《Heritage of the Blood》


 Historical Narrative: Part 1

    Year 3034 AGD (After the Great Disaster)


    Month: Orange Blossoms


    Lion¡¯s Heart Tavern


    Continent of Telleros


    City of Dun¡¯Dalas


    ¡°Unbelievable!¡± one of the patrons of the Lion¡¯s Heart Tavern said, watching the bard as one might a street magician, trying to figure out the exact moment that they had been fooled.


    ¡°Aye, it sounds unbelievable to those of us who haven¡¯t had to survive on that hellish continent they call Terroval.¡± The old bard took a sip of his ale, sweeping the room with his eyes over the rim of his mug. He could see that he had the attention of almost the entire common room, the one exception being the cloaked figure in the corner under the stairs. For the life of him, he could not figure out if the man¡¯s head was drooped in drunkenness or a need to conceal his face. A slight frown ghosted across the bard¡¯s features, but he quickly got them under control before the mug moved away from his face.


    If one were to make a list of traits often associated with bards, vanity would be near the top, and he was no exception to that rule. Being the center of attention and having the ability to capture an entire room with the resonance of your voice was one of the largest draws to the lifestyle. Even one head failing to turn felt like a personal affront to anyone in the trade, yet there always seemed to be someone who wasn¡¯t in the mood to be entertained. As the bard was getting ready to speak again, a new voice joined the conversation.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying that an average man from Terroval could best even the greatest of our soldiers?¡±


    The bard turned smoothly, facing the direction the question had emanated from; he always found it best to look a man in the eye when you were trying to get a point across. Normally, he would have tried to laugh the question away, but as his gaze settled on the man who had asked it, he decided that might not be a good idea this time. His arrival at this decision was instant upon seeing the man¡¯s size and current attire. The fellow was one of the biggest he had seen in this part of the world and also happened to be wearing the uniform of Her Royal Majesty¡¯s personal guard. In his many travels, the bard had learned that it was best not to get on the wrong side of the local law enforcers, as it usually led to prolonged encounters and unplanned accommodations.


    ¡°Well, lad, as fine as the soldiers on the continent of Telleros are¡ªthe best of whom are right here in the city of Dun¡¯Dalas, in Her Majesty¡¯s Royal Guard¡ªyour question isn¡¯t quite fair. You see, in the land of Terroval, there are more than a few female warriors, too, and I would put just about any one of them up against any of the regular soldiers in Dun¡¯Dalas.¡± I¡¯d put ¡®em up against the royal ones too, you big ox. The bard kept that thought to himself, though, which he considered to be one of his wiser ideas of late.


    ¡°You¡¯re crazy, old man. There¡¯s no way a woman could beat one of our fine soldiers!¡± The barkeep¡¯s statement led to a round of cheers from his patrons. He was expected to be patriotic; the majority of his clientele were soldiers. It looked like the bartender might have done some soldiering in his younger days, as well. Not only did he hold himself like a man who knew the benefits of being ready to fight at a moment¡¯s notice, but the scar that traced his jaw from ear to chin spoke of a man who was no stranger to combat.


    One of the patrons who had remained silent throughout most of the discussion decided it was time to put in his two coppers¡¯ worth. ¡°I¡¯d listen to him if I was you, Sal. My grandfather became a sailor after he retired, and the ship he served on would dock at the city of Safeharbor, on the west coast of Terroval, once or twice a year. I don¡¯t have to tell you that not many a ship would make that trek ¡®cause of the creatures that dwell in those waters. We¡¯ve all heard the tales of the squid what swallow ships whole, and that¡¯s the most believable story out of the lot.¡±


    The barkeep and many of the others nodded as he spoke. They had heard the stories, and most would consider you a fool if you didn¡¯t believe at least half of them to be true. Too many of them had seen beasts that defied explanation over the years and had come to the realization long ago that, if there were such creatures on land or in the air, there were probably worse in the sea. The room fell quiet, everyone contemplating the man¡¯s simple statement. The effect broke as the man shook himself, as if physically forcing such thoughts aside before continuing.


    ¡°Having a few days in port, the sailors decided to stretch their sea legs and explore the city. On the second day, they found themselves on top of one of the massive walls. As far as they could see, there were lush grasslands. Thinking it a shame to see such beautiful fields and not have a stroll or an afternoon nap in ¡®em, they decided to explore the countryside. As the gates were getting ready to open, one of the guards at the gate looked at my grandfather and said, ¡®May you always strike true, and your enemy falter.¡¯


    ¡°My grandfather was taken aback by the statement and asked if it was really that dangerous out there. The guard said, ¡®You¡¯re not from around these parts, are you?¡¯ My grandfather told me that simple statement made him feel smaller than any insult ever thrown at him in his entire life. The guard told them to wait while he got permission from the captain to accompany them on their walk, and it was a good thing for my grandfather that he did.¡±


    The man looked around the room and seemed surprised that everyone was listening to him.


    ¡°They¡¯d been out of town for about an hour, walking through the green fields northeast of Safeharbor, when they felt the ground begin to shake. The sailors started yelling about tremors, and my grandfather was starting to agree before he saw what the guard who¡¯d joined ¡®em for their walk was doing. The man had his ear to the ground, listening to the earth. He was only there for a moment before he hopped up, slid the crossbow from his back, and commanded silence. My grandfather said he¡¯d never seen sailors shut up as fast as they did when that man spoke.¡±


    Barks of laughter burst forth from a few of the men spread around the bar; they knew how rowdy sailors could get when away from their boats. But as the story continued, the laughter quickly died.


    ¡°The guard said that the tremors were being caused by a pack of what he called grim¡¯le¡ªgiant reptiles that run on their hind legs. Their talons are as long and sharp as swords, and they have rows of teeth like sharks. He explained this all in such a tone that not one man there spoke a word of doubt. Pointing to the nearest hill behind them, the guard ordered everyone to the top as quick as they could, another order they followed without question.¡±


    At this point, the man took a large swig of his ale, and many in the room followed suit, their mouths suddenly parched.


    ¡°Atop the hill,¡± he went on, ¡°the guard cocked his crossbow and placed the bolt moments before the creatures crested the next rise over. All of the men were in a panic at seeing the giant reptiles, and several of them started running in the opposite direction of the oncoming predators. My grandfather told me he thought about running, too, which I hardly believed, but he decided not to when he looked at the guard and saw him shaking his head at the fleeing men before turning his attention back to the oncoming grim¡¯le and taking aim at the pack.¡±


    The room was so silent that the bard couldn¡¯t help but feel some admiration for the man who was now telling the story. Somehow, he had even managed to gain the attention of the man in the corner under the stairs, whose ear was now pointed towards the conversation.


    ¡°THWACK,¡± the man said suddenly, some nearby people jumping when he slammed his hand down on the bar. ¡°The bolt caught the head of the lead reptile and ripped completely through, hitting the creature behind it, as well. My grandfather counted them as they came running at him; thirteen, including the two that the guard downed.¡±


    The bard saw several men in the room making a sign against evil or mumbling a prayer under their breaths. Few soldiers survived long if they weren¡¯t at least a little superstitious.


    ¡°The guard calmly cocked his crossbow, placed another bolt, and sighted in on the raptors twice more before they started up the hill the men were on. By that time, seven of the creatures were left, and my grandfather was wishing he¡¯d run, after all. But he knew by the speed of the lizards approaching that he wouldn¡¯t have been able to run far. He did the only thing he knew to do: he pulled out his short sword, wishing he had his war hammer instead, and said a prayer to Ragn¨®s. The guard told him to stay back and defend the rest of the men before he dropped his crossbow, pulled his longsword, and charged down the hill.¡±


    Everyone raised an eyebrow at that, even the big man from the Royal Guard. That guard had either been stupid or very good.


    ¡°Now, you¡¯ve all heard about my grandfather when he did his time in the Queen¡¯s Guard?¡±


    Everyone around him nodded, and the burly Royal Guardsman surprised everyone by saying, ¡°Aye, we¡¯ve all heard of him. Hell, most of us want to be him. One of the strongest, quickest men who did ever protect the queen, and she was sad the day that his time was up. I¡¯ve often heard Her Majesty say she wished she had a guard as good as her mother had.¡± He grimaced at that admonition but continued his statement. ¡°His war hammer is still in the armory on display, and I¡¯ll tell you, I can hardly lift the thing. ¡®Tis said he could swing it like it was a light war hammer.¡± The giant of a man shook his head. ¡°Aye, we¡¯ve heard of him.¡±


    The storyteller nodded and made sure everyone was listening before he said, ¡°Then you know that my grandfather was unused to being told what to do. But, for some reason, he realized that this man knew his business. He saw the crossbow lying on the ground and picked it up, surprised at the heft of it, and he tried to cock the string into place.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, tried?¡± the Royal Guardsman intoned.


    ¡°Just what I said¡­ he tried to. I remember him shaking his head at the memory when telling me that he wasn¡¯t able to pull it back even an inch, let alone the full foot or more needed to latch the thing.¡±


    ¡°Was there some sort of trick to it, maybe? A release?¡± the guardsman asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s the funny part. My grandfather swept his eyes across it and couldn¡¯t see one, and by the time he gave up looking for one, the ground had stopped shaking. He looked up and saw what was left of the pack at the bottom of the hill; the beasts were stopped and looking up at the lone figure running down towards them. Well, their confusion didn¡¯t last long. What most of them probably saw at that point was an easy lunch.¡±


    He shook his head and leaned on the bar before taking another swig. ¡°My grandfather didn¡¯t even realize how big the grim¡¯le were until he saw that guard running down the hill and those creatures coming up it. They were twice the height of any man in this room.¡± He looked at the big guardsman and nodded. ¡°Yes, even you, Ulysus. My grandfather was saying another prayer, to the god of death instead of the god of war this time, asking Ol¡¯ Thom to watch his soul and guide it to the plains. The guard¡¯s steps got faster and faster, and my grandfather couldn¡¯t even see the man¡¯s feet touching the ground as he lengthened his stride.


    ¡°About ten paces from the reptiles, the man jumped into the air, planting his sword firmly into the skull of one of those creatures. He¡¯d pulled the blade back out and landed a few good-sized paces behind its body before it had even crumpled to the ground. Four of the six remaining beasts screeched and moved to surround him as he took down another of their number. The other two continued to rush up the hill towards my grandfather and his three remaining companions. All of them were good soldiers who had fought with him for years; none would leave his side.¡±


    ¡°The first grim¡¯le was upon them in the blink of an eye, and my grandfather barely dodged out of the way of its talons, which instead caught the man directly behind him, who wasn¡¯t fast enough. My grandfather told me that those next few moments were the longest of his life. The scaly beast moved like lightning, its claws and teeth sharper than any well-honed blade. By the end of the fight, two of the three men with him were dead, and the other would have to re-learn the sword. The creature lay dying from all of the wounds the men had given it, and my grandfather looked around for the second one. It had ignored them, running past the four armed sailors to go after the ones who had fled. It didn¡¯t take long to hear their screams from the other side of the hill.


    ¡°As he looked down to where the last four reptiles had stopped to fight the guard, he expected to see the worst. Instead, what he saw was the guard facing off against the only grim¡¯le still standing. The animals had moved like lightning, but this one seemed to move more like molasses when compared to the speed with which the guard moved. The man swept in and made three stabs before the creature could even swing his claw.¡±


    Now everyone in the room drew a collective gasp. ¡°You¡¯re making that up, Leo. There¡¯s no way anyone can move that fast,¡± a soldier said, but the way his voice raised an octave at the end seemed to make it more of a question.


    Leo simply shrugged and said, ¡°That¡¯s the story my grandfather told me.¡±


    If anyone else had any doubts about the truth of the account, they were not spoken. No one wanted to talk badly about the man¡¯s grandfather.


    The old bard walked over to him and clasped him on the shoulder. ¡°Well spoken, friend, and every word of it rang with truth in my ears.¡± His vocal tone and sudden movement managed to gather all the eyes in the tavern to himself. ¡°See, this is what I was trying to tell you. One of the greatest men you have heard of in Dun¡¯Dalas, and he was outdone by a simple guard.¡±


    He saw the arguments coming from the posture that some of the men had assumed and put up his hand to forestall the comments. ¡°Hold, friends. I am not trying to demean you, and I do not wish a fight. My duty is simply to inform and to carry the truth amongst the common folk of the land. Have no doubt that the guard who accompanied this man¡¯s grandfather into those lands was an excellent warrior, however, rank in Protectorate is determined by prowess and the deeds a soldier has accomplished. This man may not have been a low guard. Maybe he was a sergeant or a lieutenant. But he asked his captain if he could go, and his captain is even better than he is, and the line continues up the chain of command.¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°But how is that possible?¡± another man who sat at one of tables asked resignedly. He looked around at everyone else in the room. ¡°I don¡¯t think there is one of us in this room who doubts the word of his grandfather, but how can men be so strong?¡±


    The old bard scanned the room, noticing that the person in the corner now had his head fully up, but the bard still couldn¡¯t catch the visage of the figure inside the darkness of the cloak¡¯s hood. Now that the bard had everyone¡¯s attention, it was time for the main event.


    ¡°Now, that¡¯s where the real story begins,¡± he said with a grin and a flourish.


    ¡°About five thousand years ago, the world was in upheaval. Evil was growing stronger, overrunning the civilized kingdoms. The leaders of the nations convened with their military commanders and the Wizards¡¯ Guild. They concluded that the evil had to be stopped at all costs before it destroyed all of Terrazil.


    ¡°The wizards argued that they could not simply wipe evil from the world because it would upset the balance, and somehow they persuaded the nobles and the military that that was the truth of things. So, instead of completely purging the world of the enemy, they managed to capture most of the armies in barriers and send them through spacial displacement traps¡ªteleport traps, as the general public likes to call them. They were sent to the continent of Terroval, whose only residents at the time were several large tribes of orcs and some goblin-kin. Those enemies they couldn¡¯t catch in their traps or who didn¡¯t go to the continent when given the choice were eradicated.¡±


    The bard paused there, raising his eyebrow and giving the room time to absorb what he had just said. After he saw that some of them were beginning to understand that it was their ancestors that had done such a thing, he continued.


    ¡°Everything went well for a time. Even crime became more uncommon than anyone had believed possible. To those foolish enough to believe so, it seemed that evil was losing its power.


    ¡°But that wasn¡¯t the case in Terroval. All creatures of an evil nature or with malicious intent had been sent to live on one continent, and it became a proving ground. Kill or be killed became the new edict of Terroval, and only the strongest would survive.


    ¡°The wizards monitored the situation sporadically over the years and finally realized that something had to be done. A thousand years after the creatures had been sent away, the same three groups who had worked together to trap the evil came together again for a conference on what should be done about the new situation.


    ¡°And so the Terrazil Protectorate was formed. It was comprised of the wizards, to be the guiding force; the military, to be the physical might; and the nobles, to be the face of the Protectorate. The wizards would come to be known as the mages of Terrazil when they started allowing other magic users into their order, and the military would soon become the knights of Terrazil. Several royal houses came together during that time and somehow figured out a pecking order. From those castes, the royal house of Terrazil was born. Two hundred years after the process began, the first true members of the Protectorate touched Terroval soil.¡±


    The bartender put a drink down in front of the bard, giving the man tacit approval. Nodding to the barkeep, he took a swig and let his enjoyment of the beverage show on his face before returning to his tale.


    ¡°The early years on Terroval were tough, and many men were lost. The members of the Protectorate could see that they were fighting a losing battle, but they struggled on. It has been whispered that the good dragons of the world took note of these men¡¯s courage and tenacity in the face of certain doom. The dragons knew that their own time was soon coming to an end. Fewer and fewer of their kind were being born every generation. They knew that in 10,000 years, hardly any of their kind would remain to sentinel the world as they had since the beginning times.


    ¡°Those who believe these stories say that the Great Golden Dragon Elyalyas was the first to come forth with a plan for dragonkind and the future of all of the races of the Protectorate. The Council of Nine decided in secret that the dragons would mix their blood with the good creatures of Terroval. Dragons who agreed to this willed themselves to permanently take the form of the race that they held in the highest esteem, thereby changing their base structure, allowing the blood of the mighty dragons to flow through the veins of the lesser races while still maintaining the chosen race¡¯s visage¡­¡±


    Every eye in the tavern remained fixed on him in rapt attention as the bard¡¯s voice rose and fell in an almost hypnotizing pattern. His purr of satisfaction was almost audible.


    3784 years ago


    750 years BGD (Before the Great Disaster)


    Continent of Terroval


    City of South Harbor


    Alexander Dalton was surprised to see ships sailing into the bay of South Harbor. There were no ships expected, and thus far, surprises on this continent had been anything but good. Two dozen large ships coming into view on an unfriendly coastline was, in fact, not something he was equipped to handle. Immediately, he issued orders. The guards who didn¡¯t want latrine duty for a month would report to the courtyard in ten minutes, battle ready. There was no hope of sending for a mage before the ships were in firing range, and it was too early to rouse the king or any of his lackeys. He hoped such a display of readiness would dissuade any hostile actions.


    Five minutes later, all four thousand men who weren¡¯t on duty at the walls or bedridden stood at attention in thirty-two rows in the courtyard. Some were still donning their armor, but they were there. Alexander was proud of his men and the discipline he enforced amongst his ranks.


    He marched them down to the harbor, where the ships were waiting about two hundred yards off port, arranged them in four lines of a thousand, and told them to have their crossbows at the ready. He didn¡¯t have to tell them not to fire until he gave the command; they were trained well enough for that.


    A small boat was making its way towards the shore. There were seven people in the craft, three of whom stood looking towards the shore, while the other four rowed the vessel. Alexander could see no weapons on board, but something made him uneasy. The woman in the boat caught his eye immediately, and he had the feeling he had seen her before. She looked stronger than most of the women he had known, but her curves declared to all, without a doubt, that she was a woman.


    Her hair reminded him of sunset¡ªlight red from one angle, darker red from the next, and always changing. She looked directly into his eyes as the little boat approached. He was sure that she hadn¡¯t looked anywhere else before that. Just straight into his eyes. Hers were the color of a calm sea, blue with just the faintest hint of green. Those eyes tickled the wisp of a memory in the back of his mind, and the look she gave him was one for an old acquaintance too long unseen.


    ¡°Excuse me, but may we come ashore?¡± The question came from the man who stood at the front of the boat, his voice sounding more used to oratory than casual conversation.


    As if the man¡¯s voice were an alarm bell, Alexander pulled his gaze from the woman to fully take in her companions. A small part of his mind rebuked him. Good thing you looked for weapons before she looked up, or you could be a dead man. The next thought that occurred to him in that brief moment: She¡¯s gonna be trouble.


    The man who had asked the question was one of the largest dwarves Alexander had ever seen. His skin was a golden hue, his beard had a golden sheen, and he possessed arms that looked as worked by the forge as they looked used to working one. The old dwarf looked from Alexander and back to his female companion, shaking his head with what Alexander would later swear was a slight grin.


    The third of the strange company was a tall and well-built elf whose hair was like spun silver and whose eyes were deep pools of mercury. Alexander waved them towards the shore. As they got out of the boat, he noticed that they moved awkwardly. It reminded him of a butterfly just emerging from its cocoon, newly formed and unused to having wings. He wasn¡¯t sure why that image came to mind, but it felt right. Except that it might be the other way around this time. Assuming it was from their being on board a ship for too long, he shrugged that thought away.


    Given the signal, his lieutenant welcomed the party ashore and brought them over to face the assembled knights. The lieutenant saluted sharply before speaking. ¡°Gentlemen and lady, I have the honor of presenting you to High Commander Alexander Dalton of the Knights of Terrazil, last in the line of defense against the evils that would ravish our world.¡±


    Alexander groaned inwardly at the last part, and all three of the newcomers quirked their eyebrows at the statement, but no one argued the point.


    ¡°Commander Dalton, it¡¯s good to meet you. I¡¯ve heard many good things,¡± the dwarf said in his gruff, yet commanding, voice. ¡°My name is Elyas, and this is Ranadin and the lady Tyrdra. We¡¯ve come to help you, and we¡¯ve brought some five thousand odd men and women to do it.¡±


    ¡°Five thousand!¡± the lieutenant said excitedly before regaining his composure. The three looked at him as if he were a fly under a magnifying glass.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive Lieutenant O¡¯Hearly. We brought fifteen thousand here to begin the fight, but we¡¯ve already lost five thousand in skirmishes across the plains. How many of your men can fight, and where are you from?¡± Alexander grimaced at the admission of the losses they had suffered thus far. He wasn¡¯t happy that they had so greatly underestimated the dangers that this land possessed.


    The dwarf put a grin on his face and tucked his fingers behind his belt. ¡°All of us¡ªmen and women both¡ªare here to help you, Commander, and I think you¡¯ll find we make good soldiers, though I¡¯ve been told about five hundred want to train with your mages.¡± He didn¡¯t sound too pleased at that, but it was understandable. Most dwarves didn¡¯t enjoy thoughts of magic.


    Five hundred¡­ Light! ¡°That would be more than appreciated if they have the talent for it. There are currently only twenty-five wizards stationed here. There were thirty, but we seem to have bitten off a bit more than we can chew. If it isn¡¯t the Dracair killing my men, it is some other horror that this land has managed to spawn. I just want your people to know what they¡¯re getting into, should you decide to stay.¡±


    ¡°Oh, lad¡­ we know what we¡¯re getting ourselves into, and we welcome it wholeheartedly.¡± A whimsically sad look came across his face. ¡°If our peoples are to survive, this has to happen.¡±


    At that sentiment, all three of them nodded solemnly, and Alexander couldn¡¯t help but feel like he had missed something in the quiet exchange.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s vital work,¡± Alexander said, needing something to fill the silence, before giving the signal for his men to relax. The signal meant that they still needed to be prepared for anything, but hostile intent wasn¡¯t suspected.


    As the ships docked and started unloading, it seemed that every race Alexander Dalton had ever seen in his well-traveled life disembarked the vessels. There were even orcs. He almost commanded them to be held captive, but Elyas explained that they would be going into the hills and working with the orc tribes, who were also victims in this affair. Alexander couldn¡¯t quite think of orcs as victims, but he was glad to be getting rid of them. And an ogre! The forces at his command were comprised mainly of the populous races that were considered civilized. He was proud of the fact that his numbers included a few of the races that normally didn¡¯t mingle with humankind, but the variety of creatures coming off of these boats was staggering. He was watching that flow of bodies coming out of the ships when Tyrdra walked up beside him.


    ¡°Shall we walk, my lord?¡± she said in a sweet, sultry voice, eyeing him like a butcher appraising a slab of meat. From what he could tell, she liked what she saw. He didn¡¯t see any harm in going for a walk. My goodness, it is a nice day. Of course, he would be quoted later as saying he never could quite think clearly when she was around and that he agreed to just about all of her suggestions. She was usually right, anyway, whether he thought so at the time or not.


    ¡°I am not a lord. I was born in the country,¡± he said before offering her his arm.


    ¡°Ah, but you are a commander of men, and a good one from what I¡¯ve seen, thus making you a lord of men; thus, making you a lord,¡± she said, all while smiling up at him with eyes that held too much wisdom for her age.


