forever.¡± He leaned forward and lowered his voice. ¡°I¡¯d keep this quiet if I were you, though. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve really scratched the surface of what the Berserkers¡¯ Guild does with their own gear, but¡­ well, I think we¡¯re dipping our toes into their water with this. I wouldn''t brag about it too loudly if I were you.¡±


    Next to him, Therion made a strangled noise and took a step away from them, looking left and right over his shoulders. ¡°The Berserkers!? Are you insane?¡±


    ¡°A bit, maybe.¡± Bernt smiled, strapping the belt on over his robe. ¡°But not with this. It¡¯s not my fault if they lose their crafting materials in the sewers. And it¡¯s not Grixit¡¯s fault if they appropriated and refined traditional goblin shamanism for their guild. That doesn¡¯t give them the right to stop the goblin from minding his own business and doing what he¡¯s always done, right?¡±

 2.22 Expert Opinion

    As he turned off of the main tunnel thoroughfare and into the smaller one that made up his street, Bernt was struck by just how different the Undercity felt compared to the surface. There were goblin children here, playing in the street while their parents sat out in front of their doors and gossiped.


    Down the street a bit, a gray-haired goblin directed traffic away from a hole in the road, where two more had opened one of the septic tanks that made up the Undercity¡¯s more labor-intensive waste-management system. They weren¡¯t Underkeepers. No, a tank like that wouldn¡¯t really need to be serviced for a long time yet. But, they had permission from Ed ¨C not that anyone would have stopped them if they¡¯d just gone and done it without asking. Why turn down the help?


    The muck that they scraped out of the tank would go into buckets, which were loaded into a nearby hand cart that would then be hauled over to a brand new agricultural chamber back behind the goblin quarter ¨C the goblins had dug it out themselves. There, two goblin druids, both of whom Bernt knew were part of the Underkeepers, worked with nearly thirty goblin laborers to produce edible fungi, which they sold at the Undercity Market. They weren¡¯t very good, but that''s what spicy peppers were for. Nobody turned down a cheap food source during a siege.


    Opening the door, Bernt stepped inside to find that he had company. Nirlig sat on the broad stone ¡°couch¡± that Bernt had made a week before. It would have been passably comfortable if he¡¯d had proper cushions for it ¨C but he wasn''t planning to spend silver on that sort of thing anytime soon.


    Jori sat next to him, drinking out of a small cup she held with both hands. She was wearing a new robe ¨C more of a long, sleeveless tunic, really, in gray. It fit remarkably well, considering that Grixit hadn¡¯t taken any measurements. If he¡¯d done the job properly, it should be extremely fire resistant and quite a bit more durable than the robe he¡¯d bought her before. Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t get shredded quite so quickly.


    On a low table in front of the two of them stood four different-sized clay bottles.


    ¡°Nah,¡± Jori said, putting the cup down. ¡°This one is boring! Give me some more of the mushroom fire gin. That¡¯s the good stuff!¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Nirlig grimaced, ¡°Ugh. That stuff is terrible. The only one who drinks it is my aunt Striga. You just like it because it has fire in the name.¡±


    Jori scoffed. ¡°Aunt Striga has good taste! Gimme!¡±


    Bernt cleared his throat. Both of them turned to look and Nirlig gave him a friendly wave. ¡°Bernt! I heard your team took out a unit of diggers today! Torvald was super jealous. We just stood guard in front of a side tunnel all day. Literally nothing happened.¡±


    ¡°Uh. Yea, it wasn¡¯t really a fight. They never even broke through. Not really Torvald¡¯s kind of fight, if I¡¯m being honest. He probably wouldn¡¯t think it was fair or something.¡± Bernt hesitated, trying to organize his feelings into a coherent thought. ¡°Have you heard what they¡¯re doing up there on the surface? The duergar, I mean..¡±


    Nirlig shrugged. ¡°Uh, yes? They bottled us up and are keeping us pinned down. I heard they¡¯re doing it in Yetin¡¯s Harbor, too, but that¡¯s just a rumor, I think. No official news from anywhere.¡±


    ¡°Right ¨C not what I meant. I mean the way they¡¯re doing it.¡± Bernt clarified. ¡°They just cut off the roads and now they just sit there, sending these small groups at us. It doesn¡¯t make sense. None of the groups could do very much damage, even if they got in.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that strange.¡± Nirlig said with a mirthless smile. ¡°They¡¯re just sending adventurer parties.¡±


    Bernt stared at the goblin. ¡°You mean, like in a dungeon?¡±


    ¡°Sure. I mean, I don''t really know how they do things, but there''s no practical difference from their perspective, right? They¡¯ve put it under containment and now they¡¯ve got teams of people trying their luck to get in and take whatever they can. The only thing missing is a real front-line party. Humans always send in a strong party first to soften the place up. I guess they must not be very serious about killing us. That, or maybe their high-ranking adventurers aren''t dumb enough to take a job like this. There are a lot of scary people in this city.


    Bernt sat down slowly on a misshapen lump across from them ¨C his first attempt at a chair. What did that mean? What could that mean?


    ¡°Ahh.¡± Jori sighed contentedly, putting her cup down. ¡°That¡¯s the stuff. So, how did it go up there? Did you sell the spell?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yes,¡± Bernt nodded, looking down at his hand. ¡°I got guild membership for it, and they¡¯re going to help me figure out what to do about my arm.¡±


    Nirlig looked curiously at his arm, but he didn¡¯t ask about it. ¡°So, how does that work? Isn¡¯t it a conflict of interest to work for the Underkeepers and also be in the Mage¡¯s Guild?¡±


    ¡°Eh,¡± Bernt shook his head, taking a seat across from the other two. ¡°Not really. I mean, they both have their interests, but Ed and Iriala are friends, so it¡¯s not really an issue. It just means I could theoretically pursue other kinds of work now without getting into trouble with the guild. And I can get access to their institutional knowledge and resources, which is a lot more important right now. It¡¯s not a bad deal, really, just kind of expensive. Most mages join sooner or later ¨C except most war mages and people like Kustov, because he¡¯s a foreigner.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡± Nirlig grunted. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you do it sooner?¡±


    Bernt sighed tiredly. ¡°Because guild membership comes with strings. Guild members are required to respond to emergencies, follow all the guild procedures for various professions, protect guild secrets, and work directly with the government when called upon to ¡®secure dungeons and contain threats as described in the guild¡¯s charter¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± Nirlig chuckled, taking a sip of whatever he had in his own cup. ¡°That makes sense. We already have to do half of that as Underkeepers.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Bernt smiled. ¡°Might as well have the benefits to go with it.¡±


    --------


    After work the next day, Bernt made his way back up to the Mages¡¯ Guild. Ignoring the receptionist entirely, he simply walked right in and headed up toward Pollock¡¯s office. The man still busily copying papers behind the desk didn¡¯t even appear to notice him. Now that he thought about it, he probably could have just gone up to Iriala¡¯s office all along.


    Oh well.


    Letting himself in through the Wizards¡¯ Society¡¯s door, Bernt wandered down the hall, trying to remember exactly where Pollock¡¯s office was. Unlike what he would have expected from the local guild¡¯s research center, the place had an oddly abandoned feel to it. More than one door stood open, revealing that quite a few of the rooms and offices were empty and apparently not being used at all.


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    The doors of the occupied rooms were adorned with small plaques bearing the names and titles of those who worked there ¨C they were often long and pretentious sounding, but Bernt supposed that was just how things were done. Pollock¡¯s door, when he found it, had an even larger plaque than most ¨C he hadn¡¯t seen it the day before because the door had been open.


    Pollock


    Magister - Wizard of Pyromancy


    Director of Spell Development - Elementalism


    Hoping he wasn¡¯t late, Bernt knocked ¨C or tried to. He barely made it to the second knock before the old man¡¯s reedy voice answered.


    ¡°In!¡±


    Bernt stepped inside.


    Both the office and the man looked exactly as he¡¯d left them the day before, except this time someone else was sitting in a chair across from Pollock¡¯s desk. It was an old woman, very nearly as ancient as Pollock himself, but where his back was bent with age, hers seemed to have calcified in a straight line. She sat perfectly upright, sipping on a steaming cup with the air of someone who felt that her tea deserved her full and undivided attention. She did not look up when he entered.


    Pollock, on the other hand, shot him a long-toothed grin. ¡°And there he is right now!¡± he exclaimed with a flourish, apparently continuing a conversation they¡¯d been having.


    Placing the cup down on its saucer with deliberate care, the woman turned to look at him, examining him with ancient, watery eyes.


    ¡°Boy, meet Master Alchemist Yrtrude. She used to run the whole godsdamned guild branch here back in the day.¡±


    Unsure of what to do, Bernt nodded to her. ¡°Hello, pleasure to meet you.¡±


    Yrtrude sniffed, expressing her displeasure in a manner that only truly old people could really pull off.


    ¡°You brought me an Underkeeper,¡± she said. ¡°Really, Pollock. Why do you bother? And why are you bothering me?¡±


    ¡°Oh relax,¡± he scoffed. ¡°The Underkeepers have been getting rehabilitated ¨C here in Halfbridge, at least. Haven¡¯t you been paying attention? Besides, young Iriala told me that the boy joined them deliberately. Bit of a rebel, this one, but he did fine at the academy. I looked at his transcript. Didn¡¯t want to join the military and couldn¡¯t bear to indebt himself for a guild membership with an apprenticeship.¡±


    ¡°My dear Pollock,¡± she said, rolling her eyes. ¡°You just like him because he sounds like the same sort of fool you were sixty years ago.¡±


    The old man shrugged and smiled. Yrtrude drew her lips into a line, but then she sighed and turned to Bernt.


    ¡°Hand!¡± she said, holding out her own by way of demonstration. Her voice was still strong, unlike Pollock¡¯s, and brimmed with a natural sense of authority.


    Deciding not to say anything, Bernt stepped up to her and held out his right hand, which she gripped by the wrist with her thumb and forefinger, turning it this way and that.


    ¡°Hmm. Nothing physical. Describe the poison used, any treatments attempted, and any other spells and magical substances it¡¯s come in contact with since.¡±


    Bernt did, as best he could remember. When he finished, Yrtrude didn¡¯t say anything right away, staring at him with a strange expression.


    ¡°You mean to tell me,¡± she began, voice thick with disapproval, ¡°that you found a strange alchemical metal lying submerged in filth and you thought it would be fine to just pick it up? With your bare hands? Don¡¯t you even have gloves?¡±


    Bernt shrugged, doing his best not to shift uncomfortably under her gaze. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised what you can get used to when you work in a sewer. And no, gloves get in the way of casting. You don¡¯t always have time to get them off if something comes at you.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± she said distastefully and leaned back, keeping her back completely straight the whole time. ¡°Pollock, what could you possibly want with someone like this? He¡¯s a fool.¡±


    Bernt frowned and opened his mouth to defend himself. Then he shut it again, thinking better of it. He didn¡¯t actually know what he could say here that wouldn¡¯t make him sound stupid, and besides, there was no point in arguing with the woman.


    Fortunately, Pollock just laughed. ¡°Oh, relax, dear. I can teach proper experimental procedures, that¡¯s the easy part. He¡¯s an ideal candidate. The boy successfully modified a pretty complex spell, and actually made it more useful in the process. Better yet, he¡¯s willing to take risks. Else he wouldn¡¯t have kept using the damaged arm at all, never mind throwing around spells he didn¡¯t properly understand in the middle of a fight. You can¡¯t teach that kind of recklessness. You can teach restraint, though, and tempered properly it¡¯ll make him a damned fine wizard.¡±


    Yrtrude frowned. ¡°You were too, but you still managed to cripple yourself.¡±


    Pollock shrugged, apparently unbothered. ¡°Risk is inherent to all real innovation. You can¡¯t do animal testing on a new investiture like you can a new potion. Even my failure moved the entire field forward. Generations of mages and future wizards will benefit.¡±


    Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°Ehm. Weren¡¯t we talking about my hand?¡±


    He absolutely wanted to know more about Pollock¡¯s apparent plans for him, but it seemed to him like the old man was skipping ahead a bit too far. He wasn¡¯t going to amount to very much of anything if he couldn¡¯t improve his condition ¨C he¡¯d just keep stressing his mana network and probably make it worse.


    ¡°We were, yes.¡± Yrtrude nodded. ¡°The metal you touched is called Arefinium. It looks golden, but it¡¯s an alchemical alloy that draws mana out of an object ¨C it has many applications in alchemy. The reason your arm withered is likely because of tiny amounts of trace residue that remained stuck to your skin after you dropped it. Once those traces were saturated with mana, the withering effect stopped, otherwise it might have killed you.¡±


    Bernt grunted, absorbing that for a moment. He hadn¡¯t realized that just pulling all the mana out of his flesh could have such a horrific physical impact on it. It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine that part of his mana network would have been damaged, even after the lesser restoration potion that he¡¯d been given.


    ¡°And my mana network?¡± he asked, looking from her to Pollock.


    ¡°It was likely strained quite badly by this,¡± Yrtrude said. ¡°But nothing permanent, considering that you received the proper treatment almost immediately. I expect, however, that repeated casting strain combined with exposure to some form of hellfire could easily do all kinds of damage to your spirit. Prior strain on your system would not have done that any favors. Hellfire is, of course, a valuable alchemical reagent in its own right. Several martial-type guilds and the military incorporate derivatives of it in their various enhancement procedures, specifically because of its ability to affect the spirit.¡±


    Bernt blinked. He¡¯d known that hellfire could damage the spirit, and by examining the spellforms for simple fire as well as Jori¡¯s blood, he¡¯d learned that fire was inherently a transformative effect. He hadn¡¯t realized that the alchemists were not only aware of this, but actually using this particular effect of hellfire.


    ¡°Uh. Does this mean you can fix me? With one of these kinds of elixirs, I mean?¡±


    Yrtrude shook her head. ¡°No, no. Your spirit is modified into a mana network. That would modify the effect ¨C it would probably kill you. Never mind that any guild whose proprietary recipe I used would come after the both of us for it. Pollock here might believe in taking insane risks, but I don¡¯t.¡±


    The old man in question leaned forward impatiently. ¡°Alright then. What do you think he should do about it?¡±


    The alchemist shrugged. ¡°Wait, stop casting spells and hope for it to get better. Maybe try another restoration potion if he can afford it, but I doubt it would work. Those work better for healing recent trauma, not repairing these kinds of chronic problems. You can think of it like trying to remove a scar with a healing potion. It wouldn''t really do much.¡±


    Bernt did his best to hide his disappointment behind a neutral expression, but he didn¡¯t think he succeeded very well. He couldn¡¯t just not do magic for who knew how long. There was no way. It was part of his job and, more importantly, part of what and who he was.


    There had to be a better solution out there.

 2.23 Treatment Plan

    ¡°That seems like a needlessly restrictive solution.¡± Josie said, shaking her head. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just use your other hand to cast? Why haven¡¯t you been doing that this whole time?¡±


    They were sitting in the Underkeepers¡¯ break room over a cup of tea as Bernt caught her up on what had happened since she noticed his spiritual injury.


    Bernt sighed. ¡°The strain doesn¡¯t really come from channeling the mana out of my hand ¨C at least not the worst of it, unless I lose control of the mana flows. That¡¯s not how it works, I use my entire mana network to help manifest the spellform that I¡¯m visualizing. The arm is just the weakest link, so that¡¯s where I feel the strain. I mean, I guess it would be a little safer¡­ but it¡¯s not a solution.¡±


    Josie frowned, holding up her own hand. Over the course of a second or two, her fingertips darkened and long claws grew out, then they melted back and the normal hand reemerged. ¡°Doesn¡¯t work that way for me. I have sort of a loopy pattern, a bit of my midnight hag¡¯s spirit, inside my hand. It¡¯s not like your mana network though ¨C it¡¯s physically there, not just spiritual. If I sort of ¡®push¡¯ on it, the claws come out. It¡¯s simple. The third eye works basically the same way.¡±


    Bernt grunted. ¡°Well, mages don¡¯t. It¡¯s probably just because you¡¯re a warlock.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Josie replied, waving the topic away. ¡°This magister is supposed to be an expert on fire magic, right? Why don¡¯t you just bring him some hellfire and see if he can figure it out? I mean, there has to be some overlap with alchemy there. The alchemists have to use reactions with other magical materials to get whatever they¡¯re making, but you can just rewrite the spellform for it, can¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Just.¡± Bernt laughed without humor. ¡°We ¡®just¡¯ have to figure out how to tell the spellform for soul-burning hellfire to restore my mana network instead of burning it up some more.¡±


    Josie frowned at him. ¡°I don¡¯t see the problem. Think about it. You¡¯re reshaping your mana network every time you add an investiture, right? You¡¯re just adding an extra step here, straightening it out a bit right there and maybe clearing out some kind of metaphysical obstruction, ironing out those weird wrinkles there. Hellfire seems like exactly the right thing to use, or something kind of like it as long as you¡¯re not too heavy handed with it.¡±


    Bernt froze, staring at her as he considered it. If he had the right derivative, he might be able to wear away the malformed "scarring", in a sense, and then heal or reinforce those mana pathways. Josie was right, even though she probably didn¡¯t know why. The best way to do that would probably be during an investment procedure, when he had a spellform to serve as a sort of scaffold. It should also provide that reinforcing effect he needed to help the healing process along.


    ¡°Josie. I think you might be a genius,¡± Bernt said. ¡°That, or you¡¯re going to get me killed. I need to find Jori, and I need to get something from my house ¨C but I¡¯m going back up to see Pollock today. At least provided that we don¡¯t get an alarm in the next couple of minutes.¡±


    Josie didn¡¯t respond. She had raised her head and was curiously staring right past Bernt¡¯s arm over the edge of the table and down into his lap.


    Bernt swallowed and slowly moved his hands to block her view.


    Josie blinked and looked up. Then she leaned forward and hissed. ¡°You saved the skin from the beaver?! How did you get it made into a belt? Tell me everything!¡±


    Bernt grinned.


    ¨C------------


    When Bernt stepped into the Mages¡¯ Guild this time, Jori half a step behind, the receptionist did not ignore him. Instead, he drew a slim metal wand from his robe and pointed it right at the two of them. Bernt stopped.


    From the back room, the man''s monkey familiar screeched in agitation.


    ¡°No demons on the premises!¡± he snapped, scowling furiously. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡±


    Taken aback, Bernt held up both hands in a calming gesture. ¡°Hey! Easy. I just wanted to bring Jori by for Magister Pollock. We need her support for something.¡±


    Jori, who was standing mostly behind Bernt, leaned around him to glare at the man. "He is rude!" She was surprised and agitated, and it showed in the way she spoke ¨C simpler, a bit less fluently and with more hissing. ¡°A bad man, I think.¡±


    The mage ignored her, eyeing Bernt sternly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you do things in your sewers, but this is the Mages¡¯ Guild. You¡¯ll need to go and talk to Magister Pollock and request a Permit for Temporary Containment of an Extraplanar Entity on Guild Grounds. When that¡¯s done, he has to come down here and escort the creature personally.¡±


    Bernt groaned quietly. This couldn''t be happening. For a moment, he considered trying to push his way past the man, but he looked deadly serious. Grinding his teeth, Bernt took a deep breath and chose the only way forward.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I can get one of those forms here from you?¡±


    ¨C--------


    Nearly thirty minutes later, Bernt and Jori followed Pollock into his office, who immediately shuffled over to his chair and sank down into it with a small sigh of relief.


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    ¡°Ah. That¡¯s better,¡± he said, peering at Bernt. ¡°Now. You¡¯re telling me that you want to try to create a hellfire derivative that you can use to fix your mana network directly. And you think the best time to do that is during an investment process¡­¡± he paused, waiting for Bernt to nod. ¡°Alright. Why the timing, though? You could infuse hellfire into your network right now without doing a proper investiture, just by carefully running a bit of your spirit out of yourself in a loop and holding the flame over it while you circulate some mana.¡± He waved a hand at the air. ¡°I would advise against that, mind you. It¡¯s been done. But why do you think so?¡±


    ¡°Too dangerous,¡± Bernt said immediately. ¡°That might affect my entire mana network somehow, even if it shouldn¡¯t. If I do it during the investment process, I would be able to limit the impact to the new investiture. Even in the worst case, it wouldn¡¯t ruin what I¡¯ve already got and I would still be able to finish the augmentation, even if it ends up modified somehow.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Pollock said enthusiastically, ¡°that¡¯s exactly right! Being aware of and managing risk is a critical part of being a wizard.¡± He leaned forward, raising both eyebrows. ¡°Now, what else have you got? I certainly hope you didn¡¯t come here thinking you could just casually rearrange hellfire into some manner of spirit restoration spell.¡±


    "No, of course not. I''m not sure that''s even possible.¡° Bernt shook his head and pulled open his bag. Reaching inside, he drew out a thick stack of poorly organized notes along with an old, worn-looking journal.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t exactly about restoration, but I¡¯ve been trying to make sense of this journal for a couple of months now,¡± he began, as Pollock reached for the book and flipped it open. ¡°It¡¯s some long-dead wizard¡¯s theory for transmutation magic ¨C I found it in a pile of garbage down in the dungeon. I think we can use some of the principles he talks about in there to help. I don¡¯t understand everything because it¡¯s all in some old archaic dialect, but I¡¯ve made a lot of notes. I was hoping you could fill in a few gaps¡­¡±


    The old man flipped through the book with growing excitement, turning the book sideways as he got to one of the diagrams.


    ¡°Ha!¡± he cackled. ¡°Hahaha! Do you have any idea what you found!?¡± He wheezed, flipping through to another diagram and examining it. ¡°This person was an absolute madman ¨C and my favorite kind!¡±


    He looked up at Bernt, eyes now aglow with a feverish intensity. ¡°We¡¯re going to make history with this, boy. History!¡±


    ¨C------


    It took a few minutes for the old man to collect himself, and Bernt spent the time digging through his notes to find the relevant pages. Bored, Jori entertained herself by jumping up as high as she could into the air to see how far she could glide on her wings. She thumped against the far wall on the third try, knocking over a small stack of books on the way.


    Meanwhile, Pollock started reading the text, flipping pages at a rate that suggested he had absolutely no trouble with the odd language that it was written in.


    ¡°Not half pretentious, wasn¡¯t he?¡± he muttered. ¡°Probably an archwizard. He calls regular mages ¡®bottom-feeding cretins¡¯ here. And now a little underkeeper found his legacy in a pile of garbage. Good irony there, very nice.¡±


    Bernt made a noise of agreement, though he wasn¡¯t really listening. ¡°Here it is!" he said, holding up a page of notes. "So, the spells recorded in there use fire as a basis to transform objects, but it requires two concurrent spells to do it. One to disintegrate matter and another to reintegrate it into the desired form. But I don¡¯t really need to reintegrate anything here ¨C not if I don¡¯t completely destroy the channels, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡° Pollock said, taking the piece of paper from him and reading his notes. ¡°You want to modify the hellfire to mimic this kind of solvent effect and then use it to wear away the damaged channel. You prop up what''s left with the spellform for the investiture and then finish the investment process to restore the channels for you. You would probably lose the normal reinforcing effect, so the investiture might be a bit weaker at the end, but it could work...¡±


    Bernt watched as the old man pursed his lips, apparently thinking about the idea.


    ¡°You realize that, if you damage your spirit so much that the investiture doesn¡¯t take, you might cripple yourself, right?¡± the wizard asked. ¡°It would weaken your spells permanently. Though, I suppose you¡¯d still have solved the strain issue ¨C your mana network would just be smaller.¡±


    Bernt nodded.


    ¡°Hmmm, alright.¡± Pollock said, ¡°It¡¯s a worthy experiment. Someone has to take these risks, after all, so why not you? If it works, we might even be able to adapt it into a proper treatment for overstrained mana networks. You might well become one of the youngest wizards to make such a significant contribution to magical research, never mind the kingdom as a whole!¡±


    At Bernt¡¯s skeptical expression, the old man stood up straight and wagged his finger at him seriously. ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate the value of innovation. Healing that kind of damage could restore hundreds of veteran war mages to the Beseri military, even if it''s not perfect. It would change the balance of power in the entire region and probably make you stupendously rich in the process...¡±


    That. Well, that did sound pretty interesting. Before he could say anything, though, Pollock went on.


    ¡°...never mind what¡¯s in that journal of yours. You don¡¯t even know what he was really doing, do you?¡± He shook his head disbelievingly. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you about it after we solve this problem of yours. No sense in distracting you with the dreams of a mad genius now, is there? Come along!¡±


    He shuffled out of the room energetically, moving quickly for a man his age.


    He didn¡¯t go far. Across the hall was a much larger laboratory than the one Bernt had seen two days earlier. This one was, like Pollock¡¯s office, a mess. Tables and chairs were covered with heaps of books and notes, and there were a variety of items lying around that Bernt recognized as focuses, lab equipment, and a discarded cloak. The floor was inset with many rune circles, poured into the stone floor with metal. Only a few of them were the standard version for analyzing spells that Bernt was familiar with.


    ¡°Alright, young Jori. Cast a bit of fire over into that rune circle there, please,¡° the old man said, rummaging through the clutter on one of the tables, before coming up with a small pen knife. ¡°And when you¡¯re done with that, prick yourself in the skin with this, if you don¡¯t mind. I¡¯ll want to take a look at some of your blood, too.¡±


    With a wide grin, Jori threw a rather larger-than-necessary handful of hellfire into the rune circle, which obligingly unraveled into a large and complex spellform as it came under its influence. Then she jumped up into the air and glided over to the old man, coming to rest on top of the table that he was still standing next to. She accepted the knife and pricked herself in the palm, pointing up. As usual, a searingly bright flame erupted from the tiny cut, which closed almost instantly.


    What was less usual was that, instead of dissipating, the fire rolled itself into a ball and floated neatly into one of the other rune circles, where it also unraveled into its constituent spellform.


    ¡°Now then.¡± Magister Pollock said, adopting a lecturing tone. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go and take a look at those and tell me where you think we should start?¡±

 2.24 A Demon on Patrol Duty

    Bernt closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. On the page in front of him was a vastly simplified spellform that he¡¯d cobbled together from examining Jori¡¯s blood. The first thing Pollock had tasked him with was choosing the best base for his new hellfire-based derivative spell.


    At first, Bernt had assumed that the pure hellfire would work best ¨C it was a rawer form, less complicated. But, as it turned out, Jori¡¯s blood had a few important advantages. While it was essentially also hellfire, it had aspects of blood magic. It was designed to course through demonic veins, to nourish their bodies, and to heal them. None of that directly addressed his own problem, but it was conceptually a lot closer to what he needed.


    Now, he¡¯d stripped out all of the bits of the spellform that he didn¡¯t strictly need ¨C not least all the bits that made it a real, physical material. That left him with a non-functioning scaffold of a spell that he needed to reconfigure quite a bit just to make it able to activate at all. Theoretically, this would already be way less dangerous than proper hellfire, but it would be much too chaotic for his purposes and too difficult to contain. He needed a gentle, steady flame that eroded the spirit in a smooth and predictable manner, like hot tea poured over a lump of sugar. Just¡­ maybe a little slower than that.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Pollock¡¯s voice sounded from behind him. ¡°That¡¯s enough for today. You can come back tomorrow to mess around with it some more. I expect this will take a few days, weeks if you''re slow. I don¡¯t mind if you come in here in the evenings, just don¡¯t touch any of my things. And don¡¯t try to do any tests or cast that spellform until you¡¯ve shown it to me. You can do a lot worse than just burning your eyebrows off with something like this if you don¡¯t know exactly what you¡¯re looking at.¡±


    The old man looked over to where Jori was curled up on his discarded cloak, sound asleep.


    ¡°The spellforms can stay up, so you don¡¯t need to bring the little imp with you next time. Poor thing was bored out of her mind. We¡¯re lucky she didn¡¯t try to burn down my lab¡­¡± he looked around at the heaps of papers and books that presumably contained his life''s work. ¡°Not that she could, of course.¡±


    Bernt nodded, exhausted. It was getting very late, and the old man was a slave-driver. He was almost surprised to hear that he¡¯d be allowed to work on this alone here. After tonight, Bernt worried that the old man would be looking over his shoulder the entire time.


    Picking up Jori¡¯s sleeping form, he thanked the old pyromancer one more time and made his way out of the building, toward the Undercity and bed.


    ¨C-------


    Jori grudgingly waved her interns off and watched them scurry away, further into the building to meet Fiora. Since the duergar had started regularly attacking the walls, they hadn¡¯t been allowed to work up on the surface. Instead, the humans let them run around at headquarters, fetching things and doing boring chores indoors.


    One of the underkeepers from the surface brought them down every morning now, stopping by the orphanage on their way to work, but Gnugg still dutifully reported to Jori each shift, as he should!


    Farrin had tried to stop the children from working at all considering the larger situation, but Gnugg had insisted on doing his duty and she didn¡¯t really have the right to stop him. He was a proper kobold and a good minion!


    Still, she couldn¡¯t bring them. She was going on patrol today with Josie. Ed liked to place her with the warlock, saying it made people more comfortable to see her in the company of a solicitor every once in a while. It was a reminder to them that she wasn¡¯t just a random demon running loose in the streets.


    And it was a reminder to Jori, though he didn¡¯t say that part out loud.


    She made her way to the breakroom, where Josie was already waiting with Lin. The matronly goblin was showing her some kind of dried herb, which she apparently found very interesting considering the way she was looking at it. The imp waved to them.


    Jori didn¡¯t need a minder, and she didn¡¯t want one. The warlock had seemed very suspicious of her at first, but she¡¯d relaxed quite a bit since then. That was good, since they probably wouldn¡¯t get along very well otherwise. Jori thought it helped that the other underkeepers, but especially the goblins, didn¡¯t seem to have the same kind of inherent wariness of her that everyone else had. It was nice.


    As it was, though, Josie still spent a lot of time drilling her with questions about the hells whenever they were alone. Jori didn¡¯t like talking about the place. Bernt knew that ¨C he could feel it through their bond. And so he didn¡¯t ask. Josie didn¡¯t have those kinds of inhibitions, and Jori was pretty sure that she wouldn¡¯t let something like her discomfort deter her. The warlock was hungry for knowledge the same way that Jori thirsted for the water of life. Unfortunately, she didn¡¯t really have the kind of information the warlock was looking for. The life of a spawnling imp was brutal and usually short. It didn¡¯t include an education in how anything worked, beyond her basic instincts. Besides, she hadn¡¯t really been that smart at the time.


    ¡°Dhzori.¡± Lin said in her rough goblin accent ¨C a testament to the fact that she hadn¡¯t grown up anywhere near humans. ¡°Good morning! I see you have a nice new clothings!¡±


    Jori nodded proudly, patting her new sleeveless robes. ¡°Yes! Grixit did it, he made it fireproof! Mostly, anyway.¡± She¡¯d managed to singe it a little bit at one of the seams when she tested it. But still, it was a lot better than her old robes.


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    ¡°Grixit did, did he?¡± Lin scoffed with a wry smile. ¡°Old liar, is that man ¨C likes money too much. He brought that to me last week. I used sap from the old cinder trees, down in the south. You should put it on everything ¨C dark, burning spirit like you. Mix it with wood or mineral ether to thin it a little. You can do it without help.¡±


    Jori¡¯s ears pricked up with interest. She didn¡¯t really have any other clothes to treat, and she was sure that it wouldn¡¯t be cheap, but it would certainly be better than getting everything from Grixit. Josie was intrigued as well.


    ¡°What does that cost?¡± she asked, ¡°I¡¯ve never even heard of this, and we deal with hellfire all the time. I had no idea there were natural materials with any resistance to it.¡±


    Lin shrugged. ¡°Some silver marks for a little bottle. It isn¡¯t bad, the price. But there is not much to buy. Cinder trees have to be old to give good sap, and they are hard to find. Illurian humans take the wood to make boats.¡± She scowled, flicking her fingers in a dismissive gesture. ¡°Stupid humans.¡±


    Josie coughed and sipped her tea.


    ¨C--------


    ¡°Come on!¡± Josie called, taking a turn off of their patrol route to follow the force of underkeepers that were rushing down the path. It was the current interception team on duty, led by Dayle, and they were moving quickly.


    Jori didn¡¯t need to be told twice. Despite having been on interception duty herself more than once, she hadn¡¯t gotten to fight even once since that odd duergar patrol had snuck into the tunnels, and that was forever ago.


    Racing out ahead of the warlock, she rounded the bend to find Dayle organizing his people around a point in the tunnel wall. Ten guards, Nirlig among them, were organized in a loose half-circle around the mage, who stood directly against the wall. Inside the half-circle with him were two goblins. Lin, who was smearing some kind of reddish-brown sludge onto the floor in a smaller, concentric half-circle of odd-looking symbols, and a druid named Rindle.


    The druid was watching Dayle, who slammed the small shovel that he used as his focus down into the ground with a loud crack, causing deep fissures to radiate out from the point of impact. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, the druid reached into a small pouch that hung at his belt and tossed little grains down into the cracks ¨C seeds of some kind, probably.


    Josie caught up behind Jori, but she stopped when she saw what they were doing, probably coming to the same conclusion as Jori herself. Stepping in now would only slow them down. They could provide support when they broke through ¨C everything would go crazy then anyway.


    ¡°Alright, everybody, just like we done practiced.¡± Dayle drawled calmly. ¡°Don¡¯t none of you get cooked, now. You hear?¡± He looked all around. ¡°All right. Here we go.¡±


    Setting the tip of his trenching shovel against the stone wall, Dayle furrowed his brow for a few seconds, then he traced it over the stone in a pattern that only he could see. A hollow thump sounded against the wall, immediately followed by a muffled cracking noise.


    On their side, it looked like nothing had happened, but Dayle backed off, nodding to the druid. Go on, there¡¯s still movement in there.¡°


    Stepping back into the line with the others, the druid took a deep breath and chanted under his breath, repeating the same phrase over and over. Jori didn¡¯t know how druids worked, but all of their magic seemed to take much too long to be useful in a fight.


    Something green was just starting to wriggle out of the fissures when the stone wall cracked. Then there was a loud crunch and rocks blasted out toward the underkeepers, only to bounce off of a force shield that Dayle had raised in time to protect his team. Jori flinched as something else ran into it and the spell failed. The entire thing lit up in a half dome for a split second, then it was gone.


    A large duergar, not as big as Furin, but still too big for a normal dwarf, advanced on the group with a shout, swinging a heavy axe. Blood streamed from open cuts on his face, and Jori could see little bits of stone embedded in his skin. He didn¡¯t seem seriously injured, though.


    Nothing happened when he stepped over Lin¡¯s odd circle of symbols, but the little plants that were still working their way out of the cracks beneath his feet proved to be a bit more effective. Thorny vines curled up and were caught on the dwarf¡¯s boots, growing further in even as he tried to dislodge them. He tore some out, only to find himself ensnared in a fresh batch of slightly more mature plants with each step.


    It didn¡¯t look like a lethal attack, or even one that was very painful, but Jori could see that it was very distracting. Enraged, the dwarf looked down and kicked, trying to free his feet. At the same time, the closest underkeeper guards stabbed at him with their spears, making sure to stay back and out of the dwarf¡¯s range.


    It would have worked with an ordinary dwarf. This one, though, wasn¡¯t ¨C he¡¯d obviously been enhanced somehow. Some of the attacks landed, slipping through gaps in his armor, but they didn¡¯t penetrate. He bled a little, and was clearly in pain, but it would take hours to kill him like this.


    Dayle had almost finished casting another spell when sulfurous fire shot out of the breach in the wall. The mage ducked, and Jori wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d managed to cast his spell or not.


    She rushed forward, cursing herself for waiting, only to find that the situation was still under control after all. The flaming projectile bent in the air, circling like water down a drain to strike the odd circle of symbols that Lin had painted on the ground earlier. The runes lit up, and the entire sludgy mass vaporized into fine black ash.


    So. Not something that would work twice.


    Dayle threw his shovel into the hole overhand, cursing loudly as it went spinning in at unnatural speed to strike whatever had cast the fire out at them.


    More flames gushed from the hole, but this wasn¡¯t a directed attack. Hot air blasted down the tunnel, and most of the guards took a step back, turning their faces away from the heat instinctively. The overly durable duergar stumbled forward a step, nearly falling on his face as the thorny vines holding him suddenly shriveled away.


    Hissing in rage and pain, a demon scrambled out of the hole behind the dwarf, barely taller than a gnome, but still a bit larger than Jori herself and with one wing torn clean off his frame, fire still gushing from the wound.


    Now. Jori decided. Now they needed her help.


    As Josie let out a disturbing, soul-withering scream next to her, Jori launched herself at the enemy imp.

 2.25 An Unexpected Family Reunion

    Jori broke through the circle of incapacitated underkeepers and flung a handful of hellfire at the dwarf, who was still on the ground, emitting a sort of wheezing groan.


    The other mortals were all out of the fight for the moment as far as she could see, though she was sure that Josie herself would be right behind her. Without pausing to see what happened with the dwarf, she flung herself past the bulky duergar and at the imp, who had stopped for a second at Josie¡¯s scream, but like Jori herself didn¡¯t seem seriously affected otherwise. He turned his head this way and that, looking for the source.


    Jori barreled into him, claws first, and tore at his hide drawing gouts of blazing blood. She tried to ignore the imp''s screeching and power through the incandescent blood burning her hands and arms, but flinched away when it splashed onto her face, hissing with pain.


    Only then did she realize her mistake. She needed to buy time for the others to recover from Josie¡¯s scream and to deal with the duergar. But the air in the tunnel was getting hot. She couldn¡¯t afford to throw around a lot of hellfire, or for either herself or her opponent to get injured too much. It wouldn¡¯t take long before the mortals would start burning their lungs with every breath.


    She needed to stall.


    ¡°Stop, cousin!¡± she hissed, improvising. ¡°Why are you attacking us?¡±


    It didn¡¯t work. The imp ignored her, gathering fire in one hand and flung it toward one of the goblins. The guard had recovered enough to move and managed to roll away from the liquid flames, though a few droplets still spattered onto her armor. Suddenly much more lively, the goblin woman squeaked in surprise and slapped at the flames in panic.


    Thinking furiously, Jori tried something else. ¡°You¡¯re interfering with the Great One¡¯s plan!¡± she bluffed. ¡°He will devour you when you are returned home.¡±


    At that, the imp turned to her and squinted, backing up a step.


    ¡°What Great One?¡± he said, warily. His eyes widened suddenly. ¡°Wait. Dzhorianath?¡±


    Jori blinked. What? She stepped closer and examined the other demon¡¯s torn-up face and mottled coloring.


    Well. How about that?


    ¡°Gegrenoth!¡± she said, surprised. ¡°Where are the others? Are you all working with the duergar? What happened to everyone?¡±


    Behind her, Jori heard a gasp, followed by a pained moan. Josie had gone to work on the duergar by the sound of it. The other imp glanced behind Jori for a moment before narrowing his eyes and answering.


    ¡°We were bound by the fiend Tallash, who is bound by the whisperer Zijeregh, who is bound by the greater shade Nuros, favored servant of Varamemnon.¡± Gegrenoth said, with a nearly ritualistic cadence. ¡°Whom do you serve?¡±


    ¡°I have powerful patrons,¡± Jori said evasively. ¡°Their goals are secret, I don¡¯t know them. But I can help our pack. Get them out, maybe... It was Tallash, you said? I know some warlocks¡­¡±


    ¡°I am stronger than you, little one. I don¡¯t need your help.¡± The other imp scoffed at her. ¡°And our pack is shrinking. Soon it will be gone. The weak die together, and the strong grow alone, each their own way. You know that.¡±


    Jori did know that. But she didn¡¯t believe it. Not anymore.


    She bared her teeth at Gegrenoth, ready to spring at him again when his head disappeared with a blunt sound of impact, knocked clean off his shoulders. Fire fountained up in its place, reheating the air in the tunnel, which had just started to cool off to normal levels again.


    The body toppled over, and a few seconds later, the hellfire stopped gushing out of the body. Jori exhaled a breath in a sigh. Too bad. He would be restored in the flames of their home plane sometime tomorrow.


    What an ass.


    ¡°What''d you tell him?¡± Dayle asked, stepping up to nudge the demon¡¯s body with the toe of his boot. ¡°Pretty nice distraction, I reckon.¡±


    Jori nodded distractedly.


    ¡°Josie!¡± Dayle said, turning to the warlock somewhere behind Jori. ¡°Kustov told me what you could do, you know? But I didn¡¯t know it was like that. You could put half a company down on their asses without even trying! Did you ever consider enlisting? I know there ain''t a warlock corps or anything like that. But you know, maybe there really should be.¡±


    Jori looked back to find Josie shaking her head at the mage.


    ¡°Warlocks are officially banned from serving in any crown military force,¡± Josie said seriously. ¡°It¡¯s literally one of the oldest laws in the entire realm. Besides, I¡¯m a solicitor. The military can''t afford me.¡±


    Dayle put up his hands in mock surrender and moved off to join Lin, who was checking on the goblin that had been spattered with hellfire. Jori could see that one sleeve of the goblin¡¯s mail had partially melted. Depending on how well the gambeson underneath held up, she could imagine that she might have a day off with a healing potion ahead of her.


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    All things considered, it had gone surprisingly well. No one had died, and it didn¡¯t look like anyone was seriously injured, even if a few of the underkeepers here looked like they might need a break and something strong to drink after being exposed to Josie¡¯s psychic attack.


    The warlock moved closer and bent down to check on Jori. ¡°Are you alright? I saw you get hit right in the face. Doesn¡¯t it hurt?¡±


    Jori grunted. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    She was in a sour mood. Her pack, the few remaining imps of the massive swarm that she¡¯d been born with, were attached to the enemy. Sure, Gegrenoth was doing just fine, but the others¡­ they were just like she had been. Small, mostly helpless and not smart enough to understand that they were probably just being kept as food for their fiend master, Tallash.


    ¡°I heard what you said, you know.¡± Josie said. She crouched down next to her and studied her face curiously. ¡°You want to help them, right?¡±


    Jori didn¡¯t answer, she just glared at Gegrenoth¡¯s unmoving form.


    ¡°Why?¡± the warlock asked. ¡°Why help smaller demons?¡±


    The little imp scratched her head, considering the question. Then she looked up to meet the woman¡¯s inquisitive eyes. ¡°Someone should.¡±


    Concentrating on the enticing sense of something she could feel over by the dead duergar, she drew the spiritual residues from the body as she turned away.


    ¡°Someone should care. Come on. We have to get back on patrol.¡±


    ¨C----------


    Something felt different as Bernt stepped out onto the small plaza just outside the Undercity gate, heading to the Mages'' Guild after his shift. It was less oppressive. People were walking a bit more slowly than the day before, and a few small stands were open on the periphery, selling warm snacks and drinks to chilly passers-by in the crisp autumn air.


    And there was music. Bernt looked around, finally finding a young man tucked away in a corner with a three-stringed fiddle. He wasn¡¯t playing a specific song as far as he could tell. It was more like someone aimlessly practicing ¨C playing a bit of something, then switching to something entirely different on a whim. He was good though, very good.


    Bernt took a deep breath, feeling a weight that he hadn¡¯t realized he was carrying slide off of his chest. It felt nice. Great, even. Trying on a smile, he moved on, heading toward the Mages¡¯ Guild to work on his hellfire derivative.


    As he left the plaza and headed down the street, he wondered how serious the morale situation on the surface must be if the Count was paying the Bard¡¯s Guild to lift the spirits of the general populace. Was Elyn out there somewhere?


    Ahead, a small crowd had formed around a street preacher ¨C a young priest wearing white. He reminded Bernt of Torvald a little, at least until he heard him talk.


    ¡°¨Cdo not be led astray by promises of false defenders, guardians come from the hells themselves to save you... from what? Themselves? We must be vigilant against such deceptions. We must stand firm against the forces of evil and all those who traffic in their darkness.¡±


    A few people shouted in agreement, but others rolled their eyes and kept walking. Bernt did his best not to look too conspicuous as he skirted the group.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t see that guy get into a fire fight with some kind of flaming demon dwarf,¡± someone grumbled as he passed by.


    What was all this about?


    Bernt was back in the Lower District, just a few blocks from the Mages¡¯ Guild, actually, when he felt something watching him. Whipping his head around, Bernt scanned his surroundings. He checked the mouths of alleyways and the faces of the people passing by. An elderly dwarf who was walking right behind him cursed at him for stopping and glared as he stepped around him.


    He was being watched.


    It was almost like a physical thing, and he wasn¡¯t the only one who felt it. Everyone in this part of the street was rushing along, throwing glances this way and that. But there was nothing to see. Nobody and nothing was peering threateningly from a window or over a rooftop.


    Swallowing nervously, Bernt ducked his head and hurried along. Something had changed up here. That bard ¨C and probably others ¨C weren¡¯t just out here to lift the spirits of a population under siege. They were fighting something.


    Were these the silent watchers that the possessed duergar warlock had mentioned?


    Shivering, Bernt turned the corner and lengthened his stride, nearly breaking into a jog to get inside the walls of the massive guild structure.


    ¨C-------


    ¡°Sir, it¡¯s getting worse.¡± Josie said, handing her daily report to the head solicitor. ¡°I saw two shades on the way up today, and there are other things out there, messing with people in the streets. I¡¯m guessing watchers from the fifth hell and maybe a couple of questioners from the second.¡±


    Radast nodded. ¡°That fits with our other intelligence. I already advised the count to take countermeasures, and he has. We¡¯ll work on neutralizing at least some of them on our end. A few of the better exorcists from the Temple District are supposed to get involved as well, but Count Narald didn¡¯t sound sure that they would cooperate with one another. It¡¯s unclear how effective they¡¯ll be.¡±


    Josie grimaced. You could always trust the clergy to pick the most opportune moments to cripple themselves with pointless infighting. At least Torvald had seen the threat and done something, even if he was an obstinate moron.


    ¡°Our little demon was involved in the fighting today,¡± he said as he scanned the summary page of her report. ¡°Did you get the details?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°It¡¯s on the last page. I was there. We saved a few lives and Jori stopped another imp from most likely cooking half the guards and the mage.¡±


    Radast smiled with satisfaction. ¡°Good, good. That¡¯s perfect. I¡¯m going to get some ¡®eyewitnesses¡¯ out into the pubs with this. Maybe we can make a bit of a name for you, while we¡¯re at it.¡± He met her eyes and grinned ¨C a rare, genuine expression on a man who generally prided himself on his self control. ¡°Solicitor Josie, I believe you may end up breaking new ground for us. Keep this up and you¡¯ll be the first warlock celebrated as a hero in this city since before the fall of the Madurian Empire.¡±


    Josie inclined her head to her mentor. His praise meant a lot ¨C she knew that Radast wasn¡¯t the sort of person to offer it lightly. A lot of people thought of the man as little more than a sinister and arrogant charicature of a warlock ¨C he certainly played into it when it suited him. But he was more than that, too. A fiercely proud man with a worthy goal.


    It didn¡¯t hurt that with his help, she very well could become one of the most famous warlocks in Beseri history ¨C and perhaps the first one that wasn¡¯t framed as a villain.


    She smiled back and excused herself. She needed to be up early tomorrow ¨C she was scheduled to work on the interception team with Kustov and Bernt again an hour before dawn.

 2.26 A Bad Day

    Bernt activated his thornskin amulet as something large and furry bowled into him, pinning him to the ground under its bulk. They hadn¡¯t made it to the breach in time, and now the enemy was in the tunnels. Kustov shouted something, but Bernt didn¡¯t understand him. He was distracted by the massive creature digging its claws into his chest.


    It didn¡¯t hurt very much, thanks to his protective charm, but he couldn¡¯t move.


    He squirmed, only realizing a second later that this was the exact kind of situation that he had an enchanted belt for. With an effort of will and a little poke of unshaped mana, he activated the infused leather.


    For a moment, he thought that nothing had happened. Something big and smelly was still pinning him down, and his bones still creaked under the pressure. Frustrated, he flexed and pushed up against it as hard as he could. With an odd, low squeak of surprise, the huge creature rose into the air and rolled off to the side, landing awkwardly on its flank. It didn¡¯t feel any lighter as he lifted it, but when he pushed, it had moved.


    His assailant was a gigantic mole, or something like it, with huge digging claws and a creepy, star-shaped nose. Not a demon as far as Bernt could tell ¨C just a regular animal, if unnaturally large. Behind it, though, he could hear the familiar sibilant and guttural tones of the duergar language as someone cursed.


    A shadow fell over Bernt, and he saw a spear sink deep into the creature¡¯s side as it scrabbled at nothing, followed by two more a moment later. There was a booming noise, followed by shouts and several smaller sounds of impact up ahead.


    Still a bit dazed, he looked up to find Nirlig, who was working on the interception team today, offering him a hand up. He took it and got to his feet.


    ¡°Dibs on the hide!¡± the goblin called with a grin before squeezing past the still-twitching body to join the fight beyond.


    Bernt blinked, shook his head and looked around for his staff. It lay several paces back, where it had flown when he was hit. He picked it up and followed.


    By the time he reached the real fight, it was already over. Kustov had dropped the ceiling down on the party of duergar adventurers, killing several and injuring the rest long enough for the other underkeepers to take them out. They hadn¡¯t come away unscathed, though. One of the dwarves had been some kind of marksman with a specialized weapon that fired small metal bolts at an insane rate and with incredible force. Two underkeepers were dead, three were seriously injured and Kustov himself had a bolt in his guts that had punched straight through his armored robe and skewered him.


    The entire confrontation had taken less than ten seconds, but it was still one of the worst breaches they¡¯d had since the start of hostilities. And all because they¡¯d thought to bring a mole. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure how quickly the thing could dig, but it had to be extraordinarily fast if it could get around the army¡¯s lines and past their wards so quickly that they hadn¡¯t managed to reach the right spot in time to do something before they broke through.


    Josie, who hadn¡¯t managed to contribute anything more than Bernt to the fight, dug out one of her own standard-quality healing potions for Kustov. A minor potion would fix the damage, sure, but it would take at least a day, and it didn¡¯t completely eliminate the risk of infection with a gut wound.


    By the time they got back to headquarters, the stoneweaver was doing much better, though his mood had turned dour. They hadn¡¯t lost anyone since the first few days of the siege, and never under Kustov''s command. He went to give his report while the rest of the team settled down in the break room to lick their wounds. The place was mostly empty except for Torvald, who sat off to one side with Fiora. The older woman pointed at an open page in a book.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re taking this a bit too literally,¡± she explained as they began to pour into the room. ¡°Ruzinia doesn¡¯t require you to literally enjoy suffering or sacrificing yourself for others ¨C it¡¯s more about your general attitude or mindset. How do I put it?¡± She scratched at her graying hair and leaned back in her chair. ¡°I mean, her paladins are supposed to be the sort of people who are happy that they made it in time so that someone else didn¡¯t have to. It¡¯s not about the suffering, it¡¯s about saving people.¡±


    Bernt shook his head at the odd discussion. He hadn¡¯t realized that Fiora knew anything about theology. There was no reason that a mage couldn¡¯t be religious, he just hadn¡¯t really considered it.


    He looked around the room, trying to collect himself. It seemed wrong to just sit down and wait for the next incursion, but that was the assignment. He¡¯d barely known the two guards who died, but it felt wrong to just... go on with his day as usual. Was that really what they were supposed to do?


    Shaking his head to clear it, he headed over to the small kitchen to heat up some water. Somebody would be along soon to start distributing tea. It was something to do.


    He filled the stone teapot and turned to dig around for some of Lin¡¯s herbal tea mixture, only to find Josie holding it out next to him and leaning against the counter. She¡¯d followed him. They¡¯d grown a lot more comfortable with each other over the past month of working together, but he wouldn¡¯t go so far as to call her a friend.


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    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± he asked, accepting the tea and casting a quick cantrip to boil the water.


    ¡°Do you think they¡¯re testing us?¡± She shook her head, staring over. ¡°I mean, do you think they¡¯re just testing our defenses to see what¡¯ll work to get through in a real assault? They¡¯ve been at it for weeks already.¡±


    Bernt shrugged uncomfortably. ¡°Yeah. I mean. That party today almost made it, and all because they had a giant mole. If they had a hundred of those, I don¡¯t know how we¡¯d stop them. We don''t have enough people to stop ten simultaneous breaches, never mind what that would cause. It would be a disaster.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Josie nodded. ¡°But how will they know? I mean, if nobody ever survives to tell them what worked, how can they know which strategies are the best?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the point, isn¡¯t it?¡± Bernt replied, counting in his head to make sure the tea steeped the right amount of time. ¡°As long as we keep killing all of the ones who get through the lines, they¡¯ll have to keep trying.¡±


    ¡°You''re not thinking it through.¡± Josie said. ¡°Did Jori tell you about the party we helped Dayle intercept yesterday? With the other imp?¡±


    Bernt nodded. He¡¯d heard about it, though Jori had been light on the details. She didn¡¯t seem in much of a mood to talk last night.


    ¡°Well, that imp is going to be able to report what it saw when it reforms back in the hells, won¡¯t it? It¡¯ll be able to tell them that they got through, and about Jori, me and Dayle ¨C probably Lin and Rindle, too.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Bernt said slowly. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s not great. But that still only gives them useful information for parties that have demons in them, and only those that live long enough to see anything. We stop most of them before they even breach into the tunnels.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure about that,¡± she said quietly. ¡°It probably helps, but there are shades in this city, and other incorporeal demons. I¡¯ve seen a few on the surface, and I think it would be very optimistic to assume that they¡¯re not down here, too. They¡¯re almost certainly getting more information than anybody thinks.¡±


    "Did you tell Ed?" Bernt cursed as he realized the implications of what she''d just said. ¡°That¡¯s not something we can just ignore. If that¡¯s what they¡¯re doing, they actually might come tunneling in with a bunch of these mole things. Or some adaptation of everything they''ve tried so far, most likely. They know far more about us than we do about them.¡±


    Josie grimaced. ¡°That¡¯s what I was worried about. The solicitors are doing something about the demons, but I don¡¯t think they¡¯re cooperating with the city¡¯s defenders, and we¡¯re not prepared at all to handle a larger attack if they actually had a way to get past General Arice.¡±


    Bernt picked up the pot, and began pouring tea into cups. ¡°We¡¯ll take it to Ed at the end of our shift. I doubt he¡¯s going to take this lightly after what happened today.¡±


    ¨C-------


    ¡°How many have you seen, exactly?¡± Ed asked, sitting back in his chair. ¡°We know there are spies in the city ¨C Radast has been warning about them for some time, as well as the problem with the demons. So far, there haven¡¯t been any indications that they¡¯ve been able to learn very much about what happened to their incursion parties, though. It¡¯s one of the reasons we¡¯re so careful to wipe them out before they get into the tunnels.¡±


    ¡°Three in the past few days,¡± Josie said, shrugging. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean very much. Jori told me she¡¯s been sensing things out there as well. Incorporeal demons are sneaky. If they see me coming, they can just step through a wall or something ¨C my senses don¡¯t go through obstructions. For all I know, they drop down into the street. I imagine down here they could probably just conceal themselves in the tunnel walls. We¡¯d never see them.¡±


    Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°I think it could be a problem. The general is making a mistake, only fighting defensively, right? If he thinks the enemy isn¡¯t getting very much intelligence, he might just be hoping that they run out of low-ranked adventurers dumb enough to try these probing attacks.¡±


    ¡°Nah, that¡¯s not it,¡± Ed said. ¡°The general¡¯s been wanting to go on the offensive since all this started. My guess is that he got orders from the king, and he¡¯s been too worried about his reputation at court to take the initiative.¡±


    Bernt scowled. "That¡¯s crazy! Doesn¡¯t he know he¡¯s risking an entire city full of people?¡±


    Ed rolled his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t be dramatic. Attacking means risking an entire army of soldiers as well. And if he lost, the city would fall right afterward. Being a general isn¡¯t a simple job. He has to weigh the risks to everyone involved. The smart play in most sieges is just to hold out until help arrives.¡±


    ¡°And is help coming?¡± Josie asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard anything. The rumors say that Yetin¡¯s Harbor is being attacked as well, and nobody mentioned any relief forces anywhere.¡±


    Ed grimaced. ¡°No. There have been raids on all four major Beseri cities from below, though we¡¯re the only ones that have duergar knocking on our front gates, too. Teres also lost contact with the garrison at Rimehorn Pass last week, which leaves the kingdom¡¯s northeastern border exposed to invasion by the orcs. We¡¯re not at war with them, but they¡¯re not exactly famous for ignoring opportunities like that. Worse, none of the diviners saw anything leading up to the attacks, which sounds like they''ve been actively interfering with their work for quite a while now. They could just be trying to draw forces away from us here, or maybe they''re working with the orcs. Or, of course, the orcs just happened to independently think this year would be a fun time to test our borders. That would make it an entirely separate disaster ¨C there¡¯s just no way to tell. Whatever the case, nobody is coming to save us any time soon.¡±


    Bernt blinked, stunned at just how bad the situation really was. Josie just nodded, as if she¡¯d expected nothing less.


    ¡°I expect you to keep this quiet.¡± Ed added, eyeing them sternly. ¡°We don¡¯t need this getting out to the public. Beseri armies have faced and beaten more dangerous and more confounding opponents than this. I¡¯ll take my concerns to Count Narald and see if we can¡¯t get the general to adopt a more aggressive posture.¡±


    Scowling to himself pensively, he began stuffing his pipe. He heaved himself up and paced for a moment as he lit it and, as the room began to grow hazy, he turned back to them.


    ¡°Check to see if Kustov is still here before you go. I¡¯ve got a project for him to manage, and maybe Janus from the adventurers, if we can get a hold of him. A specialized abjurer would go a long way.¡±

 2.27 A New Flame

    Pollock peered at the spellform over the top of his glasses, shuffling around the rune circle slowly as he examined it.


    ¡°Well. I don¡¯t know that it¡¯ll work quite yet. But it won¡¯t blow up in your face. That¡¯s a fairly good start. I think you have a talent for this sort of thing, one that you should cultivate, given the opportunity. Why don¡¯t you give it a try?¡±


    Bernt frowned. ¡°I haven¡¯t memorized it. I can¡¯t just cast it.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Pollock asked in a tone of surprise. ¡°You¡¯ve been staring at it for days. You built the spellform for it yourself!¡±


    Bernt shook his head. What the man was asking was unheard of. Insane, even. Nobody just tried out a spell they weren¡¯t sure about, and especially not something as dangerous as this.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so,¡± he refused again. ¡°If I try to cast it without making sure that I¡¯ve memorized it right, it really could blow up in my face.¡±


    ¡°Hmph.¡± Pollock grumped. ¡°You won¡¯t learn your limits if you don¡¯t push them, boy. You seem to have a bit of an intuitive understanding already ¨C learning to cast a spell like this shouldn¡¯t really be that hard for you.¡±


    With a flick of his wrist, the magister summoned fire over his open palm. Or, something that looked almost like fire ¨C this was something a bit different. The flame was a perfectly shaped teardrop of sullen orange light and it hung in the air without even the slightest flicker.


    ¡°Ahh.¡± he sighed. ¡°Very nice.¡± He extinguished the flame with a thought and dropped the hand. ¡°Dangerous to cast, though, and still not perfect. You should try to weaken the spell a bit, and do whatever you can to improve the stability of the flame even more.¡±


    Bernt gaped at the old man. Unless he¡¯d been coming in here to study Bernt¡¯s work while he was gone, Pollock had just memorized his entire spellform in minutes.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Bernt said numbly, still trying to process what he¡¯d just seen. He was impatient to be done, but he knew he wouldn¡¯t get a second chance if it didn¡¯t work properly. He needed to get this right.


    As the master pyromancer turned to leave, Bernt called after him. ¡°Magister, can you get me access to the perpetual flame as well, for my investiture? That way we could do it right away, when I finish, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Pollock laughed. ¡°But what happened to taking the time to learn the spell?¡±


    ***


    Jori inhaled sharply, covertly drawing in the soul residues out of the duergar corpses as she sat on the rim of the cart. Body removal had become one of the many jobs that Underkeepers handled in the new Undercity, which was fair considering the number of corpses they¡¯d been making lately.


    Initially, Kustov had simply entombed the dead in the stone wherever they died, but someone decided that a centralized disposal site would be safer, more sanitary and generally more civilized. Probably Fiora.


    Jori liked Fiora. The woman was smart, practical, and she¡¯d supplied her with all of these wonderful snacks!


    These little tiny bits of souls didn¡¯t really do much for her at this stage¨C it was more like scraping a bit of sauce out of an empty bowl than having a proper meal ¨C but it was still tasty and a lot better than nothing.


    It was almost the perfect job. Of course, she wasn¡¯t strictly assigned to it. She¡¯d volunteered both herself and her interns for the duty, but Palina wouldn¡¯t hear of it, even though Gnugg had experience! But she still managed to help out most days ¨C just as long as she managed to get put on a patrol. Then she could just take her lunch break near the disposal site, usually in time to sneak in or intercept the disposal crew directly as they came in.


    It was a large chamber located down a hidden ramp off of the Undercity Market. Every time new bodies were deposited, one of the mages would enclose them in stone, keeping the entire thing relatively clean. Today, though, she¡¯d caught the cart as it rolled past the market square.


    ¡°Jori!¡± Nirlig called, ¡°Come on, I got your favorite!¡±


    Jumping off the cart, Jori scampered back toward the market, where Nirlig held out a small bag that smelled earthy and spicy ¨C spiced mushroom wraps.


    She snatched it, grinning up at him. ¡°Thanks!¡±


    They weren¡¯t Cal¡¯s spiced cabbage rolls, but they were pretty good. Digging around in her pockets, she dug out six small copper coins and held them out to the goblin. ¡°Here¡¯s your money.¡±


    Nirlig blinked in surprise. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, it¡¯s just a bit of copper.¡±


    ¡°Take it.¡± Jori insisted. ¡°Your mom says that you spend too much money on other people! ¡®How will he ever meet a nice girl and support a family if he spends all his money on random strangers?¡¯ she said. "It¡¯s for your own good!¡±


    Nirlig groaned.


    ¡°Please, Jori, not you, too. When did you meet my mother?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to find out where your aunt Striga gets her fire gin,¡± Jori explained. ¡°So I went and knocked on your door and met your mom. She¡¯s very nice. Anyway, I asked her, and she took me over to your aunt¡¯s house and introduced me. You didn¡¯t tell me Striga makes it herself! I¡¯m paying her to make me some more. What? What¡¯s the matter?¡±


    The goblin had his head in his hands now. ¡°Oh no, that explains everything!¡±


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    ¡°What?¡± Jori asked again.


    ¡°Hellfire Gin! Aunt Striga renamed it, and she sent my cousin out to try to find a pound of juniper berries at the market two days ago. She went on about opening a stand at the Undercity Market with the stuff. She¡¯s trying to profit from your notoriety.¡±


    Jori frowned as she dug into the bag. Striga had renamed the gin for her? She perked up. ¡°I¡¯m famous?¡±


    Nirlig snorted. ¡°Are you kidding? There are stories and rumors running wild about you all over the city ¨C well, the pubs, mostly. It started after you fought that duergar warlock up on the surface for everyone to see. I think you made an impression. The rumors aren¡¯t very accurate, though. A lot of them think you¡¯re bigger than a human and that you breathe fire out of your mouth like a dragon.¡±


    That¡­ that sounded amazing. Could she learn to breathe fire out of her mouth? It was a little sad that she couldn¡¯t really live up the hype. But this was good, right? It meant people liked her!


    ¡°I¡¯m famous!¡± Jori cheered past a bite of her mushroom wrap.


    ***


    Bernt listened with some trepidation as Jori bragged about her newfound fame to the other underkeepers. Their shift was over, but they were still sitting in the break room, catching up with the others. Bernt wanted to go. He needed to get up to the Mages¡¯ Guild to try to finish his spellform, he''d been so close last night, but this seemed too important to ignore.


    ¡°Sure, yeah. I heard about that,¡± laughed Dayle. ¡°There was a fellow deep in his cups at the Horse¡¯s Head, he was ready to swear you were a succubus trying to save the city from a rival demon so you could steal the uh¡­ hearts of its men or some such nonsense.¡±


    Jori had started asking the others about all the rumors. She thought they were delightful, though more than a few of them were wildly inaccurate. A few seemed to confuse her for Josie, and some implied that she either worked for the solicitors or had defected from the duergar. Just two made mention of someone that might have been him.


    It reminded Bernt of the street preacher he¡¯d heard the other day. The man had almost certainly been railing against Jori, and by extension the Underkeepers and probably the Solicitors as well. Of course, he¡¯d known for some time that Radast was planning to use Jori in some way to try to rehabilitate the image of warlocks, or maybe just the Solicitors in the city. This was the first real evidence he¡¯d heard of Jori¡¯s growing reputation, though.


    All in all, he would have hoped that someone like Radast would be able to craft a better narrative, or at least one that was more consistent.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you need to worry your head about it.¡± Dayle went on, though Jori didn¡¯t seem worried in the least. ¡°All this fighting¡¯ll be over soon, and things will go back to like they usually are, mostly. Rumors die just as quick as they come.¡±


    Jori cocked her head and Bernt felt uncertainly leak through their bond. ¡°What do you mean? Why?¡±


    ¡°I hear the good general¡¯s going to take the fight to the duergar, finally. They¡¯ve had Iriala scrying the enemy for weeks ¨C her and her whole team, I hear. They¡¯re pretty sure now that they can¡¯t take us direct-like at all. That might be why they ain¡¯t attacked us to our faces this whole time, like respectable folks would.¡±


    Bernt looked over and met Kustov¡¯s equally surprised gaze.


    ¡°When did you hear about this?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°Are they going soon?¡±


    ¡°I was bringing my reports by Ed¡¯s office when he got the news a few minutes ago. No idea when it¡¯s happening.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Ain¡¯t an officer, am I? Probably soon though ¨C couple of days, probably.¡±


    A couple of days¡­


    Bernt got up. Things were about to escalate, one way or another. Sure, if everything went perfectly, he¡¯d be sitting around drinking tea while the army handled everything. But¡­ when had anything ever gone perfectly? No, Josie had been right. There were spies in this city, invisible and immortal spies. And that meant they had to assume that the enemy knew whatever they knew. Anything less was just asking to be outmaneuvered.


    The Duergar had already come close to burning down the Paladins¡¯ Hall once. It revealed a little bit of how they thought. If they had good intelligence and knew that the general was making his move, they would want to take out the other major threats in the city ¨C the places where the city¡¯s most dangerous people worked. That meant the palace, the guilds, the Solicitors¡¯ Office and the Paladins¡¯ Hall. The Mages¡¯ Guild was, in his estimation, the most obvious target ¨C they were responsible for maintaining the city¡¯s defensive wards.


    Bernt couldn¡¯t do anything about that, and smarter and more powerful people than him were working on it anyway, but he had to at least look after his own interests. If the guild suffered an attack, he might lose access to the perpetual flame and all the work he¡¯d been doing on his hellfire derivative.


    The clock was ticking.


    He needed to repair his mana network, and quickly. It was time.


    ¨C---------


    Magister Pollock examined Bernt¡¯s spellform once again, moving around it to look at it from several different angles, nodding every few seconds as he found and checked off whatever he was looking for.


    Bernt couldn¡¯t quite tell exactly what the man was looking for, even though he¡¯d built the spell himself. He didn¡¯t really understand the purpose of every rune and symbol in the spellform, never mind every single bend and loop. He just used what he did know to identify the purpose of different segments of the spell and reconfigured the parts he identified as relevant in the ways he thought made the most sense to get the result he wanted.


    The problem was that each adjustment he made changed the overall shape of the spellform, which forced him to make a cascade of other adjustments to ensure that everything still worked the way it was supposed to in the first place. It had taken a long time, but he was pretty sure that this time, he¡¯d finally done it.


    The elderly Pyromancer nodded one final time and looked up.


    ¡°It¡¯s good enough, I think. Can you cast it?¡±


    Bernt shifted awkwardly. ¡°I was hoping you would,¡± he said.


    "You were, were you?¡± Pollock snorted. ¡°No, no. It¡¯s your spell. Show me!¡±


    Hesitantly, Bernt shaped the spellform. It helped that he had the pattern right there in front of him, but it still took him most of a minute before he felt sure enough to activate the spell.


    A red candle flame hovered over his open palm, just a few finger widths tall. It gave off a gentle heat that he could feel on his skin, and it burned so steadily that it looked more like a frozen teardrop of light than actual fire.


    ¡°It¡¯s still not perfect, really.¡± Pollock said, looking at it. ¡°But it¡¯s good! It¡¯s plenty good enough to get the job done. Your last attempt might have even been enough, but it¡¯s better to play it safe. Always remember to aim for perfection, but don¡¯t bother getting all the way there. It¡¯s too much work.¡±


    Bernt tried not to show his excitement, but he couldn¡¯t quite hide his grin.


    ¡°Does that mean we can get started? Where¡¯s the perpetual flame? Can we propagate it now?¡±


    Pollock grinned and flicked a finger over toward another of the rune circles in the room. A tiny pinpoint of white fire shot from the tip of his finger, growing to perhaps the size of a grape by the time it hit the rune circle and unraveled into a spellform.


    Bernt stared at it uncomprehendingly for a second, then turned back to Pollock, staring dumbly in open-mouthed shock.


    ¡°You can conjure it?¡±

 2.28 Playing With Fire

    Bernt watched as a glowing thread of his spirit slowly wormed its way out of his open palm in a loop, curling a little as it emerged.


    Carefully, he tried to push more of the damaged channel out, but it didn¡¯t work quite as well as it had the first time he¡¯d done it. Instead of going where he pushed the mana inside, it bent awkwardly and wavered in the air.


    Once the bit of thread was under the influence of the rune circle, however, things got easier. It was designed for manipulating the spirit, after all.


    With a simple effort of mana-manipulation, he extended his spirit out further, effectively lifting out the entire portion of his mana network that ran through his right arm. It didn¡¯t look visibly damaged to him like this, but he knew better. Without wasting more time, he split the looping thread of spirit at his shoulder and manipulated the now loose end through the spellform hovering in front of him.


    The process was tedious and difficult, but not especially risky at this stage. Pollock wandered off to his office as Bernt worked, and shuffled back into the laboratory a few minutes later sipping on a cup of hot coffee.


    ¡°How¡¯s that coming? Almost done?¡±


    Bernt gritted his teeth, nearly losing his concentration. He answered with a carefully polite tone. ¡°Yes, Magister, almost. If you¡¯d just give me a few more minutes.¡±


    ¡°Hrmpf,¡± the old man grumped and sat down in a chair to watch.


    A few minutes later, Bernt let out a slow breath. ¡°Alright, I think that¡¯s it. Do you mind taking a look for me, please?¡±


    Pollock rose unsteadily from his chair and shuffled around the rune circle just as he had with Bernt¡¯s hellfire derivative, checking it from different angles.


    ¡°I can see a bit of your spirit poking out of the spellform right over here.¡± He pointed. ¡°Just pull that loop in a bit tighter¡­ yes, like that. Now, let me check to make sure you didn¡¯t just mess something else up with that maneuver.¡±


    It took a few more minor corrections, but the old man finally nodded a few minutes later. ¡°Good.¡± He rubbed his hands together, eyes practically glowing with sudden excitement. ¡°Now for the good part.¡±


    He held out his gnarled hand and conjured Bernt¡¯s little red candle flame over it. ¡°Alright. Now, we¡¯re going to break the rune circle and collapse the spellform onto your mana network. You¡¯ll need to make sure you keep your mana still. You don¡¯t want to absorb away any of the perpetual flame¡¯s substance at this stage. I¡¯m going to run your new modified hellfire along the entirety of your new investiture, just to ensure we get all of the malformed areas. Then, when I give you the go-ahead, you¡¯re going to run mana through those eroded channels very gently to essentially regrow that damaged thread along our defined pathway.¡±


    Bernt took a breath and nodded. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±


    ¡°Alright, then go ahead and break the circle.¡±


    Without looking, Bernt scraped his foot forward along the ground and covered one of the runes. Instantly, the spellform collapsed, trying to reform into a flame, but it was held back by Bernt¡¯s spirit. Instead of running mana through the thread to absorb the material, though, he waited for the mana that made up the spell to settle around his spirit.


    Pollock leaned forward and, with surprisingly smooth and quick motions, ran the flame along the thread, starting at the spot where Bernt had begun to feed it into the spellform.


    Bernt didn¡¯t feel any pain and that surprised him. Shouldn''t it feel at least as bad as when he''d damaged his spirit in the first place? At first, he thought that maybe it wasn¡¯t working, but he could actually see the thread inside the spellform get thinner and dimmer as the old man worked. All the while, it felt like the spellform was growing heavier, pushing down harder on his spirit.


    It made sense. As the thread of his spirit thinned, it would be less able to resist the spell that he was trying to absorb, and he would have to concentrate harder to prevent the investiture from losing its shape. With this in mind, Bernt focused as best he could on maintaining the shape of the spellform, rather than trying to keep track of the old man. It was a surprise then, when, just a minute or so later, Pollock clapped him on the shoulder.


    ¡°Alright, run some mana through there. Go on.¡±


    Carefully, Bernt complied, sending a trickle of mana through his spirit to start and then slowly increasing the flow. It felt a little odd at first, but it worked. The mana that made up the perpetual flame¡¯s spellform thinned and disappeared, drawn into the mana flowing through his new investiture.


    Was that it? Was he done?


    ¡°Odd coloring,¡± Pollock commented, ¡°but it looks to me like it worked. Settle it into your spirit and try it out!¡±


    Bernt relaxed, letting the spellform fold in on itself as the entire thing settled into his arm and shoulder. Mana flowed through it normally, which at least meant he hadn¡¯t hurt himself with this experiment. It also felt oddly warm. Hot, even.


    He gasped as the sensation intensified, then groaned and looked down at his arm. He could see light emanating from under his skin. And it burned.


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    Panicking, Bernt screamed and danced back as if to escape the heat, but of course that didn¡¯t work ¨C it was inside him. And the pain just kept getting worse.


    ***


    Bernt¡¯s head pounded in time with his heartbeat. He tried to open his eyes, but a bright glare forced him to shut them again immediately. He groaned and tried to block the source of the light with his hands. Pins and needles prickled down his arm as he moved it.


    ¡°Ugh. What happened?¡± he said, trying to get a look at his surroundings.


    His vision swam at first, and it still hurt to look, but he realized after a moment that the light wasn¡¯t actually that bright, his eyes were just oversensitive.


    ¡°You experimented around with the investment process,¡° Iriala¡¯s voice answered, audibly irritated. ¡°So, no way to really tell, yet. You might have crippled yourself for all we know. How did you even get your hands on the perpetual flame without my authorization?¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be so dramatic,¡° Pollock answered. ¡°I conjured it for him. Besides, his mana flow looks normal and the channels on the new investiture are completely healthy. It worked! I asked you here to share the results, not to cluck over some minor side-effects.¡±


    ¡°Minor?! Are we looking at the same arm?¡± Iriala hissed, angry now. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen this before, ever! Have you?¡±


    Unsteadily Bernt focused on the offending limb, trying to make sense of what he saw there. The coloring was wrong, somehow. As his vision grew clearer, he realized that the colors were actually light that emanated out from under his skin in strange patterns, disappearing at some points only to reappear an inch away in different shades of orange and red.


    He turned his arm to see the other side and finally realized what he was looking at. His investiture was glowing. What did that mean?


    Unruffled at the archmage¡¯s outburst, the old man chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s why it¡¯s called innovation, Iriala. Bernt here has invented something new. It might help hundreds of burnt out mages who are unresponsive to alchemical treatment ¨C especially if we can iron out these side-effects. He¡¯ll be the youngest wizard to make such a contribution in a generation!¡±


    ¡°Only because you pushed him,¡± Iriala said, sounding tired now. ¡°You better hope it¡¯s not as bad as it looks. Ed is very protective of the boy, you know.¡±


    Pollock snorted. ¡°I¡¯m too old to be intimidated by overblown bruisers like him.¡±


    Bernt sat up, realizing that he¡¯d been lying on the floor of the lab on what looked like a small pile of old clothes. He cleared his throat and waved his arm between the two other mages, prompting both to break off their discussion and look his way. ¡°What¡¯s going on? Why is my mana network glowing like that in my arm?¡±


    Iriala frowned at him severely. ¡°Don¡¯t you think you should know the answer to that? You did this to yourself! I expected you to take the old man¡¯s guidance with a grain of salt, not¡­ this."


    The old man cleared his throat. ¡°Well. By the looks of it, I would guess that your new investiture manifested itself into your flesh physically. Like when you activate a spell, except that it¡¯s not a spell ¨C it¡¯s a part of your spirit.¡±


    Bernt had no idea what that meant, but it didn¡¯t sound great.


    ¡°And what does that mean?¡±


    Magister Pollock shrugged. ¡°Well, it sounds a lot like how the mana networks of sorcerers are described. I¡¯ve never seen one in person, mind you ¨C human sorcerers are exceedingly rare, since their access to magic is usually something biological, inherited through their blood. I have a book somewhere¡­ for now, it¡¯s probably best if you just try it out as you would any new investiture. There¡¯s no point in guessing when you can experiment. I can tell you that it should work just fine for casting spells. If you can channel mana, you can cast spells. And your mana seems to be flowing fine, right?¡±


    Bernt concentrated on the flow for a moment, and nodded. ¡°It feels normal.¡±


    Pollock raised both his hands in a ¡°there you go¡± gesture.


    At the old man¡¯s enthusiasm, Bernt felt a little of his own excitement return. The investment process had worked, even if it wasn¡¯t exactly as they¡¯d predicted. It was time to see what his efforts had bought him.


    Concentrating, Bernt sketched a rune into the air with his right hand, visualizing the rest of the spellform for the basic cantrip around it out in front of him.


    As he activated the torch spell, he felt an odd pressure run through his arm, then fire erupted from his palm, rolling itself into a liquid ball of flame.


    Bernt yelped and backed up a step, realizing only after he moved that the flames hadn¡¯t burned him. The two other mages looked from the spell, which was obediently hovering in the air, to him.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Pollock asked, turning back to the spell with a frown. ¡°Looks normal to me, though the light show wasn¡¯t really necessary. We can all play with fire, you know.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to do that,¡± Bernt said, still a little shaken. ¡°I cast it to appear overhead, next to your light, not in my hand. That¡¯s crazy!¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± The old man frowned. ¡°Hmm. Well. I suppose perhaps the investiture prematurely activates your spells? Not really too much of an adjustment, as long as you¡¯re careful not to burn yourself. An annoyance, more than an inconvenience, really.¡±


    Iriala scoffed, turning away. ¡°It¡¯s too godsdamned late for all this nonsense.¡± She turned to leave, cursing under her breath. ¡°Wizards!¡±


    The door slammed shut behind her.


    When she was gone, Bernt sighed and turned to Pollock. ¡°How bad is it, really?¡±


    The old man shrugged. ¡°I told you there were risks ¨C you¡¯re breaking new ground here. Don¡¯t worry about the downsides so much. Just think how concerned the first person to successfully form an investiture must have been, suddenly finding that all their spells came out wrong!¡±


    Bernt tried to smile, but it didn¡¯t come out right. ¡°I don¡¯t think I just reinvented the investiture with this,¡° he said, watching his torch spell dubiously. It''s color was oddly white, and he could feel it slowly draw mana from the air around it.


    ¡°How do you know?¡± Pollock asked, raising both bushy white eyebrows for emphasis. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you have there yet. You should treat it as a potential opportunity first. There¡¯s always time to be upset about unwelcome side effects later.¡±

 2.29 Experiments

    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s normal.¡± Jori said, staring at Bernt¡¯s arm. She was squatting on Bernt¡¯s table, the result of one of his most recent stone shaping exercises. It was mostly round and level, which made it a great success as far as Bernt was concerned, even if the supporting legs weren¡¯t all the same thickness yet. He could work on it later, maybe.


    The imp poked a finger at his arm and leaned back, as if expecting it to burst into flame. Nothing happened.


    Bernt frowned. ¡°It¡¯s fine, I think. It just activated my torch spell oddly.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Jori grumbled. ¡°It looks more like when I¡¯m making fire. See?


    She held up her clawed hand and hellfire pooled in her palm, radiating heat into the room.


    As she summoned the flames, red streaks glowed dimly underneath her dusky gray skin, following some kind of complex pattern, different from his own. It did bear a striking resemblance to his own arm, though.


    Bernt frowned. ¡°That¡¯s odd¡­¡±


    It wasn¡¯t quite the same either, though. Hers was only visible while she was casting.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Bernt asked, confused. ¡±Jori, are you a type of sorcerer? Do you know how your magic works?¡±


    Jori shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s easy. I just let it go. It¡¯s like moving my hand, or looking with my eyes. What¡¯s a sorcerer?¡±


    Bernt knew that Jori''s fire was inherent to her. It was tied to what she was¨C not something he could learn. But¡­ well, if Pollock was right, then maybe there was some kind of overlap here. He¡¯d never really thought of it as sorcery, but it made sense.


    The problem was that he didn¡¯t really know much about it. It was considered a cruder, more primeval form of magic, used mostly by monstrous races with magic in their blood ¨C dragons, kobolds, satyrs, changelings and things like that. As such, it was barely addressed at the Mages¡¯ Academy. Why teach something that students couldn''t use?


    The only non-monstrous race Bernt knew of who were known to have sorcerers were the elves, but they were even more extreme than the guilds when it came to hoarding secrets. Their entire culture viewed human mages with contempt for reasons that Bernt didn¡¯t really understand.


    But that didn¡¯t mean he was out of luck. Bernt was a guild member now. He could ask the guild librarian ¨C just because the academy didn¡¯t teach it, didn¡¯t mean the guild didn¡¯t have information on sorcery. Pollock himself had at least one text that talked about it. He¡¯d have to go and borrow it from the old man as soon as he could. Right now, he would just have to experiment and learn as much as he could on his own.


    He rummaged around in his bag, pulled out a bit of chalk, and drew a familiar rune circle on the ground. Then he cast the same spell one more time, holding his right hand directly over the circle. Once again, the spell activated prematurely, pouring fire out of his palm that organized itself into this new version of his torch spell before unraveling into a spell form over the rune circle.


    Something was different here ¨C wrong. The spellform in front of him and the one he¡¯d been trying to cast were very different. Most strikingly, the perpetual flame was there in its entirety. The torch spell was woven into it, modifying its shape and power to shed more light, consume less mana and hover in the air.


    Bernt felt a queasy sensation in the pit of his stomach. What did that mean for his other spells ¨C ones that weren¡¯t so simple or so readily compatible with this new investiture?


    ¡°What if using the hellfire turned your arm into a demon arm?!¡± Jori speculated, going off on a completely different line of thought. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re part immortal!¡±


    Bernt shook his head distractedly. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what happened, Jori. Let me try something.¡±


    He needed to see what happened if he tried to cast something else. Something that wasn¡¯t as naturally compatible with his investiture¡¯s spellform.


    Focusing on one of the wonky table legs, Bernt reached in front of himself and sketched out a simple rune, visualizing the spellform for a spell he¡¯d been getting a lot of practice in lately: his earth shaping cantrip.


    Bernt¡¯s arm warmed uncomfortably, but it didn¡¯t work. He could sense that mana was being channeled out of his right hand, but nothing manifested. It dispersed into the air and the earth beneath him, merging with the power that naturally saturated the world all around.


    Sweat broke out on his forehead.


    ¡°Uh. Jori. It didn¡¯t work. The spell failed.¡±


    Jori shrugged. ¡°Are you casting it right?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Bernt threw up his hands in frustration, but aborted the motion halfway through. Was he?


    He turned back to Jori, thinking aloud. ¡°No, you¡¯re right. The spells are coming out wrong because the entire investiture activates as a spell as soon as I try to channel mana out through my hand. So¡­ maybe Josie was on to something ¨C I shouldn¡¯t be using that hand for it. Should have been obvious, I¡¯m too distracted by all this.¡±


    Ed had also mentioned something back when he got his first investiture a couple of months ago. That, eventually, he¡¯d have to consider where in his network he drew his mana from ¨C the exit point. He doubted the old archmage had anything like this situation in mind, but it was worth trying, at least.


    Bernt focused on his mana flow as he tried again. It circulated through the network normally, but this time, he stretched out his left hand, awkwardly sketching out the same central rune for the earth shaping cantrip.


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    The spellform took shape, clear to his senses. The perpetual flame wasn¡¯t there. In fact, the spellform was exactly as it had been the day before, as if he only had his first investiture. Experimentally, Bernt cleared out the effect of the burning rain and activated it.


    He felt the spell take hold of the stone, and let out a sigh of relief as he reached into the material of the table leg to remold it, thinning it down a bit and transferring the excess material down into the floor. It was difficult work ¨C Bernt was never very good at stone shaping, but he¡¯d been getting a lot better. That didn¡¯t make it easy. In fact, it was straining his concentration. He released the spell, considering. He¡¯d need to test his other spells and find out which he could cast from his right hand, and what their spellforms looked like.


    It was going to be a long night.


    ¡°Do you think I could make my other hand do magic, too?¡± Jori said, holding up her left hand in front of her face as she examined it thoughtfully. ¡°I wonder what it would take to grow that much.¡±


    Bernt suppressed the sudden alarm he felt ¨C she would be able to feel it through the bond. ¡°It would take souls, Jori, lots of souls. Besides, you can¡¯t afford to evolve any further ¨C not any time soon, alright? I know the Solicitors don¡¯t seem very threatening anymore, and Ed has been friendly, but they were very clear. They won¡¯t let you stay if you evolve again.¡±


    Jori sighed grumpily. ¡°You get to grow. It¡¯s not fair! Even Gegrenoth is more powerful than me. I can¡¯t save anyone like this.¡±


    Bernt blinked at her. What was she talking about? Jori was the one who would be in danger if she wasn¡¯t careful.


    ¡°Who do you want to save?¡± he asked.


    The imp didn¡¯t answer, but he felt a gnawing sense of anger and fear radiate off of her. She curled into a ball next to the hearth, shut her eyes, and pretended to sleep.


    Sighing to himself, Bernt stretched out his right hand and cast a fire dart over his rune circle. The thumb-thick ball of liquid flame unraveled, and he bent to examine it.


    ***


    The next morning, Bernt went to work early in hopes of finding Ed before his shift on patrol started. He needed someone more experienced to talk to about this. Someone practical and knowledgeable.


    When he got to Ed¡¯s office, though, he found it empty. Frustrated, Bernt turned back to check the break room and almost ran into Dayle.


    ¡°Whoa there, what¡¯s got you up in such a hurry?¡± The older underkeeper laughed genially. When he saw Bernt¡¯s expression, his laugh died. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡±


    Bernt ran a hand over his face. What did he look like? He hadn¡¯t slept much.


    ¡°I got my second investiture last night¡­ It didn¡¯t really turn out well, I don¡¯t think. Do you have a minute?¡±


    Bernt caught Dayle up as they wandered back to the break room, rolling up the sleeve on his right arm to show him the glowing veins of his investiture. A few people were already there, drinking various hot beverages and exchanging gossip before shift change and watching the ward map that Kustov had installed there with the help of one of the military''s abjurers to track incursions. Josie was sitting off to one side with Nirlig, and Jori and paused in her conversation to peer curiously at Bernt¡¯s exposed arm as they sat down. He gave her a quick wave and turned back to Dayle.


    ¡°As far as I can tell, I can only cast pyromancy spells through the new investiture. They also activate as I¡¯m casting, so I can¡¯t modify the spellform. That¡¯s especially bad because the spells all come out wrong. The spellform for the perpetual flame is always there in its entirety, it doesn¡¯t just integrate a few compatible properties like it should. So, all of my fire spells are really just modified perpetual flame spells.¡±


    Dayle frowned, scratching at the stubble on his chin in thought. ¡°That¡¯s annoying. You''ll need to be careful, conjuring something like that. Perpetual flames are dangerous, you know? Even those Illurian types are pretty choosy about which bits they leave in their spells. You don''t go casting it at any mages, you hear? Not any you''re not happy to have on your conscience, that is. What about everything else?¡±


    Bernt wasn''t entirely sure what to make of that, but he nodded. ¡°I can cast almost normally if I channel through my other hand to make the spellform. But it¡¯s as if I didn¡¯t have the second investiture at all. Worse, actually. As far as I can tell, the spells are weaker. I can¡¯t channel mana from that part of the network for regular spells anymore. It¡¯s as if I were missing the arm entirely.¡±


    Dayle winced. ¡°That''s a real pickle. If the investiture didn¡¯t integrate right with your mana network, then how¡¯re you gonna fuse it into a nice, clean augmentation at the end?¡±


    Bernt frowned. ¡°Yeah. But right now I¡¯m worried about just casting spells properly at all. We have a job to do here, but I don¡¯t know if I can fight like this.¡±


    Daily waggled his hand in a so-so gesture. ¡°You''ll get used to it. I mean, perpetual flames can do some incredible damage, if you''re throwing them at the right targets. They can burn ambient mana, not just yours, so they don''t go out on their own ¨C you have to cancel the spell. You can do pretty horrible things to enemy mages or anyone wearing enchanted armor, too, because it''ll feed on their mana. Won''t do more than a normal bit of fire to a regular person, though. Still, I''d practice your fire-controlling cantrip with your other hand if I was you first, just in case. Don¡¯t want any surprises when it comes time to put the fire out again.¡±


    ¡°Can you cast the spell by itself?¡± Josie¡¯s voice asked from just behind him. Bernt jumped in his seat and turned to find the warlock standing there, eyes glued to his now oddly veined hand.


    ¡°Which spell?¡± he asked.


    ¡°The one in your arm, obviously. Jori said it looks kind of like hers. You can feel it in there, right? It stands to reason that you¡¯d be able to cast it the same way.¡±


    Bernt squinted at her skeptically, but then held out his hand and pushed a small amount of mana out, unformed. It pooled there as liquid white plasma that gave off a tiny, white flame. He could feel it pulling on the mana all around, growing slowly as it flickered there. It looked different than Pollock''s version and he realized that the mana hadn''t just shaped itself according to his new investiture. Once formed, the spell had also incorporated elements of his burning rain investiture to give it this liquid aspect.


    With a thought, he extinguished it again, canceling the effect. It was an interesting application of his new channels ¨C casting it instantly like that ¨C but it was a small consolation.


    ¡°That¡¯s good, right?¡± Josie asked. ¡°You can do a lot with something like that, and you can modify it however you want. That¡¯s a lot better than what I can do. Think of all the possibilities!¡±


    Bernt blinked at her, wrong-footed a bit by her enthusiasm. Was she trying to cheer him up?


    ¡°Yeah. I guess there are some possibilities,¡± he allowed. ¡°I¡¯ll experiment around with it some more tonight.¡± He managed a small smile, though he didn¡¯t really feel it. ¡°Magister Pollock told me he¡¯d help me develop myself further as well. He thinks I¡¯m going to be a real wizard.¡±


    Dayle nodded encouragingly, though Bernt could see the worry in his eyes. ¡°Sure, yeah. Old Pollock¡¯s probably the most powerful pyromancer I¡¯ve ever heard of, and he barely got past his first augmentation. Four investitures I think, maybe five.¡±


    Bernt stood up, swallowing down his worries. Even someone like Pollock had stalled eventually, and Bernt couldn''t imagine the old man had done anything this drastic on his second investiture. ¡°Right. Enough gloating about my inevitable rise to greatness, I¡¯ve got patrol duty to get to.¡±

 2.30 Light Reading

    Bernt felt worn out as he climbed the steps in the Mages¡¯ Guild toward Pollock¡¯s office. The day had been uneventful ¨C he¡¯d had a light assignment on patrol in the Crafting Quarter with Torvald. There was a pickpocket in the morning and a vandalism incident in the afternoon, but Torvald handled both before Bernt could even get involved.


    No, his exhaustion was in his mind. But knowing the nature of the problem didn¡¯t make it any easier to deal with. He¡¯d solved one problem by creating another. One that was already proving to be annoyingly tricky to deal with, and that he might not be able to fully overcome.


    Taking a deep breath, Bernt tried to summon the sense of excitement he¡¯d had developing his new hellfire derivative. He¡¯d done it, after all. He was a wizard, and Pollock thought he was looking at an opportunity here, something new.


    With¡­ well, not exactly a spring in his step, but slightly more energy than before, Bernt opened the door to the Wizard¡¯s Society and entered. As he made his way toward Pollock¡¯s office, he noticed for the first time that there were other people here. One of the other offices was occupied today by at least three people who were excitedly talking over one another.


    How many wizards were there in the guild here, anyway?


    Dismissing the thought, Bernt knocked on Magister Pollock¡¯s office door and entered at the man¡¯s call. He found him sitting in an overstuffed armchair in one corner of the room, books piled awkwardly one on top of another on his lap, all of them open.


    ¡°Ah! The young wizard!¡± Pollock said cheerfully. ¡°So, what did you learn?¡±


    Bernt swallowed hard. ¡°I can cast only pyromancy spells through the investiture, and they don¡¯t form correctly. They sort of weave themselves around the complete spellform for the perpetual flame. I can¡¯t modify them as I¡¯m casting, either, because the spell activates as it forms. I have to visualize the spellform completely before I even start moving mana. I don''t think I would have figured it out if I hadn''t started with a cantrip.¡± Pulling up a much more modestly proportioned chair from next to the desk, Bernt took a seat and explained what he¡¯d learned so far.


    Pollock nodded along, asking for clarification here and there, but he generally appeared content to listen. When Bernt was done, the old man smiled, eyes glittering. ¡°Well, that all sounds quite promising to me. I think you may be in a position to explore some rather obscure areas of magical theory."


    ¡°What obscure areas?¡± Bernt asked, though he was pretty sure he knew what the old man was going to say.


    The old man picked up the book on his lap and held it up demonstratively, giving it an emphatic little shake. ¡°Sorcery, of course! I found the book I mentioned to you before. This one, right here. It¡¯s a travelogue by Archwizard Finnerixes of the kingdom of Theuroma.¡±


    Pollock looked at him expectantly, as if expecting a response. Bernt had never heard of the man. Should he have? He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of him.¡±


    The old wizard gave a disappointed little shake of his head. ¡°He was a prolific researcher, you should look him up in the library some time. In his younger years, he went and lived with a clan of mountain savages across the sea, south of the Mirian city states for seven years, gaining their trust to eventually gain access to their mysteries. The people there were sorcerers ¨C some of them at least ¨C and he claims that they ¡°ignited¡± a sorcerous talent by consuming the hearts of various fey creatures. There is a lot of mystical nonsense about meditation and self-discovery here, but the crux of the matter is that they grew a mana network out from a central point in their belly ''physically manifested itself into their flesh¡¯. That¡¯s what I was referring to last night.¡±


    Bernt pursed his lips in thought. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ strange. Does that tell us anything I can use?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Pollock said, raising both eyebrows. ¡°That¡¯s what I asked myself this morning. I went and collected a few texts on the subject from my colleagues here and talked to our fine librarian to get my hands on whatever materials she might have on the subject. As it turns out, there¡¯s actually quite a bit scattered across all these scraps. Nobody seems to have bothered to put it all together into a proper treatise, so far. Maybe a good task for you, when you¡¯re done with it. If we¡¯re lucky, you might be the first person in the guild who can personally test the veracity of some of these claims.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Bernt said slowly, ¡°what did you find?¡±


    Pollock cackled. ¡°Why burden you with my own conclusions? I¡¯m just a doddering old man making guesses based on uncorroborated reports from questionable sources.¡± He placed the top book carefully down on his desk, and lifted the stack of open ones on his lap up, holding them out to Bernt. ¡°Here, read them for yourself and see what you can make of them. I already found the most interesting bits for you, though it probably wouldn¡¯t hurt for you to look into them a bit more thoroughly. We¡¯ll talk about it later, and I¡¯ll tell you if I think you missed something important.¡±


    As Bernt accepted the books, the old man rose and began to walk toward the door at a geriatric pace. ¡°You can use my chair while I¡¯m out, I¡¯m going to get something to eat. Should give you plenty of time to get some reading done. I''m not as quick as I used to be, you know.¡±


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    With that, he was gone. Bernt stared down at the books.


    That oppressive sense of failure, that he¡¯d ruined his future, didn¡¯t go away. He¡¯d made himself less versatile as a mage, weakening most of his magic and modifying his pyromancy spells in an unbalanced way. But he was curious, too. What could sorcerers do?


    Would it be worth it?


    The first book described the mana network of a lesser drake ¨C a tundra wyvern. The wizard who wrote it had killed the subject and then meticulously dissected it, mapping narrow empty channels that ran through the creature¡¯s flesh. The substance of the creature¡¯s mana network ¨C a physically manifested soul ¨C had disappeared on death, leaving only the spaces where the spiritual channels had run behind. The gaps themselves, the author posited, were proof enough that a sorcerer¡¯s mana network, unlike that of a mage, was a physical thing. He theorized that this was related to how the body parts of some magical creatures and even plants gained inherent magical properties ¨C becoming magical materials that could be used in alchemy and other types of crafting.


    Bernt stared down at his arm, examining the odd, glowing pattern on it. It might explain why his own spells didn''t burn him as he cast anymore. Not a demon arm, as Jori had suggested, but still transformed after a fashion.


    The next book was written by a war mage who fought against a tribe of centaurs who had allied themselves with the orcish nomads on the Tib¡¯nar plateau to the northeast of Besermark. He described the capabilities of their sorcerers in detail, claiming that some could cast a fireball from one hand and a heat shield from the other simultaneously. Even more surprisingly, the author suggested that sorcerers could cast a wide range of different spells, though they tended to be variations on a central theme. It sounded much like the specializations that mages naturally fell into as they developed their augmentations, except that they couldn''t ¨C or at least didn''t ¨C cast spells outside of their focus.


    The next several books had marked passages with theories on how sorcerers formed and grew what passed for their mana networks ¨C likely ones who had read some of these very sources. Their ideas ranged from the intent and will of the sorcerer to pure instinct. One suggested that the investitures that formed were likely just hereditary. That didn¡¯t interest Bernt very much. Growing this odd, fused mana network outward into the rest of his body sounded like something that would only cause further complications.


    One account, though, stuck out. It was by a regular mage, a magistrix of abjuration who claimed to have been friends with a lizardman sorcerer. Most of the text was dedicated to documenting the plants and magical materials found in the lizardmen¡¯s marshes. There was also general cultural information about the tribes who lived there, and a description of the remains of an unimaginably ancient ziggurat that rose out of the waters near the wetlands¡¯ center, and which the lizardmen shunned. The page that Pollock had opened for him, though, contained a segment dedicated to the lizardman sorcerer who had invited her and acted as her guide and, more importantly, some commentary on the nature of his magics.


    ¡°Where mages can sense and manipulate mana directly to cast spells of infinite variety, sorcerers rely on their sense of, and control over, their mana network ¨C their spirit ¨C to guide their flow of mana. With sufficient practice and focus, a skilled sorcerer may learn to manipulate it directly to a limited extent, modifying his mana flows in the process. In this way, they may also alter the spells that are produced by the spellforms embedded therein. It is a misunderstood practice of magic, and one that deserves further study¡­¡±


    Bernt sat back in his chair, reading the passage again. If he could learn how this was done, then maybe he could find a way to use this investiture correctly after all. He would have to somehow reconfigure the mana flows in the investiture, perhaps only activating some parts of it to allow them to better mesh with his normal spellforms. It would be a messy process, if it worked at all. He could feel the investiture sitting there in his arm, like a physical thing. That meant he should be able to do it, right?


    In fact, Bernt might have gained something important here. Mages couldn¡¯t really feel their mana networks or manipulate them internally, otherwise they wouldn¡¯t need the investment process. In fact, considering all this, investitures might have originally been invented as a way to imitate the mana networks of sorcerers.


    So, what did it mean for a mage, someone who could sense and manipulate mana directly, to get access to a sorcerer¡¯s power?


    Bernt laughed incredulously. It sounded a little wooden at first, but then sound bubbled out of him, taking on a life of its own. He closed the book and set the entire stack on Pollock¡¯s table. He needed to try this out.


    Then he sat back down and focused on the pathways of his new investiture. He couldn¡¯t feel the whole thing in detail, so just tried to get a sense for it. It was a little like trying to feel the specific shape of an object pressed against the skin. Something that felt like it should be easy, but wasn¡¯t. The mana running through it was much easier to distinguish, but that wasn¡¯t how it was done. He needed to learn to physically manipulate the channels somehow and he couldn¡¯t do that if he couldn¡¯t get a proper sense of them.


    ¨C----


    ¡°Well,¡± Pollock¡¯s voice came from the door, ¡°you look a lot less defeated than when you came in here.¡±


    Bernt turned to find the old man standing there, watching him. He wasn¡¯t sure exactly how long he¡¯d been meditating, but apparently it had been long enough for Pollock to finish his dinner and make his way back up here.


    He cleared his throat and nodded toward the books. ¡°I¡¯m trying to work out how these sorcerers manipulated their mana networks. If I can work out how it¡¯s done, I should be able to control the investiture better and maybe incorporate it into my spells in parts.¡±


    ¡°Good, good¡± the old wizard sighed as he sank into his armchair. ¡°That seems like a good place to start. Now, tell me. What kinds of opportunities did you see, looking through these sources, that you should explore?¡±

 2.31 Sorcery

    ¡°I just don¡¯t know what to do.¡± Torvald complained. ¡°We¡¯re fighting a powerful enemy here, but I¡¯m still just a guy with a sword. I don¡¯t understand why I haven¡¯t gotten a calling!¡±


    Bernt shrugged noncommittally. ¡°I don¡¯t really know anything about the gods, Torvald. Can¡¯t you just ask the priests? They can talk to them directly, right?¡±


    They¡¯d been assigned to haul supplies down from the surface and the two of them were hauling a heavily laden cart through the tunnels toward a designated guarded storage chamber. Someone, probably the magistrate, had decided that the Undercity was a safer place to stockpile food and various flammable goods than the warehouses at the docks up on the surface. It made sense ¨C if anything, Bernt was surprised they hadn¡¯t done it sooner.


    The timing was probably down to the general¡¯s planned assault on the duergar. They would want the city as well equipped to handle itself as possible before they sortied. With the army outside their fortifications, they would be left relatively vulnerable. That shouldn¡¯t matter, considering that the enemy should be busy with the army, but only an idiot went to war expecting things to go to plan. Or that¡¯s what Ed had said, anyway. The old war mage would know, Bernt supposed.


    ¡°No! I mean, yes, they can, but they wouldn¡¯t do it over something so petty. Priests who abuse their access to their god¡¯s ear can suffer terrible consequences. Sometimes they get demoted, but in more extreme cases they can get excommunicated entirely. It¡¯s not worth it.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± Bernt said, nodding. ¡°Fair enough. But you said you wanted to become a paladin of Ruzinia, right? I mean, maybe you¡¯re just not qualified yet. She¡¯s the goddess of hopeless situations. How many of those have you been in?¡±


    Torvald grunted thoughtfully. "I guess it¡¯s possible. There aren¡¯t any paladins of Ruzinia in Halfbridge, that I know of. The only ones serving right now are in the military, in the garrison at Fort Alborough on the border. But there isn¡¯t supposed to be a formula. It¡¯s not a simple ritual that you can do to gain access to a god¡¯s favor. You have to develop a relationship and gain their favor as you would from a king. It¡¯s a personal process, not a ritual.¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°Sure. I mean, just keep trying, I guess. I¡¯m sure there will be plenty of opportunities to prove yourself, no matter what happens with the Duergar.¡±


    Whatever happened, Halfbridge now sat directly on top of a massive warren of tunnels that they knew for certain connected to the greater Depths below. A place that teemed with monsters, including at least one elder dragon and his horde of kobolds ¨C wherever they had disappeared to. Somewhere down there was the Duergar Empire proper, where their attackers had come from as well as other mysterious peoples. Dark elves, lizardfolk, and if the rumors were to be believed, even stranger creatures who never ventured anywhere near the surface.


    ***


    Josie patrolled down the tunnel in the Goblin Quarter with Jori on her shoulder, the little imp snapping her fingers as she summoned small sparks of hellfire that were extinguished almost as quickly as they formed.


    The fire flared every two or three seconds next to Josie¡¯s head, a tiny, smelly candle flame of destruction. After perhaps the fifth time, she cleared her throat.


    ¡°Jori, stop that! You¡¯re going to set my hair on fire.¡±


    The imp lowered her hand with a sigh. ¡°I¡¯m trying to turn the flames green. Bernt can cast green fire when he wants, but mine is always red!¡±


    ¡°Alright, do you have to do it right next to my head?¡± she asked irritably. ¡°Come down and walk on your own two feet if you want to play with fire!¡±


    With a little chirp, Jori complied. Leaping from her shoulders, she spread her wings to glide forward a few steps and landed smoothly on her feet.


    ¡°Are you even sure that you can modify your fire like that?¡± Josie asked as the demon began conjuring tiny flashes of fire again. ¡°I know Bernt said sorcerers could modify their spells, but is that what you are? Warlocks can¡¯t do it, and we¡¯re using your abilities, right?¡±


    ¡°Sure ¨C I already did!¡± Jori exclaimed proudly and snipped her fingers in demonstration in a small burst of fire. ¡°Can¡¯t you see how tiny my fire is? I can squeeze down on the channel right at the top and it makes the fire go smaller! I¡¯m going to be a real demon sorceress. Just wait and see!¡±


    Josie frowned, concentrating on the looping formation in her hands. She could sort of ¡°squeeze¡± down on it, sure, but that just activated the ability. She hummed consideringly. ¡°I can¡¯t do it. Do you think it might be part of the pact? It describes what power I should get from the midnight hag exhaustively. It¡¯s for my protection, but it might also limit what I can do with it.¡±


    ¡°No idea.¡± Jori said, trying again. This time, the tiny burst of hellfire shot straight up into the tunnel ceiling, cutting through one of the glowing vines to send a few softly glowing leaves tumbling down. Jori caught one and jumped up and down in excitement. ¡°Wow! That was different. See? Who knows what I can do!¡±


    ¡°I guess it makes sense,¡± Josie mused. ¡°Minor and lesser demons are pretty well understood, you all have the same basic abilities. Once they reach class 6 or 7, though, they start developing unique power profiles. I mean, that¡¯s why greater demons get their own classification. Maybe that¡¯s all they¡¯re really doing ¨C learning to manipulate a sorcerous mana network.¡±


    Jori shook her head. ¡°No. New, different abilities need growth ¨C new channels. I don¡¯t know how to do that, exactly. I would have to grow to try, and your master would send me back to the hells. He said he would do it.¡± She cast another quick burst of hellfire into the air. ¡°Squeezing a channel is easy. Anyone can learn it with a little time. I¡¯m going to start with that!¡±


    ¡°So why don¡¯t all demons do it?¡± Josie asked, voicing the obvious question.


    ¡°Maybe they don¡¯t know they should try,¡± Jori said, sounding a little sad. ¡°Nobody teaches us. We have to learn everything by ourselves.¡±


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Josie saw the little demon grimace and smiled at her. ¡°Hey, maybe most demons, but you don''t. You have friends!¡±


    More than any demon she''d ever heard of, in fact. It was really a unique situation. Jori looked up at her and nodded seriously.


    ¡°I do. Yes.¡±


    ¨C-------


    ¡°Damn it, Iri.¡± Ed grumbled, ¡°Old Pollock? Really? Your timing could have been better. He was just starting to make himself useful. I had to take him off the interception team and start sending Fiora out. Says he thinks he can get proper control of his fire spells again ¡®soon¡¯, but who knows how long he¡¯s going to be laid up.¡±


    Iriala kept her eyes fixed on General Arice, who was describing the tactics he intended to use to break through the duergar defenses to the assembled stakeholders for the city¡¯s defense. Much of these plans were based directly on Iri¡¯s own scrying, so he supposed maybe she actually found it interesting. Ed thought a windbag like Arice shouldn¡¯t be explaining this sort of thing in the first place ¨C he should have just let the tactician that made the damned plan give this talk.


    After a moment, Iri nodded to herself and turned to fix him with a neutral stare. ¡°He was dabbling in creating his own fire spells, Ed. He was going to meet him sooner or later. Bernt needed some proper guidance and Magister Pollock is an enthusiastic and competent teacher, if a bit reckless. If you¡¯d sponsored his guild membership, you might have delayed the inevitable a bit, but not by much. He did it to himself, you know, and it was his own idea. Without Pollock he would have probably killed himself with that experiment.¡±


    Ed hummed irritably. ¡°I told him to wait until he was a magister himself before he started playing around with his mana network. A little experience can go a long way.¡±


    Iriala sighed and rolled her eyes at him. ¡°Yes Ed, you always listened to the wisdom of your elders when you were young. At least we got that banefire spell from him. You should have seen the face on Arice¡¯s Pyromancer Colonel when I gave it to him. They¡¯ve been stuck on heat shielding duty this whole time, just trying to keep the demons from cooking their troops down in those kobold tunnels."


    Ed pulled the unlit pipe from his mouth and scowled down at it for a moment. Then he knocked the dead ash out of it onto the ground next to him and reached for the bag of tobacco he always kept in his left sleeve. ¡°Good for them, I guess.¡± It was embarrassing that they needed it, really. The military should already have effective doctrines and tools for dealing with an enemy like this in the Depths. In fact, he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they did, and Arice just didn¡¯t know what he was doing.


    That asshole rubbed him the wrong way, prancing around over there, trying to look smart in front of the count instead of doing his job. Everyone could see the damned tactical map on the table. What did they need him talking for?


    ¡°How is that dwarf¡¯s project going?" Iriala said, changing the subject. "He showed up in my office with Janus yesterday, asking for one of my engineers ¨C a hydromancer. They were awfully hush-hush about it.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Ed nodded, relaxing a little. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s a contingency I set him on. I¡¯d rather not talk about it too much, if you don¡¯t mind. You never really know who or what¡¯s listening, and we¡¯re sitting a little too close to all the most interesting people in this city, as far as those damned dwarves out there are concerned.¡±


    ¨C-------


    ¡°How did you do it?¡± Bernt asked, opening the window shutters to let the stink out of their living room. Jori had just cast a broad, diffuse cloud of hellfire into their living room. It evaporated almost immediately, leaving the room hot and reeking of sulfur.


    Jori shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not really that hard. I just think about what I want it to do and then try it out. It¡¯s like learning how to fly!¡±


    ¡°Thanks, that¡¯s very helpful.¡± Bernt said sarcastically. Jori had described the way she modified her casting as squeezing or pushing on the channels. To Bernt, that sounded like she was essentially restricting mana flow in some areas or cutting them off from the rest of the network, maybe even changing the shape of the mana network slightly. The problem was he had no idea how she was doing that. It didn¡¯t feel like much through the bond.


    He could feel the investiture there, sure. He could even sense the mana coursing through it, something that proper sorcerers couldn¡¯t do as far as he''d read. But squeezing it physically with his muscles didn¡¯t do anything at all as far as he could tell.


    That made sense. It was his spirit, after all. Even if it was physically manifested, why would pushing on it physically do anything?


    But then, how was he supposed to manipulate it? Bernt growled in frustration. If only he could cast his spells normally through his right hand ¨C maybe figure out a way to sort of disconnect parts of the structure as he cast mana through in a mostly straight line, then maybe he could at least cast his spells almost normally. Then he could work bits of the new investiture into them as needed and take his time.


    He held his hand up to cast another torch spell next to the three already hanging in the air in front of him. Unlike his normal version, these spells would stay lit indefinitely ¨C drawing mana from the environment to sustain them. He supposed if he cast enough of them, they should eventually drain the power from their surroundings and create a sort of mana desert in the house, choking out the perpetual torch spells. Not an ideal environment for a mage, either.


    With a thought, he extinguished two of the lights before continuing, dispersing the mana that it burned back into the environment while absorbing the mana that defined its structure back into himself. It was slightly more complicated than canceling a ¡°normal¡± spell, which was done simply by withdrawing his mana from it, but it didn¡¯t take more than a moment either way.


    He just wanted one channel, the shortest path through the investiture, skipping as much of its complex structure as possible. Concentrating on his goal, he cast the spell. As he did, he felt an odd prodding sensation in his arm. Then the channels warmed as the spell manifested, and fire poured from his palm, rolling into a ball.


    He stared at it. ¡°Did it work?¡±


    Jori shrugged.


    Frustrated, he cursed himself for not chalking a rune circle down on the ground before he started. Except for the way it manifested, his new torch spell looked almost exactly like the old one to the naked eye. He had no way to tell if he¡¯d managed to change anything.


    Bernt focused on the air around the spell, trying to sense if it was absorbing mana from the air around it. It didn¡¯t feel like it. Not like the older spell hanging next to it.


    ¡°Hey, I think I did it!¡± he said, sounding surprised, even to himself. He¡¯d done something.


    Jori looked up at the light, squinting skeptically. She reached up and lobbed an uneven glob of liquid flame up into the air, where it hung awkwardly, rotating crazily around its own axis and giving off an unpleasant smell to go with its reddish light. It didn¡¯t form into a ball.


    Jori nodded at it proudly. ¡°Mine¡¯s better,¡± she opined.

 2.32 Clean-Up Duty

    ¡°Sir, don¡¯t you think this is too much?¡± Josie asked, putting the note down on Radast¡¯s desk. ¡°You¡¯re framing her as a cute, friendly neighborhood mascot. She¡¯s a hellfire-throwing demon who seems to have just barely discovered the concept of empathy. I don¡¯t want to downplay that achievement, but I think we have to keep the story realistic enough for people to swallow. I mean, she still harvests the soul residues from any of the dead she can get her hands on. There are rumors out there about that as well ¨C it¡¯s not so subtle that there haven¡¯t been witnesses.


    Radast shrugged. ¡°Have you heard what¡¯s being said out there? A bit of hyperbole won¡¯t make a difference. We''re going to give it a try. It¡¯s not really about telling a specific story ¨C we¡¯re just trying to push public sentiment into the right direction. We can always adjust the messaging a bit if it doesn¡¯t take.¡± The Chief Solicitor leaned back into his seat, steepling his fingers. ¡°We don¡¯t have an unlimited amount of time to work with. We need to reassure people, keep them from thinking purely in terms of black and white. That¡¯s hard enough when it¡¯s just those priests from the Temple of Balarian in the streets trying to incite the populace against us. The enemy has shades and watchers in the city, and their influence isn¡¯t so subtle that people haven¡¯t noticed. We have to keep our message as simple as possible if we want to get anywhere, so ¡®little friendly demon mascot¡¯ is what we¡¯re going with.¡±


    Josie nodded resignedly. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll go and brief solicitor Bartholomew and he can get it out to the pubs.¡±


    With a respectful bow, she turned and made her way down the stairs toward Barty¡¯s office.


    She didn¡¯t like where this whole propaganda campaign was going. The controversy didn¡¯t bother her ¨C that was always going to happen. She was honestly surprised that it wasn¡¯t worse. While some of the temples seemed to be responding with alarm to the positive sentiment building for Halfbridge¡¯s local celebrity demon, others had left it alone so far. Torvald, who admittedly wasn¡¯t associated with a specific temple, had especially surprised her. He had gone so far as to sit down and chat with Jori, though he still seemed a bit uncomfortable doing it.


    No, what bothered her was how innocent and altruistic they were making Jori out to be. Sure, she really had saved some lives, fighting that warlock, participating in patrols and even saving the adventurers down in the dungeon before the Duergar got here. But they weren¡¯t being honest about the how and why.


    Josie liked Jori ¨C she was fun! And she¡¯d learned a lot just by talking to the little imp about her life. But because of those conversations, she also knew that Jori¡¯s pro-social behavior was only really genuine toward the people she considered her friends. Outside of honoring bargains she genuinely didn¡¯t understand basic moral standards, most notably why killing strangers would be wrong. People would feel betrayed and lied to when the truth came out, and Josie didn¡¯t want that.


    She would have preferred to tell the truth. They had a demon in Halfbridge who had learned to form emotional attachments. That was groundbreaking all on its own and it should be treated as such. Radast¡¯s preferred narrative might help them in the here and now, but she couldn¡¯t see how it wouldn¡¯t lead to problems in the longer term.


    ¨C-------


    ¡°Look, I can help!¡± Bernt said, holding up his left hand. ¡°It¡¯s not quite as powerful as it was, but I can cast Banefire just fine with my left hand. I don¡¯t need to be sidelined like this, especially with Kustov off doing whatever his new secret project is.¡±


    Fiora shook her head. ¡°Bernt, Ed would have taken you off of combat duty no matter what, even if everything had gone well with your new investiture. You don¡¯t need to prove anything here, he was just griping. You have to get used to your new normal before you can be a reliable asset in a fight. It¡¯s standard procedure for war mages, and good sense for anyone.¡± She shuffled through a stack of papers in her hands, looking over them with a worried expression. ¡°Besides, we didn¡¯t really have time to train a lot of the new underkeepers properly, and we¡¯ve had all the mages down here fighting the duergar for weeks. It hasn¡¯t really gone that well ¨C the sewers could use some attention from a real professional. Things are piling up a bit.¡±


    Bernt sighed. He should have known. At least he could get something proper to eat, assuming at least that Cal hadn¡¯t run out of mystery meat and cabbage.


    ¡°How bad is it?¡±


    ¨C-----


    Bernt¡¯s boots made little splashing sounds as he turned onto the narrow street down by the docks that led to the tenement he used to call home. Black water had poured up out of the sewers into the street, giving the dingy neighborhood a smell to match its reputation.


    The place was nearly deserted, but he could see someone wading through the muck a block away, most likely trying to get to higher ground. Bernt sighed. He could clear the blockage, but the street would probably smell this bad for weeks ¨C at least until they had some proper rain. A few days¡¯ worth at least.


    Ignoring the stench, he made his way down toward the nearest storm drain. He was going to have to use a hydromancy spell to force water through whatever obstruction was down there, and that was not going to be fun. Water was by far Bernt¡¯s least favorite element to work with ¨C the spellforms for it didn¡¯t align in a way that made sense to him, so memorizing and reproducing them properly was a nightmare.


    At least he had a better focus now than the last time he¡¯d done this.


    Reaching down into the muck, he hauled the grate covering the drain up to give himself better access. Then, he gripped his staff in both hands and dipped the end down into the water to trace out runes in odd circular patterns. It still felt awkward channeling mana from his left hand, and he had to be careful not to activate the spell prematurely.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Someone like Uriah could do this in his sleep, despite the fact that the man had never finished his first augmentation. But Uriah wasn¡¯t here ¨C he¡¯d moved to Loamfurth to escape Ed¡¯s ambitions for the Underkeepers. It was going to take Bernt minutes just to get the spellform shaped correctly.


    ¡°Bernt!¡± called a familiar voice from a window. ¡°I knew you had something to do with this!¡±


    Trying not to lose his concentration, Bernt activated the spell, forming a circular current in the water below and then driving it up to run downstream as close to the tunnel ceiling as possible. Ideally, it would force water through the obstruction near its weakest point and begin tearing it down. The dammed up waters behind should, at that point, go a long way toward clearing out whatever was down there. They were barely a hundred strides from the sewer mouth here, so the debris didn''t need to get flushed very far.


    He heard it when the obstruction gave way ¨C a low rushing sound that sounded from a short way further down the road. He breathed a small sigh of relief and looked up.


    Rina, his old landlady, glared down at him from a window. This wasn¡¯t his old building. Did she own the whole street?


    ¡°Hello Rina.¡± he said, his tone almost polite. She¡¯d evicted him from his former apartment while he was out a few months earlier. The money he¡¯d spent living at an inn while he fruitlessly searched for a new place had more than erased the money he¡¯d saved by choosing to live in such a small, dingy room in the first place. ¡°I had something to do with what, exactly?¡±


    ¡°All of this shit in my street, obviously!¡± she snapped. ¡°This place has been a cesspool for nearly a week. Inveron¡¯s boys from the pub tried to clear it a few days ago so the customers would come back, but the water came back up the same day. You¡¯re telling me that happens all by itself?¡± She scoffed. ¡°Now you¡¯re here, doing what? Checking on your work?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m doing my job.¡± Bernt gritted his teeth. He wanted to tell her what she could do with her shitty street, but that wasn¡¯t going to improve the situation here. And it wasn¡¯t as though he could reason with the woman. There was nothing to be gained talking to her at all. Although¡­


    ¡°It resealed itself the same day?¡± he asked. ¡°When was this?¡±


    The middle-aged slumlord stared at him with narrowed eyes before finally answering. ¡°Two days ago.¡±


    Bernt cursed to himself. He was going to have to go down there and look.


    ¡°Where have you and your friends been? Ignoring your duties and consorting with goblins, I hear! And Demons! We hear things here, too, you know. We know what you¡¯re trying to do, spitting in the eyes of the gods with your filth!¡±


    Ignoring Rina¡¯s ranting, Bernt walked a bit further down the street, past where the actual obstruction was, to the nearest sewer access shaft. Opening it, he climbed down, and cast a torch spell to get a better look at the situation down in the sewer.


    Water rushed by in a torrent, though the water level had already sunk quite a bit. His spell had worked, but he needed to make sure that the obstruction was fully cleared. Normally, he would have waited a few minutes up in the street, but he found that he preferred this to remaining within earshot of his former landlady.


    Within a minute, the flow began to slow and Bernt put a booted foot down into the water to gauge its depth. It still reached up to his ankle at the shallower sides that were technically meant to function as a dry walkway. Good enough.


    Heading back upstream, Bernt kept a close eye on the ceiling of the sewer tunnel. It was dry here, but the ceiling on the far side of the obstruction would be completely wet, so it should give him a rough idea of where exactly the sewer had been clogged up. As it turned out, he needn¡¯t have bothered.


    Two big pipes emptied into the sewer from opposite sides here, leading in from the large, ugly tenement buildings. While the sewer itself looked clear right now, Bernt shuddered in revulsion when he caught sight of what was causing the problem. The pipes on either side of the tunnel were completely blocked by a translucent, gelatinous goo that roiled hideously within them. As he watched, it began to pour itself out of the pipes and along the walls as if testing the environment all around. The sight was disgusting, even for him and he had to swallow down his gorge and look away.


    Slimes didn¡¯t have most of the traditional five senses like natural creatures did. Instead, they relied on touch and taste to interact with their environment and consumed organic matter to fuel their growth. These slimes here had likely done a lot of growing. They could eat almost anything, and slimes in the wild had been known to strip the fields of entire villages if left unchecked. They would also consume people and animals if they could creep up on them unawares.


    Fortunately, they weren¡¯t terribly fast, and they didn¡¯t do well in arid environments. Still, Bernt wondered uncomfortably just how many of these things he¡¯d just inadvertently sent down the river. Then again, that¡¯s what he would have had to do regardless. Slimes were heat sensitive, but it wasn¡¯t as though he could boil an entire sewer¡¯s worth of water.


    Backing up, he focused on the problem at hand and raised his right hand. This was a complication, but also an opportunity. Slimes were magical creatures, and he needed to know what that meant with regard to his new investiture.


    Without using any spellform at all, Bernt poured mana into his right hand unguided. White, liquid fire filled it ¨C his sorcerous perpetual flame, but more than that. It also carried the influence of his first burning rain investiture. He wasn¡¯t sure exactly why it worked, but Pollock had posited that the investiture woven into his mana network would naturally insert itself into any active spellform, whether he consciously shaped it or not. He could feel the heat of it on his skin, but it didn¡¯t burn him. He still didn¡¯t understand why that was, exactly. He¡¯d have to see if Pollock had any guesses.


    With an overhand motion, he flung it at the nearest slime, much the way that Jori wielded her hellfire. It impacted with a satisfying sizzle and the slime began to shiver and wriggle oddly. A moment later, steam hissed from it and the entire thing lost cohesion, collapsing into a sticky puddle. The fire, though, didn¡¯t go out. It spread up the pipe, eating through the slimes inside.


    Alarmed, Bernt extinguished the spell before it got too far away from him. Who knew what would happen if the fire came out the other end of the pipe? He would have to get inside the building and clear it from the top down. Still, it had an interesting effect. He tried it again on the other side, with the same result. Who would have thought that such a dangerous spell would offer such simple, practical utility in everyday life?

 2.33 Opening Moves

    By the time Bernt made his way back toward the Undercity Gate, it was already getting dark. He shivered in the cold evening air ¨C winter was just around the corner and the nights were getting chillier every day. For a moment, he considered trying a warming variation on his clothes-cleaning cantrip that he¡¯d developed the previous winter, but decided against it. He¡¯d never tried to cast it with an investiture before, never mind doing it left-handed.


    He opted for some hot food instead.


    ¡°Bernt! Haven¡¯t seen you around here in a while.¡± Cal said as he processed his order with the rote efficiency of a true professional cabbage slinger. ¡°What happened?¡±


    He shrugged apologetically. ¡°I moved down into the new Undercity, and work¡¯s kept me down there most days since. I¡¯d be by more often if I could ¨C those dwarves are a real headache.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? I haven¡¯t really heard anything. Things seem mostly quiet around here except for the mobilization. The guards came by a week ago and picked up all the day-laborers and porters down by the docks and such. Other than that, food just got a lot more expensive. I hope they break the siege soon, because winter¡¯s going to be a problem otherwise, I think. A lot of people are worried.¡±


    Bernt grunted in agreement and nodded. He accepted the paper bag of food, paid and headed homeward, ducking through a few alleyways to cut into the Crafter¡¯s District. He¡¯d nearly made it to the plaza that contained the Undercity Gate when the ground shook and an enormous rumbling boom thundered through the city.


    He stumbled and nearly dropped his cabbage roll. What was that?


    There were a few shouts in the distance, probably other pedestrians asking what happened. Collecting himself, Bernt hurried forward toward the guard station at the Undercity Gate. Palina was there, at her usual spot along with a younger dwarf who was trying to calm down a passerby who¡¯d stopped to question him.


    ¡°Well, we have to know what to do, right?¡± The man insisted. ¡°This is your job, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir, we¡¯re going to let you know as soon as we get an update, alright? Right now, I just need you to remain calm and get indoors. It could be any number of things, but we don¡¯t know anything more than you do.¡±


    ¡°Indoors?!¡± The man scoffed. ¡°Did you feel the ground shake? For all we know the buildings are going to start collapsing down on us!¡±


    ¡°Or,¡± the dwarf said patiently, ¡°since we¡¯re under siege, we might consider whether the enemy has broken through our wards with artillery. Considering the circumstances, I would suggest getting under cover.¡±


    Offended by the dwarf¡¯s apparent lack of urgency the man¡¯s face started turning red as he puffed himself up, preparing to extend his angry tirade. Palina put a hand on the other guard¡¯s shoulder and pulled him back a little.


    ¡°Now, listen he¨Cargh!¡± the man cut off with a yelp as Palina lightly stamped the butt of her spear onto his toe. He limped back, cursing loudly.


    ¡°Move along!¡± she called after him unnecessarily in a pleasant voice, before she saw Bernt approaching and waved.


    ¡°Evening.¡± Bernt called in reply. ¡°Sounds like a rough night ahead, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    Just then, a trumpet sounded far in the distance. After a few seconds, a closer one took up the signal as well. They were long repetitive bursts ¨C a general alarm. Not even the trumpeter knew what the problem was, yet.


    Another thunderous boom rattled the city, even louder this time, and Bernt heard the rumble of collapsing masonry follow. A massive dust cloud rose somewhere over the lower district, further darkening the evening sky.


    Palina watched the dust rise with a worried expression. ¡°Probably. But this is the City Guards¡¯ problem. You should get down below and see what¡¯s coming up on our end. For all we know, this is a distraction. I wouldn¡¯t count on getting home any time soon.¡±


    Groaning inwardly, Bernt nodded to the two of them and forced his tired limbs into a jog. It had already been a long day. He just wanted to go home and maybe try to work on his control over his sorcerous investiture. The last thing he needed now was a fight.


    ***


    By the time Bernt reached the Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters, word had gone out in the Undercity. The market area, which should have been teeming with activity at this time of day, was deserted except for a few merchants who were still hastily packing away their goods. Gray-clad guards trickled in from various parts of the Undercity, some not even fully dressed yet. Bernt waved to a young goblin guard named Hixle as he came rushing out of the tunnel to the Goblin Quarter.


    ¡°What do we know?¡± Bernt asked as the two met up and started to make their way across the square.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Hixle said a little breathlessly. ¡°General alarm ¨C double patrol size and stand by, I¡¯m guessing.¡±


    Bernt cursed. It was essentially what he¡¯d been expecting. There was no way he would get any sleep tonight.


    The courtyard in front of the Underkeepers¡¯ Complex was teeming with activity. Glim was bawling orders, lining up newer guard recruits and checking their equipment. Ed stood off to the side with Fiora, Dayle, Rindle, Lin and Josie. The other mages and the missing goblin druid were likely out on patrol.


    Jori was inside, and Bernt could hear her giving instructions to her two interns through their familiar bond. The children should have already gone home, but he supposed it was probably safer here than up on the surface right now. Farrin would be worried, though.


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    As Hixle moved off to join the guards, Bernt went over to Ed¡¯s group.


    ¡°¨Cwill stay here to watch the wards,¡± the archmage was saying. ¡°Arice is supposed to make his move soon, or maybe he already did and they¡¯re fighting down in the tunnels right now. He didn¡¯t want to give us an exact time for fear of being overheard. Whatever the case, this all might just be some collateral damage from a battle we can¡¯t even see. Iri would know, but she¡¯s up at the guild. Worst case, though, the Duergar preempted the attack and we¡¯re on the defensive. You¡¯re our heaviest hitters, so until word gets through, I want all of you to stay here. If we have a real fight on our hands, we can¡¯t afford to have all our forces prematurely committed with nothing in reserve.¡±


    Turning toward the assembled guards, Ed cleared his throat, and the sound echoed through the courtyard, amplified by a spell. ¡°I¡¯m going to have Glim organize patrols of three to keep an eye on the streets down here. Make your presence known, tell people to get inside and do your best to reassure people. If you run into looters¡­ do your best. But don¡¯t get killed, just make sure you get a good look at their faces. The army might be out of position, so we need to be prepared to deal with more incoming duergar than before. We can¡¯t afford to get into fights with our own people today.¡±


    Glim, taking his cue, began to organize the guards around him into teams of three.


    Ed nodded to himself, then continued, more quietly. ¡°I¡¯m going to check on Kustov and his little project. I shouldn¡¯t be long, but Fiora¡¯s in charge in the meantime. Watch those wards closely and see if you can get word from the surface or from the front line. I already sent someone over to check on the general, and the gate guards have instructions to run any critical updates down to us. We should have a better idea of what¡¯s going on soon.¡±


    With that, he turned to leave and caught sight of Bernt, who was standing between him and the door.


    ¡°Bernt, how¡¯s the hand? Are you good to fight?¡± he asked. It wasn¡¯t really a question. What was he going to do, hide with the civilians while an army swept through the city?


    Bernt nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Ed thumped him on the shoulder as he passed by and disappeared out into the street.


    Fiora cleared her throat. ¡°Alright.¡± She looked around, seeing that Glim had the patrols in hand, and turned to go inside. ¡°Let¡¯s go grab a cup of tea and wait for the wards to go off.¡±


    ***


    Bernt sipped his tea, watching the ward-map with Dayle. Through the bond, he casually eavesdropped on Jori. She was in the kitchen with Lin, who was cooking up some kind of experimental spice broth as a ¡°tea¡± for the little imp at her request. Bored with the goblin¡¯s regular mixtures, Jori had asked if she didn¡¯t have anything with any ¡°real flavor¡± to it. Lin had, apparently, taken that as a challenge.


    ¡°Do you think they really timed it that well?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°I mean, to get past the army and break in here in force?¡±


    Dayle pulled a face. ¡°Couldn¡¯t tell you. Don¡¯t know what they know, do I? Still, though, it ain¡¯t that easy to run an army around an enemy on the move. Arice has scryers keeping an eye out, and the guild, too. They¡¯d need to counter-divinate, and then still get the timing right. There would be some luck involved no matter how they tried it.¡±


    Jori and Lin made their way back toward his table, chatting amiably. Jori was holding an enormous, steaming cup in both hands. Or rather, the cup was normal-sized, but it looked gigantic on the tiny creature.


    ¡°Go on, try it!¡± Lin urged as they sat down. Grinning in anticipation, Jori lifted the witch¡¯s concoction to her mouth and her eyes went wide. She gulped it down eagerly and slammed the cup down on the table with a whoop. Flames spewed from her mouth. Not hellfire, just the regular, mundane kind.


    ¡°Tasty!¡± She cheered, causing even more fire to spill out, this time also from her nose. That provoked an even greater reaction as she broke into hysterical laughter, making the problem even worse. Lin cackled with amusement and Bernt smiled at their antics.


    ¡°It tickles!¡± she wheezed, as she caught her breath nearly a minute later and the flames finally died down.


    The door opened and everyone turned to look. Glim entered, followed by about a dozen other tired-looking guards ¨C those left over after setting up the patrols. Most likely they were guards who, like Bernt, would have been on their way home right now if not for the emergency. Right behind them though, followed a harried-looking dwarf ¨C the same one who¡¯d been guarding the Undercity gate with Palina.


    ¡°Is Archmage Thurdred here?¡± he asked, looking around urgently as the others got settled.


    ¡°Come here!¡± Fiora called, waving him over. ¡°Ed¡¯s out for a bit. Just tell us what¡¯s going on and we¡¯ll let him know when he gets back. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Alright.¡± The young man hurried over and saluted unnecessarily. ¡°Uh. I¡¯m Drugni, ma¡¯am. The City Guard sent someone by to brief us. There have been three strikes in the last hour, all from inside the city ¨C they¡¯re not sure if it was an alchemical or enchanted explosive device, or if the enemy snuck someone who could cast powerful artillery spells into the city. The city¡¯s wards haven¡¯t been breached, but we lost the City¡¯s Alchemical Reserve Stockpile and the Solicitor¡¯s Office partially collapsed.¡±


    Josie, who was sitting with Fiora, sat up straight with a stunned expression.


    The warlock opened her mouth to talk, but the older mage put a hand on her shoulder as she held the guard¡¯s gaze. ¡°What about the third strike?¡±


    ¡°The guard said it struck the Mages¡¯ Guild, but the building¡¯s wards held. The blast leveled several smaller buildings nearby.¡± Drugni swallowed. ¡°He said there were a lot of bodies.¡±


    There were murmurs at that, and Dayle cursed loudly as Fiora frowned contemplatively.


    ¡°Anything about the city¡¯s wards?¡± Dayle cut in when Fiora didn¡¯t say anything. At the same moment Josie recovered her composure enough to ask: ¡°What about the Solicitor¡¯s Office?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t say anything specific about the warlocks,¡± the guard shrugged. Judging by his expression, Bernt guessed Drugni hadn¡¯t asked. ¡°It sounds like the wards are holding, but there has been some bombardment ¨C looked like spells and projectiles, but not too much of it.¡± the dwarf went on, turning to Dayle. ¡°There was no mention of anything else, and there haven¡¯t been any signals for a breach.¡±


    Fiora grunted and looked around the room, raising her voice. ¡°Alright, everybody. This means nobody is going home tonight. If you were just on duty, I want you resting or sleeping here at headquarters. Use the back rooms for sleeping. It¡¯s not comfortable, but it¡¯ll do. Drugni, stay here and rest for a while, we¡¯ll send two guards up to relieve Palina in a few minutes ¨C we¡¯re still waiting on a few stragglers to get here.¡±


    With a wave of dismissal, the mage turned to Josie, putting a hand on her shoulder to speak a few quiet words. The Solicitor looked miserable, but she nodded and took a sip of her tea. Bernt thought maybe he should go over there and say something to make her feel better, but he couldn¡¯t think of anything appropriate. What were you supposed to say at a time like this?


    In the end, he settled for bringing her a fresh cup of tea. Then he sat down at her table and returned to watching the ward map. He didn''t really need words to tell her that she wasn''t alone, anyway.

 2.34 Before the Storm

    By the time Bernt finished his tea, Ed returned with Kustov and a few Underkeeper Guards in tow. Ed had intercepted the messenger returning from the army on his way back. After hearing Fiora¡¯s report on the situation on the surface, he filled them in.


    ¡°They started attacking on the front line before Arice even made his move. Nothing too unusual so far down here, they¡¯re just testing our defenses, but the general put his assault on hold for the time being. The timing is suspicious, and the fact that they¡¯re pushing on the surface is too. The strikes suggest that they¡¯re making a move. Losing the alchemical reserve is more of a long-term problem, and one that¡¯s going to cause real morale issues the longer this goes.¡±


    Fiora groaned and rubbed at her face. ¡°I hate this. We don¡¯t know a damned thing and we¡¯re expected to just sit here and wait for the enemy to spill in? What kind of strategy is that? And where is the militia? Shouldn¡¯t the count have mobilized some more bodies for us by now?¡±


    Ed grunted. ¡°He did, just not for us. We¡¯re the only part of the city that can¡¯t be bombarded, and we have the army between us and the enemy. They¡¯ll be working to clear rubble, run salvage and dig for survivors up on the surface.¡±


    That and the Undercity was meant to be an early warning system, buffer zone, and slum. It was far too nice to be considered the latter, but Bernt supposed the count hadn¡¯t actually seen it for himself. He wouldn¡¯t want to expend too many resources protecting it. Its ¨C and therefore the Underkeepers¡¯ ¨C purpose was to slow the enemy down long enough for the military and the guilds to respond, not to get tax-paying citizens killed.


    Bernt rose and nodded to the others. ¡°I¡¯m going to try to catch a bit of sleep.¡± They were stuck waiting for the moment. If the duergar started blowing things up in the Undercity in a few hours, at least he wouldn¡¯t be tired.


    ***


    Iriala stalked furiously into the castle¡¯s secondary meeting room. Some traitorous asshole had decided to show up and throw a bomb at her building. The culprit blew herself up in the process as well, which was unfortunate, even if it was no less than she deserved.


    It hadn¡¯t been an incendiary, like the alchemical device that Radast had shown her. No, it was some kind of enchanted ward-breaker. A concussion bomb, essentially a powerful force spell locked into a rune of holding that was carved onto a simple rock. The rock was loaded into an enchanted metal shell designed to bypass specific kinds of wards and rune circles, which would also trigger the device. The thing had actually made it past one layer of the Guild¡¯s wards. That alone suggested far more familiarity with their defenses than Iriala was comfortable with. The worst of the explosion was stopped by the building¡¯s carefully warded walls, but it had still blown out their windows.


    And now, instead of fixing this mess, scrying enemy movements, and focusing on the city¡¯s magical defenses, she¡¯d been summoned to a meeting. Iriala loved intrigue and politics as a general rule, but there were times where she could understand Ed¡¯s scornful attitude all too well.


    ¡°Nice of you to join us.¡± Theresa, the head of the local Alchemists¡¯ Guild, said with a self-important smirk. The room was filled with the city¡¯s most important people ¨C guild representatives, military, clergy, and a few noble relatives of the count. A few tittered.


    Iriala scowled. Gods above, these idiots were still playing at court politics while fire rained down on the wards. At this rate, she was going to have an aneurism before the night was done. But she controlled her expression and bowed to the count.


    ¡°Count Narald, please excuse my late arrival. I stopped to check on the wards.¡± That wasn¡¯t true, of course ¨C it was just an unsubtle reminder that was where she should be right now.


    Narald nodded to her and waved her toward the empty seat behind him and to his left ¨C the one reserved for her as the court mage.


    ¡°Not to worry, archmage. This will only take a moment.¡± he turned to his left, where a uniformed soldier stood at attention. ¡°Young man, if you please.¡±


    The soldier saluted. ¡°My lord! The general wishes to report that the enemy has moved to pressure our forces directly from below, concentrated on our center as though they intend to break through. It is the general¡¯s belief, though, that they may have also pulled some troops back from the front lines below to bolster their presence on the surface. He therefore wishes to inform the count that an attack on the city may be imminent.¡±


    Iriala rolled her eyes. They were attacking now. What was the point of this?


    ¡°We can see that.¡± Ambrose, the head of the local Adventurers¡¯ Guild called out. Bless his heart. ¡°Why don¡¯t we go fight them? I¡¯m not built for all this hiding behind walls.¡±


    Narald waved the large man to silence and gazed around the room until the murmurs of the assembly began to die down. The man had a presence of sorts, even if his talent for governance was only middling. He knew how to control a room.


    ¡°Our scouts, as well as the scryers posted here at the palace, have seen no evidence to suggest that the troops the general is referring to ever appeared here on the surface.¡±


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    Iriala frowned and began quickly casting her own scrying spells, channeled through her glasses to give her a view of the earthen ramparts outside the city. The man was right, at least at a glance. There were siege engines and a few small groups of mages cooperatively slinging powerful spells at the city, but there were no more people there than the day before. No massed ground troops, nothing to suggest that they were serious about getting into the city. Except either they or some of the demon-worshipping cultists that Radast had discovered had made it inside and were making a mess of the city already.


    ¡°Well,¡± Ambrose grumbled, looking around, his eyes finally settling on Iriala. ¡°They didn¡¯t disappear, right? Where did they go?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes.¡± Iriala sighed, drawing on the influence of her second augmentation to cast a divination spell. She needed a glimpse into the future, if she could get one. ¡°I¡¯m already on it.¡±


    "I want the City Guard to run checks at all the inner gates to intercept any other infiltrators. Other than that, Righmond, you''re to hold the walls, and watch for external threats. Report any signs of incoming assaults directly to Archmage Iriala." Narald ordered, glaring at the corpulent man to quell any signs of protest. "The guilds will support the Guard in the defense of the city in the event of an attack. My court mage will coordinate our forces and facilitate communication throughout the city. Branchmaster Ambrose will take charge in the field."


    Iriala sighed. Of course.


    ***


    Bernt tossed and turned on the hard ground, trying to find a comfortable position. There were several others in the room, but they all seemed to be fast asleep. He¡¯d even tried an earth shaping cantrip to get the ground to conform to his body more comfortably. It was still pretty uncomfortable. The growing frustration of failing to fall asleep didn¡¯t help.


    Giving up on rest, he made his way out into the corridor to hunt for an empty chamber. Several others were occupied with sleeping figures, more than there had been in the entire compound when he¡¯d first arrived. All three shifts of guards must have been brought in now, with just one shift out on patrol while the others slept. Ed had kept recruiting after their move down into the Undercity, and last that he¡¯d heard, they now had over a hundred members, though many of those were inexperienced recruits. It was an enormous change from the tiny order of disgraced mages that many people still thought of them as.


    After checking four rooms, Bernt finally found one that was probably meant to become a small office for someone in the future ¨C that or a toilet, but there was no drain or anything that looked like it would connect to the septic system.


    Focusing, Bernt raised his left hand and cast an earth shaping cantrip. The spell came much more easily now than it had a few weeks before. As Kustov had promised, he¡¯d gotten much better at using earth magic lately, even if his spells were weaker due to his unusual second investiture. Carefully, he raised a portion of the stone floor up and flattened it into a seat. He didn¡¯t bother with making a real chair ¨C he¡¯d managed it twice now, but it took hours to get it right each time. The stone block was reasonably smooth and about knee-high. It would do fine.


    Sitting down on it. Bernt concentrated on his right arm. If they were going to be fighting soon, he needed to be able to cast his banefire properly and at full strength. It manifested when he cast it through the new investiture, but it was white rather than gray. He seriously doubted that it would affect demons in the same way as the original, if it worked at all.


    He¡¯d managed to cast his torch spell correctly a few times now ¨C if he understood it right, then the exact same process should work for bypassing most of the sorcerous investiture¡¯s effects for all of his spells. It still activated the specific channels that he used, but those were left mostly as noise in the spellform. That was an inefficiency, but having the investiture also strengthened his spells in general ¨C so it should balance out. In the future, he would have to learn to route his mana precisely to take advantage of the bits of the investiture he wanted to include, but that was something for the future. Right now, he couldn¡¯t even reliably cast with this rudimentary kind of control. He needed to practice.


    ***


    Bernt watched a bolt of white fire erupt from his hand and canceled the spell before it could impact the opposite wall. Another failure. It wasn¡¯t all bad, though. He¡¯d managed three successful castings, and he thought he was starting to get a better sense for his manifested channels. Like any other part of his body, it didn¡¯t feel like a specific shape, it was just there. This wasn¡¯t about visualizing the spellform, or not just that. It was an organic thing, in a way. He needed to be able to feel and ¡°flex¡± all the various ¡°limbs¡± of the investiture, for lack of a better analogy. When he wanted to grab something, he didn¡¯t think about precisely where each finger was located on his body, or what exact shape his arm should take. He just did it. It was an entirely different approach to mana manipulation ¨C one that didn¡¯t really consider the mana involved at all.


    It was a frustrating realization, because he knew that he wouldn¡¯t be able to master his new abilities quickly. On the other hand, though, it was a relief. He was, in a sense, like a baby learning to move its arms and legs, so that it could later learn to walk, run, and jump. While it took time, it was something he could learn through sheer practice, given time and effort.


    Bernt was about to try it again when he sensed Jori approaching from down the hall. He thought she¡¯d spent most of the evening in the breakroom, though he hadn¡¯t really been paying attention. A moment later, she scampered through the doorless entrance of the room.


    ¡°Radast is here,¡± she said without preamble. ¡°The other warlocks, too.¡±


    That was odd. With the Solicitor¡¯s Office damaged, it made sense that the warlocks would look for somewhere else to hang their hats for a while, but why come down here? They were a semi-private organization, one that mostly made their gold working with other guilds, nobles and prominent individuals. They would have much more comfortable options on the surface. At least Josie would be relieved.


    ¡°What are they doing here?¡±


    To his surprise, Jori had an answer. ¡°Josie says they are here to assist the defense. The Great Mage sent him a message, and the Great One Radast sent his pacted shade to watch the enemy. They¡¯re coming!¡±


    Even as she said it, a bell started to ring with urgency.

 2.35 Contact

    Bernt stepped into the breakroom with Jori on his shoulder to find it buzzing with activity. Most of the Underkeepers¡¯ mages were there, alongside Glim, Palina and several other guards. The tables along one wall were occupied by Halfbridge¡¯s solicitors. Unlike the guilds or the Underkeepers, they didn¡¯t have a specific style of dress or identifying characteristics. That made sense, he supposed. What warlock would really want to be recognized on sight in the street?


    There were twelve of them in total, ranging from a lanky teenager, who Bernt supposed must be an apprentice, to a wild-haired old woman who looked more like a homeless person than someone that could bring the wrath of the hells down on her enemies. The kid eyed the goblins in the room nervously, as if he thought they might bite.


    Most, though, were clean-cut and dressed in the latest styles, like Josie. If he didn¡¯t know better, he would have guessed that they were minor nobles or wealthy merchants. None looked injured, which was impressive considering that most of them should have been at work when their building was brought down on top of them. Then again, Bernt had seen what kinds of healing potions Josie carried around.


    Ed pointed to a spot on the ward map representing the main access tunnel, not far from the entrance to the Undercity Market.


    ¡°...f time, but I want to make sure we¡¯re there to greet them properly. You all know what to do, I expect you to coordinate your teams as best you can. Dismissed!¡±


    Disoriented by the quick reversal, Bernt let himself be swept out of the room and into the courtyard area at the front of the complex. More guards were already massing there, roused from sleep by the bell and still tightening the straps on their armor.


    Right. Good point. Quickly, Bernt made sure that his own armored robe was fastened properly, and that his wand was secure in his sleeve. Then, he mentally nudged Jori to jump off of his shoulder so he could pull off the bag of holding he always carried with him. He dug out his thorn skin amulet, a small roll of enchanted bandages, a minor healing potion, and his dagger. The scratchy amulet went around his neck and the dagger into a loop on his belt. He stuffed the rest into his pockets.


    He stuck his hand back into the bag, hoping that maybe he might have another minor healing potion in there, when his fingers brushed across something unfamiliar. Curious, he pulled it out.


    It was a rock. Why did he have a rock?


    It wasn¡¯t until he turned it over and saw the circle of runes carved into it that he remembered what it was. He¡¯d bought this on a whim from Grixit a few months earlier and completely forgotten that he had it. The inscribed rune circle could, if activated, briefly open an unstable portal to the elemental plane of fire.


    It wasn¡¯t a very practical weapon ¨C he couldn¡¯t activate it at a distance and there was no way to avoid collateral damage unless he was in a tunnel, where he could direct the heat perfectly. Even then, he would need a bit of time to set up a temperature barrier.


    Probably too dangerous to use down here. Reluctantly, he put the stone back in the bag and then stowed it in a corner behind some cleaning supplies. No sense in getting the bag cut up or burned. Then Bernt hurried to join his assigned unit. It was, in effect, his interception team ¨C Kustov, Josie, Glim and a small contingent of guards with a few additions. Jori stayed with him, and another warlock, who introduced himself as Bartholomew joined them as well. The latter was a tall, slim man in his late twenties. He carried a rune-carved staff, marking him as at least a rudimentary sort of mage as well.


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s everybody,¡± Kustov said as a few more guards, including Nirlig and Torvald, fell into line with the others. ¡°We¡¯ve been assigned to the lower flanking position. Our job is purely offensive ¨C at least that¡¯s the idea. Ed and his team will contain the enemy and block the way up, while we cover the bottom and do our best to make sure that they don¡¯t have time to deliver whatever surprises they have planned for us. If that fails, we retreat back to the primary defensive line at the market entrance.¡±


    As they began marching out the door, Bernt got up close next to Kustov and tapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Why isn¡¯t the military back here?¡± he asked. The question had been bothering him from the moment he¡¯d heard the alarm. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t they be intercepting this?¡±


    Kustov made a noncommittal noise. ¡°We sent messages nearly half an hour ago, but they haven¡¯t responded. The head warlock fellow said they¡¯re fighting. It¡¯s up to us, this time.¡±


    ***


    The entrance to the Undercity Market, previously wide enough to easily allow two carts to pass by each other without slowing pedestrian traffic, had been fortified. It was now barely wider than a common doorway. Someone, probably Kustov, had mostly blocked the tunnel off in the last few hours, pulling the walls inward to make a funnel shape.


    Next to the main tunnel entrance, Bernt saw several narrow passages, barely wide enough for a single person. Yarrod scrambled into one of these as they passed and Bernt thought he recognized Rindle coming out of another on the other side. Kustov led their unit through, into the main tunnel and up a short distance. Keeping his eyes peeled, Bernt still nearly missed the arrow slits in the corners at the tunnel floor and ceiling.


    Putting his hand to the stone wall, Kustov stopped and cast a spell of some sort, then moved a few steps and did it again. Nodding to himself, he planted his hammer on the ground in front of him. As other Underkeepers, led by Ed and Dayle, made their way past, the stone at the dwarf¡¯s feet rose up in front of them in a section more than a foot thick. It stopped just under Kustov¡¯s shoulders, roughly at Bernt¡¯s midsection. It didn¡¯t block the tunnel completely ¨C the others would need to be able to get by ¨C but it would provide them some cover.


    ¡°Alright. I want our spears up against the wall. Keep your weapons pointed at the enemy and keep them off of the casters. Torvald, Josie, you¡¯re with me on the end here. Bernt, Jori, I want you two up against the tunnel wall. Don¡¯t wait for instructions, just burn them when they come.¡±


    In the time it took Bernt and the others to get into position, the tunnel in front of them had been transformed. Ed and Dayle had expanded the tunnel directly in front of them, widening it into a chamber of sorts to give themselves more room to work with ¨C neither of them were slouches when it came to earth magic, even if they weren¡¯t on Kustov¡¯s level.


    The dwarf hadn¡¯t stopped casting, either. Completely unfamiliar runes formed along the top of the wall in front of them, followed by a braided double line of even more runes that carved themselves into the floor in a semicircle in front of their wall. That showed where Kustov expected the enemy to break through ¨C barely three steps in front of him. Bernt knew that Silvercrag Hall ¨C Kustov¡¯s home city ¨C was famous for its rune work, but he¡¯d never really considered the combat applications of the practice. Runecarving was normally a slow process. They had to be shaped properly and spaced just right to work. Seeing this, though, the dwarf might be able to compete with some abjurers. Sure, Janus could do more and faster, but the gnome was an archmage.


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    Bernt drew his wand from his sleeve, holding it tightly in his left hand as he looked around apprehensively. With a crack, Dayle cast a spell that shattered and churned the stone floor of their killing field, kicking up dust and fouling the footing in front of them. A moment later, Kustov compounded the effect by causing shards of what looked like volcanic glass to erupt from the sundered rocks. Ed and Fiora cast force barriers to provide better defensive cover. While they could have put up a wall of their own, they opted for a simple trench instead, courtesy of Dayle. The force barriers wouldn¡¯t hold very long if they didn¡¯t maintain the spells actively ¨C the enemy must be close. He needed to focus.


    Concentrating, Bernt raised a one-way temperature barrier, first in front of Ed¡¯s unit and then another along Kustov¡¯s wall in front of them. He held the wand in his left hand, even though he suspected that the barrier would be stronger with the influence of his sorcerous investiture. The problem was that it might then also interfere with spells cast through it in both directions ¨C not the sort of thing he should experiment with in a situation like this.


    By the time he finished the spells, he could feel a soft rumble in the stone beneath his feet. A moment later, the tunnel wall simply fell in toward them, revealing massive, gleaming claws and a star-shaped nose.


    With a shriek, Jori flung a fistful of hellfire at the beast. The mole made a low, rumbling squawk and flinched back. Then the wall next to it exploded outward into the tunnel. Rocks as big as Bernt¡¯s head bounced off of Ed and Fiora¡¯s barriers and filled the tunnels with dust. He didn¡¯t wait to see what had done it. With his left hand, Bernt cast banefire and sent it into the gloom.


    At the same time, he poured unshaped mana into his right hand. Shaped into a spell by his sorcerous investiture, it naturally also incorporated the effects of his first, producing a liquid version of the perpetual flame that pooled in his palm as white fire. He flung the burning plasma as quickly as he could create it, oddly reminiscent of the way Jori cast her hellfire. To his right, he could see magic missiles flying in from Fiora. Shouts and massive sounds of impact all around came out of the gloom.


    All at once, the dust cohered into clumps and fell like rain, revealing a scene of utter mayhem.


    The massive mole lay dead, only its head emerging into the main tunnel. The breach was a wide, ragged hole, and armored grayish-skinned dwarves pressed in toward them. There were bodies on the ground, some of them crushed, while others were horribly burned.


    A hollow, inhuman shriek interrupted his casting and, for a moment, everything stopped. It was like Josie¡¯s ability, but it wasn¡¯t her. The warlock was standing next to Kustov, her hands over her ears. The other one, Bartholomew, looked just as rattled as everyone else. This had to have been an enemy warlock.


    Only then did Bernt realize that, while the sound was very unpleasant, he wasn¡¯t being overwhelmed by horrible memories. Were Kustov''s wards that good? With an overhand motion he threw more white fire into the mass of dwarves with his right hand and began to cast another fireball with his left. Just as he finished casting, Jori slung hellfire into the mass of dwarves from his right shoulder.


    Neither of their attacks landed.


    A dwarf raised a hand with a look of concentration, and both of their spells splashed against an invisible barrier and dissipated. Only then did Bernt realize he was wearing some kind of robe under his ill-fitting armor. Before Bernt even had a chance to feel frustrated, the enemy mage and those nearest to him disappeared in a small avalanche of falling rock ¨C most likely courtesy of Kustov or Dayle.


    A force shield appeared over the breach, and for a moment Bernt thought that the duergar had decided to go on the defensive. That was when he noticed the look of intense concentration on Fiora, and the fact that Ed was using his pipe to trace a lot of runes into the air.


    The tunnel shook with bone-rattling force. The dwarves on the far side of Fiora¡¯s barrier that he could see were dead, lying in crumpled heaps that bled from every orifice. That left just a small group in the tunnel with them. Bernt whooped and threw another handful of white plasma at the enemy as began to cast another fireball with his left.


    ¡°Down!¡± Bernt heard someone shout. Then something smacked him in the face.


    ***


    Bernt stared up at the tunnel ceiling, trying to remember what it was that he was supposed to be doing. It was important. Urgent, even.


    There were people shouting nearby. Fighting. They were fighting. He¡¯d been hit with something.


    His head hurt. That was bad. Head injuries were dangerous, and it was hard to tell how serious they were. He needed to take his potion. Bernt was fumbling at his belt for it when he finally realized that something was tugging at his other arm. It was Jori ¨C he could feel her concern leaking through their bond. She was worried about him.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said. ¡°Come on, we need to go help.¡± He plucked the seal off of the minor healing potion and downed it. It wouldn¡¯t do very much right away, but at least he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about bleeding into his brain.


    He wasn¡¯t the only one who¡¯d been hit. A few of the guards were down, but Josie was already checking on them. Not stopping, Bernt got back into position. The tunnel was filling with duergar again, but this time there was a massive hellhound as well. They¡¯d reached the defenders, who were engaging them directly now. Spells weren¡¯t just flying in toward the attackers anymore, either. Fire, magic missiles, and less familiar looking spell projectiles flew from both directions. Ed, by the looks of it, was stopping the bulk of the enemy attacks with multiple force shields, but he wasn¡¯t having an easy time.


    There was no telling exactly what the duergar had, but it was clear that they¡¯d brought quite a few mages of their own to complement the physical fighters and warlocks that the Underkeepers were more used to dealing with.


    Bernt focused on the hellhound and flung a bolt of banefire at it, following it up with more white fire from his right. A dwarf stepped in front of the banefire, raising a hand to cast a protective barrier in front of herself. The banefire splashed against it harmlessly, saving the demon, but the perpetual flame punched through as though it weren¡¯t there.


    The small handful of plasma struck her arm, mostly spattering onto her armor. She tried to shake it off, getting some of it onto her robes. As soon as it touched the cloth, it flared brightly, feeding on the enchantments layered into it. She shouted in surprise and tried to cast something, but it was too late. The mage went down with a scream, writhing in pain and terror. Bernt watched in horrified fascination, unable to look away as the screams cut off and she shook violently. Fire poured from her mouth as the flames consumed her from within in seconds.


    He''d ignited the mana inside her channels.


    He would need to name this spell ¨C his version of it, anyway. ¡°Perpetual flame¡± wasn¡¯t adequate for¡­ that. Shaking off the gruesome sight, he prepared another banefire spell for the hellhound. Before he could cast it, though, the demon was struck from another angle by the same spell. It went down with an agonized howl.


    Confused, Bernt looked to find the caster ¨C who had learned his spell?


    On the other side of the killing field, Dayle waggled his eyebrows at him. Really? Dayle hated pyromancy!


    But there was no time to think about it now. It was getting too hot. Even if he kept renewing the heat barriers, they wouldn¡¯t be able to keep this up for long.

 2.36 The Battle of Halfbridge 1

    Bernt was stunned by the sheer amount of magic being flung around in such a small space. Enemy mages and warlocks tried to hammer through their defenses with force, fire, and lightning, but nothing penetrated. The lightning was drawn down into Kustov¡¯s runes, the fire splashed against Bernt¡¯s heat barriers, and the force was countered directly by Ed. While the archmage held his position, the duergar troops couldn¡¯t advance, hemmed in by his magic.


    Only Bernt¡¯s perpetual flame could cut through the noise, burning through magical barriers as if they were dry tinder. It didn¡¯t go out, either. Small white fires burned on corpses all around the room, occasionally interfering with spells that passed by too closely and getting in the attackers¡® way. After taking out two more enemy mages and a few fighters who had apparently been wearing heavily enchanted armor, his and Jori¡¯s fires were beginning to take their toll. The tunnel was starting to get too hot, despite the heat barriers he¡¯d cast and recast to protect them.


    As the battle progressed, the heat circulated around the barriers and began to radiate from the walls themselves. In the end, it forced them back. Bernt extinguished his own flames reluctantly with an effort of will, but the temperature kept rising even after Bernt stopped adding to the problem to focus entirely on shielding himself and his fellow Underkeepers. The enemy warlocks threw hellfire around as if collateral damage wasn¡¯t an issue. The Duergar didn¡¯t seem to be affected ¨C maybe they had heat resistance potions or some other kind of protection from ambient heat.


    But that didn¡¯t matter now. They needed to back up. Ed¡¯s unit had been blocking the upward end of the tunnel that led toward the surface. They¡¯d been exposed to the worst of the heat, and were forced to move first. They filtered around Kustov¡¯s wall, heading down toward their defenses at the Undercity Market and leaving the way out to the surface clear. Ed, Fiora and Dayle stayed behind, covering their retreat as best they could.


    They were already backing up when the tunnel wall crumbled once again near their original position. A mole¡¯s weird snout emerged and then withdrew, replaced a moment later by an armored duergar who stepped into the tunnel, shouting something down to the combatants and lifting an odd contraption in his hands and training it on them.


    Kustov cursed and slammed his hammer down on the ground. The tunnel shook and rocks rained down from the ceiling up ahead, forcing the duergar to move and ruining his aim. The area they stood in was entirely unaffected. That seemed to surprise Kustov as much as it did Bernt, and he hesitated for a moment before shouting at the other mages. ¡°Move it! They¡¯ve got your flank!¡±


    They didn¡¯t need to be told. Moments later, they were backing down the tunnel in a fighting retreat, with Ed, Kustov and Bernt providing the rearguard. Ed maintained his powerful force shield to physically hold the enemy as well as most of their attacks back while Bernt blocked incoming fire and heat. Unlike Ed, who could move his force shield as he walked, Bernt¡¯s temperature barrier was static and he had to recast it every ten seconds or so to keep it ahead of the advancing enemy. Kustov, for his part, was constantly casting to counter whatever the enemy¡¯s geomancers were doing to get around them.


    Bernt wasn¡¯t sure how good duergar geomancers were, but Kustov was better. Every so often, a tunnel wall would start to shift, or a crack would form in the ceiling, but the dwarf was always on it before it could get any worse than that. Stone resealed, shaking quieted, and bands of runes appeared on the walls and ceiling to redirect further spells meant to reshape them. Runes carved into stone would only do the job once or twice against a skilled geomancer, but it was still impressive.


    Bernt stepped on something soft and he spared a quick glance down. There was moss growing on the stone floor. The tunnel walls were covered in thick vines that looked nearly black, with dark green, red-veined leaves. Rindle¡¯s work, Bernt guessed.


    As they continued their retreat, the attacks suddenly lessened, and then stopped entirely.


    ¡°Quickly! Get inside!¡± Someone called. It was coming from the walls ¨C one of the defensive slits.


    ¡°Back up and seal everything!¡± Someone else shouted.


    Bernt coughed. Some of the vines further up the tunnel were smoking. That was strange, He hadn¡¯t cast any fire spells.


    But no, wait. The duergar had mages and warlocks, too.


    Bernt laughed.


    Why was that so funny?


    He made it through the door, followed by Ed and then Kustov. As soon as they were through, the dwarf set the head of his hammer down, clearly casting something, though he didn¡¯t move his hands to do so. One side of the tunnel began to shift, closing the narrow gap like a gigantic stone door. A moment before the crack sealed, one of the solicitors ¨C a prim-looking man who had gone bald prematurely ¨C slung hellfire out into the tunnel with an unnecessary flourish of his wrist. A moment later, both sides met and melted together to create a smooth, unbroken surface.


    ¡°That should keep them busy for a little while.¡± He grinned and winked at Josie, who was standing nearby, catching her breath along with the rest of their unit. She nodded tiredly and didn¡¯t respond. Bernt hadn¡¯t seen her fight, but she had blood running down her arms.


    It looked too vivid. Why was it so red?


    A moment later, Bernt realized that he was sitting on the ground. That wasn¡¯t right. He looked up to ask Ed what was going on, but the archmage was looking a little green around the gills himself. Kustov cursed loudly.


    ¡°Where is that witch?¡± the dwarf grumbled. ¡°Godsdamned druids. Has anyone seen Lin? I¡¯ve got a job for her!¡±


    ***


    Bernt obediently sipped on the concoction that Lin had made for him and kept his mouth shut as Ed and Kustov got the latest update from Palina. Ed didn¡¯t seem to be affected by the smoke in the same way as him, though he didn¡¯t look like he was enjoying it, either. The archmage held a cup of the same remedy. He looked as though he might throw it back up at any moment and Bernt suspected he only drank it because Lin was sitting there watching him.


    ¡°About four hundred people have made it down from that little Crafters¡¯ District stairwell so far.¡± Palina was saying. ¡°They¡¯re being funneled into the empty portions of the neighborhoods first ¨C so far the dwarven and the crafters¡¯ quarter has managed to accommodate everyone. It''s slow going ¨C they destroyed a building next to the stairwell with some kind of artillery spell just as I was leaving. They''re digging it out now. It''s not all bad, though ¨C it''ll convince people to evacuate. We expect things to speed up in a few minutes. Last that we heard, the guilds were mobilizing to take a defensive posture at the Undercity Gate, but I doubt they''ll be able to bottle them up that easily. The Paladins¡¯ Hall is closest, and I can¡¯t imagine that they would ignore this, but It¡¯ll still be a mess. Besides, I¡¯ve seen berserkers fight before, and a lot of adventurers aren¡¯t any better. The collateral damage alone...¡±


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    ¡°How many can we take?¡± Ed asked, looking at Kustov.


    The dwarf shrugged. ¡°Space isn¡¯t really an issue. With Janus to help, we managed enough room to house maybe six thousand people. Temporarily, the space can hold three times that, enough for the entire city ¨C not that we have time to evacuate everyone. Ventilation would also be an issue. We¡¯ve got pretty good systems in place, but it¡¯s not designed to handle that many people. Still, it¡¯s nothing to worry about in the immediate term. We can take everyone who can make it down here.¡±


    Ed nodded. ¡°Good. Is there any word on what¡¯s going on with Arice? The army should have been here by now. Even if they¡¯re fighting, they can¡¯t afford to have the enemy in their rear.¡±


    Palina shook her head. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard anything. Either the dwarves broke through, or maybe they intercepted our messenger.¡±


    In the silence that followed, Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°So. What exactly was that in the tunnel? With the vines, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Rindle¡¯s idea!¡± Lin said proudly, as if he were her own son. ¡°Very clever. It is an intoxicant, use it sometimes for medicine to help pain. It has side effects.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great.¡± Bernt said, impressed. ¡°So, when the vines got burned, everyone in the tunnel was dosed, and since it slopes upward, they got the worst of it. Does it work against demons?¡±


    Lin shrugged. ¡°It is hard to say. The dark spirits are not like us.¡±


    ¡°Whatever the case, it doesn¡¯t look like they want to try knocking on our door for the time being.¡± Palina said. ¡°They¡¯re probably happy to leave us bottled up here, anyway. They¡¯re trying to get into the soft underbelly of the city before anyone can stop them, and that¡¯s not here.¡±


    Ed grimaced. ¡°Nothing to do but hope that they have their end covered up there.¡±


    ***


    Iriala watched as the Duergar poured out of the Undercity Gate. She was sitting in her office, but her glasses provided her a top-down view of the entire Crafters'' District. She could see that the defenders weren''t quite in position, yet.


    How had they made it into the city so quickly? The duergar had broken into the main access tunnel somehow, between the Undercity and the army. Doing so without prematurely tripping any wards would have required some creative tunneling, but they''d done it. Still, Ed''s people should have been able to hold them longer than this. She scried the tunnel down to the Undercity and found it filled with Duergar. There were some bodies, but most of those were Duergar ¡ª nothing like an Underkeeper rout. It looked like the Underkeepers were bottled up below, safe for the moment. What had forced them back?


    Switching back to the Crafters¡¯ District, Iriala''s eyes widened in surprise at what she found. Nearly a quarter of the district was already burning. The enemy was in the streets, setting fire to buildings and trying to penetrate the haphazard barricades the defenders were building on the fly wherever they could. For now, though, it looked like they''d managed to respond quickly enough to keep the enemy somewhat contained, thanks in no small part to her efforts in coordinating their initial deployment.


    Righmond and his guards were still on the wall, which she supposed was just as well. They needed to be wary of an external assault complicating the situation further, and she certainly didn¡¯t want him down here making a mess of her work. She had enough worries.


    As she monitored the battle, Iriala noted that the duergar¡¯s rapid advance into the city had made them vulnerable. While they were far more disciplined and better armed than the kobolds had been a few months before, the guilds were prepared and mostly ready to face them. Experienced parties of adventurers held individual streets and alleyways, backed up by paladins, berserkers, and mages. Rangers hid on rooftops, taking out enemy mages, warlocks and anyone who looked like they might be an officer.


    The duergar were taking losses, and Iriala could see that communication between the enemy units was breaking down in some cases, with some overextending themselves and paying the price. Other times, though, the duergar were hiding surprises ¨C hidden war mages, warlocks with unfamiliar abilities, alchemical weapons. They were taking losses.


    Then Iriala saw something new. It came rolling out of the Undercity Gate in a cart hauled by a hellhound of all things. The rough, unworked crystal loaded on it must have weighed as much as the cart itself. She didn¡¯t recognize what it was at first, but the nine robed figures walking alongside it were a pretty clear hint.


    She wasn¡¯t really sure why warlocks were so obsessed with that number. There were nine hells, supposedly ¨C but they could only interact with the denizens of five of them. As far as she knew, a demon of the sixth hell had only been summoned once, on the isle of Harrowick, to the sorrow of all who lived there.


    Regardless, a lot of warlock rituals required exactly nine participants.


    They unhitched the cart and took up positions in a precise circle around it before raising their hands to chant something. Iriala wasn¡¯t sure what kind of ritual this was, but it couldn¡¯t be good. Sure enough, a light ignited inside the stone just a moment later, flaring briefly, then again and again in an unpredictable rhythm. She recognized the crystal, once it was lit from within like that. It was a gigantic soulstone, collecting souls as people died ¨C probably their own as well as those of the people living here.


    Iriala gestured to one of the messengers she had lined up, even as she searched for Ambrose in the streets, adjusting the scrying spell in her glasses as quickly as someone flipping through the pages of a book. Ignoring the various other small emergencies she saw, she finally found the colossal man rescuing a team of adventurers that had gotten itself surrounded.


    They had lost their healer to a hellhound and been cut off when they tried to retreat. The duergar were closing in. An experienced adventuring party wasn¡¯t easy prey in any situation, but surrounded, the dwarves had them dead to rights. Then Ambrose entered the fray, diving headlong into the contingent that had cut the party off. The usually even-tempered man was screaming, though Iriala couldn¡¯t hear it, and spittle flew from his mouth in a froth. A heavily armored dwarf moved forward to intercept him, holding a heavily rune-engraved shield and a one-handed axe. It didn¡¯t help.


    Quicker than a snake, Ambrose ripped the shield away from the dwarf, arm still attached, and rammed its edge straight through his armor and into his chest as though it were made of paper.


    In seconds, the entire contingent was down and Ambrose was moving in on the pursuing group. It happened so quickly that it was difficult to process just what he¡¯d done. Their bodies were crushed. Blood and worse leaked out of what was left of their armor and dripped from the walls of nearby houses.


    But it was war, and the enemy had brought monsters of their own.


    Iriala turned to the messenger.


    ¡°Message to Branchmaster Ambrose on Tailors¡¯ Lane, moving toward Marin¡¯s Bakery. The enemy has a device that needs to be destroyed at the Undercity Gate, can¡¯t miss it. Tell anyone who looks important that you see on the way. Go!¡±


    Radast had warned them something like this was going to happen, but seeing it was something else. If this Nuros actually managed to become a greater demon, Besermark¡¯s tribulations were only just beginning. Iriala couldn¡¯t allow that to happen.

 37. The Battle of Halfbridge 2

    By the time Bernt felt like himself again, hundreds of evacuees were streaming through the Undercity Market, heading from the Crafter¡¯s Quarter into the entrance to a small shop on the periphery of the Market under the direction of the Underkeeper Guards. It was not a small shop, considering that Bernt had already watched at least two hundred people disappear inside.


    He didn''t know the details of what Kustov had been doing with Janus, but it was clear that they''d been preparing a place for people to evacuate to. Maybe it was just a kind of bunker, but the way he''d talked about it, he''d made it sound like he was expanding the Undercity''s capacity for permanent residents. When he and Josie had brought their concerns to Ed, the archmage had decided to take measures to better shelter the people of the city. But was that all he was doing? It made Bernt wonder just how calculating Ed was. At face value, Ed always seemed like a straightforward kind of person, but he''d been a high-ranking officer in the military before he was an Underkeeper, and he was an archmage. Was he using this as a way to angle for more influence?


    Whatever the case, they¡¯d decided to fill the older parts of the Undercity first, most likely because they were more comfortable and better developed.


    The dwarf responsible for the project was busily warding the entrance that he¡¯d sealed minutes earlier with runes even as Lin painted something different on it with a sludgy mixture that she¡¯d ground together moments before. Her script was completely unfamiliar to Bernt, made up of clusters of short lines at various lengths and angles that all branched off of a single ¡°root¡± line that ran horizontally under Kustov¡¯s runes. He watched with interest, trying to get a sense for it.


    Goblins, as far as he knew, weren¡¯t supposed to have a written language, but that was obviously what she was doing. He looked around. The warlocks, including Josie, had withdrawn into the Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters, claiming that they needed to perform some rituals of their own to prepare, in case they were drawn into a proper fight. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure exactly what they might be doing, but he supposed there would be a reason they didn¡¯t do it out here where everyone could see.


    Most of the Underkeepers were standing or sitting nearby ¨C they needed to be here in case the enemy broke through. Despite the seriousness of the larger situation, he had to smile as Jori scrambled up one of the massive pillars that held up the cavern ceiling and flung herself into the air. She spread her wings, swooping past Nirlig and a small group of goblins and flung little sparks of hellfire out to both sides to cheers and a smattering of applause.


    Wandering over to Lin and Kustov, he waited until the witch lifted her brush from the stone to dip it back into her odd writing mixture.


    ¡°Is that a type of rune script?¡± he asked her. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like anything I¡¯ve seen in a spellform.¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± Lin said with a dry laugh. ¡°This is not a ward. It is praying. Plant ink here is to make connection with a spirit ¨C a clan spirit. Old patron, you say maybe. The shamans teach them the signs and they help us, when they are willing.¡±


    Kustov, having finished with his rune warding, was studying the old goblin¡¯s markings with interest now as well. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had your own system of writing. I thought goblins didn¡¯t have books at all.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± Lin sniffed indignantly. ¡°Books are for people with tiny heads.¡± She mimed a small head on her shoulders. ¡°Writing is sacred, not for foolish children who cannot remember their songs.¡±


    Kustov looked very interested now. ¡°Really? And you can use it to direct a natural spirit? Do you think you could teach me?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said bluntly and turned back to her work. ¡°It is not for you.¡±


    ***


    Bernt¡¯s stomach was starting to growl. It hadn¡¯t been that long since they sealed the main tunnel ¨C maybe an hour or so, but he hadn¡¯t eaten anything since he¡¯d come down from the surface several hours before that. He¡¯d found a semi-private corner behind a massive pillar to practice his casting again, but he could still hear the dull roar of conversation nearby ¨C he would know if something happened. Determined to find something to eat, Bernt stood up and stretched his legs. He doubted he was going to make any more progress today, anyway. Besides, he couldn¡¯t afford to wear out his concentration too much if they were going to fight again.


    If they were lucky, the army would come knocking on their door, soon. All things considered, it was better to plan for the worst. As he rounded the pillar, though, he saw that something was happening. The trickle of evacuees had dried up, and the warlocks were back and performing some kind of ritual out where everyone could see.


    Each one carried a container of some kind, ranging from buckets to leather skins, and was using the contents to paint on the floor with brushes and rags. Bernt found Josie in the crowd of people working a short distance away and approached her. He had to pass by another warlock on the way and saw that the black liquid was oddly foamy and smelled awful.


    Josie had a large bucket ¨C probably from the Underkeepers¡¯ janitorial closet, and held a brush in one hand, with which she drew an enormous circle on the ground. She was using a string as a guide, which was pinned under Radast¡¯s foot. The head solicitor stood at the center of the large pattern directing the efforts of his people, while the remaining warlocks drew complex patterns inside the circle.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Bernt asked when he reached her. ¡°It smells disgusting.¡±


    Josie looked up and grinned wolfishly. ¡°It¡¯s demon blood. We¡¯re setting up a mass banishment ritual. If they break through here, we should be able to clear out a lot of the demons before they can get into any of the neighborhoods down here."


    Bernt stared at her uncomprehendingly. He knew that not all demons had burning blood like Jori did. Josie¡¯s midnight hag didn¡¯t seem to have any association with hellfire, and shades weren¡¯t corporeal at all. But that still left an important question ¡°Which demon did you get that much blood from?¡±


    ¡°Which do you think?¡± She laughed. ¡°If you want to banish a demon, the best way to do it is to use their own hierarchies against them. We got the blood from Varamemnon.¡±


    Bernt choked.


    ¡°You bled a greater demon in the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters? How?!¡±


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    At Bernt¡¯s outburst, a few nearby Underkeepers turned to look and he gave them a placating wave.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that,¡± Josie said defensively and lowered her voice. ¡°It was perfectly safe. Mostly. We summoned the blood directly.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®mostly¡¯?¡± Bernt asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s completely safe!¡± she corrected herself. ¡°The ritual is just a modified version of a demon summoning, but instead of the entire demon, you just bring over a bit of it and let it bleed. It¡¯s only dangerous if you summon the majority of its mass ¨C then it might regenerate the missing bits, and you get an entire demon. The bigger the demon, the safer it is to summon a good-sized chunk of it.¡±


    Bernt eyed the bucket, and then looked around at all the other containers. There had to be enough here to fill a small barrel.


    ¡°Does that mean you injured him?¡± he asked. ¡°Over in the hells, I mean. If you can just split a demon in half with a ritual from over here, why don¡¯t warlocks just do that to get rid of all the most dangerous ones?¡±


    Josie laughed. ¡°Because it doesn¡¯t work. We¡¯re not really taking away a part of them on their own plane. We¡¯re manifesting them in our reality. It¡¯s more like an exact copy, rather than their original self. Unless their consciousness came over with it, I don¡¯t think they would even notice. Besides, I''m pretty sure Varamemnon is enormous.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Bernt said, chagrined. He supposed that, if it was that easy, someone would have done it a long time ago already. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s going to work?¡±


    ¡°Solicitor Radast knows what he¡¯s doing.¡± The warlock said confidently. ¡°You don¡¯t become a Head Solicitor at a major office like ours just by luck or circumstance.¡±


    ***


    Iriala leaned out of her window and cast a magic missile, carefully modifying the spellform as she shaped it to give the projectile a much longer range. It shot off toward a streetcorner, taking the head off of a duergar officer just as he poked his head around the side of a building.


    ¡°Who do we have?¡± Iriala asked Nole, the guild¡¯s receptionist. She¡¯d sent nearly everyone to assist in the main battle. The guild forces were currently pushing the duergar advance back with brutal efficiency and the duergar were retreating back down toward the Undercity Gate ¨C unfortunately in relatively good order. They¡¯d even managed to bog down Ambrose using an entire team of enhanced fighters of some kind that she wasn¡¯t familiar with, though they hadn¡¯t managed to actually injure him yet. She wanted to think they were winning, but she suspected that the enemy had gotten what they came for.


    She¡¯d lost colleagues and friends today already, and the other guilds weren¡¯t doing any better. The duergar had a way of pulling out surprises at the worst possible moments. Ironically, the simple ones were the worst. One of their warlocks had begun lobbing fire over an inner wall into the Lower District ¨C into a neighborhood that they hadn¡¯t managed to evacuate. She had a pyromancer and a hydromancer on it, but it was already too late for hundreds of civilians and the fire wasn''t under control, yet.


    Those who remained at the guild tower were too old or too unpracticed to put in the path of demons and rampaging soldiers. It was her own godsdamned fault. She hadn¡¯t been watching the walls. That was Righmond¡¯s job. They still hadn¡¯t been breached, for that matter ¨C it was the first thing she¡¯d checked when she realized that a group of nearly fifty Duergar was rampaging inward from the western walls. A teleport spell, most likely, and a very sophisticated one to have gotten through their wards.


    ¡°There''s the two of us,¡± Nole replied as he leaned out of the window next to hers to get a better look, ¡°and perhaps one or two of the engineers.¡± He raised his wand and sent a bolt of green lightning at the advancing duergar with a crack. Seeing him appear, one of them lifted a staff, and the spell was redirected to strike it instead, shooting out of the bottom to disperse into the ground.


    Iriala cursed herself as she sent another magic missile into the street without looking and ripped a hellhound in half. This was what she got for turning her back to Righmond¡¯s incompetence! She was an archmage, yes, but she was also a diviner. While nobody in their right mind would challenge her to a duel, there was a limit to how much large-scale destruction she could wreak. Nole was an accomplished duelist, but similarly ill-suited to this kind of fight.


    ¡°I hear fighting!¡± A reedy but energetic voice said from the door. Iriala looked behind her to find Pollock standing there, his hair and robes looking mussed as if he''d just rise from a nap. ¡°Oh good, is it right out there? Why did nobody call me?¡±


    He shuffled toward them with his slow, geriatric gait.


    Something, probably a force spell, bounced off the wards so hard that it sent ripples of color along the invisible barrier that they marked. If that mage down there knew what he was doing they had maybe ten minutes before he figured out how to get through. The wards weren¡¯t really meant to keep people out so much as offensive spells. They could do it, but not forever.


    Iriala held up a hand, ¡°You¡¯re not in any condition to fight a battle, magister. You can barely walk unaided!¡±


    Pollock harrumphed indignantly in the way that only genuinely old people could. ¡°I¡¯m not a berserker, girl, I¡¯m a pyromancer. Get out of my way!¡±


    He tugged feebly at her sleeve and, after a moment¡¯s consideration, she relented. Pollock really was the right person for this situation, or he would have been twenty years ago. The man¡¯s true calling was as an academic, sure, but he was also one of the most dangerous people in this city.


    The old man poked his head out of the window.


    ¡°They have an abjurer down there,¡± Iriala filled him in. ¡°Other than that, it looks like maybe an arcanist, a few specialized fighters, fire demons and probably some warlocks. It¡¯s hard to tell them apart.¡±


    Without tracing so much as a central rune, Pollock hurled a familiar-looking grayish fireball down, followed half a second later by another. The abjurer below raised his staff again and caught one, but the other struck home, taking an unfamiliar humanoid demon with goat legs in the chest. The flames bored a hole straight through and the creature collapsed.


    ¡°Well,¡± Pollock said, leaning back into the room with a grin. ¡°Not bad! I would say the boy did alright with that spell, wouldn''t you? Still, no sense in letting them go to waste.¡±


    Drawing a gnarled looking wand from his belt, he leaned back out the window and began casting something. He took his time about it, nearly three seconds, before Iriala saw what he was doing.


    One of the hellhounds standing near the back of the group made a loud hissing sound, entirely unlike the massive dogs that the creatures resembled. Then it rose into the air, and tilted oddly on its axis as the hiss intensified into a high-pitched scream. A moment later, the creature started glowing, and then it melted into a ball of roiling flames.


    Someone shouted below, but it was too late to run. There was a sound like thunder and Iriala had to back up and raise a hand to block the light and heat that radiated up from the street.


    Nole stared at the old man, his mouth hanging wide open. He was probably trying to calculate just how much mana the old man would have had to channel to create that much heat. It was a pointless exercise ¨C Iriala already knew he¡¯d cheated.


    ¡°Everyone always forgets that a lot of these third-hell demons are practically made of fire.¡± Pollock commented to him in a lecturing tone. ¡°Good stuff, too.¡± He looked as if he was about to continue, but interrupted himself as he caught sight of something in the street. ¡°Hey! I missed one!¡±


    Iriala looked. The ruins left by the duergar bomber across the street were now well and truly gone. Heat radiated up from the street with such intensity that Iriala could feel it toasting her face three stories up. But, sure enough, the duergar abjurer was still standing there, safe on a small circular patch of unburnt ground. He certainly looked rattled, though.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about him,¡± she said. ¡°I think I¡¯d like to ask him a few questions.¡±

 2.38 The Battle of Halfbridge 3

    ¡°Incoming!¡± shouted a goblin¡¯s voice. Bernt turned to look just in time to see Rindle come running from one of the small side tunnels.


    ¡°They got the vines,¡± he called, looking dismayed. ¡°They just withered away!¡±


    ¡°Form up!¡± Glim bawled. ¡°Keep them bottled up in the tunnel if they break through. Somebody get inside and sound the alarm.¡±


    ¡°Kustov, Bernt, Josie, into the tunnels!¡± Fiora called somewhere behind Bernt. ¡°We¡¯ll slow them down as much as we can.¡± Bernt complied without a thought, running up to the tunnel that Rindle had just come out of. He slowed unconsciously for a second to allow Jori to stick the landing on his shoulder as she dove down from a pillar. Behind him, he heard more shouts as the defenders worked to get themselves into position. As he ducked into the tunnel, he could hear the bell in the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters start to ring with urgency.


    It was a narrow passage that rose at a shallow angle, barely as wide as his shoulders and he had to shuffle through sideways at an awkward angle. Fortunately, it wasn¡¯t long. In seconds, he arrived at a narrow horizontal slit, barely wide enough to slip a hand through.


    His view was partly obscured by a shriveled vine that had grown across it, but he could clearly see the column of dwarves standing below him. They looked fresh, with gleaming, polished armor and armed with identical one-handed axes and shields.


    At the front, Bernt could just make out a few dwarves carrying staves ¨C mages of some kind. It still seemed odd to Bernt that they wore the same armor as the regular soldiers. He supposed it was logical, but it still felt wrong. Mages weren¡¯t normal soldiers, so why would they dress the same? Only on closer inspection did he realize that they did wear robes ¨C they just wore a coat of mail over them along with a helm, likely to prevent easy identification as much as for direct protection.


    It didn''t take a genius to guess what what they were dealing with ¨C geomancers. The tunnel was wider in front of them, hemmed in by Kustov¡¯s rune wards, but he could see the stone cracking in front of them and crumbling away. It was slow going, relatively speaking, but they would get through in just a few minutes.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± Josie asked from behind him. Bernt turned his head and saw her squeeze in next to him. Jori chirped a greeting at her and she grinned at the demon. ¡°You might want to plug your ears for this part.¡±


    Bernt just barely managed to clamp his hands over his head as Josie put her mouth right up to the slit and screamed.


    He shuddered. Muffling the noise helped a little, and this wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d dealt with this particular ability, but it was still an uncomfortable experience. The soldiers below were affected much more strongly, though. Their formation had dissolved, and quite a few of them were sitting down while others shuddered violently.


    Before Bernt could collect himself enough to act, Jori poured hellfire into the tunnel in a wide, diffuse cone, totally unlike the liquid flames she usually produced. A moment later, the tunnel rumbled and rocks came crashing down from the ceiling ¨C Kustov¡¯s work from his position on the other side of the tunnel. It wasn¡¯t a total collapse, though. Maybe Kustov¡¯s own earlier wards were working against him, or one of the enemy geomancers had managed to counter the stoneweaver.


    Just to be sure, Bernt cast a fireball toward the geomancers at the front. It was difficult to aim through the narrow slit, but it wouldn¡¯t matter too much. The entire space was filled with enemies.


    In his haste, he used his right hand to cast the spell, but his hours of practice finally paid off. The spell manifested correctly, burning a merry yellowish orange as it shot down the tunnel. He heard screams. Below he could see more soldiers burn in Jori¡¯s flames, screaming in pain and fear as they were shocked out of their stunned state. His eyes watered as the smell of sulfur and burnt dwarf filled the air.


    A boom sounded to his left and hot wind pushed into his face from inside the tunnel. Was that Fiora?


    The tunnel rumbled, and suddenly everything went dark. He could still hear screams, but they were muffled now. It took Bernt a moment to realize what had happened. One of the enemy geomancers had realized what was happening and managed to seal their access points. Raising his left hand, Bernt cast an earth shaping cantrip. Maybe he could simply open it back up.


    The spell activated, but nothing happened when he tried to push the stone in front of them aside.


    ¡°It¡¯s dark!¡± Jori said. A stinky, whirling flame formed in the narrow tunnel right next to Bernt¡¯s head and he flinched away from it.


    ¡°Jori! Put that out, it¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± the imp said. She was proud of her light spell.


    Josie looked at the odd light curiously, but didn¡¯t comment. She¡¯d seen enough of Jori¡¯s experimental spells already.


    Bernt took a small step away from the fire and shook his head irritably, giving up. ¡°They sealed us in! We have to go back and wait for them to break through. I hope Kustov and Fiora had better luck on their end.¡± Bernt seriously doubted that they would be able to seal Kustov out, even if they could keep him from dropping the ceiling down on them.


    They emerged back out of the tunnel just as a large crack formed across the sealed entrance, bisecting a line of Kustov¡¯s runes. The guards were positioned directly in front, shielded by a powerful force barrier, courtesy of Ed, who stood just inside the warlocks¡¯ banishment ritual directly behind them. The warlocks in question mostly stood at the back ¨C not all of them would be suited to fighting ¨C but three of them were in borrowed Underkeeper armor standing in a semicircle behind the guards together with the remaining spellcasters. One of them was Bartholomew, the same warlock who¡¯d been in the tunnel with Bernt¡¯s unit.


    Radast himself stood at the center of the circle at the very back, quietly chanting something to himself.


    The stone began to crumble more quickly as Kustov¡¯s runes were destroyed, one after another. A few seconds later, the damage reached Lin¡¯s script as well and the entire wall began to crumble in toward the defenders. Hurrying behind the front line of guards, Bernt and Josie got themselves out of what was going to become a killing ground in a moment.


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    Nothing seemed to happen at first, but then a warm sensation brushed across the back of Bernt¡¯s neck so suddenly he flinched. A goblin shouted something in their own language ¨C Bernt thought it sounded like Lin ¨C and then launched into a short chant that she repeated, over and over. The other goblins joined in, and Bernt felt something stir in the air. It was mana, but it wasn¡¯t moving in any way he was familiar with. It was swirling with purpose, forming patterns that he couldn¡¯t quite make out. Many, many patterns. Ambient mana just didn¡¯t do that.


    The stone crumbled down, and then finally melted away as the enemy geomancers managed to take full control of the substance of the warded wall. The goblins¡¯ chanting reached a fever pitch and Bernt¡¯s hair suddenly stood on end as a slow wind began to swirl around the cavern, mimicking the strange mana flows he¡¯d noticed.


    Duergar started to march, pushing past their mages who were pressing themselves to the tunnel walls ¨C they didn¡¯t want to be the first ones inside. The moment the first dwarf¡¯s foot crossed the invisible line where the wall had been, the wind gusted forward all at once, flowing around the edges of Ed¡¯s shield and pouring up into the tunnel with a deafening howl.


    The effect was immediate. Duergar shouted in surprise and fear and some tried to back up, throwing their advance into chaos. As Bernt watched, the skin visible on many of their faces changed color, turning pink and erupting into boils. A few went blind, their eyes turning a sickly shade of off-white as they shouted in panic, only to be pushed down and trampled by their own panicking comrades.


    ¡°Now!¡± Ed shouted, whipping his pipe forward as he cast what looked like an oversized magic missile. It shot over the defenders¡¯ heads and through the space where the archmage¡¯s force barrier had been a moment before, into the duergar. Hellfire, magic missiles, rocks and some kind of screeching shadow magic that came from Bartholomew followed it alongside Bernt¡¯s own fireball spell.


    Ed¡¯s spell might have been enough to clear what they could see of the tunnel on its own, but apparently nobody was willing to take a chance in this situation.


    The tunnel mouth was filled with smoking gore and bits that Bernt absolutely did not want to examine too closely. Before he had a chance to look away, though, an inhuman scream echoed down toward them, followed by a sullen red light.


    Acting on instinct, Bernt raised his left hand and cast a simple heat barrier as quickly as he could, trying to cover the entire mouth of the tunnel. It was a rushed job, but he managed to activate the spell in just a few seconds, in time to catch the expanding wave of fire that tore down at them.


    Searing hot air and flames poured around the edges of the barrier, forcing some of the guards to step back and cover their faces. By the time the fire died down, the demons were on them, pouring out in a wave. Hellhounds came first, maybe ten of them, followed by a small army of imps, at least one fiend, and several kinds of demons that Bernt couldn¡¯t identify.


    They tore into the guards, scattering them just as Ed¡¯s force shield came back up. Too many had already made it through. Within just a few seconds, Bernt saw a goblin and a dwarf guard go down in a spray of hellfire. A moment later, he saw an imp land on a screaming Solicitor¡¯s face, where it proceeded to gouge at her eyes with razor claws.


    As quickly as he could, Bernt cast banefire directly into the melee. The spell wouldn¡¯t harm the guards ¨C at least no more than a bad sunburn ¨C and it might make all the difference here. On the other side, he saw Dayle follow suit and then Yarrod.


    Five of the demons went down almost immediately, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Several more guards fell, and the rest were being pushed back. The imps scrambled up the walls, just as Jori liked to do, and dove down at the defenders. As Bernt watched, one landed on Bartholomew¡¯s head and raked savagely at him with its feet. The solicitor went down messily.


    Every time a guard managed to drive a spear into a hellhound, flames erupted from the ensuing wounds, ruining weapons and forcing the guards back further.


    Jori screeched at the imps and threw herself toward them, spreading her wings and flinging fire. It took Bernt a moment to realize that she was screaming words.


    ¡°Xoryath! Maladzhoth! Back off!¡± The imp landed on one of the creatures and almost casually killed it as it tried to sneak up behind Yarrod. ¡°I can help!¡±


    Bernt wasn¡¯t sure the other imps could even really understand her. Most were smaller than Jori, and seemed to have no access to hellfire. They were mostly like she¡¯d been before the first time she had evolved. A few larger ones hissed at her, glaring, but she paid them no mind, easily dodging as they threw fire her way.


    Casting banefire one more time, Bernt backed up, trying to stay behind the guards as they retreated from the onslaught.


    ¡°Back up! Faster!¡± Someone shouted. ¡°Cover the archmage!¡± Ed was retreating slowly and maintaining his shield, which was keeping the enemy contained inside the tunnel for the moment. While the imps harassed the spellcasters on the periphery, the hellhounds drove straight down the center, trying to reach Ed.


    Backing up further, Bernt stepped inside the warlocks¡¯ banishment circle. Most of the guards were there now, trying to protect Ed and Radast, who stood at the center together.


    Growing desperate, Bernt flung white plasma at the nearest hellhound.


    The flames landed, but nothing happened ¨C the creature completely ignored it, diving at a goblin who barely managed to repel it by ramming his spear into its chest. Burning blood spurted and it hissed and backed away, but the thing didn¡¯t go down.


    How could it ignore the perpetual flame? There wasn¡¯t time to work it out, now. It was getting crowded, and the enemy was closing in. Imps flung themselves fearlessly down on the defenders from the pillars and from the backs of hellhounds as they advanced to terrifying effect even as Jori tried to single-handedly stem the tide. Curiously, none of them attacked her, even going so far as to simply let her kill them in at least one case that Bernt saw.


    Then an otherworldly voice called out in Beseri. ¡°Minions, heed the call of Varamemnon. Attend me!¡±


    Everything changed at once. Sullen purple light filled the entire cavern as the demonic blood that the warlocks had painted the floor with burst into ethereal flames. The demons hissed and screamed. Some went mad, thrashing in defiance even as others simply disappeared in puffs of purple fire that then imploded into itself, vanishing just as quickly as the demons themselves.


    Bernt let out a breath, looking for Radast in the middle of the circle. This had to be him. He didn¡¯t have a clear line of sight to the warlock, but he did see Ed. The archmage was casting something ¨C tracing runes in the air with both hands. Bernt thought later that it must have been something incredibly complex, something to turn all this around. But he never got to cast it.


    A massive imp flew down out of nowhere and landed on his arm, hissing as hellfire formed in its upraised right fist. The banishment ritual seized it almost instantly, though, and the imp disappeared in a blaze of purple. Quicker than a blink, Ed was dragged up by his arm into¡­ something. A new direction that had opened up in the purple flames for a split second. Just like that, he was gone.


    Bernt¡¯s heart seized in his chest and he looked around wildly as if expecting the old man to be standing right next to him. But he wasn¡¯t.


    There was a shout, followed by more voices calling out in an unfamiliar language. Through the dizzying whirl of images coming through his bond to Jori, he caught a glimpse of duergar soldiers streaming into the cavern from a new hole in the wall. Where was it? Bernt couldn¡¯t make sense of Jori¡¯s view, and there was nothing he could do about it right now, regardless.


    Ed was gone. They were doomed.

 2.39 The Battle of Halfbridge 4

    Bernt threw a glance back toward the main entrance. Ed¡¯s force barrier was gone and more demons flooded into the cavern, followed by rank upon rank of Duergar soldiers. Many of them carried obvious signs of disease like open sores and boils ¨C whatever Lin had done to them, it wasn¡¯t temporary. A second breach had opened nearby, and more of the gray dwarves poured out from it as well.


    ¡°Back up! Get inside!¡± Dayle shouted over the din ¨C his magically enhanced voice so loud that it echoed off the walls. All around him, people began to move. Bernt stepped back with them woodenly, still trying to process what he¡¯d just seen.


    Was Ed dead? Did the big imp manage to drag him into the hells? Was something like that even possible?


    Spells flew toward the enemy, launched by Dayle, Yarrod, and a few of the surviving warlocks, but nothing landed this time. The enemy had mages of their own, and more than a few warlocks who raised various kinds of barriers to deflect rocks, fire, force, and even shadows.


    Where was Kustov? What about Fiora? Were they still in their side-tunnel, harassing the duergar as they advanced toward them?


    Moving quickly, they backed up into the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters, where the remaining guards were already forming up into a new defensive line under Glim¡¯s direction. Most of them didn¡¯t look in any shape to fight, but more guards streamed in from behind Bernt, and he moved out of the way to let them through. Some of the warlocks worked in the back, administering healing potions, while others were armed and standing among the guards.


    Dayle ran up and down the line barking orders like a general, but he stopped when he saw Yarrrod.


    ¡°Yarrod, I need you to foul up their geomancers. Can you do that?¡± The gnome nodded calmly, though Bernt noticed that his hands shook a little.


    Dayle gave him a stern look. ¡°Don¡¯t hold back, now. If they take down this here wall, we¡¯re done!¡±


    ¡°Good sir, don¡¯t you worry your big head about it.¡± The gnome said, his genteel accent a stark counterpoint to Dayle¡¯s drawl. ¡°I have just the thing to put a burr in their shoe, so long as they don¡¯t realize it¡¯s there, it should slow them down good and proper. If I might borrow your shovel?¡±


    Dayle looked a little bemused, but then offered the little man his focus. Yarrod examined the spade for a moment before hefting it in both hands and muttering to himself as he scratched at the stone wall in a line. Yarrod, Bernt knew, specialized in modifying fortune and probability. It was an esoteric branch of magic, and one that wasn¡¯t taught at the Mages¡¯ Academy at all. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure exactly how that might help them keep the Duergar geomancers from bringing the walls down, but this wasn¡¯t the time to question the gnome. He hurried toward the double-doors ¨C maybe he could do something to slow down the attackers, at least.


    Shouts sounded from outside as the last few guards filed in, followed by the clash of arms on armor. There was an odd sucking sound and the wall on Bernt¡¯s right ¨C the one Yarrod hadn¡¯t started carving into, began to melt away right in front of them.


    Torvald appeared in the remaining half of the doorway, hauling a staggering Palina back behind him. Bernt caught the guardswoman as Torvald leapt back and out of the way of an incoming duergar soldier. Purely by reflex, Bernt flung burning white plasma into the attacker¡¯s face, who reeled back with a shriek. Nausea suddenly twisted in his guts as the stench of burned hair and flesh wafted in his face.


    ¡°Close ranks!¡± Glim barked, echoed almost simultaneously by Dayle¡¯s order. ¡°Spears down!¡±


    Half of the outer wall of the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters was virtually gone at this point, exposing them. Torvald looked back at the defenders with a terrified expression, but then his head whipped up as he stared toward something at the ceiling. Bernt looked up, but there was nothing there.


    His face suddenly firm with resolve, Torvald turned back toward the enemy and threw himself forward, ducking past a duergar soldier¡¯s spear to ram his sword into a hellhound¡¯s side. Fire erupted, but it missed him as he spun out of the way and began to single-handedly cleave his way through the first ranks of the enemy army. One of the duergar warlocks tried to throw hellfire at him, but it missed and struck one of their own instead. Torvald pushed deeper into the enemy, and the enemy shrank back.


    It wasn¡¯t skill ¨C not just that, anyway. Torvald was good, but he was just a regular person. Or, he had been. Torvald¡¯s sword was on fire, now. It had just happened, a second or so before, when he drew it out of the hellhound. At first, it just looked like hellfire, but then the flames changed color, transitioning from an angry red to a pure, bluish hue. To Jori¡¯s eyes, the entire man had started to glow ominously and she hissed in alarm and shielded her eyes.


    ¡°Retribution comes,¡± he shouted, ¡°to the wicked who would harm those sheltered in Her hand!¡±


    Was he quoting scripture? What was happening? Was this what it was supposed to look like when a brand new paladin was chosen? Torvald didn¡¯t even sound winded.


    Someone pushed past Bernt, breaking him out of his stunned state. It was Nirlig, bleeding from a nasty cut on his face. ¡°Come on, he¡¯s not going to keep that up forever!¡±


    The goblin ran forward, running his spear into the side of a dwarf who wasn¡¯t even looking their way anymore, too preoccupied by the mad spectacle that Torvald offered. Not to be outdone, Bernt followed and threw white plasma at the nearest staff-carrying mage as he wove together the spellform for banefire with his left hand. Torvald didn¡¯t have to do all the work. Behind him came another goblin, followed by Glim and then Josie with her claws out.


    The enemy mage struck at the incoming flames with his staff, but only succeeded in splattering it into a thousand liquid droplets that ignited violently along the patterns carved into his staff and armor. ¡°Don¡¯t go too far!¡± Bernt called after Nirlig. ¡°We don¡¯t want to get isolated.¡±


    All the while, Torvald continued to carve his way through the enemy in a wide loop. He hadn¡¯t stopped quoting scripture, and Bernt would have thought it was silly in any other situation. Here it seemed¡­ strangely appropriate. He should have gotten bogged down and killed immediately, running directly into the enemy army like that. But he didn¡¯t. They cringed back from him hesitantly, sensing that something was wrong even as Torvald moved through them as if following a well-practiced dance. A few enemy spellcasters threw force, fire, and stone at him, but they couldn¡¯t seem to hit him and stopped, realizing they were just injuring their own soldiers.


    Focusing on what was in front of him, Bernt cast a fire shield in front of himself to burn the oncoming soldiers as he searched for more enemy mages. If he could only find enough of them, then maybe they could turn all his around. Maybe. He found one, and a few moments later, another. Both tried to shield themselves from Bernt¡¯s attacks, and both died seconds later with white fire licking up out of their mouths and eyes.


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    Unfortunately, that got someone¡¯s attention. A rock struck his left shoulder so hard that the entire arm went numb for a moment and Bernt reflexively activated his thorn skin amulet. Was it broken? There hadn¡¯t been a pop or anything. He cursed himself ¨C he should have done that the moment this started! Determined not to make a similar mistake, he activated his spirit-infused belt as well and tried to raise a force barrier with his right hand.


    The spell failed.


    Another rock shot toward his face, but this time he saw its source. One of the soldiers, a beardless dwarf, held a hammer instead of a staff, like Kustov. He ducked, hoping that nobody behind him was tall enough to be hit by it. There was a crack as it shattered against the remains of the wall behind him. Before he could rise, though, something heavy barreled into him, bearing him to the ground. Bernt pushed back as hard as he could with one hand, forcing whatever it was up and away from him. The duergar soldier flew backward a few paces and crashed into those behind him, bowling them over.


    Seizing the advantage, Bernt pushed himself up and followed up with a handful of white flame from his right hand. The fire struck the offending dwarf directly in the face as he tried to rise, igniting his beard with natural yellow flame even as he tried to scrape the white plasma from his bubbling face with a horrified scream. Bernt couldn¡¯t see the mage anymore. Where did she go? Raising his aching left arm, Bernt hastily cast a force barrier. It was only a pale imitation of what Fiora or Ed could do, but it would stop a single rock ¨C he hoped.


    Jori, who¡¯d gone flying from his shoulder when the duergar soldier struck him, hissed angrily and threw hellfire into the crowd. That was too much for the soldiers pressing in on them, and they tried to back up. All but one. She brought the hammer down on the ground at an angle, and shards of stone shot toward him with unnatural power. Bernt flinched and raised a hand. Something struck him in the side and he felt it as Jori was hit on the side of her head, sending her spinning.


    With a panicked lunge, Bernt rammed a poorly controlled dribble of mana through the investiture in his right arm and smacked his palm down on her chestplate with no visible effect. For a moment he thought the spell failed, but then her eyes grew wide and she gasped as she began trying to tear off her armor. She didn¡¯t have enough time. An agonized wail tore its way from her throat as her face distorted with terror. Bernt looked away, disturbed.


    There was a gash in his robes, but the stone shard hadn¡¯t made it through his armor after being slowed by his force barrier. Jori was already climbing back up to his shoulder.


    It felt like it had been only a moment, but when he looked back to see how the others were doing, the battlefield had been transformed. The duergar mages were proving to be mostly ineffective, for some reason. On a hunch, Bernt glanced back behind their lines and sure enough, there was Yarrod, busily flicking a wand this way and that, tripping up enemy spells nearly as quickly as they could throw them. How long could he keep that up?


    The duergar were still pushing in, but not nearly as enthusiastically as before. The Solicitors had joined the fight in earnest now, scattered among the guards. Josie¡¯s claws inflicted an effect even more extreme than her scream, to the point that her victims¡¯ hearts gave out more often than not. Bernt had seen it kill before, but he didn¡¯t realize that other warlocks had similar methods. In fact, she was one of the less effective fighters among them, since she had to get in close and get her hands into her enemies¡¯ unarmored skin.


    Radast stood near the center and his shadow flickered out from him wrapping individual enemies in darkness and leaving behind pale corpses with wide sightless eyes and mouths agape with screams that never came..


    While the duergar warlocks seemed to favor fire and the direct support of demons that fought alongside them, the Solicitors relied on less visible, but no less potent abilities. Bernt shivered at the sight. A few had abilities like Josie¡¯s, while others incapacitated their victims as the whisperer had done up on the surface weeks before. Only one of them, the old woman, cast hellfire at her enemies. The duergar who saw pushed back and away with disturbed expressions on their faces, trying not to get too close.


    Bernt heard a shout and barely managed to cancel his fire shield in time to avoid burning Nirlig, who came stumbling sideways into the space it had been. Another balding, gray-haired goblin raced forward, pulling him back in time to keep him from getting skewered. It was Morix, Nirlig¡¯s father. The older goblin loudly scolded his son, but Bernt couldn¡¯t make out the words. The pressure was off him for a moment and his attention was drawn to Jori¡¯s senses, who had noticed something on the far end of the cavern.


    Sitting on his shoulder, the imp was head and shoulders above every dwarf in the attacking army and had a clear view across the cavern. The painful light that marked Torvald had made its way to something else that registered sharply in Jori¡¯s senses. A cart, sitting near the middle of the Undercity Market. Bernt could see it with his own eyes, and it was just a big crystal of some kind, but Jori¡¯s sight told a very different story. It glowed with unimaginable power, and Bernt knew as sure as the sun rose that drinking it in would taste like icy spring water on a hot day. To Jori, at least.


    The newly minted Paladin was clearly making for the crystal and still shouting as he did, though the words didn¡¯t carry far enough to make out over the din of battle. Several demons were clustered around it, as well as a contingent of armored duergar and a group of robed spellcasters, probably warlocks. One, dressed in ornate armor, was standing up in the cart and rested his hand on it.


    Jori could see the power shift inside the crystal, and Bernt didn¡¯t wait to find out what it would do. He wasn¡¯t sure what they meant to use it for, but it couldn¡¯t be good. Focusing as quickly as he could and doing his best to guide the mana along the right pathways in his arm, he cast a fireball with his right hand. If he could hit the enemy warlock, maybe he could solve this problem right here.


    The incandescent projectile flew true, but the dwarf didn¡¯t stay put. Instead of doing whatever he was going to do, he stood up and stepped back, neatly sidestepping Bernt¡¯s attack and exposing a robed figure behind him. The fireball struck the figure in the side and broke apart, splattering flames over several other Duergar behind. While those were also burned, only the robed figure truly caught fire ¨C the warlock had likely been wearing enchanted armor.


    Taking the time to cast a fireball came with a cost, though. He¡¯d had to take his eyes off the fight right in front of him, and now found a broad-shouldered Duergar soldier rushing him, shield first. Jori had seen him coming and flung hellfire at him, but the flames slid right off the shield¡¯s dwarven runework. Backing up a step, Bernt kicked down at the shield as hard as he could, breaking the soldier¡¯s arm and awkwardly scraping his leg against his weapon as he did. Both went stumbling in opposite directions, but Bernt caught himself quickly while his attacker crashed back into his fellows as Jori flung more fire at them. That belt was worth every copper Grixit had charged.


    Bernt looked back toward the crystal and found his target up on the cart still hadn¡¯t even realized that he was under attack. He pointed in entirely the wrong direction, shouting something, and Bernt looked. At the main entrance to the cavern, tall figures poured in, wearing black and gold and forming ranks.


    Bernt suppressed a sudden urge to laugh.


    ¡°The army is here!¡± he cried. ¡°It¡¯s Arice¡¯s people!¡±


    Others were shouting, too, and he could see the duergar line shrink back under the renewed fury of the defenders. Inspired, Bernt began quickly casting burning glue cantrips with his left hand, holding the retreating duergar back and tripping them up to be cut down by the Underkeeper guards. With his right, he kept pooling mana and flinging it into the enemy while he worked more complex spells with his left. He wasn¡¯t as effective as two mages, but he was casting two different spells at the same time. After a fashion, at least. And his mana network didn''t feel strained in the least.


    For a moment, it was going so well that Bernt forgot what Torvald was doing. Then there was a flash of light so bright it made stars dance in his vision. At the same time, a loud crack reverberated through the cavern and the light dimmed. In Jori¡¯s vision, a blazing comet flew over the enemy army and landed hard on the ground some distance away from the battle, rolling to a stop a few seconds later.


    It was Torvald.

 2.40 The Battle of Halfbridge 5

    Bernt cursed loudly. Was Torvald alive? He was still glowing ¨C that had to count for something, right?


    It wasn¡¯t just the light shed by the thousands of floral vines that grew around the cavern that had dimmed, but also that coming off of the white flames that still flickered from many of the dead. Bernt had lost count of just how many he¡¯d cast, but he could sense their mana ¨C his mana.


    To Jori¡¯s eyes, though, the cavern blazed with light. A glowing mist filled the room, spinning in a vortex around the spot where the glowing stone had been. They were on the periphery of it, but he could sense it as she drew in some of the power.


    They were souls. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands. Not the fragmentary residues that Jori had been drawing from corpses, but actual, entire souls. And they were being drawn into the Duergar leader who was now standing on the ground, next to the cart. The cart itself was missing a wheel and lay awkwardly on the ground, broken. There was no sign of the stone.


    ¡°Nuros!¡± Jori hissed as if it were a curse, unconsciously digging her claws into Bernt¡¯s shoulder.


    With a colossal boom, rubble exploded outward and down from above the Beseri soldiers, cutting a swath through the duergar lines. This was followed by a barrage of fireballs that further compounded the effect. As impressive as it looked, though, Arice¡¯s war mages couldn¡¯t end the battle then and there. While they cut a gap into their formation, most of the Duergar forces were protected by their own mages. Within moments, the tide of gray dwarves had changed direction, engaging the enemy at their rear.


    ¡°Go get ¡®em!¡± Dayle roared, punctuating the statement with a spell that sent a head-sized rock flying into the remaining forces in front of them ¨C those too close to turn their backs on the Underkeepers. The stone was deflected off of an enemy force barrier, but bounced at an oblique angle so that it still tore a soldier messily in half before exploding with a loud crack behind their lines, catching several from behind with flying bits of stone.


    The Underkeepers advanced on their demoralized foes. Bernt, though, was worried. He tried to keep an eye on the duergar general. He was actually a demon, or a dwarf possessed by a demon, or a duergar prince who¡¯d turned into the worst sort of warlock. It wasn¡¯t clear, but it also didn¡¯t matter right now. That demon was trying to make a feast for itself from the souls of Halfbridge¡¯s dead.


    Within a minute, the duergar were pushed back toward the center of the room. Despite this setback, Nuros did nothing to intervene, and neither did the group of guards and warlocks around him. The enormous dark vortex of souls just spun faster and faster, pouring down into the dwarf¡¯s mouth like water into a drain. Most of it was already gone.


    He had to try something. Bernt backed up a step and cast a banefire at the general, but he was too far away. The spell disintegrated before it reached him. Considering the problem, he sighted on Nuros once more and visualized the spellform for a fireball. Then he held out his right hand and cast it. The white fireball manifested just as it had so many times during his recent practice sessions, but this time he¡¯d meant for it to come out like this.


    The flaming missile shot toward his target, drawing eyes as it arced gracefully over the mass of soldiers. One of Nuros¡¯ guards, a stout duergar woman, saw it and raised her staff, but she was too late. The white fire struck Nuros square in his armored chest.


    The fire flared brighter, feeding on the enchantments layered over the breastplate, and the dwarf screamed with rage.


    He pulled at his armor, bending it like paper as he tore it off of his body and threw it to the ground.


    He roared so loudly that the cavern shook, and then turned toward the oncoming Beseri army. Bernt had hit his target, but he hadn¡¯t managed to burn the demon-possessed general at all. The breastplate was destroyed, but the armor had still done its job.


    Shit. Bernt cursed and raised his wand to try banefire again but was interrupted by inhuman, hollow-sounding wails and screams that echoed through the cavern. Black shadows erupted out from the demonic dwarf general in a tide, roiling through his own ranks and into the Beseri army that was pushing back his forces.


    High-pitched screams of terror and pain joined those created by the demon¡¯s spell. The noise grew louder, closer, and Bernt realized that the shadows were still moving, sweeping around through the Beseri army¡¯s ranks toward them. Bernt¡¯s mind raced, trying to think of something, anything he could do here, and his eyes fell on a flickering white flame that burned merrily just a few steps away.


    Seizing on the idea, Bernt swept his gaze along the battlefield taking in all of the fires he¡¯d made. Some were no larger than the flame of a torch, while others ¨C those that had struck mages ¨C still burned like large, white campfires. They would shrink eventually ¨C there was only so much mana around for them to burn ¨C but it would be enough for this. It had to be. It wasn¡¯t really that complicated. They were all his spells, his fire.


    Raising his pyromancer¡¯s wand in his left hand, he cast a control flame cantrip and seized the fire ¨C all of it at once. He tried to shape the flames, but it was too slow, his control wasn¡¯t good enough with this much fire. Desperately, he raised his right hand and cast another spell ¨C the widest heat barrier he could manage, nearly fifteen strides. Then he pushed the fire all in one direction, directly toward it. The flames splashed against it, finally cohering into a curved wall of nearly translucent white fire that completely covered the Underkeepers¡¯ left flank. It wasn¡¯t a proper fire shield, and it took a lot of concentration to hold so much energy in such a haphazard way, but he didn¡¯t have to wait long.


    The fiery plasma flared as the perpetual flame fed on the incoming demon lord''s spell, the glare so bright that it interrupted the fighting, forcing both the Duergar and the Underkeepers to turn away and shield their eyes.