    By Arroval, she is beautiful! he thought before replying aloud, ¡°Well, be that as it may, you may call me Alexander.¡±


    ¡°I would rather call you husband.¡±


    Instead of tripping over his own feet¡ªwhich, at the time, was one of two options¡ªhe stopped and stared at her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I think I missed a step¡­ can we go back to that?¡±


    ¡°I said I would rather call you husband, and I think you would rather call me wife. I have known you for years, and you have known me.¡±


    I have known you¡­ by the light, we just met. How would I¡ªhis mind raced back to childhood, to when he had first seen his guardian, that great winged beast. Those to whom he had described it had called it a dragon. It had saved him from a fall that would surely have ended his life. From there, his mind sped forward to a long-ago dream in which a beautiful woman sat on his bed, telling him not to go into battle the next morning, for it was a trap¡ªa dream that had saved not only his own life, but the lives of his men, as well. Forward again, to a familiar voice in the back of his head telling him to apply for the commission to the continent of Terroval to command the knights, a position for which he had thought himself unqualified.


    The sea danced at sunset as she smiled, knowing he had remembered. ¡°See, my love? I¡¯ve been with you since you were a child, and I shall be with you until you die. Our children shall be the salvation of both of our peoples, and your name will be remembered for as long as our blood flows through the veins of our progeny.¡±


    That night, the men and women of the Terrazil Protectorate had two things to celebrate: five thousand men and women had arrived to help in the fight, and their commander, whom they had thought lived and breathed war, had found himself a wife.


    Back in the Lion¡¯s Heart Tavern


    ¡°Thanks to the newcomers, the Protectorate¡¯s numbers grew, and their chances of defeating what was previously thought to be a vastly superior enemy seemed to be increasing exponentially.


    ¡°No one knew for sure where those five thousand and more people had come from. Some speculated that they were the gods themselves, come down to aid mankind. Others said they were manifestations of Terrazil herself, brought forth to aid in the battle. I, for one, believe the story that the newcomers were, in fact, the good dragons of the world who had taken the form of the races of Terrazil. We may never know if this is true, but one thing is certain: the five thousand reinforcements are what kept the people of what was then called South Harbor alive.


    ¡°For seven hundred and fifty years, they defended the land. The city of South Harbor grew prosperous and expanded greatly. They produced enough children and had enough outsiders migrate in from the mainland to bring their population to upwards of a million people. Three fourths of the city¡¯s population were in the Protectorate in one form or another, and the other fourth fulfilled the necessary duties to keep the city working efficiently.¡± The old bard looked at all of the expectant faces and smiled.


    ¡°What happened next?¡± a kid who had managed to sneak into the bar without anyone noticing asked. This made the room erupt in bursts of laughter. The bard ruffled the boy¡¯s hair and grabbed a new drink before walking to the center of the room. Chairs screeched on the floor as people moved so that they could see this grand spinner of tales more clearly.


    ¡°Ah, yes, what happened next? Well, we have all heard of the Great Disaster that occurred three thousand odd years ago, and we know the upheaval that it brought, but the tribulations faced in the civilized lands were trivial compared to the disasters that were wrought upon the land of Terroval. Winter is a common thing in Terroval, and the harshest winter was welcome compared to some of the dangers the people of the Protectorate often faced there. This, however, was unexpected. And, as we all know, it¡¯s the thing that sneaks up on you quietly that you need to be the most cautious of.


    ¡°People had begun referring to Terroval as The Anvil and to the creatures that inhabited the continent as The Hammer. Over a few generations, changes had become more apparent in the people that lived in South Harbor. Since the land was harsh, only the strongest survived, and this had an effect that was unexpected by most. The people were getting stronger, faster, smarter, and more adaptable than ever before.


    ¡°Yet, to their misfortune, this phenomenon was also occurring amongst the enemy¡¯s numbers. In point of fact, they¡¯d had at the least a thousand years more of this effect than did the members of the Protectorate. They had been sending their weakest into battle against the forces that opposed them and using their strongest to oppose the enemies from within.


    ¡°A semblance of calm had settled on the land, and the members of the Protectorate had seen this as a sign that they were winning their war. However, there were a few amongst them who knew what was coming; they had inherent abilities from their parents and grandparents. Some could feel the coming storm. Some could feel the approach of death¡­¡±

 Historical Narrative: Part 2

    The year of The Great Disaster


    City of South Harbor


    ¡°Greatest Grandmother, we have done as you have asked. The caves beneath the city have been cleared and entrances have been made. Do you know what exactly will happen?¡± The young man who spoke was of good build and had the look of a man you could trust to do what needed to be done.


    ¡°You know, you look just like him. Those few of us who are still around to remember him all agree that you are like him, too, and I think he would be proud of you, Dalton,¡± she said. Although she appeared to be in her middle years, her hair was still as red as it had ever been. She was proud of that fact. Alexander had always loved it. He had said he loved everything about her, but she knew that he had been especially fond of her hair.


    She still was not used to aging as rapidly as she did now. Dragons could live seemingly forever if circumstances allowed, and though she had been in human form for seven hundred and fifty years, she still felt the effects of aging. That had been the exchange: their near immortality for fertility and the ability to reproduce with the other species without leaving too much of an outward mark of their draconic heritage.


    If she or any of the others had the choice to make again, she knew they wouldn¡¯t choose differently. She¡¯d had fifty-seven glorious years with a man she truly loved, and though she¡¯d had to watch him age and die, he had given her ten lovely children over those years¡ªsix girls and four boys, each of whom had married, had children, and died. There had been losses over the years, but her family was still large, and most of them were high in the ranks of the military and amongst the mages.


    The Council of Nine, which was now really only seven, still met regularly and held fast despite their reduction in number. It was no longer any secret that the people who had come to Terroval seven hundred and fifty years ago were not normal, but only select members of the families knew the truth. She could feel the approaching darkness. She knew that the time of change was once again upon the people of South Harbor. The dragons had always held the position of watchers over the world, and they still fulfilled that role to the best of their ability, even thought it was much more difficult now.


    Five generations ago, one of her grandchildren had married a noble by the name of Theromvore. Since then, that had been the dominant branch of the family. In respect to the much smaller branch of the family that still carried the name Dalton, Tyrdra had asked her favorite granddaughter to name her next son after their progenitor. By fate, luck, or a cruel sense of humor, Dalton Alexander Theromvore was the spitting image of his namesake. And that, if nothing else, gave her hope for the Protectorate¡¯s future.


    ¡°The approaching darkness is not a natural cycle of events. Something is guiding these events, and they are beyond even our sight. The council and those remaining members of the newcomers will face this battle in full. Remember, if any survive, you are not to tell your children of their heritage. If there are some strong enough in the blood to remember on their own, that cannot be helped, and they should remember enough to keep it to themselves.


    ¡°There are many different peoples in South Harbor now. The giants who have joined us will help you with the rebuilding, if such is even possible. When the time comes, you must lead those who will follow down into the caverns and not come out for three years. Fresh water flows through the lower tunnels, and we have put a large cistern down there that should be able to last for some time if that gets contaminated. Have the livestock been moved down yet?¡±


    The young man nodded and then frowned at the woman he respected more than anyone else in the world. She had been his mother when his had died after his birth, his teacher who had prepared him for what he would face in the world. She had instilled in him a belief in the defense of himself, those under his command, and those in need. In substance, she was the most remarkable person he had ever met, and the loss of her would be a detriment to them all.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why you cannot come with us,¡± he said. ¡°The people will need a guiding hand. We cannot afford to lose you.¡±


    ¡°Dalton, I have taught you all that I know. You are as good a leader as my husband was, if not better. If anyone can guide our people through this disaster, it will be you and our family. You must promise me one thing, however. You must never change the face of the Protectorate. The branches must remain separate, or there will be no chance of success in the future.¡± She placed her hand on his face and kissed him on the forehead. ¡°You know what must be done. I can tell you this much and no more.¡±


    The man nodded again, kissing her twice¡ªone kiss for the hand of his mentor and the second for the forehead of his grandmother. ¡°I know there is more to this than you can tell me, and I understand the wisdom of the Council, but why must we keep our heritage from our children?¡±


    ¡°There will come a time, many generations from now, when the blood of our line will mingle seamlessly with the blood of another. A child born from such a union could be of immense importance, and not only to our world. History teaches us that a strong heritage and self-identity allows a civilization to stay strong for a time, yet if they are too strongly rooted in their own history and importance, they will begin to atrophy as the world around them moves on without them.


    ¡°We believe that once the Protectorate has advanced to be on equal or greater footing than the Dracair, there will be a divide amongst its various factions, and many will leave to create their own cities. Some will fail, but those who succeed will become stronger for it. If that separation does not occur when it should, we believe it will take eons to be born. By then, it will be too late for our world to save itself. Those of us who underwent the transformation are the only ones capable of striking the blow that will give the Protectorate the best possible odds of that separation occurring.¡±


    ¡°It shall be done as you have asked,¡± the young man said before he turned and walked out of the room, holding the image of what he knew would be the last time he would ever see his grandmother. Goodbye, Grandmother. Goodbye, Tyrdra.


    The Lion¡¯s Heart Tavern


    ¡°Of course, we may never know with certainty what drove those people to the caves underneath the city that day. Those of us who have enough wits believe that the newcomers truly were dragonkind and that they had been gifted with a foretelling. I believe they realized that it was the only way to keep the men and women of the Protectorate alive, and maybe a bit of their own blood with it. Whatever the case may be, it saved some two hundred thousand of the nearly one million people who lived in the town of South Harbor.¡±


    ¡°The storms that raged across the face of Terrazil were only shadows of the tempest that raged on the continent of Terroval; it quickly became obvious to the rest of the world where the storms were emanating from. A messenger came to all the lords of the land, telling them to keep as many of their people as they could in a safe place and wait until the storms had abated. The message also said that the problem in the land of Terroval was being taken care of.¡±


    The bard walked back to the bar to put down his empty mug before returning to the center of the room. He had clearly enthralled all of the room and was not going to let them go until he had finished. ¡°No one knows for sure what happened in the year that the storms raged, but rumors came out of Terroval some years later that there had been a strategic strike against the darkness that had gripped the land. It was said that newcomers themselves led the charge against the forces that wished the Protectorate¡¯s destruction. Of course, that would mean that some of them were upwards of eight hundred years old at the time.¡±


    No one in the room laughed at that. After hearing this story, it seemed to them that it might have been the newcomers leading the charge.


    Good. It is time that the people of these lands come to realize the truth of things. The bard continued, ¡°All of that devastation put the civilized world back a thousand years. Most of what had been built was lost, and more than a few of the people who knew the secrets of metallurgy and Shaping were lost in the storms.


    ¡°The tempests abated in the third month of the year that would become known as The Rebirth. The peoples of the civilized world were able to come together to re-create their kingdoms. It was a slow, tedious process, but order reasserted itself after a few hundred years, and civilization was reborn from the ashes of destruction.


    ¡°But alas, the land of Terroval was a completely different story. Dalton Theromvore had kept his people below ground for three years, though no one fully understood why he waited so long. There were times when the earth would shake, and the people were sure that the land above would collapse upon them. There were relatively few losses, however, and the people respected Dalton enough to listen to his advice.¡±


    Year 3 AGD


    Ruins of South Harbor


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°How could this have happened, Leodric?¡±


    ¡°I am not certain, my lord. It could be that the continent shifted, or that the poles became colder and absorbed more moisture, dropping the level of the ocean. It could be a mixture of both. It is an amazing phenomenon, though, my lord.¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t call me that. I work for a living,¡± Dalton said while studying the landscape in front of him.


    ¡°Yes, of course, my lord,¡± Leodric said. Dalton sighed.


    ¡°Well, it seems to me that this is a perfect military structure for rebuilding. I guess I don¡¯t need to know how it happened¡ªjust what we can do with it. A three-hundred-foot cliff where there used to be a beach. Two walls of solid rock at least a hundred feet tall, jutting into the sea, creating a near half circle with a break in the middle just large enough for any ship to pass through¡±¡ªDalton shrugged¡ª¡°it seems a bit convenient to me.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord, it does seem rather odd. But I have always found it wise not to question a gift from the gods. Perhaps it is Cypheria, goddess of protection, who is shielding us in her arms. Whatever the cause, m¡¯lord, you are correct about it being a highly defensible position. If I am correct, that water going into the sea from the wall down there is the same water that has sustained us these last few years. If that is the case, we should be able to create pathways up from the beach into the city.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant, Leodric! I was just trying to puzzle out how to get goods in, but that will work. We can get some of the giants and dwarves to punch a few holes in the wall to create paths, and we can build warehouses and other buildings in the stretch of land below, assuming they aren¡¯t underwater during parts of the year.¡±


    Leodric had brightened at the ideas of his lord and only slightly grimaced at the last part. ¡°Yes, of course we will have to make sure of that before any real building below can occur, but that must come last, anyway. We have an entire city to rebuild first.¡±


    Both men turned around to survey the area that used to hold the city of South Harbor.


    ¡°I cannot believe this level of devastation,¡± Dalton said. ¡°If you didn¡¯t know that a city had been here, it would be hard to convince anyone that those piles of rocks are where a palace stood and that crescent of rubble there was once a great wall that no enemy had ever penetrated.¡± He wanted to weep for the loss of so many of his people, for surely those who had not come below had perished, and he did not expect to hear from any of the newcomers again. Suddenly, he shielded his eyes and pointed off to the horizon. ¡°Are those mountains?¡±


    Squinting to see through the glaring sun, Leodric nodded at Dalton¡¯s assessment. ¡°It seems that our whole world has changed, m¡¯lord, and all we can do is try to adjust.¡±


    It was Dalton¡¯s turn to nod. He looked through his soldiers, who were milling about amongst the rubble, until he found a familiar face. ¡°Lieutenant,¡± he called to the fair-haired young man who was sifting through a pile of rocks nearby. The man snapped up, running over as fast as he could.


    ¡°Yes, m¡¯lord?¡± the man asked, executing a rigid salute.


    Dalton could not quite keep the growl out of his voice when he said, ¡°Go below and tell the rest that it seems safe to come out now and bring Lieutenant Commander Windsbane to me. Tetriarch Skyhammer and I have many things we need to plan, and she¡¯ll want to be included, as well.¡±


    The two men walked around the rubble, trying to find any sign of survivors, but mainly enjoying the crisp open air. One did not realize just how stuffy cave air was until he came out into the open again. Soon, a buxomly, beautiful young woman silently joined them on their walk. Of course, any man who openly referred to her as such would probably find himself in a duel with one of the best swordsmen in the Protectorate.


    Marisa Windsbane¡¯s hair was a light, strawberry blond that came from one of Dalton¡¯s uncles; she¡¯d gotten the curves from her mother. Luckily for her, her father was one of the top fighters among the knights and her mother was the best dancer on the continent. She was grace and deadliness all rolled into one lovely package. She was also one of the most tactically sound people Dalton had under his command.


    ¡°You asked for me, m¡¯lord?¡± she said, saluting with fist to heart.


    ¡°Why does everyone keep calling me that?¡± He returned the salute. ¡°What ever happened to just plain sir?¡±


    Marisa exchanged a glance with Leodric, her face broadening into a smile. ¡°You haven¡¯t told him yet, have you?¡±


    ¡°Told me what?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it necessary quite yet, Marisa,¡± Leodric said blithely, putting on a smile of his own.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t think what was necessary?¡±


    ¡°Well, he has to learn of it sooner or later. It might as well be from us.¡± Marisa could barely contain her laughter.


    ¡°Learn what?¡±


    ¡°True, but should you tell him, or should I?¡± Leodric said, trying to pretend that Dalton wasn¡¯t right next to him.


    ¡°Tell me what, damn it?¡±


    ¡°Oh, well, you are the tetriarch of the sorcerers, Leodric. I think it is your job.¡± Marisa barely retained an air of sobriety.


    ¡°Hello, I¡¯m right here,¡± Dalton said, waving his arms in front of the two impatiently as his voice grew cold. ¡°Do not ignore me.¡±


    ¡°True. I¡¯m afraid, though, that if one of us doesn¡¯t tell him soon, he¡¯s going to pop a blood vessel in his head. Maybe you should do the honor, High Commander Windsbane.¡±


    ¡°High Commander¡­¡± Dalton choked, feeling as if he had been slapped. ¡°Has there been a coup I wasn¡¯t told about?¡±


    ¡°He always has been overly dramatic, hasn¡¯t he?¡± she said to Leodric before turning to face Dalton. ¡°As you know, Uncle Reginald died last Eighthday, and since he didn¡¯t have any heirs, it was up to the council to decide who in the royal house would assume the throne.¡±


    ¡°Where are you going with this? I¡¯m not a royal.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but that¡¯s where you¡¯re wrong, m¡¯lord,¡± Leodric said. ¡°You see, your mother¡¯s uncle, son of Liam and Lori, was Prince Tergis before he died unexpectedly in a raid. He would have assumed the throne had he not died, but instead, his younger sibling, Prince Reginald, son of Liam and Sylia, inherited it.¡±


    Dalton stood in front of the two, glaring. ¡°This is your doing, isn¡¯t it?¡± He eyed them both equally. ¡°What if I refuse?¡±


    ¡°On the contrary, m¡¯lord,¡± Leodric said quickly, ¡°most of the royal family brought it to our attention that you were a member of the family. We simply agreed that you were the proper choice for the throne, and as for you refusing¡­¡± The tetriarch breathed deeply. ¡°You can¡¯t.¡±


    Leodric and Marisa nodded to each other and then turned to kneel before Dalton, who scowled.


    ¡°My lord, the knights stand ready and are at your disposal,¡± Marisa said before taking his hand and kissing it. ¡°We shall protect your life and the lives of your subjects to the last.¡±


    They had pulled straws to see who would go first. Marisa had drawn longest, but Leodric didn¡¯t mean to be outdone simply because he was last. ¡°My lord, being as there is no arch magus currently, the duty has fallen to me to assure you that the mages stand ready and are at your disposal. Our magic will Shape mountains at your command or lay waste to the enemies of the Protectorate. The mages can think of no one else they would rather call king, and we do so proudly.¡±


    ¡°Your Majesty, we are at your command,¡± they both managed to say together before Dalton turned around and walked in the other direction, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath.


    The two still on their knees smiled at each other. They knew he would do it. It was his duty. And they both knew that he would be a great king because he did not want to be king at all.


    The Lion¡¯s Heart Tavern


    ¡°And so, Dalton Alexander Theromvore became the king of the survivors of the Protectorate. During his reign over the next fifty years, the city was rebuilt. A new wall was constructed by the combined might of the dwarven and giant artisans and reinforced by the power of the mages. It was built to encompass a city twice the size of what South Harbor had been before The Great Disaster. The giants chiseled away at the rock wall that now protected the harbor, making it flat enough so that no man or beast could scale its surface. While the wall was being Shaped by skillful hands, the mages used their arts to strengthen it against a more subtle enemy: nature herself.


    ¡°What to call the city was a topic of discussion amongst the people, and they were divided on the subject. Some wanted it to remain South Harbor, but most thought it should be given a new name. On his deathbed, Dalton turned to his old friends, Arch Magus Leodric Skyhammer and High Commander Marisa Windsbane, telling them to guard the city well so as to keep it the safe harbor that it had become. He then told his son to rule well before he slid quietly into Thom¡¯s cold embrace. His last words were spread throughout the city, and the people agreed as one that the city would be called Safeharbor.¡±


    The old bard held up his hand to hold off question or comment. ¡°Ah, but that is not the end of the story.


    ¡°Three hundred years later,¡± he continued, ¡°there was a rift betwixt the races of the Protectorate. It still isn¡¯t understood why, but the elves decided to head north and form their own kingdom without the ¡®influence of the lesser races.¡¯ The dwarves decided shortly thereafter that they had enjoyed their time below the earth and moved away to the mountains to work within them, where the minerals for their crafts were in abundance. The giants slowly trickled out, heading northeast.


    "Members of every race had stayed behind, but at the end of the split, there were only about a hundred thousand people left in the city. Much later, it was discovered that some of the original inhabitants of South Harbor had survived the storms by moving inland. In the solace of the desert, they had found a safe haven in the form of a giant oasis. Contact later resumed between the separate groups, but by then, the family lines had evaporated, and any familial ties were only recognized within the city-states that formed out of the split. That has been the case ever since. The creatures of Terroval eventually returned in numbers large enough to wreak havoc amongst the people of the land, and the struggle for survival had, once again, returned to the continent of Terroval.¡±


    There were many somber faces in that room. Slowly, people started saying that it was late, that they should be getting home. Each one of them said his goodbye to the old bard who had opened their eyes to another world. It took the most effort to get the young boy to stop asking questions. Finally, the only people in the bar were the bard, the bartender, and the cloaked figure. The bard, knowing that the shadowed man had listened to his story with at least a bit of interest, decided to go over to see what the man had thought of it.


    ¡°Excuse me, but may I sit here?¡± He asked the question cautiously and moved to the chair at the opposite end of the man¡¯s table when he nodded. ¡°Tell me¡­ what do you think about what you heard tonight?¡±


    The throaty laugh that came from within the cloak was surprisingly high in pitch to the bard¡¯s ears. When the figure pulled back the hood, he had to struggle to keep his mouth closed.


    The woman in front of him was strikingly beautiful, even though she appeared to be in the later years of her life. Her hair was a vibrant red, and her eyes reminded him of the open sea.


    ¡°I think that you, yourself, are a man from Terroval. No one on this continent has heard that story so thoroughly before. I also think that you can drop your disguise. I know you are not an old man.¡±


    The old bard looked at her cautiously before whispering only one word. ¡°Tyrdra?¡±


    When she nodded, he had to remind himself to take a breath. As he exhaled, he let the magic woven around him fall, leaving a man in his prime with dark hair and a striking figure, but that wasn¡¯t what stood out. His eyes were those that a snake might have and aqua in color.


    ¡°That is better, Nim. Now, the Watchers have work for you back at home. The child will be born shortly, and you shall be one of his teachers.¡±


    He could only nod, dumbfounded, while she continued to instruct him.

 Prologue

    Year 3035 AGD


    Month: New Year


    Early Morning of the Firstday


    Continent of Terroval


    City of Safeharbor


    Civilian Sector


    </a>The night seemed exceptionally dark to the man dodging in and out of the shadows of the buildings in the Civilian Sector of Safeharbor. He was not the average citizen one would normally find in this part of town, nor was his mission the usual type that involved swiftly and silently traversing these streets. In fact, one could go so far as to say that these streets had never seen such a man with such an important objective.


    Anyone skilled enough to notice him would note that he was tall and lithe, his steps seeming to not even disturb the dirt that inhabited many of the shadows. Those rare few gifted enough to catch a glimpse inside his cowl would notice the sharp, angular lines of his face¡ªlines that were usually a sure indication of elven blood. Whether it was due to the confident manner in which he moved through the shadows or the determined look on his face, the seedier elements of the city steered clear this night. That decision saved many lives.


    For Lagelion Daystar was not just any elf. He was a member of the High Elven Guard and reputed to be the best warrior their ranks had ever produced. Unfortunately, as happens to many a man, his life had changed when he¡¯d met a woman. In and of itself, this is usually no cause for concern. However, this woman was human.


    The people of Terroval all knew how the High Elven Court looked down upon the other races, a large portion going so far as to say the other races were inferior, which brings us to the crux of the problem: as often occurs when a man meets a woman and falls in love, they had brought a new life into the world.


    Half-elves were not shunned by the peoples of the Protectorate, but the High Elven Court had a kill on sight policy towards what many of them referred to as ¡°half-breeds.¡± A member of the High Elven Guard having such a child was tantamount to treason in many of their eyes. It did not matter that the mother of the child was Analya Theromvore, niece to the human¡¯s king. If anything, this actually raised the danger level for the child. Not only would he have to be wary of elven assassins, but he would have to beware those of the humans and Dracair, as well. The only way Lagelion could keep his beloved wife and son alive was to find a place for the child to be raised, hidden from those who would do him harm. All must believe the boy had died at birth if any of them were to have any peace.


    As morning steadily approached, heralding the time he would be expected to be seen with his grieving wife, Lagelion¡¯s mind raced through all of the options available to him. Perhaps the boy could be taken farther out, maybe to the country. He could be raised as a farmer or a woodsman. He would be safer with some poor farmer and his wife. They might not find the boy¡­ my boy¡­ Victor.


    ¡°No!¡± His aggravation and helplessness at the situation he found himself in broke through his usually stoic demeanor. He wrapped himself and his precious bundle a little more tightly into his cloak as if it could protect both of them from what was to come. Any that heard the outburst were startled long enough to lose track of the elf as he bolted around a corner and lost himself in the darkness of the streets and his thoughts.


    There is no time for any of that. I cannot leave her alone long enough to reach such a place. There is no telling what they might do to her if I¡¯m not there to protect her. Finding that mystic is my only chance of making this work.


    He once again wondered about anyone of power who chose to live in the rat-infested, poor quarter of Safeharbor that was the Civilian Sector. The main part of the Civilian Sector was fairly nice. However, the closer you came to the Docks District, the worse the conditions were. The person he was looking for was said to live in the ramshackle buildings just inside where the Civilian Sector met the Docks District. Over the past ten months, he had held so much hope for his unborn son, but as the time of his birth came nearer, it became apparent that the High Elven Court would never allow such a child to exist.


    He had spoken to his unborn son about his hopes and dreams, much as he now whispered them to the infant he cradled in his arms as he raced through the streets. No matter how many times he apologized in advance to the boy for not being there to see him grow, the pain would not relent. He would not see his first steps, hear his first word. He might never know if Victor would take after himself and become a warrior, or if he would take after his mother and use his will to Shape the world around him as a mage. Perhaps he will forge his own path. He knew that the boy would¡ªif he could survive long enough to do so.


    Lagelion noticed that the quality of the craftsmanship put into the buildings around him was getting worse, and knew he was getting close to the part of town he was looking for. There were no nice houses with carriages in front of them here. The City Watch was not present in the same numbers as they were in the more influential neighborhoods, either. There were drunks and others who had not found a roof for the night curled up wherever they could best keep out the cool, night air.


    Is this the kind of place he was to leave his son? Nothing but poverty and violence could be found on these streets. But looking down at the sleeping child in his arms, he was suddenly, oddly optimistic.


    ¡°You are the son of a former captain of the High Elven Court,¡± Lagelion whispered. ¡°If anyone can survive, or even thrive, in such a place, it will be you. This is one of the few places where you might be safe from those who would harm you.¡±


    As he turned another corner, he noticed the horizon was beginning to fight back the dark of night and knew he did not have much longer. If he didn¡¯t find the mystic now, he would have to find some young couple to take care of his boy. Thieves and scoundrels made up the majority of the people in this part of town, but he knew there were those who were simply down on their luck here as well. I may have to abandon you, my son, but I would die before I left you with some common criminal.


    As he looked about himself, he knew that finding an honest couple in this part of town would be like trying to find an honest man in a merchants¡¯ guild. They were here, but you would more than likely lose quite a bit of coin before you found them. He could sense more people becoming aware of his presence and knew it would become even more dangerous the nearer it was to morning.


    Everyone knew about the mystic who helped the people living near the Docks District, but no one knew exactly where he lived. If you had someone who was sick, and your need was great enough, he would show up and heal them if it was within his power. The elite of the city referred to the mystic as ¡°A shepherd amongst a flock of sheep that should have been put down for sickness a long time ago.¡± He had heard more than one of the City Watch say they would like to know who the mystic was, so they could buy the man a drink for saving their sorry behinds. Some in the Mages¡¯ Guild or amongst the clergy called him a rogue. But the most interesting speculation he had heard¡ªwhat had given him the most hope¡ªwas that the mystic was a half-elf.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    As the seconds began ticking loudly through his head, his mind once again turned to the matter at hand. How do you find someone powerful who seems not to want to be found? Of course, this question has been asked a thousand times in every generation by every sentient race since the beginning of time. It was all unfolding like a fireside tale, one of those stories in which the orphan is raised by the cranky, old wise man and becomes the hero of the land. He knew some of those stories were based on events that had actually happened, so it was not unheard of. Yet Lagelion also knew how cruel and dangerous a place the world could be, so the only thing he hoped for was his son¡¯s mere survival.


    Again, his mind turned to the fact that he wouldn¡¯t be there to tell his son these kinds of stories, to watch the wonder in his eyes as he discovered champions like Alexander Dalton and Tyrdra the Red. His son¡¯s fate rested in the hands of a mystic he had never met, and who very well might not exist. It would not be the first time the downtrodden had invented a bright, shining hero of the people just to raise their spirits; someone to give them the hope that, if things became desperate, a hand might come out of the darkness to set them back on the right path.


    Sunrays were starting to break through the horizon, and he could feel his faith begin to drain.


    Ok, since this is unfolding like a folk legend or a traveler¡¯s tale, I should think like a storyteller. In these stories, the wise man usually knows more about the traveler who comes to him for help than the traveler himself even knows. So, the mystic would know that I am seeking him. If that is the case, he¡¯s probably looking through some magic device or hiding in a dark corner, waiting for the most dramatic moment to show himself.


    He turned right at the next corner and ran through a set of alleys, trying to get away from the people waking up to start their work for the day. ¡°Hello?¡± Yelling like this in the middle of an alley made him feel like a fool, but he had been around enough mages to know the games they could play. ¡°Please, I don¡¯t have much time. If you are watching, mystic, please help my son and me.¡± He knew it was nothing more than a desperate plea from a desperate man. The effort it took to say it aloud felt like it sapped all of the energy he had seemed so full of just moments before, and he fell to his knees in defeat. The silence deepened around him. He felt his skin prickle, as if the universe had been awaiting his plea for uncounted millennia.


    ¡°Your son does not ask for my help, guardsman. It is you and the human female you call wife who seek my aid.¡±


    The voice that spoke held none of the arrogance he was used to hearing from the mages of his own race. Instead, it reminded him of his wife¡¯s¡ªstrong and assured yet compassionate. The power and wisdom of age was obvious to anyone who had lived long enough to recognize such things. He had not expected the mystic to be a woman, but he was not surprised by it, either.


    ¡°Please, I implore you on behalf of myself and my wife. Our son will die if I do not give him to someone who can watch over him as he needs.¡± There was a catch in his throat as he spoke. He knew he was approaching his emotional breaking point.


    ¡°What you say is true, but why is it that you and your wife cannot give this child the love and attention that he deserves? You could both run away, take the boy out of reach of those who would do him harm. Not only this, but you come to me, a person you have never met before, and presume to ask if I will do what you are unwilling or unable to do. What if this is a burden that I have never taken on myself? What would make you think that I would want that responsibility thrust upon me by some stranger?¡± The last came out as a whisper tinged with just a touch of annoyance.


    ¡°We could not run far enough to get away from those who would do him harm. If I felt we could keep him safe, I would take Victor and Analya and run, but even with my prowess and her strength of will, we would never be able to protect him from a concerted effort by those wishing him dead. We just want what is best for our boy. Right now, the best thing for him is to stay alive long enough to be able to defend himself from the ones who would seek to harm him or exploit his gifts. Will you help us? Or shall I leave the boy with one of these vagabonds so that he may be raised a criminal?¡± Anger broke through before he could bite it back, and tears began to fall down cheeks that had not seen the like in over three hundred years.


    ¡°You say you do not want him to be abused for his gifts? This boy has been marked. Not once, but thrice! His future will hold danger no matter what direction it goes from here. He may be beyond all mortal protection. Yet fear not, noble warrior. I agree with you that the safest place for him now is with me. Think not, however, that I take on this responsibility simply because you have asked and that I require no recompense. This event has been in development for longer than you or I have been alive. The gods are taking the first steps towards all-encompassing war, and the Year of the Shadow approaches. I will now do my part to fulfill an agreement made when man took their first steps upon this world.¡±


    He looked up as she drew near, feeling like he had seen this beautiful woman somewhere before. But before he could complete that thought, he found himself nearly back to the Castle Ward, the sun having risen fully over the horizon.


    Lagelion could not remember what had happened, but he knew deep down that his son was safe, and the sun shining down on the sea touched on a memory of sea-green eyes that promised hope. His wife needed him now, though. She was still weak from the delivery, and they would have to play the part of the grieving parents. As he took one last look back towards the Docks District, he knew it wouldn¡¯t be a difficult role to play. He said a prayer to whichever gods would listen, asking them to look over his family and protect them from harm.


    The mystic, who now went by the name of Shaylyn Arasm¨¦, stood in the alley that the elven warrior had left through one of her portals moments before. In her arms, she held a baby boy who had just seen his first sunrise. He was the only one to hear her say, ¡°You have the power to do great things one day, Victor. Great and terrible things. Life will be hard, but if you live through all that will come, you will have the power to change the face of this world and many others. I do not envy you.¡±


    Much farther away, on another plane of existence, three figures were watching the night¡¯s events transpire. Two of them stood over a large well, discussing the course of things, while the third listened from the shadows.


    ¡°Shaylyn Arasm¨¦ has him now, dearest sister. It is unfolding just as the dragons foretold.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my brother, but remember that we are not allowed to interfere anymore. Only because of Thom¡¯s actions did we even dare to do what we did. He must use the gifts we have given him to survive into his adult years before we can be of aid to him again, and he of aid to us.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course I know that, Cypheria, but¡­ the dragons did say this would be the age of heroes.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Ragn¨®s, and there wouldn¡¯t be a need for so many heroes if there wasn¡¯t so much evil loose upon the world. War may be your domain, and you may be happy to wage it, but I cannot help but feel sorry for those that will fall. Who is to say that this one boy will be enough to tip the scale in justice¡¯s favor, or even that he won¡¯t tip it the other way?¡±


    ¡°I do not enjoy death, either. That is Thom¡¯s domain, and he can keep it. But war is a useful tool. Not only does it make people stronger, but it keeps populations in check. If not for war, there would be more people than there is food.¡±


    ¡°I know, brother. You do not need to explain it to me again, but that doesn¡¯t mean I have to like it.¡±


    ¡°Of course you don¡¯t. Only a mad person would like war. But it is a necessity for the development of culture and, paradoxically, sometimes the only way to achieve peace. All we can do is sit back and watch the boy as he is pushed in one direction and pulled in another.¡±


    ¡°You are right, of course, and what do we have but time¡­¡±


    The voices trailed off into an uneasy laughter as the sun heralded a new day and, perhaps more importantly to most, a new year.


    The third entity watching the events unfold was not laughing. The shadows disappeared, unnoticed, as he moved his attention away from the two fools laughing as if they had pulled off something special. Thom was pleased with himself for taking the initiative with the lad to ensure that he was equipped for what he wanted him to do. He was, however, not pleased in the least that Cypheria and Ragn¨®s had found out about his plan and taken measures to lessen his hold on the boy. They would learn that no one interferes with the god of death when he is choosing his champion.


    No one.

 Chapter 1: Beautiful Dawn, Baleful Dusk

    Year 3041 AGD


    Month: Year¡¯s End


    Fourth Sixthday


    Continent of Terroval


    City of Safeharbor


    Civilian Sector


    Shaylyn sat at her window in the house she had occupied for the last two decades of her long life. She watched as Victor, the boy she now considered her son, played outside. Once again, she found herself recalling the events that had transpired nearly seven years ago. She knew her duty was to teach Victor everything she could. She also understood that his childhood would be short and that he would have to grow up quickly. Ever since she had been told about the boy, she¡¯d known what her role would be in raising him. What she didn¡¯t know was what would happen to take Victor from her, what event would set him on the path that others had decided for him long ago. Another thing that she could not have known or expected was that she would fall in love with the boy. She loved him as much as she had her own children and grandchildren long ago.


    ¡°Why does this have to happen?¡± she asked the window as she stared through it into the street. ¡°What will happen to him?¡± A shiver ran down her spine as she realized it was the first time she had uttered the question aloud. Instinctively, she knew that time was growing short. She stood from her seat to make Victor lunch, silently wishing she could do more.


    Anyone looking towards the window would see the same thing they always saw: a broken-down home with a boarded window. It fit in well with all of the other buildings around it, but it was an illusion. Shaylyn was a mystic, a rare breed of caster. This meant that she was not only a Shaper¡ªwhat most would refer to as a mage¡ªbut also a devout follower of a god who had granted her the ability to use a small portion of their power. Using that power granted to her by the god of her people, she had cast a glamor over her home twenty years earlier so that no one would see when she made changes to the house.


    Had anyone outside been able to see the beautiful woman at the window, they would have stood transfixed by her image. Her long, silvery hair flowed down around her, framing her face in such a way that a person¡¯s gaze would be directed straight into eyes the color of a calm sea. The half-elven features she had adopted stood out in her face and body. When she moved, she seemed to glide rather than walk. She missed her red hair, but it had turned silver not too long after she had met Victor. She wore the grey proudly, though, as the mantle of a life well lived.


    ¡°Hey, you!¡± Victor was wearing his new clothes that Shaylyn had bought him for the upcoming school year. Having left his hat behind, his golden blonde hair blew in the slight winter sea breeze that flowed through the alley.


    ¡°Whaddaya want?¡± the largest of the street kids asked. They were playing a game that was not uncommon in this part of town. Thievery, it was called. They were currently looking over their newest winnings.


    ¡°That¡¯s not yours. I saw you take it. You should give it back to the person it belongs to.¡± He motioned to the bag the young thief was carrying.


    ¡°You gotta lot of nerve for a kid,¡± the boy shot back even though he couldn¡¯t have been older than twelve, himself. He looked quite annoyed with this new nuisance presenting itself in the form of a six-year-old. His clothing and that of the kids around him were covered in patches and worn down where time had left its mark. Their faces were grim and unwashed, and their hair looked to be about the same color as their bodies: dirty.


    ¡°I just know you¡¯re not supposed to steal from anyone.¡± Growing more confident in his position, he took a few steps towards the group of kids. There were six of them and one of him, but he knew he was in the right; therefore, he assumed that they would not be able to stop him. Besides, they couldn¡¯t be much worse than orcs.


    ¡°That¡¯s easy for you to say. I bet you¡¯ve never had to starve before, have ya?¡± The lad pointed at Victor and looked over at his companions. ¡°Look at them clothes. There ain¡¯t a hole in ¡®em anywhere there¡¯s not supposed to be one. That¡¯s all I need, some rich merchant¡¯s son tellin¡¯ me that stealin¡¯ is wrong!¡± The other boys nodded, glowering at the younger boy.


    ¡°Why would you starve? Doesn¡¯t your father work? Doesn¡¯t the city give food to those who need it?¡± The grey-eyed boy rattled off the questions without a thought. Shaylyn had always told him to voice his questions when he had them, so he asked without hesitation. When he finished voicing them this time, however, he received the business end of an angry twelve-year-old and was sent sprawling to the ground surprisingly hard.


    This would be just one of many lessons that he would learn early in life. From this encounter, he learned something that he would share with others later on: be careful what you say to something larger than you. If you aren¡¯t, be ready to duck.


    ¡°You think you¡¯re special just ¡®cause ya haven¡¯t the need for nuthin¡¯?¡± Moisture was beginning to well up in the boy¡¯s eyes. Then he surprised Victor for a second time by turning his back and walking quickly past his companions, muttering, ¡°Let¡¯s go¡­¡± Victor guessed that he was trying to hide the tears from his friends. ¡°But¡­ that¡¯s all you¡¯re gonna¡­?¡± a kid who looked about eight began to ask before he got a cold look from the older boy and decided to shut up.


    Standing slowly, still a bit confused, Victor got up and spoke softly but loudly enough for the children walking away to hear. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t know. Forgive me¡­¡± if any of them heard him, they didn¡¯t show it. They continued to follow their leader down the street, swiftly disappearing around the corner.


    After dusting himself off and checking to see if any of his new clothes had torn, Victor straightened them and stood silently for a moment. He let the taste envelop his mouth as the gash in his lip saturated it with blood, then slowly made his way back into the house, where he knew he would be able to get some aid for the cut and some help figuring out what had just happened.


    Victor sat stoically in the chair as Shaylyn stood over him with a wet cloth. She had to look away from the gash on his lip and the mark that was starting to turn black and blue on his face.


    Not one tear. He is only six years old, but he¡¯s not shed a single tear, she thought. ¡°Victor. Why did that boy hit you?¡± she asked, trying not to sound too worried. But a slight tremble that she couldn¡¯t stifle was still in her voice. She held the cloth on his lip to soak up the blood on his face, applying a bit of pressure to help the bleeding stop.


    ¡°I deserved it. I was not being courteous of his feelings. I insulted his honor, and I have learned a lesson for it.¡± Victor looked up at her with grey eyes that were somehow older than they had been just minutes earlier. They had always betrayed intelligence beyond his years, but now they were sharper, a little more aware. ¡°I know it was wrong of them to steal, but I didn¡¯t know they had it so bad. Is it wrong to steal if you don¡¯t have anything?¡±


    ¡°Well, Victor, that is a question that many people have asked. Society has laws against stealing, but in a place like this, it is the only way for some people to survive. Those who have the will to do more than just survive, though, will only steal until they can earn enough or are given the chance to leave the confines of their imprisonment.¡±


    Confused, he asked, ¡°So all the people who are stealing are in jail?¡±


    She remembered then that she was talking to a six-year-old boy. Despite the fact that he was just as smart as most adults she had ever known, he still had the innocence and inexperience of a young child. ¡°No, honey.¡± She smiled at him. ¡°It is a manner of speech. It means that they are trapped in the life they are in and either need help or are too afraid to even try to get out of it.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad I have you here to keep me off of the streets. I have learned more than one lesson today.¡± He rubbed the area that was now swollen. ¡°What are they afraid of?¡±


    ¡°What? Who?¡± She looked at him inquisitively.


    ¡°The people who have to steal to survive. Why would they be afraid to get out of that kind of life? Wouldn¡¯t it be better for them if they did?¡±


    ¡°Some people are afraid of succeeding just to fall again, and some feel like they have found the family that they never had. They form these tight bands in which they feel like brothers and sisters.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see. That¡¯s sad.¡± He looked at her with those eyes that could say a thousand words with nothing but a glance. She could clearly see the pain in him; then, a single tear rolled down his cheek.


    In a whisper, she said, ¡°It is good you learned your lesson. Just try not to learn another one too soon.¡± She proceeded to pull Victor into one of the tightest hugs she had ever given him. How could she not? He had been beaten and had come to her without so much as a whimper, but now he shed a tear. Not for his own pain: for theirs. If he continues this way, he will become the kind of man that we need him to be.


    Year 3041 AGD


    Month: Year¡¯s End


    Fourth Eighthday


    Eve of New Beginnings


    Continent of Terroval


    City of Safeharbor


    Civilian Sector


    The last day of Year¡¯s End was upon them, and it was cold. The chill enveloped him in its frigid embrace. This was not the kind of cold that is created by external temperate stimuli, but the terrible cold felt when you somehow knew it was going to be a long, dreadful day. Eventually, he would learn to be wary of such a feeling; however, being too young to know any better, he shrugged it away.


    Something was urging him to get up, compelling him to look around. He took his head out from under the heavy quilt that had been given to him to keep him safe and warm. The bright light of the morning sun hit his eyes like a thousand needles. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he was slowly able to focus on his surroundings. Everything appeared as it usually did except for that imposing sun. He was in his room, and he had awoken facing the window. Looking at the fully blossoming morning sun, it looked to his sleepy mind more like a painting that had been framed to look like a window than an actual window. If it had not been for the brightness piercing his eyes as that sun rose red over the horizon, he would have been sure that it was a work of art. It was a beautifully painful way to start out the day.


    There was the slight aroma of damp firewood burning in the cooking stove, mixed with the more interesting smell of cooking bacon. After a moment of concentration, he could even hear the crackle of the bacon grease in the pan. After slowly climbing out of bed, he walked groggily to the door that separated his room from the main room, where he knew breakfast would soon be waiting. He reached for the doorknob and found that it was still chilly to the touch. The fire from the stove had not been lit long enough to warm the metal. Turning the knob slowly so as not to announce his presence, he began opening the door. He¡¯d gotten it about halfway open when it gave his position away with a loud groan.


    ¡°Good morning, Victor,¡± came Shalyn¡¯s familiarly melodic voice.


    Having been found out, he gave the door a quick, angry glare before cheerily replying, ¡°Good morning, Shaylyn.¡± He opened his betrayer all the way without so much as another creak from it and took a step into the main room.


    Shaylyn turned around gracefully and flashed him that loving smile that she had ready for him every morning. He remembered telling her that if he ever met an angel, he was sure that it would look just like her. Even though she was not his real mother, he knew that she loved him as if she were. She had told him the basics of the story of his birth, as she knew of it, on his sixth birthday last year. He knew there was a lot expected of him even if he didn¡¯t know exactly what those expectations were, but he just wanted to be a kid. He did not yet fully appreciate the burden that had been placed upon his shoulders. He would, eventually. Of course, his idea of being a kid was a lot different than any other child¡¯s concept of it.


    </a>He had started training as a Shaper at the age of three, right after he had learned how to read and write. Shaylyn had also taught him other languages¡ªElven and Draconic¡ªto prepare him for his studies and life. When he had turned five, she¡¯d started teaching him self-defense and the art of the blade. He was still rather clumsy at times, but she had wanted to get the basics ingrained in him. All of that training didn¡¯t leave a lot of room for actual playing around, but she always seemed to find a way to make the lessons fun so that he didn¡¯t seem to notice or care about the difference between training and playtime. Shaylyn often told him that she wished she could raise him like a normal child, but she knew his life would be nothing close to normal and that he would need the skills she was teaching him. He accepted it as fact.


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    ¡°It¡¯s about time you got up. I was wondering if you had died in there. It wouldn¡¯t be good for you to have died on the morning before your birthday.¡±


    The scrawny, nearly-seven-year-old quickly assumed his best manly pose. He stated boldly, ¡°I can¡¯t die. Who would be here to protect you?¡±


    Her smile slipped a little. ¡°And you think that I need protecting?¡±


    He replied without missing a beat, ¡°Of course. You¡¯re a girl!¡±


    Now she was becoming a little exasperated with him. ¡°Oh, and who told you that boys can protect girls better than girls can protect themselves?¡±


    Looking up at her like he had never expected to have to argue the point, he said, ¡°My teacher at school. She said that the role of the man is to protect life and provide for the family.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really? What else did she say, Victor?¡± She let him know that she was a bit agitated by her tone of voice and the look she shot him.


    He didn¡¯t want to continue, but when he realized that he wasn¡¯t going to get breakfast until they had finished the conversation, he went on. ¡°She said that women are weaker than men and that it is our duty to protect them because they¡­¡± He hesitated. ¡°Because they cannot protect themselves. Is that not right?¡± He said this all with the most innocent expression he could muster.


    He could tell she was thinking; her entire posture reflected the fact that she was inwardly debating with herself. He thought that she might get angry, though she rarely even got upset with him.