    Jori hissed, jumping off Bernt¡¯s shoulder and scrambled up the wall behind him. She¡¯d come to the same conclusion that Bernt had ¨C someone needed to do something now, or they were going to die.


    Bernt didn¡¯t fully understand what Jori planned to do, but the impression he got from her was more than enough to alarm him. She was going to get herself killed! He considered trying to call her back, and opened his mouth to shout after her, but then closed it again. She was right. There wasn¡¯t time for anything else, and they were all going to die anyway at this rate.


    ***


    Jori scrambled across the ceiling among glowing vines, watching as a tide of black shadows burned up in Bernt¡¯s wall of white fire.


    That would show him!


    But she knew it wouldn¡¯t be enough. A demon lord could cast spells like that all day. Somebody had to do something. Torvald had the right idea, but he was still lying on the ground across the cavern, almost all the way to the tunnel that led up to the crafter¡¯s quarter. Besides, she was somebody, too, and there was a lot to work with here.


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    Inhaling deeply, Jori drew in the tasty essence that swirled through the cavern. The mist nearest to her took on a silvery sheen as she drew it in, pouring into her with a pure, icy flavor. It was almost like she couldn¡¯t even feel just how thirsty she¡¯d been until she tasted the water of life, but now that the souls were at her lips, she was ravenous.


    She drew the power in, slowly at first, but then faster and faster.


    The mist spun around, thinning a bit as she drew it in. After just a few seconds, though, her intake stopped. She felt the pressure mount inside her veins, just as she had in the dungeon, though much more clearly. There were no blockages to clear this time. No, the power running through her was just more than was meant to fit. That was fine. She wasn¡¯t totally clueless about what was happening this time, and she had her own ideas about how she wanted to grow, regardless.


    Seizing what she could of the souls around her, she pulled them into herself, trying to find that all-important breaking point.


    She wasn¡¯t like Bernt or the old fire wizard. She didn¡¯t know what the veins were supposed to look like when it was done. But that didn¡¯t matter. She wasn¡¯t a human, and she wasn¡¯t a mortal, born helpless and without even the most basic instincts. Jori knew what she was ¨C what all of her kind and those of her plane were. Some fed on the souls of the dead, while others drank the blood of other demons, and still others bathed in the burning hellfire that ran through the land in rivers. Souls, blood, and fire.


    Feeling something give inside her, Jori concentrated on what she wanted as a horrible burning sensation worming its way through her body. Soon her skin began to feel stretched and her head itched as her horns grew out and curled backward.


    Nuros was a shade ¨C an incorporeal thing. Nothing like her. He sat inside that squishy dwarf like a worm in an apple. He was a master of the soul, and he could cast some pretty scary spells, but how carefully would something like that consider its own safety?


    Jori had realized something when she¡¯d fought her first two possessed warlocks. The demons that possessed those dwarves had to sacrifice something to get direct control of their summoners like that. They hadn¡¯t brought a body. Instead, they had to share their host¡¯s. A demon from the third hell, like the one she¡¯d fought in the plaza near the Undercity gate, would naturally ensure that its host was well-equipped to fight, with fire and with regeneration to restore it when it was injured. The one from the first hell wasn¡¯t well-suited to fighting at all, though. It could incapacitate people, sure, but it was practically useless in every other regard.


    Shades didn¡¯t have real bodies, and from what Jori could tell they didn¡¯t fight physically, either. Sure, the demon was vastly more powerful than she was, and she couldn¡¯t possibly scratch it if it was here in its true form¡­ but it wasn¡¯t. Would it remember to protect its host properly? Could it, even if it wanted to?


    She was going to find out.


    ***


    Bernt felt Jori change as his wall of fire continued to absorb the demon lord¡¯s attack. She was in a lot of pain, but the mixed sense of satisfaction, thirst and determination made it clear that this was something she was doing to herself. Jori had scrambled in closer toward the center of the cavern to get better access to what remained of the souls that Nuros was consuming. The Solicitors would come for her when all this was done. If they lived that long.


    It was too bright to see with his own eyes, but he caught a glimpse as Jori opened her eyes and looked at what he¡¯d done. The screaming shadows didn¡¯t disappear instantly when they hit his awkwardly shaped wall of white flame. Instead, they boiled in the flames, catching fire and whirling in a tight circle as they burned up. It gave the wall a striking roiling effect, and he feared what might happen if he extinguished the fire before they were fully destroyed.


    As it was, though, the flames kept growing, feeding on the powerful spell and baking his skin from ten paces away. Thinking quickly, Bernt worked to raise another heat barrier on the near side of the wall of fire, trusting the Underkeepers around him to keep him safe from the duergar. It took nearly another minute before the white fire finally calmed.


    Finally daring to look, Bernt realized that the flames had reached the cavern ceiling and were busily devouring the vines that lit the underground space. At this rate, the flames wouldn¡¯t just overheat the cavern, they¡¯d wipe out their lighting as well. Instead of holding it in place any longer, Bernt drew the flames down and then pushed them outward and away from himself, bathing the massed duergar soldiers in a torrent of white fire.


    ***


    Jori shifted, changing her grip on the vines and rough stone of the cavern ceiling, and nearly fell as her foot slipped. She was heavier, and her limbs and hands had grown, making her prior grips awkward and small. She caught herself and readjusted.


    Her reactions felt smoother and more sure than before. It was as if her body just knew what to do. It felt great.


    Determined not to waste any time, she ghosted forward, doing her best to stay out of sight from below until she hung directly above general Nuros. He had stopped attacking again, resuming his work of absorbing the souls that still orbited around him in the cavern. The demon lord must have maintained his control over them even while launching his attack. Souls didn¡¯t just stay put in the world without their bodies.


    The enemy general¡¯s guards were an assortment of powerful demons, robed warlocks and duergar wearing armor that was very different from the other soldiers¡¯. Some of them were casting spells toward the cavern entrance, where Jori could see new Beseri soldiers pouring in alongside mortals who didn¡¯t wear a uniform ¨C adventurers, most likely. They were moving more cautiously than before, probably intimidated by all the dead uniformed bodies in front of them.


    Most of Nuros¡¯ guards, though, were looking toward the Underkeepers. They¡¯d seen Bernt strike their master with fire, and were on alert for further attacks. As she watched, one of them sent a bolt of shadow toward the defenders, but it changed direction partway there and struck one of their own. Just then, Bernt¡¯s wall of white fire collapsed and poured down into the duergar forces like a river of death.


    Nobody was looking up.


    Folding her wings in tightly, Jori let go of the ceiling and plummeted straight down like a stone. As she fell, she poured hellfire out in front of her, aiming as best she could for the demon lord.


    Flinging the viscous fire as hard as she could, she extended her claws and shifted her wings slightly to adjust her fall. The duergar general was spattered with hellfire a split-second before she came down directly behind him, bringing her clawed hands down on his head and shoulders.


    A claw on her right hand caught in the fabric of his cloak and tore free with a horrible wrenching sensation, and she felt a horrible popping sensation in her left leg as she landed. Her left hand glanced off his helmet with no effect at all. Jori snarled in pain and stumbled. Whatever had broken in her leg was already healing, but she couldn¡¯t move it right and nearly fell.


    A gauntleted hand caught her by one ear and hauled her up painfully. Jori stared up into empty black eyes set into an old, white-bearded face. Her hellfire had marred his helmet, but whatever enchantments were on it had protected him from the worst of the attack. There were deep burns on one shoulder, but it wasn¡¯t enough. The demon was in control, and it simply ignored the pain. Maybe it couldn¡¯t even feel it.


    ¡°Clever.¡± it said in an odd, penetrating voice that seemed to echo in her mind. ¡°But foolish. A little cockroach, nibbling at the crumbs. You should remember your place. Seek out my servant Zijeregh when I have freed you from your bond. I may have a¨C¡±


    The remaining claws of Jori¡¯s left hand sank into the skin of the possessed dwarf¡¯s unprotected chest, finally giving her what she needed ¨C a taste of the host¡¯s blood. And just like that, she could feel it, coursing through the mortal¡¯s body. More specifically, she could feel the tiny bits of the mortal¡¯s essence that it carried, the very soul residues that she¡¯d first drawn from to fuel her first metamorphosis. They carried with them the pain and discomfort that the dwarf felt, his exhaustion and the pleasure he¡¯d felt unleashing the power of an almost-greater demon on his enemies.


    It was a heady sensation, and for the first time, she recognized it for what it was, even as the dwarf¡¯s grip tightened, threatening to crush her in his unnaturally powerful grip.


    It was fuel.


    Making a fist with her left hand, she ignited it.

 2.41 Consequences

    Bernt charged into the gap he had made with a roar, followed closely by those nearest to him. He needed to get closer, to get to Jori. He felt her leg snap through their bond and shivered in sympathetic pain. As more Underkeepers rushed after him, he pushed the white flames out ahead of him, clearing the way. If he could keep control of them, he might be able to finish this on his own.


    Just as he had that thought, light flared in his peripheral vision as the fire ignited some kind of heavily enchanted armor on a Duergar corpse. Fire shot in all directions, including toward the oncoming Underkeepers. Bernt tried to seize control of it and push it out toward the enemy, but it was too much.


    A goblin screamed as a spray of fire struck her, splattering onto one of the warlocks and then more people behind them. Heart leaping into his throat, Bernt extinguished those flames with an effort of will that cost him his control over the remaining wall of flames. The fire that was burning his allies was snuffed out almost immediately, but the affected defenders were still badly burned. At least they were still moving.


    Pushing the shock and suffocating sense of horror to the back of his mind as best he could, Bernt turned back the other way and recast his control flame cantrip. He quickly shrank down the remaining blaze, drawing mana out of it and dispersing it into the ground. If he couldn¡¯t control it properly, a giant wall of fire was as much a liability as a useful weapon. Just as he did, he saw a burst of reddish-orange hellfire ahead of him and to his right. The cart was on fire, and Jori was in the middle of it. It hurt, but he could feel her triumph radiating through the bond. She was laughing.


    Through her eyes, he saw as fire consumed the duergar leader from within, completely destroying the body in seconds. Then his armor melted, collapsing to mold itself to the shrunken and twisted remains.


    The odd, misty haze vanished first. Then, all around, purple flames flared in rapid succession. Bernt whirled to search for the threat, only to realize that the demons were disappearing, one after another. He had no idea what kind of pacts duergar warlocks used, but he guessed that their permission to remain on this plane was tied to the survival of either their demon overlord or his host.


    ¡°Sit your asses down on the ground and surrender!¡± Dayle shouted, his voice amplified by magic. ¡°You¡¯re trapped down here now, sure as shit in a dwarf¡¯s beard.¡±


    The duergar soldiers didn¡¯t immediately comply, but they kept backing away, looking over their shoulders toward where their leader had been. The bulk of the duergar forces disengaged from the advancing Beseri soldiers and adventurers, who were still streaming from the cavern entrance. For a moment, everyone held their breath, uncertain.


    Jori was nowhere to be seen, but Bernt knew that she was currently clinging to the underside of the still-burning wagon. Nuros¡¯ specially armored guards were looking around in confusion, as if they weren¡¯t sure what was happening. If anything, they seemed even less certain than the regular soldiers. What was wrong with them? One of them sat down on the ground, followed by another. There was some shouting as another protested, but then the soldiers began to drop their weapons and surrender.


    It was over in minutes.


    A few of the Underkeepers sat down right where they¡¯d been standing when the fighting stopped, but Dayle quickly took charge and got everyone back on their feet. Those who hadn¡¯t fought directly checked the injured and administered healing potions, while anyone who was still in fighting shape began the work of disarming the enemy.


    They¡¯d barely started when Beseri soldiers arrived to take over. They piled the weapons off to the side and marched the duergar out of the cavern in manageable groups, often much more roughly than was strictly necessary. Bernt had no idea where they were going to take them, and he didn¡¯t care. He had people he needed to check on. As soon as he could get away with it, he borrowed a healing potion from one of the goblins treating the wounded and hurried toward the burnt cart where Jori was still hiding.


    He could guess why she hadn¡¯t come out. If the Beseri soldiers saw her, they might attack. The Underkeepers would recognize her, and maybe the adventurers would as well, but there were far more soldiers here now than anyone else.


    Signaling her through the bond, he approached to find her crawling out from under the cart. Sure enough, a nearby soldier shouted and raised a sword as soon as he saw her, but Bernt waved him down.


    ¡°Relax! She¡¯s with me.¡±


    The soldier frowned at him suspiciously, but lowered his weapon. Ignoring him, Bernt turned back to grin at Jori. She was quite a bit larger now, standing nearly up to his waist. Her wings and horns had grown longer. Despite that, she actually looked more humanoid than before. Her arms and legs seemed more in proportion to her body and she stood straighter.


    ¡°I did it!¡± Jori said proudly. ¡°I stole the demon¡¯s souls and I set his blood on fire! Wait till I tell Elyn about this ¨C she¡¯s going to write a song about me! I¡¯m going to be so famous!¡±


    Bernt smiled at her and nodded. Maybe she would. ¡°Come on. We need to see if Torvald is alright.¡±


    Carefully picking their way past the enemy soldiers, they made their way to the back of the Undercity Market, where a single human still lay sprawled face-down on the ground. Torvald¡¯s leg was bent at a horrific, unnatural angle underneath him and Bernt shuddered to think what that felt like.


    ¡°He¡¯s alive!¡± Jori said, skipping forward and turning him over onto his back with a heave. She was bigger now, but shifting that much weight was still a major effort.


    He didn¡¯t look alive. Torvald¡¯s skin was so pale that it nearly looked gray and his eyes were open, staring at nothing. One pupil was a pinprick, while the other looked normal ¨C an obvious concussion. Quickly, Bernt reached down and straightened the paladin¡¯s leg with a horrible crackling noise, then he pulled the minor healing potion from his pocket and uncorked it.


    Someone grabbed his shoulder.


    ¡°Ugh, back off with that thing. He can¡¯t swallow while he¡¯s unconscious anyway. You¡¯ll just choke him. I¡¯ll do it,¡± Josie said and knelt down next to him. She looked like something the hells themselves had spat up, her hair and face covered with blood and worse. Her heavily enchanted robes, by contrast, were not only undamaged but also spotless. Still, she hadn¡¯t come away unscathed. Two fingernails on her right hand had been torn off and blood still dripped from them onto his shoulder, soaking into his robes. Her expression, though, was as determined as ever.


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    Bernt backed up a step to let her work. The Solicitor pulled a small, rolled leather case from her pouch and opened it, pulling out a glass syringe with what seemed like an unnecessarily long needle. After filling it with some of her potion, she carefully inserted it into the shattered leg and injected it directly into his bloodstream.


    Color washed back into Torvald¡¯s face and he blinked, though he still didn¡¯t look like he was all there. His leg spasmed and he made a strangled sound.


    ¡°Hold him down!¡± Josie ordered as she moved up and held his head still. ¡°There you are. Alright, drink it down, small sips.¡±


    Before long, Josie had their young colleague sitting up, looking around in confusion. A patch of hair on the back of his skull was missing, and Bernt wondered just how bad that concussion had been.


    ¡°What were you thinking?!¡± Josie berated him. ¡°You literally ran into an enemy army. That was the dumbest thing I¡¯ve ever seen in my life!¡±


    Torvald shook his head, though even that small motion still pained him. ¡°She told me to do it. Ruzinia did. I had to.¡±


    Josie scowled. ¡°Do you commit suicide every time someone tells you to?!¡±


    The paladin grinned at her.


    ¡°It almost sounds like you were worried about me,¡± he teased, but then adopted a more sober expression. ¡°You don¡¯t say no to a god. It was¡­ intense. Besides, I wanted a calling ¨C it¡¯s why I joined the Underkeepers in the first place.¡±


    ¡°I told you!¡± Josie growled. ¡°You can¡¯t sign yourself over to a being who operates at that kind of scale. You¡¯re less than an ant to a god, and it shows. Just look at you!¡±


    As the two of them fell into a familiar argument, Bernt let out a small sigh of relief. Torvald, at least, was going to be okay. They helped him up and slowly made their way back to the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters. Only then did Torvald finally notice Jori walking alongside Bernt.


    ¡°Uh. Jori? What happened to you?¡± he looked from her to Bernt a little warily. Josie very carefully didn¡¯t look at them, but he could still see the worried frown on her face. She knew exactly what had happened, and what it meant.


    ¡°I stole some of the power that Nuros was absorbing and I destroyed his host with it.¡± Jori explained helpfully, grinning brightly. ¡°I won the battle!¡±


    ¡°I¡­ see? What does that mean? Is he dead?¡± Torvald asked, looking from Jori to Josie. The warlock shrugged.


    ¡°Not dead, no. Just gone. The duergar warlocks will summon him back, most likely. But I doubt they¡¯re going to do it here. There isn¡¯t much left of his army, and it looks like he mostly got what he came for, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Souls, you mean,¡± Bernt said, swallowing thickly. How many people had just died? ¡°How much more powerful is he going to be next time?¡±


    Josie sighed. ¡°That depends. If he had enough for his metamorphosis, he would have done it. But¡­ he might be close after that. Still, there¡¯s no guarantee he¡¯ll come back here at all. I¡¯m sure there are softer targets out there.¡±


    Bernt looked around at the destruction that filled the cavern. Hundreds of people had died here, and practically everyone he could see was injured in some way or another. Burn wounds were especially common among the duergar, and many of the corpses clustered around his earlier position were charred black ¨C his work. The stench of burnt meat and hair hung in the air.


    They made their way into the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters, where they deposited Torvald in one of the back rooms with the other convalescing guards. He¡¯d be back to normal soon thanks to Josie¡¯s expensive healing potion ¨C well before many of the others who had taken much lighter wounds. They were on their way back to the courtyard when a skinny-looking dwarf woman with a nasty bruise on her face stepped out of the break room and held up a hand to stop them.


    ¡°Dzhorianath, you have broken the bounds of your agreement with the Solicitors, Archmage Thurdred, and Archmage Iriala to remain on the mortal plane. Please step inside.¡±


    Beside him, Bernt could see Josie tense up, but Jori looked completely relaxed. The imp casually walked forward and past the warlock, disappearing into the room. Bernt made to follow, but the Solicitor took a half step forward to block his way.


    ¡°You are not required to be in attendance for this meeting. You¡¯re not party to the contract.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to help.¡± Bernt said, shoving past her none too gently. Josie followed quietly behind him, and he noticed crossly that nobody tried to keep her out. The room was filled with the surviving solicitors ¨C eight of them, including the young apprentice, who sat near the back of the room by the kitchen, watching Gnugg and Trip as they made random concoctions out of the tea ingredients on the counter. Bernt guessed they¡¯d spent the entire battle here.


    Radast stood up and nodded formally to Jori. There was a ritual circle on the ground next to him with much the same configuration as the one the Solicitors had made outside earlier, though this one was just drawn in salt.


    ¡°I appreciate your timely intervention. Without your support, it¡¯s unlikely that we would have been able to stop Nuros.¡±


    Jori grinned at him. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, but I didn¡¯t do it for you.¡±


    ¡°I am aware,¡± Radast said with a severe frown. ¡°You have advanced in power and exceeded the limits of our agreement. I¡¯m afraid this means that you will be forced to leave this plane immediately.¡±


    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t!¡± Bernt interrupted.


    Radast held a hand up to silence Bernt and kept his gaze on Jori. ¡°I fear that you may not appreciate just how far I was already bending Beseri law to allow you to remain here as you have.¡±


    Jori¡¯s grin turned a little sharper. ¡°Maybe. But you weren¡¯t doing it for me.¡±


    ¡°Be that as it may,¡± Radast said seriously. ¡°There are no further accommodations I can legally make, and no amount of heroism will convince me to defy the king. Adherence to the law is the bedrock that the Solicitors are built upon. It¡¯s not the outcome I was hoping for, but it¡¯s the one we have. If you would step over here, I can make your transition painless. You may, of course, return provided you do so under an approved pact.¡±


    That was his cue.


    Bernt cleared his throat and took a step forward.


    ¡°Fine, then let¡¯s do it! Weren¡¯t you even going to ask me first?¡±


    Radast stared at Bernt with cutting skepticism written all over his features. Josie nodded at him encouragingly, though. She¡¯d been trying to get him to do this from the first day they met. Jori, on the other hand, felt surprised and then alarmed.


    ¡°Underkeeper Bernard, as I¡¯ve previously mentioned to you, you lack the proper temperament for a warlock,¡± Radast said condescendingly. ¡°Managing an intelligent demon in the long term, even within a pact, requires force of will, cunning, and an iron dedication to the letter of the law. You have repeatedly demonstrated a lack of caution and an unacceptable flexibility in regard to both the spirit and the letter of the law.¡±


    Bernt scowled at the man. ¡°You didn¡¯t say she needed one of your warlocks, you just said she needs a pact that meets your standards. I¡¯ve seen the standards and there¡¯s no reason I couldn¡¯t make a pact like that.¡±


    Radast shook his head. ¡°I will not accept it, regardless. You¡¯d be a rogue warlock within a decade ¨C or, more likely, a week. She may make a pact with a more suitable candidate if she wishes, but in the meantime she will need to return to her home plane regardless.¡±


    ¡°She just saved practically the entire city!¡± Bernt shouted. ¡°She saved everyone!¡±


    The chief solicitor sighed, tiredly. ¡±There is no need for you to be so defensive. She will be fine.¡±


    Jori spread her wings and beat them down once, drawing everyone¡¯s attention. She wasn¡¯t grinning anymore and Bernt could feel her frustration. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the approved version of the pact too, and I¡¯m not going to be bound by the Solicitors. Or anyone! Not now, and not in the future.¡±


    Moving quickly, she stepped inside the salt circle and then lifted her gaze to look Bernt in the eye. She flashed him a quick, bright grin accompanied by a complicated mixture of determination, grief and wry amusement. ¡°Besides. I haven¡¯t saved everyone. Not yet.¡±


    She leaned down and dug the razor-sharp claws of one hand into her palm, spraying drops of burning blood down onto the salt. The circle ignited in purple flame and she disappeared in a burst of fire that seemed to collapse in on itself even as it formed.


    Over by the kitchen, Gnugg wailed in horror.


    Bernt stared uncomprehendingly at the spot where she¡¯d been.

 2.42 Emotional Response

    Bernt stormed out of the break room. Someone was following him, but he didn¡¯t care. He could still feel Jori through their bond. It hadn¡¯t broken when she disappeared, but it was different. Duller. He could only get a general sense of her emotional state, but it wasn¡¯t like when she was far away on the material plane. He didn¡¯t get any sensory information, no matter how hard he tried to focus.


    Bursting through the door to Ed¡¯s office, he rounded the archmage¡¯s desk and pulled open the drawers underneath it, one after another. He needed that Duergar demonology text. He¡¯d need to learn Duergar, or at least a similar dwarven dialect. Maybe he could get Kustov to teach him?


    The book wasn¡¯t there.


    What happened? Had he taken it home? Growling with frustration, Bernt began to rummage through the papers, as if expecting the book to just appear between the sheets. He was poking around at the back of a drawer when his hand closed around a flattened scroll. It looked oddly familiar.


    He stared at it for a few seconds before he remembered where he knew it from. It was the other scroll that he¡¯d taken from the Dragon¡¯s garbage heap. The one written in a language that not even Ed had recognized. He pocketed it. Ed certainly wouldn¡¯t be looking into it any time soon, and it was his, after all.


    ¡°Godsdamnit Bernt, what are you doing?¡± Josie asked urgently, looking around as if worried that they were about to get caught.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for my book.¡± Bernt said shortly. ¡°One that Ed was holding for me. But it¡¯s not here.¡±


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Josie said. ¡°I know you¡¯re upset, but we can bring her back! It¡¯s not forever.¡±


    Bernt glared at her, but his anger quickly melted into bitter exhaustion. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. Jori hates it there. It hurts her to even think about it or whatever happened there. She never talks about it. This is torture for her, as much as it would be for you or me. More, maybe! It doesn¡¯t matter that she came from there, this is wrong!¡±


    Josie nodded and held out her hand the way one might at a spooked animal. What did he look like? ¡±She went on her own, Bernt! Besides, Finn, the novice that was watching the kids in there, is going to be ready for his first summon in a year, maybe less! We can summon her then, and maybe she¡¯ll have changed her mind.¡±


    ¡°A year.¡± Bernt said bitterly. ¡°Besides, what about Ed? He¡¯s somewhere there, too. Are we just going to leave him there? What¡¯s going to happen?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to say. The hells aren¡¯t like our plane. The third hell is the most similar to ours, but that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s habitable. It¡¯s a vast place, just as big as our world ¨C you can¡¯t just find a person that got pulled into it. We can summon demons because of what they are. It doesn¡¯t work on normal, mortal people.¡±


    ¡°Damn it, Josie! We have to do something. I thought you and Jori were friends!¡±


    Josie¡¯s lips tightened into a line. ¡°I am doing something. I¡¯m keeping you from getting yourself killed. There¡¯s time to worry about Jori later. A class 3 demon isn¡¯t going to be in any danger from random predators on her home plane. She¡¯ll be fine. You, on the other hand, seem determined to provoke a hostile visit from Radast. His shade is probably watching us right now.¡±


    Bernt looked around, though he knew there was no way he would spot the demonic shadow if it didn¡¯t want to be seen.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he said. What else could he say if he was being spied on? ¡°Let¡¯s go help with the wounded.¡±


    ***


    The wounded, as it turned out, had already been taken care of. In most cases, a potion was all they would need to get back on their feet. Of course, that didn¡¯t mean they¡¯d be completely fine. Nirlig had lost a few fingers on his left hand and would have a scar to show just how close he¡¯d gotten to losing an eye. But he would live, as he kept reminding his father who was clucking over him like a mother hen.


    Several others had large, rippling burn scars. Those hadn¡¯t been because of the Duergar ¨C no, that had been Bernt. Guilt gnawed at his belly when he saw them. Would they get the care they needed to restore them fully?


    Twenty-seven of their guards were confirmed dead, Glim among them. Rindle, Kustov and Fiora were still missing along with several of the guards, and they¡¯d lost Ed. Bernt wondered what that even meant. There were myths of people traveling to the hells ¨C usually to rescue the soul of a loved one ¨C but he doubted those had any truth to them. The way Josie talked, it sounded like people could go there. Could he learn how?


    He banished the thought. What could he do that Ed couldn¡¯t do far better himself? Josie had been right. It wasn¡¯t something he could do right now, and the city was in shambles. They had work to do here.


    As he stepped out into the courtyard, Bernt caught sight of a small kobold trying to push through the crowd, looking fearfully over his shoulder and carrying a backpack. Recognizing Gnugg, Bernt waved and hurried over to him, pushing through the bustle of Underkeepers and soldiers.


    "Gnugg, hold on!" he called out.


    The kobold stopped and looked at him, visibly trembling. Bernt held out his hands in a calming gesture. "Easy. It''s still dangerous out there. Do you want me to take you to the orphanage?"


    "No!" Gnugg said quickly, before repeating it more slowly. "No. Not back. I sleep below tonight. I am going now. Have to go!"


    "Wait! Do you have somewhere safe to go? Where''s Trip?"


    "Yes! yes. It is safe. Trip is waiting me. Other direction. Not bad dwarves."


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Bernt shook his head. What was he doing? According to Jori, the kobold had been on corpse disposal duty in the warrens when she first met him. He''d seen worse than this. But... he''d been close to Jori. She was very attached to her "interns" and spent a lot of time with them. And he was obviously terrified.


    "Listen. We''re going to get Jori back, alright? She''s not gone forever."


    Gnugg nodded emphatically and made an odd squeaking sound. "Jori back! Yes! I am going now. Have to go!"


    "Are you sure you don''t want me to take you?" Bernt asked again.


    "No follow!" the kobold snapped and turned, scurrying off into the crowd. As he disappeared, the lid of his backpack moved, and a tiny draconian head poked out, looking at him with bright, golden eyes. Bernt blinked. Where had Gnugg found a newborn kobold hatchling? Why did he have it here?


    Shaking off his surprise, Bernt hurried after him. He wasn''t sure what he was going to do, but could he really let a child run around in a war zone with what was practically a baby? Even a kobold? He hurried out into the market, but Gnugg was gone, disappeared into the press of soldiers, Underkeepers and emerging civilians.


    ***


    Surprisingly, the cleanup effort in the Undercity progressed quickly. Local residents came out when they realized that the fighting was done, both dwarves and goblins, and helped to carry the duergar corpses to their designated disposal location. As they did, they helped themselves to what remained of their armor and weapons ¨C all of valuable dwarven make.


    Bernt half-heartedly joined in, stripping knives, pouches and smaller valuables off and depositing them in his bag, which he¡¯d found lying in the courtyard exactly where he¡¯d left it. He needed money, but right then it was hard to remember why it mattered. When he found the body of a mage or a warlock he would check for scrolls or books, but none of them were carrying anything ¨C at least nothing that wasn¡¯t burnt beyond recognition. He and Josie were hauling an Underkeeper guard¡¯s body into a cart next to the cavern entrance when a familiar voice called out from behind him.


    ¡°Glad to see you made it!¡± Bernt turned to find Kustov walking in, casting spells to reshape the ragged opening into a smooth archway and melting the rubble down into the floor, the way it had been before. ¡°We saw the end of the fight ¨C thought you might get overwhelmed there for a moment.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re okay?¡± Bernt asked, as if he wasn¡¯t quite sure of the answer. ¡°What about Fiora?¡± He¡¯d half expected to find their bodies here somewhere. As far as he knew, they¡¯d never made it out of the side tunnel where they¡¯d been harassing the incoming dwarves.


    ¡°Yes, we¡¯re fine. Fiora is at headquarters, organizing things. We heard about Ed¡­¡± he trailed off, but then shook his head and continued. ¡°When we went to leave the tunnel, the whole place was full of Duergar. So I sealed the entrance and we tunneled our way over toward the army. It took longer than it should have. I¡¯m out of practice, a little. But we got there. Arice hadn¡¯t heard that there was an army marching in behind him. He was fighting a smaller force further down in the tunnels ¨C our messenger never reached his people.¡±


    Bernt barked out a humorless laugh. The Underkeepers had been fighting an army while the military was off skirmishing with a distraction. It wasn¡¯t funny, but he couldn¡¯t hold it in. This entire thing could have been avoided if Arice¡¯s scryers, or his geomancers, or his abjurers were a little more thorough. It was stupid.


    But, then again, that probably wasn¡¯t what happened. He wasn¡¯t giving the Duergar enough credit. They¡¯d been probing at their defenses for weeks and had spies in the city for at least that long. They knew where their defensive wards were and how to get around them.


    ¡°They moved fast when they heard, but we were worried it might already be too late.¡± Kustov gave him a pat on the arm. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t have underestimated you, eh? I saw you set half the enemy army on fire!¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t that many.¡± Bernt said, trying to block the memory of the gruesome sight in his mind. ¡°Besides, you should have seen Torvald, he nearly took on the entire army by himself!¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Kutov said. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a story I need to hear.¡±


    ***


    The door was open, but Bernt didn¡¯t step inside. He leaned against the doorframe for a second and simply took it in. It was exactly as he¡¯d left it. Still, it was somehow also too dark and quiet. It wasn¡¯t just that Jori wasn¡¯t home ¨C he spent time here by himself all the time. No, it was that she wasn¡¯t going to be home. It made the place seem dead, somehow. Abandoned.


    There was a wail and shouting as, two doors down, Nirlig¡¯s mom berated Morix over what he¡¯d allowed to happen to her boy. Then, Nirlig¡¯s voice, trying to defend his father and presumably his own agency. They were one of the lucky families on this street today ¨C two Underkeepers and both had made it home.


    Bernt sighed ¨C he was being stupid. That, and he was exhausted. Stepping inside, he turned and shut the door behind him. He lit the stove with a cantrip and scavenged a bit of rat jerky from a stone jar that he usually kept for Jori. It was very spicy, and he knew he was going to regret wolfing it down on an empty stomach like this. But it was the middle of the night, and he didn¡¯t have the patience to start cooking now.


    He put on a kettle for tea and sat down on the hard stone couch he¡¯d made. Maybe some tea would help his digestion. As he worked, his eyes fell on a bottle on the table with a hand-written label that read ¡°Hellfire Gin¡±. He stared at it numbly for a minute before picking it up. He popped the cork and sniffed. Eyes watering, he grimaced and resealed the bottle. Nirlig had been right ¨C it really was disgusting. He stood up and put it up on a shelf.


    Jori could have that when she got back.


    ***


    Gegrenoth ran.


    He ducked behind an outcropping of speckled gray-black stone, the same coloring as his skin, and made his way down the scree slope into the narrow river valley. Black rain fell from the sky onto barren ground, running down in rivulets toward the burning river, where it hissed and evaporated back up into the low, yellowish clouds above.


    He¡¯d missed the dark sky, the sour rain that pattered on his skin, and the pleasant sulfurous air that filled his lungs, but he didn¡¯t have time to enjoy it. He needed to get to the river. The mortal wouldn¡¯t be able to get over the fire. It would die, like they were supposed to.


    Gegrenoth didn¡¯t know how it had followed him here. It shouldn¡¯t have been able to do it! It wasn¡¯t fair.


    Rocks clattered down behind him as the big mortal stomped down in pursuit. He sped up. Gegrenoth knew this area ¨C there was a small cliff ahead where he could get some distance.


    The imp juked left and right again as gravel erupted upward next to him. There was no cover here to hide him. Then his feet touched solid ground and he leapt, spreading his wings as he cleared the last few strides and the land gave way below him. He¡¯d done it! With the updrafts rising from the flaming river, he could glide clear to the other side of the valley from here.


    Then, an invisible hand wrapped around his entire torso, awkwardly folding his wings in against his body and yanked him back. He screamed in impotent rage and summoned fire, but his arms were pinned as well and it only dribbled uselessly down toward the valley below.


    ¡°Got you, you slippery little bastard!¡± said a gruff voice. The imp landed on the ground, face down, and invisible forces seized his arms and yanked them behind his back none too gently before turning him over. The big, gray-haired man glared at him menacingly and traced a pattern in the air with one finger. A strange, gray flame formed in the air in front of him.


    It drew the warmth out of his bones, even at this distance, and he felt the skin on his face rapidly dry out and crack under its light. He tried to shrink back away from it, but he couldn¡¯t move.


    ¡°Alright. Now that I¡¯ve finally got your attention,¡± the human said, ¡°you¡¯re going to tell me how to get out of this place, or I¡¯m going to teach you the true meaning of hell.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know! You can¡¯t!¡± he whimpered in terror. ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to be here at all!¡±


    The human¡¯s expression turned from angry to murderous. Shivering, Gegrenoth closed his eyes and waited for his true death.

 2.43 The Guild Library

    Bernt set out for the Mage¡¯s Guild as soon as he woke up the next morning. He¡¯d been scheduled to work in the evening and he was determined to make the most of the time he had. Things were going to be very busy for a while, but that was going to be true for everyone. The city was in shambles.


    Right now, though, he needed to get to the guild library. He knew he wasn¡¯t very likely to find useful information on demonology there, but it was somewhere to start. It was time that he learned how to summon demons ¨C specifically Jori. He wasn¡¯t sure why needed to know right now ¨C if he brought her back, the Solicitors would just find and deport her again. That, and they¡¯d probably kill him as a rogue summoner.


    Still, he wanted the means to do so. He didn¡¯t have to summon her here after all. He could still become an adventurer, maybe. He was considered a warlock by the Adventurers¡¯ Guild and most of the institutions who bothered to track such things, but attitudes were changing here in Halfbridge, mostly because of the work done by Jori and the Solicitors, ironically. He also had friends, assuming they¡¯d made it through the battle. If he went that route, he wouldn¡¯t have to spend more time here in the city than it took to pick up quests and turn them in.


    Or, if the fighting got to be too much, they could move cities and he could just do something else. He was a guild member now, and he wasn¡¯t that famous. Not yet, anyway. He¡¯d set a significant portion of the Duergar army on fire with a single spell last night ¨C that was going to make an impression. But how many people actually knew he¡¯d done that? They wouldn¡¯t know his name, right? They could move to Teres and start over.


    But those were all problems for later. For now, he just needed to get to the guild and see what information he could find. One step at a time.


    He stepped out into what had been the Crafters¡¯ District, stunned at the scale of the destruction. The small plaza that he should have emerged into was nowhere in evidence, lost in the heaps of rubble that once been homes and businesses. He hoped whoever lived here had been evacuated down into the Undercity ¨C there was no way anyone cowering in one of these buildings would have survived.


    Looking around at the destruction he realized that their battle down below had been far more limited in scale than the one above. Once he thought about it, the reason for that was obvious. Large scale force or fire spells were dangerous in enclosed spaces, and just as likely to kill your own troops as the enemy if they weren¡¯t perfectly shielded. He always had to be careful how much fire he threw around in a tunnel to avoid cooking himself and his allies ¨C something he¡¯d received an object lesson in last night. Force spells were even worse ¨C concussive force bottled up in a tight space could liquefy organs in a heartbeat.


    That hadn¡¯t been a problem here for either side, and the city had paid the price. The duergar had no reason to hold back, and adventurers were famous for collateral damage to the point where most cities made quest givers responsible for any damages that adventurers caused within city limits. In a situation like this, though, that wouldn¡¯t apply. At least Bernt doubted it would matter ¨C the city was, in effect, issuing their quest, after all.


    Carefully Bernt picked his way through the rubble along what he thought was probably the street toward the Lower District. He saw a few soldiers and the occasional civilian digging in the wreckage, but for now the area was relatively empty. They¡¯d already come through to clear out the bodies, but he could still smell them. There would be more under the rubble, he was sure.


    It only took a few minutes to escape the zone of total destruction around the gate, but the blackened buildings that soon rose around him weren¡¯t going to be habitable again without the aid of a geomancer to repair the cracked walls, not to mention all of the expensive conventional repairs required. Somehow, Bernt doubted that anyone would be moving back in any time soon.


    Fire had gutted the homes along the wallside street, and when he passed through the gate into the Lower District, it didn¡¯t get any better. This was the poorest part of the city, relatively near the docks, and they had gotten the worst of it. Even though most of the houses here still stood, they were far from the secondary stairwell that the Underkeepers had used to evacuate the residents of the Crafters¡¯ District. How many had made it out?


    As he continued on, moving westward toward the better-off neighborhoods and the Mages¡¯ Guild, he began to feel nervous. How much of the city had burned? A minute later, he heard the sound of hammering, and then saw a work crew loading rubble into a large, ox-drawn cart. There was noise here ¨C shouting, cursing and the clatter of rocks and lumber being moved. The number of people increased slowly with every building he passed, until it felt like he was looking at a kicked anthill. Workers and local residents dug through burnt out homes, salvaging what was left and clearing damaged beams and brick in anticipation of repairs.


    Unlike the residents of the earlier neighborhood, the people here had likely had enough warning to get clear. Still, it would take months to recover, and winter was coming on. Bernt suspected that the Undercity was about to grow considerably.


    ¡°Bernt!¡± someone called his name, and he looked up and around. It was crowded, so it took him a moment to see the man waving at him from across the street. Bernt waved back, doing his best to offer a smile.


    ¡°Cal! Glad to see you made it! Where¡¯s your cart?¡± Seeing the man, Bernt stomach suddenly growled and he remembered that he hadn¡¯t had much in the way of dinner last night. He needed to find some breakfast


    Cal grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s gone. My street corner went up in smoke, and I couldn¡¯t haul it by myself. I ended up running down to the river when it got too hot for me ¨C a lot of people did.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Bernt winced in sympathy. Cal¡¯s cart was an institution in the Lower District. His father had bought it decades ago and passed it down to him when he retired. ¡°Are you going to be alright?¡±


    ¡°Oh, sure. I¡¯ve still got my cabbages, and the sun will grow dark before this city runs out of unidentified meats.¡± He grinned. ¡°Besides, business has been good for me, and at least my house didn¡¯t burn down. I think I can handle buying a new cart.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a relief. Good to see you¡¯re doing alright, then.¡± Bernt smiled again and started to turn to go, but Cal stopped him.


    ¡°Hold on. I heard the Duergar came out of the Undercity. How is it down there?¡±


    Bernt let out a slow breath, suppressing a roiling mess of emotions and images that he wished he could unsee. A Duergar spellcaster, writhing on the ground in terror and pain as fire ate him up from inside. Bodies, pieces of bodies, in gray uniforms. Burning goblin. And the smell. A wave of nausea snuffed out his appetite and shook his head, refocusing on the question. ¡°They broke into the tunnel, the main one from the Undercity Gate. We got pushed down, but stopped them, and they came spilling out of the top. As far as I heard, the army cut them off when they tried to retreat the way they came, so they burst down into the Undercity instead. We survived, most of us. But it was bad.¡±


    Cal nodded, reading the discomfort on Bernt¡¯s face. He clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. ¡°Take care of yourself, Bernt. See you around.¡±


    ***


    The Mages¡¯ Guild looked completely undamaged, despite the state of its surroundings. Bernt knew that it was probably the most heavily warded structure in the entire city, but knowing and seeing were different things. The buildings across the street were completely gone. Stone and charred bits of wood lay scattered in the street, except near the epicenter of the blast, where the cobblestones themselves had been slagged and nothing else remained except for a small, perfect circle of undamaged stones right in front of the door.


    What had happened here?


    He stepped inside. Maybe he could ask the receptionist.


    For the first time, Bernt found the reception desk unmanned. He supposed he shouldn¡¯t have been surprised, all things considered, but he was. The stern, grumpy man and his monkey familiar were a fixture here, a familiar gate guardian to overcome.


    Ignoring the odd sense of disappointment he felt, Bernt made his way up the stairs, heading for the second floor, to the back of the massive building where the library was housed.


    Even though he¡¯d been a guild member for a while now, Bernt had never actually visited the Guild Library. He wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d expected, but it hadn¡¯t been a small wooden door with a simple plaque that simply read ¡°Library¡±.


    It had no latch.


    Bernt pushed on the door experimentally, but nothing happened. Was there a spell? He raised his left hand and traced a quick pattern on the door, casting an unlocking cantrip. It, too, did nothing.


    He thought about it for a moment, and then, feeling a little silly, reached out and knocked.


    A few seconds passed, then he heard steps approaching. The door opened, revealing a skinny, prematurely balding young man in a dusty old robe. Bernt blinked.


    ¡°Hallan?¡±


    Thrown by the unexpected meeting, Bernt didn¡¯t know what to say. He hadn¡¯t kept in touch with his friends from the academy ¨C not after joining the Underkeepers. He¡¯d always imagined that he would look them up once he was a proper adventurer and pretend like the intervening years hadn¡¯t happened. In hindsight, the idea was ridiculous. People didn¡¯t just stay where you left them. How could they? He hadn¡¯t remained the same, either.


    ¡°Bernt? What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just checking the place out. I got my guild membership recently.¡± Bernt said evasively and stepped inside. Shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls filled the enormous room. Off in one corner, Bernt could even see a section labeled ¡°tablet library¡± most likely containing pre-Madurian originals recovered from archeological sites.


    He grinned and clapped the bookish man on the shoulder. ¡°I had no idea you were working for the guild! How did you get a job at the library?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Hallan asked, looking genuinely puzzled. ¡°I speak four languages and the divination architecture I¡¯ve started on is literally specialized for librarians ¨C finding lost books, tracking down sources for specific kinds of information. That sort of thing.¡± He turned and gestured all around at the stacks. ¡°They welcomed me with open arms. I¡¯m a junior librarian. Seven years of service and all that. I¡¯ll come out as a magister qualified to work in any guild library in the country. I¡¯m thinking about moving to Teres when I¡¯m done. What happened to you?¡±


    ¡°Underkeeper.¡± Bernt said simply, gesturing down at his robes and ignoring the way Hallan¡¯s eyebrows rose in surprise. ¡°I was going to go into adventuring, but we¡¯ll see how it works out. There¡¯s been a lot going on.¡±


    ¡°I know. There was fighting right outside yesterday. I heard Magister Pollock got involved and wiped out half an army with a single spell! There aren¡¯t any spells like that, mind you. Not for magisters ¨C I checked. But that¡¯s the rumor.¡±


    ¡°Pollock?¡± Bernt tried to picture it, but he couldn¡¯t. ¡°How? He can barely walk!¡±


    Hallan shrugged. ¡°He¡¯s a wizard and a pyromancer. Based on that and the street outside, I¡¯m going to guess he used fire.¡±


    Bernt laughed. It felt good, but it didn¡¯t last. Too much had happened, and he had things to do.


    ¡°Do you have a section on demonology?¡± he asked, thinking quickly. ¡°I¡¯m trying to learn more about the Duergar warlocks and some of the things they were doing in the battle yesterday. If we have to fight them again, I want to be prepared.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we do have a section on that kind of stuff ¨C accounts of different kinds of summoners, a bestiary of interplanar beings. It¡¯s not much, but I think you¡¯ll find something. I heard a lot of them used possession pacts. Some of our historical texts mention that kind of thing, but it¡¯s illegal here. One of those ended up fighting a demon in the middle of the city a few weeks ago. Did you hear about that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Bernt said, smile turning brittle. ¡°I did.¡±

 2.44 All The Wrong Revelations

    The library, as it turned out, did have quite a bit of historical information about the various kinds of pacts that warlocks made and had made in the past. Unfortunately, none of the sources concerned themselves with summoning demons, or any detailed theory on exactly how demonic pacts were formed. Not that he was planning to need that. Still, it might have been worth reading about.


    Bernt was about to give up, re-shelving a three hundred year-old historical treatise on the crimes of late Madurian warlocks in the Mirian colonies, when a narrow book with a cracked leather cover caught his eye. It was oddly tall and stuck out a bit from the other books, revealing a bit of silver lettering on the cover.


    On a whim, Bernt pulled it out. It was bound oddly, with pages that felt too tall and narrow compared to the other books here. The full title was ¡®A Summoner¡¯s Guide to Elementals¡¯.


    Bernt blinked at it dumbly for a moment. It was a book on summoning. He hadn¡¯t noticed it before, because unlike most of the books on these shelves, it didn¡¯t have any lettering on the spine. It wasn¡¯t what he needed, but it had to be useful somehow. His education at the Academy hadn¡¯t been exhaustive regarding other planes, but he knew they were all unique. Still, there had to be some parallels to piercing the veil from one to another.


    Making a decision, he took the book back to Hallan.


    ¡°Can I check this out?¡± he asked, holding out the book for him. ¡°It¡¯s not really that relevant, but it caught my eye. Maybe I can learn to summon fire right from the source!¡±


    Hallan grinned. ¡°Go for it! Seriously, though, I wouldn¡¯t recommend actually trying it. That sounds like a great way to accidentally melt down half the city. And yourself.¡±


    The junior librarian took the book and noted down its title, the date and Bernt¡¯s name before handing it back. ¡°You can borrow it for two weeks. If you want it longer, you have to bring it back and check it out again or pay a fee.¡±


    Bernt frowned. ¡°That seems unnecessarily complicated.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not.¡± Hallan replied, shaking his head firmly. ¡°It¡¯s psychology. Mages have a way of hoarding books. If we force them to carry them back here every few weeks anyway, they¡¯ll only hold on to those they¡¯re still actively using.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Bernt nodded. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll see you in a couple of weeks then.¡±


    He started to turn, but then stopped himself.


    ¡°One more thing. Why do you shelve texts on elemental summoning in the middle of all the warlock stuff? I mean, I¡¯m not complaining, but why?¡±


    ¡°Because they¡¯re related.¡± Hallan shrugged. ¡°Separating warlocks off as a unique class of spellcaster is mostly a political decision, or a social one, maybe. Doesn¡¯t make sense to separate them in terms of their practice of ritual magic. Over in Miria, they call everyone who summons interplanar creatures a warlock, even the ones who just use elementals.¡±


    ¡°Right. I guess that makes sense.¡± Bernt nodded. It was all ritual magic, he supposed. In fact, now that he considered it, elemental summoning likely had some overlap with shamanism as well. What was an elemental, if not a natural spirit? It just came from an elemental plane, rather than this one, right?


    Considering this, Bernt thanked Hallan and excused himself, but he didn¡¯t leave the guild right away. He still had a few hours before work, and the librarian¡¯s earlier mention of Pollock had reminded him of something he¡¯d forgotten in all the turmoil of the past few days, since he¡¯d gotten his second investiture.


    Hiking up the stairs to the Wizards¡¯ Society, Bernt made his way to Pollock¡¯s office and knocked.


    ¡°In!¡± the magister¡¯s reedy voice called out and Bernt entered.


    The old man looked exactly as he always did, sitting behind his desk with an open book sitting on top of two other open books on one side and a disorganized mound of papers on the other. They were covered in partial diagrams and hurriedly scrawled notes, as if he¡¯d been trying to catch each thought and put it down on paper before it escaped. Many were crossed out, and a few scrunched up papers had been tossed clear across the room, where other, much older bits of paper were already collecting dust all around an overflowing trash bin.


    ¡°Ah, Bernt! I¡¯m glad to see all that unpleasantness yesterday didn¡¯t cost me my young protege. How¡¯s your spellcasting?¡±


    ¡°Good. Better, at least.¡± Bernt replied, stepping inside and closing the door before settling down in the chair across from the ancient wizard. ¡°I worked out how to manipulate my channels ¨C the sorcerous ones ¨C enough to mostly bypass the investiture. Or, Jori figured it out, actually. With practice, I should be able to incorporate the parts I want into my spells. I think I can confirm the account about the Tib¡¯nar Orcs, too. Watch.¡±


    Raising both hands Bernt cast a torch spell in his left while pooling mana into white flame on his right. ¡°It takes focus and intent to cast a spell normally, but since the new investiture shapes and activates the mana on its own, I can essentially cast two spells at the same time. It¡¯s just this one spell, but it saved my life a couple of times yesterday. Since the individual flames don¡¯t dissipate, they also build up on the battlefield over time. It¡­ well, it made quite a difference once I realized that I could pull them all together with a control cantrip.¡±


    Pollock stared wide-eyed at the two different flames flickering in Bernt¡¯s hands.


    ¡°Remarkable! You spent an entire battle just flinging practically unaltered perpetual flames around willy-nilly? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?¡±


    ¡°I found out. Yes.¡± Bernt suppressed a shudder as fresh and gruesome memories played before his eyes. ¡°But there wasn¡¯t much choice, and the chance of friendly fire was low.¡±


    ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t ignite anything that¡¯ll make a bigger fire than you can handle.¡± Pollock said in a heavy tone that made Bernt suspect he was speaking from experience. ¡°Sometimes, the collateral damage¡­¡± he stopped, apparently lost in a painful memory of his own. Then he blinked and he was back. ¡°Well. Just be sure you know what you¡¯re lighting on fire, alright?¡±


    Bernt nodded and let the silence settle for a moment before reaching into his bag. Pulling out his mysterious wizard¡¯s journal he set it down on the table.


    ¡°You said that, when we fixed my spiritual injury, you were going to tell me what the author of this thing was trying to do.¡± He held up his right hand as if to demonstrate. His sleeve fell down, and the glowing patterns of the perpetual flame¡¯s spellform cast a soft glow out from under his skin. ¡°I spent an entire battle casting one spell after another, and I don¡¯t feel a thing. It¡¯s fixed. So, what was the old archwizard up to?¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Pollock watched him thoughtfully for a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t know that we¡¯ve really solved your problem. As you just said, you¡¯re still working on adjusting to your new situation. We barely even know what it is. Don¡¯t you think your attention is best focused on that for the time being?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± Bernt said. ¡°But maybe not. You seemed pretty excited about it at the time. I¡¯m trying to decide what I can do now, sure, but I need to know how to move forward, too. And, well, I¡¯ve been thinking. If I can cast two spells at the same time, then the diagrams in the book don¡¯t seem quite as impossible anymore. Don¡¯t get me wrong. I can¡¯t cast these spellforms here, but¡­ well, I can do something. If I learn more about what this archwizard was thinking, I might learn something about where I could take this.¡±


    Magister Pollock pursed his lips for a moment, then grimaced and grabbed the book. ¡°Oh, alright. But only because you¡¯re dead right! I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be able to do it so quickly, or that it would be so simple to do.¡± He flipped the book open and began to leaf through it. ¡°Here, at the back, he discusses his ¡®soul shaping¡¯. That¡¯s an archaic way to talk about mana architectures.¡±


    Bernt sat up straighter. That did sound interesting. ¡°He wrote down his architecture? How did I miss that? What investitures did he use?¡±


    ¡°No, no. Nothing so specific. It¡¯s not important. Information about specific novel investitures can be fun, but they¡¯re not that interesting for a wizard. What you want to look out for are the ideas behind them. The why. That¡¯s what this section here is about.¡± Pollock pointed at a page containing three short paragraphs. There were no reference diagrams in this part of the journal, and Bernt couldn¡¯t remember if he¡¯d tried to decipher it himself. ¡°He tried to develop an augmentation to help him disintegrate normal matter into its constituent elements, and another one for what he calls ¡®reintegration¡¯. Do you see what he was doing?¡±


    Bernt nodded. ¡°Sure. He was going to try to create two separate augmentations in hopes that he could work out a way to combine them to cast a single spell to transmute matter. That, or maybe he decided that he could cast them sequentially. If he could do that, he would just have to tweak the spellform for the reintegration augmentation a bit to change the output.¡±


    ¡°Almost.¡± Pollock said. ¡°And I doubt it would work sequentially. Spells to reconfigure more basic forms of matter into more complex forms isn¡¯t new, and there¡¯s a reason we don¡¯t generally use it. It takes too much energy, and you have to know precisely what elements you¡¯re dealing with. Very clunky, and not very useful.¡±


    He flipped excitedly back toward the front of the book and showed him one of the diagrams. ¡°The way the shells are formed in these diagrams suggest that the reintegration part of the spell is supposed to draw on the energy released by the disintegration process in a pattern describing the original material. So, in a way, the first part of the spell gives the second part instructions on exactly what it¡¯s reintegrating, and supplies the energy to do so in the process. It¡¯s genius!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Bernt said. ¡°Maybe if it worked¡­¡±


    Pollock tapped the side of his nose. ¡°Ah, but I think it did! Think about it! He didn¡¯t need the augmentation to do all the work ¨C just one of the spells. Most likely, he could have manually cast his disintegration spell through the reintegration augmentation. The resulting spellform would likely require a lot of adjustment before it would work, but I don¡¯t see why it shouldn¡¯t be possible.


    ¡°So, you think he already could transmute materials, but it would have been excruciatingly slow to cast.¡±


    ¡°Right, and that¡¯s what this third augmentation was supposed to be for. He thought that if he could get a complementary third augmentation, it and the previous two might fuse into¡­ well, some kind of super-augmentation, the same way that investitures synergize once they fuse into an augmentation. We don¡¯t have a word for that, because no one¡¯s ever succeeded, so far as we know.¡±


    Bernt sat back, trying to let the implications sink in. Three augmentations. He had the notes of someone who¡¯d actually tried it. Not that there was much to go on. It sounded like the author had mainly attempted it to try to gloss over the problems with his initial architecture. But that brought up another question.


    ¡°Why couldn¡¯t he use both augmentations in a single spell to begin with?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°I mean, I know that you can¡¯t ¨C the lecturers at the academy were clear about that ¨C but it¡¯s not something they went in-depth about, since the fewest people actually attempt more than one. It¡¯s not as though they¡¯re not already connected within the same mana network. What¡¯s actually stopping him from using both?


    ¡°Ah.¡± Pollock frowned severely. ¡°I¡¯m surprised standards have slipped so much at the Academy, then. As I mentioned before, the why of an issue is often far more important than simple information without context.¡±


    Bernt made a vague noise of agreement, trying not to seem impatient.


    ¡°You can apply any part of or all of your spirit to the casting of any single spell.¡± Pollock went on, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. ¡°Or rather, a typical mage can. We¡¯ve already learned that your sorcerous investiture doesn¡¯t work this way. Excluding any part of your mana network when casting requires incredible control of your internal mana flow. Developing that normally takes years of dedicated practice, and it¡¯s something few non-archmages bother to master. As you know, each investiture built into your mana network will attempt to weave itself into the spell you are casting. Your two investitures are highly compatible, so it¡¯s not an issue for you, but if they were too incompatible, they would scramble your spellforms to the point that they would be nearly impossible to cast. It¡¯s one of the most common pitfalls for wizards attempting to develop their own augmentations ¨C few institutions will invest in a mage who won¡¯t be able to cast spells for years, much less a wizard whose future capabilities are completely unknown.¡±


    Bernt winced. He understood the issue of incompatible investitures, of course ¨C but he hadn¡¯t really considered what it meant for wizards. Unlike mages, they were often taking shots into the dark with their investitures. If the second investiture didn¡¯t work as planned, odds were that they needed to take time to analyze the result and rethink their future development as well.


    ¡°Traditional mages don¡¯t generally have this problem, they¡¯ll know what¡¯s coming, so they can gather the material they need for their third investiture and finish the augmentation as quickly as possible. Once the investitures are fused, they function as a whole. Whenever you cast a spell, the augmentation will greatly modify and augment the spellform in a way that expresses all the constituent investitures to their fullest compatible extent.¡±


    Bernt nodded, understanding where Pollock was going. ¡°You¡¯re saying that, if this archwizard tried to use both augmentations, the resulting spellform would be too scrambled to make sense of.¡±


    The wizard nodded emphatically. ¡°That¡¯s right. The augmentations don''t naturally synergize. It would be an enormous mess ¨C orders of magnitude more complex than incompatible investitures. Practically impossible to make sense of, much less to adjust into a usable form.¡±


    ¡°Alright, but how do we know he didn¡¯t succeed with the third investiture? What if he died before he could tell anyone, or if he just wanted to keep it a secret?¡±


    Pollock shrugged. ¡°Because of where you found the notebook. My guess is that he tried to barter his knowledge for some kind of support from the elder dragon. A near-immortal like that, who has spent untold millennia collecting secrets and magical knowledge would be the perfect source of information for this kind of thing. The dragon probably just wasn¡¯t very impressed with his work.¡± Pollock looked down at the book for a moment before flipping it closed and setting it down on the table. ¡°Or maybe none of this was news to him. Who knows what kinds of secrets an elder dragon might be hoarding, after all?¡±


    Bernt frowned, thinking for a moment as he picked it up and stowed it back in his bag. Could any of this help him? For that matter, what would happen when he attempted his next investiture. Would it even be able to fuse into an augmentation? What was going to happen?


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much about the dead archwizard or his project.¡± Pollock said, correctly interpreting Bernt¡¯s expression. ¡°You still have a lot of work to do understanding where you are now. You should spend the time to find your footing properly before you try to forge ahead. The notebook is fascinating, certainly, but you shouldn¡¯t let that distract you from yourself and what you want to do.¡±


    Bernt nodded. Pollock had been right. It was fascinating, but for now, it was just a distraction.

 2.45 Warlock Propaganda

    Frustration roiled in Bernt''s stomach as he made his way out of the building. The library hadn¡¯t been entirely a dead end, but it wasn¡¯t going to help him get Jori back any time soon. He¡¯d been hoping that he might stumble across something, anything that could help right now. As he had that thought, though, Bernt realized just how ridiculous it sounded. He wasn¡¯t acting rationally, here ¨C he was grasping at straws.


    This wasn¡¯t helping. He needed to start thinking things through. Ed was gone, and so was Jori. Maybe he could eventually learn how to summon her without immediately being found out, but it wouldn¡¯t be soon, or here. The Solicitors were going to watch him closely as long as he was in the city, he was certain. And there was nothing he could do about Ed. Maybe nothing anyone could do. But at least he wouldn¡¯t be the only one interested in finding a solution.


    He took the other way back toward the Undercity Gate, cutting through the Temple District to avoid most of the destruction. While the buildings here still stood, the place was practically deserted. Most of the people who worked here would be tending the wounded for days yet ¨C burns were difficult to heal properly, even for clerics.


    His moment of clarity earlier felt as though it had kicked something loose in his mind, allowing him to finally step back and look at the situation more objectively ¨C if only a little. And as he considered what had happened more carefully, he kept coming back to a few specific details.


    Jori hadn¡¯t waited to be deported. She¡¯d gone back herself, despite the fact that she hated the hells. He¡¯d felt her determination as well as her reluctance, even as she did it. Besides that, there were her words to consider, both as she left, and in the hours and days before. She¡¯d gone back to save someone. Someones, rather. Bernt recalled the strange comments she¡¯d made, and her refusal to talk about it when he asked. The pain she felt when she thought about home. And then yesterday, how she¡¯d called out to the enemy imps by name. She¡¯d gone to save them, somehow, Bernt was certain.


    Them, and Ed. Hopefully. Jori liked and respected the old man, and she¡¯d seen what happened to him just as well as Bernt had.


    But did that change what he was going to do?


    Not much, Bernt decided. He needed to slow down, that was true, but it wasn¡¯t illegal to learn summoning rituals, provided he could find the information. He could decide whether and how to use it later. If nothing else, it would provide him with new options. The most obvious person to ask about it was Josie, but he doubted she would help. She was happy to see Jori under the Solicitors¡¯ thumb, and thought that if they simply waited long enough, the imp would agree to a pact with one of them.


    Bernt knew better, though ¨C he¡¯d felt Jori¡¯s reaction when he¡¯d offered to pact her. Then a woman¡¯s voice interrupted his train of thought.


    ¡°That¡¯s right! I heard the goddess blessed her and she tore right through the Duergar army to drag their evil prince straight down to the hells to punish his transgressions.¡± Bernt perked up, looking left and right. That voice sounded familiar. ¡°Can you imagine it? A demon with Ruzinia¡¯s own favor! A goddess for desperate times, that is.¡±


    When Bernt found the speaker, he frowned in confusion. She was an old woman wearing a worn off-white robe with her gray hair tied back. She was gossiping to a young man selling sticky buns on the corner. Her face looked so familiar, but he couldn¡¯t place her. The ludicrous nature of the gossip didn¡¯t provide any clues, either.


    He shook his head and continued on, stepping through the gate on the far end of the District into the ravaged Crafter¡¯s District. Only then did it click. The old woman was a Solicitor ¨C her hair had hung in a ragged bush around her head yesterday, but it was her. She¡¯d been there last night, at the battle.


    The Solicitors were spreading rumors about what had happened last night, trying to twist the narrative to their advantage. And they were trying to make it sound like Jori¡¯s disappearance had to do with her defeat of Nuros, not the Solicitors¡¯ ultimatum.


    Moreover, they were trying to give her credit for Torvald¡¯s contribution to the battle to make her out as some kind of holy figure. Why not? It wasn¡¯t as though anyone could prove differently, now that she was gone. Nobody in the Temple District would believe it, of course, but it made for a great story. Bernt had no doubt that the rumor mill would cement Jori¡¯s supposed canonization into the local lore for generations to come.


    Ice cold anger condensed in the pit of Bernt¡¯s stomach. Radast was trying to profit from Jori after sending her back to the hells, and it was going to work. He could see through it now ¨C what they¡¯d been doing. There was no way they could have planned it this perfectly, but they¡¯d set themselves up to be able to capitalize on anything she did. Radast was probably delighted at how it had all turned out.


    The Solicitors had insisted that the Underkeepers and the Mages¡¯ Guild take responsibility for her, but they had worked hard to maintain Jori¡¯s association with them in the mind of the public. Josie had seen to that. Now, they were going to burnish Jori¡¯s image to a shine using a combination of half-truths and outright fabrication and leverage it for all it was worth.


    And everyone was going to let it happen. Why wouldn¡¯t they? The Solicitors were Ed and Iriala¡¯s allies. This was going to strengthen their political position in the city. Worse, with Ed gone for the foreseeable future, the Underkeepers didn¡¯t have an archmage anymore ¨C they would need all the support they could get.


    Bernt ground his teeth. He couldn¡¯t believe that he hadn¡¯t seen it. They¡¯d set her up as a pawn, to be disposed of as soon as she became inconvenient. It was so obvious in hindsight ¨C they hadn¡¯t even tried to hide it. No, he was the fool here. He¡¯d imagined that, because of Jori¡¯s growing reputation and the way she¡¯d befriended Josie, the Solicitors might have started to see her a little differently. That they¡¯d find a way to work something out, if he was willing to make a compromise. But of course they hadn¡¯t. He¡¯d been naive and allowed his own wishful thinking to get the better of him.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    It was exactly the sort of thing he should have expected from Solicitors.


    ***


    ¡°I don¡¯t care if it was an accident or who was doing what at whatever time.¡± Iriala said sternly, staring at the Chief Solicitor over the rims of her glasses. ¡°I am here to find solutions, and you are going to help me. If you choose not to cooperate, I will assume foul play and take appropriate measures on my own. Do I make myself clear?¡±


    The younger man maintained his composure admirably, but she could see the sheen of sweat at the base of his neck. He was nervous, and it was making him act foolishly. Why would she want to hear his version of events if she suspected him of trying to purposely dispose of Ed? Besides, she saw what happened with her own eyes and knew it hadn¡¯t been on purpose. Only an idiot betrayed an ally while they were being overrun.


    Of course, that wasn¡¯t to say she wouldn¡¯t personally destroy this man if he didn¡¯t apply himself to finding a satisfactory solution.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need for threats.¡± Radast responded smoothly. ¡°Of course we will provide whatever information and assistance that we can. Our relationship with both Archmage Thurdred and yourself have been nothing but advantageous, and doing anything less would be nothing short of self-sabotage. Besides, mutual aid is a clause in our contract.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Iriala said shortly. ¡°Then, what do you have?¡±


    Radast reached into a hidden pocket in his robes and drew out a scroll, which he unrolled on Iriala¡¯s desk. ¡°While our maps of the third hell are incomplete, it¡¯s still by far the best-understood of the hells. This map based on the reports of summoned demons, and includes major landmarks, rivers, and cities.


    Iriala frowned. ¡°Demons have cities?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Spawnlings behave much like animals, like some of the less-intelligent types of demons, but most kinds of demons eventually assimilate into a sort of civilization they have. Their hierarchical nature lends itself well to these kinds of efforts. Each major city is ruled by a greater demon, who might subjugate other powerful demons and their cities in turn to create a kind of empire. Nuros doesn¡¯t rule any city that I¡¯m aware of, but Varamemnon does.¡± Radast pointed to a dot on the map labeled in demonic runes, which Iriala couldn¡¯t read. ¡°He¡¯s a class 9 demon and his city sits at the wellspring of this river, here. Nuros and his servants were most likely summoned from within his territory, so that¡¯s where the archmage will have been pulled when they were banished.¡±


    Iriala grunted noncommittally. This was a godsdamned disaster. Who had ever heard of someone getting bodily dragged into the hells? If she hadn¡¯t seen it through her own scrying lenses, she wouldn¡¯t have believed it. ¡°Can we confirm whether he¡¯s even still alive?¡±


    Radast maintained his stiff posture, but fiddled with his robes unconsciously. ¡°No, but we should assume that he¡¯s fine for now. Unless he appeared right in the middle of their city, he¡¯s very unlikely to run into anything he couldn¡¯t handle. A class 3 imp like the one that took him would spend most of its time outside, foraging for unclaimed souls to bring to its master.¡±


    ¡°Alright. What can we do with that, then? I assume you can¡¯t just go and get him.¡±


    The chief solicitor shook his head. ¡°No. Traveling there is, as you might have guessed, relatively simple. It¡¯s even been used as a dramatic method of execution in some places historically. The problem is getting back out. The only method that I¡¯ve heard of is from old stories and imperial records.¡±


    Iriala scowled at that, and Radast hurried to continue. ¡°It¡¯s plausible, though! It runs parallel to the way the archmage was drawn there in the first place. He needs to be touching a demon as it is summoned back to our plane.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Iriala said, relaxing. Why hadn¡¯t he just led with that? ¡°That¡¯s not too bad. You just have to bind a demon to go find him, deport it and then summon it back at predetermined intervals with instructions to take him along whenever it makes contact.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Radast said carefully. ¡°That¡¯s going to be a problem, actually. Demons don¡¯t accept pacts that attempt to compromise their loyalties and obligations on their home plane. There are some theories that posit we can¡¯t bind them outside the material realm at all, though I consider those to be problematic.¡±


    That was, indeed, going to be an issue. Pursing her lips in thought, Iriala considered for a moment. ¡°We only have maybe a week or two. Ed can conjure enough water to sustain himself, I¡¯m sure, but I doubt he can do food. Can you do something more informal? A trade of some kind, maybe.¡±


    Radast nodded uncertainly. ¡°We could try it. Time pressure makes this even more complicated, though. The bomber that attacked our offices managed to destroy our reagent stores, so I¡¯ll need to send my people out to look for what we need. It¡¯s unlikely that we¡¯ll have the resources to just summon random demons until we find one close enough to reach him in time. Fortunately, we do have the name of an imp that Josie recorded in one of her reports. It should be in the region somewhere, but there¡¯s no guarantee that it¡¯ll cooperate. Demons rarely break their word directly, but they¡¯ll still do it occasionally ¨C especially if they consider the summoner an enemy, which this one certainly will. ¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll just have to make it a good offer,¡± Iriala said with more confidence than she felt. Ed couldn¡¯t afford for them to wait around wringing their hands. ¡°I¡¯ll arrange the supplies and notify the Underkeepers, so whoever¡¯s in charge there right now can pass along a message if they like. When can you do it?¡±


    Radast rose, offering her a respectful nod. ¡°I think we can do it tonight. ¡±


    ¡°Wait a second.¡± Iriala said, as he turned to go. ¡°Speaking of imps, why don¡¯t we send Bernt¡¯s imp after him ¨C Jori? She has both a contractual relationship and a personal attachment to Ed. Even if she has to travel farther, she¡¯d be more reliable, and we could send her right now. I assume you¡¯ll need to deport her anyway, now that she has ascended again.¡±


    ¡°Ah. yes," the warlock said with a wince. "That¡¯s already been done, unfortunately, so I¡¯m afraid we would need to summon her as well. We can certainly attempt it, provided we can acquire enough reagents for multiple summonings. Still, Dzhorianath could be anywhere ¨C we have no idea where she was originally summoned from, and she couldn¡¯t tell us, as she wasn¡¯t sapient at the time of her summoning. For all we know, she might be over a months¡¯ travel away. She should be considered as a contingency at best.¡±


    Radast turned to go, but then continued the motion, spinning around entirely with his finger raised as if he¡¯d just thought of something. ¡°One more thing. It may also be worth it to bring the young Underkeeper into this, if he can be persuaded to cooperate. The imp listens to him, and while she doesn¡¯t appear to bear us specific ill will, she made it clear that she doesn¡¯t wish to work with us for the time being.¡±


    As the man swept out of her office, Iriala took off her glasses and rubbed at her tired eyes. This wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d had to take measures to pull Ed¡¯s ass out of the fire. This, though, was getting ridiculous.

 2.46 Confrontation

    ¡°Damnit, Bernt! I didn¡¯t know it was going to go like that, alright? I told you that you should have pacted Jori from the start!¡± Josie snapped, her face red with anger. Bernt didn¡¯t care ¨C he was angry, too.


    He¡¯d found her in the courtyard when he arrived at work and cornered her immediately to demand an explanation for what he¡¯d just overheard.


    ¡°Jori didn¡¯t want a pact in the first place. Especially not after she saw the kinds of pacts you use here. How can you expect someone to agree to that in the first place? She¡¯d be a slave.¡±


    Josie¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°No she wouldn¡¯t. A demon can¡¯t be enslaved by a human ¨C not really. She¡¯d be bound to behave and follow lawful orders while she¡¯s here. The distinction is important. Demons are always free to leave at any time and resume their lives in the hells however they like. That means any pact a demon will accept is accepted by choice. It¡¯s employment, not slavery, and the termination clause is frankly better than what you have at the Underkeepers. Did you know you have to give a month¡¯s notice before you can leave?¡±


    Bernt threw up his hands. ¡°Those were her words! Do you really think the technicalities matter here? Besides, that¡¯s not even the point. You¡¯re lying about what Jori did and using it as propaganda to make the Solicitors look good!¡±


    Josie groaned. ¡°What does it matter, Bernt? It¡¯s good for the Mages¡¯ Guild and the Underkeepers, too. And you know just as well as I do that Jori would be delighted if she heard the stories they¡¯re telling out there. This is good for her, too.¡± She emphasized the last sentence a little, as if willing him to understand something, but Bernt had had enough games and intrigue for a lifetime.


    ¡°It matters because it¡¯s wrong! It¡¯s wrong to punish someone for saving your life, and it¡¯s even more wrong to spin lies about it to take advantage of someone you betrayed like that, all just to look good in front of other people.¡±


    Josie¡¯s face fell at his description, though it was quickly swallowed in a professional mask. ¡°I understand that you¡¯re distraught, but you¡¯re not thinking it through.¡± She manifested her claws on one hand and laid them on Bernt¡¯s chest, pushing him back firmly. He stepped back quickly, despite his armored robes ¨C he¡¯d seen what they could do. ¡°Don¡¯t corner me like that again in the future, it¡¯s rude. We¡¯ll talk about it later, when you¡¯ve had some time.¡±


    Bernt tried to think of an adequate retort as she walked away, but nothing came to mind. How had she managed to make him feel like the asshole now?


    ***


    The first few hours of the shift passed quickly. There were a lot of new people in the Undercity, and Fiora set him up at a table in front of the Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters along with several others to help organize and register the masses of evacuees from the Crafter¡¯s and Lower Districts. All in all, nearly two thousand people had found refuge in the Undercity ¨C more than Bernt had expected would have been able to make it down the stairs in the time they¡¯d had.


    Today, those numbers were only growing. Many of the residents who had fled into the Temple District and other parts of the city had no homes to return to, and some of those who did couldn¡¯t return yet, because the streets were blocked by debris and as yet undiscovered bodies. The army and the City Guard had cleared the bodies as best they could, but there hadn¡¯t been time to dig through most of the rubble yet. There was no official death toll, yet, but Bernt knew it had to be significant.


    Whatever Ed had expected to happen, his foresight was proving its value now. Kustov¡¯s secret project ¨C a massive new cavern complex that had housed nearly a thousand evacuees last night, was quickly filling up with even more people streaming in from the partially gutted Lower District. The Goblin Quarter, ironically, still wasn¡¯t fully populated. A few families settled into the empty homes there, preferring the better-prepared quarters to what was available in the newest construction. Most, though, were deterred by its unofficial designation as a proverbial goblin den.


    Bernt was registering one such family and helping them fill out a temporary change of address form for the Official Records Office when Nirlig tapped him on the shoulder.


    ¡°Fiora wants you in Ed¡¯s office,¡± he murmured to him before turning to the young human woman wrangling her toddler while trying to make sense of the abstruse form. He made faces at the little boy until he laughed, and then picked him up, flashing the mother wide grin. ¡°Hi there! Change of address? Let me walk you through it. Oh, this is right down the street from my house. We¡¯re going to be neighbors!¡±


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    Leaving them in the gregarious goblin¡¯s capable care, Bernt made his way inside.


    The Underkeepers¡¯ complex felt oddly empty as he hurried down the main hallway, reminding him just how many people they¡¯d lost last night. There was supposed to be a memorial ceremony tomorrow for Glim, Rindle and the others. Bernt had worked with most of them at some point and it felt strange to think that they were just gone. It didn¡¯t feel real, as if any of them might be sitting in the break room right now.


    The door to Ed¡¯s office was open and Fiora was sitting behind his desk, signing papers of some variety or another. Bernt hadn¡¯t learned until today just how much paperwork was involved in war ¨C specifically in cleaning up after one.


    Waiting until she flipped a sheet over onto the pile of finished documents, Bernt knocked on the door frame.


    ¡°You called?¡±


    Fiora looked up. ¡°Ah, Bernt. Yes. You and I are going over to the temporary Solicitors¡¯ Office over in the Crafters¡¯ Quarter. They¡¯re going to try to send supplies to Ed, and they want you to help.¡±


    Bernt frowned. ¡°How could I possibly help with that?¡±


    ***


    Bernt tried not to fidget under the stern gaze of Archmage Iriala as they waited to be brought into the Solicitors¡¯ ritual chamber. He¡¯d tried to go inside to watch them prepare the summoning when they arrived, but a sour-faced warlock had barred his way.


    It had been worth a try, at least. They were going to summon Jori! Considering they were going to summon her specifically, it was exactly what he needed. If he could just watch, he might learn how it was done.


    ¡°Do you think you will be able to convince your imp to help?¡± Iriala asked, breaking the silence.


    Bernt frowned at her. ¡°What do you mean? It¡¯s Ed. Of course she¡¯s going to help him.¡±


    The archmage made a doubtful noise and Bernt¡¯s frown deepened. Jori had never done anything to suggest that she couldn¡¯t be trusted. In fact, it was the Solicitors and institutions like the Mages¡¯ Guild that insisted on continuing to treat her with suspicion that she very clearly hadn¡¯t earned. He was about to say something when Fiora put a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°We understand your concern, archmage, but I agree with him. Jori considers Ed to be an ally. Even released from her obligations to him, I think she¡¯ll still help. She likes him. Besides, wasn¡¯t this your idea?¡±


    ¡°Yes, for lack of any better options.¡± Iriala sighed. ¡°They¡¯re going to try to bribe one of the enemy imps first ¨C one that they got the name of somehow.¡±


    Bernt perked up at that. ¡°Are they going to bribe Jori? What do you think they¡¯ll offer?¡±


    Fiora shook her head. ¡°Not that. They¡¯re a legal organization ¨C they can¡¯t offer anything that they can¡¯t legally justify to the government, and Radast obviously doesn¡¯t want to bring her back, anyway. Those rumors they¡¯re telling about her are a lot easier to believe if you haven¡¯t actually met her.¡±


    The low murmur on the other side of the door subsided, replaced by a single voice chanting something unintelligible. That continued for a minute or so before it cut off. Someone cursed and a few other people started talking.


    The door opened and a mild herbal smell accompanied by an acrid undertone wafted out. Then Josie stepped out, dressed in a brown robe and wearing a troubled expression.


    ¡°Gegrenoth is dead. That, or bound by a greater demon, but that isn¡¯t very likely.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Fiora asked. ¡°Demons don¡¯t die, right? If he got torn up in the fight before the banishment ritual, he should still have just reformed in the hells. For all we know, he never even returned after Jori killed him on your patrol.¡±


    ¡°It means he was killed there, not here. Demons that survive long enough to go through a metamorphosis tend to live a long time, but a class 3 imp isn¡¯t anywhere near the top of the food chain. Maybe its master killed it for incompetence, or a more powerful fiend got it, or there¡¯s a war on in the hells themselves. It could be anything.¡±


    Iriala nodded impatiently. ¡°Alright, alright, we get it. What does this mean for Ed?


    Josie shrugged, turning back toward the ritual room. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to hope that Jori is nearby.¡±


    She closed the door and, a few moment later, the chanting started up again. The sound rose and fell, and for a moment Bernt feared that this summoning would fail, too. But then, suddenly, Jori was there. He could see Radast¡¯s infuriatingly professional smile through the bond. Jori was first surprised, then annoyed. Then she realized that Bernt was nearby and grew curious.


    ¡°Great One,¡± she said formally to Radast. ¡°What¡¯s going on? I was in the middle of something!¡±


    Finally, Josie opened the door to let them in. Trying to project a sense of wariness and urgency to Jori, Bernt followed Iriala and Fiora inside.


    She was standing inside a circle of script that appeared to be drawn in blood ¨C hopefully Radast¡¯s. It was nowhere near as complex as what he¡¯d drawn out in the pact description that they¡¯d offered Jori when they¡¯d first met. Presumably this one was just to assist the summoning itself, or maybe for containment, if they were paranoid.


    Jori¡¯s robes were singed at the edges. Had that been from the battle, or was she fighting in the hells? She grinned at them and waved.


    ¡°Bernt, Josie! Hi guys!¡± Then she turned to Iriala, whom she acknowledged with a tiny bow, followed by another wave to Fiora.

 2.47 Help Is On The Way

    Radast turned to look at Bernt, and only then did he realize that he was supposed to do the talking. Somehow, he¡¯d expected that he was just supposed to be there to symbolically lend his support. He cleared his throat. It felt strange to talk to her like this, with everybody watching them


    ¡°Have you managed to find Ed already? They said he should be somewhere nearby, as long as you¡¯re still anywhere near where the rest of your pack was. One of them grabbed him, right?¡±


    Jori scowled. ¡°Yeah, I saw it. It was Gegrenoth. I killed him days ago! I couldn¡¯t believe that he was back already. The duergar warlocks must have summoned him back almost immediately.¡±


    Bernt gave her a grim smile. ¡°The Solicitors just tried to summon him. They say he¡¯s dead. Properly, I mean.¡±


    Jori cocked her head to the side in surprise and looked over at Josie, who nodded in confirmation. Then she nodded firmly. ¡°Good! I didn''t like him!¡±


    ¡°Do you know where the rest of your pack are? Can you find Ed?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been looking. None of the demons I asked knew about a mortal in the hells. But I will find them, I know where to go! Varamemnon rules a city called Varadon. Or he is the city. They weren''t very clear. Nuros is one of his servants, so he must come from there. The weaker members of the pack will be outside somwehere, searching together to gather souls for their master. Stronger imps like Gegrenoth work alone.¡±


    ¡°How long will that take, do you think?¡± Iriala asked. ¡°Can you find him in a week?¡±


    ¡°Varamemnon is mighty and his territory is vast,¡± Jori said. ¡°But rumors spread fast, I think, and mortals don¡¯t normally come to us whole.¡± She looked from Iriala to Bernt, and then and looked pointedly down at the circle at her feet. ¡°It will take longer if you keep me here long.¡±


    Radast cleared his throat, apparently annoyed that he was being ignored.


    ¡°Rest assured that we will return you in short order. The purpose of this summons is to provide you with supplies for our errant archmage. He¡¯s going to get hungry soon, assuming he didn¡¯t bring any rations of his own, which we can¡¯t assume. Will you agree to bring him what he needs?¡±


    Iriala stepped forward and held out a satchel, which the imp accepted wordlessly. Jori¡¯s nose wrinkled as she sniffed at it, then opened the top to look inside. Unsatisfied, she reached in and drew out a package of food. ¡°Are there spicy wraps? I will bring the Great One this food, but I want spicy wraps!¡±


    The archmage looked confused, but Radast only nodded. ¡°We will add some spicy wraps for you. I¡¯d also like to check in with you in three days¡¯ time, and again every three days after that until we can extract Archmage Thurdred. To that end, you¡¯ll be required to seize him during transport to draw him back into this plane ¨C essentially the same process by which he was taken.¡±


    Jori blinked. ¡°You can bring him back?¡±


    ¡°We simply need you to seize hold of him at the appointed time.¡± Radast clarified.


    Bernt could practically feel the wheels turn in Jori¡¯s mind as she processed this information. Then, she turned a calculating gaze on the Solicitor in front of her.


    ¡°I will not ¨C I need his help. You can summon Ed back when we are done.¡±


    Rock solid confidence radiated from Jori through the bond, accompanied by a measure of relief. If he was interpreting it correctly, she¡¯d worried that they would bring Ed back too soon.


    Bernt wished he could talk to Jori in private for a few minutes. He could guess why she wanted Ed¡¯s help. She was planning some way to break her packmates free of Nuros¡¯ control ¨C probably by killing the fiend that had bound them. He wasn¡¯t sure what she wanted to do after that, but he guessed she would try to get them summoned into the material plane. Considering her aversion to the Solicitors¡¯ pact requirements, that wasn¡¯t going to happen any time soon, nor anywhere that the Solicitors had any real influence.


    But why was she suddenly in such a hurry to get this done? She hadn¡¯t expressed any real urgency before.


    He tried to convey his questions to her through their bond, but either he didn¡¯t do it right or Jori couldn¡¯t parse the clunky method of communication. She threw him a confused and slightly annoyed glance before turning back to Radast, who was watching her with narrowed eyes.


    ¡°What do you require?¡± he asked after a moment.


    Jori scowled. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to haggle with you. I will help Great One Ed and give him the food. You can have him back when we¡¯re done! Then you can help me, too!¡±


    ¡°What manner of help?¡± Radast asked in exactly the same tone as before.


    ¡°I want to stay here!¡± Jori demanded. ¡°You will agree to let me remain in Halfbridge. Ed will vouch for me, and so will you and the Great Mage.¡±


    ¡°You know perfectly well that we aren¡¯t able to offer that. As I already explained to you, your prior arrangement already relied on an untested legal argument. There simply is no legal basis I can use to justify your presence here so long as you refuse to be appropriately pacted.¡±


    Jori¡¯s eyes narrowed, and Bernt felt anger flare in her chest at the warlock¡¯s use of the word ¡°appropriately.¡± She opened her mouth to retort, but only a small hiss escaped before Josie interrupted her.


    ¡°We could sue for an exception!¡±


    Radast turned to look at her, startled at the suggestion. Then he pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. After a few seconds, he frowned at her in bemusement.


    ¡°Based on what? The law is clear ¨C she¡¯s grown too powerful. Class 3 demons are classified as imminent threats to Beseri civilians and infrastructure by default. We¡¯re required to deport them without delay.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t need to be strictly a legal argument.¡± Josie countered. ¡°We could argue that she¡¯s due consideration for extraordinary services rendered to the kingdom against the Duergar. Or I could file for a legal review to test whether her deportation was legal in the first place ¨C there was some legal ambiguity there. It could force the Royal Magistrate in Teres to reconcile the law, and it might come out in Jori¡¯s favor.¡±


    ¡°What ambiguity?¡± Radast said, sounding curious and annoyed at the same time.


    ¡°Jori is a registered government employee.¡± Josie explained. ¡°She draws a salary. We¡¯re not a government organization, so by deporting her, we¡¯re preventing her from performing her duties to the count, and by extension the crown. That¡¯s a crime, just as not deporting her would have been. If the Underkeepers sue, or if we file a request, they can¡¯t ignore it. In fact, it¡¯s more likely to succeed if the Underkeepers sue either us or the government directly.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Radast hummed in consideration. ¡°It¡¯s technically a conflict, but I doubt there¡¯s much chance of it coming out in Dzhorianath¡¯s favor. She had a contract signed by Archmage Thurdred that explicitly required her not to advance to class 3 on pain of deportation, after all.¡±


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    Josie waved away his objections. ¡°True enough, but that wasn¡¯t her employment contract. I helped her negotiate it. If I go in person, I can make sure they don¡¯t ignore the details. It¡¯s all there if¨C¡±


    ¡°I want it!¡± Jori interrupted excitedly. ¡°Josie will go to tell the king that his law violates the obligations of his servants. She must do her best to get a favorable result. In exchange, I will return the Great Mage Ed. I will bring him with me when our task is complete.¡±


    Josie started to nod, but Iriala put a hand on her shoulder, shaking her head.


    ¡°Not good enough. You¡¯ll pass messages ¨C unaltered messages ¨C between us and Ed. And, at the very latest, you¡¯ll agree to return Ed by the time that Josie returns from Teres, regardless of the judgment she brings with her.¡±


    Jori grinned. ¡°Done!¡±


    Then, without waiting for a response or any further warning, she disappeared in a burst of violet flame. Bernt flinched. She hadn''t bled on the rune circle to activate it this time. How did it work?


    Radast fixed Iriala with a level stare. ¡°You should have argued for a shorter time frame, archmage. Unless Josie is rejected outright, she could be arguing this case for as long as it takes them to rewrite the relevant laws ¨C potentially both employment law, and the relevant restrictions on demons. It could literally take years.¡±


    Iriala grimaced and sighed. ¡°Well, at least the imp probably doesn¡¯t know that.¡±


    Bernt looked over to Josie, who returned his gaze with a challenging look. He smiled at her, trying to convey the gratitude he felt without saying anything in front of Radast. Bernt knew that Radast regarded him with suspicion, and it would be problematic to imply that Josie had been doing anything but helping the Chief Solicitor reach a deal.


    He¡¯d misjudged her badly and he was only now realizing it. Bernt still didn¡¯t understand how the Solicitors could justify the wild rumors that they were spreading about Jori, or how Josie could defend them. But at the same time, it was clear that Josie, at least, was trying to find a way to help. In fact, he suspected that she might have been planning her legal contingency for some time. Had she already been thinking about this moment when she¡¯d helped Jori negotiate for pay?


    And could it actually work?


    ***


    The tunnel down to the Undercity had been repaired so quickly that it almost seemed as though nothing had happened. The walls where the Duergar had broken in were smoother now than they¡¯d been before, and too clean, somehow. There was also more traffic, mostly human evacuees from the Lower District still making their way down to register for a place to stay.


    The lines in front of headquarters stretched halfway around the cavern, and Bernt didn¡¯t expect them to get any shorter in the foreseeable future. He was making for the tunnel into the Goblin quarter, toward his house, when someone seized his shoulder.


    Bernt flinched and whirled, manaburn already pooling in his right hand. The man who¡¯d grabbed him stared with eyebrows raised, but he didn¡¯t look scared. He was short and thin, wearing an old and ragged robe that had been white at some point.


    ¡°Whoa there!¡± he said in a friendly tone. ¡°Just saw your uniform there, don¡¯t mind me. I was wondering if you could direct me to a young man named Torvald from your organization?¡±


    It took Bernt a second to compose himself, but he extinguished the fire and straightened.


    ¡°Sorry. Who are you? We don¡¯t give out information regarding our colleagues to the public.¡±


    "Oh, right!¡± he grinned easily. ¡°My name is Finian. I¡¯m an errant priest of Ruzinia and I¡¯ve been Sent.¡± He emphasized the last word in a way that suggested to Bernt he hadn¡¯t been sent by another priest, or his temple. This was not the sort of business he wanted to get in the way of.


    ¡°Right. Okay.¡± Bernt nodded. ¡°Come with me. We''ll go find him.¡± No matter who he was, Bernt couldn''t just let him run around the building unsupervised.


    Finding Torvald was easy ¨C the paladin had flatly refused to take a day off despite his concussion and Fiora wasn¡¯t in a position to turn down a willing hand. Still, she¡¯d put him on desk duty. As the son of the City Guard Commander, Torvald was both educated and familiar with city-level politics. That made him one of the few people in their organization qualified to properly sort and prioritize the mail and various work requests that continued to pour in ¨C war or no war.


    Torvald, unlike Bernt, immediately knew who the priest was when they entered Ed¡¯s office. He rose from the archmage¡¯s chair with a broad smile and held out his hand.


    ¡°You¡¯re here so soon ¨C I had no idea you¡¯d be so quick! A real Ruzinian priest! You¡¯re the first one I¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    ¡°I was in the area.¡± Finnian replied with a shrug. ¡°These things have a way of working out. It comes with the job.¡±


    ¡°Great!¡± Torvald said. ¡°Uh¡­ what happens now? I mean, the goddess told me to expect you, but what¡¯s next?¡±


    Finnian reached into his robes and drew out a small bottle. ¡°I anoint you as a paladin, and you go and follow your Calling. It¡¯s not complicated. Just kneel down.¡±


    Torvald knelt, looking up at the shorter man. ¡°Can I choose? A man I know was pulled into the hells by a demon. He can''t get out. Can we help him?¡±


    ¡°We go to those who are most desperate ¨C wherever the goddess leads.¡± Finian said, shrugging. ¡°Your friend¡¯s situation will not go unnoticed. She has many hands and She sees far. It is not for us to guide her.¡±


    Carefully, he tipped the bottle and poured a golden-colored oil on his head. Bernt nearly stopped him ¨C he was making a mess ¨C but stopped himself. You didn¡¯t interrupt holy rituals if you valued your life. Ruzinia wasn¡¯t known for being a vengeful goddess, but nobody in their right mind would prod at a deity to see what happened. When the bottle was empty, a soft golden light rose from Torvald. Bernt suddenly had trouble breathing, as if the air was too thick.


    ¡°Torvald, son of Righmond. You have brought hope to the hopeless in the name of the goddess. Will you go where She leads you and shelter those She holds in Her hand?¡± The priest said, his voice reverberating oddly, as if it were coming from the very stones all around. His voice wasn''t loud, but Bernt guessed that it carried far.


    ¡°I will.¡± Torvald said simply.


    And just like that, the light winked out and Bernt could breathe again. The paladin¡¯s head jerked up and he looked around, surprised. ¡°What? Did I say something wrong?¡±


    Finian tucked the bottle away and smiled. ¡°No, that¡¯s it. Ruzinia¡¯s not very wordy. Too much work to do. Congratulations, you¡¯re officially a Ruzinian pilgrim. Maybe we¡¯ll run into each other again sometime. Now, if you don¡¯t mind, I have another appointment a few days north of here.¡± With that, the priest turned to go.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Torvald called out. ¡°What do I do? There¡¯s no temple here, and Ruzinians don¡¯t join the military¡­¡±


    The priest didn¡¯t slow, he just called over his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. You¡¯ll know!¡±


    Torvald looked from the retreating priest to Bernt, who shrugged at him. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m pretty sure those evacuees out there are feeling pretty desperate to get their paperwork filed. Maybe you¡¯re right where you¡¯re supposed to be.¡±


    Leaving the paladin to it, he made his way back out of the building to help Nirlig combat the ever-growing lines of people looking to move into the Undercity.


    ***


    Bernt turned on his back to find a more comfortable position and drew his blanket around himself more tightly. He stared up toward the smooth ceiling of his home where a flickering perpetual torch spell flickered in the air. It was nice having semi-permanent lighting like this, but he couldn¡¯t find it in himself to enjoy it.


    On the one hand, he felt relieved after the days¡¯ events. Worrying about Jori had felt like being swept down a river with no control over what was next. The meeting had been like finally finding solid footing. Jori had a way back, and so did Ed. This morning, he¡¯d been floundering, trying to find anything remotely resembling an opportunity to hang his hopes on. Now they had one, but it was sinking in that it might still be a long time before everything could go back to normal.


    Since finishing his education at the academy, Bernt had largely thought of himself as someone who did things alone. Someone who lived alone, often worked alone, studied alone and usually ate alone. But that hadn¡¯t been true. Jori had been with him for the majority of that time, even if she hadn¡¯t been quite sapient yet ¨C especially in the first year.


    Now he was alone, and he hated it.


    He couldn¡¯t sleep, for one. That was a problem, because he had another long day ahead of him tomorrow. He could just tell that something wasn¡¯t right. A fire should be burning in the stove, and Jori should be curled up against it. It wasn¡¯t supposed to be this godsdamned quiet.


    Flinging the blanket off, Bernt rose and crossed the room, loading scraps of wood into the stove. It was wasteful, but he didn¡¯t care. Not today. With a quick cantrip, he lit the fire and went back to bed.


    The fire crackled slightly, and the smell of wood smoke tickled his nostrils.


    It wasn¡¯t the same, but it was better.

 2.48 History Repeats

    ¡°When Ed told me that the Underkeepers were going to become a guard organization, and that we were going to open applications to the general public, I told him he was out of his mind -- and he was!¡± Fiora looked around at the humans, dwarves, goblins and gnomes assembled in the center of the Undercity Market.


    Behind her stood what Bernt assumed was going to be some kind of monument ¨C currently covered in an enormous sheet of cloth. It hadn¡¯t been there last night.


    She offered them a wry smile. ¡°But Ed has always been the best kind of crazy. He didn¡¯t care that nobody had done this kind of thing before. He wanted change, so he made it happen. Or rather, he invited you to make it happen, and you showed up. Now, barely a month later, you stepped up to defend this city against invasion, and our new community in it. We were new and untested, but you trusted in yourselves and in us ¨C many of you proved it by moving your families down here. And that trust was vindicated when the Duergar came for us in force, we stood in the way.¡±


    Fiora paused for a moment, lending gravity to her words. ¡°Many of us aren¡¯t here today to appreciate our hard-won victory, but their families are. Some won¡¯t be able to return to work, but their families will. We¡¯re here today to memorialize those who didn¡¯t make it¡­¡±


    As Fiora continued, Bernt noticed just how many people had turned out to watch. The Underkeepers were a relatively small organization, numbering barely over a hundred people when the Duergar attacked. Now, he estimated that they had maybe 70 left. Most of those were deaths, but a few had been maimed and would be forced into retirement.


    Bernt stood near the back of the Underkeepers, behind Nirlig and his father and a few gnomes, but the crowd was much larger than that. Beyond the cluster of grey-clad Underkeepers stood hundreds more people. Many of them were the families of the dead, but others were passersby and people who¡¯d come to shop at the market only to discover a ceremony in progress.


    Still others were evacuees from the surface. For many from the Crafters'' District, the reality that their homes had been completely destroyed was only now starting to sink in. Bernt expected that some had taken notice of the fact that their evacuation had been entirely managed by the Underkeepers, rather than the City Guard.


    As the crowd grew, Fiora¡¯s magically amplified voice grew in volume to match. Bernt hadn¡¯t expected her to be a gifted public speaker, but she was. She had little difficulty holding the crowd¡¯s attention, lauding the dedication of the Underkeepers to their community, and reaffirming the importance and the value of their work. When she thanked them for their service to the city of Halfbridge and drew down the cloth that obscured the monument, there were even a few gasps from the crowd.


    It was a black stone obelisk. The Underkeepers¡¯ symbol was carved at the top of each of the four faces and painted gold, a crescent over an arcane glyph with a line down the middle. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure exactly what the glyph meant, but the shape alone made it clear it was related to hydromancy.


    The two faces that Bernt could see from where he was standing were inscribed with dwarvish runes and the strange goblin script that Lin had been using respectively. He couldn¡¯t read dwarvish well, but he recognized enough characters to realize that he was looking at the names of the dead. He stared at the goblin script, trying to work out how many names there were ¨C he still didn¡¯t know exactly who was dead, and who he just hadn¡¯t seen since the battle. The text just looked like a continuous line with little branches coming off of it.


    As the crowd started to disperse, he leaned over to Nirlig. ¡°You know, I think it would have been better to carve it all in Beseri. This way, nobody¡¯s going to be able to read the goblin names, and most people won¡¯t be able to read the dwarvish or the gnomish ones either.¡±


    Nirlig smiled. ¡°No, it¡¯s good. I think they did it because of us, actually. I guess Fiora knows about our customs. Or maybe Kustov ¨C he probably made it.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Bernt asked, puzzled.


    ¡°We don¡¯t write down the names of the dead.¡± Morix explained, taking over from his son. ¡°Only their direct descendants are allowed to speak their names or tell of them to others.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Alright¡­ what does it say, then?¡± Bernt asked, taken aback a bit. Why wouldn¡¯t you be allowed to talk about the dead? Wouldn¡¯t that mean anyone who died without children would be forgotten inside a single generation?


    ¡°It¡¯s a poem about the battle ¨C a song.¡± Morix explained. ¡°Any goblin who comes here can get a first hand account right from the memorial, as long as they can read. We don¡¯t write down songs, normally, but I suppose Lin had to give Kustov something to appease him.¡±


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Bernt examined the script again, wondering exactly what it said. He started to ask, only to be cut off by the arrival of a large, unfamiliar goblin who pushed past him as she berated Morix.


    ¡°My poor nephew, just look at his hand! I told my sister that you were trouble! I told her! The poor boy! How is he ever going to meet a nice young woman like that? You¡¯ve always been reckless, Morix, but this is too much!¡±


    Bernt backed up, extricating himself. That would be Nirlig¡¯s infamous Aunt Striga, he guessed, and he did not want to answer questions about Jori right now. Besides, he needed to get to the surface. He still hadn¡¯t found the time to check in on Therion and the others and he wanted to make sure they were alright.


    ***


    ¡°Tell me about Nuros.¡± Iriala said in Duergar, walking in a slow circle around her prisoner. The abjurer she¡¯d captured was shackled to a stone ring inside a circle of wards. She¡¯d prepared her questions ahead of time, and brought one of her mages, a dwarf who claimed to understand the language well enough to help her if she didn¡¯t understand something.


    When you were questioning someone, preparation was critical. You needed to know what to ask and how to ask it, and you had to make sure you took your time about it. Ironically, rushing to get answers tended to result in stall tactics. It gave people the idea that they could ¡®win¡¯ by just holding out for a while. Not that she predicted it would be an issue with a Duergar.


    ¡°Our sources suggest he¡¯s not your prince, but rather the demon possessing him,¡± she went on. ¡°So I wonder. Why doesn¡¯t anyone speak the name of the warlock ¨C your prince? Was he hiding his identity? Why? We already know we¡¯re fighting the Duergar Empire. For the gods'' sake, you sent us an ambassador!¡±


    The dwarf stood impassively, watching her whenever she passed by in front of him. He didn¡¯t try to follow her with his gaze, and he didn¡¯t appear intimidated. Neither did he seem overly resistant. The Duergar mage just looked weary.


    Enki, her interpreter, grunted something impatient sounding at the prisoner, who sighed. After another lengthy pause, he finally responded.


    ¡°You do not fight the Empire.¡± he said slowly, staring at her as if trying to make sure she understood. ¡°The Empire is big¡­. we are a small¡­ the surface region¡­¡± he continued, but Iriala didn¡¯t understand the rest. Fortunately Enki noticed and helpfully translated.


    ¡°He¡¯s saying they¡¯re only a small part of the empire ¨C their ¡®king¡¯ is something more like a regional governor, by the sound of it. Their king sent them out to ''lay low'' the enemies of the Empire, or something like that. I''m guessing either he or Nuros just wanted get to the surface for his own purposes.¡±


    ¡°To harvest souls. As we found out.¡± Iriala said darkly. She returned to her pacing, thinking out loud. ¡°Though I don''t think they really cared about us specifically. They were fighting the kobolds, first. We might just be a target of opportunity. Did they even know we were here?"


    Enki shrugged. "I doubt he''s going to give us an honest answer, but probably. We knew about them, after all, at least to a point."


    Iriala nodded. "To a point, yes. We knew the Duergar Empire was larger than Besermark, though he¡¯s certainly trying to make it sound much larger.¡±


    This might be a good thing. If the larger empire saw this entire war as a meaningless border skirmish, then Nuros¡¯ influence likely didn¡¯t extend beyond this single ¡®¡¯kingdom¡¯ within the Empire. It meant there might be political fault lines to exploit here. For that matter, was their central government even aware of the conflict? She would need to gather more information.


    Filing that away, she turned back to the enemy mage, repeating her question in Duergar. ¡°So, why do we still not know the name of the Duergar warlock behind all this?¡±


    ¡°Because you asked a summoner, I assume,¡± he said matter-of-factly. ¡°Summoners turn their eyes from every crack in the stone.¡±


    Iriala blinked and looked over to Enki, who explained.


    ¡°He means their warlocks prefer to ignore obvious problems. I¡¯m going to guess he doesn¡¯t think very much of them.¡±


    Iriala scoffed. ¡°Then why go to war for them? And what the hells does it mean?¡±


    Enki fired off her questions in Duergar. Iriala could mostly understand her, but it took too long to try to put the sentences together coherently on her own. She frowned. Who would have thought that she was ever going to need to have a serious conversation in Duergar?


    The dwarf answered easily this time, speaking faster and quite a bit longer. Enki grimaced in disgust after a few sentences. It was something about the king and some kind of conversation he had with Nuros. Did he mean the prince? As he talked, Enki¡¯s grimace melted into horrified fascination. When he finished, she spat on the ground as if trying to get a bad taste out of her mouth.


    ¡°What is it?¡± she asked. What could get that kind of reaction?


    ¡°Their king is called Grundrik. He¡¯s an ancient warlock of some kind, apparently. Unnaturally ancient. He initially pacted Nuros a few decades before this fellow here was born. Powerful demons like that don¡¯t grow on trees. You can¡¯t just give it a soul or two as payment. So the rumor is that he gave the demon his young son, instead. It¡¯s a rumor, because nobody can actually confirm that he had a son, just that the duergar Nuros was riding around bore a family resemblance to Grundrik. If the Solicitors said that the demons called him a duergar prince, though¡­ well, what reason would they have to lie? He''s been here that entire time, building influence in their kingdom.¡±


    Iriala scowled. What a disaster. It was the fall of the Madurian Empire all over again.

 2.49 Manaburn

    Nuros cast himself along the ground at the feet of his master. His presence darkened the floor of most of the enormous audience chamber, though it didn¡¯t diminish the light that flooded in from the far end, where hellfire flickered from an enormous, misshapen maw. He had no idea what the devourer had looked like before its last metamorphosis, but he doubted it had been anything like this. Varamemnon¡¯s face was here, but the rest of his body ¨C a mass of tentacles and eyes, grew throughout his city. In many respects, Varamemnon was his city.


    ¡°Master.¡± Nuros said. ¡°I am returned.¡±


    The shade had grown more powerful since the last time he was here ¨C much more powerful. The darkness that made up his substance could now resist the light to a degree and he managed to extend himself ever so slightly up into three dimensions.


    He hated it here. The third hell was like any plane away from home ¨C oppressively bright. The fifth hell was blessedly dark, vast and empty, and it was one of the few places that a shade could take on its true shape. Nuros, though, wouldn¡¯t be constrained to such limits much longer. He was close. So close.


    ¡°Nuros.¡± A voice that sounded like the roar of a thousand furnaces spoke his name. ¡°My enemies nip at the heels of my vassals. K¡¯Thanizar sees your failure and whispers of weakness to my peers. Anukthun prepares his servants for war and even Illa¡¯ka sends her hags into my realm to poach my crop. Why do you return?¡±


    ¡°Great One.¡± Nuros said, trying to stay perfectly still despite the sudden urge to flee. ¡°An Outsider interfered, granting great power to one of their pawns who destroyed the vessel before its time. I seized most of what it had gathered, but it was insufficient for my ascension. Soon, though, I will prevail. There are other cities, and other armies stand ready for the harvest.¡±


    Varamemnon rumbled in thought. ¡°Why, then, do you return?¡±


    ¡°I seek your blessing, Great One. My host was destroyed by an imp named Dzhorianath ¨C it was cleverly done and the method used was¡­ not typical for one such as her. I wish to bind her to me. My servants tell me that it is bound by a human, a warlock named Bernt. Given the proper nourishment, she could become an asset.¡±


    ¡°An imp.¡± Varamemnon mused. ¡°Very unusual¡­ very well. Bind her in my name, but be wary. Fail me again in the sight of my enemies, and I may feed your power to her, instead.¡±


    Nuros groveled appropriately and backed out of the massive chamber. Then, he descended, ignoring the lesser supplicants cowering on the steps of the enormous ziggurat. The meeting had gone reasonably well, all things considered. Soon, he would ascend to become a true demon lord. In time, he would found his own city deep in the eternal dark of the fifth hell. A place where fear itself went to die, and he would have to bow to no one.


    But that was far off, yet. Soon, he would be summoned back to the material plane and resume his harvest of his little corner of the mortal world. Once that was done, he had a servant to poach.


    He needed to kill the foolish warlock who had sent the clever imp to break his host, both to break their pact and for his own personal satisfaction.


    ***


    The late afternoon sun was already casting long shadows when Bernt made his way into the Crafters¡¯ District out of the Undercity Gate, only to be met by the sight of hundreds of gray-skinned dwarves.


    He¡¯d already half-finished casting a fireball when he realized that the duergar in front of him weren¡¯t armed. In fact, they were half naked and hauling rubble with stone-faced determination under the watchful eye of the City Guard. He canceled the spell and walked forward, looking around at them suspiciously as he passed.


    By the looks of it, the City Guard was forcing the prisoners to rebuild what they had destroyed. That, in itself, wasn¡¯t that strange. What surprised Bernt more was how well the odd dwarves cooperated. Bernt wasn¡¯t really sure how these things normally worked, but it felt strange. How could these be the same people who had climbed over their own dead to try to kill them in the Undercity?


    As he passed, he couldn¡¯t help but look over his shoulders at them, expecting one to rush at him at any moment.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Nothing happened. Leaving the odd scene behind him, he hiked through the broken Crafters¡¯ District and the Temple District, making his way into the Upper District, where Therion lived. He hadn¡¯t heard from any of his adventurer friends since before the battle. The wealthy neighborhood felt like an entirely different world, even more so now. Everything was so clean, and there was no sign of the many people who had been displaced from the Lower District, many of whom were still camping in the streets.