    Instead, she scooped him up off the ground and kissed him on the forehead. ¡°You sweet, innocent child. What have I taught you over all of these years? Better yet, instead of telling me what your teacher said, why don¡¯t you tell me what your opinion is on this before I start another long lecture.¡±


    He looked at her with eyes that a soon-to-be seven-year-old should not possess and gave a slight smile. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought.¡± That¡¯s all he said, but he looked at her and grinned like he thought he had done something right and should get a present.


    After a few moments, she could bear the silence no longer. ¡°What do you mean, that¡¯s what you thought?¡± He knew that she knew that he was waiting for the right moment to say whatever it was he was going to say, and he knew it annoyed her sometimes how well she had taught him to play a crowd. After a few seconds of silence, he started to explain himself.


    ¡°Well, I told the teacher that it really depended upon the person. I explained about a lot of the women you have told me stories about. The Tyradril Sisters, High Commander Marisa Windsbane, and the evil priestesses of the god of pain. I told her there were a lot more examples, but I¡¯m only six years old, so I can¡¯t be expected to know all of them. Then I told her that, by all accounts, those women I had mentioned could hold their own against or even best the hardiest of men.¡±


    As the smile returned to Shaylyn¡¯s face, she embraced Victor in one of her famous hugs that he secretly loved so much.


    Struggling out of her grasp and regaining his breath, he took the cue to continue. ¡°So, she gave me the look of death. And said that just because there are some women in the world with extraordinary abilities, it doesn¡¯t mean that you can treat a woman like you would a man. I looked at her and said that if a woman charges at me with a sword, I am not going to stop her, have a polite conversation, and casually ask her if she knows how to use it before I defend myself.¡± After a moment of thought, he added, ¡°I still wish they had put me in a higher class.¡±


    ¡°Victor, you are already studying with children three or four years your senior. You cannot expect an institute to advance you further without even testing you. Remember, if you were on the mainland, the children you are studying with would also be considered exceptional. You are in as high of a class as you should be, and I am not going to force you along any faster than I already have. The institute can teach you common things that I would never think to teach you.¡±


    He had surprised her yet again. She had known since before his birth that he was not going to be anywhere near to the average man, assuming the men and women of Terroval could even be considered average in any sense of the word. She also knew that he was destined for great things, depending on the direction that life and fate took him. She had originally planned to wait until he was fourteen to teach him how to Shape the world around him. Who could have guessed that the boy¡¯s talent would first show itself at the age of three? She would have been more surprised if she had not still been getting over the shock of seeing how much control over his movement and speech he¡¯d developed by age two. With his abilities came a wisdom that was unnaturally beyond his years. She knew he had been marked, and that could be part of the reason he was so advanced for his age. This frightened her a little. Though it was surmised that he would influence a great number of events and do many great things, it was uncertain what sort of great things he would do.


    For what is a great thing? She knew that the idea of a great thing varied from society to society. What the people of Terroval called a great deed was often unheard of in the rest of Terrazil, and a deed that someone from Telleros considered great may be considered simply a duty in Terroval. She wished that it were as simple as that. However, the definition of greatness changed not only from society to society, but also from person to person, depending upon each individual¡¯s moral fiber. Over the years, a great many people had joined the ranks of the rest of the creatures exiled to this continent, and it was known that they had created their own cities, their own civilizations. What she was afraid of was what those men would call greatness. What if that was the type of greatness that Victor would one day rise to attain? She knew that those who rise to great heights of power are much more likely to fall, and if Victor was going to be anything, it would be powerful. She also knew that the other side would have their chance with the boy.


    Her main goal was to instill in him the value of life, whether it be human, elven, or other. She had taught him that his own life was paramount, but not to get so wrapped up in saving it that he allowed others to die needlessly. Since he was to foremost consider his own survival, she had also instructed him to kill without hesitation anyone or anything threatening to take his life. One of the hardest lessons to explain had been that he need not feel remorseful for killing something that was trying to kill him. Rather, he should simply regret the necessity of taking a life.


    She was not only amazed by his initial mastery of Shaping but also by his love for combat. When he had turned five, she had gotten him a wooden sword and dagger, which they practiced with whenever they could. He had quickly learned all that she could teach him about melee combat, and he now even outstripped her in close combat because of the things he had taught himself through his reading. Eventually, she knew she would have to find someone better than herself to continue his training. She already knew that he would eventually have a great teacher, maybe several, for these things. He was also shaping up to be a good cook. His knife skills were already superior to those of most of the cooks she had met in her life. She knew he would only improve as he grew into his body.


    She looked at the boy who would become a great man in the eyes of all good people as long as he stayed on the right path. She was¡ªand always would be¡ªin awe of him. Some of the subjects that it had taken her fifty years to even form opinions on had taken him less than seven years to nearly master. She wondered what power Victor would hold if he managed to grow as old as she was, or even as old as Elyas. Such a thought scared her in a way that she didn¡¯t want to admit, and she quickly forced her mind back to the present to find him staring back at her, looking like he had a million questions.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Was I wrong in what I said?¡± Victor asked curiously.


    She kissed him on the head. ¡°No, dear. What you said is just about perfect.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you crying?¡± Sadness darkened his features, compassion lighting his eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m just so proud of you,¡± she stated as she realized that she was, indeed, crying. She hoisted him up in the air so that she could look at him better.


    ¡°Good. Then can I cook breakfast?¡± he said with a smirk and then a bunched-up nose.


    ¡°What do you mean? I was cooking breakfast. Is my food not good enough for you?¡± she said.


    He grinned. ¡°Oh no, you cook great¡­ but I wouldn¡¯t tell that to the bacon just now.¡±


    She turned her head around to see the strips of what used to be bacon now in more of a charcoal form. She set Victor down and went to the stove to remove the pan from the heat. When she turned around, he was standing in a pose that somehow reminded her of her grandfather. Then he said something in a tone that she had not heard since she was with her grandfather. ¡°This just won¡¯t do, Shaylyn¡­ won¡¯t do at all.¡± She couldn¡¯t help but pull him into another embrace.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be seven tonight, Victor. Do you feel any different?¡±


    Once again, he managed to escape her grasp and backed up a bit to get out of hug range. ¡°No, I don¡¯t feel any different than I did yesterday. Maybe a little hungrier. But that¡¯s only because I have no bacon in my belly, and you know how much I love bacon.¡± He sent her a disarming smile that would charm the skin off a snake.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be trouble with the ladies, Victor Deus. Mark my words.¡± She thought it was bad enough when he had mastered Shaping and martial arts so quickly, but his sheer will and personality were what would really make him dangerous in the future. ¡°I got you a present, but you¡¯re going to have to promise me that you won¡¯t use it until you need it.¡±


    At that, his ears perked up and his eyes went wide. ¡°Oh, really? What is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s something that was given to me a long time ago when I was a little older than you, but you are much further along in your training and understanding than I was when I received it.¡± She cleaned out the pan so she could make a new batch of bacon. ¡°It is very special to me. I would hate to think that you would misuse something special to me.¡±


    ¡°I would never do that, Shaylyn. I know better than that. What is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s in the chest over there.¡± She motioned with her head since her hands were full, a smile taking hold of her face.


    With the speed and grace of a small fawn, Victor sprang over furniture and dodged this way and that to get to the chest on the other side of the room. He was not supposed to go into this chest, so this was a real treat. When he got there, he had to put all of his energy into stopping, managing to slow his momentum enough with the help of a chair to come to a halt about half a foot in front of his destination. He looked back at Shaylyn to make sure that he had her permission to open it. When she nodded ever so slightly to him, he just about jumped out of his pants with excitement. He had always wanted to look in the chest, but it was one of a very short list of limitations that she had placed on him; therefore, he had respected her wishes.


    The chest was locked by what he considered to be a rather simple lock that only a Shaper could open. He had been able to open locks like it since he was four and a half. He knew that she knew that he could open it, so he had always figured it was a kind of test to see if he would go into the chest without her permission. Never one to fail a test, Victor had steered clear. But now, finally, he¡¯d get to open it! Victor concentrated on the chest, feeling where the bond had been created. Using his will, he pushed the molecules apart before moving his hands to the lid of the chest.


    Reverently, he opened the top, peering inside. On top of everything else, there was a sheath. In that sheath was a neatly adorned handle¡ªone Victor had seen many times before on his outings with Shaylyn. He reached down and pulled the dagger free. It had a curved blade, and he could feel the Shaping that had gone into its creation. ¡°Thank you soooo much!¡± He re-sheathed the dagger and began to put it on.


    ¡°Everything in the chest is yours, Victor. It would take a mighty will for anyone except you or me to open it.¡± She was pretty sure that he heard her, but he looked so engrossed in attaching the sheath to his belt that she couldn¡¯t be entirely sure. She continued anyway. ¡°The great thing about the chest is that it can seemingly disappear, and wherever you are, you can call it out at will.¡±


    He looked up at her, amazed. ¡°You are the greatest!¡± He gave only a quick glance at the innards of the chest, which was bigger than he was. He didn¡¯t want to spoil any of the surprises in it until he was used to the idea of having a dagger. ¡°Can I go outside?¡±


    She smiled, knowing that she only needed to cook enough bacon for herself. She wouldn¡¯t see him until later in the afternoon or evening. ¡°Sure, honey. Just stay out of trouble.¡±


    He ran over and gave her waist a hug. ¡°I will. I love you. See you later.¡± He turned and ran towards the door.


    ¡°Bye. Have fun¡­ and stay safe.¡± She watched him run out, waving back at her. She then used her will to force the chest back into stasis and thought about her long life.


    Victor had been out playing all morning and most of the afternoon. He was just about halfway through the Docks District when he got the feeling that he really should be returning home. Sighing aloud, he started on his way back. Most of the day had been spent watching day-to-day life go by in the Docks District. It was a busy place. He loved watching the ships and the tide come in and out. There were not as many boats now because it was winter; it was too cold to sit and watch the ocean for very long anyway. The rest of his time had been spent in alleyways, testing the sharpness of his new blade. He would slash at broken barrels, broken shipping crates, and whatever else he could find that someone had thrown out.


    Wandering back towards the Civilian Sector at a steady pace, he could smell wood burning. This was not the familiar smell of firewood, though, because there was also the odor of burning cloth and other things mixed with it. He had smelled this before, a few years earlier when he had witnessed a house burning down. Victor looked around to see where the smoke was coming from; he wanted to see the fire before he went home. It was coming from the same direction in which he was heading, so he quickened his pace.


    It took about three blocks for him to realize that the smoke was coming from his home.


    Oh, no¡­ Shaylyn! It was the only thought going through his mind as he broke into a sprint. When he made it to the door, flames were billowing out from the attic, but that didn¡¯t stop him from running in. Neither did the people who tried to grab him before he darted into the building; none of them was fast enough to stop him. Inside, almost everything in sight was bathed in flames, but it also looked as if there had been a fight. Chairs had been knocked over, the stove was lying in a few different pieces, and there was paper everywhere. A lot of residual energy hung in the air, and he could sense that something was terribly, terribly wrong. He heard a noise coming from his room and ran towards it. Grabbing the handle, which was surprisingly still cool, he swung the door open.


    He had just enough time to see the man standing in his room before the figure disappeared in a blinding flash. Victor felt like he would never in his life forget the man¡¯s features or the clothes he wore. He had a hawkish face and an impish grin. His head was bald, and his robes were the color of fresh blood.


    After the flash, Victor was starting to head deeper into the room to make sure Shaylyn was not lying wounded somewhere when he noticed that the smoke was making it hard for him to breathe. He felt so stupid. It was a simple matter for a Shaper to change the smoke going into his lungs into clean air, but as his world began to go black, he realized he had waited too long. The last thing he felt before blackness enveloped him completely were two strong arms wrapping around his body.


    Victor awoke with a jolt.


    ¡°You alright, kid?¡± a large man with smoke blonde hair asked. His face was covered in soot, and his shirt was black and gold.


    ¡°What happened? Where¡¯s Shaylyn?¡± His eyes darted this way and that, looking through the crowd for his teacher, his mother.


    ¡°Sorry, kid, you were the only one in there. I checked as fast as I could, but you were the only one I saw,¡± his rescuer stated with sad eyes.


    ¡°No! Shaylyn!¡± Victor stood and took his bearings. He was only about forty feet away from where his house used to be, from where a burned-out husk now stood in its place. Amazingly, it was the only home that had burned down. No scorch marks were visible on any of the other buildings as far as he could tell. Something in his mind began to sound out an alarm as it sank in that the other buildings were only inches away from the inferno, yet they remained unscathed. Without conscious thought, Victor listened to the voice inside his head that told him to run.


    ¡°Kid, where ya¡¯ goin¡¯?!¡± The man started after Victor but soon realized that he was no match for the child¡¯s size and speed in such densely packed streets. ¡°Kid¡­ stop!¡±


    Victor ran through the streets and alleys. He ran until he couldn¡¯t run anymore, and then he ran some more. He didn¡¯t know where his feet were taking him; he just knew he had to run. He ran straight into the back of a familiar twelve-year-old boy.


    The boy turned around to see who had dared slam into him and saw an annoyingly familiar face. ¡°You! Whaddaya want now? You wanna make fun of me some more?¡± he cooed before noticing that the child in front of him was crying. ¡°What happened to you?¡± he said.


    It had not been that long since the older boy had lost his own parents, so he listened to the younger one¡¯s story with knowing nods. The evening sun was just reaching the peaks of the far hilltops. Dusk had come, and it was going to be a long night.

 Chapter 2: Getting a Little Dirty

    Year 3041 AGD


    Month: Year¡¯s End


    Fourth Eighthday


    Eve of New Beginnings


    Continent of Terroval


    Docks District


    ¡°So, that¡¯s what all the hubbub is about, eh?¡± The older boy looked down at the crying boy in front of him and tried his best to put on a welcoming face. ¡°Them¡¯s the strokes of life, though. Lost my pa to the army and my mum to a bad cold. Been on my own for near enough to four months now. Guess we poor, uncivilized folk ain¡¯t the only ones who get a bucket of waste water dumped on our lives.¡±


    Victor had told his story using as few words as possible, so he could be understood through his sobbing. He kept trying to pull himself together, but it just didn¡¯t seem to be working. The first thing he had tried was the breathing technique Shaylyn had taught him, but when he started the process, he would remember all of the lessons she had taught him over his few years of life and the tears would come back with a vengeance. Everything he knew, he knew because of her, and now she was gone, taken by the man in the blood red robes. Where have I seen those robes before? Trying to think of anything but his loss was nearly impossible, and this made him so frustrated that he felt like he¡¯d never stop crying.


    ¡°¡­ and that¡¯s when I met Ol¡¯ Man Walkins. He¡¯s been teachin¡¯ me and a few of the other boys how to survive on the cold, hard streets. It¡¯s kind of him to take us in; he says so all the time. He says that the world belongs to rich men, and as long as it does, they won¡¯t miss the things we take. Why, just yesterday, he had us¡­¡±


    Wow, he talks a lot. Victor was trying to listen, he really was. For some reason, though, his mind wouldn¡¯t let him concentrate on anything. The only time he had ever felt like this before was when he had accidentally burned himself with a fireball that went off too close. It took him a moment to register what the big boy had been talking about. ¡°You mean that you are thieves?¡±


    ¡°No, no, we ain¡¯t thieves. I asked the same question myself once, then Ol¡¯ Walkins, he set me straight. He said that rich men are decent enough folk most of the time and that if they knew of our¡­ of the¡­ damn, what¡¯s the word he used? Anyway, if they knew of the bad way we was in¡­¡±


    ¡°Plight?¡± Victor asked quietly.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the word. Dang, you sure are smart for a little kid. See, if they knew of our plight, they¡¯d be givin¡¯ us stuff anyway. So, since they¡¯d give it to us anyway, there¡¯s no need to bother ¡®em about it. We just slip in at night and take what¡¯s comin¡¯ to us anyway, or we slip a wallet from a pocket here or there and lighten a gentleman¡¯s load for ¡®em.¡±


    ¡°So, what you¡¯re saying is that you take someone¡¯s property without asking them, and you¡¯re not thieves?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. See, I knew you was a smart one. Ol¡¯ Man Walkins is gonna like you. You¡¯re small and smart, and he says them¡¯s the best qualities for what we do. I¡¯ll bet he puts ya at the head of the boys. Under me, of course. It¡¯s a really nice place. We got¡­¡±


    A thief! I can¡¯t be a thief. What would Shaylyn say? He brooded on that thought for a moment before one of the lessons she had given him came to mind.


    ¡°Now, remember, Victor, just because you can spin a blade or staff doesn¡¯t mean that you should. There¡¯s intimidation, and then there¡¯s showing off. Intimidation will get you out of a fight. Showing off will get you dead.¡±


    Victor was glad to finally be getting lessons with a dagger. Shaylyn had started teaching him how to fight last year. Sure, she called it playing, but about six months ago, he had realized what she was really doing. It was just the way that she taught. Learn by doing. That¡¯s what she called it. No matter if it was reading, enacting a Shaping, or wrestling; she always had him dive right in, and she¡¯d be there to give him pointers on what he was doing wrong. Ever since he could remember, he had been taught this way.


    ¡°If you can learn how to use a weapon effectively, you can learn how to impress others with it. But not before you learn to use it well. Are you listening to me, Victor?¡±


    He nodded and tried to look more attentive.


    She leaned in close with the dagger she was carrying and pointed the tip of it at his nose. ¡°Repeat everything I just told you, then.¡±


    He did, even going back a few minutes into her instructions on how to hold a blade correctly. ¡°Not too tight, but not too loose. Too tight and every strike will jar you. Too loose and the weapon will come out of your hand and it¡¯s useless. Just because you can use flashy moves with a weapon doesn¡¯t mean you should. If you try to show off during a fight, it could get you killed. Once you know how to use a weapon well, then you can try to use it to intimidate or impress, but only to try to stop a fight before it starts.¡±


    ¡°Very good, Victor, I know you think I¡¯m just pestering you with little details, but it¡¯s the little details that will keep you alive. Of course, someday, when you are about fifteen or so, you¡¯ll have to learn some of this all over again. Your body will start to feel different, and you¡¯ll have to relearn what it¡¯s capable of. It¡¯ll be awkward for a while, but as long as you keep your mind sharp and your body fit, it shouldn¡¯t be too bad,¡± she said quietly, a hint of sadness in her voice.


    ¡°You sound as if you¡¯re not gonna be there when that happens.¡± Victor had noticed her telling him what to expect when he got older for a little while now, but this was the first time he had addressed it verbally.


    ¡°First of all, it is going to, not ¡®gonna¡¯. You don¡¯t need to sound like a street urchin. Second of all¡­ I¡¯m not always going to be here. There will come a day when I¡¯m gone. You¡¯ll have to rely on all that I have taught you when that day comes.¡± She leaned in and kissed him on the forehead before giving him that look that he dreaded¡ªthe look that said she was trying to remember every hair on his head perfectly. ¡°When that day does come, Victor, I want you to do everything you can to survive. No matter what, you must survive.¡±


    I¡¯ll survive, Shaylyn. No matter what. A new set of tears started rolling down his cheeks, and he realized that the boy was still talking.


    ¡°¡­ Roland, he¡¯s a good kid, but he likes to look up the ladies¡¯ dresses. Besides that, though, he¡¯s pretty trustworthy and loyal as a dog.¡±


    He paused for a second to catch his breath, and Victor jumped at the opportunity to get a word in. ¡°I¡¯m Victor,¡± he said, putting his hand out in front of him to offer a handshake.


    ¡°Oh, yeah, where are my manners. Shawnrik Larston at your service, Victor, but everyone just calls me Shawny, or Big Shawn. I kinda prefer Big Shawn, myself. I¡¯ll answer to either, but please don¡¯t call me Shawnrik. It makes me sound like a wuss.¡±


    The pleading in the large boy¡¯s voice nearly made Victor laugh at the ridiculous situation. If not for his heartache, he might have. ¡°How about if I call you Shawn? Or Larston?¡±


    ¡°Sounds good to me. Don¡¯t mind people callin¡¯ me by my last name. Kinda makes me feel important, like Ol¡¯ Walkins.¡± He puffed his chest out to make himself look even bigger.


    Victor was finally able to get his emotions somewhat under control, at least for the moment. He wiped his eyes on his sleeves and then wiped off the extra moisture that had accumulated on the rest of his face. That was when that the guard showed up.


    ¡°Hey, you two, what are you doing out this late?¡± a young man wearing the purple, black, and gold of the City Watch asked.


    Of course, being a fine youth of above average intellect, Victor answered as any upstanding young man would.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± both of the boys intoned at the same time.


    ¡°Ah, nothin¡¯, eh? Now, I asked myself, what would two boys be doing around the Docks District on this fine evening? Of course, my first thought was nothing, but then something nagged at me.¡± He pointed at Shawnrik. ¡°Don¡¯t I know you?¡±


    ¡°Well, of course ya know me, Watchman Tanner. You¡¯ve mistakenly brought me in on theft charges two times now¡­ wait! That¡¯s three times, countin¡¯ yesterday.¡± Shawnrik grinned.


    Victor looked over at his new companion and mouthed, ¡°three times?¡±


    Shawnrik shrugged. ¡°Whut? It was his mistake. An¡¯ Watchman Olsons has brought me in twice for pickpocketin¡¯, but I don¡¯t know where they¡¯d get a notion like that.¡±


    ¡°I, for one, saw you palm something with my own two eyes. If it wasn¡¯t for the fact that no one will press charges on you, you¡¯d be shipped outta¡¯ here already. Mark my words, I know you¡¯re one of those kids Ol¡¯ Man Walkins has working for him, and only the lord general could guess who he¡¯s really working for.¡± Watchman Tanner¡¯s gaze shifted over to Victor. ¡°You, I haven¡¯t seen before, though. You new?¡±


    ¡°No, s¡ª¡± Victor started to say.


    ¡°He¡¯s my cousin, sir; his father is visitin¡¯ from down south. A bright one, this one is¡ªnot into livin¡¯ on the streets out here, no sir. His name¡¯s Victor, and he can read an¡¯ write better than most of them richy types in the North Ward.¡± Shawnrik placed his hand around Victor¡¯s shoulder, smiling as big as he could at the officer. ¡°Father¡¯s gonna put him in the Academy or maybe even put him to trainin¡¯ with the Mages¡¯ Guild.¡±


    ¡°Is that the way of it, boy?¡± Watchman Tanner asked


    ¡°Well, sir¡­¡± Victor started, not wanting to lie.


    ¡°Of course it¡¯s true. Are you callin¡¯ me a liar?¡± Shawnrik must have correctly interpreted the look on Victor¡¯s face because he elbowed him. ¡°Ain¡¯t it true? Your name¡¯s Victor, and you can read and write and all that.¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah, I can¡­¡±


    Watchman Tanner watched the display unfold in front of him and rolled his eyes. ¡°Well, you just be careful of this one and that Ol¡¯ Man Walkins, you hear me, Victor? You do have the look of a sharp lad about you, and I wouldn¡¯t want to see you getting into trouble like your friend here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Victor stated meekly.


    ¡°Off you two go, then. The Docks District isn¡¯t any place for kids to be hanging about after dusk. It¡¯s almost New Beginnings; people get crazy on a night like tonight. Be safe and stay out of trouble.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Watchman Tanner. Let¡¯s go, Victor,¡± Shawnrik said as he turned, pulling Victor in his wake.