    Bernt supposed that most of them would eventually make their way into the Undercity, but now that the danger had passed, they would have to fill out the proper forms before they could be assigned housing. It would take days, maybe weeks to process everyone.


    Here, children played out in the street and Bernt even saw someone fastidiously trimming an already well-groomed hedge with scissors. He knew the incongruous sight would have outraged him just a month or two ago, but he found he couldn¡¯t muster any real ill will for them. At least someone had managed to get out of this mess without grief.


    When he knocked on Therion¡¯s door, a young girl that couldn¡¯t have been more than ten years old opened it. Her eyes were red ¨C she¡¯d been crying recently. Did Therion have a younger sister?


    ¡°Can I help you?¡± she said in a tone that suggested that she did not, in fact, want to help him.


    ¡°Hi,¡± Bernt said, an ominous feeling stirring in his guts. ¡±Is Therion around? I just wanted to drop by to check in on him after the battle.¡±


    Wordlessly, the girl turned and disappeared into the house. Bernt stood there awkwardly for a minute, not sure what to do next. Finally, though, Therion shuffled up to the door and offered him a tired but genuine smile.


    ¡°Hey. I heard you guys took a beating down in the Undercity. Glad to see you¡¯re still with us.¡± He turned, waving for him to follow over his shoulder. ¡°Come on in.¡±


    Bernt followed him inside, through a foyer into a large living room. It was larger than his entire home in the Undercity, and Bernt idly wondered what someone could possibly want such a large room in a private residence for when he noticed the man lying on the massive couch filled one corner of the room on his left, next to an enormous fireplace. It was Garius.


    His eyes were open, but he wasn¡¯t looking at anything. The girl was sitting next to the man, trying to feed him from a bowl of what looked like porridge and whispering to him.


    ¡°He was in charge of the rangers during the attack.¡± Therion explained with a dead voice. ¡°Ambrose ordered them in toward the Undercity Gate to cover him and help him kill a bunch of warlocks. He wanted to break some kind of artifact they were using over there. The others said that my dad got hit by one of those shadow bolts when he tried to kill their leader. They got most of them before they retreated. But¡­ he¡¯s catatonic.¡±


    ¡°Oh man.¡± Bernt tried to find the right words to say. He knew what it was like to lose a parent, but no one had said the right things to him then, either. It was supposed to hurt. He swallowed. ¡°Can the temples do anything?¡±


    ¡°Syrah was here. She said the gods won¡¯t touch the minds of mortals, not even to heal them.¡± Therion swallowed thickly, but then composed himself again. ¡°She said he might get better on his own in time, though. The spell most likely caused some kind of mental trauma. We just need to take care of him. Talking to him is supposed to help.¡±


    Waving for him to follow, Therion took him out the other side of the room, into the garden. He walked quickly, obviously trying to clear his mind. ¡°What happened down below, exactly? I heard a few rumors, but it sounds¡­ well, nothing that seems very reliable.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve heard some of those, too.¡± Bernt said. ¡°The truth is crazy enough to fit right in with the rumors, though.¡± He filled Therion in on what had happened, backing up a bit to explain his new sorcerous investiture before describing the battle and his role in it. Too much had happened in such a short time.


    When he was done, he followed up with a question of his own. ¡°So, Syrah was here ¨C I guess she¡¯s fine. What about the others?¡±


    Therion shrugged, settling down on a rock near the edge of the property. They¡¯d rounded the house and were standing near the street under an old oak tree. ¡°We fought together, covering the flanks of the more powerful adventurers and making sure the Duergar couldn¡¯t come around and cut off their retreat. Our area was relatively safe ¨C nothing we couldn¡¯t handle. Furin took a spear in the leg, but it wasn¡¯t serious. Syrah fixed him right there.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Bernt felt some of the tension release in his chest. ¡°I¡¯m glad it didn¡¯t turn out worse.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Considering everything I¡¯ve heard, we got lucky.¡± Therion said. He gestured back toward the house. ¡°I knew something like this might happen one day. Adventuring is a dangerous job. I just hoped¡­ well, that it wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    Bernt nodded, but he didn¡¯t reply. Sometimes, there just wasn¡¯t anything to say.


    ¡°So, liquid perpetual flame, conjured instantly.¡± Therion said after a minute, trying to change the subject. ¡°Do you have any idea how dangerous that makes you against other spellcasters? You can break through wards, enchantments and protective spells at will with this. Oren is going to be furious when he hears about it. You have no idea how much trouble he has to go through to get past an enchanted lock.¡±


    Bernt grinned. ¡°Works great for clearing slimes, too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± Therion laughed, and it sounded only a little forced. ¡°What are you going to call it?¡±


    ¡°Manaburn.¡± Bernt replied. ¡°What else?¡±

 Arc 2 Epilogue

    Ed dug around in his belt pouch, digging out his mess kit along with his remaining supplies. He found some dried apricots that felt more like stones than food, a pack of tobacco and a small package of dusty-smelling crackers from the-gods-knew-when. They were nearly a decade old, preserved in the sterile holding space since the day he and his two best officers had been ¡°retired¡± out of the army thanks to Righmond¡¯s smarmy relatives. He¡¯d never bothered to clear his things out of the bag ¨C it had plenty of space, and you never knew when that sort of thing would come in handy.


    Except now he did know. He was stuck and starving in a literal hell, and the water here tasted like a demon¡¯s ass.


    There was no telling how long he¡¯d been here ¨C the hells apparently didn¡¯t enjoy a day and night cycle like any self-respecting plane of existence should. After hunting down that godsdamned imp, he¡¯d spent what felt like at least a day looking around the general area. There was some kind of city in the distance, but the gigantic tentacles waving out from behind the walls were enough to convince him that a visit there was going to be a last resort. Eventually, he had been forced to accept that there wasn¡¯t anything like a convenient gate home nearby. So, he had carved himself a shelter into the cliff face overlooking the hellfire river below. This was going to be his worst billet ever, by far.


    Concentrating, he pulled out his battered tin cup and conjured water into it. Casting the simple spell was a laborious process for him, taking damned near five seconds, but he had plenty of practice. As an archmage, he was highly specialized, so casting a simple cantrip like this was more about cutting the spellform down to size than shaping it in the first place. Otherwise it would probably just cause a wet explosion, or something. He¡¯d never tried it.


    He dunked a fossilized cracker in the water and let it soak for a moment so he wouldn¡¯t break his teeth on it.


    He¡¯d run into demons a couple of times already, though they were all weak little critters. That imp was the only thing that could cast anything resembling a spell so far, so he wasn¡¯t overly concerned for his safety in that regard. At least, not more than he would be back home.


    No, the hunger would get him first.


    There was no way he could eat anything from here. There weren¡¯t any plants, for one ¨C just demons, rocks, and the ghosts. They were souls, Ed assumed, but they were damned creepy. They still looked sort of like people ¨C humanoid shapes. But they didn¡¯t behave right. They didn¡¯t talk or try to communicate with each other, but there was still something there. They flinched away when they saw him, and when he saw a demon take one, the nearby ones had fled as if terrified.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    He¡¯d killed the demon, of course, and a few minutes later, the ghosts just drifted back together, like sheep waiting to be culled.


    Ed shuddered at the memory. It wasn¡¯t right.


    He needed to decide what to do. His food was going to run out within a day. As far as he knew, people didn¡¯t just cheerfully travel back and forth from the hells. It was supposed to be a one-way trip. On the other hand, it wasn¡¯t the sort of thing you were supposed to do when you were still alive, either. Radast, he was sure, would know how to get out of this place. Would they send somebody for him?


    Only if they won the battle.


    Ed scowled. He didn¡¯t like their odds. The city would make it, he was sure, but his people? Iriala would have seen what was happening and sent the guilds to push the Duergar back down the tunnel. Considering that they¡¯d pushed into the Undercity instead of retreating back to where they¡¯d come from, the guilds would have had to drive clear through the enemy army to reach the Underkeepers.


    No, he had to assume that they¡¯d lost ¨C and that meant nobody living would know he was here. Maybe if Iriala saw, assuming that she was scrying him at the time. But she¡¯d had her own battle to deal with. No, that wasn¡¯t a safe assumption. He pulled the soggy cracker from the water and put it in his mouth mechanically. It tasted like dirt.


    Swallowing it down, he began soaking another one. If he was stuck here with limited supplies and no way out, then he needed to consider how best to use the time he had. These Duergar assholes had decided that Halfbridge was a nice, soft target to squeeze for all the godsforsaken souls they could feed to their demonic overlord. Or maybe the demon was calling the shots all along. It didn¡¯t matter.


    Considering what had dragged him here, he was willing to bet that that disgusting, writhing city he¡¯d seen had something to do with Nuros, or more likely his boss, king¡­ whatever they had. It was there, and he was here, too. And his clock was ticking, no matter what he did.


    Well, that didn¡¯t sound like such a hard decision after all.


    Conjuring another cup of water, Ed downed it and tucked a dried apricot into his cheek as he rose. He dusted off his robes and started walking, packing his pipe on the way. Who knew? Maybe he could tear this Varamemnon character a new asshole before it ate him.

 Underkeeper Geography Dump

    Besermark : Besermark is what used to be the Easternmost reaches of the Madurian Empire. Its economic power is built around its control of three rivers, two of which empty out into the Illurian Sea, and one which grants them access to the northern ocean. It is protected by mountains on its western flank, the burning Phoenix Reaches to the south, and the untamed Eastern Reaches to the East. Beseri kings have always entertained notions of eastward expansion, but so far they haven''t even managed to fully tame Beseri territory. Wars, border incursions, internal tensions, native monsters and a successive series of other economic and political factors keep Besermark limping along rather than expanding its influence into unclaimed lands.


    Beseri Regional Map: To the northwest, Besermark is flanked by the Tib''Nar highlands, which is home to primarily orcs, centaurs, trolls and goblins. Many of the nomadic tribal groups that live there were originally driven out of northern Besermark during the Madurian settlement period and still hold a grudge. Due west we have a collection of Dwarven City States, including Silvercrag Hall, where Kustov is from. They maintain a neutral relationship with anyone who isn''t actively hostile toward them and trade with all their neighbors, even the xenophobic lizardmen of Sehesh.


    To the southwest, we have Madzhur and Kallrix, both of which are cosmopolitan post-Madurian states, Madzhur is the rump state that remained after the collapse of the empire. Its people are fiercely proud and cling to their cultural heritage (minus the last few imperial decades *cough*). Kallrix is a relatively small coastal republic and the only subjugated pre-Madurian state to reform after the country''s collapse. It''s also the only country that incorporated goblins as citizens at the time of their founding, owing to their unique history and culture.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Miria, across the sea, is a coastal collection of free cities and small independent fiefdoms that used to be Madurian colonies. They''re extremely heterogenous and fiercely independent, fighting amongst themselves so much that they still haven''t managed to expand into the continent''s interior.


    Lastly, we have Illuria, a maritime power and on-again off-again strategic rival of Besermark. Founded by refugees from the pre-Madurian Kallrixian state before their own subjugation, they see pretty much everyone except their coastal cousins as strategic enemies complicit in their historical oppression.


    Local Maps: Halfbridge maps of the Surface and the Undercity. These are pretty self-explanatory. The Undercity map doesn''t include the new refugee quarter, because I haven''t managed to summon the willpower to draw out another floor plan with hundreds of tiny houses for it.

 Book 3 Prologue

    ¡°You know, all I ever really wanted to do was water fields,¡± Uriah told the weird, goat-faced demon tiredly as it fruitlessly scrabbled for purchase in the bubble of water that kept it suspended in front of him. He felt empty inside, hollowed out. He knew he should be feeling something, but it was all too much. It wasn¡¯t supposed to be like this.


    The water boiled as the thing tried to conjure fire in its fist and sulfurous steam gurgled up, adding to the stench that hung thickly in the sewer tunnel. Uriah wasn¡¯t sure if demons actually needed to breathe in order to survive, and he didn¡¯t care. It was neutralized, and it was going to listen to what he had to say.


    ¡°It would have been a good job¡ªhonest work,¡± he went on. ¡°People need hydromancers out in the country. There¡¯s never enough help up north when there¡¯s a dry summer. And they can¡¯t pay well, see? You have to work hard. But it¡¯s rewarding. It¡¯s not about the money.¡±


    The demon opened its mouth to scream, and Uriah casually directed the water to force itself down into its lungs. It spasmed and its weird eyes rolled madly, but it kept trying to conjure hellfire, sending gouts of steam bubbling up out of the surface.


    ¡°When the third investiture didn¡¯t take right, I swallowed my pride and I went to the Underkeepers. See, you have to move a lot of water for irrigation. Can¡¯t work fast enough to make a living without the right augmentation. I made my peace. It wasn¡¯t a bad job either. Decent pay, good public service.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Uriah¡¯s jaw clenched in a sudden and barely controlled flash of rage so intense that his voice trembled with it. ¡°But then you showed up. You hellspawn and your filthy godsforsaken gray dwarves. And old Ed wanted us to fight you, but I¡­ I didn¡¯t want to get involved. No. I transferred here, to get away.¡±


    Uriah was crying now, breathing hard and voice wracked with heavy sobs. He knew that something inside him had broken. But it didn¡¯t matter. What could possibly still matter now?


    ¡°Honest work!¡± He bellowed at the now terrified creature. ¡°NO FIGHTING!¡±


    It came out as a deranged scream, and he punctuated his words by forcing the water down into the demon through its mouth and its weird, square-pupiled eyes, pushing and pushing until it burst like an overfilled sack.


    The bubble of water boiled furiously for a moment, but then it grew calm, except for the corpse that still spun lazily inside.


    Uriah knew dimly that he¡¯d lost it. But he didn¡¯t care anymore. No. It was all too much. Releasing the control cantrip numbly, he let the water and the corpse splash down and turned away.


    Still hyperventilating, he waded through the knee-high slurry of water, shit and blood that flowed through the sewers under the burning ruins of Loamfurth. He needed to get out. Out of these sewers and the city.


    He would make it across the river, and he would head east. East, toward Halfbridge. Ed had wanted to kill them.


    Uriah wanted to help.

 3.1 Departure

    Bernt carefully visualized the spellform for banefire in his mind¡¯s eye. It was a lot more difficult than tracing the spell out in the air in front of him, but he¡¯d been practicing. Still, it took more than ten seconds to be sure he wasn¡¯t leaving anything out of the intricate pattern. The spell was modeled after a simple fireball¡ªmost of it was just a fireball¡ªexcept that the portion of the spell that defined exactly what was to be burned was heinously complex.


    Behind him, porters sweated despite the chill air as they hauled goods out along the pier toward the riverboat that lay docked at the end. It was distracting, but there was no point in practicing combat magic in a quiet environment.


    The spell was still too slow to cast like this, but he would improve. Unlike a fireball, banefire burned on the essence of demons. Considering what he¡¯d been up against in the last few months, this was the spell he needed to master above all others. With an effort of will, Bernt channeled mana through his right hand, aiming down and flexing the branching pathways of the investiture that ran through the limb as he did to guide its flow. A missile of boiling gray flame shot out of his hand and splattered out onto the water in front of him, sending curls of steam up to join the low fog hanging over the river.


    The slow-moving current began to carry it away, and Bernt watched it intently. Five seconds. Ten. Still, the fire didn¡¯t go out. Finally.


    With an effort of will, Bernt dispersed the mana that made up the spell, extinguishing it. It worked! The banefire was sustaining itself with ambient mana. From now on, given time, he could turn an entire battlefield into a deathtrap for demons¡ªone that wouldn¡¯t burn his allies. At least until Jori got back. They would need to work out some kind of protection for her. Would regular clothes work? Banefire didn¡¯t scorch mundane materials, so maybe it was that simple¡­


    Concentrating, Bernt produced manaburn with his right hand and simultaneously cast a control cantrip with his left. He seized control of the white plasma as it manifested and drew it up into the air in front of him. Then he practiced reshaping it into a tiny wall, a thin line and a ball. The exercise was easy, but it might still help him develop his control a little.


    It was nothing like trying to manipulate a giant wall of flames had been. But still, every little bit helped.


    Bernt had learned first-hand what this simple cantrip could do in the right circumstances¡ªand with his perpetual flame investiture, he was in a better position to create those circumstances than most pyromancers ever would be. More importantly, he¡¯d seen what could happen if his control slipped, even for a moment. But this wasn¡¯t the place to test himself. He¡¯d need to find time to go outside the walls and do it at scale.


    Jori had been gone for over a week, but Bernt still felt lost. He wanted to act¡ªto get her back, or to help her do whatever she was doing over there, it didn¡¯t really matter. Just something. But there was nothing he could do that would make a difference. It was infuriating, but he¡¯d found it to be a powerful motivator as well.


    At the end of the day, Radast had pushed him around and banished Jori as he had because he could. Worse than that, it was probably the easiest choice available for him. Bernt wasn¡¯t a threat to him, either directly or politically, so he hadn¡¯t tried to find a way to make it work.


    Bernt couldn¡¯t change that now, but as long as he didn¡¯t have a better solution, he was going to make sure that the next time someone came for him or one of his friends, pushing him around wouldn¡¯t be the easy way out. He couldn¡¯t very well start setting Beseri citizens on fire, but growing more powerful with magic was the first step to building every kind of influence as a mage¡ªor a wizard.


    And right now, that meant practicing his spells and working out a way to finish his first augmentation. The thought sent a spike of worry worming its way through his belly. Would it even work, with his strange second investiture?


    Someone plopped down beside him, letting his legs dangle off the side of the pier.


    ¡°Morning,¡± Torvald said cheerfully. ¡°Coming to see Josie off, too?¡±


    Bernt grunted in the affirmative. He cast another banefire spell from his right hand, letting it splash onto the surface of the waters.


    ¡°She¡¯s going down to try to get Jori clearance to come back without a pact,¡± he explained. ¡°I can¡¯t come with her, but it seems ungrateful to not at least see her off.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Torvald said. ¡°I wish I could go see it. A few of my relatives in Teres invited me, actually, when they heard about the battle. They suggested I could meet the king, even. My parents want me to do it, but my resignation doesn¡¯t go into force for another two weeks, and I can¡¯t just go visiting family regardless. When I¡¯m free of my obligations here, I¡¯m going where the goddess leads.¡±


    Bernt stared. ¡°You don¡¯t know where, at all? And you already quit your job?¡±


    The paladin nodded. ¡°Comes with the territory¡ªit¡¯s about faith. Ruzinian pilgrims show up where they¡¯re needed. People don¡¯t have to come to us.¡±


    ¡°You know, I overheard your dad talking to Ed the day you signed up for the Underkeepers. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s going to take this very well. If I had to guess, I¡¯d say he was hoping to set you up with a nice, comfortable gig as his successor. You¡¯d probably do a better job, if you don¡¯t mind me saying.¡±


    Torvald¡¯s expression grew complicated. ¡°He didn¡¯t pick the job, you know. Wasn¡¯t trained for it, either. My grandfather on my mother¡¯s side put him here so he wouldn¡¯t embarrass him. He wanted to make sure that didn¡¯t happen to me.¡± He scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly. ¡°Anyway, he and I already had that talk when I joined the Temples to become an acolyte. He was probably hoping I¡¯d become a paladin to Noruk. There are lots of those in the military and Teres¡¯ crown guard commander is one as well. They¡¯re well-suited to it because¡ªyou know, war god.¡±


    ¡°And instead you¡¯re joining the legendary order of heroes. You know why they call them heroes, right?¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Because they tend to die,¡± Torvald said simply. ¡°I know. I still like them. It makes sense to me. It¡¯s what being a paladin is all about. As long as I align myself with Her will perfectly, I¡¯ll be unstoppable. The other side of that blessing is that I have to remain true to Her purpose, or I¡¯ll fail. I felt it, in the battle. We all make mistakes, but Ruzinian paladins tend to get into more difficult situations than most. We have a lot less room for error.¡±


    ¡°Just as long as you know what you¡¯re signing up for,¡± Bernt said a little doubtfully. He liked Torvald and he was going to be sad to see him go. Wanting to change the subject, Bernt looked up and around. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t she be here by now? The boat looks loaded up.¡±


    The porters had stopped hauling goods down the pier and most of the crates that had been piling up on the deck were gone¡ªstowed down below. Sure enough, when he looked back the other way, he spotted the warlock walking out toward them.


    She was alone. Bernt knew she had family in the city, but the one time Torvald had asked her about them when they were all working together she¡¯d been very cagey. He guessed they didn¡¯t approve of her choice of profession, or maybe she just wanted to protect them.


    After a moment she caught sight of them and waved. Torvald returned the gesture with a grin and Bernt nodded to her in greeting.


    ¡°Hey guys. What¡¯s up, are you planning to come and help me plead my case?¡±


    Bernt snorted. ¡°I doubt I¡¯d improve your chances. Torvald¡¯s word might carry some weight now, though. They¡¯re really going to send you down to try to handle the case on your own?¡±


    The Solicitor raised an eyebrow to him in challenge. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, think I can¡¯t handle it?¡± Then she shrugged in resignation. ¡°No, it¡¯s because Radast doesn¡¯t care if we win this one. It¡¯s generally in our interests to improve the legal position for demons in Besermark, but having Jori back here might not be. The deal we made with Jori is that I go and present her case, so that¡¯s what I¡¯m doing. Besides, I¡¯m representing the Underkeepers with this and suing the Solicitors Organization for interfering with a government employee in pursuit of her duties. I¡¯ve got a statement and an official complaint from Fiora to kick it off.¡±


    ¡°You got Fiora to help?¡± Bernt asked in surprise. Jori had developed a cordial relationship with many of the Underkeepers, but wouldn¡¯t have expected Fiora to go so far as to start a legal battle over Jori¡¯s rights.


    ¡°Sure I did,¡± Josie said. ¡°I want to win! Besides, Fiora was happy to help¡ªshe said that the Underkeepers didn¡¯t leave people behind. It¡¯s one of Ed¡¯s rules, or something. She was under his command in the army. Did you know that?.¡±


    Bernt nodded. ¡°Yeah, though I¡¯m kind of surprised. Ed always made it sound like he¡¯d kill Jori himself if she made a wrong move.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but she didn¡¯t, did she?¡± Josie replied with a shrug. ¡°She practically saved the city. The rumors that the Solicitors are spreading are exaggerated, but they¡¯re not really wrong.¡±


    Bernt grimaced at the reference to the heavily embellished rumors that the Solicitors had started spreading about Jori the day after the battle. He still didn¡¯t like it.


    ¡°They¡¯re wildly inaccurate,¡± he scoffed. ¡°Not to mention they take credit for Torvald¡¯s role in it.¡±


    Torvald shrugged magnanimously. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Everybody in the Temple District knows better, and the public rarely gets the facts, anyway. It wouldn¡¯t have worked out without Jori regardless.¡±


    Just then, a large, weathered-looking man stepped up to them and cleared his throat awkwardly.


    ¡°Miss Solicitor, Ma¡¯am? We¡¯re going to be casting off soon. Are you ready to board?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course. Sorry,¡± Josie said, flushing.


    ¡°Hold on!¡± Torvald interjected, fumbling at his pocket and producing a stick of incense. He held it out to Josie. ¡°Here, I wanted to give you this. You should light it at the shrine to Ruzinia in Teres. I prayed over it, and I think you¡¯re aligned well enough with her purpose that you might get her blessing. You took the case to help Ed, and he might be in the most hopeless situation I¡¯ve ever heard of. Jori¡¯s odds aren¡¯t really that great either, but I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯ll help.¡±


    Josie raised a very skeptical eyebrow, and for a moment Bernt thought she was going to argue with him again, but then she simply accepted the gift and stowed it in her robes.


    ¡°Thanks, Torvald.¡±


    Checking over her shoulder, Josie leaned toward Bernt and said, in a low voice. ¡°Keep in mind that Radast is going to be watching you, Bernt. He doesn¡¯t like you very much. Don¡¯t do anything stupid. Those rumors going around aren¡¯t going to hurt Jori. If the law fails, sometimes popularity is all you have left to lean on.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, she turned and hurried down toward the boat, leaving Bernt to consider what she¡¯d said in bewilderment. As she boarded, Torvald put a hand on Bernt¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± he said seriously, much to Bernt¡¯s surprise. ¡°You need to be careful. The Underkeepers are popular right now, but people like to turn on their heroes.¡±


    Bernt squinted at Torvald. ¡°Why would they do that? We saved the city. Twice now, actually. At this point, we deserve some respect for that, don¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± the paladin agreed. ¡°But, you should hear the whispers that are going around in the Temple District. There¡¯s a new power in town¡ªan organization of misfit mages that hired a bunch of heathens¡ªgoblins, a demon and at least one warlock to become a significant armed force inside the city. Within a couple of months, enemies invade the city and kill a bunch of people. Twice. And they came in right through the Underkeepers both times. Suspicious, right? If they weren¡¯t complicit, then surely they¡¯re dangerously incompetent.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s ridiculous!¡± Bernt spluttered. ¡°We fought the kobolds and the Duergar. People died! And the Duergar are threatening multiple cities, they didn¡¯t just attack us here.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t stop the street preachers from saying it. The Underkeepers are a challenge to the Temple District¡¯s influence in Halfbridge.¡± Torvald shook his head and frustration crept into his voice as he spoke. ¡°The temples were mostly too absorbed in their stupid political infighting before the battle, that¡¯s one of the reasons I went to join up in the first place. But that¡¯s over now¡ªthey ended up playing a supporting role in a fight against a demon lord! The Solicitors, the Underkeepers, you and Jori humiliated them by facing the demons head-on like that while they were playing back-up for the adventurers, the mages and the berserkers. Even the rangers arguably did more for the battle than the paladins. They didn¡¯t work together.¡±


    Bernt shook his head in disbelief. ¡°That¡¯s insane. They¡¯re jealous because they weren¡¯t the ones to defeat Nuros?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re still just people,¡± Torvald said. ¡±Now that it¡¯s over, some of the temples are trying to save face by giving me all the credit. It¡¯s not that different from what the Solicitors are doing with Jori, to be honest. Honestly, I¡¯ll be glad when Ruzinia calls me to go and leave all this behind me. But you should be careful. Take popular support where you can get it. If you contradict the stories about Jori too much, they¡¯ll use it against you and the Underkeepers as a whole.¡±

 3.2 New Normal

    Jori dove off of the outcropping over the steep river valley, letting the searing updraft carry her up high over the burning river. Flying was great!


    She¡¯d always hated scampering over the sharp rocks that covered the landscape here as a spawnling. It was slow, uncomfortable and dangerous. Ambush predators like fiends liked to hide in cracks to snatch young imps as they passed. By contrast, watching the gray and black landscape pass by underneath her felt indescribably liberating.


    Too bad she couldn¡¯t really enjoy it. She was in a race against time.


    It was hard to tell time precisely, here in the hells, but she thought it must have been at least a week since she¡¯d set out to find Ed. The pouch was small enough to strap to her back without interfering with her wings, but she knew it was much bigger on the inside. It was like Bernt¡¯s bag, except this one was full of tasty food for the Great Mage. That, and some spicy jerky and wraps for her. The jerky wasn¡¯t really the right kind, but they¡¯d tried. It was good enough.


    She banked right to follow the course of the river and found a vast plain stretching out in front of her. In the distance, high walls rose from the black, stony ground¡ªVaradon. The hellfire river terminated there, flowing into the enormous structure and disappearing.


    The entire city¡­ wriggled. Jori shuddered in disgust. That was just wrong. This was supposed to be where Varamemnon lived. She guessed that those were his limbs. His servants would be in the city, or somewhere nearby.


    This was where things would become more dangerous. She would need to find out where exactly Ed was, and that meant asking questions. Jori had never tried to infiltrate a demon city before. She was very sneaky compared to mortals, sure, but would that work here? She had her doubts.


    Fortunately, Ed was not a sneaky person. A piece of the wall, just left of her approach, was missing. A massive web of cracks radiated out from the damaged section and the entire area was covered in rubble. The stub of a gigantic tentacle waved back and forth crazily nearby, healed, but obviously no longer whole.


    Behind the hole lay a path of destruction, cut indiscriminately through a combination of stone and oddly organic structures¡ªlikely grown from the alien flesh of Varamemnon himself, if Jori didn¡¯t miss her guess.


    The imp knew intellectually that this, the third hell, was her home, in a sense. She came from a place like this, and this enormous monster was the sort of thing she herself could transform into one day ¨C assuming that she somehow lost her mind and all sense of good taste along the way, anyway. She would never understand why someone would root themselves into the ground like this. And why all the tentacles? Ick!


    Well. At least she knew where to start looking. Now she just had to hope they hadn¡¯t killed him already.


    ***


    ¡°I can¡¯t figure out what this means for my architecture.¡± Bernt said, rubbing at his face in frustration. ¡°If I just go ahead with the next investiture as normal, it might not fuse into an augmentation. On the other hand, maybe it will, and my entire mana network will fuse into my body like the perpetual flame did. Or maybe it¡¯ll work perfectly and I¡¯m just overreacting. What am I supposed to do?¡±


    Pollock leaned back in his chair and scratched at his beard, mulling it over.


    Bernt had decided to work on his development and growing reputation as a wizard. After all, he¡¯d come up with a way to fix spiritual damage¡ªeven if no one was using it. That, and he¡¯d developed banefire. Unlike his other contribution, the Duergar invasion had made his banefire spell very relevant to the defense of the realm. Mages all over the country were learning it, and if he¡¯d understood Iriala right, there was a bureaucratic process underway now to add it to the standard repertoire of military pyromancers.


    That meant that quite a few mages might recognize his name now, but it wouldn¡¯t translate to anything like influence or power unless he could build on that notoriety. Lots of wizards invented useful spells. Unfortunately, though, most didn¡¯t grow into influential or powerful figures. For Bernt, power had always been part of the goal¡ªa great adventurer had to be powerful. But, it had felt a lot more abstract until now. Now, he needed it, and not just the direct, flaming kind of power. Unfortunately, when he¡¯d tried to work out his next steps, he¡¯d run into a wall almost immediately.


    How could he plan for his next investiture if he had no way to predict what would happen? He had an architecture to work from, but no guarantee that it would work. The last material ¨C a magical tar produced by firing and distilling Illurian salt-water cedar ¨C didn¡¯t feel right anymore. He didn¡¯t need his flames to be more waterproof or to burn hotter. If anything, he should be looking for something more compatible ¨C but what was compatible with a sorcerous investiture? It was intensely frustrating.


    In the past, he might have spent weeks or months speculating and trying to work out ways to test his mana network to find an answer. Of course, he might still have to do that, but he¡¯d learned that sometimes, it was better to ask someone with more experience first.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re going to accidentally fuse the rest of your mana network.¡± Pollock finally said, shaking his head. ¡°That was a result of treating your channels with your hellfire derivative, no other part of your mana network was affected, and it¡¯s not as though they¡¯re disconnected from each other. If it were going to spread to your other channels, it would have done so immediately.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Bernt nodded slowly. ¡°That makes sense. But what if I can¡¯t get the three investitures to fuse?¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Pollock shrugged lightly and smiled, a glint in his eye. ¡°If it doesn¡¯t work, you can just get another normal investiture to make three that can fuse into an augmentation! From there, I suppose you would need to try to expand your sorcerous investiture if you want to become an archwizard.¡±


    Bernt frowned skeptically. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that make all my non-fire spells weaker, though? Relatively speaking, I mean. I worked out how to cast a few normal cantrips with my right hand a few days ago, but it¡¯s extremely slow, and I have to close off practically all of that part of my mana network to do it. It reduces the amount of mana I can channel.¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, relatively speaking, I suppose.¡± Pollock conceded. ¡°But think about it! Sorcerers are supposed to grow their mana networks to form new abilities. You wouldn¡¯t need to find materials to infuse into your soul. That might deprive you of the reinforcing effect of a traditional investiture, but you also wouldn¡¯t need to worry about compatibility! Your spirit is naturally going to be compatible with itself. Just consider what that means!¡±


    That¡­ had not occurred to Bernt. He cocked his head to the side. ¡°Wait. You¡¯re saying that I wouldn''t get stuck? If I don¡¯t have compatibility issues, then I won¡¯t have to stop growing.¡±


    ¡°Yes! That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying." Pollock gave him a pained smile. ¡°Most of us stall like that." He pointed to his sleeve, which was circled by the braided pattern that marked him as a magister and two simple stripes behind it. "I had to stop at five. Reaching magister as a wizard is an achievement¡ªit¡¯s why we actually use the title. Archwizards are very rare. You might be weaker than a normal archmage or archwizard, and probably a little less flexible. But you¡¯d be completely unique.¡±


    ¡°And it would validate my hellfire derivative as a viable treatment for mana network damage.¡± Bernt added thoughtfully. ¡°But the best case would still be if I can get the augmentation to form normally, with the sorcerous investiture. It should make it much easier to use, since it would consider the other investitures a part of itself. The spellforms would almost certainly come out a lot cleaner, even if I still have to manipulate the investiture manually like I¡¯m doing now.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Pollock allowed. ¡°But I doubt it will work.¡± He rubbed at his face. ¡°I suppose you could improve your chances a bit, maybe. If you can find some kind of bridge-material... something that is inherently related to sorcery somehow. A phoenix feather, or something else that¡¯s very spiritually stable and highly compatible with fire.¡±


    Phoenix feathers were not the sort of thing a no-account Underkeeper¡ªor even your average archmage¡ªcould get their hands on. But it was a lot more information than he¡¯d had when he came in. Bernt rose and thanked the wizard for his help.


    He¡¯d need to visit Hallan at the library soon. Maybe his old classmate would have more resources about different pyromancer materials. He wished he could go right now, but he needed to get to work. His shift was starting in a half-hour.


    ***


    ¡°Hey! There¡¯s not enough food down here! You can¡¯t expect people to behave with no work and on an empty stomach. The count needs to send supplies down or find work to get them out of here and earning some money.¡±


    The middle aged woman had come out of one of the rough, unfinished units in the new ¡°Refugee Quarter¡±¡ªthe massive new neighborhood built by Kustov and Janus in the days before the battle. She was looking at him expectantly, as if she held him personally responsible for the situation here, and expected him to solve it immediately.


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am, we¡¯re aware of the problem,¡± Bernt replied as patiently as he could manage. ¡°Our priority is still just keeping everybody out of the cold.¡±


    ¡°Well, tell the count that people down here are hungry! They¡¯re starting to get into fights and stealing from the rich folks on the plaza.¡±


    Bernt swallowed down his irritation. He was supposed to be on his way right now to ¡°look into¡± exactly such an incident at an address on the "plaza", as they called the large square cavern at the center of the new neighborhood. The homes set into the walls of the space were ideal for use as shops and crafting spaces. Many of the city¡¯s crafters¡ªmostly the non-dwarves who didn¡¯t settle in the Crafters¡¯ Quarter¡ªhad moved in here.


    Not that he was going to actually do anything. They didn¡¯t have the time or the manpower to worry about petty theft. He was just here to offer people a sense of order.


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am, I¡¯ll put it in my report. I¡¯m sure the count will take care of it as soon as he can.¡±


    Bernt hated doing patrols here. The inhabitants were an odd mix of refugees from the Lower District and the Crafters¡¯ District. Rather, they went to great pains not to mix. While they¡¯d all lost their homes, their circumstances were very different overall. Crafters usually had savings at the bank¡ªmoney to buy food, to fix up their new quarters and to buy the tools and supplies they needed to get back to work and move on with their lives.


    The section of the Lower District that had burned down¡ªthe neighborhood near the docks, where Bernt had lived before moving here¡ªwasn¡¯t like that. They were mostly laborers, and not always of the most reputable variety. They¡¯d come down here with nothing to their name, and they had nowhere to go. It was late autumn, and there wasn¡¯t as much paid work to be had as there might have been a month or two earlier. The fields outside the city were bare and river traffic had already slowed.


    Now, they¡¯d moved into the peripheral tunnels of the refugee quarter, and the situation was getting worse as people ran out of food. They really would need to do something soon¡ªbut that was above Bernt¡¯s pay grade. That was the government¡¯s job, or maybe they¡¯d end up thrusting it on Fiora.


    Disentangling himself from the pushy woman, Bernt made his way down the street and did his best to ignore the unfriendly stares of hungry-looking men and women.


    Within a minute, he was walking into the large new cavern¡ªnearly half as big as the Undercity Market. Bernt homed in on the address he¡¯d been given and made his way across. It was a large unit, with a brand new wooden door and a sign that read ¡°Fallan¡¯s Fabrics.¡± He could hear a voice ranting on the other side of the door.


    ¡°What were they thinking, letting those filthy dock rats in where people are trying to rebuild their lives?! And now they want to send us Underkeepers to keep the peace. Underkeepers! Where is the City Guard in all this? Bad enough that they let an enemy army overrun half the city. What did the count think was going to happen when they outsourced the defense of the city to sewer workers! I mean, honestly, who does that?¡±


    Taking a deep breath, Bernt let it out and knocked. It was going to be a long day.

 3.3 Interrogation

    Iriala tossed her notes down on her small writing desk in disgust and paced around the cell, watching her prisoner. She¡¯d interviewed the Duergar abjurer twice more since the first time, and the picture that had emerged was as bleak as it was bizarre.


    ¡°So, once again, from the beginning. Tell me if I¡¯ve got this right,¡± she began, her interpreter repeating the words in Duergar as she spoke in a now well-practiced routine. ¡°Your king, Grundrik, housed a powerful demon, Nuros, in the body of his son in exchange for power. Deciding that wasn¡¯t enough, he has since fed the demon all the souls he could get his hands on. And when he ran out of soft targets down below, he decided to head toward the surface next.¡± She waited for Enki to finish and the Duergar mage to nod before continuing. ¡°Alright. And you knew that he was also feeding it the souls of your people. Everybody knew.¡±


    Another nod.


    ¡°And they¡¯re¡­ fine with it?¡±


    As Enki translated, the Duergar, whose name was Yirik, frowned and then shrugged. ¡°Every day, a stone falls from above.¡±


    Iriala blinked at the bizarre idiom and looked over to Enki, prompting the dwarf to translate. She understood a lot of Duergar words¡ªbut that didn¡¯t mean she understood what the hells they were saying.


    ¡°It means something like ¡®that¡¯s life¡¯. Bad things are expected. Duergar are very fatalistic. It¡¯s not that nobody cares, they just don''t expect anything better. For good reason, most likely. I can¡¯t imagine that someone like this Grundrik rules with a light touch.¡±


    That was an understatement if Iriala had ever heard one. But they were getting off track. Yirik was lying to her. He¡¯d explicitly said, and just confirmed again, that his king Grundrik was looking for soft targets. A surface city might technically qualify, considering how difficult it was to adequately protect a population from subterranean threats. But she knew the Duergar hadn¡¯t come looking for Halfbridge. They¡¯d met inside the kobold warren, and both parties had been trying to bring down Conperion¡¯s lair ¨C targets didn¡¯t get any less soft than that. Even if the kobolds were probably an easy source of souls, he had to know that taking a poke at a dragon was playing with fire.


    Now that she thought about it, the wily old lizard had gotten away clean and effectively dumped this problem in their laps! He was probably laughing at them, wherever he''d slunk off to.


    Iriala paced around the stoic Duergar, considering what she¡¯d learned. Why lie? Why lie about this?


    ¡°He¡¯s trying to hide what he¡¯s doing with the demons!¡± she concluded out loud. ¡°At least for a little while. This isn''t about soft targets, it¡¯s about discretion.¡±


    Enki looked at her with a puzzled expression and opened her mouth to translate for the prisoner, but Iriala waved at her to stop. ¡°He said that Grundrik only rules a small part of the Duergar Empire. Think about it. Why fight a war against a dragon and his inexhaustible horde of kobolds? Why try to destroy the first city you find when you reach the surface? It¡¯s needlessly reckless and frankly unnecessary if Grundrik already had the entire might of the empire behind him. The Duergar have never attempted to seize surface territory before ¨C why would they? We''ve never been a threat to them, and they don¡¯t even like it here.¡±


    It was obvious, now that she considered it. The Duergar prisoners who¡¯d been tasked with rebuilding the Crafters¡¯ District had suffered terrible sunburns on every inch of exposed skin, despite the gloomy winter weather. A few had even started to temporarily lose their vision. It was so bad that the magistrate had begun exclusively working them at night after a few days.


    ¡°They must have plenty of enemies in the Depths that they could target instead of us. It would be like orcs going to the bottom of the ocean to slaughter the merpeople. So why come up here to kill our people? It¡¯s because the rest of the Duergar Empire isn¡¯t watching the surface. They don¡¯t care about us, and they won¡¯t notice if a city or three go missing. Not until Grundrik has his greater demon. At that point, he can leverage it down below, to seize power inside the Empire.¡±


    Enki blinked at her, considering. Then she nodded. ¡°Alright. You want me to check?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I want to see his reaction. Don¡¯t accuse him of lying, just ask him why Grundrik is trying to hide his demon from their Imperial Council.¡±


    Yirik was a skilled abjurer, but at the end of the day he was just a grunt. He didn¡¯t really understand politics, and as it turned out, he wasn¡¯t a very good liar.


    ¡°Grundrik hides nothing!¡± he blustered unconvincingly. ¡°He raises Norus for the glory of all Duergar. His peers stand in awe of his might, and our enemies quake in terror!¡±


    Iriala snorted. Grundrik''s fellow vassal kings might not pay much attention to what occurred up on the surface, but she seriously doubted they wouldn''t recognize the threat Grundrik represented if they were aware of it.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    The late Madurian emperors had tried to bind demon lords and greater demons to their service, compensating them with the souls of their enemies. When those ran out, they pivoted to troublesome minorities, and then their most unruly towns. Millions had died, their souls devoured. It was this that had finally gotten the gods involved.


    All of the gods saved souls from among their faithful, and none would abide poachers. When priests began to preach against the emperor¡¯s blasphemy, they pushed out the temples and tried to banish their own gods from the holy city of Mahat¡¯Ur. They drove the priests into hiding high up into the Sacral Peaks above the Phoenix Reaches, where the great temples still sat today.


    Four of the gods¡ªEyeli, Balarian, Ruzinia and Noruk¡ªhad unmade the eldritch abominations that propped up the empire¡¯s might and left the imperial family and their Circle of Nine to the tender mercies of their own populace. Their temples led the people in the revolt, and the religious order they jointly founded afterward ¨C the Invigilation ¨C brutally suppressed the practice of demon-summoning in the former empire for centuries afterward, continuing to function even as the newly liberated empire collapsed into chaos.


    Even if the Duergar had, by some miracle, missed the rise and fall of the Madurian Empire, they had to have gods of their own who would balk at Nuros'' actions in their domain. She couldn''t know with absolute certainty, of course. The Duergar had always been very closed off¡ªthat was why there were no clear maps of their empire, no detailed accounts of their history, or much information about their internal politics. Iriala had checked. But they were an ancient people, even older than the dwarven city states. Imperial records mentioned encounters with Duergar over a millennium ago, and they were described as a large and powerful nation, even then.


    So, that begged the question: What would the Imperial Council do if they knew exactly what their errant vassal was up to?


    ¡°Where, exactly, is the larger Duergar Empire ruled from?¡± she asked. ¡°How far away is it? Can we make contact?¡±


    Yirik shook his head when he heard the question and gave a short, negative reply. Enki asked him a follow-up question on her own, and it took a few rounds of clarification before the dwarf finally turned back to Iriala.


    ¡°He can¡¯t really point to it on one of our maps¡ªhe doesn¡¯t know the surface geography since their borders don¡¯t extend that far. Another problem is that it¡¯s down just as much as it is any horizontal distance¡ªthe Duergar Empire is three-dimensional. He says he could reach the border to the ¡°Seat of Molten Stone¡± territory on foot in about a month.¡±


    That had to be an exaggeration. Most of that would still be horizontal distance, no matter what the prisoner said. Duergar seemed to be heat-resistant, sure, but she doubted even they could live much more than a league or two beneath the surface. Even if their territories were stacked on top of one another in layers, it didn¡¯t really have to go that far down to accommodate enough of them to dwarf the former Madurian Empire in total size. Assuming normal conditions, that made maybe a hundred and fifty leagues.


    Unfortunately, that presented a new problem. They would have to send a delegation outside of Besermark¡¯s borders, and Iriala wasn''t so sure that she could get the count to support that kind of move. He wouldn''t just have to get approval from the king, but also from whoever else''s territory they would have to pass through. As if this mess wasn¡¯t already complicated enough.


    Iriala sighed and scribbled down a few notes. There was nothing for it. She needed more and better information than she could get from Yirik. It was time to get help. Sighing to herself, she got up and collected her papers.


    ¡°Enki, please go over to the scryers¡¯ office and ask them to relay a message to the Dwarven Confederation embassy on behalf of the Mages¡¯ Guild. I¡¯d like to formally request any intelligence they have, even historical, on the borders of the Duergar Empire and its internal political structure. Based on what we¡¯ve heard from Yirik here, our own records are either outdated or outright fabricated.¡±


    Enki grimaced slightly, tilting her head to the side. ¡°Are you sure? The City States are pretty paranoid, generally speaking. They might think that¡¯s just an excuse to try to build a better picture of where they are in the depths.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure. There¡¯s no way they haven¡¯t heard what happened here by now. They know we have a legitimate interest in this information, and it¡¯s not like they¡¯re friends with the Duergar, right?¡±


    ¡°I suppose.¡± Enki said reluctantly as she rose. Beseri dwarves didn¡¯t get along very well with their cousins in the Confederacy of Dwarven City States, but Iriala didn''t have time to indulge minor ethnic rivalries right now.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that.¡± Iriala said grumpily. ¡°You¡¯ve got the easy part. I¡¯m the one who has to go and present this to the count to try to convince him to do something. It¡¯s not going to be easy with Arice pressuring him to declare victory so he can go home to play court politics as a war hero."


    Iriala was halfway up to her office, trying to formulate an argument to drive the potential gravity of the larger situation home to the count, when a familiar voice called out from behind her.


    ¡°Archmage Iriala, urgent message!¡± It was Nole, breathing hard as he ran up the stairs behind her. She stopped and waited for him.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°The scryers," he began, catching his breath. "Correspondence with Loamfurth was interrupted this morning. They assumed it was either a natural phenomenon, or perhaps interference from the Duergar again. They started out scrying the Depths locally, checking for another army, but there was nothing there.¡±


    Nole paused, and Iriala raised her eyebrows at him. ¡°I assume that¡¯s not the news?¡±


    ¡°No, archmage,¡± he continued, flustered. ¡°When the afternoon shift arrived a few minutes ago, they decided to try a long-distance far-seeing spell¡ªall of them together.¡± He swallowed, nervously glancing to the side, as if struggling to choose his words. ¡°Archmage, Loamfurth is burning. The whole city. No signs of resistance remaining.¡±


    Iriala stared at Nole for a moment, uncomprehending. Loamfurth was one of the largest cities in Besermark, with a population of nearly fifty-thousand people. The Duergar had continued to conduct raids on Beseri towns and cities even after their defeat at Halfbridge, but Loamfurth hadn¡¯t seen anything like the siege here. The city¡¯s scryers had estimated there to be no more than a few hundred Duergar hiding in the Depths. There was no way they should have been able to threaten such a large and well-defended stronghold.


    Evidently, they¡¯d been wrong.

 3.4 Look on Ye Mighty and Despair

    ¡°So, do you think she¡¯s going to pull it off?¡± Nirlig asked as he took a sip of the pungent, earthy-tasting beer that he¡¯d brought over. Bernt turned from his stone hearth and held out a plate for him¡ªfish, potatoes and cabbage. The goblin accepted with his crippled, three-fingered hand and dug in.


    The quality of the food available had improved some since the siege had broken, though the prices were still high. Fortunately, Bernt¡¯s financial situation had improved a bit, since he¡¯d had the presence of mind to participate in looting Duergar corpses after the battle, despite everything that had happened.


    ¡°Josie¡¯s smart,¡± he said, shrugging as he sat down opposite the goblin on a stone seat in front of his coffee table¡ªessentially just another rectangle of magically-shaped stone. ¡°It could work. She told me if the crown accepts Jori¡¯s employment contract as valid, then she has a pretty good case. Most likely, the Solicitors¡¯ Office in Teres will argue that it isn¡¯t. As an extraplanar entity, Jori isn¡¯t technically classified as a person, so she can¡¯t really enter into legal contracts. On the other hand, there¡¯s no law that says she isn¡¯t a person, either.¡±


    Nirlig scoffed and rolled his eyes as he shoveled food into his mouth. ¡°Insane. Do they even hear themselves? Honestly! Only humans would argue about who¡¯s a person.¡±


    ¡°A legal person.¡± Bernt clarified. ¡°It¡¯s not the same thing.¡±


    To be honest, Bernt thought it was a stupid, hair-splitting argument to have, too. But Josie had been adamant that the distinction was important. Governments had to draw a line somewhere, or something.


    ¡°Oh, I know.¡± Nirlig said darkly. ¡°Vael Dirin was a dungeon until the accords were signed, you know. My dad wasn¡¯t a legal person until he was about my age.¡±


    Bernt did know that. In fact, most people here in the city still called it ¡®Goblins¡¯ Delve¡¯. All of the major goblin settlements that had been folded into the country during the accords had two names. Goblins used their endonyms while most ¡°traditional¡± Beseris continued to call them by whatever names the Adventurers¡¯ Guild had given the various dungeons over centuries of raiding.


    ¡°Well,¡± Bernt said, ¡°let¡¯s hope it doesn¡¯t take them centuries to make the right decision, this time.¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± Nirlig said, cracking a sardonic smile. ¡°They signed the Kallrixian Accords because they didn¡¯t have a choice. ¡°Rightness¡± had nothing to do with it. Jori doesn¡¯t have an entire country backing her claim.¡±


    ¡°Yea, well. We¡¯ll just have to trust Josie.¡± Bernt said, grimacing. He didn¡¯t want to hang all his hopes on her, but it was probably for the best if people thought he did. Josie had warned him that the Solicitors would be watching him.


    ¡°Did you hear that Fiora opened up recruitment again?¡± he asked, changing the subject.


    The conversation turned to work as they finished their meal, and Nirlig excused himself soon after, no doubt sensing Bernt¡¯s subdued mood.


    When he was finally alone, Bernt cast several more torch spells to banish any shadows in the room. He doubted that Radast¡ªor his shade¡ªcould spend all his time monitoring him, but a bit of paranoia now might save him a lot of trouble later.


    He pulled a book down off of a stone shelf on the far wall and flipped it open, setting it down on the table. The ¡°Summoners¡¯ Guide to Elementals¡± described various kinds of elementals in detail, as well as the various methods that could be used to bind one into service. Most importantly, it also included methods for summoning, though Bernt was losing hope that they would be directly useful.


    That wasn¡¯t to say that he hadn¡¯t learned anything, of course. He¡¯d spent days poring over the book, trying to grasp not just the text, but the underlying theories that it referred to.


    Elemental summoning was apparently relatively simple, if not exactly easy. A simple rune circle could pierce the veil, though it had to be drawn using an appropriate material that resonated with the target plane. That alone wasn¡¯t enough, though. The inscribed pebble Bernt had in his bag could open a portal to the elemental plane of fire, but it wasn¡¯t stable. It wouldn¡¯t contain the energies on the other side properly, and it would collapse a fraction of a second after opening.


    To actually summon something from an elemental plane, the portal needed to be properly stabilized and keyed to allow only a certain kind of entity to move through it. And once that was done, the summoner still needed to find a way to draw whatever they were hoping to bind to the portal.


    It was all very fascinating, but the problem was that the diagram describing a complete summoning ritual looked nothing like what Bernt had seen in the warlocks¡¯ ritual chamber when they¡¯d summoned Jori. It was made up of three concentric rune circles, each with a different function. Critically, none of these circles affected the stability of the portal. To stabilize a portal, the summoner needed to place it at a natural confluence point¡ªwhere an elemental plane¡¯s influence bled into the material realm.


    As far as Bernt knew, these kinds of confluences were unique to the elemental planes. The hells simply didn¡¯t intersect with the mortal world ¨C at least not in the same way. That was almost certainly why the Solicitors couldn¡¯t simply open a portal to the hells for Ed to come back through¡ªthere was no appropriate place to make one.


    All of this information led to the same conclusion. While demon summoning might be a part of the same school of ritual magic, the process warlocks used was completely different than the one described here. And he still had no idea where to start.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Frustrated, Bernt flipped back to the section on fire elementals. Each one came with an illustration, a short description and a sequence of five runes that could be used to key a stable portal to the pictured entity. The first was something that just looked like a simple candle flame, labeled a ¡°Lesser Flame Sprite¡±, but it quickly got more interesting from there. Bernt skimmed through the list, reading the descriptions. There were quite a few different types, and they weren¡¯t purely fire, either. There was a spinning pillar of flame called a Fire Whirl, a snake made of liquid flame, a tree with flames in place of leaves, and an odd golem-like humanoid that appeared to be made of molten rock.


    Fire elementals would be a fascinating topic to study, if he could. How did they manipulate their energies? Would they have some kind of mana network, or were they directly made of mana? Would it work like sorcery, or was it another, completely different branch of magic?


    In the end, though, it didn¡¯t matter. The nearest confluence with the elemental plane of fire¡ªand the only one that Bernt knew of¡ªwas the Phoenix Reaches, nearly a month¡¯s travel away and under the control of a foreign country.


    ***


    Ed blinked his eyes against the bright light in front of him as clarity returned to his mind. The creepy demon that had been keeping him contained was still leaving, but he wasn¡¯t quite sharp enough to start casting yet.


    The archmage couldn¡¯t quite remember how he¡¯d gotten here, but he knew he was thirsty. Patting at his robes, he fished out his old tin cup and stared at it dumbly for a second.


    Then, pulling his wits together, he laboriously conjured water into it, drained it, and repeated the process over again.


    Feeling a bit more sane, he looked around, doing his best to ignore the hollow emptiness in his belly. How long had it been since he¡¯d eaten something?


    He was standing on bare basalt, surrounded by a high stone wall in an oval shape. Above it were stands, packed with demons large and small. He was standing in some kind of ridiculous arena.


    Shit. Did demons have blood sports? Whatever the hells for?


    ¡°Serve, mortal, and you will be granted sustenance,¡± a voice said from nearby, and Ed jumped. He whirled to find a man-sized tentacle wriggling behind him where it had apparently burst from the stone at some point before he¡¯d regained his senses. The damned thing had a mouth.


    ¡°Pass,¡± he replied, scowling furiously, and clapped his hands together sharply, instantly channeling a spellform in front of himself as he did. The hand gesture was a mnemonic device¡ªand one he didn¡¯t really need¡ªbut old habits die hard. The tentacle exploded messily, spattering black blood and worse all over.


    If there was one thing Ed liked about getting dumped into a literal hellhole, it was that he didn¡¯t have to worry about collateral damage.


    Drawing on both his augmentations, Ed manifested an otherwise very simple spellform and cleaned it up to produce the effect he wanted with speed and efficiency honed over decades. For an archmage, he had a relatively simple architecture¡ªa favorite for the military. It combined a classic military force build with a more advanced sonomancer¡¯s architecture. The result was a tightly focused and extremely internally compatible build that excelled at exactly one thing¡ªbreaking things.


    He activated the spell, and saw the air warp in front of him as it manifested with a deafening rattle that stole his breath, even though it was pointed away from him.


    The wall in front of him shook and cracked. Then it started to sag. The Demons in that section of the stands fared no better. Ed couldn¡¯t see them very well¡ªhe didn¡¯t have a good angle¡ªbut he heard the screams. He knew what that spell did to regular folks. Demons were a lot tougher, but he imagined that they wouldn¡¯t enjoy bleeding from their brains much, either.


    ¡°Servants of Druz¡¯erub,¡± a colossal voice boomed out over the screams, ¡°a servant of servants, who dared to turn her hand against Varamemnon¡ªking of kings. She ,whose fidelity crumbled under the first whispers of K¡¯Thanizar, the skulking, forked-tongued deceiver, soiled my treasures with her unworthy hands. Today, her life is forfeit, and yours with it. See the fate that lies before you!¡±


    Ed stopped, unsure what was happening. Or rather, he could guess what was happening¡ªhe just wasn¡¯t sure what to do about it. Varamemnon was using him as some kind of cat¡¯s paw. Like when ancient kings would toss their prisoners into a den of lions. Except, if he understood this right, he was the lion in this scenario.


    Why? Couldn¡¯t the demon king take out his own trash?


    A section of the rock wall on the far side of the arena moved. Light glinted in the darkness beyond for a split second, then something large came hurtling out. Ed raised his hands, ready to fight. But his opponent wasn¡¯t coming at him¡ªshe had been thrown. The creature hit the ground hard and rolled, the delicate bones of her wings breaking audibly.


    He held back for a moment. Dissension in Varamemnon¡¯s ranks wasn¡¯t really a problem for him. Should he really be killing this one for him? She was smaller than he would have expected from some kind of demon lord. Or lady.


    When she got up, Ed¡¯s blood froze. She was tall and proportioned almost like a human. Uncannily so, actually, except¡­ uh¡­ exaggerated. If that wasn¡¯t obvious enough, the vestigial wings and deep, too-large black eyes gave it away. Druz¡¯erub was a succubus.


    Well, shit.


    Hurriedly, Ed sent a magic missile arcing toward her, even as he backed away. He couldn¡¯t afford to let her get close. She had to be, what, class four, maybe five? Never mind physical contact, he needed to avoid even smelling her or he was dead.


    The demon dodged the first attack, but bounced off of the force shield he¡¯d raised right in front of her a moment later. Furiously, she tried to first feel around it, then she simply jumped over it, clearing the ten-foot high barrier easily. She was coming at him now, but the delay had given Ed the second he needed to think of a solution.


    The mage hand cantrip activated, and invisible force clamped down around the creature, holding it in place. Ed tried to simply crush her, but the damned thing was too strong. She screamed so loud his ears rang, and the crowd up above answered. Clenching his jaw furiously, the archmage followed up with a magic missile so dense that it looked like a solid object ¨C appropriately so. The succubus¡¯ head nearly came off, and what was left wasn¡¯t head-shaped anymore.


    Ed looked away. He already had enough nightmare fuel to give his nightmares nightmares. Absentmindedly, he patted at his robes. Where was his pipe? He needed a smoke right now.


    ¡°Look on, and see what befalls those who would raise their hand against me.¡± Varamemnon¡¯s voice rumbled. ¡°See Druz¡¯erub, who was slain by mortal cattle. Weep, you who were servants of one who was slain by cattle, and beg for the magnanimity of Varamemnon.¡±


    Something hit Ed in the back of the head, and he stumbled forward, falling to one knee. What was that? Where¡ª?

 3.5 Deus Vult

    Iriala rose from her seat, casting her gaze around at all those assembled and willing them to get their godsforsaken heads out of their asses, just this once. Word had gotten around quickly among all those who mattered last night, of course, but she could tell that most of the people here hadn¡¯t come looking to make themselves useful. That it had taken nearly a full day to organize this meeting was testament to the fact that no one here was planning to do anything to handle the situation.


    General Arice was eyeing the door as if he couldn¡¯t wait to get out of here and make all this someone else¡¯s problem. Now that he could take credit for saving Halfbridge from a major assault, he was ready to retire back to life at court in Teres. In his mind, losing an entire city to a similar assault only made his own supposed achievement shine brighter.


    Count Narald and Gerold, the magistrate, were focused on Halfbridge¡¯s coffers ¨C trying to work out how to get through the winter and feed the thousands of refugees that would be coming down the road in the next week or two. They were already stretched thin in the aftermath of the siege.


    The guilds were still reeling from the battle. They¡¯d suffered losses, and none were eager to put more of their members at risk. It really only left her with one option ¨C the one she¡¯d spent her entire career avoiding.


    ¡°Loamfurth has fallen,¡± she began, sticking to the facts, first. ¡°My scryers have spent hours examining the aftermath, and agree that the forces involved are at least equal in number to those seen here in Halfbridge. Duergar and demons were seen sweeping through the streets in large groups as recently as an hour ago, rooting out any survivors who didn¡¯t manage to escape. They made no attempt to block our scrying attempts.¡±


    ¡°How many Duergar, exactly?¡± Arice said in a carefully polite tone that still managed to suggest that she was exaggerating. Several of the nobles began to whisper amongst themselves, but Iriala ignored both them and Arice and forged ahead.


    ¡°Judging by the number of refugees sighted on the roads, we estimate that Nuros, the demon lord we believe to be responsible for this aggression, could have captured and consumed as many as thirty thousand souls. The exact numbers would depend on the type and placement of the soulstone used, and how quickly they managed to set it up.¡±


    The blunt pronouncement was met with dead silence.


    ¡°Thirty thousand?!¡± Arice spluttered. ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous! Impossible!¡±


    He was right, technically. Even if the soulstone had been at the very center of the city, and they managed to put it up immediately after starting the assault, she doubted that they would have captured even ten thousand. All magic had limits, and that included the capacity of the soulstones themselves ¨C never mind their range and the speed at which people would run away from a horde of demons pouring into their streets. Ten thousand was bad enough, in her estimation, but Iriala needed to maximize the shock factor for this meeting. She needed to provoke a response from the temples.


    ¡°Chief Solicitor Radast warned us a month ago in this very room that the Duergar are attempting to create and instrumentalize a greater demon,¡± she continued, not bothering to reply to the general. ¡°While they mostly failed here, we must assume that they have now succeeded at Loamfurth.¡±


    Nervous chatter erupted all over the room. Several of the attendees tried to call out questions, including Arice, but Iriala couldn¡¯t make them out. Narald, for his part, was silent. He sat back in his chair, gray-faced and looking as though he¡¯d aged a decade in the space of a few seconds.


    Iriala, focused her gaze to the right side of the room, where the clergy were assembled. There were six of them, three priests and three paladins. She¡¯d expected them to say something at this point, but they remained silent. With a bit of effort and a discreet hand-motion, she cast a cantrip to amplify her voice.


    ¡°There are some better news as well! As I¡¯m sure General Arice¡¯s own interrogators will corroborate, we are not the only ones who may take issue with our enemy¡¯s actions. In fact, these Duergar, and the demons they are working to empower, likely only see us as a resource to help them fuel a larger conflict ¨C a civil war against greater powers within their own empire.¡±


    At that, Narald held up his hand, silencing the room. He¡¯d been shaken by the news, but he was watching her now with sharp eyes.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked. ¡°Where are you getting this?¡±


    ¡°I interrogated one of the Duergar mages,¡± she explained. ¡°King Grundrik¡ªwhose people and demons we¡¯ve been fighting¡ªis just one of many rulers within the larger Duergar Empire. Considering what he¡¯s doing, I would guess that he¡¯s targeting us in hopes of raising a greater demon where the rest of the empire won¡¯t notice.¡±


    Arice scoffed loudly. ¡°Come on! You can¡¯t believe everything you hear, archmage. If the Empire were so large, the Duergar would have conquered the world by now!¡±


    ¡°Right, of course!¡± Iriala said with false sincerity. ¡°Because they want our land. I¡¯m sure they want to take up wheat farming and go sunbathing. Perhaps they¡¯ll become sailors!¡±


    There were a few titters. The idiot grew red in the face and spluttered, but then subsided with a thunderous expression. He¡¯d really set himself up for that one. Most dwarves avoided living on the surface if they could manage it ¨C especially those who weren¡¯t born there. They avoided spending time outdoors when possible. Their eyes were sensitive to bright sunlight and they suffered terrible sunburns if they didn¡¯t take proper precautions. Dwarven nations barely treated the surface as real territory, to the point that the Confederacy of Dwarven City States didn¡¯t truly enforce their borders as their neighbors recognized them. Gnolls, orcs and trolls roamed freely through their mountains and forests, so long as they didn¡¯t try to intrude into their halls.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Before the general could attempt to defend his wounded pride, though, one of the priests finally stepped forward. Iriala tried to keep the relief off her face. It had taken them long enough.


    ¡°Friends, hear me and listen!" he said in a sonorous voice. "The archmage speaks wisely, though I would caution greater prudence. In the worst case scenario, we are playing the role of Illuria in a Duergar reenactment of the Madurian collapse. Until proven otherwise, this is what we must assume to be the truth.¡±


    He was an older man in white and red robes ¨C a high priest of Noruk. Iriala thought his name might be Jannis, or something like that. She usually went out of her way to avoid anyone from the Temple District. That was a policy that would now have to change, unfortunately. Priests were usually considered observers in court, but this wasn¡¯t just a purely political issue anymore. Nobody interrupted him when he spoke.


    ¡°Once the fighting starts, the other factions in their empire will likely attempt to counter using the same methods. If the empire is truly as large as these captives imply, there¡¯s no telling where they might spring up then. They might appear under Teres, in Madzhur or even in Illuria across the Sea. The Duergar wish to spit in the eyes of the gods themselves. And the gods will not remain silent.¡±


    The count squinted at him skeptically. ¡°What did you have in mind, exactly?¡±


    ¡°This is a spiritual matter as much as it is political, my lord,¡± the priest pronounced, taking his time with the words to lend them additional weight. In Iriala¡¯s opinion, he was laying it on a bit too thick.


    ¡°It was only through the gods themselves that we survived the fall of the empire and it will be through them that we defeat the present evil as well. Noruk calls for war. We must build a holy coalition to root out this evil from beneath the earth.¡± The high priest turned to fully face the count and offered him a slight bow. ¡°My lord, we are not just one city, or one kingdom, set against this foe. My brethren in Madzhur, Illuria and Kallrix will support us and bring aid from all across the land. Even the heads of kings must bow before the will of the gods.¡±


    Iriala managed to suppress an eyeroll at the priest¡¯s overblown words. Barely. The high priest wanted to¡­ what? Mobilize the entire former empire ¨C except Miria, for some reason ¨C and march their armies down into the Depths to destroy the Duergar Empire directly? She supposed it was the sort of initiative she should have expected from the Madurian god of war.


    Narald was looking at the high priest with clear exasperation, obviously trying to think of a way to deny him without also disparaging his famously hot-tempered god. Iriala looked back toward the other representatives from the Temple District, hoping one of them would step up to fix this.


    None of them moved to speak. She ground her teeth. Surely, the other temples, never mind the gods themselves, wouldn¡¯t just let Noruk try to drag half the continent to war? Then one of them, an elderly paladin, looked up to meet her eyes for a moment and raised his eyebrows just a fraction.


    And there it was. Those assholes. They were waiting for her to make a move, to drag her into their stupid games. As if she didn¡¯t have enough problems.


    But she¡¯d known this was going to happen sooner or later. Suppressing her irritation and keeping her face calm, Iriala cleared her throat.


    ¡°If I may, it seems¡­ premature to attempt to drag the entire continent into a war in unknown territory against a mostly unknown enemy. We are not at war with the entire Duergar Empire ¨C not yet. Moreover, if I remember my history, four of the gods worked together to safeguard humanity the last time we faced such a crisis. Would it not be appropriate for the temples of Balarian, Ruzinia and Eyeli to involve themselves in this matter as well? Should they not, at the least, be consulted, lest we raise their ire?¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ yes, this is true!¡± Count Narald looked at her like a drowning man who¡¯d just been thrown a rope. In a more formal tone, he addressed the priest. ¡°High Priest Hannis, honored representatives of the temples, I hereby request the counsel of the gods. Please summon the appropriate representatives to court tomorrow, so that we may find the best way forward.¡±


    Hannis looked only a little annoyed as he sketched a bow and stepped back. This was probably what they¡¯d all been expecting. Except now Iriala had taken some sort of side in temple politics, and she didn¡¯t even know what all the current fault lines were.


    ***


    Bernt boiled water in Kustov¡¯s stone kettle as he sorted through Lin¡¯s selection of herbal teas. The old goblin witch had become a fixture in the Underkeepers¡¯ complex, fielding complaints from the public ¨C especially from the Goblin Quarter ¨C and keeping the break room well stocked. In exchange, Fiora didn¡¯t send her out on patrol.


    It had been a long day and night had already fallen up on the surface, but he wasn¡¯t ready to go home yet. All that waited for him there was an empty house and more spellcasting practice. It felt wrong to waste time, but he couldn¡¯t keep going like this forever. He needed to relax, even if it was just for a few minutes. Otherwise, he was going to burn himself out.


    At least that was what he tried to tell himself.


    Selecting one that smelled nice, Bernt dumped a pinch into the steaming pot, grabbed three cups and carried it back to the table where Torvald and Nirlig were already sitting. As he approached, though, he noticed someone new had joined them. A white-robed woman was speaking with Torvald and throwing uncomfortable glances at Nirlig and the other goblins in the room. She wore a laurel wreath on her head, and a belt made of rough woven fibers that had been dyed green. He recognized the getup ¨C she was a priestess of Eyeli, the goddess of agriculture.


    ¡°Come on, Theona, isn¡¯t this the sort of thing priests usually handle?¡± Torvald asked, looking flustered. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m a paladin, and I just barely got my calling!¡±


    ¡°Right! But Ruzinian pilgrims are notoriously difficult to pin down,¡± the priestess explained. ¡°There isn''t anyone else! It¡¯s a matter of principle. Ruzinia has to be represented at the meeting, if only out of precedent. Not inviting you would be disrespectful to the goddess, since she¡¯s one of the four.¡±


    Bernt put the tea down and pulled another chair over, wordlessly inviting her to sit as he settled down himself. She declined with a little shake of her head and an embarrassed cough.


    ¡°Wait, wait. The last time?¡± Nirlig threw in. ¡°You mean three hundred years ago?¡±


    Theona didn¡¯t look at the goblin, keeping her gaze on Torvald. ¡°Nobody is expecting you to figure it all out yourself. Mostly, we just need you to help us keep the Temple of Noruk in check. Just show up, alright?¡±


    With that, she backed away a step before turning and leaving the room.


    Bernt watched her leave, trying to make sense of what he¡¯d heard. Shaking his head, he looked from Torvald to Nirlig and back again.


    ¡°So¡­ what in the hells was that about?¡±

 3.6 The Invigilation

    Ed shook his head, trying to make sense of the scene in front of him. He was sitting down on hard ground, and a flabby, gray creature lay dead at his feet. It bled black blood that evaporated into what looked like steam or fog even as it poured out onto the ground.


    ¡°Great One! Ed! Can you walk?¡± hissed a familiar voice.


    He blinked, and found the speaker, a familiar-looking imp, standing right behind the body. She wasn¡¯t wearing her usual gray robes, but rather an odd, scaly loincloth and a belt with a few pouches hanging from it.


    ¡°Jori?¡± What the hells? Ed pushed himself up to his feet and looked around. He was in a stone cell, and the door was open. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I killed the whisperer!¡± Jori said, as if that explained everything.


    Ed grunted and patted at his robes, turning around to look for his pipe. Where had it gone? Jori tugged at his robes. ¡°Come on. I have a way out. This place is the worst, do you smell that?!¡±


    The implications of the situation finally hit Ed as he shook off the last of his demonic jailor¡¯s influence. ¡°You¡¯re bigger! What happened? And how did you get in here?¡±


    Squinting down at the body, Ed kicked at it, rolling it over. It was naked except for a shoulder belt. A few odds and ends were tucked into it, but he was only interested in his pipe.


    ¡°We won! I killed Nuros¡¯ host with my sorcery ¨C by myself! Afterwards, the Solicitors wanted to deport me, because of the contract, but then they summoned me back. They wanted me to find you ¨C I brought food!¡±


    Ed¡¯s stomach growled at the imp¡¯s words, but he ignored it, pausing as he retrieved his pipe to stare at her. ¡°You¡­ what?¡± What did she mean they won?


    He shook his head, clearing it. One thing at a time. ¡°Never mind, tell me later. How do you expect to get out of here? I don¡¯t imagine we¡¯re going to get very far, running from a Demon King.¡±


    He peeked out the door. The black stone corridor outside the cell was empty.


    ¡°I¡¯m very sneaky!¡± Jori said proudly, pulling what looked like a tiny waterskin off of her belt. ¡°They use these for money here. Usually it¡¯s just little scraps, but I managed to get a whole one in there.¡± She grinned at him and winked conspiratorially. ¡°They¡¯re going to think you broke free, and that you and the guard killed each other!¡±


    She popped the stopper from the skin and tipped it over. Silver mist poured out, swirling around and into itself oddly for a moment before it unfurled into the vague shape of a man ¨C one missing an arm and the lower part of a leg.


    Ed stared at it for a moment, trying to make sense of it. Had she brought a decoy soul?


    ¡°Jori,¡± he said with as much patience as he could muster. ¡°That¡¯s not going to work. Mortals leave corpses behind.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± she said impatiently, tugging on his sleeve as she moved toward the door. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I fixed it already. I need your help, though!¡±


    He followed her into the corridor, gripping his pipe tightly in one hand as he did. How had Jori even made it in here without being caught? How bad was the security in this prison?


    Jori led him around the corner, and he nearly tripped over the bulky corpse of a demonic guard. The hellhound was large and probably weighed half again as much as he did. Looking closely, Ed realized that one of its eyes had been pierced through ¨C probably by one of Jori¡¯s claws. How had she gotten the drop on it?


    The imp gestured at him impatiently. ¡°Come on, help me get it back to your cell! It¡¯s going to work great, just wait.¡±


    Deciding to humor her for now, Ed seized the hound by one of its legs and dragged it back toward the cell. He looked over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure nobody was coming, but it looked like the demons really did have terrible security measures. Not even any wards, so far.


    Back aching from the strain, he finally managed to haul the thing into the cell with Jori pushing from behind. She was bigger now, but it was still mostly a symbolic effort on her part. There was no chance she could have shifted the dead monster on her own. He sat down to catch his breath for a moment when he was done, feeling weak from the strain, not to mention days without food and too little water. His stomach growled loudly.


    ¡°Oh, right!¡± Jori said, responding to the sound as if he¡¯d said something. She reached into a pouch at her belt and pulled out some kind of flaky-looking pie, which she held out to him.


    ¡°Try it,¡± Jori urged. ¡°They¡¯re great!¡±


    Ed accepted the gift mechanically, staring from it back to Jori. Tentatively, he took a bite. It was filled with potatoes and stewed meat. Pork.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± she said, frowning. ¡°I told you I had food!¡±


    She had said that, hadn''t she? Somehow, Ed hadn¡¯t really believed it. It wasn¡¯t until he actually tasted it that it really hit him. He grinned, the expression feeling alien on his face. A dry cough escaped his lips, morphing into something that could pass for a chuckle a moment later. He laughed, first in disbelief and then in pure, blissful relief.


    His people were alive, and he had resupply. An ally, even.


    Hell, he might not die here. Maybe. If they could make it out.


    As he chewed, Jori summoned hellfire into her hand and began spattering it on the walls and the floor, scorching the stones and melting small marks into it. Then she began pouring more down on the floor around the creature¡¯s head, deeply pitting the surface of the stone. Ed had to back up to keep her from setting his boots on fire. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°Alright, now smash its head!¡± Jori said, pointing at the hellhound. He could see what she was doing now, and he was cautiously impressed. The demons were supposed to think he¡¯d broken free and killed the whisperer first. Then, when the hellhound came to investigate, he¡¯d defeated it, but burned himself up in the process, probably on the hound¡¯s blood.


    Not bothering with his focus, Ed flicked a magic missile down onto the hellhound¡¯s corpse, crushing its head like a rotten pumpkin.


    Ed knew that hellfire ate through flesh like dry leaves, but it was still a stretch to think he¡¯d managed to kill both of these demons and then burnt up without leaving any remains at all. But¡­ with a damaged soul right there, and no other explanation, they might swallow it. Besides, the demons here might never have even seen a mortal die before. For a solo rescue-operation, it was pretty impressive.


    Assuming, of course, that she actually had a way out of here.


    ¡°Not a bad idea.¡± he commented. Then, for good measure, he blew the cell door off its hinges.


    Jori blinked up at him. ¡°What was that for?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know if that hellhound could have opened the door by itself,¡± he explained, scowling down at the bodies. ¡°I hope you have a way for us to get out of this place clean. This isn¡¯t going to work if anybody sees us.¡±


    ¡°Of course I do!" she protested indignantly. "You aren¡¯t going to like it, though.¡±


    Ed scowled at her. ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡±


    Jori grinned, and for the first time, Ed thought she looked like a real demon.


    ***


    Torvald shifted nervously in his seat and glanced at the others arrayed around the table. They sat in a crowded room in the castle, dominated by a long table, with Count Narald at the head and representatives of the other temples placed along it in order of importance.


    They were old men and women for the most part. High priests and paladins of renown. Behind the Count sat a handful of nobles, including Torvald¡¯s own mother who watched the proceedings with narrowed eyes. She¡¯d tried to talk him out of going this morning, and insisted on coming to observe the meeting when she failed. And then there was Torvald, who sat just two seats down from Narald himself, next to Hannis of the Temple of Noruk.


    He felt¡­ out of place, to say the least.


    He¡¯d seen what the Duergar were capable of ¨C he was one of just a few people in this room who had actually fought them. But to hear them seriously discuss the ramifications of the fall of Loamfurth ¨C well, it hit home in a way that nothing else had, so far. What they feared, and what they were trying to address, wasn¡¯t just a war against Besermark by a foreign country. They expected the Duergar to attempt to literally gobble up the entire country, and maybe their neighbors as well, just to fuel an even greater war against their own kind in the Depths. And that was assuming that not the entire Duergar Empire was after them.


    It was too big to contemplate. Like Torvald, most of the priests at the table had kept their mouths shut for most of the meeting, leaving the discussion to the few who had received direction from the gods on the matter. Even now, Torvald could feel the presence of the goddess as a warmth deep in his chest. She did not speak to him or prompt him to action, but he could feel her attention like a hand resting on his shoulder.


    It was a strange sensation, but it provided some comfort in an otherwise very unsettling situation.


    Hannis was obviously trying to start a war with the greater Duergar empire while Angjou, the high priestess of Balarian, argued for temperance. The god of storms had a hot temper, but he was also the god of trade and he tended to act in opposition to Noruk. War was bad for business, after all.


    ¡°If Noruk is calling his priests to the Sacral Peaks, we should join them,¡± Surin, the high priestess of Eyeli interjected, cutting off another tiresome statement from Hannis. ¡°Let us all go to the peaks. We need neither armies, nor a declaration of war to act. The mandate of the Invigilation remains collectively ours, even if we haven¡¯t used it in decades. This is what it¡¯s for!¡±


    The woman sat directly across from Torvald, next to Angjou, who grimaced at her words. The four of them sat closest to the Count because it was their gods ¨C Noruk, Balarian, Eyeli and Ruzinia ¨C who had stepped in the last time that greater demons were instrumentalized in the mortal world. They had appeared together personally to unmake them, tearing down the basis of the last Madurian Emperor¡¯s power in the process.


    A murmur rose around the room as the assembled priests and nobles considered what they¡¯d just heard. Count Narald sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. Hannis stared at Surin with narrowed eyes, no doubt trying to work out what she was up to.


    The Invigilation, as it was called, was the mandate of their four temples to finish what their gods had started ¨C to excise the threat of power-hungry warlocks and the monsters they sought to wield from the mortal world, and to keep them from reemerging again. They had waged a bloody, century-long war across the entire former empire, but what remained today was mostly a symbolic organization. The temple priests still preached against the summoning of demons, but no one actually still went out to hunt warlocks ¨C that was the Solicitors¡¯ job.


    For the most part, priests today remained in their temples, and their paladins pursued other goals. All of them except the Ruzinians, who continued to do what they¡¯d always done ¨C roaming the land to save those who called Her name. Still, Torvald doubted that even they had seriously pursued warlocks or demons in a century, at least.


    ¡°The temples alone cannot operate effectively against transgressions of warlocks in the Duergar Empire.¡± Hannis said finally. ¡°We don¡¯t have the cooperation of their government ¨C and that means facing their armies, as I''ve been saying all along!¡±


    ¡°It will if we don''t even try to get their cooperation.¡± Surin replied emphatically. ¡°We don¡¯t know that the larger Duergar Empire is even aware of this, or that their other vassals would stoop to similar tactics if pressed. I propose that we call a formal conclave at the Sacral Peaks to develop a unified strategy ¨C one that represents not just Beseri interests, but the entire former empire, and that binds us all to act as one according to our mandate. That would benefit you, if it came to war, would it not?¡±


    Hannis nodded begrudgingly, but Angjou scowled. ¡°You¡¯ll just drag everybody into a war that might not even affect us all! And that¡¯s assuming the kingdoms even agree to it. Hell, even king Renias might see this as a challenge to his authority ¨C threatening the ire of the gods to move his armies?! It''s barbaric!¡±


    Count Narald waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Unlikely. Besermark is the only country that has already been assaulted, and our third largest city lies in ruins. Any outside support, be it from the gods or from our sister kingdoms, would likely be welcome to his majesty. We are already at war. As the high priestess of Eyeli said, the Invigilation was never truly ended, and their mandate remains.¡±


    The high priestess of Balarian subsided, stymied by the lack of support, but then her eyes fell on Torvald.


    ¡°What about the Ruzinians? Are they prepared to support this? I can''t picture the pilgrims stopping their work to show up for a conclave.¡±


    Torvald sat up straight as all eyes turned to him, and he began to sweat uncomfortably. He looked past the count to the nobles and met his mother¡¯s eyes ¨C there was fear there. She shook her head at him urgently.


    But the answer burned in his heart even as the goddess whispered it in his ear, and he had to give it.


    ¡°The hands of the goddess will always appear where they are needed.¡±

 3.7 Finding your Way

    ¡°Do you have any idea what you just agreed to?¡± Torvald¡¯s mother said, her voice tinged with exasperation. They were sitting in the rooms their family shared in the castle, where she¡¯d practically dragged him the moment the meeting ended. They were nicer than a Guard Commander¡¯s family could normally hope for, owing in no small part to the woman sitting in front of him. If she didn¡¯t hate politics and intrigue so much, his mother might have been running this city by virtue of her birth alone.


    ¡°I agreed to do whatever the Goddess demands.¡± Torvald said vaguely. Ruzinia had given him an answer, sure, but the exact meaning of it hadn''t been clearer to him than anyone else. Still, he knew whom he served. That was good enough for him.


    His mother scowled at him, but her tone was pleading. ¡°You have no idea what you¡¯re walking into ¨C you¡¯re getting the wrong sort of attention! It¡¯s bad enough that you became a paladin to Ruzinia and saved the city, now you¡¯re getting thrust into the middle of a multinational negotiation to reactivate the Invigilation! This is dangerous, Torvald.¡±


    ¡°The conclave?¡± Torvald frowned. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be more worried about the fighting if Noruk gets his way. I would have to go, you know.¡±


    ¡°Fighting? No,¡± she scoffed. ¡°Your father and I always knew you¡¯d be a fighter. You could never turn your back on a bully. That was fine, mostly. You know who your enemies are in a fight. I¡¯m talking about politics! The family barely knew you existed a few weeks ago, with your father being a commoner. Now, with this, they¡¯re going to take an interest. They¡¯re going to try to draw you into their games. They''ll want you as a tool.¡±


    ¡°Mom,¡± Torvald protested, ¡°it¡¯s fine! What can they even do? We''re not going to Teres, and I¡¯m a paladin. Everything will work out as long as I follow the will of Ruzinia.¡±


    ¡°Politicians don¡¯t respect the will of the gods!¡± she said seriously, leaning forward and meeting his eyes to lend weight to her words. ¡°They are manipulators, and they¡¯ll find a way to get what they want. They work with priests and paladins every day, and you have no idea what you¡¯re doing!¡±


    ¡°Of course I do!¡± Torvald retorted. he couldn''t help but feel annoyed at the accusation. ¡°I studied court and temple procedures during my schooling, and I got great marks! You¡¯re worrying over nothing.¡±


    ¡°Oh Valdy,¡± his mother said, shaking her head as she sat back. ¡°Listen to me. You learned what you might need to know as a guard commander or low-ranking priest. But you¡¯re going up against diplomats and noble courtiers with a lifetime of experience. The family, maybe Renias himself, will probably send a legitimator to handle you, since you¡¯ll be officially acting on behalf of the temple, not Besermark. Technically, you''re already considered a foreign agent.¡±


    Torvald blinked. ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m a Beseri citizen ¨C the king is my second cousin! I work for the government, and I don¡¯t need handling! What on earth is a legitimator?¡±


    ¡°This is exactly what I was talking about!¡± she replied, glaring at him. ¡°The Invigilation has its own rules and protocols. They¡¯re mostly ceremonial nowadays, but that doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re not important! The temples acted on their own across the entire former empire for centuries to fight warlocks and their demons and who knows what else. The temple of Noruk even had its own armies! Did you think the government would just let them march around the country without oversight?¡±


    Torvald shrugged, but didn¡¯t respond. He had thought that. Who would try to tell a god what to do? That was crazy!


    ¡°Priests who act in the name of the Invigilation have a special independent status, but that also comes with strings. You need a legitimator ¨C a government representative ¨C to accompany you on Beseri soil. They¡¯re required to report on your activities, advise you and ensure that you act in the best interests of the government. A legitimator who could manipulate their charge to pursue their quest in just the right way could reap enormous benefits for themselves or their families. You¡¯re at a huge disadvantage, because you don¡¯t know these people.¡± She rubbed at her face with both hands. ¡°One of the reasons I wanted to move here was to get away from all the intrigue and backstabbing. We made it, too! And now you¡¯re going to walk right back into it.¡±


    That¡­ well, that did sound dangerous. Torvald didn¡¯t want to play politics. That was part of the reason he¡¯d gravitated toward the worship of Ruzinia. Ruzinians didn¡¯t play games, they just went wherever the trouble was and intervened, no questions asked. He needed a way to nip this in the bud, to avoid playing the game, if he could.


    ¡°Can I influence who it is?" he asked. "Who chooses the legitimators?¡±


    ¡°Normally, the legitimators are selected by the King in Teres or the Duke of Norhold, since that¡¯s the usual port of entry for priests coming in from Madzhur. Count Narald has the right, in this case ¨C you¡¯re in his territory. The family might still send someone, though. They''re going to want to get involved.¡±


    Torvald frowned thoughtfully. ¡°What happens if I already have one? Will the king just overrule the count?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± his mother said uncertainly. ¡°Though doing that would be an insult to Narald, since it would imply that the count isn¡¯t acting in the best interest of the kingdom. Still, if Renias takes a personal interest¡­¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± he said, subdued. ¡°What do I do?¡±


    ¡°The count could pick almost anyone, in theory. Like I said, it¡¯s seen mostly as a ceremonial, nowadays. Normally, the king liked to give these kinds of postings to relatives or favored servants as a way to honor them and give them an easy job. Mostly. When I was young, an Illurian priest of Balarian came to preach in Besermark and claimed his rights under the Invigilation. Grandpa Erivern appointed his youngest brother as a legitimator to punish him for embarrassing him in front of the Kallrixian ambassador a few weeks earlier.¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    She chuckled darkly at the memory. ¡°Your great-uncle Olias hates traveling and religion, both. He had to follow a priest of Balarian all over the country for three years and listen to him preach about the dangers of demon-summoning. The old bastard deserved it, though. He¡¯s an insufferable drunk and a lecher. Anyway, it¡¯s not so complicated. You just need to get ahead of the politics on this. Your father can recommend someone reliable to the count for you who will watch your back and do the job properly. I can put a word in directly with the count tonight or tomorrow at the latest. He can¡¯t fault me for wanting someone reliable to watch over you. We just need to do it before the guilds get involved, or this is going to get a lot more complicated.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± mused Torvald, ¡°it can be just a regular guard? Do you think I can get one of my colleagues?¡±


    ***


    Uriah trudged along, just one more man in a seemingly endless line of ragged refugees heading east¡ªtoward Halfbridge. Far more people had made it out than he¡¯d originally expected. They said the Duergar had come up underneath them in the center of the city and set the entire place on fire in a matter of minutes. They hadn¡¯t bothered to chase the runners from the outskirts. Five days later, though, they were still looking over their shoulders.


    Yesterday, they¡¯d reached the headwaters of the Uvner watershed and now the road ran along a stream that Uriah knew would grow into a rushing river when it met up with another, larger stream a day¡¯s march from here.


    He could turn south and follow the river back to Halfbridge. Ed had wanted to fight those evil little shits. From what he¡¯d heard, the Underkeepers had fought them. No, they¡¯d crushed them. Rumor had it that they were even forcing Duergar prisoners to rebuild the parts of the city they¡¯d damaged.


    The military wouldn¡¯t take him as a war mage, not unless they were desperate. But Ed would.


    But... he¡¯d had a few days to think about it, now. He was tired, and he¡¯d seen far too much. If he followed that other stream north for a few days, he¡¯d reach a large farming town named Henfelden, where nobody had ever seen an actual demon, or heard tell of any strange gray-skinned dwarves.


    Well, they would have heard by now, but it was that sort of place.


    Pa was getting old now, and Sephus would be taking over the family business. He could go and help¡ªwater the fields and hire out to the neighbors. Hell, he knew more about moving manure around than your average farmer would ever bother to consider.


    It wasn¡¯t much, but it would be honest work.


    Soon, he would have to make a decision.


    ***


    Bernt flipped another pyromancy manual closed and placed it on the growing stack beside him before flipping open the next one, a bestiary describing the creatures of eastern Kallrix, near the southern border of the Phoenix Reaches. Today was his first day off since the battle, and it was his first opportunity to finally do some serious research. He¡¯d already been here for hours, but so far he hadn¡¯t found anything that looked like a solution.


    He¡¯d known that there were hundreds of different specific investiture materials out there for every specialization a mage might care to pursue. Still, it was different to actually read about them all. Fire-resistant ferns that grew near Gobford, burning venom from an exotic insect in Sehesh, a type of fog from Miria that gradually raised the ambient temperature according to the caster¡¯s will. There was even a type of mold that grew down in the Depths that would spontaneously ignite a few days after infecting a host, spreading highly infectious spores for miles around the victim. The only wizard mad enough to build an architecture that included it had been executed for war crimes, according to the footnote.


    When Bernt had arrived, he¡¯d asked Hallan about materials that might bridge the gap between his sorcerous investiture and his more traditional one, but the librarian had only shrugged. ¡°What does it even mean to have a sorcerous investiture? Why does it work at all? It¡¯s an academic blind spot. You¡¯re the one who¡¯s going to have to answer these questions.¡±


    Despite that unhelpful pronouncement, the librarian had taken to the problem with enthusiasm. He¡¯d pulled out every book and scrap of knowledge he knew of regarding pyromancy, as well as a few that described a variety of creatures with magical abilities.


    These were especially interesting ¨C monsters like wyverns or giant fire salamanders clearly had some kind of sorcerous abilities, so there had to be something to learn there. Unfortunately, it was clear that they used these to cast spells, just as he did. There were no materials to use there. The only somewhat promising entry featured a beautiful rendering of a roaring lion called a blazemane. If it had an actual burning mane, then maybe he could use that as an investiture material. But then what? Would he get permanently burning hair? That seemed like it would be worse than useless, even if it worked as a way to form an augmentation.


    Frustrated, he slammed the bestiary shut and sighed, tiredly. He didn¡¯t have to find some kind of perfect material. He could still do as Pollock had suggested and just use a normal one. If it didn¡¯t fuse into an augmentation, he would simply have to learn to develop the different portions of his mana network independently. Of course, that would present a new problem: learning how to grow his sorcerous investiture. That, and it would take even longer to become a real magister.


    The travelogue of Finnerixes contained a few hints, but he wasn¡¯t sure they would apply. The savage sorcerers of the Mirian interior didn¡¯t start out with a sorcerous mana network. They ate the hearts of fae creatures to ignite some kind of central point they called the Dan-Chin and then somehow guided its overflowing energies into creating a new network for them. Bernt¡¯s experience had been nothing like that, and he had no intention of eating an intelligent creature to get on the same page.


    If only Jori was here. He knew she consumed souls to achieve a similar effect as those sorcerers, but she could at least tell him what it was supposed to feel like. There hadn¡¯t been time to talk about it before the Solicitors had forced her to leave. Besides, he just missed her. She had a way of looking at the world that made everything seem a little brighter. The part of his mind that connected him to the imp was dull, barely giving him a sense of her existence. Still, that he had any connection left at all was a comfort.


    A connection.


    Bernt sat bolt upright, nearly dropping the book. How could he have been so stupid!? It had been right there the entire time. Setting the book down carefully, he rushed out of the small study room and to the front desk.


    ¡°Hallan, I¡¯ve got an idea! Do you have any texts about familiar bonds? Not the manual, I need theoretical analyses, maybe experimental notes if you have any.¡±


    Hallan looked up from the book he was reading at his desk with a quizzical expression. ¡°Bonds? Why?¡± Then his eyes lit up in understanding and he scowled. ¡°Dammit Bernt. No! It was a terrible idea at the academy, and it¡¯s still stupid now. You are not putting a familiar bond on an elemental. How would that even help?¡±

 3.8 A Humble Request

    It was late by the time Bernt made it back to the Undercity ¨C the evening rush on the market was already well underway. He¡¯d managed to learn a few things, though he still wasn¡¯t sure about what to do about his next investiture. It was frustrating, but at least the day hadn¡¯t been a total loss.


    It had taken some fast talking, but he had eventually managed to convince Hallan that he wasn¡¯t going to attempt to bond an elemental. That settled, Hallan let him check out a copy of an ancient imperial researcher¡¯s treatise on familiar bonds, including notes and even a few variations on the usual bonding spell.


    Bernt had already taken a look at it back at the library, and he was sure he could figure out a way to temporarily strengthen the connection. Assuming that worked, he might finally be able to communicate with Jori again. It wasn¡¯t perfect, and it wasn¡¯t really a substitute for having her back, but he hated relying on the Solicitors for updates ¨C not least because they never actually told him anything. That was fine, he didn''t need them.


    Bernt wanted nothing more than to go straight home to work on it, but he still had another appointment to get to today. He and Nirlig had talked Torvald into meeting them after work today to update them on what he learned in his meeting with the count.


    Rumors had been running rampant around the city about the fall of Loamfurth, but nobody really knew anything concrete yet. The priestess in the break room last night had practically confirmed that it was Nuros and his Duergar, back for another round. His army had been defeated and Jori had literally burned him to ash, yet he managed to level another city less than two weeks later.


    Bernt tried to picture it, but he struggled to grasp the scale of the catastrophe, even having seen what happened here in Halfbridge. It was too big, too devastating to make sense of. What did it mean? Could the Duergar do the same to Walport, up on the northern coast? Did they have other armies sitting under Yetin¡¯s Harbor and Teres, waiting for their demonic general to appear? And would they come back here?


    He caught sight of his two coworkers sitting at a small table in front of an alehouse and waved as he joined them. Torvald wouldn¡¯t have answers to these questions, of course, but any news was welcome at a time like this.


    ¡°Hey, you made it!¡± Nirlig said cheerfully, raising his mug in greeting. Torvald nodded at him, his expression much more serious.


    Bernt waved to a goblin barman as he sat down and ordered a pint and something to eat. He¡¯d forgotten to get lunch, and his stomach growled hungrily at the smells that drifted out from the kitchen.


    ¡°Alright, he¡¯s here. Are you going to tell us what happened, now?¡± Nirlig asked Torvald impatiently. ¡°I¡¯ve got people in Loamfurth, you know. My cousin lives there!¡±


    ¡°Well, you better hope he got out,¡± Torvald said gravely. ¡°It sounds pretty much like the worst-case scenario. The city¡¯s been destroyed. My father told me the refugees should start reaching us in a few days, maybe two or three, depending on how quickly they¡¯re moving. That¡¯s not even what the meeting was about, though. Not really." He let out a slow breath, choosing his words. "They want to coordinate an international response to the Duergar ¨C the temples, I mean. They want to set up this big conclave at the Sacral Peaks to revive the Invigilation. I''m going.¡±


    Bernt frowned in confusion. ¡°Can they do that? I mean, don''t they just stand on street corners and preach about the dangers of summoning demons nowadays?¡±


    Torvald shrugged and nodded. ¡°Yeah. No one ever made them stop hunting rogue warlocks, the temples just stopped actively pursuing them after the Solicitors and their sister organizations in Madzhur and Kallrix were set up and began policing their own. Their mandate is totally intact across the entire continent, legally speaking. And right after the fall of the empire, the Invigilation did coordinate large-scale wars against powerful warlocks who tried to set up their own kingdoms, though they were just ¡°The Temples¡± back then. The pretentious name came later, when everything was codified in treaties ¨C ¡±


    ¡°Alright, yes, fine. We can do the history lesson later,¡± Nirlig interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. ¡°What happened at the meeting?¡±


    As Torvald recounted what he¡¯d heard, Bernt tried to grasp the implications of what he was saying. The Invigilation was trying to seize some kind of political power here, right? It had to be. If it actually worked, they might gain control of the combined military assets of multiple countries. Or influence, at least. That would change things ¨C everything, maybe. The gods didn¡¯t normally get involved in human politics like this.


    Bernt couldn''t begin to guess what this meant, but it probably wasn¡¯t good. Not for regular people who just wanted to mind their own business. On the other hand, Beseri cities were being burned down by a mad demon lord and his Duergar armies. The likes of general Arice and the wealthy nobles in Teres certainly weren¡¯t going to fix it. So, maybe they were just doing what was needed. Who was he to say?


    ¡°So, wait,¡± Nirlig said as Torvald finished his explanation. ¡°You''re saying you need an escort to go with you to the Sacral Peaks, and it just has to be someone who works for the government?¡± He grinned excitedly. ¡°Can I come? It sounds amazing ¨C I¡¯ve always wanted to travel!¡±


    Torvald gave a pained smile. ¡°Ah¡­ I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea. The count is ultimately the one who selects the legitimator. The temple district might¡­ uh¡­ take issue with him selecting a pagan. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s going to want that.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Nirlig¡¯s grin morphed into a bitter frown and he took a swig of his ale. ¡°A goblin, you mean.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Torvald confirmed. ¡°Not just that, but yeah. Sorry. It¡¯s politics.¡± He looked over at Bernt, meeting his eyes. ¡°Actually, I was going to ask you.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Bernt choked on his ale in surprise and coughed. ¡°Torvald, are you crazy? Everybody thinks I¡¯m a warlock! If the count won¡¯t take Nirlig, what do you think they¡¯ll say about me?¡±


    Torvald waved Bernt¡¯s protests aside. ¡°They won¡¯t say anything. I don¡¯t think you realize what kind of backing you have. You¡¯re a member of the Mages¡¯ Guild, and pretty much everyone has heard about how you burned demons to cinders in the battle down here. Besides, no demon, no infernal powers, no warlock.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works!¡± Bernt protested. ¡°Everybody knew about Jori, not to mention her killing the Duergar general!¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Torvald insisted. ¡°My mom always says individual facts aren¡¯t really that important, it¡¯s about your image. It¡¯s why she hates politics so much. But it¡¯s working in your favor in this case. Jori is very popular in this town right now, and she was fighting the bad guys. Hardly like a demon at all. You¡¯re not associated with any noble families and frankly, you¡¯re a local war hero. The count will give you the job if we nudge him in the right direction. Specifically, he will if my mother does the nudging.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, man,¡± Bernt said unenthusiastically. ¡°It¡¯s been a hard couple of months here and there¡¯s no telling how long I¡¯d be gone. Besides, I really need to work on my development as a wizard ¨C I¡¯m in a pretty difficult position right now.¡±


    He needed the guild library for his research, and Pollock¡¯s expertise to find the right way forward. Besides, what if Jori and Ed came back while he was gone? He wanted to be there for that.


    ¡°Are you crazy?¡± Nirlig blurted incredulously. ¡°What do you need more magic for? You burned hundreds of Duergar with a single spell. Listen to yourself! You could get paid to travel. Who wouldn¡¯t take that job?¡±


    Torvald leaned forward in his chair. ¡°I know it¡¯s a lot to ask, but think about it, please. We won¡¯t be out in the wilderness the whole time ¨C we¡¯d be traveling through a lot of towns and a few cities. Fergefield and Goldwater are big enough to have their own guild branches. Their libraries probably have texts you can¡¯t find here. After we¡¯re done at the Sacral Peaks, we could even visit Teres and check in on Josie!¡±


    That¡­ well, that didn¡¯t sound too bad. Put that way, it did sound crazy to refuse. A direct appointment from the count probably was probably well paid, too. Still, it was a big decision to make at the drop of a hat. He needed to think this through.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± Bernt allowed. Being able to visit the other guilds really might be worth it. Traveling clear across the country was expensive, and he doubted he was going to get a lot of opportunities to do it without losing his job, never mind getting paid for it.


    Besides, there was something else he¡¯d just remembered. The Sacral Peaks were right next to the Phoenix Reaches.


    ***


    When he got home, Bernt pulled the books he¡¯d checked out from the library out of his bag and stacked them on his stone desk, putting the one on familiar bonds to the side for later. One of these had a map in it, though he couldn¡¯t remember which one. He started flipping through them and got almost halfway through his stack before he remembered where he¡¯d seen it.


    Cursing himself, he rose and grabbed the oddly proportioned book on elemental summoning off his shelf. There, in the back cover was a map of the continent, with various confluence locations marked. The Phoenix Reaches were marked with an ignition rune and right there, in mountains directly on its northwestern edge, lay the Sacral Peaks. The holy site was famously inaccessible. It had to be, to serve as a refuge during the darkest days of the Madurian Empire.


    That wasn¡¯t what Bernt was interested in, though. What mattered was whether he could access the Phoenix Reaches from there. If he could, then he might be able to get his hands on exotic pyromancy materials, or even try his hand at elemental summoning. It should work.


    Idly, Bernt flipped backward through the book, going over the various types of elemental creatures. While summoned elementals were powerful, they all came with a serious drawback ¨C they couldn¡¯t be summoned from just anywhere, and they were difficult to control. They instinctively hated the chaotic energies of the material plane, and sought to return to the purity of their own element. Sooner or later ¨C usually sooner ¨C an elemental would slip its leash and return to its home plane. At least, that was what the book said.


    If he wanted to experiment on elementals, he needed to start small. Remembering one particularly boring entry, Bernt looked up the first elemental listed in the Fire section.


    Lesser Flame Sprite: The simplest type of fire elemental, this semi-sentient flame responds easily to the will of its summoner and can sustain itself through the combustion of mundane materials. While not very powerful, its simple upkeep makes it an ideal long-term tool for summoners operating far from an appropriate summoning location.


    It was made entirely of flame ¨C it didn¡¯t really have a body¡­ what would happen if he put one into a rune circle for analysis? What was it, really? Was it a spirit in the same sense as what goblin shamans interacted with, or was it more like a natural creature with its own mana network? Or was it more like a magical material in its own right? One that had gained its own rudimentary intelligence?


    Questions whirled in Bernt¡¯s head as he considered the possibilities, even as he realized that he¡¯d made a decision. Torvald hadn¡¯t been wrong about visiting other guild libraries, and he would need to talk to Pollock to clarify exactly what to focus on and what kinds of experiments to run. But regardless of the details, this was something he really couldn¡¯t ignore. He might never get another opportunity to access the Phoenix Reaches.


    Besides, traveling with Torvald could be good for him. Ruzinians didn¡¯t associate with rogue warlocks and evildoers ¨C they destroyed them. The paladin¡¯s renown was already spreading since his explosive first battle, and this conclave wouldn¡¯t exactly make people forget about him. Being Torvald¡¯s official legitimator could help him protect Jori by association, whenever they managed to get her home.


    He¡¯d wanted to do something to help, anything that didn¡¯t involve just sitting on his hands and hoping Josie saved the day with her legal battle in Teres. Well, here was something. It wasn¡¯t a solution in itself, of course, but it was a step in the right direction.

 3.9 Taking Risks

    ¡°Really? You¡¯ll do it?¡± Torvald said, clearly excited.


    ¡°I¡¯ll accept if the count appoints me.¡± Bernt hedged. ¡°You said yourself that you can¡¯t just choose me.¡±


    ¡°Eh.¡± Torvald shrugged confidently, pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling something on it. ¡°My mom was born a princess. I mean, only technically¡ªshe was never really in the line of succession, but still. She grew up in the king¡¯s palace in Teres! Narald is going to listen to her. At least, as long as nobody else with more practical influence leans on him first.¡±


    Bernt had come to work early to do some reading in the break room ¨C it was more comfortable than his lackluster stone furniture at home ¨C but he¡¯d found the paladin already there and waiting for him. By the looks of it, he meant to send a message with Bernt¡¯s response up to the palace before work.


    That seemed a little odd. Was it really that urgent?


    With a friendly clap on his shoulder, Torvald hurried out the door to find a messenger, leaving Bernt in the nearly-deserted breakroom.


    Well, this was it. Sighing to himself, Bernt pulled out the book on familiar bonds and went to make himself a cup of tea.


    ***


    Asra allowed Narald¡¯s secretary announce her, but she didn¡¯t wait for his invitation to enter. It was important to maintain proprieties, but he was just a count.


    Seeing her enter, the secretary quietly sketched a bow and retreated.


    Narald sat at his desk across from his court mage, Iriala, who peered disapprovingly over her glasses at her. She looked for all the world like a grumpy old schoolteacher. Idly, Asra wondered if the woman had ever been one. Maybe she''d taught at the Mages¡¯ Academy.


    ¡°Your highness.¡± The count said smoothly, turning slightly in his seat to greet her. ¡°How may I be of service to you today?¡±


    She and Narald had always gotten along well. Almost, anyway. When she¡¯d first moved here with Righmond, the count had feared that she would attempt to usurp his position in Halfbridge. But he¡¯d calmed down after some reassurances, and he¡¯d even helped her manage some family drama a few years back when Righmond had gotten himself into hot water over some business down at the docks.


    ¡°I had a thought regarding the meeting yesterday, and I wanted to ask a favor of you,¡± she began. ¡°As I''m sure you''re aware, any priest acting on behalf of the Invigilation will need a legitimator appointed to accompany them, especially since they¡¯re planning to get involved in international politics...¡±


    Narald furrowed his brow. ¡°Ah¡­ and what, you want to act as the legitimator for your son? I thought you hated politics. Besides, I don¡¯t think I can even do that. You outrank me, technically.¡±


    ¡°No, no. Nothing like that.¡± Asra said with a polite laugh, shaking her head. ¡°I want to make sure my son is protected. That, and I don¡¯t want to see my relatives from Teres get their claws into him. You''ve met them, so I''m sure you understand. If you don¡¯t appoint someone soon, Renias will almost certainly send someone to shepherd the family¡¯s new ¡°rising star¡± for the benefit of the crown. He¡¯s barely grown into a man¡ªhe¡¯s not ready for that.¡±


    Narald¡¯s face grew conflicted, and he threw a glance at the archmage before looking back at her.


    ¡°There¡¯s not a lot I can do if the king takes a personal interest. You do realize that he can simply overrule my appointment, right?¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t,¡± Asra said with more confidence than she felt. ¡°Halfbridge is all that still connects northern and southern Besermark. He won¡¯t want to offend you as long as your pick doesn¡¯t directly undermine him in some way. Your personal loyalty and goodwill is valuable coin to the crown right now.¡±


    The count considered that for a moment before nodding to himself. ¡°Makes sense. I suppose that you have somebody in mind?¡±


    Asra nodded firmly. ¡°I do. As I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware, Torvald has been working for the Underkeepers. One of his new friends from there¡ªa mage¡ªinvented a spell to burn demons. I hear that he distinguished himself in the battle in the Undercity, just as Torvald did. He seems like an appropriate choice, all things considered.¡±


    A soft, considering hum drew Asra¡¯s attention to the archmage, whose glasses briefly shone with a glint of iridescent light as she apparently started scrying or divining or whatever, right then and there!


    That hardly seemed appropriate, but Asra ignored her. Let her play her own games. The mage didn¡¯t really concern her. The Underkeeper boy had nothing to do with the king or the nobility, and that was good enough for her. If Torvald was happy, then all the better.


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle it.¡± Narald promised.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Asra nodded graciously toward the count and swept out of the room. At least that was one problem taken care of. Righmond still wouldn¡¯t be happy¡ªhe¡¯d wanted to send one of his own people¡ªbut life was built on compromises.


    ***


    Narald gave Iriala a meaningful look as the door closed behind the retreating figure.


    ¡°That Underkeeper''s one of yours, isn¡¯t he?¡± he said. ¡°The one with the demon that killed Nuros.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°She killed Nuros¡¯ host.¡± Iriala corrected, giving up her divining attempts for the moment. As far as she could tell, the woman really was just looking out for her son. ¡°Nuros is probably back already. I¡¯d guess that he was the one behind the fall of Loamfurth. The Solicitors assure me that powerful demons are difficult to bind into a pact, and expensive to maintain. I seriously doubt that the Duergar have more than one.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± the count said. ¡°And the Underkeeper?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a guild member,¡± she said. ¡°Still, he¡¯s more closely associated with the Underkeepers. I don¡¯t know that he¡¯s going to accept. He¡¯s loyal to archmage Thurdred and probably won¡¯t want to leave with him missing. If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d still like to get one of mine appointed. Maybe to Hannis. We can count on that old goat to be in the thick of things.¡±


    ¡°You would, wouldn''t you?¡± The count asked with a snort. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Iriala. I think one mage is enough. I have a balance to maintain here, and I can¡¯t afford to be seen playing favorites.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± she allowed, frowning thoughtfully. The young Underkeeper wouldn¡¯t have been her first choice, but at least he was already as good as appointed.


    She needed someone on the ground to help her push things in the right direction. Ideally, it would be someone more reliable and sensible than Pollock¡¯s new protege, but at least the boy wasn¡¯t stupid. She¡¯d have to have a talk with him soon. At least he was already friends with the young Ruzinian paladin. Still, it would be a lot more convenient to have someone more experienced along.


    ¡°Have you thought about security?¡± she asked. ¡°Three of the temple representatives are priests, and legitimators aren¡¯t usually expected to protect their charges¡ªespecially if you¡¯re planning to send any of your courtiers.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Narald said with a glint in his eye. He¡¯d guessed where she was going with this. ¡°The Adventurer¡¯s Guild has graciously offered us a discount. I already accepted.¡±


    Iriala frowned. How had Ambrose gotten to Narald ahead of her? She really was going to have to rely on the Underkeeper boy.


    ¡°How long do we have till they leave?¡± she asked, trying to decide on her next steps. She had a lot of work ahead of her if Bernt was going to be ready.


    ***


    ¡°Here are the citations for today.¡± Bernt said, putting a small stack of papers on Fiora¡¯s desk. She¡¯d sent him to inspect a handful of businesses in the Crafters¡¯ Quarter and review their waste disposal procedures. ¡°A dwarven smelting facility and a dyer in the Crafting Quarter are both dumping toxic waste into the septic system.¡±


    Fiora grunted as she flipped through the citations. ¡°Did they give you trouble?¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°No, not really¡ªthey just played dumb. I explained that they were going to contaminate their own food supply with the mushroom farm and that seemed to get through to them. I don¡¯t think they¡¯re going to be a problem.¡±


    ¡°Good, thanks.¡± Fiora said, and then looked up to meet his eyes. ¡°Listen, Ed was doing his best to keep you off of inspection duties like this. We¡¯ll get some of the others trained up on the waste management procedures here soon. I know you¡¯ve had¡­ a bad experience, but the backlog is pretty extreme, and we¡¯re short staffed.


    ¡°Fiora, it¡¯s fine,¡± Bernt said, feeling a bit embarrassed. He¡¯d known that Ed avoided sending him to any alchemists, but he hadn¡¯t realized that they were making accommodations for him to this degree. ¡°It¡¯s my job. I can do whatever you need.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s what I wanted to talk to you about.¡± Fiora said, leaning back. ¡°I got a request from Archmage Iriala about an hour ago. She wants me to loan you out to the Mages¡¯ Guild for a few weeks. In exchange, she¡¯s offering to put a word in with the magistrate to get City Maintenance to start sharing the load down here. It¡¯s technically their job already, but you know how they are¡­¡±


    Bernt nodded, considering. What she wasn¡¯t saying was that she needed their engineers a lot more than a single pyromancer when it came to getting all of the new facilities that were being built down here up to code.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re giving me a choice?¡± he asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°More of an explanation.¡± Fiora replied with an apologetic smile. ¡°We haven¡¯t even finished with the Crafters¡¯ Quarter, and it¡¯s about to get a lot worse. The crafters that came down from the surface after the battle are setting up in the new Refugee Quarter, and all of them will need inspections soon as well. The people at City Maintenance have their hands full supporting the reconstruction of city infrastructure in the Lower and Crafters¡¯ Districts.¡±


    Fiora sighed tiredly and her face fell into a scowl that suddenly reminded Bernt of Ed. ¡°They¡¯ve been arguing that the Undercity is our responsibility first. The magistrate hasn¡¯t done anything to discourage that attitude. I stopped sewer maintenance on the surface in protest, but everyone with any solid leverage is up there. They won¡¯t really feel the effects for a few weeks.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Bernt said. ¡°I don¡¯t mind. I¡¯ve been meaning to carve out some time to research up at the guild anyway. It¡¯ll be easier if I¡¯m already in the building.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Fiora said inquisitively. ¡°What are you working on?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a couple of things¡­¡± Bernt said evasively and then held up his right arm, letting the sleeve fall back to reveal the glowing patterns on his lower arm. ¡°I need to work out what kind of investiture to get next that might actually form an augmentation. That and a couple of other ideas¡­¡±


    He didn¡¯t want to talk to anyone about his familiar bond right now. Nobody was aware that it was still working, or even that it had survived Jori¡¯s deportation. Except¡­ he¡¯d mentioned it to Josie. But she was gone. Nobody in Halfbridge would know, unless Radast had been spying on him. He had been seeing shadows in the corner of his eye lately. But that was most likely just paranoia. It might be a valuable secret to keep for now.


    Fiora nodded, pursing her lips as she examined his arm.


    ¡°It¡¯s interesting, you know. I knew a few people who burned out their mana networks when I was in the army. Not totally, mind you, but enough to retire. It¡¯s hard on them.¡± She looked up to meet his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate your accomplishment, you hear? Even if it stunts your growth, you¡¯re already going to help a lot of people. That counts for something.¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡± Bernt shook his head in confusion. ¡°What do you mean? Pollock told me that nobody was using my hellfire derivative. We don¡¯t really know anything about what happens if a mage attempts further investitures afterward. It¡¯s not safe yet.¡±


    The older mage huffed a laugh and offered him a sardonic grin. ¡°No, no. The guild hasn¡¯t endorsed it, and it isn¡¯t administering your procedure to injured veterans in a controlled environment in exchange for a fee. That doesn¡¯t mean nobody is doing it. These are people who burned their spirits to protect their fellow soldiers and themselves. To win battles. You know what it feels like to do that to yourself. It doesn¡¯t just happen by accident. Do you think people like that are going to wait for a recommendation from the guild when there¡¯s a war on? Did you?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Bernt said, swallowing. He didn¡¯t know how to feel about that. It felt good to know that other people valued his work. On the other hand, he wasn¡¯t going to get paid anything for mages who tried to replicate his sorcerous investiture on their own. Not to mention what might happen if they didn¡¯t adequately replicate his hellfire derivative.

 3.10 Run, Hide, or Fight

    Bernt squared his shoulders and knocked on Iriala¡¯s office door, doing his best to appear calm and confident. He didn¡¯t need to be nervous¡ªthe archmage had asked for him specifically, and she¡¯d traded her influence to get him here. That should have reassured him, but he still couldn¡¯t quite keep himself from nervously sweating into his clothes. What could she want him for?


    No one answered. What was going on? The guild was nearly deserted and almost eerily quiet¡ªhis instructions had said to appear before dawn. Except the archmage wasn¡¯t here.


    After waiting a few more awkward seconds, Bernt knocked again, a little more firmly this time. Again, nothing.


    ¡°Wizard Bernard!¡± A voice called out the same moment that he heard steps, behind him and to his left. He flinched, startled by the sudden sound, and whirled to see the archmage by the stairs on the landing. She waved to him, already turning back the way she¡¯d come. ¡°Come this way, please.¡±


    Hurrying to catch up, Bernt caught Archmage Iriala halfway up the stairs to the next floor.


    ¡°Good morning, Archmage,¡± he said, trying not to sound out of breath. ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°Your office,¡± she replied. ¡°Are you familiar with the historical significance of the Invigilation, Bernt?¡±


    Bernt missed a step, nearly stumbling on the stairs before catching himself. What was all this about? He hesitated for a second, trying to decide what to say, but there was no point in pretending ignorance.


    ¡°Yes, Archmage,¡± he said. ¡°They¡¯re the adherents to the four temples of the Sacral Peaks who were responsible for controlling warlock activity in the former Empire before the Solicitors came along.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the archmage said, sounding a little surprised. ¡°That''s good. I don¡¯t know what you might have heard, but the temples are attempting to coordinate a continent-wide response to the Duergar threat. In resuming this kind of political role, though, they¡¯ve also made some other, mostly symbolic traditions relevant again¡ª¡±


    ¡°The legitimators,¡± interrupted Bernt as they reached the upper floor of the Mages¡¯ Guild. ¡°I¡¯m familiar with them. I work with a paladin ¨C he¡¯s been telling me about it.¡±


    ¡°Ah, he already caught you up,¡± Iriala said, giving him a sharp look that suggested she understood quite a bit more than he¡¯d meant to say. ¡°So it wasn¡¯t just his mother¡¯s idea ¨C I should have guessed.¡±


    Bernt blinked, surprised. News traveled fast.


    ¡°Torvald asked me if I¡¯d come with him, I just said I¡¯d go if the count appointed me,¡± Bernt said carefully. ¡°What does that have to do with the guild?¡±


    Iriala harrumphed. ¡°Everything, boy. Those who do not work to shape the future risk being shaped by a future they had no control over. Remember that, if you ever plan to get involved in games of power. The temples are calling this conclave to make decisions about our entire country, and our neighbors, too. They need the king¡¯s cooperation and consent, but nobody¡¯s going to ask us for our opinion here at the guild. That¡¯s not acceptable to us any more than it will be to any of the other guilds or other interests in our country. We don¡¯t know where all the representatives at this conclave will come from, or how many there are. You might be the only Beseri mage there, for all I know.¡±


    Bernt swallowed as Iriala led them down the Wizard¡¯s Society corridor, sweeping by offices and laboratories with a purposeful stride. She wanted him to¡­ what? Wrangle the conclave into doing her bidding? That sounded a lot more ambitious than what he¡¯d had in mind. For that matter, it raised an entirely different question.


    ¡°Do you know why they''re even doing the conclave in the first place? I mean, why go have a meeting at the Sacral Peaks? Can¡¯t the gods negotiate amongst themselves to come up with an agenda for the Invigilation? I imagine that all the kings and the Kallrixian Council would be more willing to work with something like that, too.¡±


    Iriala looked over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised. ¡°It''s not that simple, no. You should read up on the topic a bit before the time comes. I know most mages aren¡¯t very religious, but this is going to become very relevant to you, soon.¡±


    "Okay. So why have the conclave?"


    The archmage stopped in front of a plain wooden door and fumbled through a ring of keys before thrusting one into the lock.


    ¡°The gods don¡¯t like to interfere with our political affairs directly ¨C which isn¡¯t the same thing as saying they don¡¯t get involved. It¡¯s an agreement they made to end the Age of Barbarism and allow civilization to develop without one of their own crushing it every few years to spite whichever god sponsored them.¡±


    The hinges squealed as she opened the door. ¡°Here we are. This is going to be your office.¡±


    It was a small room with a desk, a single chair and a bookshelf. There was no dust ¨C someone had cleaned the place recently ¨C and a small stack of books sat on the desk alongside a dwarven steel pen, ink and a stack of paper. Bernt entered, taking it in. It was a bit stark, but not more than his own house. Reaching up, Bernt hung a perpetual torch spell in the air up beside the door. It gave the mostly empty room a cozier air. Much better.


    ¡°Thank you, archmage,¡± he said, walking up to the desk. Leaning down, he sorted through the books, checking the covers. They were primers on the four temples involved in the Invigilation, a history book about the fall of the Madurian Empire, a book about temple protocols and rituals, and another on Beseri diplomatic protocol.


    ¡°You want me to study these?¡± he asked. Bernt could guess what was going on here, but it was always best to get clear instructions. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Iriala confirmed. ¡°Ideally, you¡¯d spend a few years learning how to think strategically about our place in the world, both the Mages¡¯ Guild and Besermark. We don¡¯t have that kind of time, though, so I¡¯ll just need to prepare you as best I can. There¡¯s an intelligence report about the Duergar at the bottom of the stack. Pollock tells me you respond well to open-ended inquiry, so see if you can work out what our interests are in this matter, and how you think you might be able to address them at the conclave.¡±


    Bernt looked from the books to the archmage. This was all getting out of hand very quickly. Torvald had asked him to do this to keep him out of all the political games ¨C or at least to protect him from his family. Hells, Bernt had just wanted to do his experiments in the Phoenix Reaches. On the other hand, though, the opportunity here was obvious. He¡¯d be an idiot not to take it. Besides, at the end of the day, nobody could force him to do anything at the conclave.


    ¡°Thanks," he said, clearing his throat. "I¡¯ll get right on it. How long do I have? Torvald didn¡¯t say when we¡¯d actually be leaving.¡±


    ¡°The temples all across the Empire and at the Sacral Peaks have to decide on a date for the conclave. My scryers and the those at all the other guilds across the continent are working with them to establish a reliable communication network, but it¡¯ll still take some time. You¡¯ll have at least a few weeks.¡± Iriala said and swept out the door. ¡°Start with the history book!¡±


    When he couldn¡¯t hear her steps anymore, Bernt opened his bag and pulled out all of his other books ¨C those he¡¯d checked out from the library. He hadn¡¯t expected Iriala to give him an office up here at the Wizard¡¯s Society, but the proximity that gave him to Pollock would be a huge benefit. Honestly, it was better than he could have hoped for.


    On the other hand, there was a lot to go through here. He would have to manage his time carefully if he was going to be ready in time.


    ***


    Ed reached up and gingerly felt at the burns on his scalp. It was healing well enough, but it still hurt like hell. Jori was up ahead, standing on a rock and sticking her nose up into the air, sniffing for something or other.


    ¡°Damned demons and their stupid fire rivers,¡± he grumbled, digging through his pouch for something to eat. They¡¯d been trudging through the rocky landscape for who knew how long, hiding from passing demons and sleeping when they got tired. There was no day or night here and the lack of a proper way to track time was beginning to grate on him.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Jori protested. ¡°I warned you that you weren¡¯t going to like it!¡±


    He grunted in reply. The damned imp had dragged him down some kind of heating shaft to a massive tunnel that ran under the city. Instead of carrying sewage or water, though, this one carried hellfire. Ed knew that the river terminated in the city somewhere, but he hadn¡¯t really considered what happened to it. Now, though, he was absolutely certain that he didn¡¯t want to know.


    The thing had a narrow walkway along the side, but he¡¯d still had to maintain a mobile heat barrier around himself the entire way. Casting a simple, stationary barrier was easy ¨C even a spherical one to cover him from all directions. Moving while maintaining the spell, though, was an entirely different proposition. It was a lot, even for him, and he¡¯d slipped up ¨C accidentally letting the top of his head poke out beyond its edges. The burns had been instantaneous, and he¡¯d nearly lost control of the spell entirely.


    They¡¯d made it out, and Jori had led him away from the city and up out of the valley where it lay.


    She¡¯d been nothing but friendly since, but Ed knew she wasn¡¯t telling him everything. She wanted something in exchange for her help. Iriala¡¯s initial note, stashed in the pouch along with the food, had said as much. He would humor Jori, he''d decided ¨C you couldn¡¯t expect altruism from most people, never mind a demon. It would be like expecting a dwarf to fly. Besides, she was his only contact to the mortal world, and according to the note, his only real chance of getting back home. That, and she had given him the food without asking for anything. She''d earned some goodwill.


    The imp had disappeared several times since they¡¯d escaped the city, only to reappear a few minutes later ¨C summoned by solicitors who wanted updates, she¡¯d said. Sometimes she came back carrying more food or a message from either Iriala or Radast. Iriala sent him news from outside, but the warlock mostly just wanted to know what it was like here. Damned asshole had better hope he didn¡¯t give him a taste when he got back.


    Waving at the imp to signal that he was taking a break, Ed found a rock to sit on and conjured himself some water.


    ¡°So, Jori. What¡¯s your game in all this?¡± Ed asked as she joined him. He¡¯d been waiting for her to spill it, but she¡¯d been content just to lead them off in what looked to him like a random direction.


    Jori grinned at him, displaying pointed teeth. ¡°We¡¯re going to save my pack!¡±


    Then she produced a bit of jerky from her Underkeeper''s robes, which she''d recovered after their escape, and began gnawing on it. Ed scratched at his stubbly beard and scowled at her.


    ¡°Well this is going to be a fine mess,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Save them how? Where? And what do you mean to do with a pack of imps when you¡¯ve got them?¡±


    ¡°That way,¡± Jori said, pointing the way they''d been going. ¡°We have to find a fiend named Tallash. I can smell him. His blood stinks. He bound the pack to himself years ago. It¡¯s how I got separated, before I was summoned for the first time. I hid away from them and he didn¡¯t find me. I¡¯m very sneaky!¡±


    Ed let out a slow, tired breath. ¡°And your pack... they''re going to be wherever he is?¡±


    Jori snorted. ¡°Some of them, maybe. That¡¯s not the point, though. We need to kill him to break my cousins¡¯ obligation to our enemies. Tallash is bound to Zijeregh, a servant of Nuros. They won¡¯t betray their master on their own ¨C it would be an insult to their master¡¯s master. Very dangerous. Bad things happen to traitors. But, if the chain of obligation is broken, they aren¡¯t traitors. They would be free to follow us. It¡¯s how things are done, here.¡±


    Ed squinted at her in confusion. ¡°How do you know all their names?¡± Did demons intuitively know the entire chain of command of other demons they met? How would something like that even work?


    ¡°I asked!¡± Jori replied, as if it were obvious.


    The archmage shook his head, irritated. He didn¡¯t have the patience to weasel every little thing out of her. ¡°Alright. What¡¯s your plan? Can you take this fiend in a fight?¡±


    The imp shook her head firmly. ¡°No! Fiends eat weaker demons ¨C especially imps. They are predators. They don¡¯t burn, and they''re much stronger than us.¡±


    Ed grunted, and dug around in the little pocket in his sleeve for a pinch of tobacco. He packed it into his pipe, thinking.


    ¡°So, you want me to kill it for you so this fiend doesn¡¯t eat them all, probably. Does that mean all those mean little baby imps are gonna get attached to me? I don¡¯t know that I need a passel of little demons following me around. Especially not back home, if I¡¯m guessing where this is going.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Jori said firmly. ¡°They will be free!¡±


    Ed scoffed. ¡°Down here? Free to follow us around, or get picked up by the next bigger, meaner demon that finds them, you mean.¡±


    Jori grinned, and Ed could see the fire burning behind her eyes. ¡°Free to run from the Great Ones, to hide, or to fight!¡±

 3.11 Lessons

    Bernt¡¯s knees ached as he triple-checked the chalk markings on the stone behind his desk. It was already late in the evening ¨C he''d spent most of the day poring over Iriala''s history book. From the reading material alone, he could already tell that Iriala was going to be a difficult task master. The book provided an accounting of many disparate events that felt disconnected, though Bernt was sure that wasn''t the case.


    The text casually referred to other events, rulers, sects and traditions that he''d never heard of. The stupid book was written for scholars, not someone like him. He didn''t have the proper context to understand the larger picture that the book was trying to convey. It was frustrating, and he couldn''t help but feel like Iriala had told him to start there on purpose. She was probably trying to nudge him into doing his own additional research at the library. That, or she just wanted to put him in his place. Tomorrow, he''d try some of the other books ¨C maybe they''d make more sense. But there was no way he¡¯d go home to sleep before he tested this.


    The rune circle in front of him wasn¡¯t his own design ¨C he¡¯d copied it from a book ¨C but that didn¡¯t mean he could afford to be sloppy.


    Familiar bonds didn¡¯t create a direct connection between the caster and the familiar the way most people imagined. There was no mutual mind-linking or control spell at work, no magical tether. Conceptually, they were much simpler than that.


    Souls were loud, magically speaking. They sent echoes of themselves vibrating through the ambient mana all around. Familiar bonds took advantage of that by keying the spirit of the caster to resonate with that of the intended familiar. From there, the link was mutual and entirely passive. Both would, to an extent, feel and sense the same things as their familiar, though obviously much less intensely.


    In the mortal world, the intensity of the transmission was largely dependent on proximity. In the hells¡­ well, the fact that Bernt could still sense Jori at all was dumbfounding. He had no idea what to make of it, but at least it was working in his favor, for now. He had a connection, so he didn¡¯t need to understand everything to make it work for him.


    The circle in front of him was designed to read the resonant frequency of his own spirit, and then to collect and amplify all similar frequencies back at him. To try it, though, he had to get into the circle and open his spirit to influence from the circle. Even relatively simple rune circles weren¡¯t toys ¨C if he¡¯d messed up any of the markings, all kinds of terrible things could happen to him. Hence, why he was triple checking the entire thing.


    He should have gone to visit Therion and told him about the bond. Doing this alone was stupid. Besides, the other mage had a broader education than Bernt did and might have some valuable input. But¡­ he didn¡¯t want to wait anymore. And the circle was perfect, he was sure of it.


    Taking a deep breath Bernt stepped forward into the circle and closed his eyes, concentrating on his connection to Jori.


    Rushing water filled his senses. Not real water, of course ¨C it was the bond as it filled his mind with unintelligible noise. It was louder, for lack of a better description, but no clearer than before. He still couldn¡¯t discern anything specific from it ¨C just that Jori was alive and feeling something that might have been a sense of satisfaction. Even that, though, was more of an intuitive guess than anything else. It was too¡­ fuzzy.


    Letting out a breath, Bernt stepped out of the circle again. It sort of worked, in the sense that it amplified the bond, but it didn¡¯t do anything to clarify what he was getting from it. He would have to try something else. That meant the time for guesswork was over. He needed to talk to someone who knew more about familiar bonds ¨C and probably planar theory. Someone who wasn¡¯t a warlock.


    Only one name came to mind, but could he trust him with this? He¡¯d have to think about it.


    ***


    Bernt spent the next morning skimming through the primers on the four gods who sponsored the Invigilation. He¡¯d never bothered much with religion, outside the occasional offering at the Temple of Aedina before a big test day at the Academy. It was traditional for students to bring the goddess of knowledge and learning symbols of their ignorance, followed later with proof of their intellectual growth.


    Idly, Bernt wondered if he should submit a copy of his banefire spell to the temple. He might get a minor blessing out of it. But it wouldn¡¯t work if he went there to procrastinate having to read all this crap.


    Of course, Bernt already knew who the major gods were ¨C at least those worshiped by humans. But that didn¡¯t mean he¡¯d bothered to study theology or to memorize all their ancient mythology. Gods were extremely dangerous and sometimes capricious, but none of them would go after a normal person who was just minding their own business. That had always suited Bernt just fine.


    The texts were easier to follow than the history text the day before, but they were terribly dry, plainly explaining the role of each god and their relationships to all the other gods, various peoples, places and even abstract concepts. Balarian, for example, was the patron of trade and the winds, and was most highly honored in Illuria. The text went on and on about the use of his priests on trading vessels in the Illurian Sea, his island temples, and a string of wars against the merpeople where he was supposed to have played a pivotal role.


    Noruk was most closely associated with Madzhur and Eyeli with Besermark, and by the sound of it, each of them had spawned enough history and lore to fill a library on their own.


    The only thing that truly surprised Bernt was that Kallrix, despite being a maritime power like Illuria, apparently revered Ruzinia above all others. She was a young goddess, relatively speaking, only dating back to the early Imperial Age, where she apparently opposed the spread of human civilization ¨C at least, according to imperial records.


    The early Madurian Empire had pressed ever southward from Mahat¡¯Ur, driving orcs, humans and trolls down into the coastal lowlands that had, until that point, been occupied by small warring tribes of seafaring goblins. That should have resulted in another chaotic war, but against all expectations, the goblins didn¡¯t fight. They welcomed the foreigners with open arms, citing the will of their ¡°great spirit¡±, which they called Rixin. According to the temple itself, this was the first direct written reference to Ruzinia.


    The result was the first Kallrixian Republic, which would go on to resist Madurian expansion for over a century before its fall. Once it did, worship of the goddess spread throughout the empire, carried on a tide of desperate refugees as they fled from their ravaged homeland.


    Ruzinia was considered a minor goddess, despite her reputation for raising great heroes in times of need ¨C Bernt had never considered that she might be a bigger deal elsewhere. More surprisingly, though, this implied something potentially curious about the natural spirits that goblins worshiped. Were they all just minor deities of some kind? If that was true, where was the line between a shaman and a priest?This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The priests he knew of mostly treated goblins and other shamanistic peoples as lesser heathens. But what was the difference, really? And why did no one ever talk about it? Bernt couldn¡¯t imagine that the temples themselves wouldn¡¯t have the answer. He would have to ask Torvald about it when he got a chance.


    Closing the book, Bernt got up and began to make his way down the hallway to the stairs. He was starving and it was well past lunch time. But first, he had another stop to make. He needed help, and he wasn¡¯t going to get anywhere if he didn¡¯t take any risks. It was time to talk to Hallan.


    ***


    The librarian who opened the door was not Hallan, but rather an older woman who looked pointedly down her nose at him with narrowed eyes when she opened the door. Also unlike his former classmate, she asked him to ¡°sign in¡± using a broad, runed cylinder of some kind, which he had to submit a sample of his mana to.


    Bernt carefully made sure to use his left hand, so as not to destroy the heavily enchanted object.


    Nothing happened, and the woman looked at him with a sour face.


    ¡°All set.¡± she said curtly. ¡°Might I help you find something?¡±


    Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°Yes, actually. Do you know where I can find Hallan?¡±


    She grunted and waved him off. ¡°Try the medical texts. He was giving a consultation the last I saw.¡±


    Bernt made his way down the stacks, looking for the appropriate section. They weren¡¯t clearly labeled as far as Bernt could see. Instead, each row was marked with a number, and smaller sections in each row were marked with runes. He assumed there was more to their organizational system, but from what he could see it was all very unclear.


    Fortunately, he wasn¡¯t looking for a book, so he just glanced down each row as he went.


    He¡¯d almost made it to the tablet library when he finally found someone ¨C but it wasn¡¯t Hallan. Therion held a small stack of books in one arm as he awkwardly flipped through the one on top. He looked up at Bernt¡¯s approach and nodded a greeting.


    ¡°Hey Bernt! Doing some reading?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Bernt replied, ¡°something like that. How¡¯s your dad?¡± He''d been meaning to go and check on Therion again since the battle, but he hadn''t had time. He felt a little guilty for it now.


    ¡°Better," Terion said. "He¡¯s eating on his own, but he still won¡¯t talk. I¡¯m looking for possible therapies that might help. There¡¯s really a lot more here than I expected.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great! Good to hear. I didn¡¯t realize they even had that kind of information here.¡± Bernt looked at the books around him. A treatise on chronic fatigue, a text on the causes of hallucinations, an exhaustive compilation of spells for first aid ¨C all medical texts. ¡°I hope he¡¯s back on his feet soon. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild is probably lost without him.¡±


    Therion chuckled half-heartedly. ¡°Probably. The Rangers certainly aren¡¯t the same. A few of them come to check on him every couple of days.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good, I¡¯m sure seeing people he knows has got to help.¡± Bernt paused awkwardly, unsure of what to say. ¡°Uh, I actually came looking for Hallan. Did you know he works here? The librarian up front told me he was doing a consultation in the medical section.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± Therion said, sounding relieved at the change of topic. ¡°He¡¯s helped me out a few times. I don¡¯t know where he wandered off to, but he¡¯ll be around here somewhere. What do you need him for?¡±


    Just as he asked, Bernt caught sight of the librarian as he turned down the stack and headed toward them. He waved when he saw them and grinned.


    ¡°Bernt! What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to see if you know anything about planar theory,¡± Bernt said, deciding not to dance around the issue. ¡°It¡¯s about that thing with the familiar bonds I was looking into.¡±


    Hallan stared at him, suddenly looking alarmed. ¡°You didn¡¯t! No, no you couldn¡¯t. What¡¯s going on? You better not be doing what it sounds like you¡¯re doing!¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not trying to summon and bond an elemental.¡± Bernt said patiently. ¡°I already have a familiar, and she¡¯s trapped on another plane, but the bond didn¡¯t break.¡±


    ¡°She? Okay, so, not an elemental, then.¡± Hallan threw a glance at Therion, who gave him mischievous grin that reminded Bernt eerily of his father, Garius.


    He looked back at Bernt suspiciously. ¡°What plane?¡±


    ***


    ¡°You bonded a demon?¡± Hallan said incredulously. Bernt had pulled his friends off into one of the small reading rooms, away from potential prying ears, explaining to Hallan about Jori as he went. ¡°Are you completely insane?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine!¡± Bernt protested, trying not to sound too defensive. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t know what all the fuss is about. She¡¯s more intelligent than an animal, friendly, and she can throw balls of fire. What¡¯s not to like?¡±


    ¡°Maybe that linking your mind to a demon could easily drive you insane in minutes?¡± Hallan hissed. ¡°Do you have any idea how alien an extraplanar entity¡¯s mind can be?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Therion interjected. ¡°I thought she was nice. She really saved our asses in the dungeon. Besides, she¡¯s a hero! Haven¡¯t you heard?¡±


    Hallan¡¯s mouth dropped open a bit, and his gaze flicked from Therion back to Bernt. They could practically see the gears turn in Hallan¡¯s brain as he realized exactly which demon they were talking about.


    ¡°Look, I know demons are dangerous.¡± Bernt explained. ¡°But Jori¡­ well, she was pretty much like a cat when I found her. Or, what I imagine a cat¡¯s mind would be like. I imagine it helps to bond them early. The point is, I want to reestablish communication with her. She¡¯s trapped in the hells, and she¡¯s pretty much reliant on the Solicitors for all outside contact. I don¡¯t like that, and I think I should be able to fix it at least that last bit, assuming that I can figure out exactly what the problem is.¡±


    ¡°Wait, hold on.¡± Hallan said, holding up both hands. ¡°Doesn¡¯t this make you a warlock, at least in every practical sense? How are you even a guild member? And wouldn¡¯t the Solicitors take issue with something like this?¡±


    ¡°I have an arrangement with all the relevant parties. You¡¯re welcome to ask archmage Iriala about it. I¡¯d appreciate it if you¡¯d leave out the part about the familiar bond still working, though. I¡¯d like to keep that quiet if I can. I definitely don¡¯t want it getting back to the Solicitors, assuming they don¡¯t already know.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ it is strange that it¡¯s still working.¡± Hallan conceded, scratching at his head. ¡°Familiar bonds are spatial, but you¡¯re not in the same space. At least not in the conventional sense of the word. There shouldn¡¯t really be any way for you to still sense her.¡±


    And just like that, Bernt knew he¡¯d won him over. He¡¯d piqued the librarian¡¯s curiosity, and he knew the man well enough to know he would have to scratch that itch.


    ¡°I tried simple amplification, and that doesn¡¯t work. I need to figure out how the connection is reaching me in the mortal world. I know how the elemental planes connect, but I think the hells are fundamentally different. There aren¡¯t any hell confluences, so what is the connection?¡±


    Hallan gave him a strange look, but it was Therion who answered.


    ¡°Souls transit freely into the hells, right? Do you really need a tangible connection for that? I mean, familiar bonds are transmitted through ambient mana. As long as there¡¯s mana between here and where Jori is, your connection should work, right?¡±


    Bernt blinked. That was a good point.


    ¡°So¡­ the better question might be why it¡¯s so constant, now. The connection doesn¡¯t get weaker depending on where I go anymore, and it¡¯s still pretty strong ¨C just very indistinct.¡± Bernt paused and fixed his gaze on Hallan. ¡°Want to help me figure it out?¡±


    Hallan looked conflicted for a moment and made a frustrated noise, but then he nodded. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll help. But you owe me for this. Honestly ¨C bonding a demon!¡±

 3.12 Give Me Your Tired

    Bernt pulled an icy hand from where he''d been warming them in his sleeves to wave to Palina as he entered the tunnel down to the Undercity, dodging oncoming traffic to skirt around a group of weary-looking people who were slowly shuffling down the passage. Snow hadn¡¯t fallen yet, but it was clear that winter had arrived. He wished he¡¯d remembered to bring a scarf and mittens, but they were still in his chest at home. The Undercity was always temperate, which made it a more difficult to dress appropriately for the weather on the surface.


    He¡¯d made it mostly past the group when he realized they weren¡¯t from here. No, these were orcs. Unusually smelly orcs, for that matter. They were wet and dressed poorly for the chilly winter weather. One was barefoot, and several others had gaping holes in their shoes. One held a small child on his arm, trying to keep the ragged remains of his coat wrapped over it.


    They were refugees from Loamfurth. Probably some of the first ¨C those who were healthy and strong, but traveling light. If those who followed were as badly prepared as these people, they were going to see cases of frostbite before long.


    Fiora and the other Underkeepers would have their hands full tonight.


    Making a decision, Bernt hurried down the tunnel, making for the Underkeepers¡¯ Complex. A shift change was coming up in a few minutes, but he expected a lot of people would have to stay to deal with the incoming refugees. He could help. He¡¯d just been sitting around all day, after all, and he wasn¡¯t really ready to go home to his empty house just yet. Maybe he could catch up with Nirlig and Torvald.


    Torvald, at least, deserved to know what was going on with his new assignment at the Mages¡¯ Guild. Sure, he would do as Iriala asked, but that didn¡¯t mean he had to lie about it to his friends. Besides, he''d barely talked to anyone outside of the Mages'' Guild in days. That just wasn''t any way to live.


    Bernt was pulled from his thoughts as he exited the tunnel and found a knot of uncertain-looking people already starting to form just inside the Undercity Market ¨C mostly boys and young men who had probably been sent ahead by their slower-moving families. They were probably trying to find the best accomodations or paid work before the main body of refugees got here. He adjusted his course and approached them.


    ¡°Excuse me!¡± Bernt called out, using his best imitation of the late Glim to project a sense of authority. ¡°If you¡¯re new here, you¡¯ll need to register at the Underkeeper¡¯s headquarters to be granted temporary housing ¨C middle of the cavern on your right. Over that way.¡±


    About half of them turned his way, and a few nodded or grunted in acknowledgement. Others, too exhausted to pay attention, just sat listlessly against the walls and stared at nothing.


    Bernt took a breath, about to start shaking people awake and directing them individually, when a short, stocky man pushed his way out of the crowd, craning his neck to get a look at him.


    ¡°Bernt! Is that you over there?¡±


    The man looked absolutely terrible, his robes torn and hanging off him in rags. There were new, thin scars on his arms and face, and some of his long, matted hair had been singed off. To top it all off, he was filthy. That was normal for your average refugee who''d just spent over a week on the run, but not for a hyrdomancer.


    ¡°Uriah?¡± Bernt said, shocked at the sight. ¡°You look like shit! What in all the hells happened?¡±


    ¡°Demons, Bernt. Demons happened.¡± Uriah clenched his fists, his eyes losing focus for a moment. ¡°The damned guards up there wouldn¡¯t let me report to the count. They think I¡¯m crazy! Can you get me in to see Ed? I need to talk to him ¨C right now.¡±


    ***


    Bernt took Uriah directly to Fiora, letting him talk along the way. It was clear the he had been through something horrific, though he avoided talking about Loamfurth in detail. Instead, he rambled on about the conditions on the road and a group of hungry bandits that had tried to take a poke at the refugees a few days up the road.


    ¡°I warned them,¡± Uriah groaned, wild eyed. ¡°I told them that none of us had anything valuable. That it wasn''t worth it. Honest people, no merchants here with us. There wasn''t time to grab anything when the demons came. We ran, all of us. No valuables.¡° The other mage stopped for a moment and wiped at his face, leaving a smudge on it. "They wouldn''t leave it. Stupid bandits. No, they just wouldn''t listen. Those idiots!¡±


    ¡°It''s alright, Uriah.¡± Bernt said. He could guess what happened. ¡°You did the right thing.¡±


    But Uriah kept rambling. Bernt had felt uncomfortable the first time he''d killed someone. He still felt uncomfortable, even though it was easier now. Uriah... well, it was clear that he was more than uncomfortable. He was traumatized both by what had happened to him and what he himself had done. He only stopped talking when Bernt opened the office door, revealing Fiora scribbling something on a form behind her desk. She looked up as they entered and froze as she caught sight of their former colleague.


    ¡°Uriah? You look like something the cat dragged in.¡±


    ¡°Ah... Fiora?¡± he asked, looking back at Bernt in confusion. ¡°Where¡¯s Ed?¡±


    Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°Ed¡¯s indisposed. The Solicitors set up a banishment ritual in the battle over here ¨C just outside, actually. There was an accident. They¡¯re working on getting him back, but they¡¯re not exactly posting updates in the market square about it.¡±


    ¡°You mean¡­no. No, no, no. How is that even possible!?¡± Uriah¡¯s jaw clenched as he visibly got himself under control. ¡°It¡¯s those damned warlocks! Those Duergar could never pull this off alone ¨C they came up right under the middle of the city! I bet they¡¯re working together. We need to do something!¡± He took a step back from Bernt, suddenly eyeing him with unnerving intensity.


    ¡°Hey, you had that demon, right. What happened to that?¡±


    ¡°Uriah!¡± Fiora snapped. ¡°Control yourself. Bernt here was just leaving, anyway.¡± She gave him a pointed look, and Bernt took the hint, backing out of the room. Whatever Uriah had been through, he doubted the man would ever be quite the same.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Not bothering to wait for orders, Bernt went to Ed¡¯s office to collect a stack of application forms for assignment to temporary housing and brought them out to the courtyard. The guard outside had helpfully propped the double doors open, and the refugees who¡¯d been listening earlier were already there and waiting. But they weren¡¯t alone.


    Torvald had already dragged out a table and was noting down a dwarf¡¯s information on a form exactly like the ones Bernt was holding. At the same time, two other Underkeepers worked to get everyone into some semblance of a line, even as more refugees trickled in. The paladin looked up and waved when he saw Bernt approach.


    ¡°Hey Bernt! You¡¯re on the late shift, right? Want to give me a hand with this?¡±


    ¡°Sure, already on it,¡± he replied, waving the stack of forms at him as he moved to get a table of his own into position next to the paladin, ¡°but no to the late shift. I was working at the Mages¡¯ Guild. The archmage wants to make sure I¡¯m properly prepared to represent the guild¡¯s interests.¡±


    Torval snorted as he handed the form to the dwarf. ¡°It¡¯s like that, huh?¡±


    ¡°I guess, yeah. She already knew ¨C no idea how. It¡¯s weird. I¡¯m not even supposed to know anything, yet. What''s the point of all the formality if all the decisions have already been made and everyone already knows everything?¡±


    The paladin shrugged at him and took a moment to explain to the dwarf where to find the address to his new temporary accommodations in the refugee quarter before resuming the conversation.


    ¡°The Mages¡¯ Guild has close ties to the government, so I guess it makes sense. Just don''t forget why you''re there.¡± He paused to give Bernt a serious look, emphasizing his words. ¡°I wanted you along to help keep me out of politics. I¡¯m not here to push whatever agenda your guild has in all this. I don''t care what the archmage wants from you, but don''t get me wrapped up in the guild''s business. I only serve one master.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the goal,¡± Bernt said, nodding. ¡°Don''t worry.¡±


    He wasn''t going to pull Torvald into anything, of course. But that didn''t mean he''d be able to avoid politics, himself. Iriala¡¯s words gnawed at him ¨C that those who didn¡¯t shape events themselves would be shaped by them in turn. They rang true, not least because they confirmed what Bernt had always known about the rich and powerful. They saw their lessers as tools, and they saw everyone as their lesser. Torvald might be able to get around that ¨C he had a goddess on his side. Bernt, though¡­ he didn¡¯t have that kind of protection.


    ***


    Jori stalked along the narrow rocky ridge with her nose in the air, scouting ahead of Ed, who followed along behind and below her. She could smell the blood fiend¡¯s stench in the air up ahead. They were getting close.


    She wasn¡¯t entirely sure if her sense of smell had improved naturally, as a result of her evolution, or because of her improved sorcerous spirit. She supposed it didn¡¯t really matter, but she was sure that Bernt would want to know. Maybe they could figure it out later.


    Ducking down, Jori cautiously crept up to the crest of the ridge and peered over. Her breath caught in her throat when she did, and she froze for a second before carefully pulling her head back down. A familiar-looking imp foraged less than ten steps away, mostly facing away from her. His name was Maladzhoth, and it looked like he¡¯d managed to undergo his first metamorphosis.


    He flipped a rock with a clatter and pawed down into the cracks of the rocks underneath, coming up with a cockroach-like bug, which he immediately crunched down on.


    The sight brought back unwelcome memories, and Jori shuddered, remembering the taste of the things vividly. They were bitter, and their insides had burned her throat. But they were also the biggest things available to eat out here for a demon. A non-cannibal demon, anyway. Stupid fiends.


    Jori gritted her teeth and signalled down to Ed, telling him to stop. Then, she crept along below the ridgeline to her right, closer to where Maladzhoth was eating.


    Being extremely careful not to step on any loose rocks, she took another peek.


    Perfect.


    Checking her footing, Jori crouched down, let out a slow breath, and pounced, spreading her wings to extend the distance of her leap just a bit. Maladzhoth heard her and turned, lightning quick, but it was too late. Jori crashed into him, one hand closing around the other imp¡¯s neck. He landed hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him and cushioning Jori¡¯s fall in the process.


    Maladzhoth hissed in pain and raised his legs to kick at her, but she sank her claws partway into his neck in warning and he stopped, eyes bulging.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Jori hissed. ¡°I got you! You¡¯re my prisoner, okay? You have to do what I say.¡±


    She withdrew her claws, coated in burning blood, and the other imp nodded. She noted idly that the hellfire didn¡¯t burn her hands anymore. That was great!


    ¡°Dzhorianath?¡± Maladhzoth asked, eyeing her. ¡°You¡¯re big!¡± Then he batted at her, hissing angrily. ¡°Get off me! You didn¡¯t have to hit me so hard. That hurt!¡±


    ¡°Quiet!¡± Jori hissed, and smacked at him with her free hand. Still grumbling, he stopped resisting as she hauled him bodily over the ridge and down toward Ed. After a moment, he got his feet under him and walked on his own, though Jori¡¯s claws were still on his neck.


    ¡°Wait a second.¡± Maladzoth said when he caught sight of Ed. ¡°You¡¯re back home with your mortal? How? You can¡¯t do that!¡±


    ¡°Of course I can!¡± she replied. ¡°I¡¯m doing it right now!¡±


    Her prisoner slowed for a moment and threw a glance back at her, eyes narrowed. ¡±Ah, it¡¯s a double cross, right? You brought him back so the Great Ones will kill him for you?¡±


    Jori stopped, peering at him in confusion. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Nuros wants to have you ¨C everybody knows. You¡¯ll be a great one, soon. There is a reward for whoever kills the mortal and clears your obligation. Can I ¨C ouch!¡±


    Jori smacked Maladzhoth over the back of the head so hard that he would have stumbled forward if she hadn¡¯t already been holding on to his neck with her other hand.


    ¡°Nobody kills the Great Mage!¡± she growled angrily, getting him moving down toward Ed again. ¡°He¡¯s going to help us kill Tallash. I¡¯m going to free the pack!¡±


    Ed watched calmly as the two imps approached before casting a spell to bind the prisoner¡¯s hands and feet.


    ¡°You know, Jori, I don¡¯t think he really meant me.¡± Ed said conversationally, as if overhearing what they¡¯d been saying a hundred steps away wasn¡¯t in any way unusual. Jori looked up at him in surprise. Did he have some kind of listening spell? Could she learn something like that?


    ¡°Wait, he¡¯s the wrong one?¡± Maladzoth grumphed and rolled his eyes. ¡°Mortals all look alike.¡±


    ¡°He said they want to clear your obligation,¡± the archmage continued. ¡°So, they¡¯re after Bernt. Doesn¡¯t that sound exactly like what you want to do with that fiend that has your little imp friends? I suppose that means they don¡¯t know the nature of your relationship. Do they think you two have a pact?¡±


    ¡°I won''t serve someone who kills Bernt!¡± Jori hissed angrily. ¡°That''s stupid. I''ll burn them from the inside like I did Nuros. I''ll do it and then I''ll eat their soul.¡±


    ¡°Right, but they don''t know that, right? They''ll think it works just like when we kill Tallash, won''t they?" Ed asked.


    ¡°Well, then they''re stupid.¡± Jori said grumpily. ¡°I am not a servant.¡±

 3.13 Priorities

    ¡°Tell me what you¡¯ve worked out about the Temples, so far,¡± Iriala demanded, stabbing her fork into some greens. She¡¯d summoned Bernt to her office for lunch ¨C the second time she¡¯d done so since he¡¯d been reassigned to the guild.


    The first time around, she¡¯d grilled him about post-Madurian history. He¡¯d answered her questions as best he could, but the archmage had exacting standards. Sure, he knew what happened and when, but she¡¯d wanted interpretation and applicability in the modern context.


    This time, he¡¯d come prepared to do better.


    ¡°They don¡¯t really get along,¡± Bernt said. ¡°The Invigilation isn¡¯t really an alliance of like-minded gods, or their temples. If you look at their writings, it¡¯s clear that they really only have one thing in common ¨C they¡¯re all interventionists.¡±


    Iriala looked at him over her glasses for a moment and then resumed eating. Bernt took her silence for confirmation that he was on the right track.


    ¡°All of the gods had good reason to take offense at the purge of their temples in Mahat¡¯Ur, but only those four actually intervened personally. Working together probably only served to ensure that a more conservative god, like Oreleth, or Rouan, wouldn¡¯t challenge them for their direct interference. After all, their actions nearly led to the destruction of human civilization. They were taking a risk.¡±


    ¡°Good. What does that mean for us?¡± Iriala asked. ¡°Specifically, with regard to political influence.¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°It means we can deal with each temple individually. Each of them have relatively simple and predictable objectives and interests. Noruk wants to facilitate unity through conquest, while Balarian likes freedom, novelty and heterogeneity. Eyeli wants to create prosperity through order and growth, and Ruzinia just wants to save everyone, somehow.¡±


    ¡°Which means,¡± Iriala finished, offering him a small nod, ¡°that getting an individual temple¡¯s support is often as simple as aligning your actions and objectives with their relatively simple interests.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Bernt said. ¡°But what are our objectives? You haven¡¯t even told me what our interests are. The guild, I mean. What do you want me to get out of it for you?¡±


    Iriala scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s not about me. The Mages¡¯ Guild is a powerful institution in Besermark ¨C and the oldest one, for that matter. We aren¡¯t the most popular, the largest, or the wealthiest guild, but we¡¯ve always been closest to the ears of the powerful. We¡¯ve represented the backbone of every human military and every center of learning and academics since the Madurian Empire. We are their true legacy, more than the nobility or the temples or any other institution. Every ruling noble in the country has a court mage to advise them ¨C not a court priest or a court berserker.¡±


    Bernt took a bite of his own lunch ¨C a sadly bland vegetable wrap he¡¯d bought at a nearby market for a few coppers ¨C and chewed unenthusiastically to give himself a moment to think. ¡°So, we just want to make sure we¡¯re part of the action? So we don¡¯t lose face?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Iriala said bluntly. ¡°Of course not. We want to prevent a massive war from breaking out if at all possible. Chaos is the catalyst for political and societal change, and the guild has a lot to lose. We¡¯re vulnerable. Our guild is active in infrastructure management, communication, security and warding, medicine, construction, agriculture and nearly every major industry in the country. We already lose too many fresh academy graduates to the military ¨C we absolutely can¡¯t afford to have hundreds of our guild mages drafted and killed fighting the Duergar. The entire country¡¯s economy would collapse. And that would be if we win!¡±


    ¡°Right, and the king can¡¯t afford that either,¡± Bernt said slowly, as several other facts finally clicked into place in his mind. ¡°That¡¯s why the count and the guilds are just letting the Temples take over like this, right? The crown can''t afford to fund a massive war alone. If the Invigilation is in charge, they¡¯ll have to use their own resources, and also pull in all of our neighbors to share the load.¡±


    Iriala shrugged. ¡°If it comes to that. Our interests are clear. We need the Invigilation to take things one step at a time ¨C to reach out to the Duergar¡¯s Imperial Council and discover their intentions. I expect that they don¡¯t understand the extent to which their vassal is trafficking with demons. If we¡¯re lucky, they¡¯ll simply fight amongst themselves and leave us out of it entirely.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ that would be ideal.¡±


    Bernt tried to imagine it. It sounded too good to be true, considering how things had been going.


    ¡°It would,¡± Iriala agreed, ¡°but there¡¯s no chance of that happening if Noruk¡¯s warmongers march an army of fanatics down there first. The only way to reach the best possible future is to make that future for ourselves. So, we know what Noruk wants ¨C he and his priests are obviously not a potential ally. What have you learned about Eyeli?¡±


    ***


    Bernt left the lunch meeting disturbed by the implications of what the archmage had told him. Did Iriala seriously expect him to single-handedly influence the entire Invigilation to do as she wished? That seemed ridiculous. On the upside, he didn''t think he he would need to convince Torvald to speak out against invading a foreign empire on Noruk¡¯s say so. But what was that worth?


    How much weight would Torvald¡¯s word carry? Bernt wasn¡¯t part of the conclave ¨C he could only try to talk to people informally. But why would anyone at the Sacral Peaks listen to him? How did Iriala expect him to change anything?


    Trying to banish the looming sense of dread that had formed in the pit of his stomach over the course of the meeting, Bernt dropped by Magister Pollock¡¯s office to discuss potential experiments that he could run in the Phoenix Reaches. Despite himself, though, he quickly found himself derailing the conversation and spilling his worries out to the old man, starting with the lunch meeting, and explaining backwards to where he agreed to become Torvald¡¯s legitimator.


    ¡°Take a breath, boy.¡± Pollock admonished him. ¡°Iriala has always been too focused on her schemes, you hear me? The world will burn tomorrow, or it won¡¯t.¡±


    The old man leaned forward, tapping on the pages of Bernt¡¯s notes on his desk as he met his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s all just a distraction. This, right here, is real history.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°The archmage says this could impact the future of the entire guild, and all of Besermark with it! How can I ignore that?!¡±


    Pollock shrugged. ¡°A few cities more or less in the world ¨C that¡¯s a concern for kings and emperors. That¡¯s why they get to wear a golden hat! Powerful people with more knowledge and experience than you are already working to protect the status quo ¨C that¡¯s what Iriala wants, is it not?¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡± Bernt conceded. ¡°She didn¡¯t sound confident that things would go our way, though, and she expects me to help.¡±


    ¡°Pfff." Pollock chuffed. "There¡¯s always something threatening the kingdom. You just never hear about most of it. When you can, you should leave those concerns to the people who are best equipped to deal with them. Iriala is too focused on high-level concerns. You need to consider what you can do better than anyone else.¡±


    Bernt looked down at the notes the old wizard had been poking at a moment before.


    ¡°Experiments?¡±


    ¡°Research!¡± Pollock corrected him emphatically. ¡°Research into the applications of sorcery and sorcerous investitures in magecraft. Preventing a larger war is laudable, but it¡¯s a poor use of your time and abilities. These experiments are important! Far more important than politicking with priests. You invented a method for restoring burnt out war mages to service. Perfecting that, and developing yourself to see where we can take it in the future, would make a huge difference. Instead of supplying guild mages for a war, for example, we could restore trained veterans in trade. It would strengthen both the guild and the entire country as a whole!¡±


    Bernt blinked at Pollock, surprised at the frustration that had crept in his voice as he spoke. ¡°Uh. I heard that former war mages were already using it, actually. Fiora ¨C my boss ¨C was a war mage. She said that mages would have started using my method the moment they heard about it.¡±


    Pollock scoffed dismissively. ¡°All the more reason to speed this along! Without a proper, officially sanctioned procedure, you¡¯ll have people burning their spirits to cinders with improperly optimized hellfire derivatives. This sort of thing needs to be done in a controlled environment with trained experts!¡±


    That seemed more than a little hypocritical to Bernt, considering the kinds of risks that Pollock considered entirely justified for himself and wizards in general. Still, it didn''t seem wise to point that out right now.


    ¡°Alright, then, why don¡¯t we go to Iriala and ask her about it? I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll see the sense behind it if we explain it like that. Maybe I could bring an entire research team along!¡±


    ¡°I have.¡± Pollock said, sounding suddenly exhausted. ¡°I¡¯ve been hounding her about it for weeks. She¡¯s too conservative ¨C says I¡¯m pushing you too fast, and that the guild in Teres needs to get used to the idea before we can get anything officially endorsed. There¡¯s a lot of resistance there to the idea that ¡®primitive¡¯ magic like sorcery should have a place in the guild at all.¡±


    Bernt ran a hand through his hair and tried not to curse. ¡°So, I actually have two important jobs to do, but I can only get support for the one that I¡¯m unqualified for,¡± he concluded, the earlier sense of dread he¡¯d been feeling returning, now redoubled.


    ¡°Nonsense!¡± The old wizard cackled. ¡°You have one job and I¡¯ll help you with it. The one Iriala gave you is a waste of time. But she¡¯s still throwing lots of time and guild resources your way, and that is not a waste. A good general education never is.¡± He picked up the notepaper in front of him and waved it in front of Bernt¡¯s face.


    ¡°Now, I have to ask, what exactly do you hope to learn by summoning a lesser flame sprite?¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°I want to toss one into a rune circle to see if it¡¯ll unravel into a spellform. The description made it sound almost like a cross between a spell and an elemental. If I¡¯m lucky, I might be able to use it as a sort of bridging investiture.¡±


    "Hmmm." Pollock squinted at Bernt in consternation. Then, he opened his mouth, closed it again, crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling, considering. Finally, a slow crooked grin spread across his face.


    ¡°Well, it sounds like a long shot. But if it doesn''t work, you might still be able to harvest something from it that might support the growth of your sorcerous investiture. Either way, we''ll learn something new."


    ***


    By the time Bernt left to go home that night, he felt almost confident. Well, maybe confident was a bit of an exaggeration, but he had a direction. Goals that felt achievable. Sure, he would do what he¡¯d promised to Iriala and talk to whoever might listen at the Sacral Peaks. Ultimately, though, he was sure that Pollock was right. The biggest impact he could have was as a wizard, not as some kind of Mages¡¯ Guild diplomat.


    The old pyromancer had not only helped him refine his experiments, he¡¯d also given him a list of potential materials to look for. Most of those had already been in the reading materials Bernt had checked out about the Phoenix Reaches from the library, but Pollock¡¯s list included their uses in various mana network architectures, and even a few notes about alchemy and ritual magic.


    After stopping for a few sticky buns from a familiar-looking street vendor in the Temple District, Bernt made his way through the inner gate to the ruined Crafters¡¯ District. It was already dark out, and he could make out the shadowed silhouettes of Duergar prisoners as they repaired cracked foundations and laid new ones. Seeing them there, calmly working in the middle of Halfbridge still left a bad taste in his mouth.


    Tugging his scarf tighter around his neck, he hurried past, suddenly feeling unaccountably disturbed. Something felt wrong here. It was too quiet and too dark. He could still hear the noises made by the Duergar workers, of course, but the blood rushing through his ears was even louder.


    Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Bernt flinched, whirling around.


    A silhouette stood in the street behind him, nearly half as tall again as he was. Quick as a snake, the shadow reached for him, a creepy, six-fingered hand darting at his face. Bernt reacted even before he fully registered what he was seeing.


    Light flared in his right hand as he poured manaburn out into it and flung it forward toward his assailant.


    The liquid white fire missed, but only because the motion turned out to be unnecessary. As soon as it was exposed to the light, the shade collapsed down, stretching out along the ground away from him like the shadow of a man that wasn¡¯t there. It wriggled oddly, as if the demon were still trying to strike him, but it couldn¡¯t break out of its two-dimensional form. The shadow advanced, feet first. It briefly crept up onto his robes, but was forcibly pushed back by the light a moment later.


    Realizing what it was, Bernt lifted the flame flickering in his right hand to eliminate the nearby shadows as much as possible. At the same time, he formed banefire in his left. Dull gray fire kindled in his hand, but he never got a chance to use it. The shadow flickered once, recoiling, and was gone.


    Bernt whirled around, trying to find it, but there was nothing there. The Duergar were still working, though one was looking curiously at the light Bernt was holding up. Bernt glared at him until he looked away, and then turned to continue making his way to the Undercity. He¡¯d have to report this to the Solicitors, but he doubted any of them would still be in the office.


    Bernt cast a torch spell and set it hovering over his shoulder. He shivered, unable to shake the unnatural sense of terror and wrongness that had struck him right before the attack. That couldn''t be natural. He didn¡¯t care how many strange looks he got, he was never going anywhere without a light ever again.

 3.14 Demon Hunting

    ¡°Alright.¡± The pimply young solicitor said, pen scratching on paper as he took down Bernt¡¯s report. ¡°So, the shade had a three-dimensional shape in the darkness? It was standing up?¡±


    Bernt fidgeted, his arm bumping into a wall in the cramped, broom closet sized office at the Solicitors¡¯ temporary offices in the Crafters¡¯ Quarter. Their building in the Lower District was still undergoing repairs.


    ¡°Yes.¡± he confirmed. ¡°That¡¯s what I said.¡±


    ¡°But it couldn¡¯t hold it in the presence of a torch? And you¡¯re sure it attacked you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure ¨C it went directly for my face!¡± Bernt insisted, failing to keep the exasperation from his voice. He¡¯d come to try to talk to Radast or anyone who would actually be able to do something with the information that there were still enemy demons loose in Halfbridge. Instead, he¡¯d been met with Finn, whose job, as far as Bernt could tell, was to keep the public away from anyone who mattered. He wasn¡¯t even a warlock yet!


    ¡°Alright, perfect,¡± Finn said, signing the paper and inking some kind of stamp, which he pressed over the signature. ¡°Thank you for your report. I¡¯ll file it right away and get that taken care of for you.¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± Bernt glared at him. ¡°There¡¯s a shadowy demon that can pass through walls after me, and I¡¯m supposed to just wait around for the paperwork to process?! What if it comes back?¡±


    Finn shrugged uncomfortably. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that¡¯s really all I can do. A shade that can¡¯t manifest properly in torchlight conditions is a class two or three at best. It wouldn¡¯t have been corporeal enough to seriously injure you. Shades are spies and agents of terror, but we¡¯ve never recorded one below class four actually killing anyone.¡±


    Bernt grunted and narrowed his eyes at his opponent. As an experienced public servant, Bernt knew exactly what would happen to his report if he simply accepted defeat here and left. It would get filed at the bottom of a pile somewhere in the basement, where it would remain until it disintegrated. His report wasn¡¯t interesting or threatening enough to the public to merit an immediate response.


    At any other time, he was sure this would have been one of the most exciting things to happen to the Halfbridge Solicitors all year. But they were still picking up the pieces from the battle themselves, and they¡¯d been fighting demons all over the city for weeks while the Duergar were here. Right now, today, a single straggler probably just wasn¡¯t enough to rate a proper response. But Bernt was sure there was more to it. During the siege, the shades had acted as spies. So, why break cover now? As far as he knew, none of them had directly attacked anyone.


    ¡°You know, it was still trying to reach me after it lost its shape.¡± Bernt tried. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that seem unusual to you? Why would a secret spy reveal itself to take a shot at me if it didn¡¯t think it would work?¡±


    ¡°That¡­ is kind of strange.¡± Finn admitted, shifting uncomfortably. ¡°I don¡¯t know ¨C¡±


    ¡°Just take that report to someone who can do something with it and let them make the call, alright?¡± Bernt insisted. ¡°Go on. I¡¯ll wait.¡±


    He could practically see the young Solicitor waffling as he weighed the risk of irritating his superior against the opportunity to make him someone else¡¯s problem. He wished Josie were still here. She could have gotten him right through to Radast immediately, he was sure.


    What would Iriala say here? There had to be a way to get through this guy. Clearing his throat, Bernt gave it his best shot.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m not just going to drop this, alright? I understand if the Solicitors have higher priorities, but if you can¡¯t help me, I¡¯m just going to go to the Temple District. Maybe the Temple of Noruk? I heard the Invigilation is coming back, so maybe they should be handling these cases again, anyway. They''ll probably want to prove themselves anyway, after how little they contributed to the battle. They''ll want to prove that they''re still relevant, right?¡±


    The Solicitors¡¯ legitimacy as an organization was tied to their mandate to control demon activity in Besermark. Seeing the Temples act in the name of the Invigilation at all must be a serious concern for them. If the temples were to actually take over the day-to-day responsibilities of the Solicitors, it would threaten their reason to exist as an institution in the eyes of the crown. Sure, it wouldn¡¯t mean anything today, but who was to say that the Temples wouldn¡¯t seize on the idea if it were brought to their attention? Now, as long as Finn was aware of all that...


    The novice Solicitor scowled at him sourly.


    A few minutes later, Bernt found himself stepping into the office of Finn¡¯s boss, whose name was Ewa according to the sign on her door. He froze when he entered and saw who it was, but carefully kept his expression under control. She was the same elderly, gray-haired Solicitor who he¡¯d seen spreading rumors about Jori in the Temple District. Great.


    ¡°Underkeeper Bernard,¡± she greeted him formally as Finn left, closing the door behind him. ¡°Please recount the details of your encounter for me.¡±


    Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°I believe you¡¯ll find all the details in the report that Finn compiled. He was pretty thorough.¡±


    What was the point of writing up a report if they weren¡¯t even going to read it?


    ¡°Nonetheless, please humor me,¡± Ewa replied flatly.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Suppressing his irritation, Bernt explained what had happened, making sure to emphasize the tenacity of the demon.


    ¡°It was clearly still trying to reach me right up until I started to conjure banefire,¡± he finished, as the Solicitor nodded along.


    ¡°I see,¡± she said, jotting some notes down into the margins of Finn¡¯s report. ¡°You¡¯re right, the circumstances of your encounter are unusual, as such things go. I¡¯ll put someone on it today and let you know what we find.¡±


    Bernt ground his teeth, but he managed to keep his tone relatively mild. ¡°Is that all you can do?¡±


    Ewa nodded matter of factly. ¡°For now, yes. Catching a shade takes time. Besides, Finn was correct in his assessment of the demon¡¯s strength. Regardless of its aggression, the only injuries you might have suffered if it had managed to get its claws into you would have been psychological. Even then, you¡¯d have recovered in days.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Bernt said, trying to sound professional. Should he keep pushing? Radast already disliked him, so there was no point in trying to be friends, but he didn¡¯t actually want to antagonize the Solicitors. Sure, he wanted answers, but he didn¡¯t want to come across as someone who jumped at shadows, either.


    ¡°I look forward to hearing from you, then,¡± he excused himself. ¡°Thank you for seeing me.¡±


    What could this mean? He needed to get to the Mages¡¯ Guild and start his day. Still, whatever the Solicitors told him, he wasn¡¯t going to let his guard down until this shade problem was taken care of. As he left, he conjured a torch spell over his shoulder, just to be safe.


    ***


    Uriah sat in the break room of the new Underkeepers¡¯ Headquarters and sipped on a hot beverage ¨C some kind of tea. Fiora had let him sleep in one of the empty back rooms of the huge complex. She¡¯d offered him his old job back, too, but he wasn¡¯t so sure he wanted to take it.


    It was strange, seeing so many new faces mixed in with the occasional familiar ones. Kustov was sitting at a table with an old goblin woman, a human and a younger goblin who was missing a few fingers on the hand he held his cup with, chatting as if they were lifelong friends. And Ed was gone. Probably forever, if the rumors were true and all he had to get him back here was the word of Bernt¡¯s nasty little imp.


    ¡°A lot has changed around here,¡± he commented to Yarrod, who was digging into his lunch. ¡°What do you make of it?¡±


    Uriah had always liked the gnome. Most of the others seemed to resent their position as Underkeepers on some level, and it made them unpleasant company to work with. Yarrod hadn¡¯t volunteered for the job any more than Dayle and Fiora, but he¡¯d accepted his lot, just as Uriah himself had done. It was useful work, and the pay was good. What was there to complain about? At least, until someone burned your city down around your ears.


    Yarrod followed his gaze, his eyes briefly stopping on the goblins. ¡°Oh, I believe they¡¯re good sorts, for the most part,¡± he opined. ¡°Most of the goblins moved down here, it¡¯s only right that they step up in support of their community in matters of defense and security. I have been pleasantly surprised with respect to the incidence of crime in the Goblin Quarter. It is, frankly, better than what we see in the new Crafters¡¯ Quarter. I can¡¯t say I regret trading some of the sewer duties for security, myself.¡±


    Uriah scratched at his chin, idly noting that he needed to shave. ¡°I see. So they¡¯re doing sewer work, too? Isn¡¯t that dangerous? Underkeepers are mages for a reason. What do they do about mutants and slimes?¡±


    Yarrod chuckled. ¡°They have their own means ¨C some of them. We have shamans now, a druid, a witch, and who knows what else. Their use of magic is crude, I grant you, but they work well enough for the purpose. Are you concerned that you might be relegated to clearing goblin septic systems full-time if you rejoin us? I can assuage your concerns in that regard ¨C they handle it themselves.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that.¡± Uriah said, shaking his head. ¡°I never minded the work. But no, I¡¯m not so sure I want my job back. I came back to fight the demons! With Ed gone, I don¡¯t know which direction it¡¯s going to go around here.¡±


    Yarrod shrugged. ¡°We already won the battle here, I¡¯d say. If you¡¯re looking for a fight, you have to go where they¡¯ll be next. Why don¡¯t you try enlisting? Arice is still here, and I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯d turn down a hydromancer.¡±


    Uriah grimaced. ¡°Then you lack imagination, old friend. I¡¯m stalled, and not a magister. Besides, what I have is the wrong kind of architecture for a war mage. I can¡¯t adapt well anymore. They¡¯d never take me.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Pff! You don¡¯t need the endorsement of the crown to travel! Why don¡¯t you just join the adventurers?¡± Kustov asked. ¡°There are lots of parties with goblins out there nowadays, and you could travel all over the country.¡±


    Nirlig grimaced ambivalently. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ I don¡¯t really like it. They¡¯re basically just paid bandits, when you get right down to it. I don¡¯t want to burn down a poor gnoll village just because they got into some farmer¡¯s sheep. Being hungry isn¡¯t a crime. Or it shouldn¡¯t be, anyway.¡±


    ¡°The farmers would disagree. But you don¡¯t have to take any quests you don¡¯t want to, regardless.¡± Torvald argued. ¡°Some people don¡¯t fight at all, except in self defense. Aronard the herbalist just finds and retrieves rare plants for people, and he¡¯s famous!¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Nirlig smirked wryly, ¡°but finding rare and beautiful flowers for rich and lonely human noblewomen with nothing better to do isn¡¯t a very good business model for a goblin.¡±


    Torvald coughed and blushed a bit in embarrassment. ¡°Right, that¡¯s probably true.¡±


    ¡°What?! How can you know, if you will not try?¡± Lin said, cackling. ¡°You are a very handsome boy, Nirlig.¡±


    ¡°Lin!¡± Nirlig squirmed uncomfortably. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think¡­ and for humans? Ugh!¡±


    ¡°My mother told me the count is hiring the adventurers to provide security for our delegation to the Sacral Peaks.¡± Torvald interjected, taking pity on Nirlig and bringing the conversation back on track. ¡°Maybe you could get a spot to come along!¡±


    Nirlig gave him a skeptical look. ¡°You think they¡¯d take on someone with no record? I don¡¯t even have a party!¡±


    ¡°Well, you won¡¯t find out if you don¡¯t try.¡± Torvald insisted. ¡°You¡¯re part of a city guard force, and you fought in a major battle. Besides, it¡¯s a long way to travel and I doubt most adventurers around here will want to spend too much time on the road in winter ¨C especially if the Duergar and their demons find out about this and start coming after us. It¡¯s going to be dangerous.¡±


    Nirlig grinned. ¡°You¡¯re just saying that because you feel bad about not getting me appointed as your legitimator. But, you¡¯re right, that really doesn¡¯t sound like a very good time. ¡±


    Torvald opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again with a grimace. Nirlig was right.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± said a voice behind him, just as someone tapped him on the shoulder. The paladin twisted in his seat to find that a serious-looking man in gray Underkeeper¡¯s robes had approached their table. His eyes were fixed on him and burned with a kind of feverish intensity that reminded him oddly of Hannis, the high priest of Noruk. ¡°Did you say you were going to fight demons?¡±

 3.15 Hypothesis

    The next several days, Bernt focused as best he could on working his way through Iriala¡¯s books. He made sure to visit Pollock as often as he could, refining ideas for potential experiments. After work, he went to visit the library to study and check in on Hallan. The librarian had managed to find quite a bit of information on planar theory ¨C they just hadn¡¯t managed to figure out how to apply it yet. None of the texts talked about ambient mana, much less anything like a mana bridge or tether that might transmit a familiar bond between planes. Still, Bernt was sure they were on the right track. There had to be something there.


    Despite the lack of useful results, Bernt felt like things were coming together, somehow. At least, until he left the guild to go home each night. Whenever he stepped into the street, Bernt found himself looking over his shoulder and jumping at shadows. He kept a light burning over his shoulder at all times when he wasn¡¯t behind the guild¡¯s wards. Passersby were starting to give him odd looks. Bernt often felt like he was being watched, especially every time he walked through the ruined Crafters¡¯ District.


    He knew he was being paranoid. Mostly. Maybe. Someone probably was watching him. He had no reason to believe that shade wasn¡¯t still around, even if it couldn¡¯t actually kill him. It could certainly cause this kind of psychological reaction ¨C that was what the shades had been doing during the siege, after all. Unfortunately, being aware of the problem didn¡¯t lessen the symptoms. The question was why. And was the demon following him personally, or was it just terrorizing the Crafters¡¯ Quarter?


    Bernt was still considering the problem when he opened his front door to find two letters that had been pushed under his door. He closed it, hung a few torch spells up near the ceiling to light the house brightly and bent down to pick up the letters. One was just a folded piece of paper, while the other was written on heavy cardstock in a fancy envelope. It looked very official, with a mana-infused seal and everything. The mana signature wouldn''t mean anything to Bernt, but it could be compared to a registry at the guild to verify its source. Probably Iriala herself, now that he considered it. She was the court mage, after all.


    Taking a deep breath, Bernt opened the expensive envelope, first.


    Underkeeper Bernard,


    You are hereby summoned to appear before the Count, Narald of Halfbridge on Eyelsday next, one hour before noon¡­


    The letter didn¡¯t actually mention why he was being summoned, but he could guess. Iriala wouldn¡¯t have gone to such lengths preparing him if she wasn¡¯t sure that the count would follow through. This was going to be his formal appointment as Torvald¡¯s legitimator.


    The letter went on about appropriate attire and proper forms of address, which Bernt, ironically, had just learned all about from Iriala¡¯s books. By the looks of it, there was going to be quite a ceremony. He was going to need a more formal mage¡¯s robe to be presented to the court.


    Bernt had been meaning to visit a tailor for some time, but he hadn¡¯t managed to get around to it so far. Now, he was running out of time. Eyelsday was in just three days, so there wasn''t nearly enough time for a custom job. He''d have to shop around to find what he needed on hand somewhere. He wanted something he could take to the Sacral Peaks, so he needed to see about getting it properly enchanted as well ¨C but that could wait until after the ceremony. For now, he just needed something that would make a better impression than basic Underkeepers'' gear.


    Still, he would have to talk to Grixit, soon. It was going to be a tricky project. The robe needed to provide proper protection, but the enchantments had to be laid on the garment in a way that didn¡¯t risk setting him on fire the first time he cast his manaburn spell. The shaman would figure something out, he was sure.


    The second message was from Farrin, at the orphanage. She wanted to know if and when he was planning to start teaching again. He¡¯d only visited once since the battle, and it had just been to check on Gnugg and Trip. The kobold had been out, but Trip said he was doing fine. She¡¯d be at the Mages¡¯ Academy now ¨C her first winter term would have just started.


    Bernt sighed and tossed the note down on his table. He was just too busy. The orphanage would have to find a new tutor. Beside his official studies for Iriala and his personal projects, the tide of refugees had only surged since Uriah had arrived. Nearly a thousand people streamed into the Undercity every day. The place would be full in a few more days, even if things slowed down. Most nights, he stopped for an hour or two to help guide the flow and process a few of them, trying to ease the pressure on his colleagues.


    That, and he felt guilty.


    Sure, Fiora had traded him for more support from City Maintenance, which gave her more of her own people to work on the refugees. It was a net gain for the Underkeepers. But still ¨C he spent his days hiding away in a library and reading for his own personal benefit while collecting his normal salary. Meanwhile, his friends had to work their asses off trying to wrangle desperate and traumatized people into temporary accommodations here every day. No matter how the math worked out, it felt like he was doing something wrong.


    ***


    When he arrived at his new office the next morning, Bernt found a few additional books waiting on his desk, probably courtesy of Iriala. They documented the history of the second and third Great Clysmic Wars. Both texts were painfully dry, painstakingly detailing the Invigilation¡¯s campaigns to permanently break the back of the Circle of Nine after the fall of the Madurian Empire, which ultimately left the hated warlock cult confined to the Isle of Harrowick. Their organization languished there in a diminished state until their destruction in a summoning gone so wrong that the island was still uninhabited over a hundred years later.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    After another lunch with Iriala, where she grilled him about the potential political significance of various obscure details buried in those texts, Bernt made his way down to the library. By now, he and Hallan had read everything there was about planar theory, but that didn¡¯t mean they understood it. They needed fresh eyes to look over the problem and all the information ¨C someone who thought outside the box.


    His first impulse had been to talk to Pollock. The old wizard was a genius, and even if he wasn¡¯t an expert on planar theory, he would surely understand the literature better than Bernt. On the other hand, though, he¡¯d already told too many people about his persistent familiar bond.


    Pollock fundamentally considered Jori a resource, not a person, and Bernt doubted he was going to convince him otherwise. That, and he worked for the guild, and for Iriala. Iriala, for her part, would absolutely try to use any connection she could make to further her own aims, and very possibly to Jori¡¯s detriment. She was already trying to make him into a tool for the guild, and that was fine to a point, but there were limits. If at all possible, he wanted to keep this quiet.


    Fortunately, Bernt could think of another mage who had a flair for creative applications of magic. Sure, he wasn''t much of a researcher, but he had a stellar education and a knack for using spells in unconventional ways.


    When Bernt arrived, Hallan took him straight back to the reading room they usually used. Therion was already there, scanning through Hallan¡¯s meticulously organized notes.


    ¡°Hey Bernt,¡± the other mage greeted him, not looking up. ¡°Did you bring your notes? Hallan says he didn¡¯t cover everything.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Of course,¡± Bernt said, digging through his bag to find the rumpled stack of papers that he¡¯d jammed into his book on familiar bonds. He held them out to Therion, who accepted them with a disgusted shake of his head.


    ¡°How are you a wizard? My little sister is more organized than you! How do you even figure anything out?¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Usually I just keep collecting information until something clicks. It¡¯s not working this time, though. There¡¯s nothing about ambient mana anywhere.¡± He clenched his teeth and made a frustrated noise. ¡°How can I amplify a familiar bond that goes outside the material plane if I can¡¯t even figure out how it¡¯s being transmitted?¡±


    Therion shrugged without answering and started to flip through Bernt¡¯s notes, organizing them as he went. As he read, Bernt busied himself with Hallan¡¯s notes, going over them again. Hallan, meanwhile, returned to work.


    Only a few minutes later, Bernt tossed the stack down on the table in disgust. Therion looked up at the noise and raised an eyebrow in question.


    ¡°It just doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± Bernt complained. ¡°Did none of these people know how mana connects the various planes, or did they just think it didn¡¯t matter?¡±


    Therion shrugged and dug out one of Hallan¡¯s note papers, glancing over it again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe it doesn¡¯t. What if Janaris¡¯ theory here is right and the planes actually sort of occupy the same material space, so we¡¯re actually all using the same ambient mana, projected interdimensionally?¡±


    Bernt snorted. ¡°Then the ambient mana would constantly be moving around or thinning in response to whatever was going on on other planes. It¡¯s way too predictable for that to be true.¡±


    ¡°Well, okay. Next question,¡± Therion replied, tossing the paper down. ¡°Does it actually matter?¡±


    Bernt frowned at his friend in confusion. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean, we know the familiar bond is working across planes. Do we really need to know how it works? Maybe the entire interdimensional medium is mana. Or maybe there¡¯s no such thing as real distance in the same way as it is here. We don¡¯t really need to find your hypothesized mana bridge or whatever. If the problem were about supposed ¡®distance¡¯ between planes, then amplifying the signal the way you already did should have helped. So, what if we could clear the way a bit, instead? It would be the next most obvious thing to try, right?¡±


    Noticing Bernt¡¯s confused expression, Therion flipped over one of the note sheets and produced a pen. As Bernt watched, the mage scribbled two stick figures in separate circles, connected by a line.


    ¡°Alright, think about it like this. You¡¯ve got two people, you and Jori, on two separate planes. We know that the planes aren¡¯t touching, since there aren¡¯t any known confluences. At least nothing like with the elemental planes."


    Bernt nodded noncommittally. ¡°Right, I know. But that doesn¡¯t really help us. ¡®Clearing the way¡¯, as you said, would mean removing the barrier between here and the third hell. But that would be a portal. We can¡¯t do that, since, as you said, we¡¯re not actually touching on the hells. If that was an option, I wouldn¡¯t be doing this in the first place.¡±


    ¡°Right. We can¡¯t make a portal to the hells,¡± Therion said, grinning. ¡°But what if, instead, we just make a portal to nowhere? ¡±


    Bernt opened his mouth to scoff at his friend, but then closed it again as he thought about it.


    If Therion was right, there wasn¡¯t one barrier between him and Jori, there were two ¨C the one separating the material realm from the interplanar medium, and another separating this non-place from the third hell. If they were the problem, then even getting past one of them should work. Well, it might not work perfectly, but it should do something, right?


    Excitedly, Bernt opened his bag of holding and dug around in it until his hands closed around a tall, narrow book. He pulled it out and showed it to Therion, who peered at the title in confusion.


    ¡°A Summoner¡¯s Guide to Elementals?¡±


    ¡°It explains how to create and stabilize portals at confluence points.¡± Bernt said, flipping to the section about portal formation. ¡°Think about it. Elemental summoning is far more complicated than what you¡¯re suggesting. I¡¯m not totally familiar with all of these runes here, but if we can decipher them properly, it should be easy to simplify this down to something that''ll just cut a way out of our plane without opening up to make a path to somewhere else. That''s what you meant, right?¡±


    Therion rose, eyes alight with Pollock-like excitement. ¡°I¡¯ll go get Hallan.¡±

 3.16 Portal to Nowhere

    In the end, it wasn¡¯t quite as simple as Bernt had predicted. Hallan had a strong grasp of runes and warding and it took the librarian only a moment to point out several obvious problems that needed solving before they could actually try to create a portal to nowhere.


    For one, there was no guarantee that such a portal would be stable, or that its collapse wouldn¡¯t cause an explosion, or that some unnameable horror from beyond space and time wouldn¡¯t come climbing out of it at the first opportunity.


    Fortunately for the three mages, all of these risks were familiar problems for summoners ¨C ones with established solutions. While the other two watched, Hallan simplified the base form of a traditional summoning portal down into a much more basic rune circle. That done, he began to reconfigure it, inscribing various protective features one after another. It was tricky work, since runes didn¡¯t just interact based on their sequence. Their orientation modulated their effect, and the way different runes were positioned from each other across the circle could further alter their function, much as they did when used as part of a spellform.


    Bernt watched his friend work, impressed. All mages learned runes, of course, but it was a very deep field of study with broad applications. He¡¯d focused on those most relevant to his own area of expertise ¨C pyromancy ¨C and he hadn¡¯t bothered with warding at all. Adventurers rarely had time to carve or paint wards in a fight, after all. Hallan, on the other hand, had at least passing competence with all kinds of runes that had absolutely nothing to do with his chosen specialization. Or maybe they did. What did he know what a professional librarian needed to know?


    It made Bernt want to carve out some time to study up on the subject. A more general mastery of runes might be exactly what he needed to help him work out how to develop his sorcerous investiture. For that matter, it could be applied to more advanced spell development.


    But that was just a fantasy for now. He didn¡¯t have time to start on another personal project, and time was running out. He could worry about runes when all this was over.


    Another minute later, Hallan looked up from his work and grinned.


    "I think that''s it. We should test it!"


    ¡°I know a good place to experiment with dangerous spells,¡± Bernt said, grabbing his notes. ¡°Do you guys have time to try it out?¡±


    ***


    Bernt cast his now well-practiced stone shaping spell, creating a smooth, hard surface along the rocky riverbank outside the city where he usually practiced his larger pyromancy spells. Hallan, clutching his robe around himself in the chilly winter weather, immediately crouched down and began to trace out runes in chalk.


    Therion was properly dressed for the weather, with heavy boots, a scarf and a warm, hooded robe. Hallan, on the other hand, was shivering in his thin brown librarian¡¯s robes, which obviously weren¡¯t meant for outdoor work. Taking pity on his friend, Bernt carefully cast a mundane torch spell just upwind, modulating the size as he shaped the spellform to put out a bit more heat. It wasn¡¯t very efficient, but it should help a little. Hallan looked up for a moment when he felt the warm breeze and examined the spell curiously for a second before returning to work.


    Therion gave Bernt a strange look and gestured at the perfectly level stone surface.


    ¡°Hey, since when did you get good at geomancy?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t afford furniture when I moved to the Undercity,¡± Bernt admitted with a shrug. ¡°I spent a lot of time practicing.¡± He¡¯d kept trying to improve his work, even after the battle. It looked pretty good now, even if his couch was still uncomfortable. In the end, he hadn¡¯t bought anything in the way of furniture except a proper straw mattress for his stone bed. Just because he had a bit of gold to his name again didn¡¯t mean he could afford to spend it frivolously. Even now, he wasn¡¯t sure he could afford the robes he wanted before he left. They would be pricey even without the enchantments. By the time Grixit was done with them, he might be in debt.


    ¡°I guess that makes sense.¡± Therion said, a little dubiously. ¡°That has to slow down your development, though, right?¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°Eh. I have time ¨C I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m going to finish my augmentation yet, anyway.¡± No matter what he did, he would have to adjust his spellcasting at least once more ¨C and maybe many more times if Pollock was right about his sorcerous investiture. If he could keep growing it without ever reaching a bottleneck, he might still have a very long way to go. It didn¡¯t really make sense to spend all his time perfecting casting habits that would be obsolete each time he got a new investiture. That thought raised another question, though.


    ¡°So, why haven¡¯t you finished your augmentation yet?¡± Bernt asked carefully. Traditionally, mages waited a few years after graduating from the academy to begin the investment process. Once they started, though, they would normally finish the entire augmentation within weeks or months ¨C as long as they had the materials. But Bernt doubted that Therion would have any trouble paying¡­ so, had there been an accident with his last investiture?


    Therion smirked. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, are you worried about me?¡±


    ¡°No¡­?¡± Bernt said, unsure. ¡°I mean, I could tell you probably had some kind of scrying investiture back when we were in the dungeon. I can''t get a far sight spell to take at all, never mind holding it for a couple of minutes like you did. But I haven¡¯t seen or heard anything from you since. Shouldn¡¯t you be a magister by now?¡±


    ¡°Nah.¡± Therion said, shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯s a scrying and force build. Classic precision combat architecture, sort of. A rare variant. The third investiture requires an artificial material ¨C a kind of arcane iron that compresses objects placed onto it. They use it to make metalworking implements at Bronzeforge Hall in the Confederacy. The problem is that it¡¯s proprietary. They don¡¯t allow any outside their borders, so I have to travel there to do the investiture. My dad was going to take me.¡± The mage threw a glance over his shoulder, back toward the city. ¡°Now¡­ well, it¡¯s going to have to wait.¡±


    ¡°You should consult with some of the smiths in the Crafters¡¯ Quarter.¡± Hallan suggested, finishing a rune and standing up to stretch his legs. ¡°Even if they don¡¯t have exactly what you¡¯re talking about, I¡¯d be surprised if they didn¡¯t have a reasonable analogue. Crafters don¡¯t like to let little things like laws or borders keep them from getting their hands on the best tools.¡±


    Therion shook his head, raising both hands in denial. ¡°Thanks, but no. I don¡¯t mind some risk, but I¡¯m not going to cut corners when it comes to my mana network. Some things are just too important. All this really costs me is time. It¡¯s not a big deal.¡±


    Bernt looked down at his right arm and the luminous shape of his sorcerous investiture underneath the skin. It was a risk. But sometimes risks could pay off, too. Still, there was a good reason most mages didn¡¯t experiment with their investitures. He couldn¡¯t fault Therion for playing it safe.


    Stepping up to Hallan¡¯s portal, Bernt crouched down next to it to examine the runes. The circle was small, only about two feet wide. That was probably a safety feature. Smaller portals couldn¡¯t do as much damage as big ones, right?The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°So, how do I use it?¡± he asked. ¡°Do I step inside?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Hallan said quickly, holding out a hand to stop him as if he feared that Bernt was about to follow words with action. He cleared his throat. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s probably safe, but no. Nothing physical should be able to pass through in either direction, and it blocks most forms of energy, but why risk it? Just run a bit of your spirit into it and see what happens.¡±


    Cautiously, Bernt extended his left hand and pushed on his own spirit just as he normally did during an investment procedure. A glowing loop emerged from his palm and grew as he pushed it out further, moving his hand a bit to get it inside the circle. The thread of his spirit passed over the runes easily, but his hand was repelled with increasing force as he got closer to the area enclosed by the circle.


    Pushing back slightly to keep his hand from bouncing back, Bernt concentrated on his familiar bond.


    A small imp looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. It wasn¡¯t Jori ¨C this one was barely bigger than she had been when he¡¯d found her in the sewers over two years ago. It whimpered piteously as he flinched back in surprise, beating his wings to catch his balance. What was that?


    No, he hadn¡¯t flinched back. It was Jori. Hey, was she bullying a little imp?


    Indignation filled their familiar bond, even as Jori looked over her shoulder, wondering how Bernt had managed to reach them. Had Ed done something? Why would he bring Bernt here?! This place was terrible! And she wasn¡¯t bullying Ionathath here, she was saving her from an evil fiend. It wasn¡¯t her fault if the little imp didn¡¯t know what was good for her!


    Bernt¡¯s head spun. This wasn¡¯t right. The connection was much stronger than it should have been. He practically felt like he was Jori, and it didn''t seem to be going much better for her. This rune circle thing was going to take some getting used to.


    With effort, Bernt focused on his own surroundings ¨C the cold wind contrasting with the warmth of his torch spell, the rush of the river, and the odd sensation of the portal¡¯s built-in wards pushing back on his hand. It helped, drawing his mind and his sense of self back.


    ¡°Jori?¡± he said out loud. ¡°Just listen to my voice. Is that better?¡±


    ¡°Bernt!¡± Jori replied. ¡°What? Where are you? How are you doing that?¡±


    ***


    Ed conjured more water into his cup, took a sip and watched Jori drag another imp into their camp ¨C a cave of sorts that he¡¯d bored into the side of a low cliff. His tunneling spells were more than a little rusty, but after a few embarrassing failures, he¡¯d managed. Their six prisoners were penned up in a large stone cage he¡¯d made at the back of the space.


    Initially, all this geomancy felt like a waste of time and effort ¨C at least until Maladzhoth tried to fling some hellfire at him. He¡¯d suspended him upside down in the air and spun him around until he vomited bug bits for that. None of the others had tried anything since, calling him Great One and groveling when he got too close. Those that could talk chattered and bickered constantly while the smaller, more animalistic ones did their best to participate nonverbally, chittering, hissing and smacking at each other.


    They were downright collegial toward Jori, who had commended him for smacking sense into them. Despite their friendly attitude toward her, though, she insisted they needed to stay locked up tight until their blood fiend master was dead. Otherwise they would try to escape or attack. That was why Jori wanted to capture as many imps as possible before confronting Tallash ¨C they would be obligated to defend the fiend otherwise, and Jori wanted to minimize ¡°friendly¡± casualties. Ed knew that demons loved their rules and agreements, of course, but this all seemed a bit ridiculous.


    Jori was chatting happily at the tiny imp that she dragged along by the scruff of its neck. It chittered nervously as it caught sight of the others in the cell.


    ¡°Do you think they would let Oren sponsor her?¡± she asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know why the Thieves¡¯ Guild doesn¡¯t work with imps all the time. Ionathath is very sneaky!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Ed squinted at her in confusion. ¡°The thieves don¡¯t have a formal charter, they¡¯re not a real guild. Nobody¡¯s going to let them sponsor anything. Is that what you¡¯re hoping is going to happen? Because it¡¯s not going to work.¡±


    Jori blinked at him. ¡°Huh? Oh. No, I was asking Bernt! Hey, maybe Josie will help ¨C she¡¯s suing the government in Teres for me! And the Adventurers¡¯ Guild likes me, too. It doesn¡¯t matter, first we get rid of Tallash. I can work out the rest later. Bernt will figure it out!¡±


    Ed stared at her for a moment before lifting a hand to rub at his temple. Great. Jori was losing it. She hadn¡¯t seemed that stressed¡­ was something messing with her mind?


    Jori paced in a circle. She shrugged, nodded and then grunted questioningly as if having a conversation with herself.


    ¡°Well, I mean, they are trying to kill you.¡± Jori finally said. ¡°Maladzoth said there¡¯s a reward! Maybe the shade thought it could scare you to death, or something. Humans can die from that, right?¡±


    Ed frowned at the imp. Demons were still attacking people in Halfbridge? He would have thought the Solicitors would be more thorough, now that the battle was over. Still, Bernt was well-equipped to deal with this sort of threat, as long as he didn¡¯t get caught with his pants down.


    ¡°Tell him to experiment with that banefire spell some more,¡± he said, trying a simple scrying spell to look for mind magic. Could she really be talking to Bernt from here? How would that work? ¡°Ask him what¡¯s new in Halfbridge.¡±


    ¡°I already did. He says that Nuros destroyed Loamfurth!¡± Jori said bluntly. ¡°And he ate all of the souls. Uriah is back with lots of refugees ¨C he was there!¡±


    Ed choked on his water, sending some spurting out of his nose. He coughed and raised a sleeve to wipe at his face. He¡¯d gotten the spell off first, thankfully, but there was nothing to see.


    ¡°How?¡± he asked hoarsely. Also, why hadn¡¯t anyone updated him about this yet? Annoyed, he tried a different spell to look for environmental effects.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Jori replied, ¡°I guess he ran away in time?¡±


    ¡°No, not what I meant,¡± Ed replied, fixing her with a stern stare. The scrying spells weren''t showing him anything, but he needed to know if this was real. ¡°How are you talking with Bernt?¡±


    The little imp next to Jori tried to edge away from her, apparently intimidated by him, but Jori held it tight. She seemed completely relaxed. Happy, even.


    ¡°He has a circle of runes, and Therion is there and another mage ¨C but I don¡¯t know that one. It has a lot of symbols in it, not like the ones he normally makes. Anyway, it makes our soulbond work better! A lot better, actually. It¡¯s weird.¡±


    ¡°Your familiar bond? It¡¯s still working?¡± Ed didn¡¯t know what to make of that, but it sounded crazy. Familiar bonds relied on proximity, after all, and they weren''t even occupying the same spatial fabric. What the hell was that boy up to? ¡°What kind of rune circle?¡±


    With a hiss, the little imp tried to make a run for it again, but Jori caught it by its ear and stopped it cold. It growled and scratched at Jori, but she dodged and thumped it on the head.


    ¡°Right,¡± Ed grunted and pinned the other imps against the far wall with a force barrier before shaping an opening into the stone bars. ¡°Pack that one away with the others, then tell me everything.¡±


    Jori complied, dropping the resisting imp into the cell and hissing at it when it turned, looking for a way past her. Ed closed the opening again and Jori turned, continuing as if nothing had happened.


    ¡°He says it¡¯s a portal, like for summoning things, but the portal doesn¡¯t go anywhere? What?¡± As she spoke, Jori¡¯s tone became more and more skeptical. ¡°Bernt, I can¡¯t tell him that. That sounds stupid!¡±


    Ed shook his head. ¡°No, I can guess.¡± Summoning was, by definition, the practice of breaching planar barriers. It was obvious that he didn''t have access to a proper demon summoning ritual, so he''d punched a hole out of the mortal plane and then somehow patched a connection through to them. There was no telling how he''d pulled off that last part, but it wasn''t important right now. They were getting side-tracked.


    Ed craved information. ¡°He can tell us about it later. Ask him about the situation back home. What happened to Loamfurth, exactly? What are they doing about it? Do they know where Nuros will strike next?¡±

 3.17 Legitimator

    Bernt stripped off his clothes in the chilly changing area, noting with some embarrassment that he smelled a bit under one arm. He¡¯d meant to get up earlier today and bathe before coming, but he¡¯d been up late, finally recreating the portal to nowhere in the back room of his house and talking to Jori. The opportunity to catch up had just been too tempting to pass up and they¡¯d spent hours well into the night doing just that.


    It had been good to learn more about Jori¡¯s project and how Ed was doing, even if he wasn¡¯t totally sure what he thought of it all. The imp didn¡¯t seem to have a clear plan for what to do with her cousins once she freed them. That worried him. What if she didn¡¯t want to leave them? Worse, what if she insisted on summoning all of them to the mortal plane? He remembered the sight of them bearing down on the defenders from above during the battle ¨C how one had torn out Bartholomew¡¯s throat. Could Jori control them all? For that matter, she was working to free them. So, would she even want to? Bernt didn¡¯t have answers, but he had concerns.


    The real surprise, though, had been learning that the demons had it out for him, personally. Not humans, not Halfbridge, but Bernt the Underkeeper. Apparently Nuros had put out a bounty for his head in some kind of misguided attempt to win Jori¡¯s loyalty, or at least her service or something. They thought killing him would break her pact with him, or her ¡°obligation¡±, whatever the difference was supposed to be. Of course, they didn¡¯t actually have a pact, or any kind of binding service agreement. Bernt was not a warlock. If he were, he would have already summoned Jori back.


    Of course, Jori had already reported all this to the Solicitors, who had not seen fit to share it with him in turn. Ed had, predictably, demanded that he get Iriala involved. Bernt wanted to avoid that if at all possible, though. For one, it would mean that everyone, including the Solicitors, would learn about his familiar bond ¨C likely sooner than later. That felt like too much to give up just to file a complaint about inadequate information sharing. Worse, if Iriala or Radast decided this was important enough, either or both might decide to interfere with his other plans so they could keep him here.


    Bernt had spent weeks cramming history, protocol and rhetorical skills, but one point had sunk in more than all the others, reinforced by Iriala at every opportunity. Politics happened everywhere, all the time ¨C even and especially between allies. Right now, he was just a tool both Iriala and Radast were playing with, even if he couldn¡¯t see exactly what they were doing. In their games, his goals and interests weren¡¯t a factor. He could accept that and allow himself to be moved as a piece on a board, or he could join the game himself. Carefully.


    The familiar bond was a hidden advantage ¨C maybe their best. It had to serve his interests, and Jori¡¯s first. He couldn¡¯t just give it up for free, and especially not now. Bernt would be appointed as a legitimator soon, and leaving not long after that. He would conduct his research at the Phoenix Reaches, scour every library on the way for useful knowledge and watch Torvald¡¯s back while he did it. Going forward, he would build a new class of sorcerer mages, both in and outside the guild, and he was going to do it personally. Pollock had the right of it ¨C this was where he could make the biggest impact, and where he could build the power and influence he needed to get and keep the Solicitors off Jori¡¯s back permanently.


    He just needed to work out how.


    Sighing to himself, Bernt fastened his belt over the warm wool robe, stepped out, and looked into the mirror. He shrugged his shoulders and held his arms out to check the length of the sleeves. It was the first time he¡¯d ever had clothes custom-fitted, and they sat much more comfortably than his Underkeepers¡¯ uniform. The robes were still gray ¨C his status as an Underkeeper was what qualified him to be a legitimator, after all ¨C but they had a lighter shade than his uniform with darker accents around the hem. Additionally, he now had two narrow red stripes embroidered on his sleeves to represent his two investitures. Those wouldn¡¯t do anything meaningful for his status at court, but it was traditional. It was going to be a formal event, after all.


    Hopefully, he could swap them for the braided stripes of a magister when he got back.


    ¡°Perfect!¡± the elderly tailor said, stepping up to examine him. ¡°Now, you¡¯re going to want to be careful with these seams here, alright? They¡¯re temporary, so your enchanter can open them up to get at the leather lining on the torso. If you pick at them out in the street, they¡¯ll come apart.¡±


    Bernt smiled at the man and gave him a little bow. ¡°Thank you for getting this done so quickly. I really appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s very nice, and you¡¯re welcome,¡± the tailor said, peering at him over his glasses, ¡°do feel free to express your appreciation monetarily as well, though. I trust that you¡¯re satisfied?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Bernt said, retrieving his bag to count the coins out for him while doing his best not to let the pain show on his face. Sixteen gold marks and thirty-eight silver. He wasn¡¯t sure he would ever get used to spending that kind of money, but this was what it was for.


    Besides, it was a fair price. The tailor had really outdone himself, adding a warm hood, making adjustments and layering leather under the wool lining to provide additional protection. Once Grixit got his hands on them, these robes might provide even better protection than his work clothes ¨C despite looking better, being far more comfortable and weighing less than half as much.


    The goblin shaman had insisted that the tailor use sheep leather, which had added to the cost, but Bernt wasn¡¯t going to argue with the man. Grixit¡¯s work had yet to let him down, and he was downright affordable compared to traditional enchanters.


    Regardless, enchantments were a concern for later. Offering the tailor a smile and a nod, he gathered his things and left. He was due at the castle in less than two hours, and he still needed to take a bath.


    ***


    The gates were open when Bernt arrived at the castle, though one of the guards stopped him to look at his letter of invitation before he could enter. He¡¯d expected the place to be a hub of activity, but it seemed no busier than the last time he¡¯d been here ¨C when Ed had taken them there to report the kobold incursion. Had that really only been a few months ago?Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    As he crossed the courtyard, he was met by a vaguely familiar-looking young man with ink stains on his fingers.


    ¡°Underkeeper Bernard, right? ¡± the man said, looking him over critically. My name is Art, I¡¯m the count¡¯s secretary.¡± Bernt nodded in confirmation and he smiled politely.


    ¡°Good. Please, follow me. I¡¯ll be briefing you on what to expect.¡±


    Without saying anything, Bernt followed the skinny little man inside and down a corridor to the left. A few moments later, they entered a modestly sized room where three other people, two men and a woman, were already waiting for them. Not bothering with introductions, Art cleared his throat to get everyone¡¯s attention and addressed the room.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re all very curious why you¡¯ve been summoned to appear before the court today. It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been selected to represent the Count and the Kingdom of Besermark as legitimators to the Invigilation. If you¡¯re not familiar, that means ¨C¡±


    Bernt stopped paying attention to Art¡¯s explanation of what a legitimator was and examined the other people in the room. They were all humans, which Bernt thought was a little odd. If he remembered his academy lessons correctly, humans made up about half of the Beseri populations ¨C he would have at least expected a gnome or a dwarf. It seemed that Torvald had been right. They really wouldn¡¯t have appointed Nirlig, even if he¡¯d recommended him.


    Taking a closer look, Bernt realized that he recognized one of the men ¨C Leirin, the archdruid who he¡¯d met in the dungeon and who had created the vines that lit up the Undercity. He barely recognized him with his hair oiled and wearing an embroidered jacket, rather than the long off-white tunics that druids normally wore. Wasn¡¯t he a high-ranking adventurer? How was he a government employee?


    Next to him sat a nervous-looking younger man, though he was probably still a few years older than Bernt. He was dressed expensively and had the look of someone who didn¡¯t spend much time outdoors ¨C pale and skinny, not unlike Hallan. He had a pen and paper out, and his eyes were focused on Art, hanging onto every word as though the gods themselves were speaking to him. Every few seconds, he would look down to scribble something on the paper before focusing his attention back on the secretary.


    Last was the only woman in the room. She wore a military uniform, marking her as one of Arice¡¯s people ¨C an officer, judging by the stripes on her shoulder, though she couldn¡¯t have been much older than the fidgety man next to her. The contrast couldn¡¯t have been clearer. She sat as straight as a lantern pole, with no expression on her face at all. There were some stripes on her shoulder, which Bernt knew marked her as some kind of officer, but nothing on her sleeves, so she wasn¡¯t a member of any specialized corps like mages, rangers or berserkers would be.


    ¡°You will receive papers allowing you to draw your normal salaries, as well as additional funds for expenses and a small stipend from Beseri banks for the duration of your service.¡± Art said, drawing Bernt¡¯s attention. ¡°Once you accept, you will be committed for a term of five years, or until the crown dismisses you, or until your charge departs the kingdom without an express intent to return. If any of you intend to turn down this appointment, you should inform me now. We have other options in reserve. Denying the count to his face would be¡­ unfortunate.¡±


    Bernt looked around. Nobody said anything.


    Art nodded and cleared his throat again. ¡°Good. In that case, please follow me to be presented to the court. They should be ready for us in a matter of minutes.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Wizard Bernard, of the Underkeepers.¡±


    When the doors opened in front of him, Bernt¡¯s legs felt oddly shaky, but he forced himself to move when he heard Art announce him. He¡¯d called him wizard, just as Iriala had recently started doing. It sounded odd to him, somehow. Were they doing it to make him sound less like a simple Underkeeper, or to emphasize his association with the Mages¡¯ Guild?


    The room was full of people, at least fifty of them. All of them were watching him, and for a moment, it made Bernt forget what he was supposed to do. Mechanically, he stepped forward, palms sweating as he approached the Count. The old man sat front and center in a tall chair, looking at him while leaning to the side as someone else whispered something to him.


    Letting out a slow breath, Bernt tried to ignore the audience and focused on what he was supposed to do. He bowed at the waist and waited for the count to begin speaking before he stood up straight again. He¡¯d been listening through the door as the two legitimators before him were announced, and the ceremony felt at least somewhat familiar now. As the count repeated the same words once more, he managed to relax a bit.


    ¡°Underkeeper Bernard. You are hereby appointed by my authority as the lord of Halfbridge to represent the interests of the crown as a legitimator to the Invigilation ¨C to accompany, validate and document the actions of Torvald, a Paladin of Ruzinia and representative of the Invigilation. Do you accept this charge?¡±


    ¡°I accept.¡± Bernt said formally, and followed up with another bow as protocol dictated.


    Standing up straight again, he realized that he¡¯d forgotten to find Torvald in the crowd as he entered the room. He was supposed to go stand next to him, symbolically taking on his task immediately. Trying not to be too obvious, he scanned the crowd to his left and right. He found Iriala first, who met his eyes before looking meaningfully to Bernt¡¯s left.


    Turning, Bernt found the paladin just behind him and to his left, and stepped over to take his place. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure if the crowd had noticed his moment of hesitation, or if they were just polite enough to ignore it. Either way, his part in this was over, for now, and he was thankful for it. Torvald gave him a friendly nod and turned back to look at the count. He seemed totally relaxed, even though he guessed the paladin must have just gone through a similar introduction.


    If this was what the lives of politicians and nobles was like, he would take cleaning sewers over it any day of the week. Across from him stood Archdruid Leirin, who was apparently also the Count¡¯s agricultural advisor, and Captain Emata, who turned out to be a junior tactician. By the looks of the priests standing next to them, they¡¯d been assigned to representatives of the temples of Eyeli and Noruk, respectively.


    ¡°Baron Regin of Hilltower.¡± Art announced, opening the doors once more to admit the last of their number.


    The fidgety young man entered, going through the same motions that Bernt had just completed. He would never have guessed that he was a noble. For that matter, he wondered what kind of political maneuvering had put him in this position. He certainly didn¡¯t seem like someone who wanted to follow a priest around on a potentially dangerous winter journey that might well carry them all to war at some point. Listening with half an ear, Bernt heard the count assign him Angjou, the high priestess of Balarian.


    ¡°In light of the fall of Loamfurth, as well as the Duergar¡¯s recent aggression against us here, King Renias¡¯ has pledged his cooperation with the Invigilation as it seeks to renew the exercise of its ancient mandate. Representatives of the four temples have been Chosen here and from all corners of the continent to meet at the Sacral Peaks.¡±


    Count Narald paused for effect, making eye contact with the crowd. ¡°There, six weeks from today, they will determine a united course, with the aim to bind all mankind to our common purpose ¨C to protect ourselves, our neighbors, and all of humanity against the depredations of demons and those who would wield them against us.¡±


    Six weeks. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure exactly how long it would take them to reach the Sacral Peaks, but he was sure they would have to leave soon. It was winter, and they would need to be prepared and leave time for unfavorable conditions. Still, it felt good to finally have a clear course. It was done. Bernt was officially a legitimator.

 3.18 Expedition

    Bernt tied a bit of string around the neat stack of folders on his table and dropped the packet into his bag on top of his bedroll and a carefully wrapped pack of minor healing potions. They contained neatly organized notes from Hallan explaining his portal to nowhere, the experiments he meant to attempt at the Phoenix Reaches, and a ream of haphazard notes on some of the finer points of diplomatic protocol that he might need when interacting with foreign priests and whoever might be sent to accompany them as legitimators from their home countries.


    That done, Bernt sat down on his stone couch and nervously tapped his foot. Grixit should be here by now, shouldn¡¯t he? He needed that robe and the goblin was cutting it awfully close. Raising a hand, Bernt traced out the spellform for a clock cantrip ¨C the only scrying spell he''d ever practiced enough to cast reliably. A line of glowing blue light manifested in front of him, pointing toward the sun. It was nearly horizontal, which meant it was dawn. He still had a little time.


    It had been nearly a week since the ceremony ¨C plenty of time to prepare. He''d even managed to check in with the Solicitors about that damned shade, though they predictably didn''t have any news for him on that front. Despite that, the time had flown by far too quickly. Between packing, doing Iriala¡¯s reading, preparing his experiments, and practicing Hallan''s new portal to get in contact with Jori, there hadn¡¯t been much time to keep everyone in the loop. When he¡¯d gone to the Underkeepers¡¯ headquarters to talk to Fiora about his upcoming journey, nearly everyone had been out working. Kustov had been there and promised to pass along a message, which was someting. The dwarf had also made him a stone teapot and a few cups to take with him, which Bernt appreciated. His own stone shaping wasn¡¯t up to such delicate work.


    He rose to pace around the room, and had barely managed a single circuit when someone knocked. He hurried to open it, yanking the door open with a bit more force than was necessary.