    The boys walked in silence after leaving the watchman behind. Well, Victor was silent, and Shawnrik was the antithesis of silent. But Victor had been mulling over a thought in his head for the whole walk and finally just had to get it out. ¡°You have been caught stealing from people five times? You must not be a very good thief,¡± he chided his new-found companion. ¡°Maybe I should find someone better to teach me how to survive out here.¡± He said it jokingly, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he kept the idea open as a possibility.


    ¡°Ha¡­ ha¡­! Don¡¯t worry, Ol¡¯ Man Walkins and me will teach ya everything you need to know to keep yourself alive on these streets. Remember, when ya meet him, don¡¯t be rude, and don¡¯t tell him we ran into the City Watch or he¡¯ll birch my hide. And if the fact does come up for some reason, we don¡¯t need to tell him I lied to the man about you being able to read and write and such.¡±


    ¡°But I can read and write,¡± Victor said, hopping over a steaming pile that had been left by the horse trotting ahead of them.


    ¡°Well, we don¡¯t need to mention that, either. I don¡¯t think Ol¡¯ Man Walkins ever learned how. That¡¯s the last thing ya need¡ªhim thinkin¡¯ that you think that you¡¯re smarter than everyone.¡± Shawnrik straightened Victor¡¯s clothes a bit. ¡°Okay, this is it.¡± He pointed up a set of rickety looking stairs that led to the second floor of one of the drinking establishments in the Docks District.


    Victor had seen the sign naming the place ¡°The Serpent¡¯s Dagger¡± on the front of the building. Tucked back behind the main streets, the street they were on was probably considered an alley by most. Well, if I want to learn the darker side of city life, this is the place to do it. That thought jarred him to a halt, and he wished he had more time to consider the implications of it, but Shawn was already pulling him up the steps to the door.


    He could hear the muffled sound of voices from the other side, and when Shawnrik opened the door, Victor was assailed with the odors he would soon learn to identify as cheap brandy and cigar smoke. There were two men talking at a table. One was a large fellow who looked like he could have been a farmer in a past life, but the scars on his neck and face made Victor think that he was probably a bouncer or a thug. The other man was much smaller than his counterpart, the remaining hair on the back of his head more grey than black. The two took note of the boys¡¯ entrance but continued their conversation as if they weren¡¯t even in the room. Shawnrik pulled Victor to the nearest set of bunk beds, gesturing for him to be silent.


    ¡°They called this last year the Year of the Shadows,¡± the smaller one was saying. ¡°If only they knew how well they named it. They say this one is the Year of the Rat. Ha! I say it sounds like another good year to be a man of enterprise. Anyway, Terrik, Lionel will probably be needin¡¯ your services about now. You¡¯d better go back down there.¡±


    ¡°I go.¡± The big man nodded his head and grinned at the two boys before he opened the door leading outside.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°So, Shawny, what do we have here? You bring us back somethin¡¯ to eat?¡± Ol¡¯ Man Walkins poked Victor in his ribs and frowned. ¡°Doesn¡¯t have much meat on him. Guess we¡¯ll have to make a stew.¡±


    ¡°This here¡¯s Victor, and he¡¯s been orphaned just this very night. His house was burnt to the ground, and his aunt was taken with it. He¡¯s a bright lad. Wiry enough for¡ª¡± Walkins held up his hand and Shawnrik stopped talking. Victor embedded the motion into his memory so that he might try it later.


    ¡°That true, boy?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. A mage in a red robe burned it down.¡± Victor didn¡¯t miss the look of recognition that passed through the old man¡¯s eyes. ¡°I sure would like to know who did it,¡± he added.


    </a> ¡°The Blood Mages.¡± The old man threw it out, seemingly already preoccupied with other thoughts.


    Shawnrik balked. ¡°The Blood Mages? As in The Blood Mages? As in the Blood Mages of Siniquity?¡± He looked at Victor. ¡°Oh boy, does your family have some enemies.¡±


    Victor looked between the two of them, trying to remember where he had heard of the blood mages of Siniquity. Shawnrik was mumbling to himself about fiery death and torment, and the old man seemed to be thinking deeply, himself, when Victor finally dredged up the memory from two years ago.


    On the rooftop of their little home, Victor and Shaylyn sat staring up at the stars in the sky. They had just returned from one of the many excursions that Shaylyn had started taking him on recently.


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t know his breath was going to be that bad,¡± Victor whined.


    ¡°That¡¯s one of the reasons that I told you not to let them charge you. You can never tell what they¡¯ve just finished eating. The smell can be putrid. You need to get used to these things so you don¡¯t pass out when no one is there to help you.¡± Shaylyn smiled down at her ward. ¡°So, Victor, it¡¯s your birthday tonight. The only gift I have for you this year is knowledge. What would you like to know?¡±


    Victor blurted out without even thinking about it, ¡°How old are you?¡±


    ¡°Too old. Try something else.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Where were you born?¡±


    ¡°I was born on this continent in more peaceful times long ago. The city I was born in was called Draco¡¯laire.¡± Shaylyn sat watching the boy, wondering what he would ask next.


    ¡°Wow, Draco¡¯laire. That sounds neat. Can we go there sometime? What¡¯s it like?¡±


    ¡°Draco¡¯laire is no longer there. From its bones, the center of Siniquity was built. Siniquity is ruled by the Council of Nine and the Blood Mages. It is a land that possesses potent energies that have been around for as long as anyone can remember. Those energies have been twisted by the Council and by the mages, who use them for their own depraved purposes. It is no longer my home.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Shaylyn. Do you remember what it was like?¡±


    She smiled down at him as she remembered her long ago home. ¡°There were towering spires. Beautiful works of art everywhere. A good portion of the city was plated in gold, which sparkled in the sunlight. The city itself was carved from the great mountain Lairemont. Most of the towers are still there, but a lot of the gold has been stripped away by the mages. Too many men came with the ¡°evil¡± creatures of the world when they were exiled to Terroval, and they banded together to create their own corrupt form of government.¡±


    ¡°Who are the blood mages? And the Council of Nine?¡±


    ¡°The Blood Mages are men who have become so twisted by their own need for power that they make deals with creatures of great power¡ªand great evil¡ªto borrow some of their power and allow the mages to tap into forces which should not be tapped into. They do not follow most moral laws and will do whatever they need to in order to retain their power. Slavery, murder¡­ you name it, and the blood mages have probably done it. Their path to power is relatively quick compared to the path the mages of the Protectorate take, but it comes at the cost of their souls and countless other lives in the process.


    "Of course, blood mage is a general term to describe their order as a whole, but there are many different suborders. The most prominent field of study seems to be Necromancy. The prospect of power over life and death seems to draw the most sinister and twisted of these individuals.¡±


    Shaylyn thought for a moment, unsure that he was ready for this information yet. ¡°As for the Council, their members change regularly. It is not an easy thing to hold onto power amongst so many who crave it. These men are not to be trifled with, Victor. Never take them lightly.¡±


    Remembering where he had heard of the blood mages, Victor thought the knowledge should comfort him somehow, but it didn¡¯t. For a while, the three people in the room sat staring at nothing, each lost in his own thoughts.


    Finally, Ol¡¯ Man Walkins addressed Victor. ¡°So, you want me to teach you how to survive, eh?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Well then, Victor Deus, today is your lucky day. I¡¯ve decided to teach you just what you want to know. And probably a bit more.¡±


    Victor smiled. He loved learning new things and knew that this man would be able to teach him the basics of living on the streets. However, a thought intruded on his moment of relief. Funny, I don¡¯t remember telling him my last name.


    Year 3042 AGD


    Month: New Year


    New Beginnings


    Continent of Terroval


    Caverns beneath the city of Safeharbor


    He moved through the dark caverns underneath the city of Safeharbor, lurking through the dark tunnels like a cat hunting a mouse. Perhaps a better example would be a mouse hunting a cat, Nim thought. This was not the first time he had decided that something down here was in need of killing. The tunnels he now moved through were some of the same corridors that the inhabitants of what was then called South Harbor had used in their three years of isolation. In the millennia since, new passages had opened up, and new residents had settled into these caves.


    Sure, the upper levels were safe, and the wagon trail from the Docks District into the different sections of town was heavily guarded. Still, the area of the caves that had been converted into a sewer and the tunnels below it were where many creatures flourished. Just about every type of creature you could find lurking in a cave somewhere on Terroval could be found in the corridors of these massive caverns. Patrols were sent through periodically to clean out the unwelcome guests. Alas, it seemed to just make some of them stronger; those that survived bred like rabbits. They bred with their own species or any other¡ªone of the downsides of so many of the creatures on the continent possessing draconic bloodlines. But the real problem with having a cavern full of assorted nasties below the city was that sometimes, a few of them came up to play.


    Nim had been on many of these excursions in his time in the Protectorate, and he knew that most of the creatures on the continent had made the discovery that they were all surprisingly interbreed-able. It was bad enough finding a bugbear or an ogre on one of these outings, let alone a monstrosity like the one they were hunting tonight. Creatures like this one always made him itch in uncomfortable places.


    Always one to dress to impress, Nim felt dirty in his drab hunting attire. The simple black cloak was thoroughly depressing. It wasn¡¯t just the clothes, though. Anyone would feel unclean sneaking around down here amidst all the grime and waste. He would need to bathe for half a night to feel clean again. His discipline and training would not allow his unease to affect his job this night, however; you couldn¡¯t let little things like a fetid stench and a cloak without the least bit of embroidery distract you when hunting a creature this dangerous. No, if you wished to stay alive in this multitude of rat-infested corridors, you had to keep your weapons drawn and your mind on the business at hand.


    Nonetheless, avoiding touching the walls while trying to stay hidden in the shadows was becoming quite the game. It didn¡¯t hurt that the game also distracted him from dwelling on just what kind of creature left a path that was so easily followed. The tracks were easily distinguishable amongst the muck¡ªnot that one would need to be skilled, anyway, to follow this beast with the trail of crimson it was leaving in its wake. The creature would learn tonight that it had chosen the wrong place to settle down.


    Nim had made a name for himself many years earlier by hunting down people who¡¯d thought they could use innocents for their own pleasure or entertainment and making them see the error of their ways. It was difficult for those who didn¡¯t know him well to understand the reasons behind some of the things he had done in his career. Precious few had been with him long enough to see things as he did, and that handful of friends and converts was the flesh upon which he had built his dynasty. Well¡­ that and a well-placed wish. There were few things that Nim trusted. His friends, himself, and his weapons: those three things had yet to fail to live up to the expectations he put upon them. In rare occurrences, they had even surprised him by surpassing those expectations, which was why he was not alone in his pursuit this night.


    Whereas Nim was like a slight breeze, Ashur was a gale. Ashur was a little shorter than the average human male, and his gear hid corded muscles as strong as any blacksmith¡¯s. Pale skin made it apparent that he was not getting enough sun lately. His brown hair was trimmed short so as not to be a bother, and when he wasn¡¯t taking his ease, he could nearly attain a noble stature. The man was actually quite good at stalking when he wasn¡¯t mumbling.


    ¡°Stupid sewers. Don¡¯t know why we¡¯ve got to take care of things like this. City¡¯s got guards, ya know!¡± Ashur murmured while looking back at his companion. He nearly stumbled on what Nim hoped was mud and turned his focus back to the path ahead, obviously not wanting to fall face first into whatever it was his boot had found.


    Stepping around the spot Ashur had slipped on, Nim moved closer to his friend so he could speak quietly. ¡°Yes, my friend, but as you know, there are only a few of the watch who could handle a creature as challenging as I believe this one will be. Not to mention, those who could handle it have much more important things to worry about at the moment. Besides, I needed to get out of the mansion. We have been cooped up too long, you and I.¡±


    ¡°I know that. You don¡¯t think I know that?¡± Ashur nearly bellowed the second half of his question.


    ¡°Will you keep your voice down, you big ox? I¡¯m pretty sure that he already knows we¡¯re trailing him, and he doesn¡¯t seem to be too worried about it. I¡¯d rather not have him knowing exactly where we are.¡± Then again, we could always use you as bait. Nim grinned at the thought of anything mistaking Ashur as easy prey.


    Ashur¡¯s focus was on the path ahead, so he failed to notice the grin on his companion¡¯s face. ¡°Hell, at least if it knew we were back here, it might stop so we don¡¯t have quite so far to walk to get home. Besides, I¡¯m tired and hungry. And you have that meeting with the merchants¡¯ guild shortly after sunrise. Let¡¯s get this done as quickly as possible. It¡¯s already gonna take us till night¡¯s heart to find a way outta here.¡±


    ¡°Well, we have been gone awhile. I¡ª¡± Nim hushed as he sensed movement up ahead.


    Ashur eased his axe out from behind him and checked the longsword at his side when his companion fell silent. He turned to make eye contact with Nim, and Nim recognized the gleam in those brown eyes. It was the one that said he was either getting ready for a fight or looking at a beautiful woman¡ªboth potentially dangerous situations. ¡°Party time, I¡¯d say.¡±


    ¡°Your wish is my command.¡± Nim slipped into the embrace of the shadows.


    He had long ago learned how to use the shadows that already existed to create a greater darkness for himself to hide in. It was a much easier process down here where there was little light to begin with. As long as he didn¡¯t run into any grey elves or any of the other creatures that possessed a natural sense for reading body heat, he would be completely concealed. Slipping to the opposite side of the corridor, he moved silently along the wall. He was the first one to see the creature.


    It stood about 10 feet tall, the top of its head only a foot below the ceiling. Black wings protruded from its back in a grisly manner. The wings looked as if they had only recently developed and had forced themselves out of the beast¡¯s back. Nim assumed that it was an ogre¡ªone with a little too much black dragon blood running through its veins.


    The malformed wings weren¡¯t the only thing that brought him to this conclusion. Its skin was somewhere between the thick grey hide of an ogre and the dark scales of a black dragon. (Nim always liked calling the condition skin-scales, for it not only summed up what he was talking about but also rolled off the tongue rather teasingly.) By far, though, the worst feature of the beast was its grotesque, bulbous face. Like the rest of the thing, its face couldn¡¯t seem to decide if it was an ogre or a dragon. It was definitely ogre in nature, yet its face protruded outward into a reptilian snout. Sharp, pointed teeth lined its maw in uneven patterns. It also had small, horn-like projections curving forward from each side of its head. The horns had developed behind its ears and had pressed its earlobes forward as they grew, potentially limiting the mutant¡¯s hearing.


    Located directly across from the creature yet safely concealed by the shadows and his cloak, Nim watched Ashur and the creature slink up to the same corner. They arrived at the corner at about the same time and both stuck their heads around it to have a look around. It took all of Nim¡¯s self-control not to burst out laughing at the scene. He watched Ashur¡¯s face as his friend recognized that he was looking at the monster¡¯s belly and slowly brought his gaze upward to see the creature¡¯s face. Meanwhile, Big, Ugly, and apparently None Too Bright was still looking down the hall. Nim slipped off to the left to get behind the hybrid before it realized that Death¡¯s messengers had come a-calling.


    Ashur had not been expecting a giant, scaly belly six inches away from his face, and if it hadn¡¯t been for his experience and training, he surely would have cried out. Instead, he slid his gaze upward to see the outline of a disfigured, humanoid face peering around the corner above him. The four-foot difference in height was working to his advantage at the moment. If not for his close proximity to the creature, he probably wouldn¡¯t have been able to see it; unlike Nim, Ashur couldn¡¯t see more than a couple of feet around him in this low light.


    Silently congratulating himself for already having his axe at the ready, Ashur squatted low to the ground in order to gain as much momentum on his swing as possible in such tight conditions. After what seemed like an eternity but couldn¡¯t have been more than ten heartbeats, the creature finally looked down. In a blur of motion, Ashur sent the steel of his blade swinging for the creature¡¯s neck. The crossbreed pulled back in surprise, hitting its head on the ceiling. The axe ended up hitting the shoulder of the massive beast, deflecting off of its collarbone. Still, it had taken a mighty blow, and the upper portion of its left shoulder was hanging from its back by its skin-scales.


    Backing up to get some distance from his foe, the ogre-dragon wasn¡¯t expecting an attack from behind. Nim stabbed hard with one of his daggers, cutting deeply and nearly severing one of the beast¡¯s wings. It howled in excruciating pain. Great, this is where it gets fun. Nothing better than a half-crazed ogre-dragon hybrid that¡¯s backed into a corner, fighting for its life. Nim¡¯s mind set into motion, thinking of all the things the creature could do. You gonna run or fight, my large mouse? His question was answered a second later when the beast went into a frenzy of motion, swinging its arms in every direction, striking out blindly at those who had hurt it.


    Staying out of the ogre-dragon¡¯s reach and yet within sight was difficult, but Ashur dared not move any closer while the thing¡¯s arms were flailing. Great. Nim drags me into yet another situation where I can¡¯t see a damn thing in front of my face. If it weren¡¯t for the creature being so damn big and flailing around so damn much, I probably wouldn¡¯t even be able to see it. Yet again, I¡¯m the only one who can¡¯t see a damn thing. Recalling that Nim was currently behind the creature, he amended his thoughts, deciding that he wasn¡¯t the only one at a disadvantage. Sure, you can see me, but who was it that poked ya in your backside? With that, he broke into a big guffaw and raced toward the flailing beast into what he considered his favorite kind of fight: the kind you might not walk away from.


    ¡°Eat the blade of my axe!¡± Ashur swung wide, hoping to get under the creature¡¯s right arm and score a hit in its midsection. Right before the blow connected, he learned that his earlier shot to the creature¡¯s shoulder had not reduced the strength in its other side by much. Its left arm slammed into his side, sending him flying across the corridor into the opposite wall.


    In the time it had taken Ashur to run wildly into battle and get flung a dozen feet, Nim had sunk a dagger in the ogre-dragon and was getting ready to throw another. He let fly, hitting the creature¡¯s other wing as he watched his friend¡¯s body get knocked, quite literally, into the wall on the other side of the corridor. ¡°Stay there!¡± he shouted.


    Ashur let out a groan, finding himself partially embedded in a rock wall. Okay, I¡¯ll stay right here. He thought it sounded like a good idea. Still, he started moving his arms and legs to make sure they worked and accidentally unplugged himself from the wall in the process, plopping unceremoniously onto the floor. ¡°Ugh.¡±


    ¡°Who behind me that thinks they so sneaky? I smell you, serpent. Now I pluck out your fangs, me thinks, yes?¡± The beast spoke for the first time as it turned around to face what he considered the greater threat. He was still satiated from his earlier meal but now thirsted for something else¡ªblood. He expected to see one of the various lizard-men species or one of the vicious dragon-men, known to the rest of the continent as the Dracair. Instead, he found a creature that looked an awful lot like any other human. That was as much as his small brain was able to process before the hairs on his body stood up and the world was filled with light and pain.


    Ashur was getting up onto his knees when the lightning arced out of Nim¡¯s hands and struck the beast full in the chest. He closed his eyes at the sudden brightness of the bolt but not quickly enough. Spots were everywhere on the insides of his eyelids, and when he opened them again, the spots were all he could see.


    Nim walked up to the downed creature and pulled back his hood, revealing his face to it.


    The beast looked up into the face of Death¡¯s messenger and realization dawned across its grotesque features. It knew why it had smelled serpentine. ¡°Why you kill Granik, you dragon-man? Dracair, yes? We hate humans.¡±


    Nim looked into the face of the beast and nodded solemnly. ¡°Yes, I am the bastard son of a Dracairei. But I am nothing like you.¡± With that, he slit the creature¡¯s throat, granting him a quick death, a courtesy that was not afforded to the beast¡¯s victims earlier that night.

 Chapter 3: The Life of a Thief

    Year 3043 AGD


    The Day of New Beginnings


    Continent of Terroval


    City of Safeharbor


    Docks District


    The Serpent¡¯s Dagger, Second Floor


    Walkins had told Victor he would teach him everything he needed to know to survive on the streets, and he had kept that promise. The old man taught him how to use his dagger for more than just fighting, and he could now open many locks with ease without relying on his skills as a Shaper. The last year had been tough, but Victor had persevered. He had found that many of the things Shaylyn had taught him¡ªthe most important of which was the ability to pay attention and think things through¡ªcould be utilized in his new profession. He had also come to realize just how many things Shaylyn had neglected to teach him, things that he knew she¡¯d never wanted him to know. Those old and new lessons were allowing him to become quite the thief, however, and he knew he would become even better as time went by.


    ¡°Superbly done, Victor. I can sell this for quite a bit of money.¡± Walkins held up a necklace, encrusted with pearls and diamonds in a web pattern, that any lady of wealth would love to wear. The old man had quit trying to trick Victor into stealing things from ¡°bad men¡± or ¡°rich fools who don¡¯t care about you.¡± He still used that method with most of the other boys, but Victor knew better. Victor understood that what he was doing was wrong, but he did what he had to do to survive.


    Victor had stopped thinking about what Shaylyn would have said six months ago when he¡¯d realized that he could steal from the rich, who wouldn¡¯t miss most of the things he stole, and use the money he earned to help a widowed mother who was barely scraping by. He had also begun buying coats for the other street kids who didn¡¯t have any winter clothes. Sure, Walkins lost a bit of money, percentage wise, when dealing with him, but Victor always found a way to pull off a big score. The rest of the boys¡ªexcept for Shawnrik, who was becoming a better thief with Victor around¡ªwere still picking pockets or begging.


    Some nights, Victor would use his ability with Shaping to alter his appearance so that he looked like a gnome or a halfling. That way, he could go into the taverns and other night houses to gain information that would otherwise be beyond the reach of an eight-year-old, no matter how advanced. It was the most complicated bit of Shaping he knew, and it required a lot of concentration to keep the disguise in place. Besides, it always made his skin itch afterward. He had tried drinking once, just a sip, and had woken up the next morning in an alley, sleeping in his oversized cloak without his money. His skin had gone back to its regular texture sometime during the night, and he was lucky not to have been found out. He decided that drinking was not a good idea and made a vow not to try it again for a long while.


    He had also learned about the Syndicate of the Raven, the organization that oversaw the darker elements of the city. People said that Safeharbor was the most secure city on the face of Terrazil, but the Syndicate was the chink in that armor. A large percentage of the Syndicate¡¯s business took place in the back alleys of the Docks District, but they had also managed to take over some of the old strongholds in the caverns far beneath the city. You could find just about anything in the halls of the Syndicate if you were willing to pay the price. There were quite a few business deals that occurred regularly that Victor found quite appalling. Most of them consisted of the sales of creatures or people.


    ¡°Victor?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Were you listenin¡¯?¡± Walkins¡¯s voice took on the dangerous edge he used whenever he thought one of the lads wasn¡¯t paying attention. It was a tone that promised swift punishment if such a thing were found out to be true, and Ol¡¯ Man Walkins never threatened anyone if he wasn¡¯t willing to back it up.


    ¡°Of course. You said that there is a new job, taking some trinket from one of the houses in the Noble District.¡±


    ¡°Close enough. That little trinket is a special pair of manacles that has been stolen from one of our employers.¡± He looked Victor in the eyes, making sure that he had his full attention. ¡°They¡¯ll pay quite handsomely for them to be returned. They¡¯re made of a silver-mithril alloy, and they¡¯re made for slavers, so don¡¯t accidentally slip one on.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah, that¡¯s what I want to do. Slip on a manacle that¡¯s been Shaped for the slave trade. You can never tell what those things will do.¡± Victor rolled his eyes.