    ¡°Morning!¡± Grixit said cheerfully and stepped inside, pulling a package out from under his arm. It was his new robe, neatly folded. The goblin held up a hand to shade his eyes against the glare of Bernt¡¯s bright lighting. ¡°What¡¯s going on in here, are you afraid of the dark?¡±


    ¡°How did it go?¡± Bernt asked, ignoring the question. ¡°Is it going to be safe for me to cast manaburn?¡±


    He didn''t want to admit it to Grixit, but he was still concerned about having that shade come at him again. Whatever the warlocks said about the actual danger, he could still feel something breathing down his neck whenever he walked around outside. It was creepy. He wasn¡¯t going to be able to relax until he was out of this city and away from whatever enemy demons might still be lurking in the shadows.


    ¡°It should be safe,¡± Grixit said, shaking out the robe as if to show Bernt his work. ¡°I treated it with cinder tree sap. It can¡¯t burn an enchantment if it can¡¯t reach the material, right?¡±


    It looked exactly the same as before ¨C not that Bernt had expected any visual changes.


    ¡°So, you got the protective enchantment on it and it resists all kinds of fire? Do I have to activate it to use it, like the amulet? What¡¯s it going to cost?¡±


    Grixit smiled his best professional smile and held out his hand. ¡°Fifteen gold marks and your keys as long as you¡¯re gone, like we agreed.¡±


    Bernt rolled his eyes and handed the goblin a small stack of coins and the keys to his house. He wasn¡¯t sure what the goblin wanted to borrow his home for ¨C maybe he¡¯d try opening a shop in here. He''d be gone for a few months, at least.


    ¡°Right, not what I meant,¡± he clarified, ¡°what about the other price?¡±


    Grixit¡¯s enchantments were much cheaper than the work of conventional enchanters ¨C but they came with an additional cost. The spirits he used to empower items always demanded something for themselves. Bernt¡¯s amulet had to be recharged with drops of his own blood, while his mountain lion belt made use of his senses to recapture a sense of life for itself. He hadn¡¯t noticed any significant side-effects from it so far, though Grixit had warned him that overusing the belt could influence him in unpredictable ways.


    ¡°You have to feed it herbs,¡± Grixit said, ¡°about a pound per week. It¡¯ll work continuously. Not much help against getting stabbed in the back if you have to activate it all the time.¡±


    Bernt narrowed his eyes at the goblin, trying to decide if he was joking.


    ¡°Herbs?¡±


    ¡°Parsley, yarrow, sage, you know? It shouldn¡¯t matter, though it might take a bit of hunting in the winter. The protection will weaken if you don¡¯t feed it enough.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but why herbs?¡±


    Grixit grinned. ¡°Well. One of our tributary tribes, the nomadic Ibn-Dirin, follow a ram-spirit around the Urgan Highlands. According to the lore, he¡¯s got an iron hide. We work with it for some of our own armor back in Vael Dirin, too. He likes herbs, so that''s what he asks for. It''s not actually as tough as iron, but it should work a lot better than any conventional leather. Also, it¡¯s sort of alive now, so it¡¯ll heal from most kinds of damage, though you might end up with scars on the robe.¡±


    Giving the goblin a skeptical look, Bernt accepted the robe and opened it up, checking the seams. As far as he could tell, they were completely gone. Somehow, the entire thing had grown together into a single piece, with the leather in the middle.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°How do I, uh¡­ feed it?¡± Bernt asked, fervently hoping it didn¡¯t have a mouth somewhere.


    Grixit shrugged. ¡°Just wrap it around your greens and leave it overnight. Or if you¡¯re wearing it, just stuff them up your sleeve or something. Ibn is a spirit, he¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    That didn¡¯t sound too bad, he supposed. And being able to repair itself was going to be incredibly useful while traveling ¨C especially if they had to fight.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said. ¡°Mind waiting for a minute while I change? I want to drop off my Underkeepers¡¯ uniform on the way up.¡±


    ***


    Bernt arrived at the docks a half-hour later, his staff thumping on the wooden walkway as he made his way out to the boat. Fiora had insisted he keep it ¨C along with his robe ¨C as spare equipment. He was still technically employed as an Underkeeper, after all. It wasn''t terribly useful, seeing as he could only use the staff with his left hand. His sorcerous investiture wouldn¡¯t let him channel mana outside his body without simultaneously activating it as a spell, but he hadn¡¯t had the heart to argue.


    There was a small crowd of important-looking people standing on the dock in front of the riverboat, including several priests, Iriala and Branchmaster Ambrose from the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. Bernt didn¡¯t recognize the others, but they were all dressed expensively. Torvald was standing off to the side with Guard Commander Righmond and a middle-aged woman, probably his mother. They were both clucking over him, and Bernt could see even from a distance that the paladin was embarrassed. Still, he gave both parents a hug, and Bernt could hear him making reassuring noises at them as he turned to board.


    ¡°You have everything?¡± Iriala asked, stepping forward to intercept him as he approached. He nodded, and she reached into her pocket, pulling out a carved crystal coin ¨C some sort of token. ¡°Remember to keep me updated. Just present this at any Mages¡¯ Guild you come across and they¡¯ll be able to relay a message directly to me. Once you get to the Peaks, you¡¯ll need to hike down to Norhold periodically. I need to know if anything unexpected happens, and I¡¯ll update you with any news about your demon.¡±


    Bernt nodded, accepting the token with a smile and a nod. He wasn¡¯t reliant on Iriala ¨C or Radast, for that matter ¨C for updates about Jori and Ed, but keeping in contact with the guild here could only benefit everyone. Maybe he could send updates to his friends, while he was at it. Normally, sending messages via the scryers was expensive ¨C the number that any one scryer could receive in a day was limited, after all. They had to scry specific message rooms in whatever places they were responsible for, find the subsection meant for their guild and then manually copy the messages posted for that day before sending them out to their intended recipients by messenger. It was an elegant solution for long distance communication, but it had limits.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll let you know when we get to Fergefield.¡±


    ¡°Good luck,¡± Iriala said, clapping him on the back before turning back to her conversation with Ambrose.


    Bernt followed Torvald onto the boat, noting as he stepped onto the deck how large it was. He¡¯d expected something more like an oversized rowboat, designed to carry people, but this was a merchant vessel with a broad deck over a voluminous hold. Porters stowed and tied down goods while travelers bustled around, trying not to get in the way while they found somewhere to sit. Pulling his hood up against the chill, Bernt hoped that they¡¯d leave enough room for them to get out of the wind belowdecks. Otherwise, this leg of the trip was going to be very uncomfortable.


    Torvald sat down against a gunnel, and Bernt put his bag down next to him before settling down himself. He let the staff fall into the crook of his elbow so he could bury his hands in his sleeves as he pulled his hood down over his face. It was too damned cold out here.


    Bernt didn¡¯t think anything of it when he heard steps approaching them. At least until something kicked his foot. He flinched back and looked up to find Nirlig giving them a sharp-toothed grin. ¡°Hey you two, I was starting to wonder if you were going to make it!¡±


    ¡°Nirlig? What are you doing here?¡± Bernt asked. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be at work?¡±


    The goblin scoffed. ¡°That would imply employment. I quit!¡±


    Only then did Bernt realize that Nirlig wasn¡¯t wearing his gray gambeson, like usual. Instead, he wore a similar-looking design in an undyed dirty tan color. His helmet was a bit rusty, but his spear and boots looked brand new.


    ¡°Torvald talked me into signing up with the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. Turns out, there weren¡¯t actually a lot of volunteers looking to join a low-ranked escort quest across the country in the middle of winter. Not ones that can actually fight, anyway. Both of us got in!¡±


    ¡°Both of you?¡± Torvald asked, looking around. ¡°Where¡¯s the other guy?¡±


    ¡°Uriah!¡± Nirlig called over his shoulder. ¡°Come on!¡±


    The other mage uncurled from where he¡¯d apparently been napping on the other side of the boat and shuffled over. Bernt had no idea how he managed to get comfortable enough to sleep, but that was a trick he was going to have to learn. He looked much better than he had when Bernt had last seen him, with new robes and carrying a backpack with a thick blanket.


    ¡°Torvald, Bernt,¡± he said, nodding to each of them in greeting, though he eyed Bernt a little suspiciously. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re all going demon hunting together.¡±


    Uriah had been... unfriendly when he¡¯d first learned about Jori. Since his return from Loamfurth, though, that wariness had blossomed into hate. It was a little unsettling.


    ¡°Man, I hope not,¡± Nirlig said sincerely. ¡°Fighting demons is awful with the burning blood and the rapid healing. I hope this goes smoothly. I¡¯ve never been south of here before ¨C it¡¯s all going to be new.¡±


    Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°There are still spies lurking in the city. I¡­ saw a shade a while ago. It even tried to take a poke at me. We should assume that they know what we¡¯re doing.¡±


    Uriah¡¯s eyes flicked back and forth across the deck, as if he thought he might find one hiding in plain sight right in front of them. ¡°I¡¯ll be ready for them,¡± he mumbled. ¡°They¡¯re going to regret¡­ everything. I''ll make them.¡±


    ¡°Ehm, Uriah,¡± Bernt said. ¡°Listen. I have a spell you might want to learn ¨C banefire. It burns demons, including shades. I don¡¯t think you can do anything about them with your hydromancy.¡±


    Torvald leaned back against the gunnel. ¡°I think Nirlig has the right idea. We''re as prepared as we''re going to get, and there¡¯s no sense in worrying over an uncertain future. We should make the best of the time we have. Come on, there¡¯s four of us. We can play a round of dice.¡±


    Nirlig sat down eagerly, producing dice from his pocket as if he¡¯d been waiting for this, along with a fistful of coppers for betting.


    Hesitantly, Uriah followed suit, sitting down across from Bernt. As he dug for loose change in his pocket, though, he met Bernt¡¯s eyes and nodded.

 3.19 A Call To Adventure

    Uriah pulled a face as gray banefire shot from his outstretched hand, splashing down not far away in the wake of the boat. The spell was a bit wispy, and it didn¡¯t have the proper fireball shape, coming out more like a diffuse stream of flames. Still, it would work in a pinch.


    ¡°That was good!¡± Bernt said. ¡°You just have to twist the shaping runes inward a bit more on the back end so the flames are all pointing toward the center. That¡¯ll help it hold the denser ball shape when it¡¯s moving.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be condescending!¡± Uriah complained, frustration clear in his voice. ¡°I saw the spell just as well as you did ¨C it was crap.¡±


    Bernt frowned at the other mage, surprised at his outburst. ¡°I¡¯m not being condescending. The spell will work just fine as it is right now. You just won¡¯t get very good range on it, and it might not kill a demon outright. But the first time I hit a possessed warlock, I didn¡¯t use a proper fireball shape either. It worked fine.¡±


    ¡°Hmph,¡± Uriah grunted. ¡°Still too slow, though. Damned fire spells don¡¯t make any sense.¡±


    ¡°So practice it,¡± Bernt said and rolled his eyes as he turned away to dig around in his bag.


    He wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d expected, but this wasn¡¯t it. Uriah was a terribly slow caster, likely due to his failed investiture as much as the unfamiliar spellwork, but he wasn¡¯t a slow learner. On the contrary, it had only taken him two days to produce cold fire, and his first real attempt at Bernt¡¯s banefire spell was at least a partial success. Despite that, the man was incurably self-critical to the point that it was beginning to get on Bernt¡¯s nerves. He treated anything less than instant mastery as a damning failure.


    It was an attitude Bernt couldn¡¯t understand. All spells went wrong at first, and Uriah had to know that. Working out the kinks was a normal part of the learning process, and one that normally took days or weeks depending on the complexity of the spell and one''s own familiarity with similar magic.


    Finding his stone teapot, Bernt held it out to the surly hydromancer, who summoned a stream of water from the river to fill it without further prompting. Visualizing the appropriate spellform, Bernt set the water boiling and set it down on the deck for Nirlig to sprinkle in a few tea leaves. The goblin did so, barely interrupting his conversation with Torvald. Making tea had become a rote process for the group over the past few days.


    Tea was practically the only way to stay warm, hunkered down in the open air on this stupid boat in the middle of winter. Predictably, most of the space belowdecks was used for cargo, leaving barely enough room for the Invigilation''s priests to get out of the weather. Torvald probably would have been allowed to join them, but he stayed on the deck with the adventurers and the legitimators. Most likely, he didn''t want people to think he was soft. Bernt hadn''t asked.


    Setting down a handful of cups, Bernt poured and picked one up for himself. He sipped carefully as the others grabbed theirs, doing his best not to scald his tongue and tuning out the conversation. It was too early to argue about the proper way to season catfish and he didn¡¯t care, regardless.


    They¡¯d been traveling downriver for nearly three days and should arrive in Fergefield soon. Progress had been slow, because the boat moved barely faster than a brisk walk. That was mostly because of the season, from what Bernt had gathered. The river ran low during the winter months, revealing rocks and sandbanks that could damage or ground a vessel like theirs. The captain, a merchant sailor named Kelreig, maneuvered them carefully downstream, dropping anchor each evening when it became too dark to see.


    As bad as it was, it was still a far more comfortable mode of travel than walking or bouncing around in a wagon. After today, that was what they would have to do. The fastest route to the Sacral Peaks was overland from Fergefield. From there, the road would take them another fifty leagues or so southward to Locholme before swinging around through Gobford toward Goldwater and eventually Norhold, which sat in a broad valley bordering both Madzhur and the Sacral Peaks. It wasn¡¯t exactly a straight route, but it circumvented large swathes of mostly untamed wilderness in Besermark¡¯s central highlands.


    Finishing his cup, Bernt stood up to stretch his legs. He squeezed past a few crates and a few adventurers, making his way toward the prow of the boat. He wasn¡¯t sure how much further they had to go, but maybe he¡¯d already be able to see Fergefield in the distance. It was smaller than Halfbridge, but Bernt had never been to another city. Who knew what he might find there? Trying to peer through the thin mists ahead, Bernt almost tripped over a pair of booted legs that stuck out from behind a crate. He caught himself,


    ¡°Hey,¡± a woman¡¯s voice said, weakly, ¡°watch it!¡±


    ¡°Sorry!¡± Bernt said automatically before pausing to take a closer look. She sounded terrible. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    The huddled form was wrapped in a thick cloak, though a few strands of black hair escaped from the hood. She clutched at a wooden bucket that reeked of sour vomit.


    ¡°Go away!¡±


    After a second¡¯s hesitation, though, her head jerked up. ¡°Wait, Bernt? What are you doing here?¡±


    When he saw her face, Bernt had to stop himself from flinching back. It was Elyn, and she looked terrible. Her face was haggard with deep dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was disheveled and skin looked sickly pale, nearly translucent. He hadn¡¯t seen the half-elf, or most of his adventurer friends, in over a month.


    ¡°What?¡± Bernt said, confused. ¡°What are you doing here? What happened to you? Did the others come, too?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she replied, letting her head fall back against another crate behind her. ¡°They¡¯re taking a break over winter. They have other jobs to do, and they can afford it, regardless. But there¡¯s not a lot of work for bards in Halfbridge right now, after the fighting. Nobody has money for entertainers, and every desperate refugee in Halfbridge is flooding the guild, desperate to make a few silvers to feed their families. All the local quests are gone the moment they''re posted, even the dangerous ones. I can¡¯t afford to sit on my hands until the spring thaw.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Bernt said. ¡°That makes sense. I got picked as one of the legitimators ¨C the one for Torvald, the Ruzinian.¡± The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    He hadn¡¯t really considered what would happen to someone in Elyn¡¯s position now. Most of his adventurer friends had other jobs. Sort of. He couldn¡¯t validate Oren¡¯s thievery as a job, even in his head. But Syrah was a consecrated priest, and Furin worked as a part-time smith in the new Crafter¡¯s Quarter. Therion was rich¡­


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t the others have helped you out until a better quest came along?¡± Bernt asked carefully. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s pretty clear you don¡¯t like traveling on boats¡­¡±


    ¡°Therion, you mean,¡± Elyn said, her miserable expression twisting into something faintly annoyed. ¡°He offered, sure. Elves are practically allergic to sailing, and it¡¯s not much better for me. But no. I don¡¯t need charity like that in a relationship. It¡¯s not healthy.¡± The half-elf stopped for a moment, going pale and breathing heavily over the bucket before letting out a ragged burp. ¡°You have to stand on your own feet,¡± she grated, ¡°or you might find that you can¡¯t walk away anymore. Dangerous, for a bard especially.¡±


    Bernt nodded. He could understand that attitude. Therion was a good person, and he tried, but he just didn¡¯t know. How could he? When you were in need, all gifts came with strings attached. Some were meant kindly, but that didn¡¯t mean the strings weren¡¯t there ¨C just that no one was pulling on them. It had taken him a long time to accept that it was worth it to accept help anyway, sometimes. Still, he would never fault someone for being wary.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Elyn said, looking left and right. ¡°If you¡¯re here with all those stuffy old priests, where¡¯s Jori? You didn¡¯t leave her in Halfbridge by herself, did you? I haven¡¯t seen her in forever!¡±


    ¡°Ah, no.¡± Bernt said carefully. ¡°That¡¯s kind of a long story, actually. Did you hear the rumors about her dragging Nuros back to the hells?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°No¡­ what? What are you talking about?¡±


    Bernt gave her a skeptical look. How could a bard have missed a rumor like this? Sensing his confusion, Elyn shook her head and continued. ¡°I¡¯ve been away. I went to visit my mother early in the siege. Figured it would be a good time to be gone. I only got back two days before the boat cast off. Barely managed to get the quest and pack. There wasn''t time to catch up on all the latest gossip."


    ¡°Oh.¡± Bernt said. ¡°Well, then I guess I have a story to tell you. Why don¡¯t I help you back to the others and I can fill you in.¡±


    Elyn frowned at him. ¡°What others?¡±


    ***


    Bernt helped Elyn toward the stern of the boat where he introduced her to the rest of the group. She nodded shallowly to each of them, still clinging miserably to her bucket. Nirlig, pleased to make the acquaintance of a real adventurer with ranks, kindly offered her a small bag of peppermint tea, which was apparently supposed to relieve nausea.


    ¡°My mother packed up enough herbs for me to supply an apothecary, and I didn¡¯t have the heart to fight her over it,¡± he explained. ¡°They¡¯re mostly meant for tea ¨C it¡¯s a cultural thing.¡±


    Considering all the things Lin could do with her teas, Bernt was curious to see it work. Pulling out his teapot once more, he brewed some up for the sick bard.


    As it turned out, it worked ¨C at least in the sense that Elyn now sat in a miserable heap holding her cup of tea rather than the bucket. It wasn¡¯t an enormous improvement, but the half-elf made her appreciation clear, drinking one cup after another as if hoping to boost the effect. By the time they arrived in Fergefield, Bernt had managed to catch Elyn up on what had happened to both himself and Jori during and since the battle.


    ¡°They sent Jori to the hells?!¡± she cried, aghast. ¡°Those monsters ¨C she didn¡¯t even do anything wrong! She was helping people. What¡¯s going to happen to her little interns?¡±


    The genuine outrage and dismay in her voice tugged on Bernt''s own emotions. It felt oddly cathartic. Many of his friends had sympathized, and a few had offered help, but they hadn¡¯t really understood. Even those who might have, like the Underkeepers who had worked with Jori every day, had treated her banishment like something regrettable, but also inevitable.


    It was personal for Elyn, and her reaction resonated with the anger that had been simmering in Bernt¡¯s chest over the entire affair for weeks. He wanted to tell her about the familiar bond and the portal, but he stopped himself, clenching his jaw. The others were his friends, and he could probably talk to them now that they''d left Halfbridge behind. But Uriah¡­ well, he had a problem with demons, and he clearly didn¡¯t care that Jori had been fighting on their side. Bernt would have to get the man''s measure before saying anything in front of him.


    ¡°Josie is in Teres, suing the Solicitors on her behalf,¡± he told her instead. ¡°She thinks she might be able to argue that they¡¯re not allowed to deport a government employee.¡±


    Elyn shook her head at that. ¡°Solicitors? I don¡¯t know, Bernt. That could take forever, if it works at all.¡± She scowled pensively, before looking at the others in the group, and then back at Bernt, before adding, in a careful tone, ¡°We should come up with some other ideas, for when we get back.¡±


    "I''m sure it''ll work out," Torvald replied with a reassuring smile. "Josie''s very smart. If she says she can get Jori back, then she can."


    Uriah raised an eyebrow with a frown, but he didn¡¯t say anything.


    Once the boat was moored at the city¡¯s docks, they helped her down to the pier and let her catch her breath for a minute as the others disembarked and began moving into the city. One of the other priests, an older woman named Surin, stopped to tell Torvald where they were going to be staying.


    ¡°Ah.¡± Torvald said, shaking his head. ¡°No, thanks. I¡¯ll join you tomorrow morning for our departure with my legitimator at the south gate. The goddess has a task for me here, and I doubt I¡¯ll make it back to the city before night.¡±


    Surin frowned at him, but then shrugged. ¡°Ruzinia always does work her people to the bone. Never saw the appeal, myself. You should take some of the guards along, make them earn their coins. They''re here for our safety ¨C that includes yours. We¡¯ll see you in the morning, alright?¡±


    Uriah watched the priestess go with a dead expression before sighing, mumbling to himself so quietly that Bernt could barely make it out. ¡°Well. Honest work, at least, right?¡±


    Nirlig turned to Torvald, clearly excited. ¡°You have a quest for us? What is it? Why didn''t you tell us before?¡±


    The paladin shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Oh. No, I mean, you don¡¯t have to come ¨C the call was for me. Bernt only has to go because he¡¯s my legitimator.¡±


    Elyn, now looking like a completely different person with her skin returned to her usual shade and standing tall, strapped a small backpack on and started walking, waving them along. ¡°Come on! We¡¯re all going. Can¡¯t let a bunch of green first-rankers get themselves killed on their first day outside.¡±


    ¡°Hey, wait!¡± Torvald said. ¡°You don¡¯t even know where to go.¡±


    Elyn turned around, walking backwards and pointing to her left. ¡°That way! There¡¯s a bakery by the west gate with the best cinnamon buns in the entire country. First Lesson: Never break into your travel rations when there¡¯s real food to be had!¡±


    Nirlig slapped Bernt on the shoulder and followed, already digging in his pockets for loose change. His pockets jingled heavily. Nirlig, as they''d all learned, had a phoenix''s luck when it came to dice.


    Bernt was sure Elyn''s bakery wouldn¡¯t measure up to a proper cabbage wrap ¨C he wasn¡¯t really much for sweet food ¨C but it did sound like something he should at least try. Besides, Bernt needed a minute to drop into the Mages'' Guild to notify Iriala of their arrival. This would buy him a little time.


    He exchanged a glance with Torvald and shrugged. The paladin sighed in defeat, and they followed, trailing a stoic-looking Uriah behind them.

 3.20 Side Quest

    Bernt went to find the Fergefield Mages¡¯ Guild while the others went ahead to the bakery. The receptionist raised an eyebrow at Bernt¡¯s scrawled note, but she agreed to submit it to the scryers when he pulled out Iriala¡¯s token. Ideally, Bernt would have liked to spend the day here, looking through the library to see if they had any interesting texts about pyromancy, sorcery, or even elemental summoning. Unfortunately, that wasn¡¯t going to work out today. He''d have to try to make time on his return trip.


    Torvald, now an official representative of the Invigilation, was leaving the city on a mission from his goddess. Bernt, as his official legitimator, had no choice but to go with him. Not that he really minded. It might be interesting to see what a paladin of Ruzinia did on a regular day.


    By the time Bernt found the west gate and the bakery where Elyn had taken the others, they were already coming back out. While the others carried one or two buns with a swirl of dark brown in the center, making appreciative noises as they sampled them, Nirlig stepped out the door with an entire armful. He looked around in panic as one near the top of the pile came loose, nearly tumbling to the floor. Torvald came to his rescue, pulling a large handkerchief out of his pocket. He wrapped as many as he could fit into it and presented the package to the goblin, who crammed what remained into his mouth.


    ¡°They¡¯re even better than they smell,¡± he raved around a mouthful as Bernt approached. ¡°If happiness had a flavor, then this would be it. Bernt, you have to try these, I got you a couple. You can thank me later.¡±


    Suppressing a smile, Bernt accepted the proffered bun, nodding in thanks. It was different from the ones they had in Halfbridge ¨C softer, for one, and with a nice caramelized glaze on the outside. The flavor was sweet and it was still warm. They practically melted in your mouth.


    Nirlig watched him intently.


    ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re good.¡± Bernt said, taking another bite. ¡°Do you think they have fresh bread?¡±


    ¡°Good?¡± Nirlig repeated, appalled. ¡°Just good? What is wrong with you?¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°I like them ¨C they¡¯re good. What¡¯s the problem?¡±


    Nirlig scoffed and turned away, shaking his head in disgust.


    ¡°Hey Torvald. What¡¯s the mission, anyway? Do you know where we¡¯re going?¡±


    ¡°Some kind of farm a few hours walk from here.¡± Torvald said, turning toward the gate and pointing. ¡°We¡¯re freeing someone from bondage.¡±


    Elyn frowned at the paladin. ¡°Wait, hold on. You mean a slave? I thought that wasn''t a thing here anymore.¡±


    Torvald shrugged. ¡°There are indentureships, though I don''t think that''s what this is. It has to be pretty serious to get the Goddess involved.¡±


    ¡°You don''t know?! How can you take on a quest without even knowing the objective?¡±


    ¡°I know that someone prayed for rescue, and that Ruzinia has called me to answer. What more do I need?"


    Elyn threw up her hands.


    ***


    It was past noon when they finally caught a glimpse of their destination, cresting a hill to reveal a narrow river valley below. Torvald stopped, peering down into it with interest. Nirlig, who¡¯d been trying to work out how to make a sound come out of Elyn¡¯s flute, nearly ran into him but was saved by the half-elf who hauled him back by his shoulder.


    ¡°That¡¯s the one,¡± the paladin declared, pointing down toward a collection of sorry-looking buildings clustered around a large stream that ran the length of the valley. ¡°Right down there.¡±


    Uriah stared at the tiny settlement for a moment, his brow furrowed.


    ¡°How do you know? It looks like every other village we¡¯ve seen so far. You really think they¡¯re slavers?¡±


    Torvald snorted and started down the winding road in front of them. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you guys can¡¯t see the huge glyph spinning over the town, then? Ruzinia isn¡¯t really known for subtlety.¡±


    Bernt exchanged a glance with Uriah. Glyphs were generally only used in the direct practice of magic ¨C so, by mages and enchanters. What was the point of showing one to a paladin?


    ¡°Hey, Torvald... what¡¯s the glyph?¡±


    Torvald shrugged without stopping. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Doesn¡¯t matter. The goddess will speak to me if I really need to know.¡±


    ¡°It could be important,¡± Bernt insisted. ¡°Even if it doesn¡¯t mean anything to you. Maybe it¡¯s a message for me or Uriah?¡±


    The paladin looked back at them and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Don¡¯t you think she¡¯d show it to you directly, then? It probably just means ''look here''.¡±


    When nobody responded, he gave a small, resigned sigh and bent down, scratching something into the packed dirt. It was a circle with two small lines coming out of the top, next to an elongated arrow shape that pointed straight down. Bernt had never seen it before. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    It was a symbol of some kind, sure, but it lacked the smooth, flowing contours of a real glyph. What was it?


    ¡°That¡¯s not a glyph,¡± Uriah said, confirming Bernt¡¯s suspicions as he looked over the pyromancer¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Or, not a mage glyph, I should say. It¡¯s a trade character, like people use out in the really rural villages where people don¡¯t learn to read. You¡¯d see them at the market sometimes, in my hometown. That¡¯s the one for oxen. Could also be mules, donkeys, that kind of thing. Beasts of burden.¡±


    Elyn gave the hydromancer a skeptical look before turning to Torvald, her hands on her hips.


    ¡°Torvald, we didn¡¯t come all the way out here to free an animal from a farm, right? Please tell me that¡¯s not what¡¯s happening.¡±


    In response, the paladin sighed and started walking down the road again. ¡°Come on!¡±


    It took another half-hour before they reached the first fields, and several minutes after that before they passed the first farmer, weeding his winter kale crops. He looked completely ordinary, certainly not like any kind of villain. The sight felt strange somehow. Ruzinia was the goddess of hopeless situations ¨C one who people only called upon in desperate circumstances. So, what was she doing, calling Torvald to a sleepy farming village out in the middle of nowhere?


    The houses grew a little more dense until, a minute later, they emerged into what passed for the village square here. It was a roughly circular open area ringed by what looked like a smithy, a bakery, a small temple to Eyeli and a handful of homes. Between those homes sat a few smaller shrines to whatever other gods the farmers here found cause to pray to. One of the larger ones had a crudely carved wooden statuette of a six-legged bear with insectile wings on it ¨C a shrine to Garrus, the god of beekeeping and pollination.


    The place wasn¡¯t exactly a hive of activity, but it wasn¡¯t deserted, either. There were a few people out, obviously working. The sound of laughter reached them from a few kids who chased each other down the unpaved streets on the other side of the square. When they came into view, most of them stopped what they were doing and watched them, clearly wary of strangers. No one immediately approached.


    Torvald ignored them and led the group across the packed dirt toward the right, where a gnome was hanging laundry next to his house. A tiny gnome girl, probably his daughter, handed him clothes¡¯ pins one after another as he worked. He nodded to himself and then waved to the gnome, who had stopped hanging laundry and was now looking at them as if trying to work out the quickest way to get rid of them.


    ¡°Hi, excuse me, I¡¯ve been Sent here to speak to Linnie. Is she here?¡±


    The gnome narrowed his eyes suspiciously before looking over the rest of the group. He spared an especially virulent glare for Nirlig.


    ¡°We don¡¯t need any adventurer business here,¡± he said shortly, ¡°and most certainly not with my Linnie.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sorry. I¡¯m not an adventurer,¡± Torvald explained with an embarrassed smile. ¡°I¡¯m a paladin of Ruzinia. I have a task here.¡±


    The tiny gnome girl jumped up and down in excitement. ¡°I¡¯m Linnie! You¡¯re here for Runty, right? You gotta help him! They only feed him proper during plowing season, and he¡¯s sick. It¡¯s the middle of winter and he sleeps outside in the cold. They don¡¯t even put him in the stable with the other animals. Everyone¡¯s always so mean to him and he didn¡¯t do anything. He¡¯s gonna die ¨C I can tell!¡±


    The older gnome gave a long-suffering sigh and looked to the heavens.


    ¡°Linnie, what did you do?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡± Uriah chuckled, raising an eyebrow at Torvald. ¡°You really did bring us out here to save an ox. I didn¡¯t know Ruzinia even accepted prayers by proxy.¡±


    ¡°You told me that if Runty deserved help, then the gods would handle it.¡± Linnie told her father, wagging her finger at him in childish indignation. ¡°So I told them, and they listened! One of them, anyway.¡±


    The gnome groaned. ¡°Oh no. We¡¯re never going to hear the end of this.¡±


    ¡°Come on! I¡¯ll show you where he is. You have to see for yourself, right? He¡¯s staked out in a pen over there.¡±


    ¡°Wait a moment!¡± the older gnome said, rushing to stop her. ¡°Don¡¯t just go wandering off with strangers. Give me a minute and I¡¯ll take them.¡±


    They waited a moment as the gnome finished hanging a few bits of clothing on his line and put away his basket. Linnie, meanwhile, tapped her foot at him with a stormy expression. Finally, the gnome took his daughter by the hand and gestured for them to follow.


    ¡°We had a problem with raiders about ten years back,¡± he explained as they walked. ¡°Goblins, at first, picking off the sheep and stripping the apple orchard at night. It stopped after a month or so, and we thought they¡¯d moved on. But then, a few weeks later, a shepherd went missing. Big, tough fellow, too. Then the peddler didn¡¯t show up. We went looking. Found the goblins¡¯ camp first ¨C what was left of it. A few broken bones, torn-up tents, and the smell. The peddler¡¯s pack was there, too. We couldn¡¯t really identify any of what was left of them. Cracked the bones to get at the marrow.¡±


    ¡°What was it?¡± Elyn asked when Torvald didn¡¯t respond immediately. ¡°Wyvern? Undead?¡±


    The gnome shook his head. ¡°We brought the whole town out with torches and pitchforks. Smoked them out into a clearing. Lost the baker¡¯s son in the fight, but we brought them down. They¡¯re tough, but stupid, too. And scared of fire. We were going to finish off the little one, too. Little monsters become big ones, you know? But old farmer Don figured we didn¡¯t need to kill it. He¡¯d lost a plow horse over the winter, see?¡±


    ¡°Yes, fine, I get it. But what is it?¡± Elyn insisted as they turned a corner. She stopped so abruptly that Bernt nearly bumped into her. ¡°Oh.¡±


    Suppressing his annoyance, Bernt stepped around the tall woman to see what all the fuss was about. Behind a low wall on what passed for the edge of the village a massive form sat huddled on the ground. It was huge, several times as big as an ox, naked and covered with pebbled gray skin. It was obviously malnourished, its skin cracked and hanging loosely from too-thin limbs and it had scars layered over each other on its flanks. Its tiny eyes were sunken, practically disappearing beneath its enormous brow.


    Manacles and a heavy chain bound both its arms to a solid stone pillar at the center of the enclosure. It pressed itself into a corner and whimpered like a whipped dog.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Uriah trailed off and looked back at the others, as if to check that they were all seeing the same thing. ¡°Are you using an ogre as a plowhorse?¡±


    Nirlig let out a nervous giggle, eyes darting left and right as if looking for somewhere to run. Bernt could empathize. Even starved, bound and obviously beaten into submission, the creature was just so godsdamned big. Even sitting down and hunched over, it was still head and shoulders taller than him. At full strength, Bernt couldn¡¯t imagine that something as small as that stone pillar would hold him.


    ¡°Runty didn¡¯t do anything!¡± Linnie¡¯s tiny voice piped up from behind the group. ¡°You gotta help him!

 3.21 Pied Piper

    ¡°Hold on a minute, now,¡± Uriah said. ¡°You can¡¯t seriously be planning to release a live ogre in the middle of a village. You know they eat people, right?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right.¡± Nirlig chimed in. ¡°Ogres are dangerous. Stealthy, too, for their size. If he starts picking people off in the woods, there¡¯s no guarantee they¡¯d ever manage to put him down. They¡¯re lucky they even managed to find this one¡¯s parents. Maybe it¡¯s because they had a kid ogre with them?¡±


    During his academy days, Bernt had spent a lot of time trying to learn as much as he could about the Beseri wildlands and what came out of them. This was where he¡¯d dreamed of making a name for himself and launching his career as an adventurer, after all. Ogres were near the top of the food chain ¨C below the lesser dragons but above nearly everything else. They weren¡¯t intelligent as humanoids went, but they didn¡¯t need to be. They were fast, tough, and they could blend into their environment thanks to their rock-like skin. This allowed them to hunt by ambush, despite their size.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to disobey Ruzinia just because you aren¡¯t comfortable.¡± Torvald said, drawing his sword and leaping over the low wall. ¡°Besides. Look at him. He¡¯s clearly terrified of people. I doubt he¡¯ll ever go near civilization again.¡±


    ¡°Stop!¡± the gnome called out as Torvald swung the weapon down at the massive chain. It shouuldn''t have worked. At best, the swing should have broken the sword. Instead, light flashed and the struck link shattered with a sound like a bell. Paladins acting in the course of their duties didn¡¯t have to worry about silly things like common sense.


    Runty flinched at the sound and rose of his feet, his breath condensing in a massive plume in the wintery air. He towered over the group, easily twice as tall as a man and three times as wide, despite his bony frame.


    Torvald took a step back and sheathed his weapon before holding out both hands.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, buddy. You can leave. Just let me get the rest of that chain off.¡±


    The creature stared down at the paladin in plain bewilderment. Bernt wasn¡¯t entirely sure if he even had the capacity to understand human language. Torvald took a step toward the ogre and it didn¡¯t react. That was probably a good sign, right?


    ¡°Hey! What¡¯s going on here?¡± A voice called, followed by a few other cries from down the street. Bernt turned to find an angry-looking man approaching, followed by several others. They were carrying hoes and pitchforks ¨C farmers.


    ¡°Nils, did you bring these people here? What are they doing with the runt?¡± he asked the gnome, who had pulled Linnie behind him at the others¡¯ approach.


    ¡°They¡¯re Ruzinians.¡± Nils replied, nodding toward Torvald. ¡°They said they¡¯re here to free him.¡±


    ¡°Idiot! They¡¯re probably adventurers from Earfield, I bet the baron sent them to poach him,¡± the angry farmer spat, turning toward Torvald. ¡°You, get away from there! This doesn¡¯t have to get ugly, but it will if you don¡¯t mind yourself. We took out that thing''s parents. Don''t go thinking we''ll back down for the likes of you just because you got a fancy sword there.¡±


    Bernt gripped his staff nervously. He wasn¡¯t going to let them get in Torvald¡¯s way. Ogres were dangerous monsters and killing them if they threatened your village was just standard procedure ¨C though normally the sort of thing a village would submit to the adventurers guild. But this¡­ whatever this was, it was wrong.


    Torvald ignored the man, taking another step closer to the ogre and reaching forward to grab the chain that was still threaded through the loops on his manacles. With a clinking noise, he began to pull it free. The farmer made a choking noise and stepped forward, but Nirlig stepped up and blocked his progress with his spear.


    Bernt needed a way to calm this situation. He didn¡¯t want to fight these people. They were Beseri citizens who hadn¡¯t actually done anything illegal. Fighting them could carry serious consequences. Maybe he could just scare them a little? Not moving so as not to provoke a response, Bernt visualized the spellform for a torch spell and, trying something new, routed the spell out through the top of his head. The light blazed brightly overhead, drawing everyone''s attention and casting shadows away from him.


    ¡°He''s not an adventurer.¡± Bernt said, trying to sound menacing. ¡°And you really don¡¯t want to find out what happens if you step in front of a paladin while he¡¯s trying to work.¡±


    They flinched back and backed up, staring fearfully at the flame. It was mostly harmless, of course, but they didn¡¯t know that. Seeing their terrified faces made him feel a little ashamed and he nearly canceled the spell. But... it beat having to actually harm them. He didn¡¯t have any gentle, non-lethal methods to deal with this.


    There was a grunting noise behind him, followed by a loud groaning noise that sounded vaguely like ¡°Noooo.¡±


    Bernt whirled around to see the ogre flailing its long arms from side to side, its eyes rolling around in their sockets in terror. Torvald dove back, crouching against the low wall to avoid an errant blow. Then something extinguished Bernt¡¯s torch spell and water splashed into his ear so hard that he took an involuntary step forward.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Damnit, no fire!¡± Uriah shouted.


    The villagers screamed and scattered, running for cover. All except Nils and Linnie, who was trying to run toward the ogre as her father tried to hold her back. The low wall of the enclosure shattered and Runty stumbled out into the street. He was clearly distraught, turning in a circle as if trying to keep an eye on everyone at once.


    ¡°Runty!¡± Linnie shouted. ¡°It¡¯s okay, you¡¯re safe!¡± The ogre¡¯s head whipped around, eyes focusing on the tiny gnome girl.


    Nils squeaked in terror and pulled her back down the street a few more steps, trying to shush her as she continued to try to reassure the gigantic monster. Runty just stared at Linnie, as if trying to make sense of the scene, but he stopped flailing around.


    Into that moment of almost-quiet, a pure, silvery note cut through the sense of chaos. Bernt suddenly felt safe, somehow. Relaxed, even. Before he knew what was happening, he¡¯d taken a step forward. The movement shook something loose in his mind and he stopped, shaking his head. What the hells was that?


    Runty, the gnomes and, surprisingly, Uriah were slowly shuffling toward the source of the music ¨C Elyn. The bard held her flute to her lips and took slow, even steps in time with the music, heading down the street, toward the tree line. A second later, Torvald emerged from the ogre¡¯s enclosure, looking a little bruised. There was a soft halo of light around his head. He absorbed the scene in confusion. Nirlig, who¡¯d been standing still, shook his head as he fought free of the effect of Elyn¡¯s magic much the same way that Bernt had done moments earlier.


    They exchanged a look.


    ¡°I guess she¡¯s getting the ogre out of the village?¡± Bernt said.


    Torvald spared a glance back the other way, where most of the villagers had gone. It was deserted. Clearly, nobody wanted to get involved at this point.


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s probably for the best. Let¡¯s go make sure nothing happens to the gnomes when she quits playing.¡±


    They hurried to catch up, which didn¡¯t take long considering their sedate pace. They were barely fifty steps out of the village when Nirlig shook Uriah out of his stupor. Meanwhile, Bernt and Torvald grabbed the gnomes and pulled them back, giving them a little more distance from Elyn. Nils clutched at his daughter in horror when he realized what had happened.


    ¡°What are you?¡± he hissed at them, watching as the huge ogre continued to shuffle after the half-elf. Linnie, meanwhile, still seemed more concerned about Runty than anything else.


    ¡°That¡¯s not nice,¡± she complained. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t do that to him! What if he doesn¡¯t know where he is when he wakes up?¡±


    Torvald smiled at her and crouched down to her level. ¡°He¡¯s going to wake up somewhere without walls, without chains, without fields to plow, and without mean people. How do you think he¡¯s going to feel?¡±


    Linnie¡¯s lip quivered and she sniffed, her eyes watering. ¡°But how will he know how to find me?¡±


    Nils let out a near-hysterical giggle at that. ¡°Linnie, dear. Runty is going to need to stay far away from the farmers, remember? They¡¯ll hurt him if they see him again, or try to put him back to work. Sometimes, doing what¡¯s best for someone means you have to let go, okay? Let¡¯s go home.¡±


    The tiny gnome hung her head, tears running down her face as she sobbed. ¡°Okay, daddy.¡±


    ***


    Jori kept her nose in the air as she flitted from rock to rock, keeping herself as low to the ground as she could.


    Tallash¡¯s stench was strong here ¨C old, rank blood mixed with a light sulfur undertone, as if someone had spiced a week-old corpse.


    She was getting close.


    They had captured more than twenty imps, so far. Most of them were still spawnlings, having been denied the soul fragments they needed to evolve even once. Four had taken the first step, either by circumventing their obligation to Tallash through some technicality, or by doing something to earn a reward. They were the most important imps to capture, though Jori wanted to get as many away from her enemy as she could before they struck.


    The imps would be obligated to defend the fiend when they moved on him, and she didn¡¯t want to kill her cousins in this place. Not if she could help it. In this world, death was not a simple inconvenience. They needed to isolate him as much as possible before they struck, so they could kill him without having to face anyone else, first.


    Unfortunately, she didn¡¯t know how many imps there were in total. Her current prisoners wouldn¡¯t tell her, since apparently telling her anything useful would violate their obligations.


    ¡°Cowards,¡± she grumbled quietly to herself as she ducked toward another rock. Remembering their resistance to questioning irked her.


    Demonic hierarchies weren¡¯t magically sealed like agreements with warlocks, they were just brutally enforced. They could tell her, if they were brave enough. The truth was that they didn¡¯t really believe that she could kill the demon, even though she had Ed with her and everything. At least, they didn¡¯t want to risk it. Sure, she could have forced them to talk if she¡¯d been prepared to use torture. But she wasn¡¯t.


    That would make her exactly like every other demon, and every other demon was doing it wrong. Mortals didn¡¯t have to torture each other to create power structures or to enforce loyalty. They didn¡¯t even always use contracts! Bernt certainly hadn¡¯t ever harmed or threatened her. He¡¯d been nice to her, had given her a safe place to sleep and fed her tasty food.


    That¡¯s what this was all about. She had to show them.


    A surprisingly loud smacking noise drew Jori out of her thoughts and she ducked down even further, swiveling her ears to try to orient to the sound. A moment later, she had it. Carefully and without making a sound, she shifted around the stone and peeked around the side.


    A large blood fiend sat on a rock, no more than ten steps away. Its disgusting, wet-looking skin hung off of it in shapeless, flabby rolls, partially hiding long arms and legs. As she watched, it lifted what looked like an imp¡¯s arm to its oddly protruding maw and tore some of the stringy meat from it.


    Jori shuddered and pulled back. She didn¡¯t look too closely at the ground, where the body lay. She didn¡¯t want to know who had become the thing¡¯s dinner today.

 3.22 Expedition

    Bernt and Torvald accompanied the two gnomes back to their house at the paladin''s insistence, both to keep Linnie from trying to pursue the ogre and to try to explain things to the locals. Judging by their behavior so far, it seemed likely that they would try to take out their misguided anger on the nearest scapegoat ¨C in this case Nils and Linnie.


    The villagers received them with angry glares and a few harsh words for Nils. Ignoring them, Torvald made straight for the tiny shrine to Ruzinia to offer a prayer. The effect was dramatic and immediate.


    Light flared over the town before falling like a shooting star and embedding itself in the lintel over the gnome family¡¯s door. The hostile villagers retreated quickly at the display, some even mumbling apologies. By the time the door opened and a puzzled-looking gnome woman ¨C presumably Nils¡¯ wife and Linnie¡¯s mother ¨C stuck her head out to see what was going on, the square was nearly deserted. Not looking to get bogged down in introductions, Bernt and Torvald set off, leaving a still-sniffling Linnie holding on to her father¡¯s leg as he attempted to explain why a fallen star in the shape of an incandescent golden glyph was embedded over the door.


    Unlike the one Torvald had described hanging over the town, Bernt recognized this one immediately. It was the core value embodied by Ruzinia ¨C shelter. Incidentally, also the core rune of a classical force barrier spell.


    Bernt doubted very much that anyone in that town would dare to give the little family trouble now. A god¡¯s favor wasn¡¯t a casual thing, especially not when displayed in such a blatant manner. The sorts of people who could elicit such an immediate response from a deity weren¡¯t ones to mess with, either, but that wouldn¡¯t hold much long-term weight, considering that they were already leaving.


    By the time Bernt and Torvald caught up to the others, nearly a league deep into the woods, the ogre was gone. Elyn¡¯s flute was back on her belt, and she watched the forest with both hands on her hips, eyes following something Bernt couldn¡¯t see. Nirlig stood to the side with Uriah, holding his canteen still for the hydromancer to conjure water into, which he did without complaint. After a moment, the half-elf turned and grinned at the two latecomers.


    ¡°Hey, you made it! Do I get some kind of reward for finishing the quest without you?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, not how it works... you already let him go?¡± Torvald asked, sounding worried. ¡°Don¡¯t you think we should have at least gotten him a bit deeper into the woods? I mean, a starving ogre this close to civilization¡­ we better hope he keeps going.¡±


    ¡°We got the job done, right?¡± Elyn said, shrugging. ¡°I doubt your goddess would have sent you to save him if he was about to go wipe out a homestead or three. Besides, he¡¯s weak and scared to death of people. We¡¯re done, let¡¯s go back!¡±


    Torvald rubbed at his face in frustration, looking downright conflicted for the first time since Bernt had met him.


    ¡°Elyn, I¡¯m glad you got him out of there, and thanks for the initiative. It probably would have turned into a mess without you. Still, in the future, let¡¯s try to make sure we¡¯re not endangering more people, alright? Or the creature we¡¯re trying to save. We should have fed him first, or something. I don¡¯t know. If this was a test, I don¡¯t think I did very well.¡±


    The half-elf shook her head and patted the paladin¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re overthinking it, cheer up! We got the ogre out and nobody got hurt. As ogre quests go, it¡¯s the cleanest one I¡¯ve ever even heard of. What more do you want?¡±


    She patted him once more, turned, and began making her way back the way they¡¯d come. Clearly, she didn¡¯t much care what happened once the job was done. It was, Bernt supposed, not an unusual mentality for an adventurer. Adventurers didn¡¯t get paid to consider problems outside their quest parameters.


    Of course, there was another point that was probably escaping the paladin.


    ¡°You don''t need to worry about the food. He¡¯s not going to starve, now that he¡¯s out," Bernt pointed out. "Ogres can eat almost anything if they have to. The villagers were probably starving him on purpose to make him easier to handle. He¡¯ll probably gorge on pine needles and bark or something. They only really need meat when they¡¯re in heat or pregnant, and Runty¡¯s a boy. And judging by what we saw, I don''t imagine that he''s going to go near any villages if he can help it.¡±


    The paladin gave a reluctant nod, somewhat reassured. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s good. How do you know stuff about ogre dietary behavior?¡±


    Bernt shrugged, ¡°I always wanted to be an adventurer growing up. There wasn¡¯t a real forest bestiary at the academy, but they had a book on natural history with a whole chapter on trolls and ogres. They¡¯re distantly related, apparently.


    ¡°Riiight. Okay.¡± Torvald shook his head. ¡°Still, I thought we¡¯d get him a bit further away from civilization at least. Is there no way we can track him down?¡±


    The others exchanged a glance.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Ehm. Wouldn¡¯t Ruzinia show you, if you were supposed to follow?¡± Nirlig asked. ¡°I thought you¡¯d know when you finished the task.¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡± Torvald said, still frowning. ¡°I suppose we don''t have time, in any case. Still, it feels like sloppy work.¡±


    ***


    They found the expedition just inside Fergefield¡¯s gates the next morning in front of the inn where the other priests had spent the night. Bernt did his best not to glower at the well-rested adventurers as they loaded two horse-drawn wagons and a carriage, which the three high priests had apparently purchased for their shared usage.


    Night fell early this time of year, and Bernt and the others hadn''t made it back to the city before dusk. They¡¯d spent the night camping in a barn, rented for a handful of coppers from a local farmer. Bernt could have lit the way easily enough, but it was generally considered bad practice to travel with bright lights in the dark. It was too easy to get picked off by something Sure, you didn''t have to worry about being spotted by bandits or a gnoll warband this close to a major city, but that didn''t mean it was safe. Dangerous creatures lived even in the more civilized parts of Besermark. They just tended to be stealthier and active at night.


    ¡°There they are!¡± someone called out. Bernt thought he recognized the voice and looked around, trying to place him. A moment later, Regin, the young nobleman who¡¯d been assigned as Angjou¡¯s legitimator stepped out of the crowd, waving at them. ¡°We were already worried you all would miss the rendezvous. That would¡¯ve been real bad luck, so early on a trip like this. Terrible omen. Glad to see you!¡±


    ¡°Right, okay.¡± Torvald gave the man a bemused smile. ¡°Well, we¡¯re here, so I¡¯m sure there¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡±


    The baron nodded amiably, patting at his jacket pockets in some kind of nervous gesture. ¡°Right, sure!¡±


    The others didn¡¯t bother them for the most part, beyond making sure everyone was present, then they set off. No one asked where they''d been or what they''d been doing, though they got a few curious glances. High Priestess Surin approached them briefly to offer Torvald a seat in the carriage, but it was clear that she expected him to decline, which he politely did.


    ¡°Why¡¯d you turn her down?¡± Uriah asked, once the priestess had gone. ¡°I bet it¡¯s a lot more comfortable in there than walking the whole way. Warmer, too.¡±


    Torvald scoffed. ¡°Comfortable is a matter of perspective. That carriage-ride is going to be a single, weeks-long debate, testing arguments and ideas against one another before we get to the Peaks. I don¡¯t want to get anywhere near all that. They¡¯ll just try to twist my head around with words if I go in there. I don¡¯t need any of that. Ruzinia told me to go, so I¡¯m going. I didn¡¯t sign up to play political games, and I¡¯m not going to do it.¡±


    Uriah grunted. ¡°Well, it didn¡¯t look like she expected you to anyway, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Adherents of Ruzinia don¡¯t usually indulge in the political side of things. She was just being polite,¡± the paladin explained. ¡°That''s why we barely have any proper temples. Most cities just get unstaffed shrines, barely more than you see in villages. Everyone who joins up gets put to work in the field ¨C even the priests. It¡¯s good. Simple. We just help desperate people who need it.¡±


    The sentiment encapsulated what Bernt liked about them well. After weeks of listening to Iriala¡¯s thoughts on power, politics and history, though, he couldn¡¯t help but look back at the carriage. What could the Temple of Ruzinia get done if they bothered to build up a powerful institution to back them? They wouldn¡¯t, Bernt knew. The way temples functioned was a direct reflection of their respective gods. If Ruzinia saw the value in large bureaucratic organizations, she would have built one centuries ago.


    "Do you free a lot of enslaved ogres?" The hydromancer asked, keeping his voice down.


    "Not that I''ve heard of," Torvald admitted. "But it makes sense, considering the circumstances."


    The small caravan began to move. Bernt looked over the group as he fell in next to Torvald, marching out through the gate and onto the open road to the south. There were twelve adventurers present, in all, which Bernt thought was probably overkill for most kinds of trouble that they might run into on a public road. Still, none of them were very high ranked. Elyn, now rank 3, was one of the more experienced adventurers around, excluding archdruid Leirin, who wasn¡¯t really here in his capacity as an adventurer, but rather as the legitimator to high priestess Surin. Still, he would surely fight if needed.


    Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t come to that. The Duergar weren¡¯t supposed to be aware of the conclave or of their expedition. But Bernt knew there were still shades in Halfbridge. Still, it couldn¡¯t be easy to intercept a group like theirs on a major road without being detected first. Besides, he¡¯d told the others about his shade encounter on the boat ride ¨C they¡¯d be vigilant.


    Putting his concerns out of his mind, Bernt took a deep breath of the crisp morning air, pulled out a slightly stale cinnamon bun and tried to enjoy the moment. He was on the road, finally, going new places with a bunch of friends and adventurers. Danger was implied, but so was adventure, new sights, new tastes and new magic. Behind him, Elyn and Uriah walked in stoic silence as Nirlig exchanged stories about various omens and superstitions with Baron Regin.


    The nobleman kept an unconscious distance from the goblin, walking nearly at the edge of the road as if afraid to get into arm¡¯s reach. Despite that, though, he questioned Nirlig animatedly.


    ¡°Wait, you really bite off your own finger if you accidentally kill a tree?¡±


    ¡°I mean, crazy superstitious people do, sure. Not the whole thing, though, just one segment at the knuckle. Gotta show the forest¡¯s spirit that you¡¯re sorry, or it¡¯ll curse you with bad luck!¡± Nirlig explained, with a theatrical wink. ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s not that easy to kill a tree on accident. We cut them down on purpose sometimes for lumber, but nobody makes a fuss about that. The spirits don¡¯t care as long as we don¡¯t kill the forest.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡¯s the point?¡± Regin cried, throwing up his hands.


    ¡°Well, if it made sense it wouldn¡¯t be a superstition, would it?¡± Nirlig said with a shrug. ¡°I mean, I saw a human woman spin in place twice before stepping through a door!


    ¡°I watched an old man turn and run away down the street because an owl flew overhead,¡± Bernt threw in. ¡°What¡¯s all that about?¡±


    Regin threw a glance back over his shoulder at Bernt and nodded, eyes wide. ¡°Owls, yes. Terrible omens, they are. Someone probably died.¡±


    Nirlig coughed into his hand.

 3.23 The Cripple

    By the time noon rolled around, the novelty of traveling forth into the unknown had worn off for Bernt. There were fields, copses of trees, more fields, villages in the distance, and even more fields. This region was the northernmost portion of Besermark¡¯s heartland, which was roughly a triangle marked out by the cities of Teres, Yetin¡¯s Harbor and Fergefield. These lands were well-protected between the Uvner River, which they¡¯d just traveled down, and the Aelan River to the west, which ran south from Besermark¡¯s geographic center to Teres and the Illurian Sea. It was also, incidentally, the ancestral home of Besermark¡¯s gnomish population.


    The expedition stopped at a level spot with a nice view for lunch, overlooking more fields and a small farming village. The adventurers mostly sat down in smaller groups to eat, while a few, including Elyn, stood sentry. Nirlig, ever sociable, immediately wandered off with Regin in tow to exchange a few stale cinnamon buns for whatever fresh-ish rations the others might have brought.


    As far as Bernt could tell, the gregarious goblin had by now made the acquaintance of everyone on the expedition, and he stopped to exchange a word or two with nearly everyone he passed by. The way he moved between people made him look in control and in charge somehow, especially with the young nobleman following behind him like that. It made Bernt wonder what kind of future Nirlig had in front of him.


    ¡°So, Bernt,¡± Torvald said as he dug a wedge of hard cheese out of his pack. ¡°You said yesterday that you were planning to be an adventurer back at the academy. How did you end up as an Underkeeper? Josie said you were a volunteer. Like, a real one. How did that happen?¡±


    Bernt shrugged, considering how to answer. ¡°It seemed like a good idea at the time. I thought it would be a good way to save some money without getting wrapped up in other people¡¯s business. I thought I could be a real, independent adventurer ¨C self made, but without all the risk of getting myself killed for lack of armor or a healing potion at the early ranks.¡±


    He scratched at the back of his neck, remembering his grand plans. He¡¯d thought everything was working out perfectly until what, three months ago? It felt like a lifetime. ¡°It didn¡¯t go like that, but I don¡¯t regret it, I don¡¯t think.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± Uriah grunted. ¡°That explains a few things. You were always practicing spells down in the sewers and thought we wouldn¡¯t notice. All the time. I always said it was too much for somebody who didn¡¯t have any ambition.¡±


    Bernt flushed, oddly embarrassed to realize that his secret practice sessions hadn¡¯t been so secret after all. Not that it mattered now.


    ¡°What about you?¡± he countered, deflecting. ¡°You were a volunteer, too, right?¡±


    The older mage¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°Of course I was. I messed up my third investiture pretty bad, so I had to be realistic. Underkeeping is a worthy vocation, regardless of what the upper classes or the higher ups at the academy think of it. Besides, it¡¯s a well-paid job for a guy who¡¯s practically a hedge mage at this point, and we do a public service. I made the best of my situation.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, I was just asking.¡± Bernt said.


    Uriah scoffed, but didn¡¯t argue further.


    ¡°So what happened?¡± Torvald asked curiously. ¡°I mean, with your magic?¡±


    Uriah sat back and dug out a cup, which he filled with conjured water before taking a slow sip. It generally wasn¡¯t polite to pry into these sorts of things, but Torvald didn¡¯t know that and Bernt wanted to know, too. So, he didn¡¯t say anything until Uriah finally sighed and answered.


    ¡°I accidentally created a tangent in my third investiture ¨C one of the glyphs is touching a join line from an entirely separate cluster in the spellform. It destabilizes the mana flow entirely, so the entire spellform is unusable and manifests as nonsensical chunks in my spells.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Torvald said, in the tone of someone who had no idea what that meant. Bernt winced. There were several ways for an investiture to go wrong ¨C a misaligned glyph, a double-traced line, or just an unsteady wiggle in the spellform could all have a variety of effects. Sometimes, the investiture would just be a little less efficient, or it wouldn¡¯t manifest quite as cleanly into spells. Other times, the investiture wouldn¡¯t be able to fuse properly, effectively ruining the mage¡¯s augmentation and their architecture with it.


    Mages in this position would have to work with three discrete investitures, which meant sorting through the influences of all three on every spell with each casting. It was slow and difficult to the point where even cantrips would take several seconds to cast with practice. In these situations, mages often attempted to repeat the same investiture again in hopes of finishing their augmentation. Once fused, its three constituent investitures would work together, synergistically empowering spells in a controlled fashion, like a single greater investiture. Of course, the bum investiture would still be there complicating things, but the effect was manageable with practice.


    Uriah, though, had it even worse than this. A tangent would allow mana to flow back on itself through the point of contact, leading to chaotic interference throughout the structure. His third investiture wrecked his existing spellforms in strange and unpredictable ways, meaning that parts of them might go missing during casting, while other bits of the broken investiture¡¯s spellform might manifest randomly. Worse, that tangent existed inside Uriah¡¯s mana network, so the mana in his body had to deal with unstable flow as well ¨C Bernt had no idea what that might do to a mage, but he very much doubted he would get an answer if he asked.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    It was something that further advancement simply wouldn¡¯t fix. Uriah could try finishing his augmentation, but that wouldn¡¯t significantly improve his casting speed at this point. And if he messed up again, he might not be able to work through the mess at all anymore. But¡­ well, that wasn¡¯t the only thing a mage could try, right?


    ¡°Magister Pollock told me people can learn to exclude portions of their spirit while casting with enough practice.¡± Bernt mused aloud. ¡°Maybe you could learn to do that? I heard it takes years, but if you could do that, then you could just ignore the problem, right?¡±


    Uriah sighed in exasperation. ¡°I¡¯ve looked into everything, Bernt. Everyone in my situation does. That technique requires extremely well-controlled mana flow to master, and mine is chaotic. Maybe if I¡¯d learned how to do it before ¨C but nobody learns archmage-level techniques before even becoming a magister.¡±


    ¡°Right. Sorry.¡± Bernt apologized. For a moment, he considered shutting up, but only for a moment. This was, in a very roundabout way, almost his area of expertise as a wizard. Or it might be, someday. Maybe. ¡°Has anybody ever tried cutting a broken investiture out of a mana network before? I mean, I¡¯m sure you could. Question is if it would work.¡±


    He¡¯d managed to heal a damaged channel. What if he could do more than that?


    Uriah shook his head wearily. ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t work. Cutting the spirit is traumatic, you can¡¯t just reconnect it to itself at will like that. You¡¯re crazy. You know that, right?¡±


    ¡°But that means someone has tried it, right?¡± Bernt replied. ¡°And you looked into it. Do you know what they did?¡±


    Uriah clenched his jaw, and for a moment, Bernt thought he wasn''t going to answer.


    ¡°The Madurians tried it with a demonic ritual forever ago," he said eventually. "That went about how you would expect. Someone else managed to get divine help from a priest of Aedina about a hundred years ago. That one survived, but ended up with a split mana network. The patient couldn¡¯t circulate mana anymore and ended up joining the priesthood instead.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Bernt considered. That option was probably out, then. He couldn¡¯t operate more cleanly on the spirit than an actual god. But that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t do anything. Pulling back the sleeve on his right arm, he showed the other mage his arm, shapes glowing softly under the skin.


    ¡°Did I tell you about how I got into the Wizard¡¯s Society?¡±


    Uriah frowned down at the pyromancer¡¯s arm.


    ¡°No?¡± he said warily. ¡°What did you do to it?¡±


    ¡°I was trying to fix spiritual damage. I nearly burned myself out after the kobolds invaded, and with the Duergar invasion right afterward¡­ well, that¡¯s all beside the point. I worked out a way to fix the damage during my next investment procedure. Problem was that the affected portion of my mana network manifested physically in my body when I did it. It still works, but it¡¯s different ¨C like a sorcerer¡¯s channels. The spells activate instantly, and the only way to modify the spellform is to sort of pinch off portions of it during the casting process.¡±


    Uriah stared at Bernt as if he¡¯d grown a second head. ¡°What? Wait¡­ No. What?¡±


    ¡°No, still not the important part.¡± Bernt said, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°What¡¯s weird about it is that when I cast through the investiture, it draws on my entire mana network. But when I draw mana from somewhere else, like my left hand, it doesn¡¯t. That means I can cast normal spells without using the sorcerous investiture, as long as I don¡¯t cast from my right hand.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t help me.¡±


    ¡°No, not right now,¡± Bernt agreed, growing excited now as the idea came together, ¡°but think about it! If I can figure out why it works like that, maybe we can flip it around so the sorcerous investiture can function without drawing on the normal ones. You could start over, sort of, but as a sorcerer! It would be almost like having two separate mana networks. Your regular one would be just as difficult to use as always, but the other one would be completely different.¡±


    ¡°Sorcery¡­¡± Uriah said, not quite managing to keep the distaste out of his voice. It was, by and large, considered a more primitive form of magic. The kind employed by monsters and people who couldn¡¯t be bothered to understand mana and the language of magic at a more fundamental level. But it was also the magic of the fae. True elves were highly secretive about their magical abilities, but rumors had always abounded about them. Flight, fully mobile protective magic, even teleportation. These were considered to be impossible by modern scholars ¨C no one reputable had ever seen and clearly documented anything of the sort. But¡­ well, the elves didn¡¯t share their knowledge. What secrets might they be hiding that humanity could now discover for themselves?


    Bernt had no idea, but he could practically watch as the possibilities warred with the potential stigma in Uriah¡¯s mind.


    ¡°There¡¯s going to be a lot of human mage-sorcerers around, soon.¡± Bernt said encouragingly. ¡°My treatment for mage burnout is going to force the issue, and Fiora told me that a lot of veterans are probably already trying to work out how to do it on their own, now that they know it¡¯s possible.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Uriah grunted noncommitally. ¡°How does it work?¡±


    Bernt explained the procedure, though he glossed over a few things. Specifically, when he got to the part about the hellfire-derivative, he renamed it his ¡°soulflame¡± and didn¡¯t mention what he¡¯d adapted it from. Uriah had been a bit oversensitive about things relating to demons lately. Or maybe he¡¯d always been that way. Bernt hadn¡¯t really known him that well before. When he was done, Uriah got up and shouldered his pack with a faraway look in his eye. The others were rising as well, and the sentries were coming back in, getting ready to go.


    ¡°It might be interesting, eventually,¡± the hydromancer allowed, finally meeting his eyes. ¡°But you¡¯ve still got a couple of big ifs in there. If you work out how to actually use that thing independently¡­ then come talk to me, alright?¡±

 3.24 Demons in the Night

    Ed was attempting to cook a pancake on a flat rock when one of the damned imps up and disappeared in the corner of his eye.


    That wasn''t right...


    He turned, peering more closely at the enclosure, which was now packed tight with the little buggers. Was there one missing? He began to count, but they were always squirming around so much. It was like trying to do a headcount during a bar brawl.


    ¡°Dammit, stand to attention!¡± he barked, and several of them did, though others ignored him. Still, it helped a little. He only had to start over twice, but he came up short by one.


    Shit.


    ¡°Jori, we¡¯re missing an imp,¡± he called over his shoulder. ¡°Which one¡¯s missing?¡±


    Jori, who had been heating their cooking rock with a tiny hellfire flame, peeled the pancake off the top with her bare hand and took a bite.


    ¡°Needs salt, I think,¡± she pronounced as she stepped up to the bars to peer inside. ¡°Just a pinch, though. Bernt always puts a little salt in the batter. Or maybe it¡¯s because we don¡¯t have any eggs. But we have salt. We should try it.¡±


    She bobbed back and forth, trying to get eyes on each of the imps inside. A moment later, she turned, frowning.


    ¡°Ed¡­ there¡¯s two missing, not one. Maladzhoth and Faedris.¡±


    Ed scowled into the space as if his displeasure could simply will them back inside. Where had they gone?


    Then another seized up for a moment, eyes growing wide as it disappeared as well, right in front of his eyes.


    Oh hells. That had better not be what it looked like.


    ¡°Hey¡­ do you think¡­?¡± Jori asked as another imp popped out of existence, followed by two more in quick succession.


    ¡°They¡¯re being summoned,¡± Ed said, rubbing at his forehead. ¡°Whenever they get back they¡¯ll be right back in here, but they¡¯ll be able to talk to the Duergar and whoever else they¡¯re summoning on the other side in the meantime. We need to move, now. Tallash will know who¡¯s after him, and he¡¯ll either run or get help if we don¡¯t get him first.¡±


    Jori hissed in agitation and beat her wings against the air. Then she calmed and turned, eyes alight.


    ¡°Wait, that means they probably summoned him, too, right? We know where the fiend is camped. Near enough anyway. It doesn¡¯t matter. They won¡¯t return together ¨C not unless they¡¯re all killed at the same time on the mortal plane. We can just pick them off as they return, get the imps out of the way and then ambush Tallash alone as soon as I smell him!¡±


    ¡°Good enough,¡± Ed said, looking distracted. ¡°As long as we¡¯re close, we should be able to get him without too much trouble. We¡¯ll need to take it in shifts, keeping an eye out. Maybe check the cell here every once in a while to see when they start regenerating. It¡¯ll give us a little advance warning, since I doubt Tallash leads from the front.¡±


    Killing that damned demon wasn¡¯t going to be a problem. No, Ed was more worried about the Duergar. If they were summoning even the imps, what did that mean? Were they coming for another city?


    He felt a clawed hand pat his arm, and he looked down at the little demon, his only company in this place.


    ¡°You¡¯re wishing you were back home to fight them?¡± Jori asked.


    ¡°Hmph.¡± Ed grunted. ¡°Of course I am. For all we know, they¡¯re taking another poke at Halfbridge while I¡¯m sitting in a godsdamned cave. What use am I here?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Jori said, teeth glinting as she grinned a vicious, sharp-toothed grin, ¡°think of it this way. Back home, all you can do is send Nuros¡¯ servants home. If you kill them here, they¡¯ll stay down forever.¡±


    ***


    The expedition bedded down at a well-used campsite by the road just a few hours later. There were a lot of villages around this area where a single traveler might find a bed for a night with the odd farmer, but there were very few inns. A few of the adventurers had pointed out that they might be able to rent a spot to sleep in someone¡¯s barn rather than out in the open ¨C but the priests had refused. They had their pride to consider, after all.


    Still, it was much better than the cramped, wet boat ride had been. Some of the adventurers unloaded supplies and worked to set up tents for the priests. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure if they were being paid to act like servants, or if they were just hoping for a tip, but he guessed it was the former. A few tried to engage them in conversation when they came out of the carriage, inviting them to sit at their fire.


    Now that Bernt thought about it, there had to be some higher-ranking adventurers here besides Leirin, right? At least, one or two of them had to be connected. If Iriala went to such trouble to prepare him for this trip, surely branchmaster Ambrose would have an agent or two among the guards to communicate the guild¡¯s interests to any listening ears. He should probably be joining them right now, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to do it. He was too tired, and the insincere flattery was painful to watch. Besides, the other legitimators weren¡¯t participating either. Captain Emata stood like a shadow behind Hannis¡¯ shoulder while Lierin appeared to be growing a bed for himself from what had been dry grasses under a tree just moments before.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Regin was standing around as if he couldn¡¯t figure out what he was supposed to do, but Elyn took pity on him a moment later. The half-elf put him to work finding rocks to put around their fire. Bernt wasn¡¯t sure how he felt about them essentially adopting the young nobleman into their group. He seemed in over his head, which wasn¡¯t great. On the other hand, he seemed surprisingly normal for a guy with a title, and Nirlig seemed to like him.


    Finding a reasonably dry spot, Bernt cast a large torch spell through his right arm, flexing and modulating the sorcererous investiture by feel as he did so. He¡¯d never cast this exact spell with these modifications before, but it was very close and it just felt right.


    Sure enough, a large white blaze materialized, hovering a few inches off the ground and flickering up in a mesmerizing pattern ¨C as fire tended to do. It had no physical fuel, produced no smoke, and if he¡¯d done it right¡­


    Bernt shaped a small amount of mana into a ball in his left hand and ¡®tossed¡¯ it into the flames. Nothing happened. The pyromancer grinned, settling down as his group dropped their things and began unpacking food and blankets.


    ¡°I take it you just worked something out?¡± Uriah asked, squatting down next to the fire and examining it curiously. ¡°What were you testing?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a modified version of a perpetual flame.¡± Bernt explained and Uriah scrambled back, falling on his ass. A few of the others looked their way and one laughed and pointed at the downed hydromancer. Uriah ignored them.


    ¡°Gah! What the hells! Are you nuts? You can¡¯t just cast something like that here! There¡¯s mana everywhere. Practically everyone¡¯s gear is enchanted ¨C you¡¯re going to kill somebody!¡±


    ¡°Easy, relax!¡± Bernt said, holding a hand out as if trying to soothe a spooked horse. ¡°I modified it, remember? The spell has a defined burn rate, so it can¡¯t spread. I mean, don¡¯t stick your hand in it, but it¡¯s safe. Mostly.¡±


    Still eyeing Bernt warily, Uriah got back up.


    ¡°Is it really that dangerous?¡± Nirlig asked, looking between the two casters a little bemusedly. ¡°I mean, I saw what it could do to mages during the battle, but honestly, really hot fire kills people. Who cares if it burns mana, right?¡±


    Uriah shook his head. ¡°You don¡¯t get it. If it burns your enchanted gear, it¡¯s going to hurt and your skin gets burned. Maybe badly. If it gets me, it¡¯s going to ignite the mana running around inside my body. I don¡¯t care what Bernt says, I¡¯m not cooking my food over that.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Nirlig shrugged, holding out a pot. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. Can you give me some water? I traded for some salted pork from Kanan over there earlier ¨C he¡¯s got a whole barrel stuffed away on one of the carts. We can cook it up with some potatoes, and I think I saw some greens we can eat growing under those trees over there.¡±


    As it turned out, Nirlig was an excellent cook.


    ***


    The attack came three hours after dusk. After a full day of walking, the adventurers were tired, and those who hadn¡¯t drawn the short straw for sentry duty were fast asleep. There was an abrupt shriek in the darkness, cut off almost as quickly as it came. The sound was so raw and inhuman that it didn''t feel real, for a moment, but it woke the entire camp.


    Then another, more normal scream sounded and shouts answered. Almost by reflex, Bernt cast torch spells, manifesting them as far away from himself and the others as possible, over the road and a nearby ditch. No need to mark themselves as targets if they could help it, but they needed to see something. Where was the enemy?


    A dark shape was sprinting down the road on all fours. It was larger than a man with burning, red eyes. As it opened its mouth, fire dripped down onto the road in a sulfurous dribble.


    ¡°Hellhound!¡± Bernt shouted, conjuring banefire in his right hand. ¡°Demons!¡±


    Others were shouting now, and people were moving around him, but he wasn¡¯t paying attention. With a throwing motion, Bernt adjusted his aim and flung the gray fireball at the hellhound. The thing dodged and the flames struck the road right next to it. That was fine, though. Thanks to Bernt¡¯s burning rain investiture, the power impacted like a liquid, spattering over the demon¡¯s legs. It screeched in agony and fell, rolling around in an attempt to put itself out.


    Then Torvald was there, swinging his sword through the creature¡¯s neck with liquid grace. He whirled away even as he did so, avoiding the spray of hellfire the came pouring out of the gash. A shout sounded to Bernt¡¯s left and he looked to see Uriah beating a small winged creature with a staff before ramming the end down into its chest with a crunching sound and a small burst of hellfire as a rib punctured the imp¡¯s skin. Hey, that was his staff!


    More shouts rang through the camp and a searingly bright light cut through the darkness, gone just as quickly as it came and leaving Bernt blinking in the darkness. He could smell sulfur in the air. Nirlig cursed and Torvald shouted for someone to duck. Something hissed, nearby. Belatedly, Bernt activated his thornskin amulet, feeling thorns burst out through his skin and catching on the inside of his robes. It was annoying, but his caution was rewarded a moment later, when something landed on his head. He dropped his chin as claws gouged at his face and chest.


    Screaming in pain and surprise, Bernt slapped at the thing, trying to shape a simple spellform in his mind as he did. It took a moment longer than normal, and it looked a bit weaker than it was supposed to be, but the dim, gray torch spell formed directly in front of his face. The demon shrieked and tried to jump away, but it had already caught fire. Its skin cracked and sulfurous hellfire burst out, though it flickered and died soon after, smothered by the cold gray fire as the imp stopped struggling.


    Dimly, Bernt heard chanting from the wagons, followed by another flash of light. Then another and another.


    A bloody dawn rose over the camp, illuminating demons everywhere ¨C imps, hellhounds, fiends and other things that Bernt didn¡¯t immediately recognize. Some were humanoid, some more like beasts, and still others had no clear taxonomic reference at all. Josie might know what they all were, but to Bernt they were just monsters -- twenty five, maybe thirty of them. A voice rose over the din, clear and sonorous and ringing with perverse rapture.


    ¡°Come, assassins! You who would challenge the Conqueror! Come, you who crave the taste of true defeat! Noruk has tasted your blood, and he is thirsty, still!¡±


    Bernt wasn¡¯t sure if it was the words or the unearthly light. Maybe demons could sense the hostile attention of a god directly. Regardless, they fled, withdrawing just as quickly as they¡¯d come.


    A shadow flickered by and joined Bernt¡¯s own, causing it to twitch and flicker back and forth, despite the steady red light blazing from where the wagons stood and his own nearby torch spells.


    ¡°Found you¡­again,¡± a voice whispered into his ear. ¡°We have you¡­ now. Soon. Next time.¡±


    Bernt flinched violently away from the sound, casting a light with his right hand even as he launched a diffuse cone of cold fire down at his shadow with his left.


    The shade disintegrated with a sound like water in a hot pan.

 3.25 Honesty

    Bernt looked at the mangled camp all around, feeling sick. Those demons had been tracking him.


    The entire fight had barely taken twenty or thirty seconds ¨C as long as it took the priests to get involved. High Priest Hannis in particular had turned the fight around almost immediately. The bloody red light hung high over the man¡¯s head like a judgmental eye as he pursued the fleeing enemy. While paladins were technically the martial champions of their respective gods, all of Noruk¡¯s chosen were called to fight.


    As Bernt watched, the old man darted after a short, goat-headed demon and kicked its leg, tripping it. The creature twisted as it fell, flinging a gobbet of hellfire toward him. Impossibly, the priest slapped the flaming projectile to the side barehanded with snakelike speed even as he laid his other palm on the creature¡¯s forehead. He followed it to the ground almost gently as it fell.


    Brilliant light flashed once more and the thing collapsed in a heap, dead.


    It was over. Demon corpses lay strewn across the ground, ten or more of them. They''d been surprised in their sleep, but the adventurers had reacted quickly.


    Their losses were minimal, all things considered. Three of the four people who¡¯d been standing sentry were dead, and one adventurer had been struck by hellfire in his bedroll. Several others had serious hellfire burns, including a ranger whose leg had been burned down to the bone. Surin and Angjou provided healing, but not everyone was going to recover fully. Serious burns could only be fully treated by expensive specialists, through a combination of alchemical and clerical healing. Surin assured them that the temple would generously cover the costs, but they would have to take a boat to Teres when they reached Lochholme.


    Bernt¡¯s group was, ironically, nearly unhurt. Elyn had dragged Regin toward the middle of the camp, away from the worst of the fighting, since neither of them could contribute much in this kind of situation. The others had fought, but they¡¯d beaten their opponents handily. Bernt¡¯s robes had some small tears in them and his face burned a bit where the imp had clawed at him, but the scratchy thornskin amulet had done its job.


    He almost hadn¡¯t worn it to bed. The brambles were still occasionally scratchy, even if most of the ones that came in contact with his skin had broken off by now. It probably wouldn¡¯t last much longer.


    ¡°Hey. You alright?¡±


    Bernt blinked and met Uriah¡¯s eyes. The man was waving a hand in front of his face.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± the hydromancer said, holding out Bernt¡¯s staff. There were scorch marks and pitting that cut through some of the carved runes on the end. ¡°Sorry about the damage, I didn¡¯t really have time to cast. That little demon came out of nowhere. We can probably get it fixed in Lochholme. I''ll pay for it.¡±


    Bernt accepted the staff, inspecting it. It wouldn¡¯t work as a focus until the runes were repaired. The heavy hardwood didn¡¯t channel mana properly anymore, but it wasn¡¯t too bad. After a moment, he handed it back. Uriah had grabbed it because he didn¡¯t have his own focus anymore.


    ¡°No, it''s work equipment. We can get it reimbursed. You keep it, for now. I have a wand, anyway, and the staff gets in the way when I¡¯m trying to cast with both hands. Just give it back when we get home.¡±


    Bernt also still had a weak general focus on his left hand in the form of an iron ring that he¡¯d bought from Grixit the day they¡¯d first met. It didn¡¯t do much ¨C it just recognized and helped the caster properly align a handful of common types of glyph formations within a spellform. Bernt mostly just used it to support his stoneshaping, but it could make most spells a little more efficient and quicker to cast.


    Uriah took the staff and nodded in thanks.


    ¡°You might want to take a potion. Those scratches are pretty deep. You¡¯re lucky that thing didn¡¯t take your eye out.¡±


    Wiping some blood out of the eye in question, Bernt cast a torch spell and dug around in his bag for a minor healing potion. The priests had serious injuries to deal with, and unless he wanted scarring on his face, he¡¯d need to do something about the scratches. While they didn¡¯t work quickly, even a minor potion would see him fixed up in an hour or so. The damage was just skin-deep, after all.


    ¡°How do you think they found us?¡± Torvald asked a few minutes later. The adventurers had settled down again, though the camp was still bathed in angry red light. Hannis apparently wanted the demons to know that his god was watching. Nirlig, having better night vision than the humans, had volunteered for sentry duty. The others, including a wide-eyed Baron Regin, sipped tea around the fire. Nobody was going back to sleep any time soon.


    Bernt swallowed, looking around the group. He needed to tell them.


    ¡°I¡­ I think I saw that same shade that jumped me back in Halfbridge. It tried to taunt me. So¡­ I think they¡¯re after me, specifically.¡±


    Torvald scoffed. ¡°Maybe that shade is, but the whole pack of them? Come on. I¡¯m the one that broke their huge soulstone during the battle, and we have three high priests here. We¡¯re going to be the only people at the conclave who have actually seen the threat first hand. It¡¯s natural that they¡¯ll want to stop us. They¡¯ve probably been spying on us this whole time and just waiting on an opportune moment to strike at us. There¡¯s probably an entrance to the Depths near here. The real question is why they only sent demons. And why were they so weak? I barely saw any hellfire, compared to the battle in the Undercity.¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Weak?¡± Regin choked. ¡°I watched one of those things tear Tarik¡¯s guts out with its bare hands ¨C through his armor! I can¡¯t believe he¡¯s still alive!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate adventurers,¡± Elyn said. ¡°They¡¯re tough, especially the straight fighters. They can come back from almost anything as long as they get healing quickly enough. If you can get all the bits back in the right places. It¡¯s the alchemical enhancements. He¡¯s third rank, so he¡¯s probably got a few. Survivability is usually the first thing they¡¯ll work on.¡±


    Regin stared at the half-elf in horrified fascination. ¡°How do you survive getting gutted?¡±


    ¡°Probably an endless breath enhancement. It keeps you going for a while when you¡¯re bleeding out, or drowning. It¡¯s a whole process and it¡¯s insanely expensive ¨C but you don¡¯t have to join any guilds for it. It¡¯s worth it if you plan to get stabbed for a living. I wish I could afford one for myself.¡±


    Bernt let the conversation fade into the background as he sipped his tea. Torvald had a point, the Duergar would want to stop their entire group. But that didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t after him specifically as well. Also, the others still didn¡¯t know that Nuros had put a price on his head ¨C he couldn¡¯t tell them without revealing his bond to Jori.


    But they were far from Halfbridge now, and out of reach of its political games. The time for secrets had passed, mostly. He¡¯d been meaning to talk to them anyway, especially Elyn, ever since he¡¯d found her on the boat. Only Uriah¡¯s constant presence, and now Baron Regin, had held him back. He didn¡¯t know or trust them as well as the others, but he couldn¡¯t afford to keep waiting forever.


    Making his decision, he turned to the nobleman, who was listening to Elyn describe various alchemical enhancements with horrified fascination. While the alchemical details were proprietary secrets of the Alchemists¡¯ Guild, it was well known that the procedures themselves were invasive and horrifically painful. Bernt cleared his throat and tapped him on the shoulder.


    ¡°Hey, do you think you could cover Nirlig¡¯s sentry spot and send him back here for a minute? I need to talk to him about something.¡±


    Regin blinked at him owlishly for a moment, then understanding dawned and he got up.


    ¡°Cover his¡­? Right, sure. Private conversation. No problem.¡±


    By the time Nirlig arrived, the others had picked up on Bernt¡¯s mood, and Uriah looked downright suspicious. Rightfully so, he supposed.


    ¡°I need to tell you guys about something,¡± Bernt said, keeping his voice low, ¡°and I¡¯m telling you with the understanding that you¡¯re not going to spread it around, alright?¡± He narrowed his eyes at Uriah, singling him out. ¡°That means you, especially, if you want me to try to help you with your advancement.¡±


    Uriah grimaced sourly. ¡°What did you do?¡±


    ***


    It took nearly two hours for Jori to pinpoint Tallash¡¯s last location. It was just a bare patch of rocks, but it was where her scent was the freshest. Jori grimaced thoughtfully. That was the wrong word. Strongest? Recent-est? There was nothing fresh about it.


    Picking a nearby boulder, Jori flung a handful of hellfire at it. It splattered messily, leaving black vitrified marks where struck. The mark might become important if Tallash was gone long enough for the smell to dissipate. And for Ed, who couldn¡¯t smell things very well.


    The man sat on a nearby rock, packing his pipe again.


    ¡°That¡¯s the spot, then?¡± he asked rhetorically. ¡°Alright. How long do we have to wait after one gets killed before they¡­ pop back up here?¡±


    Jori shrugged. ¡°Depends on the demon, I think. And how they die, or if they just get banished.¡±


    ¡°So, you don¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°A day or two, probably,¡± Jori said with a shrug. ¡°I didn¡¯t die on the mortal plane. I just know what Josie told me. When I was banished, it felt instant.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what it was like for me, too,¡± Ed grumbled.


    Jori climbed up onto the boulder and stood up tall to get a good view of the surrounding area. It was completely desolate, gray and brown. The sky was a dull gray and black and she could see filthy rain falling in the distance.


    ¡°Ugh, this place is terrible,¡± she complained.


    Ed chuckled, smoke coming out of his nose in little spurts. ¡°Really? You don¡¯t say. I¡¯m not taking camping advice from Tallash, I can tell you that. I¡¯ve got bruises on my ass. It¡¯s like every rock here has pointy bits coming up in the worst possible places.¡±


    ¡°No. I mean all of it, the whole world... what¡¯s the point?¡± Jori gestured out at the dead landscape. ¡°There¡¯s nothing here except bugs, lichen and sometimes a soul or two, if you¡¯re lucky. And demons, of course. But we fight over it like it¡¯s some kind of paradise. Demon Kings and Lords control massive territories. They fight wars with each other all the time. Smaller demons serve the great ones to avoid destruction and to win souls. We make pacts with mortals to get them fresh, so we can grow even faster. All so we can get our own patch of rocks and bugs and lichen and fight other demons even more. But why? What¡¯s the point?¡±


    Ed shrugged. ¡°Souls, right? You just said it. Demons can¡¯t grow without souls.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡± Jori asked, pleading. ¡°For what? There¡¯s nothing to enjoy here. No good food, no interesting things to see or to discover, no friends, nothing with any kind of value. It¡¯s all fighting and gathering souls and growing and fighting again. Sure, you can fight and win wars, but what do you actually get at the end?¡±


    Ed scratched at the back of his neck.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I suppose it¡¯s not that different from back home, in that sense, just a lot darker. It¡¯s one of the big questions. Why are we here?¡±


    Jori rolled her eyes. ¡°We were banished!¡±


    ¡°You know what I meant, imp,¡± Ed grumped. ¡°It¡¯s a big question because there isn¡¯t an answer. Who¡¯s to say what the point of it all is? You have to decide for yourself how to give your life meaning. I always figured it¡¯s best not to overthink things.¡±


    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t help thinking, alright? I don¡¯t think there is a point,¡± Jori said. ¡°At least not here. This whole place is wrong. How is anyone supposed to be happy if everything is only terrible all the time?¡±


    Ed looked at Jori contemplatively for a long moment, then he slid down off the rock and turned to wiggle his fingers in the air a bit, like he did when he was casting a spell. The uneven surface of the rock flowed back, forming a back rest and smoothing the sitting surface in a very shallow bowl shape. Then he settled back down with a sigh and put his feet up on another rock.


    ¡°You know, Jori, I think you might be the first person crazy enough to ever ask that question here. Maybe that¡¯s why it¡¯s like this.¡±

 3.26 Guerilla Demons

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡± Uriah said, glaring at Bernt. ¡°You¡¯re talking to a demon in the hells, and you¡¯re surprised we got ambushed?¡±


    ¡°Hey, watch it!¡± Elyn reprimanded him. ¡°Jori wouldn¡¯t betray us. She''s a friend.¡±


    ¡°Besides,¡± Torvald added reasonably, ¡°Ed is with her. Do you think he¡¯s the kind of person who would let something like that happen? You''re being ridiculous.¡±


    Uriah visibly controlled himself, seeing that nobody else was apparently on his side of the issue. ¡°Even then, you have to maintain some kind of connection, right? How many of those are there, running between our world and the hells? They can probably trace it right to you with the right kind of seeking spell.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Bernt stared at his former coworker in genuine confusion. ¡°That¡¯s not how familiar bonds work. They¡¯re totally passive ¨C there¡¯s no metaphysical link or anything there to trace. That¡¯s why they¡¯re range-dependent. They probably just had the shade follow us. Didn¡¯t you go to the academy?¡±


    ¡°Companion-Bonds was part of an elective scrying course in Henfelden,¡± Uriah said defensively. ¡°I swapped it out for advanced agricultural water management. You still shouldn¡¯t trust a demon like that, regardless.¡±


    ¡°Your concerns are noted.¡± Bernt said shortly, instead of telling him to shut up. And Iriala had claimed he wasn¡¯t a natural diplomat. That would show her. ¡°The point is that Nuros wants her, and they think they need to kill me to get her loyalty. So, maybe they¡¯re after everyone here, sure, but they¡¯re definitely trying to kill me personally. I had to tell you, because you deserve to know that being near me will put you in danger.¡±


    Looking around, Bernt still wasn¡¯t sure that the severity of the situation was getting through to them. Elyn looked a little concerned, at least, and Uriah was obviously irritated, but he¡¯d still expected more of a response.


    ¡°Eh.¡± Nirlig said, shrugging. ¡°Did you see how they came at us? I mean, that wasn¡¯t an assassination. They were just trying to overrun us. That, or these demons were all idiots.¡±


    ¡°Or they didn¡¯t have very much time to plan the attack,¡± Torvald mused. ¡°We don¡¯t know exactly how well they¡¯ve been tracking us. Maybe they didn¡¯t expect us to be here today, or they couldn¡¯t get the warlocks they needed into place. That would explain why there weren¡¯t any Duergar soldiers, either. I don¡¯t think any of them were as dangerous as Jori, and she¡¯s not considered all that powerful, right?¡±


    Bernt nodded. ¡°Not as far as I saw. I don¡¯t really know about the ones that High Priest Hannis killed, but I¡¯m guessing a class four or five demon would have put up more of a fight. They also mostly fought by hand ¨C barely any magic. More powerful demons use shadows and hellfire and that horrible screaming thing that Josie has from her pact.¡±


    ¡°We got lucky.¡± Uriah summarized uncharitably. ¡°If they¡¯re following us below ground, then maybe we¡¯ll be fine, but we don¡¯t even know exactly where in the Depths the enemy lives. For all we know, we¡¯re walking toward their cities, and they¡¯ll be able to hit us properly the next time we camp too close to an access point.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Torvald allowed. ¡°Regardless, no one is under the illusion that this is a one-off attack. I¡¯ll talk to the priests, and make sure that we always have one of us on watch. Surin and Angjou can''t really fight, but I think they can sense an attack before they hit the sentries. A few seconds'' warning can make a big difference, especially with Hannis. You saw how terrified they were of him.¡±


    Bernt cleared his throat, ordering his thoughts. ¡°I think I can help with that, actually. Keeping them off of us, I mean. I¡¯ve been thinking about ways to protect myself from shades¡­¡±


    ¡°You mean that torch spell you¡¯ve been running around with all the time lately?" Torvald asked. "How many shades do you think they have?¡±


    ¡°No! I mean, that¡¯s what gave me the idea, but I¡¯m not sure this would actually work against shades. Otherwise I would have already used it. It probably won¡¯t stop the bigger imps, either, but¡­ just wait here. I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    Rising, Bernt wandered over to where Baron Regin was standing sentry, looking into the darkness with attention born from fear. The angry red light that had illuminated the camp earlier had dimmed considerably, fading slowly now that the conflict was past and letting the dark of night creep back in. The nervous man whirled around when he approached and sighed with relief.


    ¡°Ah, it''s you. Thank the gods! You know, once you see actual monsters come crawling out of the dark, those old childhood fears don¡¯t seem so childish anymore.¡±


    Bernt patted the skittish nobleman on the shoulder.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. We can have Nirlig take over again, or I''ll do it.¡±


    As Regin retreated back toward the fire, Bernt extended his right hand and began to cast. It was cold fire, modified in a very different manner than his banefire spell.


    His sorcerous investiture flexed in a way that was starting to feel more and more intuitive and he produced a thin stream of liquid silvery flames that shot out of a finger as he swept it down in a line. The spell only lasted for a second, but it worked. A low wall of fire danced merrily on the ground where he cast the flames, only a little more than a foot high. It barely put off any heat that he could feel from where he stood, and showed no signs of going out.


    Taking a few steps over, he did it again, curving the line a little bit to start forming a ring around the camp. If any other demons wanted to visit their camp tonight, they would at least get burned for their trouble. Not to mention the light, though relatively dim, would help with spotting intruders before they could strike.


    When he cast the spell for the third time, the others started to notice.


    ¡°Hey, are you trying to set the fields on fire?¡± one of the injured fighters called. ¡°Put that out!¡±


    ¡°Do you see any fire spreading?¡± Bernt called back, annoyed at the interruption. ¡°It¡¯s perfectly safe.¡±


    Another one of the adventurers that had been sitting with the man jogged over to examine the fire. She made a confused noise when she realized that some of the flames cut directly through clumps of tinder-dry grass without burning them. Bernt watched her poke a boot at it, followed by a finger.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°It¡¯s not even hot!¡± she exclaimed in surprise.


    That wasn¡¯t quite true, Bernt knew, but it wasn¡¯t anything like natural fire. Bernt smiled at her, doing his best not to look smug.


    ¡°Try telling that to the demons.¡±


    ***


    Tallash narrowed his eyes against the otherworldly glare emanating from the mortals¡¯ camp. The Conqueror¡¯s eye was closing as the god¡¯s attention waned ¨C finally. Soon, they would be able to strike again. Kill a few sentries, whittle down their numbers. By morning, there would be too few left to resist. Even a god¡¯s protection wouldn¡¯t save a mortal priest forever. They were born to die, while Tallash and his thralls could come back again and again.


    Not that it would come to that. He didn''t have time to do this slowly. His missing thralls, much to his surprise, hadn''t been killed or poached by a rival. No, they''d been captured by the imp ¨C the very same one whose mortal he was here to kill. That was good. He would wipe out these mortals tonight and return to the hells in time to capture the rebel imp for Nuros.


    Shivering in anticipation, Tallash reflected on his sheer luck. He''d only been granted this task because he''d discovered that his thralls were the imps'' cousins. Once he''d learned the truth, he''d shared it with his mistress, who spoke to Nuros. He had expected to find Dzhorianath alongside the warlock, but this was just as well. She''d delivered herself to him.


    A new light flared up, a slash of bright, unnatural white that burned Tallash¡¯s eyes before diminishingnto a soft silver flicker. He hissed softly and raised a hand against the glare as the mortal cast the spell again, then once more. There was a short interruption, then more fire. The flames were forming a ring around the camp.


    He recognized this type of fire from the battle at Halfbridge. Their mages had used it to burn demons, even those from the third hell. It took him another minute to realize that the ring wasn''t fading. It just kept burning, undiminished. Was the mage sustaining the spell? No¡­ he was sitting down, now. Not casting.


    This was going to be a problem.


    They had two tasks to accomplish here, and neither would be possible like this. Their mortal pactors demanded that this group be stopped and killed ¨C the sooner the better. Meanwhile, their masters¡¯ master, Nuros, thirsted for the blood of their warlock. The one whose thrall had destroyed his mortal vessel.


    Aelos had seen the target with this group earlier, but he hadn''t seen fit to point him out specifically to his peers. The arrogant shade had been destroyed in the skirmish earlier. The denizens of the fifth hell always thought too much of themselves, and he¡¯d paid the price. He wouldn¡¯t be reborn from the shadows for days yet.


    All the better. He wouldn¡¯t share in the reward. They couldn''t know which of the casters the warlock was ¨C not unless he began throwing hellfire around. But it didn''t matter, in the end. There would be no survivors.


    Next to him, a hag crouched, claws digging into the soil. She¡¯d seen the same thing he had, and understood the problem. Like him, Roaznis was a servant of Zijeregh, and therefore supposedly an equal. One day, he would devour the strength of her existence along with her flesh.


    ¡°Our thralls will be destroyed in the flames,¡± she rasped. ¡°They are too weak. And you and I are too few. Zijeregh will not be pleased. She will be forced to act personally, and she will etch her humiliation into our teeth.¡±


    Tallash clenched his teeth and glared at the mewling coward, hissing softly. He wouldn''t be stopped by mere fire ¨C he, who ate the burning flesh of demons. He bathed in hellfire rivers!


    ¡°If you had properly paralyzed the mortals when you were supposed to," he growled, "we would not be having this conversation.¡±


    ¡°I did not expect to be interrupted by an ogre!¡± she replied angrily. ¡°By the time I chased it off, your thralls were scattering.¡±


    ¡°You didn''t kill it?!¡±


    The hag scoffed, not bothering to reply. Tallash didn''t push the point ¨C why argue with a rival who had just admitted weakness?


    "We will not be stopped by a simple wall of flame,¡± he replied, returning to the matter at hand. ¡°They will not be able to carry it with them when they move.¡±


    Roaznis looked as if she wanted to argue, but a look from Tallash silenced her. She knew which of them was greater.


    ***


    Bernt wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d expected from the demons, but giving up wasn¡¯t it. Only half of the adventurers were still in fighting shape after a single ambush, though all of the legitimators and invigilators had come away practically unscathed. No one wanted to think about what might happen if the demons caught them unawares again.


    Bernt¡¯s lopsided ring of cold fire had raised a few questions in the camp, but no one had complained once he¡¯d explained himself. He wasn¡¯t sure if it would be enough to kill any demons outright, but it would serve as a deterrent, at least. Nobody liked to be burned. He could have intensified the flames, of course, but he didn¡¯t dare. If he miscalculated, the spell might exhaust the ambient mana more quickly than it could replenish itself. Then, the fire might go out in some areas while he was asleep, leaving gaps.


    Not that anyone could sleep. The camp had stayed awake through the night, some due to traumatic injuries and most out of simple paranoia. The sense of exhausted relief that shivered through the camp when the sun rose without another attack was palpable.


    Moving slowly and deliberately, they packed up their belongings, loaded the one-legged ranger into a cart, and set off. Bernt kept the fire burning until the last moment, extinguishing the circle only when they started to move.


    The horses, like the people, were exhausted after the stressful night, and progress was slower than the previous day. Nobody felt like talking, and their small column made its way down the road in near silence. Even Nirlig kept his head down.


    After an hour, it started to rain ¨C a cold, unwelcome drizzle blown directly into their faces by a steady southern wind, obscuring their sight and making every bit of exposed skin go numb. Only Uriah was unaffected. Water seemed to bounce right off of the hydromancer. The smug bastard.


    Bernt resolved to work on his control over water, if only to keep himself dry in the future. Or, maybe he could adapt a pyromancy spell. Rain couldn¡¯t reach him if he vaporized it before it struck, right? But that would require a mobile fire shield, which was something he''d never heard of. Barrier spells of all kinds had to have a clearly defined and stable location to be effective, otherwise an opposing spell or force could move or disperse it like any other spell.


    The hot steam might be a problem for people near him, too.


    Bernt felt, rather than heard the attack start. Something was¡­ wrong. He whirled, peering into the bushes and seeing nothing.


    Something chittered, then a twig broke. There were hisses, shouts. Bernt raised a numb right hand and began casting banefire, even as the adventurers drew weapons. A chimeric, skinless wolf creature dragged itself out of the bushes. Its upper body glistened revoltingly with some kind of slime before transitioning to scales and the tail of a serpent near the middle.


    Before he could release the spell, Nirlig lunged forward and pinned the thing with his spear, keeping his distance as best he could. No hellfire spat forth from the wound, and the creature recoiled in pain. Probably not from the third hell, then.


    Shapes leapt out, intercepted by adventurers ¨C too close for Bernt to strike with fire. Eyes finally adjusting to the gloomy undergrowth, Bernt spotted a tall humanoid creature, nearly bent double as though it had a hump. Its hair was gray and ragged and hung down nearly to the ground. As he watched, it spread its too-long arms wide, raised a remarkably hideous face to the sky and screamed.


    Bernt activated the spell, flinching back in anticipation of what would come next.


    The peal of a bell drowned out all sound, resonating with something deep inside Bernt and overpowering the hag¡¯s sorcery before it could begin to take effect. Adventurers hacked, stabbed and kicked at the attackers, pushing them back. Out of the corner of his eye, Bernt watched a gray-haired man leap into the bushes. Bloody light seemed to emanate from the air around him.


    This time, the demons hadn¡¯t caught them napping.

 3.27 A True Death

    Bernt¡¯s banefire spell clipped the hag¡¯s flank as she tried to dodge. She shrieked in pain and again the sound didn¡¯t reach Bernt¡¯s ears. Someone was protecting them from the creature¡¯s withering screams. It fell to the ground and writhed in agony as the spell devoured its flesh.


    Two imps burst from the trees, hissing as they dove down at the adventurers. Bernt caught one with a handful of manaburn as Nirlig tried to sweep the other out of the air. The burning imp crashed to the ground, flailing in panic. The goblin missed his target and the second imp hissed angrily, making a familiar throwing motion as it landed. A sticky gobbet of hellfire shot from its hand, but Torvald intercepted the projectile with the flat of his blade, slashing back up and taking one of the imp¡¯s arms off in the same motion. The weapon came out glowing hot.


    Bernt''s own target was flailing on the ground, still trying to put itself out, even though it didn''t actually appear to be burning. It was just a spawnling, but imps were resistant to fire ¨C it wasn''t hot enough. Bernt finished it off with a bolt of banefire, wincing as he released the spell. He couldn''t help but see Jori in the little demon. It felt... wrong to kill it. Cruel.


    A strangled cry broke Bernt out of the moment. He whirled to find Nirlig on his back, a monstrous creature pinning him down, held back only by the shaft of the goblin¡¯s spear. The thing¡¯s arms and legs were much too long and thin and its head was misshapen, with a sort of muzzle and long, sharp teeth that protruded out as it tried to bite at Nirlig¡¯s face.


    It was larger and leaner, and this one only had two arms, but Bernt still recognized the weird slimy skin, creepy teeth and lidless eyes. This was a demon like the one that Jori had caught and killed in the sewers under the alchemist''s lab months ago¡ªa fiend.


    He began casting banefire again, but Uriah, who had likely been preparing for his moment this entire time, was faster. A loose grayish ball of fire shot out from the hydromancer''s outstretched hand directly into the thing¡¯s monstrous face.


    It screeched in pain and reeled back, skin blackening and cracking in the unnatural flame, but it didn¡¯t die as it should have. As Nirlig scrambled back, the thing lunged forward, swiping one of its too-long arms at Uriah. He backed up and swung his staff at the thing like a club, maintaining as much distance as he could. The fiend blocked the heavy hardwood easily, taking the blow on one of its arms with a crack. Then Bernt¡¯s own banefire spell was ready.


    The pyromancer¡¯s much more cohesive spell struck the monster in what passed for its ribs, eliciting a pained screech. It staggered back, wheezing, then it caught itself and growled. Its blackened ribs were exposed to daylight, and Bernt could see hideously damaged organs underneath, yet it still didn¡¯t die. It lunged once more, only to find Torvald standing in the way, sword extended. It hesitated for a moment, and the paladin struck, only to find empty air where his enemy had been.


    ¡°Wait!¡± bellowed an authoritative voice. It was Hannis. The high priest had come out of the bushes behind the monster and yanked it back, saving it from Torvald¡¯s killing stroke. ¡°I''d like to have a talk with this one before we send it on its way.¡±


    Bernt blinked and looked around. Demon corpses lay scattered in the road and the bushes, where adventurers had taken them down. Despite how intense the fight had felt, nobody on their side was down. They¡¯d beaten the ambush back easily. Nirlig had a few scratches, and there were scorch marks on Torvald¡¯s armor, but they were fine.


    ¡°We¡¯re lucky we didn¡¯t get hit by that hag¡¯s screams,¡± Bernt realized out loud. ¡°We would have been defenseless.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Elyn said a little breathlessly. She was standing at the back, eyes wide and clutching some kind of metal fork. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that actually worked!¡±


    ¡°That was you?¡± Bernt stared, mind working. ¡°How did you know to try it?¡±


    ¡°Jori told me about how different kinds of demons fight. She was always hanging around that warlock girl at work. Hags use aural magic, just like bards. You can disrupt it, if you know what you¡¯re doing.¡± She held up the metal thing, and gave a weak smile. ¡°Special tuning fork. Works against other bards, too.¡±


    Bernt heard cursing and looked back toward the demon in time to see Captain Emata emerge from the bushes, berating the high priest of Noruk for running off into the undergrowth without backup.


    ¡°Never, ever break ranks to run into a concealed position! Are you trying to get killed? There could have been anything in those bushes! If you think I¡¯m coming in after you every time¡ª¡±


    Then fiend squirmed and hissed, earning a lightning-fast punch to the face from Hannis. It continued to struggle, apparently unimpressed by the old man¡¯s strength. Captain Emata stepped in behind it and whipped the pommel of her sword into the base of its neck, never interrupting her tirade. The demon dropped to the ground again.


    ¡°¡ªyou are sorely mistaken. You think your god is going to save you from a tactical error like that every time? You''re practically begging to¡ª"


    Hannis raised a hand, cutting her off.


    ¡°Enough! I will not fight standing in a line and cowering behind a shield like a common infantryman.¡± He glared down his nose at the younger woman. ¡°I am not one of your recruits, Captain, nor am I bound to military discipline like the paladins of our order. I will fight as it pleases Noruk.¡±


    Emata glowered, but she didn¡¯t argue as she sheathed her sword. Seeing that the danger was past, others gathered to see what the commotion was about. Surin, meanwhile, was treating the few injuries that had been sustained.


    Before anyone could react, the demon gathered its legs underneath it and launched itself at the high priest of Noruk, its too-long arms extended. There was a crack and a loud squeal, followed by a flash of light. Hannis had moved faster than the eye could follow, ducking underneath the demon¡¯s grasp and catching one of the fiend¡¯s limbs as he did. The limb in question was now twisted behind the thing¡¯s back at an unnatural angle, clearly broken.


    ¡°Where are the Duergar?¡± Hannis asked, giving the broken limb a little twist for emphasis. The fiend gave a breathless cry.


    ¡°Agh! I can¡¯t ¨C ¡±


    Hannis twisted it a little more, making an unpleasant popping noise. The thing jerked violently, then shuddered and hissed.


    ¡°I¡­ can¡­ not¡­¡±


    ¡°Who is your master? What¡¯s his name?¡± Hannis asked impatiently, apparently accepting that the demon couldn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°I serve Zijeregh," it hissed, "devourer of will and servant of Nuros, chosen of Varamemnon. ¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s something, I guess, but immaterial. Who are your Duergar masters?¡±


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°I have no mortal mas ¨C Agh!¡± Hannis twisted contemptuously to cut the creature off.


    ¡°Let¡¯s try it again. Who summoned you?¡±


    ¡°I am bound by pact! I cannot say!¡± the demon gasped.


    ¡°What good are you, then? Tell me what you can. When you were summoned? Were you underground or on the surface? ¡±


    ¡°Underground. We came up as the sun set. Last night!¡±


    ¡°Finally,¡± Hannis grumbled, slamming an open hand down on the back of the fiend¡¯s burnt head, ¡°something at least.¡±


    Light flared, and the demon collapsed on the ground bonelessly. Ignoring the corpse, the priest turned to the assembled group.


    ¡°The Duergar are following us, probably from below, and sending demons up to harass us. Unless we want to get hit again, we should hurry to reach Lochholme before they have a chance to resummon their little squad of assassins.¡± Hannis kicked at the dead demon. ¡°Or before this one tries to get its superiors involved.¡±


    ***


    Jori took a running leap over the cliff edge, spreading her wings as she did. It wasn¡¯t a very tall cliff, but you had to get your fun where you could. This place was empty, even for the hells ¨C she hadn¡¯t seen another demon in days. Not a lot of souls here. It was a desert, even by demon standards.


    What had Tallash done to get such a crummy foraging assignment?