    ¡°Well, sarcasm aside, there are a few people who would probably try it, which brings me to my next point. You¡¯re takin¡¯ Shawn with you. I know you like to go solo most of the time on your jobs, but you may need an extra set of eyes out there. He¡¯s just gonna go with you to the manor and keep a watch outside to make sure you don¡¯t need help. The inside is all yours.¡±


    ¡°Great. When do we start?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll leave this evening and should arrive sometime around sunset. Make sure there aren¡¯t any extra guards, and then enter when evening settles in. The manacles should be on the second floor in the center of the display room in the south wing of the house. Shapers have been at work in the house, so be on your toes. I put two release scrolls in your backpack in case you need ¡®em. Those stupid mages at the Protectorate are probably dissipating their own work. Ha! So, what you should do now is get some rest. I¡¯ll wake you when it¡¯s time.¡± Walkins stepped over to one of his drawers and pulled out a grey cloak he then threw to Victor. ¡°Happy birthday, kid.¡±


    ¡°Wow, nice cloak. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°The mages call it a stalker¡¯s cloak. It¡¯ll help you hide better when you have it fully drawn around you. ¡®Course, it won¡¯t help with those noisy feet of yours, but nobody¡¯s perfect, not even you, boy.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°And kid?¡± Walkins said, his voice taking on a softer tone.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Be careful.¡±


    Victor fell asleep easily once he reached his bunk. He was used to being awake at night, so this was his usual time for rest. When he awoke a little before dusk, he found Shawnrik sitting at the table studying a book. Victor had begun teaching him to read a few months prior, and the older boy was doing rather well. Victor¡¯s sliding out of bed alerted Shawn to his presence.


    ¡°Hey, Vic, c¡¯mere for a sec.¡±


    Victor approached the table groggily and plopped down in a chair next to him.


    ¡°What¡¯s this word ¡®ere mean?¡±


    ¡°Fertilize¡­ well, it¡¯s when you take the dung of a beast, mix it with some good soil, and plant something in it. Let me see that book.¡± Victor grabbed it and read a few paragraphs. ¡°Shawn, this is a book on farming. Are you planning on quitting and becoming a farmer? ¡®Cause if you are, warn me now, and I¡¯ll know to avoid your house. You might put me to an honest day¡¯s work.¡±


    ¡°Vic, this ain¡¯t no book on farmin¡¯. See ¡®ere¡±¡ªhe closed the book and showed Victor the cover¡ª ¡°it says ag¡­ri¡­culture. Agriculture. Now, what does a farmer need to know about culture?¡±


    Victor could barely suppress a full belly laugh and had to release a slight chuckle or he would explode. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a good question, Shawny, and you¡¯ll have to remind me to ask a farmer about that one day. Unfortunately, agriculture is the culturing, or cultivating, of the earth. In other words, farming.¡±


    ¡°Really? You ain¡¯t foolin¡¯ me?¡±


    ¡°No, sir, on my honor as a thief.¡± Victor held up his right hand and did a little flourish that made his dagger appear and disappear in the blink of an eye.


    ¡°Damn, Vic, you sure are smart. I wish I was even half as smart as you.¡± He hung his head, tossing the book onto the pile in the corner of the room.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that, Shawn. I don¡¯t want to ever hear you say that again. It¡¯s not your fault that I got schooling since I was little, and you didn¡¯t. You¡¯re learning all of this stuff from scratch, and it isn¡¯t going to be easy. Shaylyn always said that it¡¯s easier to teach people when they¡¯re really little. Not to mention, you have an eight-year-old as a teacher. I am not exactly academy trained. There are probably a thousand better ways for me to be teaching you, but I don¡¯t know them. You are doing really well. For Cypheria¡¯s sake, you can already read better than most of the people in the Docks District.¡± Victor chuckled. ¡°And you already know more about life than most of the people in the Noble District.¡±


    Shawnrik grinned at that. ¡°Yeah, them nobles don¡¯t know nuthin¡¯ ¡®bout what it¡¯s like livin¡¯ down ¡®ere in these streets.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. Shaylyn always told me that there are three kinds of smarts in the world: street smarts, book smarts, and dumb smarts. Street smarts are what you¡¯ve been teaching me. The smarts of life. Book smarts are what I¡¯m teaching you. It¡¯s the knowledge that will set you above most folks. Dumb smarts are like those people who are either book smart or street smart but still consider themselves superior. She said that some of the dumbest people she ever met were scholars that stayed in their libraries and street thugs who never made any attempt to learn about the world at large.


    ¡°You have street smarts, and you¡¯re working on gaining book smarts. Just doing that shows that you have an intellect far greater than most of the people around here. Now, the thing that both of us need to work on is wisdom. Shaylyn said that wisdom is the application of the knowledge that you have gained, and the best way to gain it is through experience. She said that, to be truly great, one would have to have intelligence, wisdom, and strength; so, we¡¯ll work on all three of them together.¡±


    </a> Shawnrik simply stared at him for a few moments. ¡°Ya know, you¡¯re a little under six years younger than me. I should be the big brother in this situation, sharin¡¯ my vast knowledge, protectin¡¯ ya from the big, bad world. Instead, I¡¯m always lookin¡¯ to you for support. If I ever get to be too much of a burden, you just tell me, and I¡¯ll go.¡±


    Victor leaned over and placed his hand on Shawnrik¡¯s head. ¡°My friend, I have a feeling my life is going to be hectic. Shaylyn always hinted that I was going to do great things. If that is true, I¡¯m going to need a lot of support, which means I am going to need a strong right hand to tell me when I¡¯m doing something foolish or stupid. If I ever ask too much of you, just tell me. You are always talking about growing up to be a knight. I will try my best to make that happen. If you will watch my back, I will watch yours. Brothers until the end.¡±


    Victor held up his hand, and Shawnrik grabbed it. ¡°Brothers ¡®til the end!¡±


    The door slammed open. ¡°What¡¯s all this yellin¡¯ about? I¡¯ll give you an ending if you don¡¯t get dressed and get goin¡¯, if you catch my meaning.¡± Ol¡¯ Man Walkins stood in the doorway, waving his dirk around in the air as if he were cutting something.


    Both boys looked at the blade, and then there was a swirl of motion as they raced to get dressed. They did get the old man¡¯s meaning and wanted none of it. In minutes, they had their gear on¡ªShawnrik was ready first¡ªand were out the door.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think he¡¯d really cut us, do ya?¡± Shawnrik inquired as they walked through the streets of the Civilian Sector on their way to the Noble District.


    ¡°Well, he did it to Roland, and Roland hasn¡¯t been able to hear very well out of his left ear since. I don¡¯t think he¡¯d do it to us, though. We¡¯re his two best boys. He¡¯d have to work all the other kids double just to make what we bring in.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re probly right.¡±


    Victor started laughing.


    ¡°What¡¯re ya laughin¡¯ about?¡± Shawnrik asked, nudging Victor with his elbow.


    ¡°You,¡± Victor stated.


    ¡°Me?¡± Shawnrik said.


    ¡°Yeah, you. Last year, I couldn¡¯t get you to shut up, but ever since I¡¯ve been teaching you to read, I can barely get more than a couple of sentences out of you.¡±


    Not seeing the joke, Shawnrik got a little defensive. ¡°Sorry, Vic. It¡¯s not like I don¡¯t wanna talk. I just don¡¯t got nuthin¡¯ to say anymore.¡±


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong. It¡¯s not a bad thing. In fact, I think it shows that you¡¯re understanding things a lot better now. You don¡¯t feel the need to ramble on about things that don¡¯t really matter. That, my friend, is a bit of wisdom, I believe.¡±


    Shawnrik couldn¡¯t help but give a chuckle of his own. ¡°Even when you¡¯re laughin¡¯ at me, you always seem to make me feel better.¡±


    ¡°Quiet time,¡± Victor held up his hand as they started seeing larger homes in the distance.


    Victor moved into an alley, and they held to the shadows as tightly as their cloaks clung to their bodies. Anyone able to see the two boys was probably up to the same type of business, and the best way to stay alive on the streets was to mind your own. Anyone else would pass them off as a wild dog or a trick of the light and shadows. This was their element: the element of the thief. A good thief learned to wrap shadows around himself like a warm blanket, and Victor possessed training that allowed him to manipulate the shadows to his own gain.


    Halfway to the house, Victor stopped behind a large waste bin and motioned Shawnrik closer. Focusing his will, he strengthened the bonds in their cloaks, making it harder for a weapon or an arrow to penetrate. He didn¡¯t have the willpower yet to make the fabric stay that way for longer than a few hours, but it would stay as strong as most armors until his will was overridden by the nature of the cloth. Without a word, the boys continued on.


    Victor stopped in front of one of the wealthier estates in the Noble District. This district, as the name implied, was home to mostly nobles. However, there were also a few extremely wealthy merchants living here. More than likely, he would be robbing a lord. But, for all Victor knew, it could be worse; he could be about to burgle from a member of the royal family. He didn¡¯t like that line of thought, but he had a job to do, and he was going to do it.


    Shawnrik waited across the street in an alley that faced the window Victor planned on using. Victor liked the Noble District with its beautiful statues and wide, cobbled streets. The only time he could come here without being yelled at by a guard was when he came in the guise of a gnome mage. He really liked pretending to be a gnome. They were just as short as he was, and they got to be rude to people without making them angry. Much.


    The first barrier he came across was an easy one to surmount: the large fence surrounding the perimeter of the house. Climbing it would have been simple, but since he fit through the gaps in the bars, he didn¡¯t need to.


    He wished that he could come down here during the day without making himself look like someone else, but the residents didn¡¯t like ¡°dirty little urchins¡± fouling the beauty of their district. That part had always made him mad. These people could live in their idealized neighborhoods, but as soon as they saw someone who reminded them of the real world, they would get angry for all the wrong reasons.


    Victor realized that he was letting his mind wander and scolded himself for his stupidity. I bet an experienced thief never lets his mind wander when he¡¯s doing something dangerous. He tiptoed through the landscaped gardens¡ªwhich had to have been recently visited by a mage or a priest, because the plants were in full bloom with several months left of winter¡ªpast towering statues that he assumed had once been heroes or lords in their own right. He felt like they were looking down on him in disgust for what he was doing, but Victor just let those emotions slide off the mental barrier he had erected. Whether those thoughts came from himself or were the house¡¯s first line of defense did not matter. They would not stop him.


    Victor moved against the manor¡¯s wall, the rustle of grass the only indication anyone would have that he was there. Quickly looking around, he made sure that he hadn¡¯t been seen by any of the guards and that none were heading his way on patrol before he put his mind towards climbing the obstacle.Probing it with his mind, he found that it had no assistance from a Shaper in its construction. He would have to be careful here, for the bricks were only held together by the will of the mold used to make them and the fire used to strengthen them. Rocks were much like water in that they would assume whatever shape was needed at the time. Stones like granite or diamonds were harder to manipulate, but even they would take to a new shape as if it were natural, once changed.


    Many believed that the strength of a wall came only from the materials used to create it, and it was true that the materials were largely to credit for its durability. However, the real bond that held a wall together was the will of its builder. If the builder cared for his work and wanted the wall to be a barrier, it would be much stronger than if the builder was just working for money and daydreaming about what he would be doing later that day. In this way, everyone had a little power as a Shaper, but what separated a true Shaper from a builder was the ability to read and understand those bonds.


    The bricks themselves were well made, but they lacked passion or pride. The mortar, while nothing impressive, was made by a man who loved his job, so even though it was not the best mixture, it still held strong. The men who put the wall together daydreamed about doing other things, however, so the whole was not as strong as its parts. If he wanted to break down the wall, this would be a good thing, but he just needed to climb it.


    If he used his will to make handholds, it would more than likely retain that shape, and it would be obvious that there had been an intruder. They would be able to tell how he had gotten in, potentially how big he was, and¡ªshould a Shaper examine it¡ªhow strong of a will he had and what he¡¯d been feeling at the time. Once Victor was experienced enough, he would be able to mask some of the information that could be gained from such an examination, but he was many years away from that kind of mastery. Instead, he would have to exert as little of his will on the wall as possible. It would require a lot more of his attention but would also leave little trace. To do so, he would have to climb the wall as well as he could naturally, while providing as little adhesion to the wall with his hands and boots as was necessary.


    This had been one of his favorite things Shaylyn had taught him, and also one of the hardest. It was difficult because he had to exert just enough control over the molecules to allow them to bond for a short period and then release with as little change as possible. Small bits of brick dust fell from his hands and feet, telling him his skill was not as good as it could be. It only took about fifteen seconds from the moment he reached the wall for him to reach the second-floor window, but those fifteen seconds might as well have been an hour for the effort he expended. Ever so slowly, he lifted his head over the base of the window, looking for any movement within.


    There had been a time when he didn¡¯t look inside before opening a window. That had all changed one night when he had crept into the bedroom of a rich merchant. Victor still wasn¡¯t sure if he had made a noise or if it was just the draft that had awoken the man. Either way, the man¡¯s first instinct was to look directly towards the window Victor had been climbing through. He had barely made it off of the merchant¡¯s property intact that night.


    The room he now looked into was not anyone¡¯s bedroom, thankfully, but a display room¡ªthe kind where a collector might keep something like a special pair of manacles. Even better, the room was currently empty. Victor checked the window, which was, of course, locked. Luckily, it wasn¡¯t a complex lock, just a latch, and he felt nothing odd about the window, so he didn¡¯t believe it to have been manipulated by a mage. He didn¡¯t think he had enough experience to hold himself up and manipulate the latch with his will at the same time, so he would do it the old-fashioned way. Concentrating on the connection between his boots and the wall, he grabbed hold of the windowsill with his left hand, leaving his right hand free to do its work. Fumbling around in the pack at his waist, he pulled out several thin pieces of metal. Carefully, he began to manipulate the latch, trying to do it quickly but without any noise.


    It took almost as long to open the window as it had for him to climb the wall, and for each of those thirty seconds, he had been vulnerable to being found out. He promised himself he would do better in the future. Unfortunately, getting in would prove to be the easy part.


    ¡Þ¡Þ¡Þ


    Shawnrik watched as Victor scaled the manor wall. It didn¡¯t matter how many times he had seen him do it or had done it himself with Victor¡¯s aid; it still looked like magic. Victor had tried to tell him that it wasn¡¯t, but Shawnrik, like so many others, couldn¡¯t seem to get his mind around the concept. To his limited understanding, it was magic, and Shawnrik had always wished he had that kind of power.


    It¡¯s amazing, the things you can do, Victor. It¡¯s so hard to keep up with ya. You¡¯re quicker than me, smarter than me, and you can do things I don¡¯t understand. That don¡¯t mean I¡¯m gonna give up, though. You said ya would need someone by your side. That Shaylyn lady you¡¯re always talkin¡¯ about was right, Vic. You¡¯re bound for great things. Even a city rat like me can see it. I plan on bein¡¯ there to make sure you¡¯re alive to do ¡®em. Wrapped in his own thoughts, he almost didn¡¯t see his friend slip into the now open window.


    Realizing that his job was done unless an alarm was raised, Shawnrik leaned back into the shadows of the alley he occupied and let his thoughts consume him. Great, this is where it gets boring. ¡°Are you always gonna leave me outside, Victor?¡± he whispered to himself. ¡°What¡¯ll it take for me to be your equal?¡± He wondered if Victor had really meant it when he¡¯d told him he was smart or if he had just said it to make him happy. Sure, he¡¯d taught Victor how to move through the shadows so he¡¯d blend in and what people make good marks and how to gauge how much is in a purse by just looking at it. He¡¯d taught the younger boy all about how to survive out here, but it would never compare to all the things Victor had taught him.


    Learnin¡¯ how to read. I wish my ma could see that. She¡¯d be so proud of me. Sure, most of the people in the Protectorate were literate, but not down on the streets that he usually frequented, and especially not the sons of barbarians. That one thing would open so many more doors for him when he was older. Of course, unless he missed his guess, just being around Victor would probably show him more of the world than he could ever imagine. Shawnrik attempted to find a more comfortable position in which to wait. Once that was achieved, he began to survey the area, looking for guards or any other people who might cause trouble for them.


    He noticed something moving through the yard of the estate and soon recognized the shape of a guard dog. ¡°¡®Ello doggy. Out for an evenin¡¯ stroll? Do ya smell a human? Well, half a human, anyway.¡± He chuckled at his own joke. He sometimes wondered if it was the elven half of Victor that made him so special. But no, that couldn¡¯t be it; he¡¯d met a few half-elves whom he wouldn¡¯t lend a hand to if they were drowning.


    Remembering that he was sitting alone in a dark alley, Shawnrik decided that he should probably keep his jokes to himself. What¡¯s so important about these manacles, anyway? He wondered why a rich noble would steal them¡ªor have them stolen, at least. Ol¡¯ Man Walkins wouldn¡¯t tell him anything about them. Shawnrik figured they must be magical, or the real owner would have just made a new pair. Since they were magical manacles, he¡¯d bet they were for holding slaves. ¡°Special slaves,¡± he muttered.


    He had seen the man who had hired Walkins to do the job, and he knew the man was Syndicate. If the Syndicate wanted the manacles, it meant they were dangerous to someone. Who would the Syndicate try to hold prisoner, though? Whoever or whatever it was, they would be powerful¡ªlike a Protectorate mage or an ogre mage. That line of thinking made him cringe. He didn¡¯t like anyone who would need to hold a Protectorate mage prisoner, and he really didn¡¯t like anyone brave enough to try to hold an ogre mage.


    Maybe they¡¯re just for orcs, just to make ¡®em weaker and more manageable. If they¡¯re for orcs or ogres, they¡¯ll probly be pretty big and heavy. I hope Vic can get ¡®em by him¡ª


    ¡°Uh, cough.¡±


    Shawnrik¡¯s head whipped around towards the depths of the alley. He didn¡¯t have to look very hard to see who had spoken. There was a man farther down the alley, propped up against the opposite wall in much the same manner as Shawnrik himself had been leaning only moments before. He said the first thing that came to mind. ¡°Didya just say ¡®cough¡¯?¡±


    The man behind him let out a quiet yet warm sounding chuckle. ¡°I like that. Most people would say something like, ¡®How did you get there?¡¯ or ¡®Who are you?¡¯¡± He smiled before continuing in a hushed tone that reminded Shawnrik where they were as he moved across the alley. ¡°But yes, I did say cough. I have a sore throat, and I didn¡¯t feel like clearing it to get your attention, so I said cough.¡±


    Shawnrik immediately got the feeling that, if not for the fact that the man had snuck up on him in an alley, he would have probably liked the guy. ¡°Okay, then. Who are you, and how did ya get there?¡±


    ¡°Ah, now we are getting to the heart of the matter. Well, when I¡¯m on guard duty, I try not to let my thoughts wander too much. It allows room for mistakes. It makes it easy for people to wander up on you without you hearing them. Also, when I think too much, it makes my head hurt, and it¡¯s not good to have a headache when you¡¯re on watch either.¡±


    Shawnrik stared up at the man, not quite sure what to make of him. He was of an average height, if not a little shorter, for a man of the city. He could see the man¡¯s arms and figured that the rest of him was made up of the same corded muscle. His hair was dark, either brown or black, and his eyes looked to match the hair. Shawnrik had a hunch that he wasn¡¯t from the Docks District. His clothes were of a fine quality, but the tailoring was such that he could be easily lost in a crowd. His whole demeanor yelled guard or soldier.


    ¡°Nothing to say, eh? You¡¯re a bit young to be on watch. What are you, twelve?¡± The man grinned.


    ¡°I¡¯m almost fourteen, thank you,¡± Shawnrik said without thinking, cringing inwardly when he realized he had taken the man¡¯s bait.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re almost fourteen, eh? That makes you almost a man, I suppose. Well, young man, what¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°I asked you first.¡± Shawnrik was used to getting hit for being mouthy, but, instead of getting angry, the stranger let out another quiet, deep chuckle.


    ¡°I suppose you did at that. Most people call me Ashur.¡± He held out his hand in a friendly manner, clearly expecting to shake hands.


    Shawnrik considered how strange this all was, but the man¡¯s laid-back attitude and apparently friendly demeanor were putting him at ease. He grasped Ashur¡¯s hand and replied, ¡°Name¡¯s Shawnrik, but my friends call me Shawn.¡±


    ¡°Well, Shawn¡­ now that we know each other, may I ask what exactly you and your friend in the manor over there are doing here?¡±


    This made Shawnrik tense up again, and he almost bolted into the street, but Ashur¡¯s grip held him firmly in place. He pulled the boy deeper into the alley. ¡°That¡¯s how ya get caught, kid. You don¡¯t just run out into a lit street. Damn, you are a rookie.¡± Ashur let go of Shawnrik¡¯s hand and held a finger up to his mouth before pointing towards the head of the alley.


    Shawnrik was thinking about yelling at the man for manhandling him when he heard the clank, clank, clank, of metal boots. Two men became visible in the nearby street. They were wearing the purple, black, and gold of the City Watch and seemed to be absorbed in their own conversation, neither of them looking anywhere but at the street ahead, marching down it in blissful ignorance. Some watch they are. Shawnrik thought, nearly chuckling at the irony. After watching the street for a few more moments to make sure they were still heading in the other direction, he turned back to Ashur just as the man spoke.


    ¡°You should have seen the look on your face, kid. I¡¯m guessing you want to get found here by the watch about as much as Nim and I do.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Nim?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good question, and if you ever figure it out, why don¡¯t you tell me?¡± Ashur¡¯s manner told him this was a long running joke, but the way his eyes went slightly out of focus for a second after he said it told the boy he wasn¡¯t entirely kidding. ¡°Just a joke, kid. He¡¯s my associate¡ªor I¡¯m his associate, I guess. He¡¯s kind of like that little gnome you¡¯re working for.¡± He paused to see Shawnrik¡¯s reaction.


    Shawnrik tensed and tried not to let anything show on his face, but he knew he had probably given too much away already. ¡°What gnome?¡±


    Ashur¡¯s smirk returned. ¡°The one I saw scale the manor wall a little while back.¡± He pointed at the exact window that Victor had gone through a few minutes earlier.


    Good. They think Victor is a gnome. Wait, they¡­ ¡°Where¡¯s this Nim guy?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s around,¡± Ashur said, leaning back against the wall before adding, ¡°So¡­ wanna compare notes on employers?¡±

 Chapter 4: Easy as Pie

    Year 3043 AGD


    Month: New Year


    Early morning of First Day


    Continent of Terroval


    City of Safeharbor


    Noble District


    Nim flowed through the open window on the second floor with the ease of a breeze blowing through a meadow. There was a dog outside, but it hadn¡¯t seen or heard him as he¡¯d entered. It had smelled the two trespassers, of course, but its attention had been distracted by a large chunk of meat that it found while searching the yard. Nim followed the small cloaked intruder through the room. He watched as the figure, whom he assumed to be a gnome or halfling, stared with open admiration at the jewels that were on display. Nim knew this was not the room he wanted, so he slipped out ahead of the would-be thief.


    Once, he would have gawked openly at the jewels and other niceties, but he had seen their like many times before now. Not only had he seen them, but he now owned quite a few like them. He had acquired quite a few pieces of property throughout the lands of Terrazil. Most of them had come fully furnished; some even came with a full staff.