    Then again, he was a fiend who ate the only demons he could bully into his service. He had probably never been destined for greatness. It wasn¡¯t just that he was a monster, no. He was stupid, too. And he was going to die. Soon.


    Jori shivered in anticipation as she circled around, aiming for the cave-entrance that Ed had made at the base of the low cliff. Pulling her wings in just in time, she shot through the doorway and landed at a run, taking a few steps to slow down.


    ¡°Dzhorianath, you¡¯re back!¡± Maladzhoth called out, obviously relieved. ¡°I thought we were going to be stuck in here until I could melt through the wall.¡±


    Sure enough, two of the thick stone columns that made up the cell were glassy and pitted near the bottom, though they didn¡¯t really look any thinner. It would probably take days to get through ¨C maybe longer. It made Jori wonder what Ed had done to the stone. She could melt normal stones in seconds.


    Two more imps huddled in the cell, both of them chittering softly in the natural language of demons ¨C wondering where the great one had gone to and asking each other if they had any food. They weren¡¯t very smart, yet.


    ¡°Stop that!¡± Jori snapped. ¡°We will be back soon. If you damage the cell, I¡¯m not going to give you any food. I¡¯ll make you eat bugs and give everyone else the real food.¡±


    She¡¯d been sharing some of her jerky with the prisoners, trying to show them what the world had to offer if you gave it a chance. Imps didn¡¯t need much to sustain themselves ¨C she ate mostly for pleasure ¨C but it was important to show her cousins what they were missing. She didn''t really know what she was doing, but Bernt had started with feeding her, and she''d turned out great!


    Maladzhoth, appropriately chastised, sat back in the cell.


    ¡°What are you doing out there? Where is the Great Mage?¡±


    ¡°None of your business! Tell me why you disappeared. Who summoned you?¡±


    Maladzhoth grimaced uncomfortably. ¡°It¡¯s a secret. I can¡¯t tell.¡±


    Jori scoffed. ¡°I know it was the Duergar. Who were you fighting? What was the mission?¡±


    The other imp shrugged. ¡°Attack mortals sleeping in the night. We got some, but the others fought back, and one of them got me.¡± Maladzhoth rubbed at his chest. ¡°He had a big stick. It hurt.¡±


    Jori snorted derisively and shook her head. He¡¯d been killed by a guy with a stick? How embarrassing! ¡°Was Tallash there?¡±


    ¡°Hiding in the back, I''m sure¡± he hissed, scowling. ¡°There were others, too. A strong shade and a hag with their thralls. They got many of us.¡±


    Thralls. Jori hated that word. It was a term demons only used for their lowest servants. Those who were too weak to do anything but serve, to weak to pursue their own interests. They were fodder for the great ones¡¯ armies, and literal food for the fiends.


    ¡°Where are the others? Do you think they lost?¡±


    ¡°There was a priest at the end. He called down terror from the sky. A red eye, burning bright. It was watching us¡­¡± Maladzhoth subsided with a shiver.


    Jori turned and left. Whatever the other imp was talking about, Tallash would be back soon, she was sure. She needed to hurry. When he arrived, they had to be ready.


    ***


    Tallash felt something pop as he snapped back to consciousness, like a drop of rain striking the river of flames. There was a familiar sense of falling, followed by a nauseating spinning sensation and heat. So much heat.


    Then the pain receded and he opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground, the stones all around him scorched and slightly melted with the hellfire in which he¡¯d been reborn. Humiliation burned in the fiend¡¯s heart. Those arrogant mortals! They had burned him. Him! With some kind of unnatural fire. How could such a thing exist?


    And he¡¯d been killed. By an unarmed, old mortal human. He¡¯d been made a fool of. Now, he would have to wait for the Duergar to summon him again and hope that they didn¡¯t report his failure to Zijeregh.


    This had to be Roaznis¡¯ fault. The filthy hag hadn¡¯t paralyzed the mortals as she¡¯d promised. She¡¯d failed in the first ambush as well. Was she working with the enemy, somehow? It shouldn¡¯t be possible. She had to be bound by pact to the Duergar at least, just as he was! He would have to report his suspicion to Zijeregh. If she wasn¡¯t a traitor, her incompetence should see her destroyed all the same.


    A suffocating weight suddenly pressed down on him, crushing him to the ground. Tallash gasped, eyes rolling. What was that?


    There was motion, then claws raked at his belly. They didn¡¯t break his thick skin, but it still hurt. A hairy, gray bearded face loomed over him. It was hideous. It was the mortal and the traitor imp! How had they found him so quickly?!


    Hellfire blocked his vision as the imp flung a gobbet directly into his face. It didn¡¯t do anything, of course. The stupid imp¡¯s hellfire could never touch him. He could swim in the rivers of this world! Tallash writhed against the weight, feeling for the edges of the strange spell.


    There! He could move his left hand. The weight wasn¡¯t solid ¨C more like an impossibly heavy blanket laid on top of him. If he could just pull himself out from under it¡­ The imp kept throwing fire, and Tallash dug his claws into the ground and pulled. He felt himself move, the rocks underneath him scraping uncomfortably against his back.


    ¡°Are you done?¡± The mortal asked, sounding exasperated.


    The insolent creature kicked him in the ribs with a hiss and disappeared from view.


    ¡°Now I¡¯m done.¡±


    ¡°Do not turn your back on me, meat!¡± Tallash growled through clenched teeth. He needed to buy time. ¡°I will strip the flesh from your pactor¡¯s bones and bind you into my service. Nuros will reward me with a city, and Varamemnon will know my name!¡±


    He scrabbled for purchase, finding solid rock and hauled again. He was going to make it. The mortal was still distracted, not looking. Pulling as hard as he could, Tallash got an elbow free and began to twist himself free.


    ¡°Slippery bastard, aren¡¯t you?¡± the mortal said, and the weight came crashing down again with a vengeance. Tallash groaned with frustration and impotent rage. This couldn¡¯t be happening. Not again. Not here.


    The mortal¡¯s eyes met his and they were cold and blank. There was no rage, no hunger, and no glee there. Then he narrowed his eyes in concentration, and raised one hand. Tallash heard a soft snap and everything went red before fading to black.

 3.28 Emancipation

    ¡°Well, thank the gods that¡¯s over.¡± Ed said with feeling, turning away from the corpse. He¡¯d started to feel like he¡¯d be stuck in this hellhole forever, sitting in a cave with nobody but imps for company. All things considered, it could have been worse, but that wasn¡¯t saying much.


    Jori scuttled off over the rocks, back toward the cave. ¡°Come on! We have to check on the others.¡±


    By the time he got back, the cell was packed with imps, several of them singed a bit by the fiery arrival of those who came later. Jori was standing in front of the cell, telling the story of Tallash¡¯s demise with some obvious exaggerations. The imps chattered excitedly as he entered, a few even mustering a cheer.


    ¡°He¡¯s dead?!¡±


    ¡°Is it true?¡±


    ¡°What are they going to do?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re lying!¡±


    "Shut up, they haven''t even said anything yet!"


    ¡°Quiet!¡± Ed bawled, and the noise level dropped to a more manageable level. ¡°Tallash is dead. You can go look at his body if it makes you happy. Anybody who tries to take a poke at me or Jori there is going to get turned into jelly. Do we all understand each other?¡±


    A chorus of affirmatives and a few whimpers of ¡°great one¡± sounded from the cell. Ed looked to Jori for confirmation. It was her show, technically. She nodded, but then held up a hand to stop him.


    ¡°You are free now.¡± she began, clearly unsure of what to say. ¡°Free of obligation."


    The imps stopped chattering, suddenly paying rapt attention.


    ¡°The Duergar will summon you again, probably, but nothing is binding you to them. You can tell them no! All they can do is send you back. You can let the mortals bind you into service for their scraps, if you like. You can try to make your own way here, if you want, until the next powerful demon takes you or the fiends snatch you. You can try to survive alone, or you can help the great ones fight over barren foraging grounds as they always have.¡± Jori spat on the ground to illustrate what she thought of these conventional options. ¡°Or, we can work together. We can visit the mortal planes without serving as fodder in a stupid war, and enjoy all the nice things there! Tasty food, interesting things to see, and friends. Mortal friends! We can forage for ourselves, and help the spawnlings grow. Souls are sparse here, but so are those who can threaten us. I''m not asking you to submit ¨C I¡¯m asking you to choose.¡±


    The imp nodded to herself, then at Ed. Then, she whirled and held up her little bag. ¡°Oh, and I have food! No bugs for our pack.¡±


    It was a pretty good speech, Ed thought. For an imp, anyway. He sketched a couple of runes into the air, opening the enclosure. He held a shield spell prepared, just in case one tried to fling a fistful of hellfire into his face, but nothing happened. They spilled forth, milling around the cave. A few darted out the door, probably unwilling to trust Jori¡¯s good intentions, but something like fifteen of them stayed put. It was hard to count them, running around like that.


    ¡°Jori, when¡¯s your next appointment with the Solicitors?¡± he called over the chatter. ¡°I believe I¡¯ve fulfilled the conditions of our little agreement.¡±


    The imp grinned up at him. ¡°You did! It should be in a few hours ¨C it¡¯s hard to tell time exactly here, but I¡¯ll get you home.¡±


    Ed sat down in his usual spot and pulled out his pipe and his bag of tobacco, letting the familiar motions calm him. He hadn''t wanted to admit it, even to himself, but he''d been worried that Jori would try to rope him into another scheme. She had a lot of leverage right now. When he looked up, smoke beginning to curl up from the bowl, Jori was standing directly in front of him, watching him with clear apprehension.


    ¡°You¡¯ll let me keep my job, right? On the payroll? It¡¯s not my fault I can¡¯t show up. The Solicitors are illegally interfering with my duties, alright?¡±


    Ed chuckled. ¡°Relax, I won¡¯t ruin Josie¡¯s case. Besides, that would be illegal termination. I signed the damned contract, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    ***


    The wrenching sensation lasted only for a second, then the stink of sulfur and dirty water was replaced by herbal smoke. Sage, lavender¡­ something citrus? Did they actually need that, or was it just to improve the atmosphere?


    Letting go of her passenger, Jori shook out her hand. Nobody had warned her that she would have to hold Ed¡¯s entire weight with her claws during the transition. She¡¯d barely managed to snatch him as she felt the summoning take hold of her, and her grip hadn¡¯t been that great.


    A middle-aged woman was doing the summoning today, with the assistance of Finn, the youngest of the Solicitors. Jori didn¡¯t know her name, but she supposed it didn¡¯t matter. The warlock took a step back in surprise, eyes wide. Then she smiled.


    ¡°Archmage, welcome back!¡±


    ¡°Phelia. Glad to see the place is still standing.¡± Ed took a deep breath and let out a sigh. ¡°Where¡¯s Radast?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s in a meeting with the new Halfbridge General Labor Union right now, but you can wait for him if you like. He should be back soon.¡±


    Ed frowned. ¡°The what?¡±


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    Phelia sighed. ¡°It''s a whole mess. Wages for unskilled laborers have collapsed with all the refugees coming in. Everybody needs to find a way to make ends meet, and some of the guilds are taking advantage by undercutting wages for everyone who isn¡¯t protected by their charters.¡±


    ¡°The refugees¡­ from Loamfurth?¡± Ed asked mildly as he stepped out of the summoning circle.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I just wanted to be sure. I''m still catching up to current events.¡±


    Phelia furrowed her brow in confusion, but dropped the issue. ¡°It¡¯s nothing for you to worry about, I¡¯m sure. You can use our waiting room, or you¡¯re welcome to come back another time. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re eager to get some fresh air.¡±


    Ed chuckled mirthlessly. ¡°You have no idea.¡±


    The Solicitor turned to Jori.


    ¡°Dzhorianath, I believe that concludes our business for the time being. Thank you for your cooperation in this matter. We will summon you again when and if Solicitor Josie¡¯s case necessitates it. Good day.¡±


    ¡°Hey, wait a minute!¡± Jori interrupted as the woman moved to banish her again. ¡°What about the supplies?¡±


    She stopped and raised her eyebrows. ¡°What? The archmage has been returned ¨C I believe that means that portion of the agreement has been fulfilled.¡±


    ¡°Oh, just give her the damned bag. Don¡¯t be an ass.¡± Ed grabbed the bundle on the floor and tossed it to her. Jori caught it and held it protectively. They¡¯d tried to shortchange her with a technicality! ¡°Do you have any idea what a shithole that place is?¡± Ed growled at the woman, who looked back and forth between the two of them uncertainly. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving one of my people in there without so much as a godsdamned snack.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± the warlock sighed, nicking her finger with a small pen knife and bending down to touch the summoning circle. ¡°But you get to explain it to the boss if he says anything.¡±


    Ed scoffed. ¡°I¡¯ve got a few things to say to him myself.¡±


    Then Jori was falling down and back through nothing. It was an uncomfortable sensation, though at least it was quick. The familiar sulfurous odor of the hells filled her nose even before she could see again.


    The cave was empty now ¨C all the imps had been sent out to forage. Those who had remained looked to her for leadership, or at least some kind of guidance on what to do next. They needed to work together. On Ed¡¯s recommendation, Jori had split them into three groups, each led by one of the bigger imps: Maladzhoth, Xoriath and Serionoth. They would find errant souls and teach the spawnlings to feed ¨C something they would have been forbidden to do without Tallash¡¯s explicit permission before. Assuming she could get them to control their own appetites, of course.


    Only those who performed some special service would have been allowed to grow under the normal hierarchy. Jori didn¡¯t ask what those three had done to impress Tallash. This was just how it was in the hells.


    Until now.


    ***


    The expedition emerged from the shadow of the trees onto open fields, sloping gently down toward the biggest lake Bernt had ever seen. Lake Sul was the largest body of water in the entire country, and he could barely make out the hazy shapes of mountains on the far side, leagues in the distance.


    Much closer, a city lay wedged between the lake and the river that fed it ¨C Lochholme. They¡¯d reached the Sul river the day before and more or less followed it here. At Hannis¡¯ urging, they¡¯d traveled quickly, eating on the go and making camp late. The Duergar would have to stop to resummon the demons, and they most likely wouldn''t be able to follow them from below in a straight line. The trek was exhausting, cold and miserable. Still, Bernt ringed the camp with cold fire each night, and on the second night, Leirin began sowing some kinds of pointy, star-shaped seeds outside the ring to add another layer of defense. But they hadn¡¯t been attacked again and now, three days later, here they were.


    They reached the gates before dusk, where a guard gave them directions to an inn. They headed toward it, getting a feel for the place as they did. It was, at a glance, a beautiful city with imposing architecture, grand monuments and straight, level streets that spoke of obvious city planning. Despite that, though, it was clear that Lochholme had seen better days. The steady but modest trickle of traffic looked anemic on the broad, well-worn streets. More than a few of the outwardly beautiful buildings stood obviously abandoned with doors and windows left gaping open.


    Despite that, people here moved with purpose, their heads held high. The inn was an expensive looking place, and Bernt saw the avaricious glint in the innkeeper¡¯s eye as he took in the priests¡¯ carriage. Torvald was probably saving himself quite a bit of money by walking with the guards instead of sitting in there with the priests. He, along with most of the adventurers, bought beds in shared rooms ¨C the cheapest available at a silver mark per night. In a place like this, even those would be clean and comfortable. The priests, Leirin, and Regin were accustomed to better accommodations, though, and they opted for their own rooms.


    They¡¯d made good time, and would be staying a few days to recover and plan for the rest of the trip. Now that they knew they were being tracked, they would need to prepare for future demon attacks. A few adventurers with debilitating burn scarring would need to be put on a boat to Teres for treatment. The ranger whose leg had nearly been burned off would be going with them as well in hopes of getting help from the Artificer¡¯s Guild there. He was going to lose the limb, no matter what, and they might be able to produce a suitable prosthetic ¨C otherwise his adventuring days were over.


    Bernt¡¯s group went to find something to eat, sampling the offerings of the local street vendors. The city was more cosmopolitan than Halfbridge, despite its smaller size. There were large numbers of dwarves and gnomes, and far more goblins than back home. Vendors hawked a broad variety of fish dishes, many of which were garnished or cooked with various kinds of fruits, despite the season. The local delicacy, a particular lake fish called a ¡°garron¡±, was baked with candied peaches in large clay ovens that were set into some street corners and sold to passersby in lopsided, single-use clay bowls. Nirlig had to try it, of course.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound like it should work ¨C it shouldn¡¯t work. But you have to try this!¡± he gushed, holding the bowl out to Torvald, who gave it a skeptical look. ¡°The juice caramelizes on the salted fish and the flavor is just incredible. Try it!¡±


    Elyn leaned in and sniffed at it, then looked contemplatively at the vendor before going to get her own bowl. Bernt had opted for some pickled fish on a bun, sold by a surly looking human woman ¨C you couldn¡¯t go wrong with something simple, and he was too hungry to be adventurous tonight. Maybe tomorrow.


    As Elyn returned, he caught sight of a small sign and cleared his throat.


    ¡°Listen, guys. I need to drop by the Mages¡¯ Guild to send news back home. And I want to get a look at their library as soon as possible ¨C they might have more information on sorcery.¡± He glanced over at Uriah, meeting his eyes. ¡°You should come along, actually. If we can find the right information, we might be able to do something about your¡­ condition.¡±


    Uriah looked away and then coughed in embarrassment. ¡°I¡­ ah.. I can¡¯t. I¡¯m not a guild member.¡±


    Bernt blinked. ¡°You¡¯re not?¡±


    ¡°No. Membership isn¡¯t required to be an Underkeeper. And the guild can¡¯t help me, regardless," he added defensively. "It would have been an enormous waste of gold.¡±


    ¡°Right. Well, you should come, anyway,¡± Bernt insisted. ¡°We can ask them where you can go to get that staff fixed. If you want it done in time, it¡¯s best to get started on that as soon as possible.¡±

 3.29 Whisperer

    The guild was a beautiful structure that, like much of the city, dated back to imperial times, with high ceilings, carved marble columns and a general sense of gravitas that Halfbridge lacked. While it was clean and mages moved about their business as they did back home, entire wings of the massive complex were roped off and mothballed, including its defunct research department.


    Leaving Uriah at the front desk to ask the receptionist about reliable enchanters, Bernt followed the signs to his destination. Lochholme¡¯s library was, simply put, a crushing disappointment. The massive room was half-empty and stocked primarily with basic elemental texts. There was quite a bit available on pyromancy, but it was nothing Bernt didn¡¯t have access to back home. When Bernt asked the librarian for information on summoning, planar theory, and sorcery, she¡¯d just shrugged.


    ¡°All the interesting stuff got transferred to Teres years ago. The guildmaster at the time had some kind of feud with the Archwizard in charge of the research wing here and dissolved the whole department. They gutted the library as an afterthought. We¡¯ve been trying to rebuild for decades, but mostly we can just get copies of what everyone else already has.¡±


    Bernt left almost immediately, disappointed. Uriah was gone by the time he got back, so he¡¯d probably found somewhere to get his staff repaired.


    For the first time in well over a week, Bernt was alone, safe, and with time on his hands. He stopped a passing mage with a wave.


    ¡°Hey, is there someplace here to practice spells in private?¡±


    ***


    The sensation was as disorienting as ever, but Bernt knew what to expect by now. One moment, he was sitting next to his carefully chalked portal circle, the next he was watching a pack of imps devour what looked like small, slightly charred pancakes. What?


    ¡°Bernt!¡± Jori said out loud, pushing back against his consciousness even as he did the same to her. It was something they¡¯d worked out back in Halfbridge. Mentally closing themselves off a bit helped to muffle some of the more disorienting aspects of their link. Talking out loud was a good way to focus their thoughts and communicate clearly.


    ¡°Are you teaching a cooking class?¡± Bernt asked, only half-joking. One of the imps had set their pancake on fire.


    ¡°I¡¯m teaching them about real food.¡± Jori corrected, lightly smacking the offending imp in the back of the head. ¡°Don¡¯t burn it, it¡¯s going to taste like sulfur and ash!¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Ed? I can¡¯t believe he agreed to this.¡± Bernt laughed.


    ¡°Ed is gone ¨C I took him home. We killed Tallash!¡± Jori said, pride radiating in her chest. It wasn¡¯t just pride, though. Anxiety twisted in her belly.


    ¡°Are you alright? What happened?¡±


    ¡°The Duergar summoned him a few days ago. Him and the imps. We found the spot where he was summoned from, and set a trap for him. When he returned, Ed smushed him.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great! So¡­ what¡¯s the problem? The other imps are free, right? Are you going to keep them?¡±


    Jori moved away from the other imps. Some of them looked at her curiously, but she waved them down and ducked out of the cave.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t hurt him. Not with my fire, or my claws.¡± Jori admitted quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t think he was much more powerful than I am, maybe class 3. But fiends are built to kill us. How can I protect the pack from more of them?¡±


    Bernt frowned. ¡°Maybe you need weapons. Most humans can¡¯t fight well without them. If your natural tools aren¡¯t good enough, you should use something else.¡±


    Jori looked down at herself and Bernt saw that she was wearing her robes. They were a bit frayed, now, but she was probably still one of the best-dressed demons in the hells. Most simply didn¡¯t wear clothes or use tools. There was no good reason for that, that Bernt had ever understood. Jori agreed.


    ¡°What kind of weapon would hurt a fiend, though? A knife wouldn¡¯t be sharper than my claws.¡±


    Bernt thought for a moment. ¡°You could try a poison of some kind, or some kind of blunt weapon. Their skin is tough, but you might still be able to break their bones. They might also be vulnerable in some areas, like the eyes. There are a lot of things you can try. You can even try them all at once, now that you have all these other imps to help.¡±


    Jori nodded to herself, and he could feel the wheels turning in her head.


    ¡°Demons don¡¯t seem to use weapons very much.¡± Bernt went on. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s just culture, or something more fundamental, but fighting and war is about creativity. That¡¯s what Therion was trying to teach me with our sparring lessons. Do you remember? None of the demons that attacked us on the road used anything besides their own bodies to fight. As far as I can tell, there wasn¡¯t even any kind of structure to their ambush when they came for us on the road. What...what is it?¡±


    Icy shock shot through Jori and Bernt lost all sense of direction as she whirled around and scuttled back into the cave, shock quickly transforming into red hot rage.


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    ¡°You attacked my mortals?! My friends?¡± The imps shrank back, eyes wide. All except one, one that Bernt recognized. It was the same one that Uriah had killed with the staff during the first attack.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know which mortals they were, we just followed our orders,¡± he said calmly, though his eyes narrowed and his voice took on an edge as he went on. ¡°I told you we would ¨C Tallash still lived. Besides, it worked out fine for you. We were the ones who were crushed and burned. Barely any of them even died."


    Bernt felt Jori suppress the urge to attack him. His own feelings toward them were ambivalent. He still wasn¡¯t sure exactly how demons normally enforced their hierarchies, but he didn¡¯t imagine that they were gentle about it. He didn¡¯t trust them ¨C not around mortals ¨C but he didn¡¯t have to. They were in the hells. Besides, they were Jori¡¯s imps now.


    ¡°It''s fine. Just tell them to break any pacts they might have with the Duergar," he told her. "If they come sneaking into our camp again, I¡¯m going to make them regret it.¡±


    ***


    When Bernt returned to the inn, he expected the others to have already turned in for the night. The trip so far had been grueling, with sleepless nights and long hours of walking in uncomfortable conditions. So, he was surprised to find Torvald, Nirlig and Elyn sitting together at a table in front of the bar with a stout old man. He was dressed in an expensive-looking jacket and shiny black riding boots, both with enchantments so powerful that Bernt could sense them from across the room. His long beard was tied together with a heavy gold ring.


    Flagging down the barmaid, Bernt ordered a pint and joined them, pulling a chair over from another table. Torvald nodded in greeting and turned to the old man.


    ¡°Uncle Olias, this is Bernt, my legitimator. We thought we¡¯d be able to avoid¡­ this. My mother thought the king wouldn¡¯t want to step on Count Narald¡¯s toes.¡±


    ¡°Oh, he doesn¡¯t!¡± the older man laughed. ¡°Far be it from me to replace your lawfully appointed legitimator.¡± He winked at Bernt and took a drink from his cup. ¡°No, my brother just wants to make sure we have someone of sufficient rank present to observe the proceedings at the Peaks. Officially, anyway. And who could fault me for wanting to get to know my young grandnephew a bit on the way? Asra never visits, you know.¡±


    His brother? Bernt groaned inwardly. Torvald had thought that getting him appointed as his legitimator would protect him from interference from his family in Teres. Apparently he¡¯d been wrong.


    Nirlig coughed. ¡°But isn¡¯t that exactly what the legitimators are for?¡±


    Olias laughed congenially. ¡°No, no, my sharp-toothed friend! Legitimators are there to monitor the actions of individual representatives of the Invigilation on Beseri territory.¡± He pointed at Bernt. ¡°That one technically isn¡¯t even required to accompany my young nephew there all the way to the Peaks. He could just stay in Norhold and wait for it all to be over,¡± he leaned over toward Bernt and added in a loud, inebriated whisper, ¡°which is what I would be doing in your place, by the way. They grow a really excellent white wine there and the cheese!¡± He closed his eyes in rapture at the memory.


    Bernt shook his head in bewilderment. The king had sent this guy to pull Torvald into their family¡¯s political games?


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you''re Torvald''s... uncle?¡± Bernt asked.


    Torvald coughed in embarrassment. ¡°Ah, sorry. This is my great uncle Olias. Prince Olias, technically, and brother to the king.¡±


    ¡°Very technically,¡± Olias added. ¡°I was removed from the line of succession as soon as my brother came of age. Not that I mind. It¡¯s the most miserable job in the world ¨C I¡¯d rather be a shepherd in goblin territory than try to run a country.¡± He winked at Nirlig, who did not smile back.


    Elyn coughed awkwardly. ¡°So, any news from home? And where¡¯s Uriah?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t get a response until tomorrow at the earliest,¡± Bernt replied. ¡°They didn¡¯t have any messages waiting for us. Uriah went to get his staff repaired ¨C I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be back soon.¡±


    He¡¯d have to send a follow-up to let the archmage know about Olias. She likely wouldn¡¯t be too bothered ¨C the interests of the crown and the Mages¡¯ Guild were aligned, as far as Bernt understood them. Torvald was another matter, though. Whatever he and his mother had been trying to accomplish by getting Bernt appointed as his legitimator was moot, now.


    ***


    Uriah¡¯s eyes were focused on the pool of blood seeping out from under the door behind the counter. He¡¯d been staring at it since he came in, but he couldn¡¯t work out what was so important about it. The thought was just out of reach, close enough to touch, but too slippery to grasp. It was just so... red. The light of the crystal lamps on the wall above glinted off it, really bringing out the color.


    Something was murmuring words into his ear. Words he knew, but that he couldn¡¯t put together into sentences with meaning. What was going on?


    ¡°The high priest of Noruk tore through them like fire through dry leaves.¡± Uriah said, the words springing to his lips unbidden. He didn¡¯t even know what the question was, but that didn¡¯t mean he had no answer. ¡°The last one was tougher. The banefire didn¡¯t kill it. The priest had no trouble, though. Scary old bastard, but I suppose it makes sense. Why should the hells protect you from the power of a god?¡±


    The words felt right to say. They were true, even if they didn¡¯t mean anything to him right now.


    There was a hissing noise in his ear, then more words, rambling. Who was talking to him? Uriah furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the situation.


    ¡°Bernt has dealings with demons.¡± he whispered, answering unheard questions once more. ¡°He¡¯s a pyromancer. He¡¯s got an imp ¨C ¡±


    ¡°Hey, what is that?¡± a voice called from outside. There was a shout, then more voices. Uriah¡¯s mouth kept talking, but he couldn¡¯t hear what he said. The people outside were too loud. That meant something, right?


    ¡°Get the guards!¡±


    Something hit Uriah in the belly, then again in the back, twice more.


    It hurt. Why did it hurt like that? The floor was cool on his face.


    Uriah stared dazedly down at his belly. His robes were getting ruined. The blood was so, so red.

 3.30 The Price of Failure

    When the City Guard came to knock on their door in the morning before sunrise, Bernt feared the worst. Uriah¡¯s bed was still undisturbed, his small pack leaning against it exactly as he¡¯d left it. But Uriah came walking through the door a moment later, looking stiff and pale. His robes were covered in crusted blood. One of the guards behind him was holding his staff for him.


    ¡°What in the hells happened to you?¡± Nirlig asked, aghast.


    Uriah didn''t answer immediately, staring into the middle distance before his eyes suddenly focused on Nirlig as if just realizing that he''d spoken. ¡°A... uh... a demon, I think. Unless the Duergar have mind mages that can sneak into the city. I was attacked last night at the enchanter¡¯s shop. The enchanter¡¯s dead.¡± He paused, getting a faraway look in his eye. Then he was back. ¡°It was in my head, somehow. But somebody saw, and it... ran.¡±


    ¡°We took him to the Temple of Eyeli,¡± the guard explained from the door when Uriah trailed off. ¡°The thing stabbed him pretty good a couple times. Had to wait before they¡¯d see him and then we had to get all the details down and file a report. They summoned a scryer detective from the Mages¡¯ Guild out of bed ¨C it was a whole thing. She found evidence of mind magic that corroborates your friend¡¯s story, so we can release him now. The commander thought we''d better bring him over. He''s... well, you''ve got eyes. He should get some sleep. You shouldn¡¯t leave him alone. Not if something¡¯s after him. Haven¡¯t had a murder in this city in nearly a year, I don¡¯t want to see two right on top of each other, you hear?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll watch him,¡± Torvald volunteered. ¡°I need a bit of a break anyway ¨C a lazy day will do me good. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll take it from here.¡±


    The guard nodded, handed Bernt the staff and left . The runes were still damaged. They¡¯d have to find someone else to repair it.


    ¡°Alright.¡± Bernt said, ¡°We¡¯ll bring you back some breakfast, alright? Both of you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not hungry.¡± Uriah said weakly as he collapsed down onto his bed. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t mind some water, though.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t feel it because of the blood loss, probably. Thirst always feels more urgent.¡± Nirlig scolded him, digging out a canteen of stale water from his pack and handing it to the dehydrated hydromancer. ¡°You still need food.¡±


    Uriah drank blearily and then nodded. ¡°Fine.¡±


    Bernt grabbed the damaged staff and moved for the door, Nirlig already waiting in the hall when Uriah spoke again.


    ¡°It was trying to find you, I think. Because of your damned imp, probably. Shouldn¡¯t have gotten yourself involved with that thing. Godsdamned demons... you need to watch out, you hear?¡±


    Bernt bit back his retort and took a breath. He wasn¡¯t going to change Uriah¡¯s perspective on Jori ¨C not now, and not soon. He needed to be patient. The guy had been through a few things. Finally, he nodded.


    ¡°We¡¯ll keep an eye out.¡±


    ***


    Bernt stuffed the bundle of dried yarrow and chamomile into the pocket of his robes, feeling a little self-conscious as Nirlig looked on. It had been a few days since he''d last "fed" the infused robes, so he''d stopped to pick up a few things from a little marketplace that they passed. But the goblin didn''t say anything, so Bernt didn''t explain. He would know what it was about, right? This was normal for goblins.


    Before they could find somewhere to get the staff repaired, they needed to go to the bank. He was supposed to continue to receive his salary, plus a stipend from the crown for the duration of his appointment as a legitimator. They¡¯d only been on the road for a single pay cycle, but Bernt hoped it would be enough. Enchanters were expensive, and who knew how much a legitimator made?


    ¡°Hey, how are you covering your expenses?¡± Bernt asked Nirlig as they approached the large, opulent building. ¡°You won¡¯t get paid until we¡¯re back in Halfbridge, right? I mean, it could take months.¡±


    Nirlig laughed. ¡°They don¡¯t pay us as well in the Underkeepers as you, but it¡¯s still pretty good. I made more than twice as much as I did doing manual labor out on the farms before. I¡¯ve got savings. I was even thinking about borrowing a bit from my dad and getting an alchemical enhancement before joining up with the adventurers, but he talked me out of it. Invested gear is a better value, and the Alchemists¡¯ Guild in Halfbridge doesn¡¯t like us, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Goblins, or Underkeepers?¡±


    ¡°Goblins and Underkeepers.¡±


    Bernt grunted in acknowledgement. He certainly hadn¡¯t bought anything from the alchemists before leaving. He¡¯d bought the minor healing potions in his pack at a small markup, courtesy of the City Guard quartermaster. Palina had referred him. Now that he was away, he¡¯d need to track down a local alchemist for a higher quality potion ¨C it always paid to have something fast-acting for emergencies, despite the cost.


    ¡°Besides, this way I don¡¯t have to worry about food or supplies for a while.¡± Nirlig continued. ¡°Unless we get robbed, anyway.¡±


    Bernt laughed. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a huge risk, all things considered.¡± Bandits generally knew better than to mess with an obvious group of adventurers. While more dangerous bands with deserters or disgruntled mercenaries formed occasionally, they didn¡¯t tend to last long. Regular bandits were a municipal issue, but legitimately dangerous armed groups drew down the attention of the military.


    The bank was a large building built in the same over-the-top style as the Mages¡¯ Guild, with marble columns and tall, arched ceilings. Unlike the guild, though, the bank was bustling with activity. Tellers sat behind long counters that ran the length of the room on both sides, protected by a tastefully decorative wrought-iron grate with enchantments so potent they made Bernt¡¯s teeth buzz from the door.


    It took a moment to find a free bank employee, but things progressed smoothly from there. Bernt was required to produce a writ confirming his identity from Narald¡¯s castellan. Then they demanded a sample of either his blood or mana, which could be used to positively identify him and scry his location in the event of any ¡°issue¡±. Cheating a bank to its face had serious consequences.


    They left the building just ten minutes later. Bernt kept his hand clutched around the coins in his pocket. He hadn¡¯t thought to bring his bag, which was relatively safe from pickpockets due to the sheer size of its enchanted interior.


    ¡°Did you know how much you were getting paid?¡± Nirlig asked, appearing shocked.


    Bernt shook his head dumbly. It had been a lot ¨C nearly twenty gold marks in total. The ¡°stipend and expenses¡± for being a legitimator was, by itself, nearly double what he¡¯d earned as an Underkeeper.


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    ¡°Let¡¯s just get our other errands done before the streets get too crowded. I don¡¯t want to stay out here too long with this much money in my pocket.¡±


    ¡°You think someone¡¯s going to steal from a mage?¡± Nirlig asked curiously.


    ¡°Nobody¡¯s going to rob me with a knife,¡± Bernt allowed, ¡°but pickpockets don¡¯t expect to get caught. Watch my back, alright? Let''s go spend some of this.¡±


    ***


    Nirlig unloaded a bag full of the various breakfast foods that they¡¯d collected on their way back and pulled out some kind of deep fried fruit to show Torvald, who was just waking up Uriah for breakfast.


    ¡°Did you find an enchanter?¡± the hydromancer asked blearily.


    ¡°Yeah. Got a good price, though I''ll get reimbursed anyway. I think he probably doesn¡¯t know that his biggest competitor just got murdered. That, or he isn¡¯t very good.¡± Bernt shrugged. They couldn¡¯t really afford to be picky right now, anyway. He pulled out a letter and waved it in the air. ¡°We¡¯ve got news from home, too.¡±


    Unfolding it, Bernt scanned the message.


    Legitimator Bernard,


    Please inform the Invigilation representatives in your group that we have determined the approximate location of the Duergar capital. The so-called ¡°Seat of Molten Stone¡±, is about a league beneath the southern tip of the Sunset Range, where the Kallrix, Illuria and Madzhur meet. I expect that information should be of some use, regardless of what they end up deciding. I¡¯ve already informed the crown.


    As I expect you already know, Archmage Thurdred has returned to Halfbridge. I understand your hesitancy to be open about your ability to communicate with your imp, but would encourage you to place greater trust in the knowledge and experience of your mentors in the future. Please keep me apprised of any relevant information that you may acquire about activities in the hells going forward, especially as it may pertain to Duergar movements on our plane.


    Regards,


    Archmage Iriala


    Bernt cleared his throat and looked up. Right. He¡¯d talked to Jori last night, but he hadn¡¯t shared the news yet. He hadn¡¯t wanted to say anything in front of Olias, and it had slipped his mind this morning with the demonic murder attempts and errands to run.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Torvald asked.


    ¡°Ed is back in Halfbridge! I just got confirmation from Archmage Iriala.¡±


    Uriah sat up. ¡°What? How?¡±


    ¡°Jori brought him back.¡± Bernt said, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. ¡°Just like she said she would.¡±


    Uriah let out a breath and lay back down. ¡°Well. I guess that¡¯s something, at least.¡±


    Leaving out the parts directed at him personally, Bernt summarized the contents of the letter. Torvald perked up when he learned about the location of the Duergar Capital.


    ¡°Well, if nothing else gets done, at least we won¡¯t be stuck fighting them by ourselves. After Loamfurth, the governments of Kallrix and Madzhur are going to want clarity on this whole issue. They won¡¯t be able to ignore it if they¡¯re right below their feet.¡±


    The location in question was relatively close to major cities in both Kallrix and Madzhur. It also bordered on the Phoenix Reaches, which was technically under Illurian administration, but likely wouldn¡¯t concern them nearly as much. The place was uninhabited, and their ¡°rule¡± was more a matter of treaty than actual occupation. That said, they did attempt to restrict access to ¡°foreigners¡±, both in the name of safety and to prevent others from accessing the potent elemental materials that could be gathered there.


    Bernt nodded and got up, heading for the door with the letter in hand. ¡°I need to go find the high priests. They¡¯ll want to know about this and probably send messages ahead to the temples at the Sacral Peaks.¡±


    ***


    Drudnik completed the summoning, whispering a name as he pricked his finger and squeezed a drop of blood down onto the circle in front of him. The ease with which the knife cut into his skin worried him. He was careful to pronounce it exactly right to make sure that he summoned the correct imp. He hated lengthy chanting, trying to get the name just right, so it was a point of pride for him to get it right the first time instead. ¡°Maladzhoth, attend me!¡±


    He couldn¡¯t believe he¡¯d been reduced to summoning imps, like a novice. But his pacted fiend had been out of contact for too long. Its orders had been to report back to him every three days at the latest. It had been nearly five now, and something felt wrong. He was weaker. His skin felt thin, somehow and he¡¯d burned his tongue on his mushroom Chaga this morning. Burned it!


    His novices couldn¡¯t learn of this failure ¨C they might report it behind his back. Drudnik''s master was not an understanding man. If Tallash had somehow been captured, or worse, if the sunwalkers had managed to extract information from him somehow, he would be killed for his failure. Worse, he might find himself gifted for possession to empower one of King Grundrik¡¯s Elect. No, he needed to solve this by himself, and he needed to do it quickly.


    Soon, he would run out of time. His peers, Arith and Kurill, would be resummoning their own demons, a shade and a hag. They had already confirmed with lesser demons that both had been destroyed in the fight. Soon, they would be reborn and summoned again. He needed to know what happened before then, and be ready to defend his actions before their master.


    The bundle of herbs smoldering in a brazier next to him went out.


    ¡°Agh!¡± a high scratchy, high pitched voice yelped. ¡°What?! What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Imp,¡± Drudnik said impatiently. ¡°I have been unable to contact your superior, Tallash. Is he still pursuing the sunwalkers?¡±


    His cadre of warlocks had sent out their pacted demons alongside a small army of their lesser thralls to destroy a convoy of sunwalkers. Kurill¡¯s shade had discovered that they were a diplomatic delegation meant to gather more of their kind to stand against Grundrik¡¯s armies, and to seek the support of their unnatural gods. It should have been a simple job, despite the presence of multiple of their priests.


    The creature spat and the circle flared, its protections catching the noxious projectile with a hiss. Had the creature somehow just spat a wad of hellfire? The Duergar warlock narrowed his eyes at it, trying to decide how to react.


    ¡°Tallash is dead,¡± the accursed creature purred. ¡°I don¡¯t have to talk to you. Send me back!¡±


    ¡°I will not. How long ago was Tallash killed? When will we be able to resummon him? Report!¡±


    The imp glared angrily. ¡°Tallash is dead. He is not coming back. My obligation to him is erased and I owe you nothing. I don¡¯t have a pact with you, and I¡¯m not making one, either!¡±


    ¡°He can¡¯t be dead ¨C he is a demon!¡± Drudnik clenched his jaw in frustration. ¡°I will keep you here until you answer my questions.¡±


    Demons could be destroyed on their home plane, certainly ¨C but a third tier demon with masters as powerful as Tallash had? Not a chance. Who would dare? But¡­ he could feel his pacted resilience, his resistance to fire diminish by the hour. He was in denial.


    The imp scoffed and rolled his eyes. ¡°You can¡¯t hold me. We don¡¯t have a pact. Last chance!¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    The creature disappeared in a burst of hellfire that turned the small room into an oven. The hot air reeked of sulfur and Drudnik coughed, cursing all the while. He needed to summon another imp. He had to salvage all this, somehow. What were their names? He hadn¡¯t memorized them all. If he couldn¡¯t get one to cooperate with him, he was finished.


    Behind him, the door opened.


    ¡°Drudnik,¡± his master said, his voice smooth. ¡°I have received some disturbing news regarding your task here. Zijeregh tells me you have acted recklessly, and potentially cost him one of his own.¡± His eyes narrowed. ¡°You have incurred a debt.¡±

 3.31 Reinforcements

    Bernt sat in the inn¡¯s common room, tapping his foot nervously. With the addition of Torvald''s great uncle, they were fifteen people in all, though Torvald himself wasn''t here.


    The paladin ¨C Bernt''s legal charge ¨C was currently being questioned by the City Guard because of his latest divine mission. Without Bernt. He''d bolted out of bed in the middle of the night, shouting, and run clear across the city to the lake. By the time Bernt caught up with him, two guards were watching the paladin drag an unconscious dwarf out of the water. Both his feet had been encased in magically shaped stone and he''d been dumped into the lake to drown. While they didn''t think Torvald had anything to do with it as a paladin of Ruzinia, the guards thought he could help them figure out who was responsible. He was humoring them, for now, though Bernt couldn''t guess why.


    Fortunately, they didn''t actually have the right to detain a representative of the Invigilation in good standing. They would be leaving soon, heading on to Gobford. In preparation, high priest Hannis had summoned everyone down here to "discuss their next steps."


    Surprisingly, it wasn¡¯t him who started talking, but his legitimator, Captain Emata.


    ¡°With the people that we lost to the demons, and the injured who are on their way to Teres, we only have six adventurers left to act as guards,¡± Emata began, looking over those who remained. ¡°While the Duergars¡¯ demons couldn¡¯t seriously threaten our group in a direct fight, we can¡¯t afford to walk into repeated ambushes, either. The demons will always return so long as we don¡¯t kill their warlocks.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, there¡¯s not a lot we can do about that." Kanan, one of the remaining adventurers grumbled. "Not unless they climb out of the Depths for us and throw themselves on our swords. We¡¯ll never make it to the Peaks at that rate.¡±


    Emata nodded in agreement. ¡°That is correct. What we need is scouts when we¡¯re on the move during the day, and stronger defenses to protect ourselves from ambushes at night ¨C just like we use in the military. To this end, archdruid Leirin, high priest Hannis and I have approached the Adventurers¡¯ Guild to hire additional guards with the relevant expertise.¡±


    High Priest Angjou cleared her throat, frowning. ¡°How many? And who is going to pay them? Don¡¯t you think you should have asked us before making a decision like that? As long as we keep moving quickly enough, they shouldn¡¯t be able to strike us. They have to keep up, and they have to wend their way through caves and tunnels while we can travel in a nearly straight line.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all true, but also naive." Emata replied, her voice gaining an edge. "What are you going to do if and when they find a solution to this problem? Are you going to fight them next time?¡± Emata scoffed and continued, ¡°Assuming that everything will be fine is going to get us killed. The Temple of Noruk has generously offered to shoulder the burden if the others should fail to embrace the seriousness of our situation.¡± She gave a little nod toward Hannis, who inclined his head toward her.


    Bernt furrowed his brow, bewildered by the exchange. Since when were they getting along so well? It was a relief, to be honest. Hannis was clearly an asshole, but at least he seemed serious about not getting them all killed.


    ¡°Yes, great. The Temple of Eyeli will also provide funding as needed.¡± Surin said, rolling her eyes impatiently. ¡°Let¡¯s get on with this. Who did you get?¡±


    Torvald didn¡¯t say anything, but then, nobody expected him to. He had no authority to distribute funds from the Temple of Ruzinia. For that matter, Bernt doubted that they actually had any. Emata cleared her throat, looking a little hesitant for the first time.


    ¡°We were recommended a small party of locals ¨C two rangers, a druid and a shaman ¨C who I agree would serve our purposes best. Their respective specializations should provide us with early warning of any demonic activity, while also slowing and weakening any attacks on us.¡±


    Nirlig sat up, a slow smile splitting his face, but it was Olias who spoke first.


    ¡°A¡­ shaman? Like, a troll witch doctor or something? Do they let those into the Adventurers¡¯ Guild nowadays?¡±


    ¡°Ah, no. They¡¯re goblins from Xul¡¯Dirin up the river for the most part, but the druid is a human.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡± Angjou asked delicately, pointedly not glancing over at Nirlig. ¡°I mean, we¡¯re a religious delegation. Is it appropriate to employ shamanistic¡­ peoples in our defense? Besides, we already have a very powerful druid with us. Does it make sense to recruit another?¡±


    ¡°Yes to both.¡± Emata said emphatically. ¡°Adventurers are best recruited in parties ¨C they¡¯ll be used to operating as a team, which is more than I can say for our current complement of guards.¡± Some of the other adventurers shifted in their seats, and Emata hastened to add, ¡°Through no fault of their own, I¡¯m sure. We accepted pairs and individual adventurers in Halfbridge because we didn¡¯t attract experienced parties after all the fighting we¡¯ve had."


    ¡°Druids aren''t a monolith.¡± Leirin threw in. ¡°Different circles in different regions have their own traditions and seed catalogues. There''s no reason to assume that another druid would be redundant.¡±


    Emata nodded at him with a small smile, acknowledging his support. "They¡¯re well ranked and will be able to improve our overall security significantly, especially with archdruid Leirin and wizard Bernard¡¯s assistance.¡±


    ¡°Goblins can also see in the dark.¡± Nirlig chimed in. ¡°So, you know¡­ that¡¯s something to consider before you let anybody change your mind.¡±


    The tactician grinned. ¡°Thank you, Nirlig, I was aware.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Are you finally going to tell me why you¡¯re so excited?¡± Bernt asked Nirlig. They were waiting with the rest of the expedition just outside Lochholme¡¯s western gate, trying not to block traffic across the massive bridge that crossed the Sul River here. Most of the expedition was parked on a small open area next to the gate, but Bernt and a few others loitered at the foot of the bridge to keep an eye out for the new adventurer party. They were supposed to join them here, but they were late. Uriah stood nearby, critically examining the re-carved runes on his borrowed staff.


    Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°Oh alright. I didn¡¯t want to say anything until I was sure.¡± Nirlig was standing up on the bridge¡¯s balustrade, trying to get a look over the crowds of people shuffling in and out of the gate. ¡°There aren¡¯t a lot of goblin adventurers out there, and only a very small number of those are shamans. Only one, actually, that I know of. She¡¯s a legend ¨C Xul¡¯evareg. Her name¡¯s more like a title, I have no idea what her actual name is. It means ¡°wrath of Xul¡±. She used to be a war leader against the Adventurers¡¯ Guild, back when Xul¡¯Dirin was still a dungeon.¡±


    Bernt shook his head in confusion. ¡°How is she an adventurer, then?¡± Belatedly, he added. ¡°And wouldn¡¯t she be way too old?¡±


    Nirlig laughed. ¡°Try telling her that. She threatened to found a competing guild during the negotiations for the Kallrixian Accords ¨C the ambassador would have let her do it, too. There are never enough adventurers around to fight off all the nasty things that are harassing and preying on people. It was a big deal, even if most of us still don¡¯t want to have anything to do with Adventurers¡¯ Guild.¡±


    Bernt spotted a tall young woman coming out of the gate, looking around for something. She stuck out of the local crowd for several reasons beyond her height, the most obvious of which were the tattoos on her face, her beat-up old quarterstaff and her armor ¨C boiled leather over a gambeson. The tattoos marked her as a pagan from the Beseri wildlands and, if Bernt didn¡¯t miss his guess, she was their new druid.


    Her eyes locked Nirlig, then Bernt, then the rest of the group. A moment later, she pressed through the crowd toward them, pushing out of the flow of traffic alongside three goblins. All three were also women, and they looked as though they might have been three generations of the same family tree.


    The eldest and obviously the leader of the group was a white-haired shaman, recognizable mainly by the fact that she didn¡¯t carry an obvious weapon. Her weathered skin was heavily wrinkled, but her back was straight and she carried herself with energy that belied her obvious age. She had a bandolier covered with small pouches and carried what looked like a ritual knife made of stone tucked into her belt. The other two carried short bows, one in early middle age and the other probably a bit younger than Bernt.


    The old shaman stepped forward, ¡°Escort to Norhold, right? Which one of you is Emata?¡±


    The Captain, who¡¯d hadn¡¯t noticed them approach, interrupted her conversation with Hannis to come and greet the newcomers.


    ¡°Right here, welcome! Xul¡¯evareg, right? Come on over, I¡¯ll introduce you to the priests. They''re the ones with the purse strings.¡±


    The two moved off toward the carriage, leaving the other three behind with Bernt, Nirlig and Uriah.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s good to see we¡¯re not the first goblins in the group,¡± the older of the two goblins said, nodding to Nirlig. ¡°I hope that means we don¡¯t have to spend the first few days walking on eggshells around all these humans. You broke them in for us, right? And such a handsome young man, too.¡± She winked at him and elbowed the girl next to her. ¡°Right, Ina?¡±


    The younger goblin cringed a little and blushed, obviously embarrassed. Bernt looked back, expecting Nirlig to make some kind of quip to defuse the awkward tension, but he was staring wide-eyed at the young ranger in turn.


    Oh boy.


    ¡°Ehm. Is it true you have an archdruid?¡± the only human member of their party asked after a moment, looking over the group, tapping the butt of her staff on the ground in a nervous gesture. She had a light accent that Bernt couldn¡¯t place. ¡°Eva said she saw one at the guild. I¡¯d love to meet him.¡±


    ***


    As the column got underway, the two goblin rangers left the main group to scout ahead, leaving their human companion to walk with Bernt¡¯s group. Around that time, the old goblin shamaness returned and began questioning Nirlig about what had been going on in Halfbridge over the last few months. While news of the Duergar attack had spread, stories of Halfbridge¡¯s new Undercity were still mostly rumor and Xul¡¯evareg was clearly eager to separate fact from fiction.


    The druid¡¯s name was Estrid. She had exchanged a few words with Leirin, but the archdruid had elected to ride in the carriage with the priests and Olias, who had invited himself. She didn¡¯t appear to be interested in getting to know the rest of the expedition and walked in silence for the most part, only briefly introducing herself to Torvald and Uriah. She didn¡¯t speak to Elyn, which was strange, but the half-elf didn¡¯t take offense.


    ¡°So¡­ where are you from?¡± Bernt asked after a while. He wasn''t about to walk all the way to Gobford in silence. ¡°I¡¯ve seen a couple of people with tattoos back home, but those aren¡¯t the same markings they have up near Halfbridge.¡±


    Estrid looked over at him a little suspiciously, as if trying to decide whether to answer.


    ¡°I grew up in the east, across the Uvner River at the foot of the mountains,¡± she finally said.


    ¡°Wow, really? I didn¡¯t even know people lived there.¡± Bernt replied encouragingly. ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s good hunting, but it¡¯s dangerous with all the trolls and the elves.¡± She glanced nervously back toward Elyn. ¡°The troll raids got to be too much, when I was a girl. The elves to the south don¡¯t hunt you, but they kill you if you step into their territory. So, there was nowhere to go except over the river.¡±


    Ah, that made sense. Full-blooded elves were notoriously xenophobic. They weren¡¯t totally isolationist ¨C in fact, they loved to travel, showing up in towns and cities all over the continent and were generally courteous guests. No, they just didn¡¯t allow any foreign visitors into their own territories.


    ¡°Did you go looking for the other¡­ tribes in the wildlands?¡± he asked. It seemed rude to call her a pagan to her face, even if it was technically accurate. She nodded.


    ¡°That¡¯s how we ended up in Xul¡¯Dirin. We heard there were people who spoke our language up in the forests there, or close enough to understand. But they weren¡¯t very happy to see us.¡± She gestured to the tattoo on her cheekbones. ¡°Turns out our tribes had some kind of blood feud forever ago, before your people came and took the land between us. We didn¡¯t remember anymore, but they did. The goblins took us in instead.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s how you ended up in an adventuring party with three of them?


    ¡°Sort of. I joined for Ina. We grew up together. She¡¯s a prodigy with the bow, and Ksuwa¡¯s been teaching her to track and scout for nearly ten years. Needs somebody to watch her back, though, and a healer. Xul¡¯evareg jumped at the chance to take me on. Goblin casters don¡¯t go adventuring, normally. They¡¯re too important to the community.¡±


    Bernt cocked his head at her, trying to decide if she was pulling his leg. ¡°Druids can heal people?¡± Leirin couldn¡¯t do that¡­ If he could, the archdruid would have helped with the wounded after they were attacked, right? Besides, he¡¯d never even heard of it. Druids did strange magic with plants, not people.


    Estrid shrugged modestly, allowing herself a small smile. ¡°You figure out all kinds of things if you have to.¡±


    Bernt watched her for another second and then nodded slowly. Mages dabbled in medicine, too. Why shouldn¡¯t a druid have figured something out?


    ¡°True enough. I worked out a way to fix a spiritual injury to my mana network recently. It had some pretty unexpected side effects, though.¡±


    Estrid perked up, suddenly interested. ¡°Spiritual damage? Are you serious? What happened? How does it work?¡±


    Bernt was only too happy to explain.

 3.32 Escalation

    Jori pulled the bone stopper from the small demon skin vessel and focused on its contents, slowly drawing the soul from it. Her control had improved, but it was still hard to move souls or soul fragments without drawing them into herself.


    There wasn¡¯t much left of this one ¨C a headless arm and torso that Xoryath had found drifting aimlessly over the endless, dead plains to the north, walking on legs that weren¡¯t there anymore. Scavengers had snatched pieces off of this one, but it would keep wandering until it was fully consumed.


    By the time they reached the third hell, there wasn¡¯t much humanity left to souls, but they still ran from obivous danger when attacked. Lesser demons rarely managed to snatch an entire soul by themselves. Instead, they would draw in a fragment, leaving the rest to flee. When they finally ceased to exist on this plane and manifested in the fourth, they would no longer have a humanoid shape. At least, that''s what Josie had told her.


    Jori talked extensively about this topic with the warlock, but the knowledge of exactly what happened to the souls they consumed still surprised her. According to her, the first and second hells stripped souls of their will and their mortal knowledge and experience. So, how did they summon the will to run when they reached her plane?


    Josie had called it the cycle of souls ¨C cleaning all the mortal bits off of something immutable and endless to be thrown back into the world as a new person. Eventually, after the ninth. Jori liked that theory. It made her part of a natural process.


    It also made her feel slightly better about the fact that this had obviously been a child ¨C a gnome, like Trip.


    ¡°Come here!¡± Jori ordered Faedris as Xoryath looked on. The spawnling chittered nervously and approached, looking back and forth between the more powerful imps. It eyed the soul, but didn¡¯t make any move to seize it. Snatching a prize like that in front of a more powerful demon was a good way to get killed, normally. But they were going to do things a little differently.


    It had taken a lot of convincing to get the others to start giving up soul fragments for the benefit of their lessers, but Jori thought she was starting to get through to them. The first transformation cost little in terms of souls, and they would be much more powerful as a group if everyone could at least create hellfire.


    Jori held the soul in place with her will, and took a step back, gesturing for Xoryath to do the same. Faedris'' eyes flitted back and forth between them and the soul.


    ¡°You can have it.¡± Jori said, realizing that he was waiting for her permission. He shuffled a little closer and finally tried to draw it in. A few fragments tore free, like loose threads from a piece of cloth. It was a messy process. Spawnlings had very weak control over souls. Jori could remember what it had been like for her. But this wouldn¡¯t take too long. Even this incomplete soul was far more substantial than the tiny residual fragments she¡¯d been able to pull from corpses on the mortal plane.


    The little imp drew in larger and larger fragments over the course of a few minutes, getting the hang of the process. By the time he slowed down, there was nothing but a shapeless blob left, smaller than Jori¡¯s head. It shivered oddly, though she was still holding it in place.


    Jori had never witnessed this next part from the outside. Faedris squirmed uncomfortably, eyes bulging. He scratched at his joints and hissed. Then he fell to the ground, writhing. Light glowed from a point at his shoulder, brightly at first, then softening suddenly as it washed down his arm. Another brightened at his elbow, then one under his chin, then more and more all over his body.


    As this was happening, the little imp grew. He was getting bigger, sure, but he was changing in more subtle ways, too. Small horns pushed up from his head and his wings changed color, gaining new black patterning along the tips as they grew. His teeth and claws grew longer, and his proportions changed subtly, making him look older.


    When he finally stopped moving and opened his eyes, they were a deeper red and they flickered oddly like fire, just like her own. He jumped up and hissed, beating his wings against the air. Then he looked down at his hand, puzzled. Jori could guess what was going to happen next and took a step back.


    Sure enough, the newly evolved imp shook out his wrist, trying to relieve the odd sense of pressure he¡¯d be feeling there now. Hellfire formed in his palm as he did, spraying all over the place in little droplets. Xoryath yelped when it hit him and cuffed the other imp over the back of the head.


    ¡°Stop it!¡± she snarled and Faedris cowered submissively. They were equals now, technically, but it would take time for him to get used to his new self.


    ¡°This¡­ is annoying,¡± he grumbled, sneaking a glance down at his wrist. The words were mangled, but it seemed that he¡¯d managed to pick up some Beseri from her and Ed. Now that he had the capacity for mortal speech, she¡¯d be able to teach him properly.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it. The first transformation is always the worst.¡± Jori reassured him. ¡°It was for me, anyway. Don¡¯t worry about it!¡±


    ¡°There. I contributed to the pack.¡± Xoryath said impatiently, ignoring the other imp. ¡°You promised rewards. Are you finally going to tell me the secrets of the mortals that you think will keep us alive and free?¡±


    Jori grinned at her cousin and held up a hand in demonstration. Concentrating, she called up hellfire, tweaking her channels as she did in a complex pattern that she¡¯d only worked out hours before. Hellfire flickered around her claws for a moment before coating her entire hand in flames. Casually, Jori picked up a small rock and let it melt in her palm.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Xoryath wouldn¡¯t be able to use this spell yet ¨C hellfire could still burn her. But it just looked so great! The other imp stared, wide eyed. Apparently she agreed.


    ¡°How are you doing that? Does it hurt?¡±


    ¡°Of course not! It''s sorcery! I think it¡¯s something that the Great Ones all do. They figure it out, eventually ¨C they just never bother to tell us. That¡¯s what¡¯s wrong with us, and with this whole place! We don¡¯t share anything ¨C not souls, not knowledge, and not power. That¡¯s what I want to change. I¡¯m going to tell you about magic, and together, we are going to become the greatest pack of demon sorcerers ever!¡±


    ***


    The expedition stopped relatively early, choosing a defensible position on top of a hill and packing everyone close together in a tight circle, with the wagons and the carriage near the outside providing an additional barrier between them and the nearby trees. Nirlig and Ina, who''d been making eyes at each other all day, volunteered to take the horses out to pasture and hobble them there. It wasn¡¯t ideal to leave them outside and undefended all night, but they wouldn¡¯t tolerate being stuck between the cooking fire and Bernt''s wall of flames for hours on end.


    While the others set up camp, Bernt and Estrid got to work on the camp¡¯s defenses. She cast seeds around them in a ring, leaving just a narrow gap to allow them to get in and out. Under her ministrations, the seeds rapidly grew into a thicket of stringy green plants several paces thick. It was enlightening to watch her work. Druids worked magic, in the sense that Bernt could sense that she was manipulating mana. He knew that druids were born with the same innate talent as mages, but he''d never actually sensed one work before. It was strange ¨C she wasn¡¯t shaping spellforms or casting spells. Instead, the ambient mana was being ¡°fed¡± into the wall of plants in front of her somehow. Bernt knew there was more to it than that, but it was all he could sense directly.


    The plants didn''t look especially dangerous ¨C but Bernt realized they didn''t need to be. Every stalk was covered in miniscule barbs that would catch on skin and clothing, so anyone who tried to push through would be hopelessly entangled. Hellfire would burn through it easily, of course, but it wouldn¡¯t be subtle. And after that, they would still have to contend with Bernt¡¯s circle of flames. It would take time to break through, and would rob them of any element of surprise.


    ¡°Are you sure this isn¡¯t going to destroy my clingweeds?¡± Estrid asked a little nervously as Bernt¡¯s spell raised silver fire all around the camp, the flames licking at the edges of her odd plants. ¡°You¡¯ve tried this with the archdruid before, right?¡±


    In a stroke of inspiration, Bernt had decided to cast his ring of banefire just inside the druidic thicket, mostly hiding it from view. The dim flame was faintly visible in the fading light, but maybe the demons wouldn¡¯t see it in time. Whatever the case, their combined efforts should go a long way to slowing down any attacks and keeping their sentries safe.


    ¡°Leirin didn¡¯t do anything like this, so not exactly.¡± Bernt confessed. ¡°The archmage likes to cover the ground in tiny weeds that have thousands of thorny seeds. No matter how they fall, a thorn is always pointing up. He¡¯s probably out there doing it right now. I¡¯m not sure how well it works on demons, since they haven''t attacked us since he started doing it, but don¡¯t go out there without your boots on. Regin made that mistake trying to find somewhere to relieve himself ¨C he had to ride in the cart for a day. Anyway, I¡¯ve tested it on plants before. It¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    The druid nodded, and looked around, probably trying to spot Leirin outside. ¡°I¡¯ll need to compare seed libraries with him. Something like that could be really useful. Someone like him might have all kinds of exotic plants, maybe even Seheshi swampmaws! I¡¯ve always wanted one, but they¡¯re incredibly hard to come by. Hard to propagate, you see.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s worth a try, probably.¡± Bernt said noncommittally. The archdruid had been polite, but relatively standoffish so far. If druids worked like mages, he doubted she¡¯d be able to get anything out of him for free. He also wasn¡¯t so sure that Leirin really carried such a broad assortment of seeds. All in all, the man had been a bit of a disappointment in terms of his defensive work, at least for someone who¡¯d been trusted to fight a dragon alongside archmage Janus. He hadn¡¯t really done much when the demons came for them.


    Then again, Bernt supposed he might just not be well-suited to these kinds of fights. Or maybe he excelled at supporting other adventurers or fighting singular, very powerful enemies. Hopefully, they wouldn¡¯t have to find out.


    The two returned to the others to find that they¡¯d set up a large but low ring-shaped cookfire, where several adventurers were busily making dinner. Kanan and Nirlig fried strips of salted pork in two large iron pans while Torvald, Regin and Elyn toasted rock-hard travel biscuits over the coals alongside everyone else who wasn¡¯t currently busy elsewhere. Ina and Ksuwa were already asleep under one of the wagons ¨C they would have to stand watch during the darkest part of the night.


    A few steps away, Xul¡¯evareg was performing some kind of ritual, chanting something under her breath as she rocked back and forth and wafted the smoke from a smoldering bundle of herbs around. Bernt could feel mana moving around her in odd ways. Then, the stone knife came out and she nicked herself on the back of a scarred hand, producing a small amount of blood that seemed to evaporate away in a matter of seconds.


    That done, she tossed what was left of the herbs into the fire.


    ¡°Alright, time for some dinner!¡± She looked over the activity by the fire with some skepticism. ¡°Having meat¡¯s nice, I suppose, but no greens?¡±


    ¡°Ah, right!¡± Estrid said, digging in the pouch that hung around her shoulder. A moment later, she pulled out a small envelope and shook a few seeds out onto her palm. ¡°Hey, you can conjure water, right? I could make us a salad, but crops are always thirsty. Will you help me out?¡±


    Bernt shook his head. ¡°Ah, I can... but we should just ask Uriah. That¡¯s more his kind of thing. I¡¯ll go find him.¡±


    He should probably ask the hydromancer for a bit of help on his own water spells. Bernt could conjure water if he absolutely had to ¨C he did it routinely at home ¨C but it took him a long time and he never got the alignments quite right in the spellform. Shaping a conjuration spell to evenly irrigate a patch of dirt was well beyond his abilities. At least this leg of the trip was shaping up to be a bit less chaotic than the previous one. He wasn¡¯t too exhausted ¨C maybe he¡¯d find some time to practice after dinner.


    When he returned, Uriah in tow, Estrid wasn¡¯t there. She was following Xul¡¯evareg, who was pacing along the inside of their defensive circle with a serious expression. No one else seemed to have noticed, so the two mages hurried over.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Bernt asked.


    ¡°Hmm, something nasty," the old goblin grumbled. "Local wildlife maybe, for some of it. But demons, too. Xul says their stink is in the water, here. Need to watch out, tonight.¡±

 3.33 Eyes in the Dark

    As the news spread that the demons were out there, the mood in the camp grew tense. Captain Emata assigned guard duties to every combat-capable person available, which was everyone except Angjou, Surin, Olias and Regin. No one questioned how exactly she''d ended up in charge. A week earlier, the assertive young officer had shouted down a high priest of Noruk and somehow gained what passed for respect from the man. No one wanted to try her. Bernt supposed it was just as well to finally have someone who knew what they were doing organizing things.


    Nirlig ended up on first watch alongside Torvald, Kanan and another adventurer named Tarik. The others took positions just inside Bernt¡¯s ring of banefire, but Nirlig climbed up onto the wagon to get a better vantage over the entire area. Having a goblin up there would, by itself, be worth more in terms of early warning than everyone else combined. Though, now that he considered it...


    ¡°I can take a shift up there, too.¡± Bernt said, pointing at the wagon as Emata tried to assign him to the third watch. ¡°I can see in the dark.¡±


    He¡¯d only used his infused belt for the strength that it could give him, and only sparingly at that. That was good, since Grixit had warned him that overusing it might have side effects ¨C but it had another use. Unlike his other equipment, the belt hadn¡¯t been blessed by a natural spirit ¨C instead, it contained the soul of the mountain lion who the skin had originally belonged to. Using it allowed it access to his senses, while granting Bernt some of its strength. According to Josie, it was a more primitive version of the kind of equipment the Berserker''s Guild used.


    Emata gave him an appraising look but then nodded tiredly, not bothering to ask. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s good. You¡¯ll still be third watch, but up on the wagon. We¡¯ll let the old goblin shaman sleep. With you and the rangers, we¡¯ll have someone who can attack at range on the wagon most of the night.¡±


    ***


    By the time Ksuwa, the older of the two goblin rangers, came to get him for his watch, Bernt was already sitting up. It was a clear night, and freezing cold. He¡¯d woken up shivering, and was already warming himself on a torch spell.


    ¡°There was a bit of movement over toward the trees,¡± the goblin reported. ¡°But nothing interesting so far. The horses are getting kind of far away, but they¡¯re out in the open. Keep an eye out.¡±


    The pyromancer nodded. Seeing that the goblin was warming her hands on the torch spell, he left it burning, activated his belt and climbed up into the wagon. He shot over the side and crashed awkwardly onto his side on the hard wood, having underestimated his strength as he pulled himself up. He groaned quietly and righted himself. Right. The belt did more than one thing.


    Still, he couldn''t help but marvel at the improvement to his vision as he took in his surroundings. It wasn¡¯t as though night had turned to day ¨C the colors were mostly washed out ¨C but he could see far and incredibly clearly.


    As Ksuwa had said, there was nothing happening. A few of the other guards were changing watch, and he could see Hannis taking position at the narrow gap that served as the only entrance to their defenses. It was even colder up here than it had been below, with the wind cutting right through his clothes.


    Bernt shivered and stuck his hands into his sleeves, considering. His torch spell wouldn''t do much here ¨C the heat would just blow away. It was also bright. A big enough fire would probably get the job done, wind or not, but it was going to paint him as a target for a league in every direction.


    Why wasn''t there a spell to just warm his clothes directly? Bernt scowled. He knew why, of course. The problem with pyromancy was that you couldn''t just make something warm ¨C fire was hot. Stupid, freezing wind. Bernt turned, trying to keep his back to the breeze, before remembering that he couldn''t just look downwind all night.


    Oh. Oh!


    Struck by a sudden realization, Bernt withdrew his left hand from his sleeve and began sketching runes in broad, circular motions, trying to recall exactly how the spell went. He needed to modify the shape, but that was something he¡¯d had extensive practice with in the past few months.


    The Mages¡¯ Academy taught five standard shield spells and Bernt had shown real talent with two of them ¨C he¡¯d just never really taken to the second. He had been more dazzled by the prospect of shooting fire from his hands, which, to be fair, he still enjoyed. Now, though, it was time he revisited his aeromancy.


    The spell took a little long to put together ¨C he had to find and remove the influence of his burning rain investiture on the spellform ¨C but it felt comfortable in a way that even the stone shaping spell he¡¯d spent the last two months practicing still didn¡¯t. The wind barrier spun into existence over and around him in an invisible dome that extended from just over his head around the wagon and nearly down to the ground. The freezing wind cut off to almost nothing, leaving just the barest draft pulling air out from below the bed of the wagon.


    It wasn¡¯t a personal heating spell, but it was enough. He¡¯d have to focus to maintain it and feed it mana, but since he was just sitting here, he might as well practice.


    Bernt kept it up for nearly an hour, recasting the shield in a few different variations in hopes of improving its efficiency as he watched the horizon. There wasn¡¯t much to see but empty fields and their hobbled horses on one side and trees on the other, just across the road. The demons Xul¡¯evareg had mentioned would be hiding in there, he was sure ¨C there was nowhere else they could be. But it was completely quiet.


    What if they were just sitting there, staring right back at him from the woods? What could they be doing? As he sat there, staring, he caught a glint of something in the bushes. Were those eyes? He stood up and peered into the trees, trying to catch another glimpse.


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    A branch cracked, followed by a loud rustling sound. Where was it coming from? One of the guards called out something ¨C they¡¯d heard it, too. Something moved over to the right, but by the time Bernt found the spot, there was nothing left to see.


    Bernt let the wind barrier dissipate and prepared a banefire spell. Where were they?


    Quiet returned. No attack came. Bernt sat back down, his back aching with tension. It would almost be easier if they just attacked.


    Another minute later, the cold got to him and he recast his wind barrier.


    Twenty seemingly eternal minutes later, color began to bleed onto the horizon and the camp began to stir. Someone lit the cookfire and Bernt breathed a sigh, releasing some of the nervous tension that had begun to creep up into his neck. They¡¯d be getting underway soon.


    Stiffly, he climbed down from the wagon and deactivated his belt. Grixit had been right to warn him about it ¨C he really did have a sudden craving for meat.


    Ignoring his grumbling stomach, Bernt dispelled the wall of banefire. Small groups of two or three stepped outside the defenses to relieve themselves. They¡¯d dug a shallow latrine inside the night before, but it turned out not everyone had been willing to use it.


    Breakfast was a hurried affair. They needed to get moving, and nobody wanted to stay here. While Bernt and Uriah worked on tea, the goblin rangers went to gather the horses. Olias, Leirin and Angjou, who were getting along surprisingly well, shared a small bottle of brandy under Hannis¡¯ disapproving glare.


    Estrid began to take down part of her clingweed defenses ¨C they needed a much bigger gap to get the wagons out. In the space of about a minute, the odd plants grew taller and the stems became woody before dying and drying out. When it was done, the druid stepped forward and dug around in the mess, breaking off several small seed pods near the stems and putting them in her pouch.


    Bernt tried to think of a way to safely burn a swathe through, but it turned out to be unnecessary. The druid simply walked through, crushing the now fragile material without effort and kicking to make the path wider. Grinning, Bernt joined in. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that you didn¡¯t need magic for everything.


    ¡°Hey, is Kanan back here?¡± someone called. It was Tarik, the adventurer who¡¯d had his insides rearranged by a demon in the first attack. He was looking around urgently, craning his neck.


    ¡°Nobody came through here,¡± Bernt answered. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Went out to take a piss. Captain said groups of two and stay in sight, so I went with him. But he says he can¡¯t piss with somebody watching, see? Told me to wait on the road for a minute¡­¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± Bernt cursed. He looked around. Several adventurers, as well as Captain Emata were already running over to see who had called out.


    Bernt managed to find Torvald, Elyn and Uriah by the time Tarik had repeated his story to the Captain. Nirlig had found his own way to the group, and they pushed out toward the trees in force.


    ¡°Kanan?¡± Someone called pointlessly ¨C probably Tarik.


    ¡°Where did you last see him?¡± Emata asked.


    The burly man pointed and they moved in the indicated direction, pushing into the bushes. At a signal from the captain they spread out, keeping their eyes peeled for signs of an ambush. Bernt drew his wand in his left hand and activated his thornskin amulet. He didn¡¯t want to wear the thing out, but they were practically blind down here in the undergrowth. A protective amulet wasn¡¯t going to matter in a week if he got his throat torn out in the next five minutes.


    Someone gave a shout to Bernt¡¯s left. Recognizing Nirlig''s voice, he oriented toward the sound and pushed through the dense foliage.


    They converged on the goblin to find him standing over Kanan, who was lying facedown on the ground, his pants down around his ankles. He was dead.


    Tarik shouted and cursed at the sight, only stopping when Emata put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. She nudged the body with a foot and then turned it over. He looked uninjured, as if he¡¯d just stopped breathing.


    ¡°Well, shit.¡±


    ***


    Zijeregh walked down the road, enjoying the odd feeling of gravel crunching under her boots. She had never had a mortal body before. It was strange. She could feel the mortal¡¯s consciousness just under the surface, struggling. She¡¯d been concerned, at first, that the foolish warlock would somehow manage to interfere with her control or her abilities, but her fears had proven to be unfounded. While he was an annoyance, Drudnik was entirely impotent. She¡¯d felt his revulsion at the pleasure she took in the stupid human¡¯s death, and his terror when she drew in her victim¡¯s soul and consumed his will.


    He¡¯d realized only then that something had gone terribly, irrevocably wrong.


    Her true body was much better than this diminutive shell, but the incompetence of her now-dead servant, Tallash, had given her little choice. A mortal body in itself didn''t really offer any advantages, except perhaps to incorporeal demons such as shades. No, the true value of upgrading to a possession pact lay in the fine print. Duergar, like many foolish mortals, preferred to reuse existing pacts without proper review ¨C especially those of more senior warlocks whom they respected.


    In this case, that warlock was King Grundrik, arguably the greatest summoner in the Duergar Empire. Unfortunately for him, greatness did not always go hand-in-hand with prudence.


    Most basic Duergar pacts required pacted demons always to obey and serve in the best interest of their summoner. Disdaining such diminutive language, however, King Grundrik had bound Nuros to serve not his summoner, but ¡°his master and true king.¡±


    Nuros only had one master, one king, and his name was Varamemnon.


    To any demon, it was a glaring loophole ¨C one that the demons in Nuros¡¯ hierarchy were careful not to exploit too brazenly, when given the opportunity. Zijeregh, too, would be circumspect. The Duergar wanted her to destroy this group of mortals, and she would. But she couldn¡¯t simply send her two remaining servants and their pathetic thralls to deal with them. She already looked weak with Tallash¡¯s failure, not to mention his inexplicable destruction. If her thralls were defeated again, it would reflect even more poorly on her.


    The connection between the imp ¨C the one Nuros wanted ¨C and Tallash¡¯s thralls had been a happy coincidence. After a century of service, the eye of her master was finally upon her. But his attention was a risk, as well. Tallash had failed her, which meant that she had failed Nuros. If the fiend were not already dead, she would have destroyed the idiot herself.


    Now, she was in a dangerous position. She needed to set an example ¨C to make a statement, both to her master and to her rivals. If she failed, she would be destroyed.

 3.34 Gobford

    ¡°You need to go in there and talk to them,¡± Olias told Torvald, huffing as he marched next to his grandnephew and pointed ahead to the carriage. It was obvious to Bernt that the old man didn¡¯t get much exercise. ¡°You have to trust me on this. It¡¯s important.¡±


    ¡°And say what?¡± Torvald protested. ¡°I don¡¯t want to get involved. I¡¯m going to the Sacral Peaks because the goddess told me to, and when I get there, I''m going to vote however she tells me.¡±


    Bernt frowned at the paladin. ¡°You can¡¯t ¨C that¡¯s not how it works. You have to decide for yourself. You didn¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°No, what? What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s part of the whole agreement that formed the Invigilation.¡± Bernt explained. Maybe all the post-imperial history Iriala had made him learn wasn¡¯t a complete waste of time. ¡°Humanity sets its own course, and the gods support it as long as they don¡¯t betray their covenant with them. The gods will only interfere personally on such a grand scale if all four are in agreement, which hasn¡¯t happened since the Invigilation was formed. That means Ruzinia won''t tell you what to choose.¡± Bernt raised an eyebrow, looking over at Olias. ¡°Right?¡±


    The old man shrugged. ¡°No idea. I¡¯m just saying that Ruzinians are always hard to come by ¨C I don¡¯t think anyone expects there to be a lot of representatives at the Conclave. That means your vote is going to be weighted more heavily than other people¡¯s. And that means you¡¯re going to have people with interests crawling all over you if you don¡¯t start ''communicating'' first. You need to set the tone before others do it for you. If you¡¯re obnoxious enough about it, they might even leave you alone after a while.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll do that whether I go and talk to them or not.¡± Torvald grumbled. ¡°I¡¯m not going to vote to send the entire continent to war in the Depths, so what is there to talk about?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know.¡± Olias replied, a little testily. ¡°Facilitating a common defense pact backed by the gods themselves would be a good start. Maybe coordinating an intelligence network that reaches into the Duergar Empire. That and making diplomatic contact with their Imperial Council.¡±


    ¡°Also, getting all the attending countries to send adventuring teams into the Depths to gather intelligence,¡± Bernt added. ¡°Iriala said the existing data is over a century old in some cases, and huge portions haven¡¯t ever been properly mapped. We need to know where the Duergar Empire¡¯s borders are and who their enemies are down there. We might find more allies.¡±


    Torvald scowled grumpily at both of them and then at the carraige. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not going to be able to make any of that happen here or with them.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Bernt allowed, ¡°but you can make sure that the others are aware of these ideas. Maybe they''ve already thought of all this themselves, or maybe not. If Hannis likes them, you might not even have to worry about him trying to mobilize everyone for some kind of holy war in the Depths.¡±


    ¡°I just said I didn¡¯t want to play the game.¡± Torvald complained. ¡°This is playing the game!¡±


    Olias snorted and lightly slapped his grandnephew over the back of the head.


    ¡°No it isn¡¯t! This is how you opt out. Closest thing to it, anyway. All you''re doing is telling them what you would and wouldn¡¯t support. You say your piece before all the smart-mouthed diplomatic types come around with their overcomplicated ideas and muddy everything up. Your ¡°peers¡± there will start gossipping the moment we arrive. If you¡¯re a known quantity, they can work around you. Then you can let all the political people work out the details and fight over who does what and how and with whose money. Take it from a man of experience ¨C this is the most efficient way. Then you can go drinking, or whatever you do for fun. I¡¯m going to sample the local wines. You can join me if you like.¡±


    Bernt eyed the man skeptically. ¡°Isn¡¯t the king going to be very interested in all those small details? I thought you¡¯d be pushing him to get involved in all that stuff...¡±


    Olias rolled his eyes. ¡°Renias knows better than to send me for that. I¡¯m here because he wanted to get me out of his court for a few months. That, and to make sure people notice that we have one of Ruzinia¡¯s Chosen in the family now. That sort of thing goes over wonderfully with the masses. And also, I volunteered.¡±


    Torvald choked. ¡°You¡­ why? My mother told me you hated traveling.¡±


    ¡°That was over thirty years ago!" Olias rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively. "Besides, I wanted a change of scenery. Teres isn''t so great, you know? And how else was I going to meet my young grandnephew? Of course, nobody bothered to warn me we¡¯d be getting chased by murderous demons the entire way.¡±


    ¡°That was always a risk,¡± Torvald said. ¡°We might run into the Duergar themselves at some point, too. They must have said something.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t pay attention at the briefing,¡± Olias grumbled in reply. ¡°Why are you still here? Get into that damned carriage and tell them what you think!¡±


    ***


    That evening, they reached a mid-sized farming town at the foot of a large mountain to the west. The weather was noticeably warmer here, and many of the fields were green with winter crops. Bernt could practically feel the sigh of relief shiver through the group when they came in sight of the walls. There would be no camping out in the open that night.


    That tension returned in the morning, when they found that Torvald was missing. Thet organized a search party and tried to contact the guard, but it turned out to be unnecessary. He¡¯d only been called out on another divine rescue mission ¨C this time to save a child from an abusive home.


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    The paladin¡¯s testimony had been enough to see the boy sent to a relative to live and to have his father pilloried in the town square.


    ¡°You know, you¡¯re supposed to take me along for this stuff,¡± Bernt complained once they¡¯d found him and gotten underway again. ¡°As part of the Invigilation, you¡¯re technically a foreign agent ¨C it¡¯s literally my job to keep track of you!¡±


    Torvald scoffed, unrepentant. ¡°They didn¡¯t know that. Besides, nobody doubts a Ruzinian. We don¡¯t have a hidden agenda and we don¡¯t play games.¡±


    Bernt frowned at him thoughtfully and, after a moment, decided to let it go. He was right ¨C nobody would question a real paladin of Ruzinia, but that wasn¡¯t why he¡¯d left Bernt behind. No, his friend was just working through some things. Torvald was probably still bitter about having to talk to the priests about the Conclave ¨C to play their game, as he¡¯d said. Bernt¡¯s presence as his legitimator made him a part of those political games. He was, after all, the paladin¡¯s government-appointed minder. He could understand wanting to escape for a few hours. He¡¯d still have to include it in his eventual report to Count Narald, though.


    ***


    The next several days passed mostly uneventfully, though they were stressful all the same. Bernt and Estrid further refined their nightly defenses, and on the second night, Leirin and Uriah began to get involved more significantly as well. The hydromancer saturated the ground outside their slightly elevated camps with water, turning their surroundings into a temporary bog. Leirin, capitalizing on this, planted what he called ¡°marsh stranglers¡± in the improvised moat. The innocuous looking vines were carnivorous and would drag small prey down into the water to drown. It wouldn¡¯t kill something as large as a demon, but it would be an inconvenience and slow them down if they came again.


    Every night Xul¡¯Evareg performed her ritual, and every night she reported that demons were nearby. They were being followed every step of the way. But no attacks came, until finally they rode into view of Gobford.


    Where Lochholme was characterized by an air of past greatness fallen on hard times, this city had the air of a place that had never really planned to be great in the first place, thank you very much. Cheap wooden buildings and shanties spilled beyond the walls, sprawling out from the crowded city center toward the fields. As they approached, Bernt smelled the familiar odor of sewage running down shallow gutters in the obviously unplanned outer neighborhoods. Still, someone had gone to the trouble of paving the streets, which was more than many cities could say for their slums. The smell improved once they got inside the walls, but it was clear that this place had outgrown itself and never quite adapted to its status as a proper city.


    Buildings that had likely started as simple stone and brick houses in a much smaller town rose three or four stories up into the air, with wooden and half-timber construction slowly layered over the existing structures. In most cases, the upper floors were slightly larger than the ones below them, giving the houses a unique style, while also casting the streets below into shadow.


    After getting settled at a local inn, Bernt excused himself to find the Mages¡¯ Guild. They¡¯d made it more than halfway to the Sacral Peaks, and he still hadn¡¯t managed to do any research to speak of. That was going to change here ¨C he wasn¡¯t going to miss out on Gobford¡¯s guild library. There was a pass leading through the mountains a few days¡¯ south of there, though the border area was supposed to be guarded by the Illurians. Past it lay the Phoenix Reaches. It was by far the most accessible way to gain entry. If any guild branch outside of Teres had some solid research on the place, it would be here.


    The guild building, like the city itself, had what Bernt could only describe as ¡°character¡±. What had probably started as a simple square building made of stone transitioned into round tower at the third floor, which went on to rise dramatically over the rest of the city. Some of the floors had large balconies, while others had misaligned windows of various sizes. It all looked a little¡­ unintentional, as if no one had bothered to consult an architect in the construction. It wasn¡¯t pretty, but¡­. looking it over for a few seconds, Bernt decided that he liked it. The entire place had a lived-in feel that made him feel at home, somehow, even though it was nothing like Halfbridge.


    He entered the building, wondering at how different cities in a single country could be so drastically different. Was it the culture? Different kinds of governance and architectural guidelines? Or was it just about money?


    The reception area of the guild here had no desk, and no one to greet or manage visitors. Instead, the wall across from the door featured a map of the building detailing where everything was. The library was on the second floor, and the Scryers¡¯ Office up on the fifth.


    It was already evening, but they would be open for another two hours. He had time to drop into the library first to see if it, at least, hadn¡¯t been cleaned out like the one in Lochholme. Besides, it was on his way. Taking the steps two at a time, Bernt hurried up, offering a nod to a passing mage who gave him a curious look as he passed, but didn¡¯t challenge him.


    The door to the Gobford guild library had been left open, and Bernt stepped inside unchallenged. There was a desk next to the door, but it wasn¡¯t occupied. They really did things differently here than back home. How did they keep out unauthorized visitors? The entire place was a single room that encompassed almost the entire floor. It was still smaller than the library in Halfbridge, but it was absolutely packed with books and scrolls.


    Throwing glances left and right to check the placards indicating various sections, Bernt strode through the stacks. It was an odd organizational system, and it wasn¡¯t immediately clear how to find anything. For example, there were sections for elemental magics like pyromancy and geomancy, but there was also an entirely separate section for combat magic, with subsections for various specializations. Similarly, there were small, dedicated sections for each of the various professions that guild mages might pursue.


    Stopping at the pyromancy section, Bernt browsed through the titles, looking for anything that might have something to do with elemental summoning or the Phoenix Reaches. He¡¯d have to ask someone about finding anything related to sorcery ¨C there was no telling exactly where something like that might get filed away here. Nothing immediately stood out, but there was a lot of material here. Ideally, he needed to find books authored by local wizards. Copies of more prolific work would likely already have been in the Halfbridge library. He needed a local.


    Bernt spent a few more minutes looking for the librarian, but finally gave up and climbed up to the fifth floor. He''d come back later and hope someone would be there who could help him out. Pulling Iriala¡¯s token and a prepared note from his pocket, Bernt knocked twice on the door on the landing and entered.


    A brown-robed mage, presumably the missing librarian, hastily rose from her position on the lap of the man sitting behind the front desk of the Scryers¡¯ Office. She brushed past him, coughing in embarrassment and turning bright red as she descended the stairs. Bernt watched her go and then turned back to the scryer manning the desk.


    ¡°Ahem,¡± the man said, flushing and trying to straighten his robe. ¡°How can I help you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to send a message to the guild in Halfbridge,¡± Bernt said, putting the note and token down on the desk. ¡°Directly, please.¡±


    The clerk eyed the token for a second, then his eyebrows shot up.


    ¡°Wow. I mean, sure, okay.¡± He picked up the note and disappeared through a door behind him for a moment. Bernt heard voices for a few seconds, then he was back.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have that taken care of right away. All things considered, I¡¯m sure it¡¯s got to be pretty urgent. I bet all the big players are trying to coordinate a solid response right now.¡±


    Bernt blinked. ¡°Ehm, I¡¯ve been on the road from Lochholme for five days. Just got here. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no way! You don¡¯t know?! Teres is under attack. The garrison and the crown guard were trying to secure more of the depths under the city and ran right into a Duergar army. They¡¯ve been actively fighting for nearly two days.¡±

 3.35 Innovation

    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Torvald asked. Bernt had found him and several of the others gathered around a table to hear Nirlig drunkenly regale them with the story of how he¡¯d lost his two missing fingers. The way Bernt remembered it, the goblin hadn''t thought it was very funny when his father had dragged him back to safety, but he supposed enough beer could take the edge off of anything. They''d been laughing when he came in, but the mood had sombered up quickly when he brought the news about Teres.


    ¡°It¡¯s bad business.¡± Ksuwa grumbled around her cup. ¡°Big demons never came for us, up in the wilds, you know? It¡¯s because we don¡¯t live in cities. Probably looks like a tasty beehive to a bear. You''d think humans would have learned from the last time.¡±


    Ina, who was sitting next to Nirlig, elbowed the older woman to shut her up, but she just rolled her eyes and took another swig.


    ¡°Well, it sounds like they caught them early,¡± Emata said, ignoring the goblins, ¡°so the enemy didn¡¯t get the element of surprise. They might be poorly positioned, too, and vulnerable. The garrison alone has over ten thousand soldiers, and the crown guard is another three thousand elites. Honestly, the generals in Teres are probably thinking about counterattacking more than simple defense. It''s the best time for it.¡±


    Bernt swallowed, digesting that. ¡°Isn¡¯t that insanely dangerous? I thought we stayed out of the Depths for a reason.¡± It was better than having their capital get overrun or besieged, but this would still be a bad development for the Mages¡¯ Guild. If Besermark was already invading the Depths by the time talks started, there would be no status quo to defend. Iriala¡¯s directive to him ¨C to keep Besermark from committing to a full-scale war that would inevitably gut the entire Mages'' Guild for a generation ¨C would be pointless.


    The Invigilation couldn¡¯t drag Besermark into a massive subterranean war if they were already in one. What was he supposed to do at that point? They still didn''t know if they were actually fighting the entire Empire, but did that really matter now? The part that was beneath them was attacking. He needed to ask Iriala for advice.


    Emata shrugged. ¡°We have a disadvantage down there, compared to them. But that doesn¡¯t mean we can just let them dig right under our cities. Soldiers get sent into unfavorable conditions all the time ¨C it¡¯s part of the job. The Duergar were stupid to try to reach us where we¡¯re strongest. Impatient. Maybe they got overconfident after Loamfurth. As long as we don¡¯t overextend, our forces should be able to punish the Duergar pretty severely for that.¡±


    ¡°Damn.¡± Torvald sat back and glanced at Bernt and then Nirlig. ¡°Do you think they¡¯re going to make Josie go and fight?¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°The Solicitors aren¡¯t technically obligated, since they¡¯re not a chartered guild¡­ but they¡¯ve got to be pretty angry about the damage the Duergar warlocks are doing to their reputation. I mean, the Invigilation is already being reactivated ¨C how long until they start purging Beseri warlocks again? People are scared already. I¡¯d be surprised if they didn¡¯t try to get involved somehow, and Josie¡¯s the only one who has fought them before.¡±


    ¡°She''ll be fine,¡± Nirlig said. ¡°They''d probably want her in an advisory role, or something. Can¡¯t be worse than getting pinned down in the Undercity.¡±


    Whatever happened, they weren¡¯t going to be able to do much about it. They needed to get to the Peaks. By the time they finished the talks, whatever was going to happen at Teres would likely already be over. The others continued to speculate, but Bernt excused himself and headed to bed ¨C they weren¡¯t staying in the city long, and he had a busy day at the library ahead of him tomorrow.


    ***


    ¡°Do you really think they¡¯re going to let me in?¡± Uriah asked tiredly as Bernt led the reluctant hydromancer down the street toward the Mages¡¯ Guild tower. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re going to make an exception just because you¡¯re there.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± Bernt argued, opening the door. ¡°I didn¡¯t even see a librarian when I was here yesterday. Nobody asked me for any guild identification, either.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean I won¡¯t get fined if they catch me.¡± Uriah grumbled. But he came anyway. Bernt had already had this conversation with him once, when he convinced him to come along over breakfast. They were only going to be in the city for a single day, and they would be able to go through a lot more material together than if Bernt had to do it alone.


    Like yesterday, the library¡¯s doors stood open, though this time the desk by the door was properly manned by a brown-robed man. He glanced up from a book he was reading as they entered, then did a double take.


    ¡°Oh, hello!¡± he greeted them, eyes growing round when he noticed their gray robes. ¡°Visitors from afar ¨C and Underkeepers at that, incredible!" He stood up and gave a tiny bow. "Head librarian Kain, at your service. Where are you from? Did you come to look at our new section on underkeeping? I didn¡¯t realize that word would have already gotten around, it¡¯s only been a month!¡±


    Bernt blinked. ¡°I¡­ you have a section for Underkeepers?¡± He did want to see that, actually.


    The librarian nodded energetically, closing his book. ¡°We do! First one in the entire country. I worked with Archmage Gren ¨C he heads our local branch ¨C to put it together earlier this year. Are you looking for work? I can introduce you. Delightful man. He operates out of the basement here ¨C there¡¯s an entrance out back, behind the tower.¡±


    ¡°No, thanks,¡± Bernt stopped the talkative man with a raised hand. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll drop in later, but we¡¯re not looking for work right now. We came down from Halfbridge. I was hoping you¡¯d have some local research on the Phoenix Reaches that our own library doesn¡¯t have copies of. Ideally anything on exotic pyromantic materials.¡± He nodded over toward Uriah. ¡°And my friend is doing some research on sorcery, especially any theoretical texts, and maybe anything about hydromancy that could be relevant to that.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm, yes... yes. A lot of interest in that kind of stuff lately.¡± The librarian stood up, peering at Uriah curiously. ¡°I heard some crazy wizard worked out how to do sorcery through an investment procedure ¨C somebody out of Halfbridge. You know him?¡±


    ¡°Ehm. I do, yes¡­¡± Uriah said uncertainly, exchanging a glance with Bernt, who raised his right hand, letting the sleeve fall back to reveal the faintly glowing lines of the sorcerous investiture under his skin. He smiled sheepishly.


    ¡°I was trying to fix some spiritual damage to my mana network. It worked, but¡­ there were side effects. My name is Bernt.¡±


    Kain leaned forward, examining Bernt¡¯s arm as if he was trying to memorize the pattern. ¡°Well, well. Now that¡¯s very interesting. Strange. Can you cast normally?¡±


    Bernt shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Not quite. It¡¯s more limited in what I can do with it. We¡¯re trying to work out if I can use it to help my friend here. If you could point him to anything that might be of use, we¡¯d really appreciate it. I¡¯d be happy to tell you about the sorcerous investiture while we do that¡­?¡±


    ¡°Right! Of course.¡± He turned around and led them down the stacks toward where Bernt had been looking earlier. As they walked, Bernt gave Kane the condensed version of how he¡¯d created his sorcerous investiture, the limits it placed on his casting and the difficulties involved with mastering its use. The librarian took them to a section vaguely labeled ¡°Monsters and Beasts¡± and, without hesitating for a moment, selected four books off the shelves. He held them out to Uriah. The top one, Bernt could see, was called Elemental Anatomy.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°These are probably your best bet for learning something about the nature of sorcery. They¡¯re mostly research notes from wizards who messed around with monsters and the odd elemental that accidentally wandered out of the Phoenix Reaches. I can¡¯t really speak to their accuracy or usefulness ¨C it was never a very rigorous area of study here in Besermark.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, okay. Thanks.¡± Uriah took the books, eying Kain as if he still expected the man to demand a sample of his mana and throw him out. When that didn¡¯t happen, he sat down in a comfortable chair that had been strategically placed into a nearby corner and opened the first book. The librarian didn¡¯t even seem to notice, continuing to ask Bernt about his experiences with sorcery so far as he led him back the way they¡¯d come.


    ¡°Do you think you could put together your notes on the subject for me? I¡¯m sure our local Wizards¡¯ Society would be delighted to see them, and I¡¯d make sure they credit you in any research they publish based on your work, of course.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ sure, I don¡¯t mind,¡± Bernt replied. ¡°But I don¡¯t really have time to copy everything ¨C I didn¡¯t use heavy paper for my notes, so duplicating them isn¡¯t a great idea.¡± He should have considered this earlier. With Besermark at war, sorcery needed to be developed as quickly as possible, both to bring burnt out war mages back into the field, and to ensure that the Mages¡¯ Guild wasn¡¯t decimated in the conflict. ¡°Could you contact Magister Pollock at the Halfbridge branch? He¡¯s my mentor, and he was involved in the project. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he understands what I¡¯m doing better than I do. He just prefers for me to figure things out on my own.¡±


    Kain grinned. ¡°A wise man. Knowledge does not a scholar make! It¡¯s about inquisitiveness, rigor, and that sweet, sweet moment of clarity when everything comes together and suddenly makes sense ¨C the breakthrough.¡± He took a deep breath as if savoring a smell and then sighed contentedly.


    ¡°Right¡­¡± Bernt replied, ¡°I suppose.¡±


    Arriving at the pyromancy section, Kain quickly pulled out a handful of books, including two with covers and spines that were entirely blank. Was he using a spell to locate them?


    ¡°Here are research notes on known pyromantic materials of the Phoenix Reaches by our own local wizards. I¡¯d refer you to the actual researchers, except that the Illurians haven¡¯t let us enter the Reaches in about thirty years. Those who are still around mostly aren¡¯t in the city ¨C they travel to wherever their interests lead them.


    Bernt thanked the man, who nodded and excused himself as he settled down to read. Hopefully, he¡¯d have enough time to drop by the underkeeping section as well. Who knew what kinds of useful tips and tricks he might find?


    ***


    Iriala tapped nervously at the letter on her desk as Ed double checked the chalk markings on the floor of her office against a heavy book that he was holding open in one hand.


    ¡°This feels crazy,¡± she said. ¡°And not the fun kind of crazy, either. Are you sure this is a good idea?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be fine.¡± Ed grumbled. ¡°Morons can pull this off. Cultist morons.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but your Duergar isn¡¯t that much better than mine,¡± she retorted. ¡°What if you¡¯re misreading something?¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, and you know it. The summoning circle is in demonic glyphs, not Duergar. The book just includes a bunch of repetitive sycophantic chanting to Varamemnon, which is obviously not relevant or necessary in our case. I know how this works¡­ well enough, anyway.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± she griped. She couldn¡¯t help it if breaking century old taboos put her a little on edge. ¡°But what if you get the wrong demon?¡±


    Ed scowled. ¡°Can¡¯t really think of one we can¡¯t kill between the two of us ¨C not one that could squeeze itself into that little circle, anyway. Besides, you¡¯re the one who said we needed to do something. You want to just leave it alone, instead? Because I won¡¯t. We could transform the entire war with this. Besides, I¡¯m not going to sit on my hands while one of my people gets hunted down ¨C not when I can do something about it instead.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re right.¡± Iriala conceded, glancing down at the letter again. Ed had told her all about his time in the hells. Putting it all together with Bernt¡¯s end of the story had given her an idea ¨C she just hadn¡¯t thought they¡¯d need to begin implementation so quickly. Ideally, they would have cooperated with the Solicitors on this, but neither she nor Ed fully trusted Radast. He¡¯d stuck to the letter of his word, sure, but he hadn¡¯t played it straight with them either. He was a frustrating ally, and an asshole. Besides, they could always bring him in later, if needed.


    Ed dug a small bundle of dried herbs from his pocket and inspected it for a moment. He pursed his lips and, coming to a decision, brought it over to her desk. She could see what he was thinking, but she didn¡¯t stop him. They¡¯d had this conversation before, and it wasn¡¯t worth it.


    Holding it over the wooden surface, the old idiot cast a quick cantrip, and the part of the bundle he wasn¡¯t holding fell, minced into tiny bits. Then he grabbed a generous pinch of the mess and packed it into his pipe.


    Lighting it, he puffed on it for a moment and smacked his lips experimentally.


    ¡°I think that smokes pretty well,¡± he opined, peering into the bowl of his pipe. ¡°Not bad.¡±


    Iriala just rolled her eyes and gestured back toward the circle.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be like that, Iri.¡± Ed grinned. ¡°You have to get your enjoyment where you can.¡±


    Turning back to his work, he began a low chant. As far as she could tell, he was just saying Jori¡¯s full name over and over again, using slightly different inflections each time. As he did, she could sense him direct a small stream of mana at the circle, activating it. Most warlocks ¨C those who weren¡¯t mages ¨C would use some of their blood instead, but that was ultimately just a less efficient way to transfer mana.


    There was no dramatic light show or noise to signal when the summoning worked. One moment there was nothing, then a better than waist-high imp was standing there. A slight sulfurous smell tickled Iriala¡¯s nose. She hadn¡¯t evolved again since the last time she¡¯d seen her but she seemed¡­ older, somehow. Still, there was no mistaking her Underkeepers¡¯ robe, or the sharp-toothed grin she flashed at Ed as soon as she saw him.


    ¡°Hi Ed!¡± she looked around, and then dipped her head toward Iriala a little more warily. ¡°Great mage. No warlocks today? Were they angry that you gave me the supplies?¡±


    Ed snorted. ¡°Radast will keep his opinions to himself if he knows what¡¯s good for him.¡± He nodded toward a small crate of paper-wrapped packages that he¡¯d brought with him. ¡°I brought you some more, actually ¨C went and found that cabbage wrap vendor you told me about down by the docks.¡±


    Jori¡¯s head snapped to the packages and she pounced on them, digging out a slightly soggy-looking one, her eyes gleaming. She barely bothered to tear it open before inhaling the contents.


    ¡°Ohhh, yes!¡± she sighed around a mouthful. ¡°That¡¯s the stuff. I should introduce these to the others.¡±


    That was¡­ not normal. Iriala raised an eyebrow at Ed, who just shrugged and smiled.


    ¡°Right, anyway. We didn¡¯t just summon you to give you a care package,¡± Iriala began, picking up the letter in demonstration. ¡°It¡¯s come to my attention that a bunch of demons are prowling around Besermark, presumably hunting our expedition.¡±


    Jori nodded awkwardly as she devoured the last of the spicy cabbage wrap. ¡°And Bernt specifically, yeah. Tallash was in on it, but we killed him. My cousins told me that there are two others ¨C a hag and a shade. Bernt already knows ¨C I told him all about it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I understand you¡¯ve managed to reestablish contact over your familiar bond.¡± Iriala said a little stiffly. ¡°I¡¯d like to see if we can learn something from these pests. You see, when Ed came back from the hells and told me his story, I realized that your combined effort there might actually have given us another way to fight the Duergar ¨C provided that we can get your cooperation. If this plan turns out to be viable, your support might prove to be of critical value to the crown.¡± She paused for emphasis, looking at the imp over the rims of her glassed. ¡°The kind of value that you may be able to leverage to your advantage in any potential negotiations for that support.¡±


    The imp finally faced her fully, her red eyes fixed on her intently. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Well, we still need to convince Bernt and his friends to hunt down one of these higher ranking demons. But if he agrees to that, we want you to kill it over on your end.¡±


    Jori blinked, looking back and forth between the two archmages. ¡°How is that supposed to help you fight the Duergar? It''s one demon. I can¡¯t fight Nuros¡¯ entire army, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking.¡±


    Ed blew out a cloud of herbaceous smoke and smiled slowly. ¡°No, but I can help you kill some pretty high-ranking ones, maybe. We just want to see what the thralls do when the head gets cut off. The ones that aren¡¯t your cousins. It should throw them into chaos, right? They won¡¯t have any further obligation to Nuros or his tentacle monster boss. So, we''ll try some of the lower-ranked ones as an experiment. And if that works, we can try Nuros¡¯ direct lieutenants.¡±

 3.36 Magical Potential

    Olly crouched in the door of his rickety shanty and poured himself a drink, bottle clinking a bit too hard against the small clay cup. The cheap liquor burned on the way down.


    He was almost out.


    He¡¯d come to this place to change his life. Why break his back on the farm every day when he could make a life for himself in the city? Instead, he broke his back every day hauling processed lumber at the sawmill. For coppers. It was a pauper¡¯s wage, but it was all he could get. He was just a runaway farm hand, and unskilled workers were like fish in the sea.


    This shanty wasn¡¯t even his. Or, it hadn¡¯t been. He¡¯d just stumbled into it one night when he was piss drunk, realizing only the next morning that it was actually empty. So, he¡¯d stayed. This was it ¨C the grand city life he¡¯d always dreamed of.


    The gods hated him.


    Well, if they thought he¡¯d take it lying down, they had another thing coming. They¡¯d see ¨C they¡¯d all see.


    He took another drink. The last one. Olly peered down into the empty bottle. He didn¡¯t have the coppers for another one. He would have to go and break his back hauling more stupid lumber. For a godsdamned drink.


    A blurry figure dropped out of the steady shuffling flow of traffic and approached him. It resolved into an oddly pale dwarf with black hair, wearing a robe of all things. The damned rock muncher stopped in front of him, looking down on him with a sneer.


    ¡°¡®...the fuck do you want?!¡± Olly snapped. Little shits taking everybody¡¯s jobs. They said that in Madzhur, regular people could be smiths and masons. Not here. Nope. Humans didn¡¯t make things anymore. Here you hauled lumber, or you worked in a field. That was it, unless you got born lucky.


    The ugly creature leaned down and its eyes filled in with solid color, completely black. Olly blinked in inebriated surprise.


    ¡°Wha..?¡±


    ¡°Hail the Devourer, mortal.¡±


    Olly jerked back as if he¡¯d been hit. This was it! It was time. Finally. He pressed his forehead to the ground.


    ¡°Deeply he drinks from the well.¡±


    ***


    It was evening by the time Bernt and Uriah left the library. They¡¯d stopped to grab some lunch earlier, but they¡¯d mostly waited to share their findings. There was time to talk later, but they only had today to read.


    Bernt¡¯s reading material had been interesting in general, but not especially helpful in terms of helping him find something that might work as a bridging material for his third investiture. Still, he¡¯d taken down some notes, recording plants and animals that existed in the Phoenix Reaches that hadn¡¯t been in the books back home. There was also a crude map that showed a few landmarks in the northernmost part of the place ¨C the area closest to Gobford and along the mountains that bordered Besermark. Not that he¡¯d have time to explore them.


    Uriah, as it turned out, had better luck. He pulled out a sheaf of notes as they left the guild and waved them at Bernt.


    ¡°So, there¡¯s obviously no existing research about how to wrangle a hybrid mana network, but there¡¯s actually a lot here about how sorcerous spirits develop over time. A lot of the experiments failed, but one of the wizards here recorded the elemental development of a juvenile fire salamander about a hundred years ago. He tried to feed it different magical materials in hopes that he might be able to control its growth, or manipulate its specific abilities. He thought he might be able to make some sort of elemental war beast out of it.¡±


    Bernt blinked at Uriah in surprise. ¡°And that worked? What happened?¡±


    The hydromancer shrugged and frowned. ¡°Sort of? No. I mean¡­ just look at this!¡± He handed Bernt a page of notes. He took it and started to scan the list, but stopped almost immediately, coughing in surprise at the materials listed.