    While walking through the halls, he did see a few items that he wouldn¡¯t mind having, but Nim had never considered himself a thief¡ªjust generally lucky. From time to time, he would take something from an individual he thought untrustworthy or remove something dangerous from someone who couldn¡¯t protect it properly. There were just certain things in the world that some people should never get ahold of. Tonight¡¯s business was one instance of such a dangerous item being owned by the wrong man.


    He knew that the manacles he was looking for would be in one of the rooms on the back side of the wing. He could hear the other intruder¡¯s footsteps rather well and knew that it was only a matter of time before someone else did, too. Hearing the door to the room that he had just exited open, he moved against the wall to hide in the shadows of the corridor. The little figure moved into the hallway and checked the door directly across from the first room. Nim watched the shadow quietly open it and slip inside. Still moving down the hall when he heard the door open again, Nim quickly ducked into a corner. It appeared that the little one was done gawking and was now getting down to business.


    The next door that the little thief tried was locked, but that didn¡¯t seem to dissuade him. Nim didn¡¯t see any telling movements, but he must have picked the lock because a moment later the door swung open silently on its hinges. When the thief opened the door and slipped in, Nim followed closely behind this time. The small figure looked around, apparently sensing the movement behind him, but Nim was already moving through the room. The cloaked intruder shrugged as if telling himself that it was just his imagination.


    The room was lined with ancient armors and weapons, some of which Nim had neither seen nor heard of before. He knew the owner of the mansion was quite the collector, but he hadn¡¯t understood just how much of an obsession it was for the man until now. He saw armors that were made out of bone, wood, rock, and various other elements that armor was rarely made from. There were swords, daggers, axes, and hundreds of other blades of all shapes and sizes. Some of the items gleamed as if they had never been used, but he could tell by their design and craftsmanship that many of them were too old to have maintained that luster even with the best of maintenance. From this, he garnered that some, if not all, of these had to have been manipulated by master Shapers or clerics. He also knew that anyone with a collection like this would likely be able to afford the best security for it.


    The little thief stood transfixed by the displays; however, Nim noticed that he wasn¡¯t only looking. Just as the little man was about to touch one of the weapons, Nim grabbed his arm. The thief let loose an unmanly squeal, and Nim got down on one knee so that he could be at almost eye level with the obviously inexperienced burglar. The noise cut off immediately, and he could feel the thief¡¯s eyes peering at him intently from the darkness within the hood.


    It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that Nim would get such a reaction from someone seeing his eyes for the first time. In fact, his hair and skin, were anyone to look closely enough, would also elicit similar results. He was used to people fearing him for things beyond his control, but that didn¡¯t mean that it ever got any easier. But all of the various reactions Nim¡¯s features had elicited throughout his life could not have prepared him for what was to come next.


    ¡°Those¡­ are¡­ the neatest eyes I have ever seen!¡± It came out in a moderately high-pitched squeal containing an enthusiasm easily associated with a gnome or a halfling. What he heard, though, was a voice that was unlikely to have come from either.


    ¡°You¡¯re just a kid?!¡± Nim¡¯s incredulity as he threw back the thief¡¯s hood was apparent in his voice. The boy that appeared from those depths possessed grey eyes and hair of a golden color that Nim had rarely seen outside the company of elves. He noticed the child¡¯s ears were slightly pointed and guessed that he must have an elven relative somewhere in his family tree.


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t change the subject. Are those real? Did a wizard give them to you? Can I get a pair? If they are real, are you a Dracairei? What did Shaylyn call those¡­ hey, doesn¡¯t that mean you¡­¡±


    ¡°First of all,¡± Nim said before lowering his voice, ¡°we weren¡¯t exactly invited in here, so lower your voice. Secondly, slow down, kid. You ask a lot of questions.¡±


    The two of them just stood there staring at each other. Anyone looking in may have mistaken them for one of the displays at that moment. It didn¡¯t last as long as Nim might have liked before the boy started asking more questions.


    ¡°Are you going to eat me?¡± the lad whispered, more inquisitive than afraid.


    ¡°No.¡± Nim shook his head ruefully. ¡°You¡¯re much too skinny. Anyway, we don¡¯t have time for this right now. Don¡¯t touch anything. I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t triggered an alarm already. My only guess is that the items themselves are so well guarded that they don¡¯t feel the need to place any in the room, so our best bet is not to touch anything.¡± He noticed that the boy still had the same look on his face as when he¡¯d begun asking questions. ¡°Save your questions for later.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± the kid replied, obviously not thrilled with the idea of waiting to have his questions answered but disciplined enough to let it drop for now.


    With a bit of mutual reluctance and many questions still hanging in the air between them, they tore their gazes away from each other. It was obvious by the way each of them would stop every few feet and look at the other that neither would leave the other alone until he had his answers. Nim¡¯s usually graceful movements were slightly stilted, as if his body were as confused as his mind, and Victor knew that the appearance of the man in the room with him would either bode ill or make for an interesting night.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the two of them to make their way through the collection. Soon, Victor¡¯s attention was usurped by one of the display cases against the far wall. He had found his prize. Nim noticed the boy stop and stepped over to see what he had found. Inside the case were the manacles that he had set out to find this night. He had found his prize. Without a second thought, both of them began their work.


    Nim focused his will into his retinas, changing them slightly so that they could see the energies put out by items that had been influenced by Shaping. As the change occurred, the room suddenly became brighter to his vision. He had never seen so many items of varying degrees of power packed so closely together outside of a battlefield. Power radiated off of just about everything in his line of sight. Two emanations in front of him were much stronger than the rest, one of them blindingly so. That stronger one was radiating outward from the boy, but it didn¡¯t take long before Nim¡¯s eyes began to protest against the head-piercing light. From the short look he had been able to take, he could almost swear that the energy had the feel of four separate¡ªand extremely powerful¡ªShapers about it; however, the three strongest energies felt like they belonged to the child, while the fourth felt like it was trying to contain the other three for some reason.


    Nim almost let out a sigh of relief when the boy knelt down and began to rummage through his pack, as it let him focus on the object that had been in front of him. He knew immediately that his information was accurate. The manacles had been made with a malicious intent. After studying the energy for a moment, he concluded that they had been made to repress the wearer¡¯s will and to block a Shaper from being able to sense the flow of the universe around them. The idea sent a chill down his spine. He was not a strong Shaper by any means, but he knew that losing that connection would be just as bad as suddenly losing one of his other six senses.


    Getting to the manacles could be a problem, for the case containing them gave off an energy that made it clear that it had been Shaped. From the feel of it, there were two effects. If someone who was not supposed to were to touch the case, the first would trigger and manipulate what he assumed was some sort of alarm in another room. Should the case be opened in any way, the second effect would seek out anyone in the room and electrocute them.


    Victor located the scroll case Ol¡¯ Man Walkins had placed in his pack earlier that night. He quickly removed the stopper from the end of the case and slid out the scrolls. He liked scrolls; they were a brilliant use of Shaping, in his own, humble opinion. They were also a complicated piece of work. The idea was that the Shaper would place his will towards the creation of an effect. The hard part was that¡ªat the exact moment the effect was fully realized inside the Shaper¡¯s mind¡ªhe would need to bend his will towards making sure that the universe understood that even though he was willing it to happen, he did not wish it to happen at that exact moment. Once it was clear to the particles that they had been brought together to perform their set purpose but were not yet supposed to create the effect until given permission, the Shaper would coax them into assuming a shape of his choosing until that permission was given. Any object could be made from such a Shaping, but it was usually easier and more manageable to have it take the form of paper or vellum.


    In this way, a Shaper could create an effect to be used at a later date so that they did not exhaust themselves all at once, or so that the effect could be triggered by any Shaper with a basic understanding of that effect. As soon as a sufficiently trained mind triggered it, the item would dissipate and reform into the originally desired effect. Having done their work, the particles then usually resumed their places in the universe, waiting to be called upon again¡ªunless the desired effect required them to take a new shape or was so dire that it ripped them apart and sent the pieces out to be absorbed by whatever grabbed hold of them.


    He now held two such scrolls, created by a mind more disciplined than he could even imagine his being at this point in life. He could feel the particles that formed the paper, waiting patiently to become that which they were brought together to become. In this case, that effect was to attempt to overpower and scatter the effects created by another Shaper. He unrolled one of the scrolls and bent his will to understanding the effect contained within and guiding its release.


    Nim quickly realized what the young thief was doing when he pulled the scroll case out of his pack. He could feel the intent of the scrolls from where he was standing behind the boy. He could see the pent-up energy waiting to be released and could tell that whomever had created the scroll was a more proficient Shaper than the one who had trapped the display case. All it took to dissipate or change the effects created by another Shaper was having a focus and will greater than theirs. There were, of course, social stigmas attached to interfering with another Shaper¡¯s creations outside of battle conditions without their permission, but that didn¡¯t usually stop a Shaper from creating an item that could do just that.


    The longer one worked with the essence of the universe, the better they became at manipulating it to their will. Many more factors were involved, of course¡ªinnate intellect, discipline, and strength of will, to name a few¡ªbut that in itself was a part of the nature of the universe. All of this had been the topic of one of his many discussions with his good friend, Zander¡ªa conversation from which Ashur had excused himself halfway through, complaining of a headache.


    Victor felt a moment of elation as he managed to release the effect from the scroll and the momentary exchange as the energy from it overpowered the opposing energy contained in the case. He hadn¡¯t been able to tell what effects were on the case. If he had touched it or been comfortable enough to get much closer, he may have been able to figure it out, but he figured it wasn¡¯t really important anyway. Shaylyn had told him that he would be better able to feel the effects¡¯ purposes from farther way the more he grew and worked with the power.


    Shortly after he felt confident that there was nothing else on the case for him to worry about, he realized he was not alone in his pursuit. ¡°Hey, these are mine. I saw them first.¡± Victor glared as well as he could manage.


    ¡°Kid, believe me¡­ you want nothing to do with these manacles,¡± Nim said.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because bad men want those manacles, and I plan to stop them from getting them.¡± Nim stood still for a moment, wondering why he felt the need to explain anything to a kid.


    ¡°Will you stop talking to me like I¡¯m a child?¡± Victor said as he put the remaining scroll back into its case and placed it in his pack.


    ¡°You are a child!¡± Nim yelled. He realized that it may have been a bit too loud when the dogs started barking.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°Now look what you did,¡± Victor chided, opening the case and grabbing the manacles. They were heavier than they looked, and he was glad that nothing fried him when he touched the things. The manacles were halfway to his pack when Nim intercepted them, placing them in the pouch at his side. ¡°Hey!¡±


    ¡°Follow me if you want to get out of here with all of your skin¡­ and try to keep up.¡±


    </a> Victor focused on his legs and lower back for a moment, adding strength so that he wouldn¡¯t fall behind. As with any such change to an organic structure, the effects would wear off once the body got tired of the interloping cells. Shaylyn once said that it was possible to change something and keep it that way, but you would have to change its organic blueprint, the one that all living things contain; apparently, it was much harder to do than it sounded. He ran into the hallway and saw Nim¡¯s back as he entered the room Victor had started out in. Victor barely made it into the room before he had to stop quickly or run into the man.


    Nim looked down at him. ¡°We are going to have to jump. Can you do it?¡±


    Victor thought about it for a second before nodding.


    ¡°Okay, kid. I hope you¡¯re right because I would hate to have to carry you through the yard because of a broken leg.¡± Taking the boy at his word, Nim ran to the open window and dived out headfirst.


    By the time Victor got to the window, Nim was already on the ground, running and looking back to make sure he was following. Not thinking himself dexterous enough to perform such an acrobatic leap, he decided to keep it simple. He swung his legs out of the window and dropped. The impact was more than he had expected, but with his legs and back enhanced, he recovered quickly. He was only a couple of seconds behind Nim, and he made that time up by not having to climb the fence like the man had to.


    Shouts from the manor could be heard telling the dogs to shut up, and lights were being lit throughout the building. Victor thought he felt a tug on his boot as he squeezed through the bars, but he didn¡¯t look back to see what had tried to stop him. As they neared the alley where Shawnrik was supposed to be waiting for him, he saw his friend running around a corner two streets down with a man in black.


    Victor and Nim were already several blocks away when they began to hear the horns of the city watch. It meant that a member of the watch was requesting assistance from any other watch members in the area. Victor knew it wouldn¡¯t be long before they began hunting for the two of them, but he thought they were far enough ahead to not get caught. It would take the watchmen a few minutes to find out that something had been stolen and where they had entered and exited. By the time the dogs were chained up and put on the trail, it would be hard for them to distinguish the smells within the city¡¯s alleys.


    It would most likely take at least until morning to get a Shaper to the manor. By then, everything except the part of the wall he¡¯d climbed would have lost all memory of their brief contact. He didn¡¯t believe the wall would be a problem, either; the parts he had come into contact with had blown away as dust. Victor felt sorry for anyone they caught in the alleys tonight but figured most would either be let go quickly or deserve to be caught for one thing or another.


    Even with enhanced legs, it only took half an hour for Victor to fall behind. Noticing this, Nim lightened their pace. Victor still had to run to keep up, but he didn¡¯t have to sprint anymore. Nim took them on a path leading through the Noble District and the Hall of the One God¡ªa large open area that also contained the temples for the Gods of Terrazil¡ªand into the Market District, near the Protectorate Grounds.


    Victor was nearly to the point of exhaustion when the man finally stopped at The Dragon¡¯s Nest. The place was of newer construction than many buildings in Safeharbor and had the distinction of being near the junction where the Market District, Protectorate Grounds, Docks District, and Civilian Sector met. The Dragon¡¯s Nest was too nice to be called a tavern and yet too rowdy and active at all hours of the morning to be called an inn. Most people, when asked to describe it, would look at you for a moment and say, ¡°It¡¯s¡­ well¡­ it¡¯s The Dragon¡¯s Nest.¡± Tired as he was, Victor knew he probably should not go into such a place looking like himself, so he pulled his hood up and paused for a moment, using the last of his reserves to change his form into that of a gnome before following Nim in.


    Nim sauntered up to the bar, obviously comfortable in the place, and looked at the man whom Victor was pretty sure was the owner of it. ¡°Hey, barkeep, get off your butt and get me ale!¡± Nim said in a voice slightly lower than his usual one.


    The barkeep spun around, glass in hand like he was about to throw it at whomever it was who had the audacity to order him around like that in his own place. When he noticed who it was, his posture changed, and a smile lit his face. ¡°Nim, you old scoundrel! Could have used you here a few hours ago. The place was packed.¡±


    ¡°I was here a few hours ago, and so was my friend.¡± Nim gave the man a knowing look. The bartender returned it and then pointed towards Victor inquisitively.


    Victor threw back his hood and hopped up onto one of the stools in one smooth motion. ¡°Vic, at your service. Vic Tor¡¯Deus.¡± His voice had a gravelly quality like that of the gnomes and was much deeper than Victor¡¯s own voice.


    Surprised for a moment, Nim finally gave a small chuckle. ¡°I knew something was odd.¡± The bartender raised an eyebrow, but Nim just waved it away. He held up two fingers and the bartender poured them two ales before they found a seat in a back corner of the room away from the other patrons.


    Nim stared at Victor for a minute and then shrugged and shook his head.


    ¡°What?¡± Victor asked.


    Nim leaned in, making sure his voice didn¡¯t travel to any unwanted ears. ¡°Which you is the real you?¡±


    Victor understood the shrug and the headshake at that point and couldn¡¯t help but laugh. He thought it a grand idea to play with Nim¡¯s mind a bit. ¡°Now, that is an excellent question! Which me is the real me, hmm? Well, I¡¯ll tell you, I¡¯ve been wondering that for a few years, myself. Then again, when I do figure it out, I¡¯m just going to have more questions: what am I doing here? And who are all these other people? Do any of them show their true selves? Aren¡¯t there things about themselves that everyone keeps hidden? Can we ever really even know if someone is his true self?¡± Victor was repeating some of the things Shaylyn had said after he had asked his mysterious guardian about herself for what must have been the hundredth time.


    Through it all, Nim¡¯s wry smile grew. ¡°You definitely sound like a gnome, but something tells me that the other you is the truer you.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, now, truer me¡­ that¡¯s getting down to the heart of it. We all act like different people in different crowds. One person, I might be rude to. Another, I might be as sweet as a kitten to. Some people, I will be strict with, and some, I¡¯ll let get away with more things than I would let anyone else get away with. You see, the only way to be your true self is to be completely alone, so really neither of the forms you¡¯ve seen is my true self.¡±


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s too deep for this early in the morning. How about this. How old are you?¡± Nim quested, his gaze foggy as he processed everything Victor had just said.


    ¡°There we are. A much simpler question with a much simpler answer.¡± Victor leaned in and whispered, ¡°Eight, as of a little after midnight this morning.¡±


    Nim burst out laughing so loudly that the few people in the common room stopped to stare. He waved apologetically at them, and, after a few moments, they went back to their drinks. ¡°Is Vic your real name?¡±


    ¡°Is Nim yours?¡± Victor retorted.


    ¡°Fair enough, Vic Tor¡¯Deus. Now, tell me a little about yourself, and I¡¯ll tell you a little about me.¡±


    ¡Þ¡Þ¡Þ


    Their conversation went on for quite some time, continuing as they left The Dragon¡¯s Nest and meandered through the city streets. Victor realized they were heading to a part of town that he had yet to explore in any guise. Called Cliff¡¯s End, it was the most beautiful part of the city in many ways and was where the top tier of the Protectorate¡¯s social class lived. There were only five villas nestled on the top of the cliff, three of them owned by the royal house. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, welcoming the New Year, and Victor thought that the slow lighting of the sky from the east on such a crisp, winter morning gave the cliff a surreal quality.


    ¡°What are we doing now?¡± he asked for what was probably the fifth time. The changes to his appearance had started dissipating shortly after they had left The Dragon¡¯s Nest, telling Victor that he was even more tired than he thought.


    ¡°I told you. We are going to my house.¡± Nim¡¯s voice only had a hint of exasperation.


    ¡°Yeah, but why are we at Cliff¡¯s End?¡±


    ¡°Because that is where I live.¡±


    ¡°Really? Are you a servant?¡± He tried to make it sound as innocent as possible.


    Nim looked at him like he was questioning whether Victor had a full set of wits. ¡°Am I a servant? He asks if I¡¯m a servant¡­ have you seen the clothes I¡¯m wearing?¡±


    Victor hadn¡¯t, really. It wasn¡¯t something he noticed unless he was somewhere he wasn¡¯t supposed to be and trying to avoid rich people. Nim¡¯s outfit was black at first glance, but it had silver and gold embroidery throughout, and the material it was made of was smooth and shiny. Victor had seen a handkerchief like it once at Ol¡¯ Man Walkins¡¯s, and the old man had said it was called silk. The dagger at Nim¡¯s side had an overly ornate hilt¡ªhe thought it looked like it was made from some sort of bone¡ªand was inlaid with rubies. Even the big man¡¯s belt buckle looked as if it was made of platinum.


    Victor knew that only the extremely wealthy could own an outfit made from that silk stuff, let alone have a platinum belt buckle; however, he decided he was not finished messing with the man yet and whistled softly before saying, ¡°Wow, that is a nice outfit. You must be the head servant.¡±


    Nim had been strutting like a peacock a moment before, and his grin slipped when the words registered. The boy¡¯s face had the most innocent smile that Nim had ever seen on a humanoid being. He knew the lad must practice it regularly in a mirror. If he hadn¡¯t already realized the boy was sharp, he might have actually believed that he thought he was a servant. ¡°Vic, my friend,¡± he said with a laugh, ¡°you are a very dangerous person.¡±


    Still holding onto his guileless expression, Victor smiled. ¡°I know.¡±


    That simple statement combined with that look of total innocence made the hairs at Nim¡¯s nape stand up. After another minute of walking, he pointed down the road towards a two-story villa laid out along the cliff¡¯s edge. ¡°That¡¯s my house, Vic¡ªone of the best I¡¯ve got.¡±


    The house itself was beautiful. Four columns lined the front entrance. Its entryway alone was larger than most of the houses in the Docks District. Every window on the first floor had a box containing different flowers in full bloom attached to its outside. There were fountains on both sides of the walkway up to the house and several large shrubs cut into the shapes of various animals that Victor had only read about. If not for the winter chill, he would have sworn it was springtime as they started down the walkway. Sitting on what Victor would have called a porch on any other house were two figures who seemed to be sleeping. One appeared to be a well-built man in his prime. The other, Victor recognized.


    ¡°Shawnrik!¡± he yelled.


    Shawnrik awoke with a start, looking around like he didn¡¯t know where he was before he saw who had called his name. ¡°Victor! You¡¯re alive! Ashur said you would be.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I did. Now, can everyone quit yelling?¡± the man Shawnrik had referred to as Ashur said before taking the pillow from behind his head and dropping it on his face, mumbling, ¡°Accursed sun!¡±


    Meanwhile, Nim mouthed the name Victor quietly to himself and shrugged.


    ¡°He seems a cheery sort. Of course I¡¯m alive, but I had to keep waiting for this guy all night. I tell you what¡­ if it hadn¡¯t been for me, he would have never gotten out of there.¡± Victor pointed at Nim, which caused the man to start laughing again.


    Ashur¡¯s head shot up, pillow falling to the ground. ¡°Wait a second. Was that a laugh? An actual laugh? Not a maniacal chuckle or even a halfhearted guffaw?¡±


    Victor looked at Ashur curiously. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s been doing that all night.¡±


    Ashur pretended like he was fainting. ¡°Kid, if you can make him laugh, you¡¯re hired.¡± He looked up at Nim. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard you laugh since Erin left. She could always make ya laugh. Remember the time¡ª¡±


    ¡°I think that¡¯s enough reminiscing for right now, Ashur,¡± Nim said, his chipper mood suddenly soured. ¡°Why don¡¯t we all go inside and get some rest. We can talk later this afternoon.¡±


    The two boys looked at each other and then at Nim before asking in unison, ¡°Us? Stay here?¡±


    Nim looked at them, his mood lightening a bit once again. He chuckled. ¡°Yes, you can stay here, but you two really must take a bath before getting into one of my beds, and I have to get you both into better clothing. Ashur, why don¡¯t you tell the tailor to meet us on the back veranda at mid-afternoon?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Ashur said with a mock salute, and then, in total sincerity, he walked up to taller man and put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°And might I say that it is good to hear you laugh again.¡± He ducked as if Nim were about to swing at him and left to find the tailor.


    ¡°The maids should be up. I¡¯ll have them draw you boys a bath. They can even wash you if you¡¯d like.¡± Nim watched both of them go as red as ripe tomatoes. ¡°No? Oh well, I¡¯m sure they¡¯re probably busy anyway. Just remember that I gave you the opportunity.¡± He walked up to the door, pulled out a key, and unlocked it. ¡°Gentlemen, welcome to my home.¡±


    He opened the door, and the boys suddenly found themselves breathless. Victor had seen quite a few mansions in his exploits, but he had never seen an entryway quite like the one at Nim¡¯s villa. A staircase on both sides of the entrance led up to the next level with a balcony that could probably hold fifty people comfortably. The floors were polished, blue marble, and a giant chandelier hung from the glass-domed ceiling. It appeared to be crystal, with rubies and sapphires sparkling throughout. There was a statue of a giant cat, looking regal standing over its fallen prey. In front of the statue, there stood an older gentleman in a black suit. Directly behind him were three women in black and white maid uniforms. The man bowed, and the three women curtsied in unison.