    ¡°A red dragon¡¯s scale? Live inferno flies? Who can waste that kind of gold on an experiment?! And all of these just say ¡®refused¡¯ or ¡®no results¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Not those,¡± Uriah grumped, ¡°look at the paragraph at the bottom! It did work, just not when he thought. The salamander evolved. It ate some of the materials, but not others and eventually it transformed. It started to secrete burning plasma from its skin at will.¡± Uriah handed him another page. ¡°Look over here. He immobilized the subject in a diagnostic circle and mapped its mana network. You can see the investiture the creature is using. Except it¡¯s not really an investiture at all. It wasn¡¯t derived from the specific properties of any of the things it ate, except maybe that it¡¯s still pyromantic. So, it wasn¡¯t really ¡®invested¡¯, it was grown, just like you said about the savage sorcerers in Miria. There should really be a different name for it.¡±


    ¡°Huh¡­¡± Bernt said, mind racing as he considered the implications. ¡°So, it¡¯s not using the spellforms of the materials at all. They just... eat it. And that works, apparently. But how?¡±


    ¡°The author writes that he thinks it has to do with how materials reinforce our own mana networks during the investment process. I can¡¯t guess why he thinks that, exactly. I never really cared that much about magical theory ¨C I wanted to work in agriculture. And I didn¡¯t have time to look it up.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no. I get that part. He¡¯s talking about magical potential.¡± Bernt clarified. He¡¯d studied the investment process in detail back in Halfbridge, at Pollock¡¯s insistence. ¡°It¡¯s the metaphysical, magical "substance" of a material ¨C what allows it to retain mana and have magical properties in the first place. It''s what we absorb at the end of the investment process to reinforce the spirit and get more powerful. I guess you could almost think of it like a more primitive version of a spirit, but for things instead of people.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Bernt stopped and cocked his head, thinking. ¡°You know, to extend the metaphor, you could argue that we¡¯re actually grafting a sort of proto-spirit into ourselves with each investiture. This would mean that sorcerers sort of... digest it, instead. That''s what''s confusing about all this. How is it supposed to work?¡±


    Uriah gave him an exasperated look. ¡°Why are you asking me!?¡±


    Bernt grinned, ignoring the hydromancer¡¯s lack of enthusiasm. ¡°Just thinking out loud. It ate the kinds of materials we use for investitures. But instead of doing an investment procedure, it processed and stored their magical potential to fuel the growth of its own mana network. My guess is that¡¯s a natural function of a physically manifested spirit ¨C something normal mages can¡¯t do.¡±


    ¡°But you can?¡± Uriah asked, looking doubtful.


    ¡°I don''t know. But just think of what it means if I can figure it out!¡±


    The hydromancer made a skeptical noise. ¡°You can¡¯t even try most of the materials listed here. Last time I checked, you weren¡¯t fire proof. Maybe the red dragon scale, but good luck finding one, never mind buying it.¡±


    That was going to be an issue. Fire materials were often¡­ well, on fire. But Bernt needed to understand this process. It could be key to understanding the difference between sorcerous and normal mana networks, and how they could be properly melded. If he could work it out, he might also learn how to form an augmentation with his two heterogenous investitures. Or it might offer insights for Uriah on using sorcery as a way to work around his malformed mana network.


    He would start with some of the gentler herbs that grew in the Phoenix Reaches. Those should be easy enough to find, and they couldn''t be on fire, right? Maybe they¡¯d be spicy?


    ***


    The mood was subdued back at the inn ¨C everyone knew they¡¯d be going back out on the road in the morning, and this time it would be nearly two weeks before they could hope to reach the next proper city, Goldwater. The road ran through rocky foothills at the base of the mountain range that marked the northern border of the Phoenix Reaches before descending into a valley at the headwaters of the Kusher River that ultimately led to Norhold and the border to Madzhur.


    They spent the evening stocking up on supplies, packing, and mentally preparing themselves. Regin muttered about bad omens every few minutes, which didn¡¯t help the general mood. Even Torvald seemed on edge. They all knew that the demons would be coming for them on this leg of the journey. There was only one main road, and the entire region was sparsely populated. It would be easy to prepare an ambush, and difficult to reach any kind of help.


    Estrid and Ina popped by near the end of the night to see if anyone wanted to have a pint down in the common room. The others were glad for the distraction, especially Nirlig, who practically floated after the other goblin, but Bernt declined. He wanted to take the opportunity to read over Uriah¡¯s notes in peace, and this was probably the last opportunity he¡¯d get for at least the next ten days.


    Bernt studied late into the night. He slept poorly, and rose well before dawn.


    A bad night of sleep was annoying, but at least it mean that he had time now to drop by the Mages¡¯ Guild before they left. Maybe there would be some news about Teres, or Iriala might have sent a response. He¡¯d checked the day before, to no avail.


    He got dressed and headed out into the cold, foggy streets. Predawn was just beginning to break, so he had nearly an hour before the sun rose properly.


    While most of the guild closed overnight, the scryers worked at all hours, monitoring the various communication rooms all around the country for emergency messages. Considering that the country was at war right now, they¡¯d be even more vigilant, with additional scryers on the night watch to check in with other guilds and the occasional military communication station more often.


    The office was quiet when Bernt got there, but he could see light shining out from underneath the door behind the receptionist¡¯s desk. He cleared his throat and knocked on the polished wood surface.


    ¡°Coming!¡± someone called from behind the door. A second later, a grumpy-looking bald man in early middle age appeared, striding out energetically.


    ¡°Can I help you? Do you know what time it is?¡±


    Bernt cleared his throat. ¡°Yes, sorry. I couldn¡¯t really make time later.¡± He pulled Iriala¡¯s chip out of his pocket and held it out. ¡°I wanted to see if there were any news about Teres, and whether there are any messages for me from Archmage Iriala in Halfbridge. I already asked them to forward it to Goldwater, but I thought I¡¯d check one more time before I go.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± the scryer accepted the token and peered at it, probably probing at it with his mana. Satisfied, he handed it back. ¡°We did get something last night.¡± He bent down, pulling open a drawer in the desk and shuffled a few papers around. ¡°Teres is doing fine, by all reports. The fighting has stopped, and the Duergar are in retreat for now. The army disengaged and let them go. Probably didn''t want to walk into a trap or overextend their supply lines or something. Ah, there it is.¡±


    The man handed Bernt a single sheet of paper. It was only a few lines of text.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Bernt hummed, accepting the note, glancing at it only briefly. ¡°They¡¯ll be back. I hope they studied our fight down underneath Halfbridge. Those bastards can be clever, and they probably have cultist infiltrators all over the city already.¡±


    The man made a vague noise of agreement and disappeared back into the other room, clearly eager to not deal with any more nosy questions. Bernt turned around, heading back down the stairs and reading the note one more time.


    Legitimator Bernard,


    If you¡¯ve already spoken to Jori, this note may be redundant. I¡¯m sending this message now in hopes of reaching you at the earliest possible time. Your familiar, with the help of her new associates, has managed to positively identify the other demons leading the attack against yourself and the expedition as a whole.


    They are a hag and a shade, both of whom your report suggests you have already met. Should you be provided with further opportunities, Archmage Thurdred and I urge you to target these demons and bring them down as soon as possible. If you do, please contact either me or your familiar directly ¨C Archmage Thurdred will then attempt to find and eliminate them permanently when they reform in the hells. For further questions, please contact your familiar.


    Archmage Iriala


    Bernt shook his head, trying to make sense of it. They¡¯d talked to Jori? Were they working with the Solicitors? How was Ed going to kill them permanently? Was he back in the hells? Worse, how were they planning to hunt down a shade and a hag when Jori was in the third hell? Wouldn''t they be in the fourth and fifth? How would they even find them?


    There were too many questions to even begin to guess at the answers, but he didn''t have time to find a quiet spot and contact Jori now. He needed to get back to the inn. It was time to go. Maybe he could arrange something when they stopped for the night ¨C assuming they weren''t ambushed again.

 3.37 A Critical Weakness

    ¡°And how, exactly, does the Mages¡¯ Guild plan to permanently destroy any demons, never mind the ones specifically stalking us?¡± high priest Hannis asked, leaning out of the carriage¡¯s window with a sneer. ¡°Have they suddenly worked out magics that escape even the gods?¡±


    Bernt had done his best to explain Iriala¡¯s plan without specifically mentioning Jori or the hells, so he supposed some skepticism was to be expected. Still, they only really needed to know their end of it.


    He hadn¡¯t been sure whether the high priests were aware of who he was ¨C specifically, that he was the Underkeeper associated with the demon that their temples had been slandering all over Halfbridge. By the sound of it, they hadn¡¯t looked into him at all. Of course, that didn¡¯t stop the high priest of Noruk from being condescending.


    ¡°They said it was an experiment,¡± Bernt explained evasively. ¡°We¡¯ll kill them if they attack us regardless, right? I just wanted to let you know that the guild would try to help keep them from coming back. Good communication is important, right?¡±


    ¡°They should spend their efforts on something more plausible,¡± Hannis grumbled, settling back into his seat. Accepting the tacit dismissal, Bernt slowed down and let the carriage pull ahead of him. He was satisfied. He¡¯d avoided contacting Jori where anyone could see so far, for fear that the priests would get wind of it. While Beseri law and Torvald would probably protect him, he didn¡¯t want to deal with the inevitable mess it would cause for the entire expedition.


    Now, that wasn¡¯t going to be a problem anymore. He could contact Jori without raising suspicion. The priests would assume he was scrying to communicate with Iriala. They didn¡¯t know he was an abysmal scryer, or that he could be talking to a demon in the first place.


    Looking around, Bernt found Estrid walking near the back alongside Elyn. The bard was showing off her flute, holding it out to demonstrate different fingerings while the other woman tried to copy her with a stick.


    The druid was a ravenously and indiscriminately curious person. She had questioned him in detail on his method for healing spiritual injury on the day they met, and only branched out from there, asking about spellforms, the theoretical principles behind runes and even what it felt like to cast spells as a mage and as a sorcerer. A few days before they¡¯d arrived in Gobford, she¡¯d convinced him to show her how to create a rune circle for spell diagnostics and spent nearly an hour trying to get it to recognize her magic as a spellform. It hadn¡¯t worked, of course. Druids didn¡¯t cast spells ¨C at least not in the same way mages did.


    Going over his notes last night, though, Bernt had begun to develop a theory about magic. Or... maybe more of a hypothesis. It was based on a hunch more than real evidence, and he needed more data from more magic users ¨C ones who weren¡¯t mages or sorcerers. Hopefully, she would indulge his curiosity, as he had hers. He waved hello as he approached the two women.


    ¡°Hey, Estrid, I wanted to ask you about something, do you have a minute?¡±


    The druid blinked and exchanged a quick glance with Elyn. ¡°Uh, yeah, okay. Sure.¡±


    Elyn grinned a little grin and excused herself, moving back toward Torvald and Uriah. What was all that about?


    Whatever. Organizing his thoughts, Bernt pulled a page of notes out of this sleeve. ¡°So, Uriah and I are working on understanding how sorcery works. Specifically, how sorcerers grow their spirits to get more powerful and to get access to new spells. I think that there¡¯s a sort of common thread there between mages and sorcerers, and I wanted to see if it applies to other magic users, too¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh. Okay, interesting!¡± Estrid said, snatching the paper from Bernt¡¯s hand and looking it over. He let her read for a moment, but then summarized it for her. ¡°The idea is that people¡¯s souls, natural spirits, and the magical potential of materials are all made of the same basic metaphysical ''stuff''. If it is, then maybe I can boil down all magical advancement to some kind of fundamental process. I mean, even demons consume souls to fuel their growth ¨C It all just seems so similar, you know? I really think I¡¯m onto something.¡±


    Estrid huffed out a laugh and smirked at him. ¡°So, what? You¡¯re going to unravel the fundamental secrets of all magic out here on the road? Being the first hybrid sorcerer isn¡¯t enough?¡±


    Bernt shook his head. ¡°No, no. I doubt it''s that simple, but I''m sure there''s something to learn here! Mostly I¡¯m just trying to understand sorcery better. My next investiture is supposed to fuse together with the two that I already have to form what we call an augmentation, which works as a singular whole. But that isn¡¯t very likely to work if I just get another normal investiture.¡± He held up his right arm, indicating the glowing pattern. ¡°I don¡¯t actually understand how the two kinds of magic relate to one another or where they intersect. If it doesn¡¯t work, I¡¯m going to have a much harder time casting a lot of my spells. I¡¯m not going to be crippled, but I¡¯d have to build up my sorcery and my magecraft separately. I¡¯d be a weaker mage than my peers, at least temporarily.¡±


    "Sounds serious," the druid said, raising an eyebrow, ¡°but what do you think I can tell you? We don¡¯t shape our spirits like you do.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Bernt said, ¡°That¡¯s the question. I mean, I know you can¡¯t induct me into the druidic mysteries, but the critical question is, do you add anything to your spirit as you develop? Any rituals or procedures involving magical materials or animals, pacts with spirits, or anything like that?¡±


    Estrid shook her head and suppressed a smile. ¡°No. Nothing like that. I know there are a lot of stereotypes about us doing rituals around a fire in the woods at night, but that¡¯s not how it works at all. Druidism is about building a connection to nature. We use our spirits for magic, but it¡¯s just a catalyst. The power doesn¡¯t actually come from us at all. We¡¯re¡­ well, you could say that we convince mana to move around and do things for us.¡±


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Bernt opened his mouth, stopped and then closed it again, frowning. He wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d expected, but this wasn¡¯t it. What did that even mean?


    ¡°You don¡¯t develop your spirit at all? You don''t add any new magical potential?¡± he asked, incredulous. ¡°Wait, what makes someone an Archdruid, then? How can you be more powerful than anybody else if there¡¯s no fundamental growth?¡±


    Estrid snorted a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. ¡°I just told you. It¡¯s about influence. An Archdruid has a lot more of it and they can do more with it. I can coax mana into a seed and make it grow. I¡¯m working on doing more, but it¡¯s fair to say that I¡¯m about as versatile as the seeds I have. Archdruid Leirin isn¡¯t that restricted. He can make living plants mobile, guide their growth with his mind and imbue them with specific properties. Really powerful archdruids can even grow plants with elemental properties at will. It¡¯s rare, but I''ve seen it.¡±


    Bernt made a thoughtful sound, considering that. ¡°Ah¡­ right. You know, I think I¡¯ve actually seen him do that, now that you mention it.¡± He hadn¡¯t really thought of it that way¡­ but the vines lighting the Undercity would qualify, right? They were probably a magical material in their own right.


    ¡°It still sounds like they do have something to do with the same forces.¡± Bernt thought out loud. Imbuing a plant with magic would mean giving it magical potential ¨C a spirit of sorts. Unless the druids were inserting bits of themselves, they had to get that magical potential from somewhere. Estrid shrugged her shoulders.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± she allowed. ¡°We don¡¯t really experience magic the same way, so it¡¯s hard to say.¡±


    It would be another interesting avenue to explore, but he didn¡¯t have the time or resources to go off chasing every tangent that presented itself. Druids didn¡¯t work like mages or sorcerers, but this didn¡¯t invalidate his theory. It just showed that there were a lot of different ways to use magic. If he couldn¡¯t learn any more, he would just have to learn as much as he could from his experiments in the Reaches and then go with his best guess. Wizards had to take risks ¨C this was what it meant to break new ground. If it didn¡¯t work out, he would just have to find a new way forward. At least he probably wouldn¡¯t truly stall his growth permanently.


    ¡°You know¡­¡± Estrid said slowly. ¡°If you really want to figure this out, you should try to teach me how to cast spells.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Bernt blinked at her owlishly. ¡°Is that even allowed?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± she asked innocently. ¡°It¡¯s interesting, and it¡¯s not a secret, right? Hedge mages exist, and they don¡¯t go to the academy. You said druids and mages are born with the same talent ¨C we can both sense and manipulate mana. So why shouldn¡¯t I be able to learn how to cast spells?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Bernt said eloquently. ¡°I mean¡­ that¡¯s true. I¡¯ve never heard of any cross-discipline casters, though. I always thought something about being a druid prevented it.¡±


    Estrid shrugged. ¡°We don¡¯t have mages where I grew up, I don¡¯t know. But we might still learn something, right? We could at least ask Leirin ¨C he might know something about it.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a terrible idea, even if he doubted that it would work. Leirin might at least be able to tell them something about what actually separated druidism from magecraft.


    ¡°Yeah, alright," he said. "It¡¯s worth asking about, at least.¡±


    ***


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to work.¡± Leirin said bluntly. The three of them were pacing a circle around their camp for the night in what was now a well-practiced process. Estrid raised her clingweeds nearest to the camp, while Leirin threw small caltrop-like seeds just beyond.


    The terrain here wasn¡¯t suited to Uriah and Leirin¡¯s living swamp-moat defenses. There was little soil here to hold water, and the gradient would likely result in moisture seeping into the camp itself, regardless. Bernt and his low wall of cold fire now formed the outermost ring of their defenses. Ideally, any attackers would be burned first and then delayed by the pointy seeds and the clingweed, alerting the sentries and buying them as much time as possible to respond.


    ¡°We guessed that, but why doesn¡¯t it work?¡± he asked. ¡°If we have the same essential gift, what keeps you from using it like I do?¡±


    Bernt was glad to get a real response from the normally taciturn man at all, but since he already had him talking¡­


    ¡°It¡¯s inherent to what we are.¡± Leirin explained with a small sigh. ¡°The mages probably have a needlessly complicated way to explain it, but it¡¯s actually pretty simple. Mages turn their spirits inward. You pull mana in from the world and then channel it back out in a new shape to cast a spell. Druids face outward. Our spirits are connected to the world and guide the mana that¡¯s already there. It''s not a secret.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you can¡¯t hold mana?¡± Bernt said, realizing the problem. ¡°Not at all?¡±


    Leirin shrugged. ¡°We don¡¯t need to, it¡¯s all around us, after all.¡± He frowned over at Estrid. ¡°You should have been able to put that together yourself.¡±


    The younger druid shook her head, not satisfied. ¡°I knew that ¨C but I don¡¯t see how that should stop us from casting spells. Why don¡¯t we just shape the mana outside ourselves? If we can shape it into a spellform, we can cast a spell, right?¡±


    ¡°You could.¡± Leirin said tiredly. ¡°If you could shape it so precisely. You can try, but I think you¡¯d be the first. Our fine control isn¡¯t anything like that of a mage. Their will translates to their mana so well because it¡¯s inside their own soul. For us, it¡¯s like tying a pen to the end of a string and trying to write with it. On the other hand, mages can¡¯t influence anything that doesn¡¯t come from their own soul. It¡¯s a huge weakness.¡±


    Estrid subsided, apparently thinking over the problem. It seemed she wasn¡¯t quite ready to give up, despite the archdruids discouragement.


    ¡°Ehm, so why is it a weakness?¡± Bernt asked, voicing the question on his mind.


    ¡°Well,¡± Leirin said, turning back the way they¡¯d just come. He waved a hand and a small section of Bernt¡¯s freshly made perpetual cold fire wall went out, the mana simply dispersed. ¡°You¡¯re practically helpless against any druid that knows what they¡¯re doing.¡±


    Bernt stared at the gap, wide-eyed. What did that mean?

 3.38 A Word of Advice

    Bernt extended his spirit into the circle and braced himself for the disorienting sensation of being in two places at once. Jori, who didn¡¯t have any prior warning, stumbled and nearly fell before she caught herself. She was running across the dead, rocky landscape of the hells flanked by several other imps.


    ¡°Finally!¡± she cried, ¡°What took you so long? I have news!¡±


    ¡°I heard.¡± Bernt said, keeping his voice low. There were a few people within earshot, but it was only Nirlig, Torvald, Ina and Estrid. The latter two didn¡¯t know about Jori, but he wasn¡¯t especially worried about them. Besides they were having a conversation of their own over dinner. ¡°I got Iriala¡¯s message. Can you really do it?¡±


    Jori shrugged confidently and picked up her pace again to catch up with the other imps. They were getting away from her. ¡°Sure. I don¡¯t really know that we can kill a shade, but I don¡¯t think Ed will have any trouble.¡±


    ¡°But how will you even find them? I thought they would be off in their own¡­ places.¡±


    Bernt felt Jori grin viciously. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about that. That¡¯s the easy part ¨C I¡¯m very sneaky. I just sent Faedris to go and ask where to find them. With Tallash dead, nobody is going to be suspicious about one of his imps looking for protection. Everyone knew they all worked under Zijeregh together.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s going to work?¡± Bernt asked skeptically.


    ¡°We already found the hag, Roaznis. We¡¯ll reach her position in a few days ¨C she¡¯s supposed to guard a confluence with the fourth hell when she¡¯s here, on this side. Faedris and Maladzhoth just walked into one of Varamemnon¡¯s outposts and asked. The demon in charge tried to coerce them into service, but a bit of hellfire to the face set her straight. It was easy!¡±


    It didn¡¯t sound easy. ¡°Just be careful, alright?¡±


    Jori rolled her eyes. ¡°The great mages check in every day. When we get there, I¡¯m going to grab Ed and let him flatten the entire place. If the hag isn¡¯t there, we might just do it ourselves and then set a nice trap for her when she returns from the mortal plane. They¡¯ll never stand a chance.¡±


    Bernt grunted in what wasn¡¯t quite agreement, but he tried to mirror the confidence she felt as he withdrew his spirit. Then he broke the portal circle, smudging the carefully chalked runes. Stepping back over to the others by the fire, he noticed a new arrival ¨C Xul¡¯evareg was sitting with Estrid, who was talking animatedly to the old goblin.


    ¡° ¨C it¡¯s all the same thing, right? I mean, a spirit is a spirit whether it¡¯s got a body or not, and that¡¯s your area of focus. Do you know if that¡¯s really how it works?¡±


    The shaman frowned and gave a sort of half-nod. ¡°I speak to the spirits, I understand them. But it¡¯s not the same. I don¡¯t try to change them or tell them what to be. I don¡¯t tell them what to eat, or watch them do it. Many spirits just like normal things ¨C like anybody. It¡¯s not all about power and magic. They like to experience new things, or to just enjoy familiar comforts.¡±


    Bernt sat down, eyeing the two of them. He could guess what Estrid was talking about ¨C she wanted to understand magical potential, to see if his ideas were any good. As it happened, he wanted to know about that, too.


    ¡°Do you know anything about how spirits grow naturally?¡± he asked. Maybe he should have talked to a shaman sooner. For all he knew, Xul¡¯evareg could simply tell him what it took to bridge the differences inside his own mana network.


    Xul¡¯evareg hummed, looking him over. ¡°Not like you, that¡¯s for sure. You have an unbalanced aura. A piece of your spirit is living fire, manifested in the world. That makes you an elemental ¨C or a small piece of one. The rest of you is... off, a little. But that''s normal for mages. In nature, this does not happen ¨C it can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Is that bad?¡±


    The goblin frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but it¡¯s unnatural. If a spirit changes, then it does it all in one piece, to maintain its balance and sense of self. People are more than just a spirit, we have bodies and our minds, so we can do things differently. But I wouldn¡¯t say that makes it a good idea.¡±


    ¡°Right, okay.¡± Bernt said, uncertainly, ¡°But how can I find the balance, as you said? I think I need another material that will bridge the gap between the two investitures I already have, but I have no idea exactly what I¡¯m looking for.¡±


    The shaman cut him off with a forceful shake of her head. ¡°No! A spirit is one thing. One. If you want balance, you have to unify it. I can¡¯t tell you how to do something like that, but sticking more foreign bits into the essence of your being is not going to work.¡±


    Bernt grimaced and shook his head uncertainly. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Mages do try to achieve balance. In a way, at least between our different investitures. They have to be able to fuse together as a greater whole, or we end up weakened. If they don¡¯t match up properly, it doesn¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like foolishness to me,¡± Xul¡¯evareg said. ¡°But it¡¯s fire. If you want to learn more about fire spirits, you should go and talk to one.¡± She pointed south, toward the mountain range that separated them from the Phoenix Reaches. ¡°Something that all spirits have over us mortals is that they understand themselves. You can learn something if you listen, maybe.¡±


    Bernt looked out toward where she was pointing. The sky behind the mountains was tinged red, as if by the first light of dawn. It hadn''t sounded like the whole place was on fire in his books, but that made him doubt. Maybe it was a storm? The burning rain would probably make enormous fires. But that wasn''t the point right now, he had more urgent questions.


    ¡°I can just go and talk to an elemental? How? And where would I even find one?¡± The entire suggestion seemed ridiculous. They were literal forces of nature, you couldn¡¯t just stop by for a chat. Besides, they weren''t even really the same sort of spirits as those the Goblins worshipped ¨C elementals always manifested physically. But apparently their shamans didn''t really see it that way. Bernt had already been planning to summon a flame sprite ¨C but a tiny elemental like that didn¡¯t even have a will of its own, much less a mind capable of complex thought. Could he maybe summon something more substantial? But how? And how would he keep it from incinerating him on the spot?


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The goblin shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not so complicated. Spirits can always make themselves understood if you bother to listen. The hard part is communicating back. If you want to find one, you just go and look. Intelligent creatures all behave alike in certain ways. They go to places that make sense to them. If you can understand them, you can find them.¡±


    Bernt looked over at the others. Nirlig and Ina had somehow disappeared in the last few minutes, but Estrid nodded at him encouragingly. ¡°Elementals aren¡¯t inherently violent. They get a bad reputation, mostly because they are inherently dangerous and people are stupid.¡±


    He let out a small sigh and nodded. ¡°Alright, I guess since I¡¯m already going to the Reaches... assuming I can find an intelligent fire elemental to talk to.¡±


    ***


    The night passed uneventfully, making it the first time they hadn¡¯t been attacked the day after leaving a major city. Still, the reprieve didn¡¯t do much for morale.


    The sentries spotted movement more than once, and Ksuwa and Ina found tracks around the campsite in the morning ¨C claw marks, human-sized boots, and less identifiable marks. Some were fresh, and others at least a day old. They were being followed, but the enemy was ahead of them as well.


    There was nothing for it but to go on. There were no alternate routes around the Sunset Range. But they weren¡¯t attacked that night either, or the one after. Still, the general mood continued to sour. People began snapping at each other, and Emata had to step in once, when one of the remaining Halfbridge adventurers tried to pick a fight with Ksuwa.


    The terrain grew drier every day, until nothing but a few weeds poked out of the rocky landscape. Massive boulders began to appear here and there, growing denser as they progressed and casting shadows down on the road which wound around the enormous obstacles and slowed their progress.


    ¡°Do you think that shade is following us on the march?¡± Bernt asked Uriah one night. They were conjuring water for the camp ¨C or rather Uriah was. Bernt had barely managed to fill a single cooking pot in the time that the hydromancer refilled canteens, waterskins, pots, and even a washbasin.


    The others were setting up several circles of stones for fires. There was no fuel to burn here, so Bernt was going to set up several of his improvised campfire spells. Everyone was on edge, and they had been for days now. The circumstances warranted it, but he was starting to wonder if it was all just a bit too much.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Uriah asked, putting a stopper in a waterskin. ¡°You think there¡¯s a demon here?¡±


    ¡°Not right here, but close. It¡¯s like the shades in Halfbridge, during the siege.¡± Bernt explained. ¡°They were influencing people¡¯s emotions, making them scared. It felt just like it does right now¡­¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. We¡¯re being stalked by a bunch of demons. You can¡¯t expect anybody to be cheerful and relaxed. Don¡¯t you think someone would have seen something?¡±


    Bernt shrugged. ¡°Not necessarily. Almost nobody actually saw them in Halfbridge. Count Narald ended up hiring the Bards¡¯ Guild to play all around the city to counteract them. I was in the Undercity for most of it, but you could really tell the difference. Do you think I should talk to Elyn? Maybe she could help.¡±


    Uriah looked around at the shadows suspiciously, as if trying to catch a glimpse of it right then. ¡°Yeah, sure. I guess.¡±


    Hefting his single pot of water, Bernt carried it over to one of the unlit fire rings, where Elyn, Torvald and Regin were cutting up a few wrinkly vegetables and a large chunk of the late Kanan¡¯s salt pork on a board that they¡¯d lifted out of the side of one of the wagons. Olias sat nearby and watched, not doing anything useful that Bernt could see.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, it was right over there when I picked up that rock for the fire,¡± Regin pointed. ¡°It was a scorpion. It was eating another scorpion.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s that supposed to mean, exactly?¡± Olias asked. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask. He seemed amused more than annoyed by Regin¡¯s superstition. Bernt did his best to ignore the young nobleman ¨C he was tired of hearing how every cloud or bush was somehow an omen of impending doom.


    ¡°It¡¯s a powerful expression of treachery.¡± the young Baron explained. ¡°One of our own is going to betray us.¡±


    Bernt narrowly managed not to roll his eyes. Olias took a swig from his flask and made a face as he swallowed the hard liquor.


    ¡°You know, I have to ask. With such insight, how is it that you even got appointed as a legitimator ¨C or that you accepted?¡± he asked, frowning. He gestured grandly at their surroundings. ¡°One would think that you would have foreseen the danger.¡±


    Regin¡¯s eyes flicked around the camp nervously, the sarcasm entirely lost on him. ¡°It¡¯s no safer at home ¨C the signs follow me wherever I go. Besides, I¡¯m a ranking member of the Mercantile Guild ¨C one of the only nobles represented. An opportunity to work directly with the Temple of Balarian wasn¡¯t something I could pass up. And my mother urged me to accept.¡±


    ¡°Your mother¡­?¡± Olias asked, clearly surprised. Then his eyes lit up in understanding and his expression grew a bit more sympathetic. ¡°Ah, I see. Inherited your title young, and the dowager Baroness steps in to take on the load. Don¡¯t want the little lord to cock up the entire barony, right? You grow up a few years, start to assert yourself a little and next thing you know you¡¯re being shipped off to Halfbridge to babysit a priestess. Have I got it right?¡±


    Regin frowned bitterly. It was confirmation enough that Olias had hit a nerve.


    ¡°I guess she might think that, but she¡¯ll see,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°They all will. Angjou is a high priestess from the Temple of Balarian. I know what I¡¯m doing. I met with a lot of important people in Halfbridge. People I wouldn¡¯t have met if I hadn¡¯t gone. We¡¯ll see what they have to say when we¡¯ve got a temple sitting right on the Hilltower square. We¡¯re a good location, now that Loamfurth is gone.¡±


    Olias sighed and leaned forward, catching Regin¡¯s eye. ¡°Look at me, boy. You don¡¯t have to prove anything to anybody ¨C especially not to a usurper of a mother. You have the money and the title to choose who you want to be and what you want to do. The sooner you learn it, the happier you will be. Take it from a man who¡¯s been around for a few years.¡±


    Regin grimaced and returned to cutting meat without answering. Olias shook his head and let him be.


    Bernt cleared his throat and turned to Elyn, changing the subject. ¡°Hey, do you think you could play something on your flute to counteract mental magic? Or just to lift people¡¯s mood? I think the demons might be doing something to us. Have you noticed how dour everyone¡¯s been on the road? It was bad even before we got to Gobford.¡±


    The half-elf looked around musingly, taking in the general mood as if just now noticing. After a moment, she shrugged and wiped her hands on her colorful pants. ¡°Sure, why not? A bit of music will do us all good. You want to take over here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll send Nirlig over as soon as I find him.¡± Bernt promised. ¡°I need to light the fires.¡±


    Bernt cast his enlarged perpetual torch spell into the circle of stones at his feet and heaved the cooking pot onto the flattest of the rocks to heat up. As he moved to the next one, cheerful flute music began to drift over the camp. From one step to the next, Bernt felt like a weight had lifted off of his chest, letting him breathe easier. He even gained a spring in his step, only then realizing that he¡¯d been literally dragging his heels.


    Conversation started up around the camp, and Bernt heard someone laugh. He lit another fire near the wagons and turned to go when he heard a giggle from nearby. He looked down, following the sound, and found two pairs of goblin-sized boots poking out from underneath a wagon.


    Bernt took a few hurried steps back before turning and moving on, shaking his head. He¡¯d cut the damned vegetables himself.

 3.39 A Rock and a Hard Place

    The valley continued to narrow as they progressed, and the land grew even drier. Tiny wisps of cloud passed by high overhead, but for the most part, the mountains kept this stretch of land as dead as the hells themselves.


    The demons probably felt right at home here.


    The road was old and rough here, though it had clearly been maintained. Someone had repaired the potholes, but they hadn¡¯t bothered to bring proper paving stones. Instead, unworked stones from the surrounding landscape had been set into the road. It worked, but it was rough on the carriage and the wagons.


    Leirin and Olias had gotten out a league or so back, opting for a bit of exercise over the bruising ride. The priests were either too proud or too out of shape to walk.


    About an hour before noon, Ina appeared, waving to them, and jogged toward them from behind some boulders up ahead. Bernt was walking near the front with Estrid, just a few steps behind Emata and Leirin. The druid was quizzing him about spellforms ¨C she hadn¡¯t given up on the idea of casting spells. He was trying to explain how the shape and orientation of the outer shell with respect to the central rune or glyph could modulate the size and mana density of the spell, but he stopped to listen as the goblin approached.


    ¡°People up ahead!¡± she called. ¡°Looks like a broken down trader. Ksuwa is keeping an eye on them.¡±


    Emata frowned. ¡°They¡¯re lucky they haven¡¯t been noticed, yet. No sign of demons anywhere?¡±


    The scout shrugged. ¡°Nothing I could see. It¡¯s too rocky here to be sure, though ¨C nowhere to leave tracks. We should probably give them a hand, but we ought to hurry. I don¡¯t think the demons are going to be understanding and ignore them. They won¡¯t survive very long this close to us, certainly not through the night.¡±


    The soldier nodded in agreement. ¡°We¡¯ll see if we can¡¯t get them moving again and offer to let them join us behind our defenses. I¡¯ll talk to the priests, but I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll agree.¡±


    Bernt watched her go, noting with a bit of second-hand irritation that nobody ever asked Torvald for his opinion. It was his expedition just as much as theirs. The high priests, or at least the Temple of Eyeli, had arranged for him to be pulled into all this, but none of them actually seemed to value his input. He¡¯d known from an early age that the rich and well-connected liked to treat everyone they saw as beneath them like dirt ¨C but Torvald wasn¡¯t beneath them. Not really. He didn¡¯t have a title, and his family wasn¡¯t terribly wealthy, but he was very well connected. The king¡¯s own brother was here, for the gods¡¯ sakes.


    It was, he supposed, the price of refusing to play political games. Torvald himself didn¡¯t seem interested in addressing the disrespect he was being shown, so there was little point in Bernt getting involved.


    The traveling merchant came into view just a few minutes later, as they rounded a bend. It was a small cart, drawn by a donkey. Its single axle was broken, one wheel hanging at a crazy angle from the splintered wood.


    Bernt could see as they approached that the merchant had clearly also seen better days. Her cloak had holes in it, and the two guards looked more like bandits than reputable mercenaries. Their spears had rust on the tips and their armor was ill-fitting and damaged in places. Ksuwa stood a few paces away, perched on a boulder to keep an eye on their surroundings. They watched her and the approaching expedition warily.


    ¡°Hello!¡± Captain Emata called out and waved, obviously trying to look friendly. ¡°Looks like you could use a little help, there.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± the woman hummed with a sour frown, ¡°depends on what that¡¯s going to cost me. I¡¯m not hauling gold, here, you know.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± the soldier replied with an easy smile. ¡°I think we can manage a spare axle. There are demons running around out here. They¡¯re after us, so we¡¯d be remiss to leave you out here exposed. You can camp behind our defenses tonight, if you like.¡±


    The merchant scowled. Obviously, she''d misinterpreted Emata¡¯s words. ¡°Right. Demons. Not Bandits, today? And I¡¯m sure we have a choice in the matter ¨C your goons there are just for show? I¡¯m sure.¡± she spat on the ground. ¡°Well I haven¡¯t got anything for you to ¡®appropriate¡¯ in exchange for your generous protection. Just move along!¡±


    The two guards gripped the hafts of their spears tightly and exchanged a nervous glance. Emata rolled her eyes and turned away, marching back a few steps toward the carriage. She exchanged a few words with the priests inside. Olias, Bernt saw, had backed up to one of the wagons. He was refilling his flask from a larger bottle with a look of concentration. Several of the adventurers had started to pull out food and drink, taking advantage of the short stop to rest and eat something. Ina and Estrid had cornered Uriah and were trying to get him to refill their canteens ¨C the sun was high in the sky, and it was starting to get surprisingly warm.


    Finally, the carriage started moving as the driver pulled it up next to the broken-down cart. The doors opened and Surin stepped out, followed by Hannis and Angjou.


    Unlike the adventurers, the priests couldn¡¯t be mistaken for anything but what they were. Angjou murmured something to the scared merchant, who gave a tight nod, and then signaled to her guards. One moved off, following Emata back to one of the wagons where they stored their tools.


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    The other moved to the back of the cart and began fiddling with the merchandise. They¡¯d probably need to unload everything to make it easier to get the broken axle out, and the new one on.


    Having reassured the merchant, the priests turned to climb back into their carriage. In that moment, Bernt saw her expression change. Her jaw flexed and her lips peeled back in a rictus. Her hand shot up, light glinting off of metal ¨C a knife.


    ¡°Watch out!¡± someone shouted, and an arrow suddenly sprouted from the merchant¡¯s chest. But she hadn¡¯t been moving to attack priests. Eyes bulging, she slashed the blade across her own throat. Blood sprayed. Almost by reflex, Bernt activated his thornskin amulet, getting ready to fight.


    For a fatal second, everyone watched, bewildered as the red liquid seemed to condense, forming shapes in mid-air before settling on the ground in a pattern. Those were glyphs, Bernt realized. Demonic glyphs.


    In that frozen instant, Bernt knew that they had screwed up. They¡¯d let themselves be distracted by a ruse, and they hadn¡¯t reacted in time. Hannis was looking over his shoulder at the commotion, but Surin and Angjou were already in the carriage. Leirin was staring stupidly up from where he¡¯d been examining the damaged cart. Nobody was going to be fast enough.


    Someone was shouting back by the carts ¨C a lot of someones. The demons were here. It was all a trick. Bernt held out his right hand and began to cast banefire. He''d need to kill them quickly. A flash of red-orange light burned his eyes and he stumbled, losing his footing as he was struck by a wall of burning air. Something whacked him in the back of the head and his vision went white.


    He lost track of everything for a moment.


    That... that was going to hurt, he thought dazedly. Shouldn¡¯t that hurt?


    No, no. He had his amulet. It had protected him. Somewhat. Thoughts gelled together in his mind, forming far too slowly.


    He should be dead right now.


    Bernt''s face hurt. Had he hit his face? What was going on?


    There was noise all around him. Growls, screams and howls. People were fighting. They were fighting the demons. Right.


    Bernt started casting banefire again, even before he blinked his eyes open. There were rocks in front of him. Just rocks ¨C and it was hot. Head hammering, he heaved himself up to a sitting position. It was utter carnage. Bodies lay around him ¨C most too badly burned to recognize. Still, Bernt knew that the charred mess under the blackened cart would be Leirin.


    There were bodies in the carriage, too.


    Bernt finished shaping his spellform, but still, he didn¡¯t have a target. Turning his head painfully, he caught sight of the battle. Torvald had his sword out and struck at two demons that were trying to take him on together. Before the smaller of the two could get behind him, though, Nirlig skewered it on his spear. The one in front of Torvald was a tall, hunched over woman with long, stringy hair.


    It was the hag. She swung at him with clawed, too-long arms and shrieked, but the aural attack was canceled by Elyn¡¯s strange tuning fork. Torvald tried to take off the thing¡¯s arm, but she was too fast and he missed, striking a rock instead with a sharp pinging noise. He raised his sword for another strike, only to find that nearly half of it was missing. The tip of the blade had shattered against the stone.


    Bernt released his spell. The bolt of gray fire crossed the intervening distance in less than a second, boring a hole clear through the hag¡¯s torso and setting her on fire. She shrieked in pain and flailed, going down a moment later. That second scream, Bernt noted absently, hadn¡¯t had any magic to it. Curious.


    Torvald looked up in surprise, meeting Bernt¡¯s eyes. Then his gaze locked on something behind him and he opened his mouth to shout. Bernt didn¡¯t wait to see what he said. He threw himself to the ground and activated his belt as something big wooshed over his head.


    He looked up and swung blindly with his fist just in time to see a heavy rock come at his face much too quickly.


    Bernt struck only air, but his attacker didn¡¯t.


    ***


    ¡°I just saw him,¡± Torvald cried. ¡°If they took him, he¡¯s still nearby. We have to find him!¡±


    The demons¡¯ attack had weakened significantly after Bernt had killed that hag, and they were running now, just a minute or so later. Still, it was too late for most of them. Everyone near the cart ¨C the priests, Leirin, and Ksuwa ¨C had been killed instantly as far as he could tell. Bernt must have used a spell or something to keep from being instantly cooked like the rest of them. The guard who¡¯d followed Emata to the wagons had stabbed her in the back before anyone could intervene. Tarik, who¡¯d survived being gutted just a few weeks ago, had his throat torn out by a gangly white-furred apelike demon.


    They were lucky so many of them had been back by the wagons. Still, the demons had picked off several more in the ambush that followed. If the hellspawn had been more disciplined fighters, this might have been it for the entire expedition. Not that they were in good shape as it was. Only nine of them were still on their feet, including Regin and, by some miracle, his great uncle Olias. Elyn and Xul¡¯Evareg were more suited to support than direct combat, meaning they had just five capable fighters left.


    ¡°We can¡¯t go around hunting through these rocks all day.¡± Xul¡¯evareg reasoned, gesturing at massive boulder field all around them. ¡°And we definitely can¡¯t split up to cover more ground. They¡¯ll pick us off easily. We need to get moving away from here as quickly as possible, before they regroup!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t just leave him behind ¨C he could still be alive!¡± Torvald retorted angrily. ¡°Besides, we need him to make camp at night. Estrid¡¯s the only one left, otherwise. Do you think her plants are going to keep us safe at half-strength? Against more attacks like that?¡±


    The old goblin sighed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter ¨C it will have to do. We won''t be tricked a second time. Now, we need to move quickly and hope that they can¡¯t keep up. We¡¯ll leave the wagons and the carriage and load some supplies on the surviving horses to make better time. If we go through the night, we might be able to escape. They can''t attack us if they can''t keep up.¡±


    ¡°I saw one of the cultists brain him with a rock ¨C right over there,¡± Nirlig added quietly from behind Torvald. The paladin turned to find the goblin pointing over to where he¡¯d seen Bernt before. ¡°If they took him, it was probably to prove his identity to their leader. They were after him, remember? The shaman is right, we have to move.¡±


    The paladin opened his mouth to protest again, but Xul¡¯evareg reached up to grip his shoulder. ¡°We¡¯ve all lost friends today, but if we want to live long enough to grieve, we need to be gone from here.¡±


    Torvald turned around one more time, scanning the rocks. But there wasn¡¯t anything to see.

 3.40 Wait Up!

    Bernt tasted blood in his mouth. His face burned, and something was pulling on his leg, dragging him across the ground. Rocks scraped across his back and head painfully ¨C both had been scraped raw. He kicked weakly as he tried to blink his eyes open.


    To his surprise, he connected with something and his captor lost his grip, stumbling forward with a curse.


    It was a human ¨C one of the guards from the cart. Addled as he was, Bernt barely had time to register this information before he heard a shout and a foot planted itself firmly in his stomach. The breath wooshed out of him and he choked for a moment, trying to draw it back in.


    ¡°Tough son of a bitch, aren¡¯t you?¡± the guard spat, walking a few steps away and squatting down and out of sight for a moment. ¡°I thought I already took care of you.¡± He popped back up, carrying a heavy rock. ¡°That¡¯s what I get for rushing. But there wasn¡¯t time, see? One of the others would have got you first.¡± He planted another kick in Bernt¡¯s ribs, who could only choke and retch in pain, too addled to do anything useful.


    What the hells was this asshole blathering about?


    It all was just too surreal, like it was happening to someone else. As if he were watching from outside.


    ¡°Not on my watch!¡± the cultist ranted. ¡°No, the master¡¯s going to make me rich. More than a man can spend on a bit of liquor! Got to be careful though. Don¡¯t want to break your face too much, now. Don''t want to lose the prize.¡±


    He raised the rock high, poised to bring it down on Bernt¡¯s head, or maybe his chest. Bernt gritted his teeth. This asshole was going to kill him, a wizard and a pyromancer, with a rock. Hells, he had nearly killed him already.


    Bernt was too addled to cast, he could barely even think, but he knew that this wasn''t how he was going to die. It was just too stupid, too anticlimactic after everything he''d been through. It wasn''t supposed to go like this. With a grunt of effort, he rolled to his left side, swung his right hand around and forced power out through it with all the rage and desperation he could muster. A torrent of liquid white fire enveloped the man¡¯s chest and neck and he reeled back, screaming and trying to slap at the flames.


    For a moment, Bernt just watched groggily. You couldn¡¯t smother manaburn. Sure, it wouldn¡¯t burn him from the inside, like it did mages, but it was still fire. Liquid fire that would burn forever.


    His fury drained away, quickly replaced by unease. This monster of a person had killed his friends ¨C several of his acquaintances, at least. But there was really no way to feel good about watching someone slowly burn to death. Not if you weren''t absolutely crazy. He should probably put the asshole out of his misery.


    Slowly, so slowly, Bernt heaved himself up into a proper sitting position. The guard was on the ground now, rolling back and forth. His screams were starting to sound grotesquely bubbly. Bernt managed to get his hands on the rock, but he couldn¡¯t lift it. He was too weak.


    The screams stopped.


    Bernt sat back, just taking a moment to breathe. That was just as well. With a thought, he extinguished the flames, dispersing the mana that held it together back into the environment. Then he rose to his feet unsteadily, doing his best not to look at the smoking corpse.


    His head was pounding in time with his heartbeat, but there was no time to rest. He needed to get back to the others as quickly as possible, before the demons found him. Assuming, of course, that the others had made it.


    But it didn¡¯t matter now, he had to try ¨C he couldn¡¯t let himself get caught out here alone overnight. Looking around, Bernt tried to orient himself. He could see the Sunset Range across the valley from him, so he was sitting on the slope north of the road. Where had that guard been dragging him? And how long had he been out?


    Stumbling slowly downhill, Bernt felt his sleeves for his wand. It was gone. He didn¡¯t even have any supplies. His bag was gone as well, probably back at the wagons. How far was it?


    As it turned out, not very far. It was slow going, but barely five minutes later, Bernt stepped around a boulder to find himself back on the road. There was a body just a few steps away, sprawled across the worn stones. It was a demon of some kind, colored a deep black with wings and a long tail ¨C not a type he¡¯d ever seen before. To his right, the road ran relatively straight for at least a quarter of a league, and it was empty. The others must have passed this way after the ambush, killing the stray demon on their way. It couldn¡¯t have been very long ago, but he wouldn¡¯t be able to catch up to anyone in his current condition.


    He turned left.


    The nearest bend wasn¡¯t far, but it took Bernt another couple of minutes to get there. His head hurt terribly, and he had deep bruises on his back and neck that made it painful to move, now that the adrenaline had worn off. He was slowing down, but he could smell the charred wood from the burnt-out carriage. It couldn''t be far now.


    What he wouldn¡¯t give for a healing potion. He had to hope his bag was still there. In the worst case, he¡¯d have to hope one of the dead bodies had an unbroken one on them ¨C assuming the others hadn¡¯t cleaned them out.


    The sight that greeted him around the bend was even worse than he remembered. The carriage was a wreck, its metal frame warped visibly by the incredible heat of the hellfire that the strange cultist "merchant" had summoned. The bodies were similarly twisted and shrunken ¨C not just the people, but also the two horses that had been pulling it. Bernt stepped past them, finding the spot where he¡¯d landed after the cultist¡¯s spell had blown him backward and let out a sigh of relief.


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    His bag lay on the ground right where he¡¯d fallen, the top flap thrown back and only slightly singed along the edges. He must have been shielding it with his body ¨C Grixit had really outdone himself with that fire resistance on his robes. Could it really have worked that well? Bernt looked down at his hands. His right was completely fine, but the left was red, as if from a sunburn. He could barely feel it over all his other aches and pains. That explosion should have turned at least his unprotected hand into cinders. But... that was something to consider another day.


    He picked up the bag and checked the contents. Everything looked like it was in order. Pulling out a minor healing potion, he downed it and sighed with relief as the pain in his head and his neck eased.


    It wouldn¡¯t fix him up very quickly, but he¡¯d be back to normal within a few hours, as long as he didn¡¯t strain himself too hard. He should at least give the crappy potion a few minutes head start before he pushed himself, though. Heaving himself to his feet, Bernt checked the now horseless wagons for anything he might be able to use.


    The others had left a lot of the supplies, which made sense considering they hadn¡¯t taken the wagons. The tools, quite a bit of the food, a rope, and a few packs and bags that had belonged to the dead, though it was clear that someone had already rummaged through them, probably to grab any healing potions or other critical supplies. Kanan¡¯s barrel of salt pork was still there and Bernt got excited for a moment, but it was empty. They¡¯d taken the contents along, probably loaded on one of the horses.


    Bernt checked the bags again just to be sure. Most just contained clothes and a few personal effects, but one had a hidden compartment with a few coins in it, which he pocketed. He also nabbed two extra pairs of socks, a small pot and an extra blanket, all of which went into his bag. Then he crammed as much food in as he could fit ¨C travel biscuits, dried beans, peas and a small bag of dried apples that he found underneath the biscuits.


    The bag was enchanted to fit quite a bit more than it should naturally, but it wasn''t that big. In the end, Bernt still had to leave most of what was left behind. But he didn¡¯t need to store everything in his nearly weightless enchanted bag. He also grabbed a hatchet, which went into his belt, and a handful of dried parsley, which went directly into his pocket. His robes were singed in the front and had a few tears in the back. Hopefully, it would be enough for the spiritually infused garment to begin healing itself.


    Lastly, Bernt checked the bodies of the dead. Emata lay next to the wagon, her sword broken beneath her. Carefully, he checked her pockets and her belt. The sheath that had held her dagger at her belt was already empty, but she had another knife tucked into one boot, which Bernt took. Tarik had a mid-grade healing potion tucked under his armor. Bernt checked the others by the wagons, but they had nothing left worth taking.


    He skipped the carbonized remains around the carriage. There was practically no chance that they would have anything usable on them, and he felt sick enough after checking these ones. Looting the bodies of people you knew just felt wrong.


    Besides, it was time to go. His headache was gone, replaced by a nervous sense of urgency. He had to try to catch up to the others as quickly as he could. If he was caught out in the dark by himself, he could easily be overwhelmed. On the other hand, he had to move carefully, too. The demons might be following above or below ground. He could just as easily stumble into a group of demons as his friends.


    There were no good options, so he had to take the one he had.


    Shouldering his bag, Bernt walked as quickly as he could without straining himself. He hadn¡¯t managed to recover his wand, but he still had his iron ring on his left hand. Grixit had been right, all those months ago. The best kind of focus was one you couldn''t lose.


    After a few more minutes, Bernt chanced a light jog. To his surprise, the additional motion actually helped to ease the pain in some of his bruised muscles. Just a few minutes later, though, he had to stop and walk again, completely out of breath and sweaty. Robes were not designed for running.


    Still, he didn''t give up, alternating between a fast walk and a slow jog every few minutes.


    An hour passed, then two. Bernt¡¯s head was pounding again, his lungs burned and the savage cramp in his side had long since mellowed into a more companionable nauseating ache. His legs felt hollow and shook slightly when he stopped moving. The others had to be moving quickly, considering that he still hadn¡¯t even managed to catch a glimpse ¨C even on the longer straight sections, some of which extended what might have been half a league.


    Bernt coughed up phlegm and spat. It looked normal, but it tasted like blood. Dully, he dug his cup out of his bag and began conjuring water into it. He needed a drink. How was it possible that he still hadn¡¯t caught sight of the others? How fast could they be moving, and how long had he been out while that cultist dragged him over the rocks?


    He drank, letting the conjured water wash the metallic taste out of his mouth. He should eat something, too, but the thought of running around on a full stomach didn¡¯t appeal to him at all. He¡¯d wait until nightfall.


    Packing the cup away again, Bernt began walking once more, working himself up to a jog after a few steps ¨C he was exhausted. The road was windy here, working its way around absolutely massive boulders. If he was lucky, he¡¯d find the others camped just around the next bend. Then he could stop to breathe, eat something and, gods willing, sleep for a few hours.


    He was so wrapped up in the fantasy that he didn¡¯t even see the damned demon before he ran into it. One moment he was jogging around a tight corner, the next he was on the ground. Something sharp dug into his side painfully, accompanied by a growl and a clawed hand that grasped at his face. Frantically, Bernt tried to push it away, forcing mana through his right hand and kicking with his feet. His shin connected painfully hard as fire washed over his adversary.


    The thing grunted and fell back, completely ignoring the flames that covered it. It was immune, just like the hellhounds he¡¯d fought in the Undercity. Bernt had seen one like it before, during the first ambush after Fergefield. Its upper body was mostly humanoid, but its legs were hooved like those of a goat and covered in dark fur. It had short, pointy horns and a narrow snout rather than a nose.


    It snarled and started to move, raising a hand, but Bernt didn¡¯t wait to find out what it would do next. Cold fire spewed from his left hand in a loose cone, almost completely enveloping the thing. It screamed in animalistic agony, but only for a moment. When the spell fizzled out, the demon was on the ground, its upper body nothing but a charred mess.


    Bernt let out a quivering breath, rubbing at his bruised shin. That had hurt. Had he kicked it in the head?


    He really needed to be more careful.

 3.41 Another Way

    Bernt moved more slowly after encountering the goat demon. He couldn¡¯t afford to keep getting into surprise fights. Sure, his banefire spell gave him a powerful advantage against demons, but sooner or later he was going to stop getting lucky. He didn¡¯t want to think about what might have happened if that goat thing had access to hellfire.


    Then again, he¡¯d survived the blast back by the carriage¡­ but he¡¯d had his thornskin amulet activated then. It was possible, maybe, that his sorcerous investiture had somehow made him more generally resilient against fire ¨C his right hand certainly was ¨C but he wasn¡¯t about to test that against hellfire.


    He reached up to touch the spiritually infused bramble. It had disintegrated into loose fibers, and the thorns were gone entirely. He seriously doubted it would work again, if he could even recharge it.


    The sun sank low in the sky ahead, casting long shadows behind the monolithic rocks that lined the road. Bernt could appreciate the beautiful interplay of light and shadow over the stark landscape, but it was hard to enjoy the moment considering what it meant. He was nearly out of time. If he didn¡¯t run into the others soon, he was going to have to camp out here by himself.


    But he wasn¡¯t ready to give up yet. The others could be just around the next bend. He had to keep going as long as possible.


    Just then, as if he''d summoned it by magic, the sound of voices carried on the wind reached his ears ¨C snatches of sound, nothing more. His heart leapt, and he nearly called out, but then he stopped himself. His friends weren¡¯t the only ones out here. He couldn¡¯t afford to be reckless. Moving carefully to avoid making any loud noises, Bernt stepped off of the road and crouched down next to a shoulder-high boulder.


    He strained his ears, trying to catch more sounds. Maybe he¡¯d recognize someone¡¯s voice, or hear a horse or something. But, for a long moment, there was nothing. Just as Bernt was starting to wonder if he¡¯d imagined it, he heard the crunch of gravel against a paving stone.


    It was close ¨C someone was coming.


    Carefully, Bernt prepared a banefire spell, shaping the spellform in his mind¡¯s eye and watching the road. He wasn¡¯t going to get caught unawares again. Besides, if it was someone friendly, the spell wouldn''t do much more than scare them.


    Sure enough, two demons slunk into view ¨C a large imp, and it was riding on the back of a hellhound with its nose in the air, trying to catch a scent. That was new. And they were going the wrong way. Why would they be coming back toward him?


    The answer was obvious the moment he considered it. They were looking for him. Nuros wanted him dead, personally. That cultist had been trying to take him to someone to claim a reward. If they¡¯d realized that he wasn¡¯t among the dead, and that one of their cultists was missing¡­ well. This was going to be a problem.


    Aiming carefully, Bernt activated the spell, releasing it from his right hand to include the effect of his perpetual flame for good measure. A dense bolt of dim gray flame, nearly as big around as his head, struck the hellhound¡¯s upper back, enveloping the imp¡¯s lower body and splashing outward from the point of impact.


    There were no screams, just a yelp and a loud hissing noise as the pair toppled to the ground. The hellhound¡¯s front legs twitched and hellfire sprayed onto the road for a moment before subsiding, swallowed up by Bernt''s still-burning banefire. Letting out a slow breath, Bernt got up and approached.


    The hellhound was dead, even though one foot still made odd little shivering motions now and then. Beyond it lay the top half the imp. What little was left had holes burned into it where bits of flame had splashed. They¡¯d never stood a chance.


    The pyromancer allowed himself a moment of satisfaction at the sight. Finally, a nice, clean kill. He just had to make sure he wasn¡¯t taken unawares, and he¡¯d be fine. Sure, mages were vulnerable in a fight, but what they lacked in defense, they made up for in destructive potential. Leaving the bodies, he continued down the road, keeping a wary ear out. He was already partway around the next bend when he remembered that hellhounds didn¡¯t talk.


    Heart leaping into his throat, Bernt stopped in his tracks and listened once more.


    Nothing. Who had the imp been talking to? Or had it been the imp at all?


    He needed to get off of the road, and quickly.


    Ducking down once more, he made his way over and around the rocks that littered the ground finding cover wherever he could. He made a wide circle around the bend, doing his best to stay out of sight and stopping often to listen. It was slow going, but his caution was rewarded after just a few minutes. Once again, he heard unintelligible snatches of voices. Sound echoed strangely here, and it was difficult to get anything coherent, but this time it definitely didn''t sound human.


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    Carefully, he continued to make his way back toward the road, but he hadn''t caught sight of it yet when a shrieking noise brought Bernt¡¯s head around. It came from his left, roughly back in the direction he¡¯d come. Hells, one of them had found the bodies. He should have pulled them off the road, at least. That was stupid!


    Answering sounds came from somewhere to his right, as well as in front of him a short distance. There was an entire group here looking for him, and now they knew he was here.


    And night was falling.


    Bernt cursed under his breath and ducked even lower. This was a disaster. He couldn''t fight all of them, and that meant he needed to get away and find somewhere to hide for the night. Turning, he began to make his way south. That would take him further away from the road, and from where the shouts had come.


    The sun set completely only minutes later, making it more and more difficult to move quietly in the growing darkness. Bernt tripped over a rock and nearly fell on his face before he realized that he had a solution to this problem. With a thought, he activated his belt and marveled once more at just how well he could see with it. The uneven, rocky ground, which had been practically invisible in the dark, was thrown into sharp relief. Why hadn''t he thought of this before?


    In theory, he could keep going well into the night, which meant he might be able to catch up with the others in the night. In practice, though, he knew it wasn¡¯t going to be that simple. Jori could see perfectly well in the dark, and Bernt thought it was fairly likely that most others would have the same ability. Worse, demons slept barely half as much as mortals, and they didn¡¯t have to do it in a regular cycle. They just slept when they had time.


    That had been convenient when he¡¯d been trapped in a dungeon with Jori, but it was a real problem here. The closer he got to the others, the more likely it was that he¡¯d run into more demons. Besides, they had to know he would try to catch up. There was nowhere else to go except back to Gobford, and only the one road.


    He could stay off the road, maybe, but then he¡¯d never catch up. The unsteady footing was treacherous ¨C a day¡¯s hike on the road would probably take a week out here, assuming he didn¡¯t step on a loose rock and break his ankle. The demons had picked this leg of the journey to finally wipe them out for a reason. The geography kept travelers confined to the only route available. Bottled up.


    Groaning softly, Bernt settled down onto a reasonably level rock sheltered between two larger boulders and pulled out his bag. He needed to eat, and it was too damned cold. He could decide what to do next when he had something in his belly. Carefully, he removed his small pot, a few hard biscuits and a bit of salt. Two spells later, he had a quarter-full pot of boiling water, into which he dumped the biscuits to soften them up. It wouldn¡¯t taste like much, but he wasn¡¯t in any mood to break his teeth trying to chew them right now.


    Leaving the pot of food to do its thing, Bernt unpacked his bag and laid everything out on the ground in front of him. He needed to take inventory.


    There was a rope, his books and notes for his research in the Phoenix Reaches, food for maybe two weeks, a box of minor healing potions, one mid-grade healing potion, a hatchet, a knife, his bedroll, and a round pebble, carefully inscribed with a small portal circle that was supposed to open up to the elemental plane of fire. He¡¯d bought it from Grixit the day they¡¯d met, but he¡¯d never found an appropriate moment to use it. Why did he even keep the damned thing? His manaburn spell was faster to cast, and probably safer to use ¨C at least for him.


    It had felt like more when he¡¯d been packing, but seeing it all laid out like this, Bernt didn¡¯t feel well prepared for anything. How was he supposed to fight his way past a pack of demons by himself with this?


    He could maybe hide for a week or so, and hope that they gave up. They might assume that he¡¯d made it past them, somehow, or maybe that he died out here on his own, right? But there was no way to know when they¡¯d give up, or if they would find him in the meantime. Besides, he¡¯d never catch up to the others at that rate. Torvald, at least, wouldn''t have left him if he thought he was still alive, he was sure. They weren''t going to wait for him.


    Dejectedly, Bernt spooned a bit of soggy biscuit out of the water and looked over his things again. If he only had a way to contact the others¡­ but he didn¡¯t. He could talk to Jori, and she might be able to arrange for Ed and Iriala to send a message to the Mages¡¯ Guild in Goldwater, but they wouldn¡¯t get that in time to help him. If they even could help.


    He needed to figure another way out of this on his own.


    Bernt¡¯s fell on his notes ¨C more specifically, his most recent notes from the library in Gobford. Hadn¡¯t there been something there¡­? Bernt rifled through the sheets, looking for the one he wanted. There. Another way.


    He had a map of the northern part of the Phoenix Reaches. It was hand-drawn and at least sixty years old, but it covered this entire area. Well, not here, but on the other side of the mountains. It even had helpful markings to point out landmarks and places to harvest materials.  Bernt stood up and looked south. The Sunset Range looked especially imposing at night, backlit by red-orange light from behind, its many peaks reaching up like teeth trying to bite the sky. But it wasn¡¯t impassable. Bernt could see¡­ well. Not passes, per se. But it wasn¡¯t all cliffs. A determined mage who wasn¡¯t afraid of a bit of fire should be able to make his way through.


    The demons wouldn¡¯t be checking the mountain slopes, and they certainly wouldn¡¯t be in the Phoenix Reaches. Nobody would expect it, because it was stupid. Or it would be stupid for someone who hadn¡¯t already been planning to go there. Bernt could conjure enough water to drink, and he could probably make the food last as long as three weeks if he stretched it. The burning rain wouldn¡¯t be a problem for him unless he was caught totally unawares.


    He could do it. He could hike to the Sacral Peaks from the other side, entering the way he¡¯d originally planned to access the Phoenix Reaches. He¡¯d need to avoid straying too far in, but it wasn¡¯t supposed to be too dangerous near the borders. Certainly not as dangerous as staying here.


    Decision made, Bernt finished what was now a sort of tasteless porridge, conjured some more water to rinse the pot and packed up his things. He¡¯d need to get a little more distance from the road before he felt safe enough to sleep a few hours. Tomorrow, he was going to the Phoenix Reaches.

 3.42 The Sunset Range

    It was late by the time Bernt finally stopped for the night, curling up in his bedroll in a somewhat sheltered spot between a few large boulders. He slept fitfully for a few hours, plagued by nightmares of the day¡¯s events. It wasn¡¯t the cultist ambush, the demons or the guard with the rock that plagued his dreams. No, it was Emata¡¯s dead eyes, staring at him accusingly as he checked her pockets.


    He hadn''t closed them when he left ¨C he should have done that. It was what you did.


    Bernt woke up feeling sick and exhausted in full darkness. But he couldn¡¯t get back to sleep.


    There was no point in waiting around, he decided. He had a long way to go, and limited resources. So, he packed up his things and got underway, paring bits off of half a dried apple with his knife as he went. He wasn¡¯t really hungry yet, but he hated running around on an empty stomach in the morning, and a bite of breakfast always helped him wake him up properly.


    ***


    Aelos drifted high into the night sky, stretching his incorporeal limbs while the darkness still permitted him to hold his true shape. The first light of dawn was starting to color the horizon, and soon he¡¯d be forced back down into two dimensions, pushed down by the accursed light into the shadows. He couldn¡¯t wait to grow stronger, until even the light of the sun couldn¡¯t constrain him.


    If only he could find that accursed warlock, Zijeregh would reward him. Maybe even Nuros himself!


    It had been a mistake to take in that stupid imp ¨C one of Tallash¡¯s remnants. The cursed thing hadn¡¯t even managed to alert the others. The hellhound could be excused, maybe ¨C they were stupid beasts, after all ¨C but the imp would pay for its incompetence. The Duergar wouldn¡¯t be able to summon them back for a day or two at least. Now, he needed to push his other thralls to work harder. He couldn¡¯t afford to fail, like Tallash and Roaznis. He already had failed once, by keeping their target¡¯s identity to himself, and Zijeregh had only grudingly allowed him to attempt to correct his mistake.


    Right now, Roaznis¡¯ thralls were still running after the other mortals, following her last order to attack before she¡¯d been sent back to the hells. They would continue until they succeeded, or they were all gone. Most likely, the remaining mortals would make short work of them. Thralls were stupid and reckless. Barely more than fodder even with leadership.


    But that was good for him ¨C or it would be if he could catch that accursed warlock!


    Circling in agitation, he cast his gaze through the darkness all around. He could see far here, but the road was empty. There was nothing to find. He was about to return to the ground, when something caught his eye ¨C the barest hint of light.


    It glinted off of something metal, in the far distance. Not on the road, though¡­ what could it be? Racing the dawn, he cast himself through the darkness toward his prey.


    ***


    Bernt emerged from the boulder field and looked up at the scree covered slope. It was a lot steeper than it had looked from a distance. He sighed. This was not going to be fun, but it was as good as he was going to get. He¡¯d picked this spot because he¡¯d noticed on his approach that there was a clear gap in the sheer cliffs up above ¨C one of many along the mountain range, but this was by far the closest. If he didn¡¯t want to go up here, he¡¯d have to walk at least an hour east or west to find another spot that would work, with no guarantee that it would be better.


    To buy himself another moment of rest, he dug out his cup and drank some water, following it up with a rock-hard biscuit that he dunked and then gnawed on half-heartedly for a few minutes. Then he re-tied the laces on his boots and stood up.


    His feet sinking into the unstable gravel, Bernt began his ascent.


    ***


    Aelos cast himself in the shadow of a boulder as he watched the mortal climb. The oppressive morning light beat down mercilessly on the slope. He could see the hint of a shadow being cast high up above, where craggy peaks broke out of the scree to scratch at the sky. He could make it, taking refuge in the many tiny shadows cast by the rocks and pebbles on the slopes or in the substance of the ground ¨C but it would be slow. Far too slow.


    Besides, he couldn¡¯t kill the warlock on his own. He needed to report what he¡¯d found and gather his thralls. From there, the mortal would be easy to follow. The hounds could track by smell, and so could the imp if it managed to get itself summoned again in time to make itself useful.


    Such unreliable creatures.


    ***


    Bernt dug both hands into the scree, crawling up the last bit on all fours. It helped to keep him from slipping down quite so far every time he put his foot down into the loose material. He felt exhausted already, though he¡¯d been climbing for less than an hour. Still, his progress so far had felt infuriatingly slow.


    Then, finally, the scree thinned and he found himself on nearly solid rock. He crested the ridge and craned his neck to get his first look at¡­ more mountains?


    Bernt groaned and cursed. Below him lay a narrow, dead valley and on the far side, another ridge ¨C taller than the one he¡¯d just climbed. He¡¯d known it wasn¡¯t going to be as simple as crossing a single ridge, but he¡¯d hoped that he would at least be able to see his destination. Fighting down his disappointment, he sat down to rest on a rock outcropping and drink some water. At least he had a beautiful view, even if it was awfully stark.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    As he sipped on conjured water, he examined the valley below and the topography. He needed to find a good route down and back up the other side. Ideally, he needed to avoid dropping too far down and then crest the next ridge at the lowest possible point. There was no sense in climbing higher than he had to. That, and he wanted to avoid anything too¡­ cliffy? Dwarves probably had a better word for it, but he wasn¡¯t any kind of mountaineer. He¡¯d brought a rope, sure, but he wasn¡¯t planning to use it.


    After choking down another rock-hard biscuit to keep himself going, Bernt rose and began picking his way down the most likely path.


    At least he had good boots.


    It took only about twenty minutes to get down into the narrow valley, but his knees felt like jelly by the time he got there. He was almost glad to start climbing again. This time, it took him nearly twice as long to make it to the top. It was barely approaching noon as he scrambled up the last bit, but he was more than ready to call it a day.


    Preparing himself for the sight of yet another ridge beyond, Bernt rounded an outcropping to see what lay ahead. He stopped and stared at the sight, too tired and cold to feel anything but numbness.


    There was another ridge, sure enough. But the new ridge was, in a sense, the old ridge. From below, this had looked like the top, but he¡¯d been tricked by his perspective. The ground leveled off for a while, but then began to slope up again sharply, to what Bernt could only hope was the true top of the Sunset Range here.


    Thunder rumbled in the distance and Bernt wondered for a moment if he needed to find shelter. But the ground here was as dry and dead as the valley behind him had been. Rain didn''t fall here, and that wasn''t going to change today.


    He sighed and repositioned his bag, slinging it over his other shoulder.


    Well, there was nothing for it. The only way forward was up.


    Bernt lost track of time as he ascended ¨C he just put one foot in front of the other mechanically, trying not to think about how far he had to go. When he looked up, it looked like he¡¯d barely even started, even though the ridge below looked as though it were already a league away. Still, he pushed on. His steps grew shorter the longer he went, and he found himself breathing hard from what should have been a modest physical effort. He stumbled and nearly fell on his face before it occurred to him that he wasn¡¯t thinking straight.


    Groggily, he looked up, trying to find a good spot to sit and eat something. Maybe that would help. To his surprise, he saw only open sky. Slowly, his gaze drifted down, finally stopping at the top of the ridge. The steep mountain face had already leveled off somewhat, but Bernt had been too addled to notice. Light flashed in the distance, and his steps regained a little of their vigor as the land beyond the ridge finally came into view.


    A warm wind blasted him in the face, contrasting starkly with the thin, freezing air he¡¯d been breathing just a moment before. He looked down onto a sea of clouds, roiling and flashing with lightning. Here and there a mountain peak broke through the roiling mass ahead but none were higher than where he stood now. Beyond it, the horizon was painted in a reddish orange ¨C the same glow that illuminated these mountains from behind at night.


    Strangest of all to Bernt¡¯s eyes though, was that the slope beneath him was alive.


    It wasn¡¯t much, but grasses poked out of cracks in the rock, and what looked like patches of herbs grew in every crack that might contain a bit of soil on the slopes. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was a drastic change from the dead landscape behind him. They weren¡¯t plants native to the Phoenix Reaches, either. No, this was just ordinary grass. It was disorienting to find life up here of all places.


    Enjoying the warmer, somehow fuller air, Bernt hiked down a short distance to get out of the worst of the wind and sat down, gazing at the storm below. He wasn¡¯t looking forward to hiking through that, but he¡¯d made it. He was in the Phoenix Reaches.


    ***


    Jori shook off the uncomfortable sensation of being dragged between planes and glared at her summoners.


    ¡°You¡¯re late!¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Ed said, shouldering his bag and stepping toward her, ¡°Emergency meeting at the castle. The King wants us to start sending scouting parties into the Depths to map out the Duergar borders. I had to argue with him to keep him from roping the Underkeepers into the effort ¨C as if we didn¡¯t have enough to do trying to keep thousands of desperate refugees from each others¡¯ throats. Never mind the state of the sewers. Damned politicians. You solve one problem, and suddenly they come to you for every little thing!¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Jori said. ¡°Well, I guess you can get back to that, then.¡± She pulled a bag off her belt and turned it over, dumping its grisly contents out on the floor. It was a hand, long and thin with wicked claws. She picked it up and held it out. It was blackened and melty on the wrist end. ¡°We got the hag already. I was waiting for your summon when she appeared, so Mal and I torched her before she could figure out what was happening. It was easy!¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Ed said, visibly deflating at the news. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s great. Good work.¡±


    Iriala, who seemed much more pleased with this outcome, stepped forward and picked up the trophy with a handkerchief.


    ¡°Excellent! Good work. And her thralls? What happened when she died?¡°


    Jori shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know yet. We killed the guards before she arrived. We¡¯ll have to see what the other thralls do when they return to the hells themselves. I''ve got my imps watching. We''ll see if we can recruit a few of them if they seem friendly. Maybe there will be a few imps!¡±


    The archmage nodded absently, still examining the hand. ¡°You know, I don¡¯t know that we¡¯ve ever had demon parts directly from the hells before. It might be something of interest to the Alchemists'' Guild. Do you think they''re alchemically different from those of summoned demons who die here?¡±


    Jori shrugged. ¡°Just make sure you document my contributions! I want everything in writing ¨C Josie always told me to get everything in writing ¨C and in triplicate! We can send a copy to her, and she can use it in my case so I can come back!¡±


    Both Ed and Iriala just stared at her for a moment, but then Iriala huffed out a dry laugh. ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll make a formal record and forward a copy to Teres. It¡¯ll get back to Radast, but I suppose I don¡¯t really care at this point.¡±

 3.43 The Phoenix Reaches

    To Bernt¡¯s relief, the storm clouds did not prove to be an example of the Phoenix Reaches¡¯ infamous burning rain. He''d guessed as much ¨C they were the wrong color ¨C but he''d still worried. Bernt had read something once about how mountains were supposed to make clouds and cause rainfall somehow, but he hadn¡¯t expected to find an example of it here. Nothing he¡¯d read about this place had concerned itself with natural weather.


    The rumble of thunder accompanied him on his descent through the dense mist, and he soon found himself soaked through as the mist transitioned to rain. The terrain changed, too. Soil covered the slope here and with it came first grasses, then scraggly bushes and finally trees.


    When he finally emerged from beneath the clouds, Bernt was greeted by a view of a different world. From here, he could see far over the green mountainous landscape that he currently stood in to smaller ridges and foothills below, where the true Phoenix Reaches began. It was partly obscured by the rain, but he could see sunlight shining down in the distance.


    The green landscape below transformed at the foot of the mountains in an uneven line, as if a border had been scrawled there by a bored god. Bernt had known what to expect, in general terms, but seeing it was something entirely different. The Phoenix Reaches were technically inhospitable to normal life, but that didn¡¯t mean they were dead. The ecosystem there just operated under different rules. He just hadn¡¯t expected it to look quite so familiar. In the distance, he could make out grasslands and forests of bone-white trees. As he watched, a dark cloud that must have been a massive flock of birds erupted from a distant copse in the far distance, startled by an unknown threat.


    If everything that grew down there was an elemental creature or a magical material of some kind, the specific materials he¡¯d read about would only scratch the surface of what actually existed here. Who knew what he might find if he actually had the time to explore properly?


    Suddenly eager again, Bernt began to pick his way down.


    ***


    Hours later, Bernt sat huddled naked under the blanket from his bedroll as his sodden robes dried next to his improvised campfire spell. It was warmer here than it had been on the dry side of the mountains, but that didn¡¯t mean much when he was soaked to the bone and exhausted.


    The rain beat down on the mountain endlessly, making every surface either slick, muddy, or muddy and slick. But he¡¯d still had a long way to go, and it wasn¡¯t all downhill.


    It wasn''t quite night yet, but he''d been too tired to continue. So, he¡¯d cast a tunneling spell at the base of a short cliff to create a small shelter, placing the fire between himself and the entrance. It would warm the stone walls and keep out any uninvited visitors. That was the idea, anyway.


    Trying to keep his hand from shaking, he slowly chalked runes down on the smooth stone next to him in a circle. He hadn¡¯t had time to contact Jori before or, more accurately, he hadn¡¯t even thought of it, what with demons trying to chase him down.


    Finishing the circle, Bernt extended a strand of his spirit into it. His mind lurched uncomfortably, then he felt Jori¡¯s relief flood through their bond.


    ¡°Agh! Why are you so cold?¡± she asked, shivering at the vicarious sensation coming to her from their bond. She was crouched on a rock, watching as three other imps subdued a strange humanoid dressed in a loose black rag. It looked like a small, skeletally thin, blue-skinned human, except it had no eyes and unnaturally long, sharp teeth that prevented it from closing its mouth properly. It swiped at one of the imps and screamed, freakishly unhinging its jaws as it did so.


    Unimpressed, one of the imps ¨C slightly larger than the other two ¨C flung a gobbet of sticky hellfire into its face. The monster writhed and shrieked before collapsing in a heap, its head quickly collapsing into a smoking ruin.


    Not a very powerful demon, then, despite its fearsome appearance.


    ¡°I¡­ ah¡­ I had to hike through a storm.¡± Bernt explained, deciding not to ask. It looked like Jori had her end handled, and he needed to get word to her and the archmages. ¡°We were attacked and I got separated. All three of the priests are dead, but I think Torvald, Nirlig and Elyn got away with some of the others. I didn¡¯t see their bodies, at least. There were too many demons, and I couldn¡¯t catch up. I went into the mountains to get around them. I¡¯m on the other side, near the Phoenix Reaches ¨C or maybe in them, technically.¡±


    Jori got to her feet and flapped her wings in agitation. ¡°What happened!?¡±


    Bernt related the events of the past few days to her, stopping to backtrack and explain the details as he went. There hadn¡¯t been time to begin to process what had happened, and it was hard to line everything up right into a coherent story. Still, it felt good to get it all out to a sympathetic ear. He¡¯d missed having Jori around.


    ¡°So, when I stopped here,¡± he finished, ¡°I realized that I forgot to tell you that the hag was dead. You need to be ready to take her out when she reforms in the hells. Are you sure you¡¯re in the right place?¡±


    Jori snorted. ¡°Roaznis is dead! We got her probably a day ago, not long after we got here. Ed was supposed to come and help us watch the place, but he missed it! He looked disappointed when he found out ¨C I don¡¯t think he¡¯s having a good time in Halfbridge right now.¡±


    Bernt leaned back and let out a weak chuckle. ¡°He hates paperwork. If it¡¯s anything like when I left ¨C with all the refugees and the shortages ¨C I¡¯m kind of surprised he didn¡¯t permanently abdicate his position in favor of Fiora. Maybe the magistrate wouldn¡¯t let him.¡±


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    The imp jumped down from her perch and reached into a small belt pouch strapped over her now-tattered robes, producing a bit of spicy rat jerky. She tore a mouthful off with her teeth and reclined against the rock.


    ¡°So, what are you going to do now? Do you still need to get to the Sacral Peaks if all the priests are dead?¡±


    ¡°Torvald¡¯s fine, I think,¡± Bernt replied. ¡°So yeah, I need to get there ¨C I''m his legitimator. It shouldn''t be a problem, as long as I can get through the Phoenix Reaches okay. It¡¯s probably even a shortcut, distance-wise. Of course, with all the mountains and whatever¡¯s waiting for me out here, they might still get there first. Just make sure to tell Iriala what I¡¯m doing, so she can get a message to Goldwater before the others get there. Then at least they¡¯ll know I made it out. They probably think I¡¯m dead.¡±


    Bernt sighed and dug around in his bag for something to eat. The heat from the fire had finally warmed the walls of the small space, and it was starting to feel almost cozy. Bernt was alone in an unknown place, with a limited amount of food and without his wand, but he felt¡­ almost normal.


    He had Jori for company, at least. For the first time in over a week, Bernt felt like he could relax.


    ***


    When Bernt woke up, it was dark and he was starving. His legs, feet and lower back were beyond sore, but he forced himself to get up and move around, gingerly trying to warm up and loosen his cramped muscles.


    Then, after wolfing down some cold beans left over from last night¡¯s dinner, Bernt activated his belt to help him see and continued on. It was uncomfortable at first, but soon his overtaxed muscles warmed up, and the pain receded. It took hours to get over the next ridge and around another before he found a narrow valley with a small stream leading south ¨C around the foothills and out onto slightly less mountainous terrain. Several more hours later, he found that he''d made it. The steep slopes fell away on his left side, revealing a wide open plain. He stood at the dividing line, mundane bushes behind him, and the burning world of the Phoenix Reaches in front of him.


    The white trees, as it turned out, were actually on fire. He hadn¡¯t been able to see it from so far away and in daylight the day before, but in the darkness of early evening, the flames flickering in the branches became obvious. Fire was everywhere, in fact. It flickered out of the ground in places, and a general fiery red glow seemed to emanate from beyond the southern horizon.


    Between here and the trees ahead, scraggly patches of coal-black grass dotted the ground, getting thicker and joining into a contiguous carpet a few hundred strides in. It would have looked burnt if not for the clusters of delicate red and orange florets that poked out here and there. Curious, Bernt stepped over the invisible line where both kinds of plants mixed and tore out a small handful of the black grass.


    It had been described in his books as ¡°coal grass¡±, both in Halfbridge and in Gobford. It had magical properties, though it wasn¡¯t anything relevant to Bernt ¨C just some way for it to draw moisture from the warm air. But that didn¡¯t matter right now. He¡¯d been wanting to try this ever since they¡¯d left Gobford.


    Unceremoniously, he bit the delicate floret off the top of the small bushel and chewed. The grass itself was cool to the touch, and small droplets of water had gathered at the stem.


    Nothing happened.


    That was a little disappointing, but it was only one datapoint. Digging a charcoal pencil and the stack of papers that he was currently using to take notes out of his bag, Bernt flipped to a blank page and recorded his results. He¡¯d be sampling everything he could get his hands on along the way.


    While he wanted to try to form a proper augmentation, Bernt had decided that he wasn¡¯t going to put off his research for it. He¡¯d analyze all the potentially usable materials he found and learn everything he could. If he got the chance, he¡¯d even try to talk to an elemental to get its advice, as Xul¡¯evareg had suggested. If he found a suitable material, he¡¯d form his investiture and hopefully his first augmentation as planned.


    What he wasn¡¯t going to do, though, was wait around forever for that to happen.


    Originally, he¡¯d wanted to avoid developing his sorcerous magic separately from his normal investitures. Since leaving Gobford, though, he¡¯d had some time to think. If growing his sorcerous mana network involved incorporating the magical potential of other materials, he didn¡¯t have to worry about becoming some kind of second-rate mage compared to people of a similar level of advancement. Sure, that part of him would be highly restricted in the kind of magic he could cast, but it wasn''t as big a sacrifice as it sounded. Ultimately all mages grew more specialized over time.


    As long as he still had the normal part of his mana network, he would still be able to shape complex spellforms normally and cast whatever spells he liked.


    He could even keep building his normal mana network and create an augmentation later by incorporating more normal investitures with his burning rain. That was essentially what Pollock had suggested to him back in Halfbridge ¨C that he should build up both parts of his mana network independently.


    But he wouldn¡¯t have to make that choice yet. First, he had to see what was out there.


    To orient himself, Bernt flipped through his notebook to find the rough, hand drawn map of the Phoenix Reaches that he¡¯d gotten from the Gobford Library. There were landmarks drawn in to orient himself by, including a distinctive rock pillar, a series of small lakes of fire, and a single burning tree, which Bernt assumed had to be something different than the many burning white trees he could see from here.


    Besides that, there were quite a few small points that had been marked with glyphs. Some were marked with a ¡°harvest¡± symbol, which was clear enough, but others were more ambiguous. He wasn¡¯t planning to go out of his way for those he didn¡¯t understand ¨C he hadn¡¯t brought enough food to explore everything, but that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t visit any of them.


    One point, marked with a glyph that meant something like ¡°source¡± or ¡°wellspring¡± was located just south of one of the ¡°harvest¡± points in the western half of the Reaches. It was almost on the shortest path to the Sacral Peaks, so he would be an idiot not to check it out on his way. There were two other points with that same odd designation, but both were much further to the south, near the bottom of the incomplete map.


    He couldn''t see any of the indicated landmarks from here, so he couldn''t orient himself exactly on the map right now, but that wasn¡¯t too important. For now, he knew that the Sacral Peaks lay west of here, and that was good enough.


    Packing his notes away again, he turned right and started walking.

 3.44 A New World

    Zijeregh climbed out of the crack in front of her, emerging out into the light of day for the first time in days under the boughs of an ever-burning tree, which stood in a small copse of its kind. Her vessel¡¯s skin burned slightly at the touch of direct sunlight and she had to squint to be able to see. She''d brought some of her own strength with her when she claimed it, making its stronger, faster, and much tougher, but she had no special resistance to sunlight to lend her vulnerable host.


    Still, she preferred this to the Depths. The first hell, where she''d been spawned, was always bright. Besides, it was funny to feel her vessel¡¯s mind squirm uncomfortably, trying to cringe back with reflexes that were no longer tied to his body. He had a strong will ¨C one that she would take with her as payment when this body died.


    Having to walk around wearing a dwarf was an indignity.


    Looking back down, she hissed a few words, calling up her demons. It wasn¡¯t much ¨C just her shade servant, Aelos, a hellhound and an imp. The latter two shot forth immediately, heading up into the foothills to the north to hunt for the scent of human. The shade slithered into the flickering shadows of the trees, slowly working its way out. He wouldn¡¯t be able to start hunting in earnest until night fell.


    There were mortal thralls, too ¨C cultists of Varamemnon whose lives she had seen fit to grant purpose. A handful of humans, two dwarves and a lizardman. She considered calling down to them, suppressing their wills and marching them through here to join the search, but eventually sighed and returned back down into the cool Depths. They were too vulnerable to heat for his exit, and it would be foolish to damage the already mostly useless thralls.


    Originally, she''d gathered them for an ambush against the rest of the mortals further up along the road on the other side of the mountains, but Uvnik, her summoner, had proven to be uncooperative. She wished she had ten more demons and a complement of Duergar soldiers, but she had to abide by her ¡°master¡¯s¡± wishes. The Duergar thought that destroying the main body of the expedition should take priority ¨C they didn¡¯t really care about a single escapee.


    But they didn¡¯t control the cultists, and they didn¡¯t know she could lie. So, they¡¯d believed her when she¡¯d told them that the escaped mortal was a dangerous warlock ¨C one who sought to turn their own methods against them. After all, she had eyes and ears everywhere, and she was ¡°bound¡± to serve them. They couldn¡¯t ignore a threat like that.


    Despite that, though, Uvnik had tried to send her after the mortal alone, reasoning that as a powerful demon in her own right, she could handle a single spellcaster. That was true, of course, but also stupid. She¡¯d had to point out that they needed a way to find the mortal before the fool had even let her bring the few demons that she had. In the end, she had no choice but to look for additional bodies elsewhere. The cultists had been her only accessible option.


    This irritating hunt was going to take longer than it should have, but it would be enough. Soon, she would bring that insolent warlock¡¯s head to Nuros, even if she had to tear it off with her host''s clumsy, oafish fingers.


    ***


    Bernt checked his map, trying to make sense of the terrain in front of him. He¡¯d started heading west, originally, but the increasingly mountainous landscape had forced him to turn further and further south after just an hour. It didn¡¯t make sense ¨C this part of the mountains ran east to west all the way to the western edge of the Phoenix Reaches, where they turned south.


    Unless¡­


    He examined the map again, looking a little further east. The mountain range did widen quite a bit at one point, extending southward before narrowing again slightly. But that would mean he¡¯d crossed the mountains at least four leagues east of where he¡¯d originally thought.


    Shit.


    It wouldn¡¯t make a huge difference in the total amount of time he spent here, not in the grand scheme of things, but it meant he would have to go a lot deeper into the Reaches than he¡¯d planned to get around this more mountainous area. He¡¯d read about the kinds of elementals and monsters that made their home here, and he wasn''t eager to run into some of the things that made their homes further in. In fact, almost any large predator would be a deadly threat here, elemental or not.


    What was he ¨C a pyromancer ¨C going to do against something equipped to survive in a place like this? Nothing that could casually weather the burning rain would be impressed by Bernt''s fireball. The best policy was not to get into a fight in the first place.


    Of course, that didn''t mean everything that lived here was dangerous ¨C most of the creatures he¡¯d seen so far were animals. This morning, he¡¯d seen some of the birds trailing multicolored flames as they flew through the air in patterns. It hadn''t looked like a defensive measure so much as some kind of mating display by the looks of it. They¡¯d stopped after the sun came up.


    Later, there had been a herd of deer who looked almost normal, except for the fact that they all seemed to have antlers, even the little ones. The real surprise, though, came when Bernt saw them nibble on the flaming leaves of the perpetually burning trees. They ignored the fire completely, nibbling the foliage as if it were competely normal. Which, he supposed it was, to them. As they masticated, fire flickered around the points of the antlers, dissipating in the air after a few seconds before they took another bite and repeated the process.


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    Bernt had stopped and recorded the entire experience in his notes. It was obviously some kind of sorcerous adaptation, but how did an animal develop a spirit with such a specific sorcerous function?


    He wished he had his friends with him to watch his back ¨C he wanted to study all of this, to try to record the shape of their sorcerous mana networks and bring it all back to Halfbridge for Pollock to look over. But that would have to wait. Bernt was packing the map away, and was about to start moving again when he smelled burning leather. He sniffed at the air. What the hells? He checked his bag ¨C had something set fire to it?


    It looked fine, but as he picked up the bag to sling it back over his shoulder, the tiny trail of smoke rising from his boot caught his eye. A huge ant, nearly half as long as a finger, had sunk its mandibles into the now blackening sole. He yelped and tried to shake it off, but it just flopped around, hanging on doggedly. Still vainly trying to dislodge the thing, Bernt kicked at the rock where he¡¯d been sitting, crushing the insect against it with an uncomfortable crunch.


    Where had that come from? Bernt looked around. There was coal grass here, and some unfamiliar bushes, but no obvious giant ant mounds. Either way, he didn¡¯t want to be here when more of them showed up. Or¡­ did he?


    Bernt looked down at the crushed corpse. The thing had been doing sorcery, of a sort. Casting fire magic through its mouth parts. That was something worth examining, right? He hadn¡¯t had a chance to directly examine any of the sorcerous creatures here, and he probably wasn¡¯t going to be able to force a deer to cooperate.


    This dead ant wouldn¡¯t work either, of course. You couldn¡¯t conduct research on dead subjects, since their spirits ¨C and therefore their mana networks ¨C would be gone. But where there was one, there would be more.


    Carefully, Bernt backed away a few steps, watching to make sure he didn¡¯t accidentally walk into a whole army the little things. Ants followed each other around, right? He just needed to wait, and come up with a way to trap one without killing it. He considered the problem for a moment, then went back, raising his left hand and running mana through his focus as he traced a quick rune in the air.


    One earth shaping cantrip later, the dead ant was sitting in a small, square hole in the ground. To complete the trap, Bernt pulled a bit of dried apple from his pocket and put it down next to the dead one.


    Bernt sat on a large stone a few steps away to watch. He wanted to take the opportunity to relax, but it wasn¡¯t as easy as it sounded. The burning ant had put him on edge, and he checked his surroundings every few seconds to make sure no more of the fire-mouthed insects were sneaking up on him. Fortunately, he didn¡¯t have to wait long. Barely five minutes later, one of the things came questing out from under a rock, its antennae waving back and forth.


    Irritatingly, it didn¡¯t just go for its dead comrade. Instead it first wandered over to a large pebble, which it examined for a few seconds before going off to scout a small patch of coal grass. Bernt couldn¡¯t guess what it was thinking ¨C he supposed ants weren¡¯t especially smart. Finally, though, the thing seemed to notice something and approached the trap. Without hesitating for so much as a second, it disappeared into the hole.


    Huh. That hadn¡¯t been so hard.


    Scrambling to catch up even though he¡¯d been waiting for this exact moment for minutes, Bernt cast another earth shaping cantrip. Dirt flowed out from around the outside and underneath the trap over its open top and sealed it tight. Smiling to himself with relief, Bernt stepped up and picked up the somewhat lumpy, stone-like box. Perfect.


    He¡¯d need to do the experiment soon since the ant wouldn¡¯t live very long inside a sealed container, but he wanted to get a little further away from wherever the rest of that colony was first.


    Bernt headed south for a few minutes until he found a reasonably sheltered spot behind some boulders at the foot of a steep hill where he could stop for a while. There, he got out his notebook, something to write with and a snack ¨C he hated working on an empty stomach.


    Stuffing a bit of rock-hard cracker into his mouth to soften up, Bernt flattened and smoothed the surface of a large rock with a stone shaping cantrip and put the box down on it. Then, he pulled a bit of chalk out of his bag and carefully drew out a diagnostic circle.


    It wasn¡¯t the one he normally used to examine spells and magical materials or to perform investment procedures. This one was simpler ¨C he¡¯d learned it from Magister Pollock when the old wizard had examined his crippled right arm. Rather than unraveling a spell or a magical material into the spellform that defined its metaphysical essence, this one just projected a visual representation of whatever mana flows were present inside.


    As soon as he finished, a ridiculously tiny web of glowing light materialized over the box. Bernt stared at it incredulously. That couldn''t be right... Oh no.


    Ugh... Bernt grabbed his notebook and pencil and leaned in, quietly cursing to himself. Sure enough, it was a tiny mana network ¨C and it was moving around. At least it didn¡¯t look too complicated, but it was nearly impossible to make out any specifics. The projection was, of course, the same size as the creature inside it.


    There was nothing for it but to try. He could probably find a way to change the scale of the projection, but he didn''t have hours to spend working it out now. Rune circles were a warding discipline ¨C a field of study that he¡¯d already promised himself to study in greater depth. This was going to take long enouggh as it was.


    Bernt drew, squinting down at the tiny mana network, trying to decipher how it worked and marking down his best guesses, then correcting them occasionally when he worked something out. He wasn¡¯t sure exactly how long he spent at it, but eventually the tiny projection winked out as the ant died inside the sealed space and its spirit departed.


    He sat up and rubbed at his aching back and neck. That was fine. He wasn¡¯t going to get much more out of it than he already had, anyway.


    Stretching, Bernt looked up to check the sun. He¡¯d spent the better part of the afternoon here. Groaning to himself, he got up and started packing everything back into his bag. If he wanted to make it to the Sacral Peaks before he ran out of food, he should try to cover a bit more distance before he called it a day.


    As he walked, he looked over his notes. It was¡­ just a mana network. It was much simpler than his sorcerous investiture, which created a perpetual flame. As far as he could tell, this one just burned mana for heat, like a basic fire cantrip. Of course, the way that it worked was entirely different than the spell he was familiar with. But there was more than one way to produce any given effect. The ants couldn¡¯t actively design a logical spellform ¨C its spirit had been shaped organically.


    Bernt couldn¡¯t guess what he could learn from that. In the end, it was just a copy of a mana network. But insights were born from data. The more he could gather, the more likely it was that he might learn something new.

 3.45 Demonic Pact

    Bernt watched from behind the temperature barrier that closed off his small stone shelter as fire rained from the sky, bathing the landscape in light from above and below. It was the second time Bernt witnessed this phenomenon, but the first time he had such a great view. Seeing the unnatural clouds approach, he¡¯d climbed up the slope to his right as far as he could in the few minutes he had before shaping a small cave directly into the hillside. Now he sat looking out toward the south, where the previously uneven and occasionally craggy landscape gave way to an endless plain that spread that out below him, interrupted only by a series of sheer-walled buttes that had been marked on his map.


    The sight was breathtaking.


    Burning rain set the ground on fire all around, running down the slope in flickering golden rivulets to form puddles like burning oil in every hole and depression in the landscape. Unlike what one would normally expect, though, there was no smoke. There was fire everywhere, but nothing actually burned.


    The effect was surreal, somehow. The fire didn¡¯t feel as threatening as it should, even though it had turned the world outside into an oven. It flickered and flowed through the landscape like water, illuminating the colorful landscape all around without destroying it.


    Of course that didn¡¯t make it any less dangerous to Bernt.


    He¡¯d survived a blast of hellfire that had killed everyone around him, but hadn¡¯t really tested his own presumed fire resistance since then. His right hand, where his sorcerous investiture was, was entirely immune, of course ¨C he could hold his own manaburn spell pooled in his palm without any discomfort. But the rest of him wasn¡¯t like that. His torch spell felt as hot as ever when he held his other hand up to it, and it hurt when he didn¡¯t move it right away. He¡¯d even burned his tongue on some boiled peas the other night.


    He hadn¡¯t kept experimenting after that. Bernt wasn¡¯t going to risk seriously burning himself out here without proper medical attention. Sure, he had a few healing potions, but those wouldn¡¯t work quickly, and they wouldn¡¯t prevent scarring.


    Contemplatively, Bernt watched the torrent of burning rain lessen into a slower drizzle. It would clear up, soon, but the fires on the ground would light up the night for hours yet, until the puddles burned out, rising back up into the sky to form new yellowish clouds that would drift on only to fall again as rain somewhere else.


    Where too much rain gathered to evaporate quickly, burning ponds and lakes would form that might persist for days or weeks. Some ¨C those marked out on his map as landmarks, never fully disappeared.


    Using his right hand, Bernt reached out past the temperature barrier that kept him safe in his shelter and retrieved his pot. The water inside had boiled low and the beans were done. He dumped a biscuit into the mess to soften up as it cooled and pulled out his notes.


    He¡¯d performed a lot of experiments over the past several days ¨C mostly eating whatever looked like it wouldn¡¯t burn him from the inside. So far, he had nothing to show for it, except for a lost afternoon two days ago when a berry from a perpetually burning bush had laid him out with stomach cramps and... other side effects for hours.


    He''d resolved to be more careful after that, but there wasn¡¯t much he could do short of simply stopping. So, he¡¯d continued. Going by his notes, he¡¯d tried four kinds of herbs and grasses, two different berries, two kinds of bark, three types of roots and a singular insect ¨C a cricket. That last one had been especially nasty.


    Despite the variety, nothing had had any effect, magically speaking. Bernt was certain that he¡¯d be able to feel any kind of transfer of mana or magical potential, but nothing of the sort had happened. He¡¯d spent nearly every night poring over his notes, trying to work out whether he was missing something.


    If animals could do this, why couldn¡¯t he?


    The savage Mirian sorcerers he¡¯d read about supposedly grew their sorcerous potential over time ¨C the travelogue of Finnerixes hadn¡¯t specified exactly how they did that, but it at least suggested that it could be done. It did say that they ate the hearts of faerie creatures to gain access to the power in the first place. It was supposed to create a sort of central core that the network grew out of.


    Did they eat magical materials to grow, too? Bernt stared down at his pot of cooling beans, considering. What if¡­


    Oh, shit.


    Flipping through the loose pages, Bernt dug out the rudimentary copy that he¡¯d made of the sorcerous ant¡¯s mana network days ago. When he¡¯d drawn it out, he¡¯d been concentrating so much on the tiny glyphs and runes that he hadn¡¯t really paid attention to the overall shape of the network. It hadn¡¯t seemed that important. But, now that he was looking for it, there was an oddity there. As far as he¡¯d been able to tell, the creature¡¯s sorcery was concentrated around its mandibles ¨C at least, that was what it had used to set fire to his boot. So, why did it have such a dense cluster of channels in the back, at its fat little butt end?


    Bernt didn¡¯t really know anything about ant anatomy, but he was willing to bet that the creature¡¯s stomach was back there somewhere. It would make sense, right?


    Of course, it was only a guess. He¡¯d have to capture a more familiar kind of animal from here and try to map its sorcerous mana network to confirm his suspicion. If he was right, though, he was going to have a problem. The sorcerous portion of his mana network didn¡¯t come anywhere near his stomach, digestive tract, or even his mouth ¨C it stopped at his shoulder. For that matter, his normal mana network wasn¡¯t intertwined with his organs at all ¨C the parts that weren¡¯t shaped into investitures just ran through his limbs and torso in smooth loops. Even if he were willing to convert more of his existing mana network, he probably wouldn¡¯t be able to mimic the effect.


    Defeated, Bernt sat back and sighed. If he was right, then he couldn''t grow his sorcerous mana network organically at all.


    He wished he could talk to Pollock ¨C the old man usually didn¡¯t have answers, but he had a way of asking just the right questions. Now, he was back to trying to find a good bridging material to complete his augmentation. But that had been his original plan all along, he reminded himself. The best case scenario, even. But¡­ he still felt disappointed. It had felt like an important fallback option.


    Now, he had to find a suitable bridging material to unite his investitures. If he didn¡¯t, he¡¯d go back to Halfbridge empty handed and with no clear way forward. Sure, he could probably create an augmentation separate from the sorcerous portion of his spirit ¨C but without a way to develop his sorcery further, his discovery would be seen as something mediocre. Burnt-out mages might still use it to repair damage to their spirits, but they would likely stall afterward. There would be no hybrid ¡°arch-sorcerers¡±.


    Not if he didn¡¯t figure this out.


    Until that moment, Bernt hadn¡¯t even fully acknowledged that he held these ambitions for himself, or for those his discovery would help. He¡¯d toyed with the idea, sure. Had even planned for it. How incredible would it be to be the first of an entire new kind of spellcaster? Not a freak accident, or a less effective mage, but a new order with its own unique potential? Still, he¡¯d mostly just thought of it as just an option.


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    He didn''t know when it had started to feel real to him. But here, looking at the prospect of failure, he found that he couldn¡¯t let it go. He needed to talk to someone who could help. Someone who understood sorcery and spirits on a deeper level, who might know what he needed, or maybe how to work around this.


    Someone, or something.


    Bernt flipped to his map and eyed the spots marked on it. If he were a powerful, fully sapient fire elemental, where would he go?


    It was time to see if Xul¡¯evareg¡¯s advice was worth anything.


    ***


    Jori watched as a freezing mist flowed out from nowhere, congealing into a roiling mass just above the ground and causing ice crystals to form over the smooth surface below. The entire area around the confluence here had been turned to glass well before they arrived. That was inevitable if Roaznis and her thralls had been summoned from and returned here repeatedly, and the fighting since had only smoothed it further.


    The returning demon congealed out of the mist as it subsided, leaving behind¡­ more mist? It was a glowing wisp of mist, though as she looked closer, she thought she could make out tiny limbs inside. Was this what the weak demons from the fourth hell looked like?


    Xoryath summoned a bit of hellfire to burn the thing, but Jori stopped her with a wave of her hand, as she did every time. All of the demons so far had tried to run or fight, and two had even managed to escape, but she wasn¡¯t just here to kill all of Roaznis¡¯ former thralls. No, she wanted to recruit.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Jori snapped at the little thing as she approached. It wasn¡¯t moving, but it never hurt to be clear. She pointed over to the side, where the mostly burnt remains of the hag lay. ¡°Your mistress is dead. Your obligation to the hierarchy of Varamemnon is broken.¡±


    The little wisp floated backward in the air a little bit and its head shifted, looking around. It stopped when it saw the spot nearby where freezing mist leaked into the third hell from the fourth. Jori let it, waiting for it to say something. A confluence wasn¡¯t a portal ¨C it was just a spot where two planes touched. Powerful demons could tear a passage through, but something as weak as this thing would be stuck on this side. It wasn¡¯t going to get away ¨C not unless it was a lot faster than it looked.


    ¡°I want to go home,¡± the thing squeaked. ¡°I don¡¯t like it here!¡±


    Jori nodded, humming in agreement. She could understand that ¨C she wanted to go home, too.


    ¡°And what tore you away from your home? The ¡®great ones¡¯ kill us, and force us to serve,¡± she began her pitch energetically. ¡°They keep us weak and set us against each other to win barren, dead land for them. They hoard the souls we need to grow and consume them while we die!¡±


    The wisp was still, now, staring at her curiously.


    ¡°Ummm. What?¡± it asked, hesitantly.


    She¡¯d gotten this far before, but they usually tried to run at this point. They wouldn¡¯t be familiar with the idea of a revolutionary, but they could recognize a high-risk proposition when they heard it. This one, though. Well, it was tiny and obviously terrified. But, it didn¡¯t run. It knew there was nowhere to go.


    It was just a guess, but the way it cringed, looking for an escape while trying to appear compliant felt¡­ familiar to her. This was a kindred spirit, of a sort. Jori didn¡¯t know how things worked in the fourth hell, but she guessed that she was looking at whatever passed for the very bottom of their food chain ¨C those who served the same function as imps in the third.


    What was a little more risk, when you were doomed to die from the moment you were born?


    "I can¡¯t send you through there, to send you back to wherever you came from,¡± she said, pointing toward the mist. ¡°But I can keep you safe, and I can help you grow. Join me, and I will share my souls with you and reveal secrets of magic that the great ones hide from us!¡±


    Jori pointed first at Xoryath, then Maladzhoth and Faedris. ¡°Look at my cousins. We have the hellfire that is our birthright, and the others will catch up, soon. Join us, and you will grow, too ¨C soon!¡± She didn''t know what a little mist thing would grow into, but she was certain that she wanted to find out.


    The little wisp flitted up to her, and a cold breath of wind washed over her as it stopped. It swiped an ethereal hand through its own substance and held it out, a small point of blueish light concentrated on its tiny finger.


    ¡°By these terms, I will serve,¡± its little voice came, suddenly intense. ¡°Swear it!¡±


    Jori looked at the tiny demon for a moment, confused. She hadn¡¯t really meant it to be anything this formal ¨C her cousins had taken her at her word. To be fair, though, she supposed that was unusual. It meant that they weren¡¯t obligated to her, and could leave or betray her at any time without necessarily offending anyone. This was more than even a simple oath of service. No, the little thing was trying to form a pact. She¡¯d never bound a demon into service before, but if that was what it wanted¡­


    The imp pricked a claw into the back of her left hand and quickly touched it to the wisp¡¯s ¡°blood¡±. The substance would carry a measure of their contractual intent, and assuming that they were in true accord, would bind them to it. She¡¯d never actually done this sort of thing before.


    Almost instantly, the two substances melted together and expanded. Jori flinched back, surprised, but the wisp just watched. Between them hung a small circle of familiar symbols, one that she could read instinctively. It was a description of the nature of their relationship. The wisp would serve Jori and her interests and in exchange, Jori would provide the wisp with the souls it needed to grow as soon as she could practically arrange it. There were other details, but she didn''t bother deciphering the symbols. It was just a reflection of their mutual intent. They knew the rules.


    The contract dissipated into the air, but Jori could feel a weight settle inside her, sinking into her very bones. It was a strange feeling, but it was done. This was normal, right? Demons did this sort of thing all the time.


    ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s your name?¡± she asked.


    The wisp spun in a loose circle before coming over and settling on Jori¡¯s shoulder, just above her wing. She was icy cold.


    ¡°My name is Lidis, great one.¡±


    Jori blinked at the honorific. She¡¯d just been railing against the ¡°great ones¡±. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Maladzhoth smirk. He¡¯d noticed the irony.


    Annoyed, she cleared her throat and addressed the little creature again. ¡°The mortals that you hunted are our friends ¨C do you know what happened to them? Are they alive? How many of them are there?¡± She''d instructed one of her imps to try to return to his duties chasing Bernt and his friends if he was summoned. He''d been gone for a week now, but she hadn''t heard back. She wouldn''t until he was deported at the earliest. The fact the he wasn''t back was a good sign ¨C he would have self-deported if either the Duergar or the demons tried to force him into a new pact. But it seemed that no one remembered that he had only been bound to service through Tallash, who was dead.


    ¡°Ehm¡­ friends?¡± the wispy creature sounded confused. ¡°They are nine, in the main group, but¡­ none will survive. Zijeregh hunts the slippery mortal warlock for Nuros, somewhere, but she will come for them all, when she is done. Maybe even the mortal masters will crawl from their holes to wet their swords.¡±


    Jori twitched at that name. ¡°Zijeregh? The whisperer is there?¡± She would have to warn Bernt. He needed to know. She paced back and forth over the even, glassy ground, grinding her teeth. How could Bernt fight mind magic by himself ¨C especially from a powerful demon like that? He hadn¡¯t even been able to defend himself against a kobold sorcerer a few months ago. If he knew, then maybe¡­ but he didn¡¯t know, did he?


    She would just have to wait until he contacted her, and hope that it wasn¡¯t too late. She''d talk to the others, see if they could think of a good strategy. Besides, they didn''t have to sit still, here. If Zijeregh was going to fight, then they needed to be prepared to take advantage if she lost. She turned to Lidis, eyes glowing red.


    ¡°Do you know where Zijeregh was on this side ¨C in the hells?¡±