    ¡°Good morning, Master Nim. I see we have guests.¡± He looked at the boys with reproach. Victor thought that it might be the man¡¯s usual look. ¡°So, we are bringing home street urchins now, sir? Isn¡¯t Master Ashur bad enough, sir?¡± He quirked a brow, his well-trimmed mustache¡ªits color now greyer than the brown it once was¡ªtwitching.


    Nim took the man¡¯s attitude in stride, as if they had had this conversation many times before. ¡°Thank you for the greeting, Bartholomew. This is Victor and Shawnrik. They will be staying with us for a while.¡± He pulled the manacles out of his pack and handed them to Bartholomew. ¡°Put these in the safe room.¡±


    ¡°Very well, sir,¡± Bartholomew said, his tone dry. ¡°Lia and Megan, why don¡¯t you go draw these young men a bath.¡±


    The two young women moved towards the boys. They were clearly half-elven twins, both rather striking. As far as the boys could tell at that moment, the girls were identical except for the ribbons in their long, red hair. Their elven features were apparent throughout; each had long limbs, pointed ears, and green eyes. Victor thought they couldn¡¯t be a day over sixteen, if that.


    ¡°Shawnrik, please do close your mouth,¡± Nim said, a grin on his face.


    The one with the blue ribbon in her hair walked up to Victor. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Lia.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Megan,¡± the other said, throwing a quick smile to her sister. Her ribbon matched her eyes.


    The lads followed the two girls sedately, grinning like idiots.


    As the twins led the boys up to their rooms, Nim walked up to the third woman. ¡°Jenn, why don¡¯t you find out who our little friends work for. I¡¯m fairly certain that the little one is named Victor Deus, and the other one is Shawnrik, no last name given. They live in the Docks District. See if you can get the girls to coax it out of them through some lighthearted conversation. I think they will be nervous enough to get some information out of.¡±


    She looked at him, her piercing blue eyes displaying a keen intellect. She had a grip on the long, blonde hair that flowed over her left shoulder. Intelligence was not the only thing shining in those eyes; they also possessed a deep admiration¡ªone that would be apparent to anyone who bothered to look at that moment¡ªfor the man in front of her. ¡°Yes, sir. I¡¯ll tell the girls while they are getting the boys some towels, and I¡¯ll head straight to the Docks afterward. You should have an answer by early evening.¡±


    Left alone in the foyer, Nim looked up at the sculpture he himself had made of a lion standing over a deer. That¡¯s what he thought of himself as: an artist. Whether he was creating something or dabbling in politics, finances, or martial activities, he was an artist.


    He thought about Victor and the potential he saw in him, about how he could mold him for his own uses. Nim had no malicious intent; it was just that he had learned long ago that you had to use people sometimes to get ahead in the world. It wasn¡¯t like the boy wouldn¡¯t benefit in the exchange. He would teach Victor all that he knew about politics and finances, but he would also mold him into his own personal weapon. It was just the way that Nim¡¯s mind worked. Besides, if Victor was who he thought he was, it was his right. She had said he would be one of his teachers.


    Feeling exhausted from the night¡¯s outing, Nim went up to bed. In his dreams that night, a lion stood poised over a deer, ready to deliver the final blow. It was not the first time he¡¯d had such a dream. He was just glad that tonight he was the lion.

 Chapter 5: Not so Rude Awakenings

    Year 3043 AGD


    Month: New Year


    First Day


    Continent of Terroval


    City of Safeharbor


    Cliff¡¯s End


    Nim¡¯s mansion


    ¡°Shaylyn?¡± Victor asked as he awoke in a soft, warm bed, something soft and moist pressing onto his forehead. No, not Shaylyn. She¡¯s been gone for over a year¡­


    ¡°Who¡¯s Shaylyn? Is she pretty?¡±


    The voice was soft and melodic but definitely not mature enough to be his old teacher. Victor¡¯s head shot into the air, suddenly wide awake. It took a moment for the previous night¡¯s adventure to run through his mind and remind him where he had gone to sleep. He was at Nim¡¯s mansion.


    Directly to his left stood a beautiful young woman. The blue ribbon in her hair told Victor that it was Lia, not her twin sister, Megan. That was, of course, assuming that the girls didn¡¯t switch ribbons occasionally to play tricks on people. He had been unable to notice any significant difference between the two young ladies in his few short encounters with them. It didn¡¯t help that his face turned bright red whenever one caught him studying her, either. Lia was wearing the same outfit as when he had gone to sleep, which made sense because it had been early morning at that time. She held a blue robe that looked a little too big for him yet comfy.


    ¡°She is the most beautiful woman I have ever met, but you¡¯re a close second.¡± Victor said without hesitation, smiling at the young maid. He really wasn¡¯t all that interested in girls yet, but Shaylyn had always told him, ¡°Kindness has its own rewards.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you just the cutest thing? If you were ten years older, I¡¯d make sure you believed those words.¡± She winked down at him and held the robe open for him to put on.


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Victor eloquently stated as he realized that he was naked underneath the blanket. He had heard Bartholomew telling the girls to burn his and Shawnrik¡¯s clothes as soon as they got into the tub. Lia rolled her eyes before tossing the robe onto the bed and turning around, giving him the chance to wrap the oversized robe around his body and tie it in place.


    ¡°It¡¯s the smallest one we could find,¡± she said, talking to the wall. She then turned her head slightly so that he could see the smile on her face as she continued. ¡°It¡¯s mine.¡±


    He tried not to act surprised or embarrassed. By the way his face was warming, he knew he wasn¡¯t doing a very good job. ¡°I thank you for the use of your robe, m¡¯lady.¡± Victor gave his best attempt at a stately bow, which caused her to look wide-eyed at him and giggle. Feeling he had regained some of his pride, he smiled.


    ¡°If you will just follow me, I will show you to the dining room.¡± She walked towards the door that led into the upstairs hallway, expecting her young charge to follow.


    Nim¡¯s mansion was not as large as the house he had broken into the night before, yet it seemed much more elegant to the young thief¡¯s eye. Paintings lined each side of the hall, and there were sculptures placed throughout. Lia led him down the right side of the large stairway into the entry hall of the house, towards a large statue of a great cat hovering over its prey, and then right into the long hallway behind the other set of stairs. There was only one set of doors set into the left side of the hallway, but they continued on towards the end of the corridor where it opened up into another room. As they walked, Victor looked out of one of the massive windows on his right, seeing beautiful flowers encircling an outdoor fountain and the street where it crept up the hill on the other side of the hedge.


    He found himself entering a room that would be able to hold all two stories of The Serpent¡¯s Dagger inside of it. He guessed that the ceilings had to be at least twenty-five feet high. Grand, arching windows all along one side overlooked yet another garden full of flowers, trees, and manicured shrubs. The room was built around a table roughly five times as long as the room was tall. Like everything else in the house, it was a work of art.


    His gaze was drawn to a painting that took up the entire left wall, spanning all the way down to a doorway, which he assumed led to the kitchen, at the other end of the room. It depicted a battlefield with two armies facing each other¡ªone wearing white armor, weapons gleaming in the light, the other in dark armor, weapons dripping with blood. The land around the armies was desolate. In between the two legions stood a man. At least, Victor assumed he was a man. His body from the waist down looked as normal as any human¡¯s, but his upper half seemed to be split into two separate men. One side was trying to head towards the army of the light, his head adorned with a white headband, weapons glowing like the sun. The other wore all black and his mouth was painted open, seeming to be yelling orders to the army of the night. There was a sense that everyone depicted on both sides was staring at the man in the middle as if waiting to see which side he would choose. With this realization came a thought: When he chooses, the carnage will begin.


    ¡°Ah, Victor. Admiring my painting, are we?¡± Victor tore his gaze away from the giant mural to see Nim walking his way, wearing a black robe made out of more of that silk stuff. Over his right breast was a lightning bolt surrounded by flames. This was the first time he had seen him without a hood, and the effect was startling. His eyes were even more striking in the light of day than they had been from the dark of his cowl. His hair was cropped short yet sparkled in the light like metal. As he moved closer, Victor realized that the hair had interlocking pieces that caught the light like a suit of armor.


    His hair is scaled! It hit Victor like a hammer.


    Nim looked down at him, clearly not enjoying being ogled in his own home. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Okay, really¡­ where can I get hair like that?¡± Victor¡¯s hand twitched as he stopped it from heading towards Nim¡¯s head.


    ¡°You have to be born to the wrong people at the right time,¡± Nim countered, one eyebrow higher than the other. ¡°Seriously, though, do you like my painting?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I do! It¡¯s so detailed, and it says so much without saying anything. Who did it?¡± He found that it was hard to look away from the painting now that his attention had been brought back to it.


    ¡°I did.¡± Nim turned towards the painting. The two stood staring at it, lost in their own thoughts. Neither heard Lia as she quietly excused herself from the room.


    ¡°It¡¯s really good,¡± Victor said quietly after some time had passed. ¡°It¡¯s like I can feel the emotion coming from both sides. I can see the struggle the man in the middle is going through. Is it about the nature of man being both good and evil? His struggle to find his place in it all?¡±


    Nim looked down at him in surprise. Okay, Nim, remember that he just looks eight. He¡¯s really more like a smart, old man stuck in a child¡¯s body. That¡¯s got to be it; he¡¯s really some powerful wizard playing mind games with me. There is no way an eight-year-old¡¯s thoughts can get that deep. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re only eight? Maybe you just didn¡¯t grow or something?¡± he asked, only half joking.


    Victor¡¯s thoughts were all aimed towards the painting, so it took a few seconds for the question to register. ¡°Oh, no, I¡¯m only eight. Shaylyn told me that I was different because of who my parents were¡­ and because of something else that went on around my birth. She didn¡¯t seem to want to talk about it much, so I let the issue lie. Just talk to me like I¡¯m older, and we¡¯ll get along fine.¡±


    Nim couldn¡¯t help the small shake of his head as he asked, ¡°Shaylyn who?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah, sorry. Um, Shaylyn was my teacher. She raised me from birth, pretty much. She was a like a mother to me until about a year ago.¡± Victor walked up and down the length of the painting to get a closer look at different segments of the battlefield.


    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®was¡¯? Did something happen to her? Was she a mystic?¡± Nim¡¯s emotions flew between elation at finding the boy and worry for his old friend.


    ¡°Yeah, I think I heard her called that once or twice. As to what happened¡­ there was a fire. I assume it was caused by the blood mage. I wasn¡¯t there to see the battle, but the house was a mess when I got there. Now I¡¯m living with Ol¡¯ Man Walkins. So is Shawnrik.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry. She died?¡± Nim couldn¡¯t keep the sadness from his voice. He had known the mystic, Shaylyn Arasm¨¦. She had helped him when he was younger. Of course, she had gone by a different name then. It would be a detriment to all if she had died. Ol¡¯ Man Walkins¡­ I wonder if that¡¯s Michael C. Walkins? Maybe that fight we had made him into an old man before his time.


    ¡°Oh, no, she¡¯s not dead.¡± Victor said without a hint of doubt.


    ¡°You said that there was a blood mage. That the house was on fire. If she isn¡¯t dead, then why isn¡¯t she raising you still?¡±


    Victor shrugged because he really didn¡¯t know the answer. ¡°I said there was a battle, but she was gone before the blood mage. I am sure she¡¯s not dead. And I¡¯m sure that whatever is keeping her away is important.¡±


    I hope you¡¯re right, kid. Be safe, Tyrdra, for all our sakes.


    ¡°What about my question on the painting, though?¡±


    Nim didn¡¯t feel like letting his thoughts wander over the idea that his old friend might be dead, so he answered Victor¡¯s initial question. ¡°Well, I think that your observation is rather good, but I got a deeper sense of it as the painting slowly came together. It almost felt like divine inspiration. At first, I thought that the figure in the middle was going to be me, narcissist that I am, but after it was finished, I knew that it wasn¡¯t. As much as it pains me to admit, it¡¯s on much too grand a scale for little ol¡¯ me. No, I think that this is a turning point in the battle between good and evil¡ªmaybe even between life and death themselves. On one side lies salvation for the world; on the other, destruction. The choice that man makes will tip the scale one way or the other. As it is, the sides look almost even. But I counted, and there are five more men on the side of destruction. I don¡¯t know if that means anything, but there it is. Either way, it doesn¡¯t much matter to me as long as the coming war allows me to turn a profit or spread my influence.¡±


    Victor listened silently as he spoke, nodding in agreement with the man¡¯s assessment of the battlefield. ¡°Shaylyn would say that it would be better for the man to choose the side of good.¡±


    ¡°What do you think, Victor?¡± Nim asked, really wanting to know what was in the boy¡¯s heart.


    ¡°I think¡­ there is going to be a war. People are going to die. The face of the world will change. One way or the other, it¡¯s still just a turning point. Even if he chooses the side of light, the darkness still has four more on him.¡±


    ¡°What war? Did I miss something?¡± Shawnrik came into the dining room, following Megan. The emerald green robe he wore must have belonged to Megan because it was just big enough to cover him.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Nim said. ¡°You almost missed our early afternoon meal. Now, let¡¯s sit down and enjoy before it¡¯s time for dinner.¡± He eyed Victor with newfound respect as they took their seats for the meal.


    Shortly after the food arrived, so did Ashur. He sat down without a word and dug into the plate that had been set for him. The atmosphere was rather subdued, the two boys not knowing if they were supposed to talk at the table. It was allowed at Ol¡¯ Man Walkins¡¯s place most of the time, but sometimes the man would get violent if someone spoke at the wrong time. Since the men were both being quiet, the boys decided to be, as well.


    Halfway through the meal, Jenn, no longer wearing her maid¡¯s uniform, came into the room. She now wore a sleek, black outfit that was just loose enough to conceal a lot of weapons, Victor thought. Silently, Nim stood and went through the door at the end of the dining room, Jenn right behind him. They were in the other room long enough for everyone else to finish the late lunch.


    Upon his return, Nim announced that the tailor was there and sent the boys to get measured for their new clothing. Victor and Shawnrik had never been fitted for clothes, but it didn¡¯t take long for the novelty of the situation to wear thin. Neither knew how long he had been poked and prodded by the tailor and his assistants, but when it was all over, each had a nice, new outfit. As he was leaving, the tailor told Nim that he would have more ready in the morning. Next, a shoemaker was brought in. He said it would take a day or two to make the shoes, but that he would send a pair over for each boy in the meantime.


    By the time the shoemaker left, it was time for dinner. After a filling meal of what Nim referred to as a meager five courses, the group walked down the hallway and entered the double doors that led to what Nim called his waiting room.


    It was one of the smallest rooms in the house, which still made it bigger than the common room at any inn that Victor had ever seen. Still, for its size, it had a homelike quality about it. There were several couches and half a dozen padded chairs for people to rest in. The northern wall held a large fireplace with a stylized mantle made from a single large block of stone. Between two of the chairs sat a chess board, one side¡¯s pieces made from a shiny black stone, the other¡¯s a glossy white. As with the rest of the manor they had seen thus far, there were framed paintings in the empty spaces of each wall, and sculptures guarded the corners of the room. A cabinet, filled with differently sized bottles, the contents of which were a variety of colors, stood near the door. Victor thought he could see the outline of what might possibly be a third door out of the room on the southern wall. Before he could ask about it, Nim began to speak.


    ¡°Have a seat, boys,¡± he said, moving to one of the chairs near the chessboard.


    Victor and Shawnrik sat down on the couch opposite the chair.


    ¡°Is that what every day is like when you¡¯re rich?¡± Victor said, yawning the last words.


    ¡°Oh, no. Today was easy. It¡¯s when you have to deal with other rich people that the day gets really exhausting.¡± His tone was light, but Victor could tell by the man¡¯s face that he was being serious.


    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t mind,¡± Shawnrik said. ¡°The whole time we were standing there getting poked and measured, they kept bringing me fruit juice! Strawberry, apple, and some other kind that made my throat tingle. This was the best day ever!¡± He nearly jumped out of his seat as he spoke, obviously not as tired out from the day as Victor was.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Victor looked around, letting out a deep sigh. ¡°Yeah, it was, but we should be returning to Ol¡¯ Man Walkins. He¡¯s probably going insane looking for us, and he¡¯ll want to know that I didn¡¯t get the manacles.¡±


    ¡°Well, about that¡­¡± Nim cleared his throat. ¡°Do you know anything about the manacles you were trying to steal last night?¡±


    The lads both shook their heads in the negative.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll tell you about them. They were created by a dracair shaman some three or four hundred years ago to imprison his archrival, a human blood mage of considerable talent. As you should know, the Dracair are a race of men who were created through thousands of years of draconic breeding programs. The shaman found a master blacksmith who hated the blood mage nearly as much as he did to forge the manacles for him. He had one of his apprentices, a practitioner of rune-forging, inscribe them with several potent and malicious runes. For the final step, he had his apprentices gather a hundred humans, whom he sacrificed to the dracair god, Relikos. For one year, he was to soak the manacles in the blood of his sacrifices, using his power to make the blood stay fresh.


    ¡°Only a few days remained of that year when the blood mage appeared with the families and friends of the hundred the shaman had sacrificed in tow. A long battle ensued between the villagers seeking revenge and the shaman and his apprentices. In the end, the blood mage and the villagers were victorious.


    </a> ¡°They spent the next two days combing the shaman¡¯s refuge, making sure that all Dracair within were slain. Not knowing what lied within, the blood mage used the pool of blood to enhance his will as he caused the mountain to shake, sending thousands of heavy stones falling down to block the entrance, creating a tomb for his once-rival.


    ¡°Many years later, a grey elf raiding party chanced upon a Dracair who had become nearly feral in his time below the surface. It took some work, but eventually they found that the Dracair had been young when the attack had occurred and had escaped through several shafts that led deep into the earth. Having long ago claimed all of the land beneath the continent of Terroval as their own, the fallen elves were intrigued by the stories of what they might find in the den of the powerful shaman. It took several months, but the rescued Dracair¡¯s memories bore fruit; they found the way back into the mountain.


    ¡°Many of the wondrous items the shaman had once possessed had been taken after the battle, but in one of the rooms, they found one item that would make all of their efforts worthwhile. A crater sat inside a side cavern, its walls a deep, glossy red. At first, it was difficult to discern the manacles at the bottom because they were the same dark color as the crater, but find them they did.¡±


    Nim paused, ensuring that he had the boys¡¯ attention. He did. ¡°It didn¡¯t take long for the grey elves to become curious as to the purpose of their new acquisition. They began by testing the manacles on their slaves, the only noticeable effect being that they fit whomever they attempted to place them on. They also found that the manacles were exceptionally strong, unbreakable by ordinary means. In and of itself, this was quite the find; however, the grey elf priestesses of Yultair could feel the malicious intent emanating from the manacles and knew that there was another purpose to which they could be set. Yultair is the grey elf god of carnage and their chief deity, who many believe to be just another form taken by the Relikos. The priestesses prayed to their god, sacrificing much before they received the answer they were looking for. Yultair told them that the manacles could be used on any form of caster¡ªbe they Shaper or the chosen of a god¡ªto stop them from being able to access their power.


    ¡°It didn¡¯t take long for word of such a powerful artifact to get around, catching the attention of more than a few of the inhabitants of the cities down below. I¡¯m told that the leader of a gang of rogue grey elves stole it from the worshipers of Yultair, using it for many years to increase her power. Eventually, the manacles somehow made their way to the surface. Whether they were lost by a failed raiding party or whoever was wearing them at the time somehow escaped¡­ the way they surfaced doesn¡¯t really matter. Only that they did.¡± Nim paused to walk over to the drink counter and pour himself a little something to cure his parched throat before finishing.


    ¡°The legend of these manacles,¡± he continued, ¡°has been passed down for the last few hundred years amongst select circles of the Dracair and the grey elves. Tidbits of the story have been slowly picked up by other ears, as well, making them a much sought-after item for those who covet power at any cost. As we saw last night, they somehow ended up in that rather large collection. The owner of that collection, not having the sense to keep such a thing hidden, caused quite a few interested parties to find out about it. The grey elves, the Dracair, some minor crime lords in the Syndicate of the Raven¡ªthey all want the manacles. However, none of those groups wants them as much as the blood mages do, and the blood mages rarely do their own dirty work. No, for jobs like this, they contract out the work to one of their agents in whatever town or area they are dealing in, letting it be known to the other parties that they will not tolerate competition.¡± He turned around to see the boys staring at him, their eyes wide, minds filled with new ideas and places. He figured that this was the first time they had ever heard a story like this, and he could see the wonderment. He studied Victor for a moment. He could tell that the kid was already putting the pieces of the story together into a full image, nearly ready for the biggest revelation.


    ¡°So, I ask you, Victor. How many other thieves did we see last night?¡±


    ¡°None.¡± His tone was unusually defeated.


    ¡°None!¡± Nim pointed his finger in the air and then pointed at himself. ¡°I know that I am not working for the blood mages, and no one besides them would make a move on the manacles before the grey elves, the Dracair, or the Syndicate had made their play for them. I know that I am not working for the grey elves. I have enough loathing for the Dracair that the question shouldn¡¯t even be posed, and the Syndicate has too many practices that go against my sensibilities. So, this means that you are working for someone who is an agent for one of those four parties¡ªor, more likely, for one of the last three parties working for the first. Now, Victor¡­ I am going to give you a guess as to whom Ol¡¯ Man Walkins works for.¡±


    Shawnrik sat up at that last comment, not having understood the implications as they came. ¡°Whaddaya mean?¡± he asked. ¡°Are you tryin¡¯ to say that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait, Shawn.¡± Victor¡¯s voice held only sadness, but Shawnrik spoke again before he could continue.


    ¡°But Vic, he¡¯s sayin¡¯ that Ol¡¯ Man Walkins is workin¡¯ for one of them groups¡ªone of which, I don¡¯t need to remind ya, made you homeless a little more than a year ago.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right, Shawn. It makes sense. All the things we¡¯ve been stealing over the last few months, his late-night meetings with his ¡°contact¡± in the Syndicate. It also explains why he wasn¡¯t surprised when I told him about the blood mage who burned down my house.¡± Victor¡¯s mind was racing, putting so many things together that it was giving him a headache. Nim brought him a glass of water before retaking his place across the room.


    ¡°Wait a minute. You mean he knew that them mages were gonna burn down your house?¡± The doubt was apparent in Shawnrik¡¯s voice.


    ¡°What were you doing on that street last year, Shawn?¡±


    ¡°I dunno. I was told to go there and stake out the neighborhood for¡­ for, um¡­ well, that¡¯s funny. I don¡¯t remember what for.¡± He shook his head at the last, no longer looking as sure as he had been a moment before.


    ¡°I used to go down that street a lot on my outings. I think a mage gave me the suggestion to run there that night, as well. I took off running, not knowing where my feet were taking me, and ran until I bumped into you; then you took me to meet him.¡± Victor¡¯s voice had become so cold that it gave Shawnrik a shiver. He wasn¡¯t the only one in the room that it had that effect on.


    ¡°Now, wait a minute, Victor! I didn¡¯t have nuthin¡¯ to do with the fire, and I don¡¯t know about any blood mages. Ya gotta believe me!¡± The older boy was near to tears, fearing that his friend was going to hate him for something he didn¡¯t and couldn¡¯t have known about.


    Victor¡¯s expression softened when he realized that Shawnrik thought he was angry with him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Shawn. I¡¯m not mad at you. I would like to hear the truth from Ol¡¯ Man Walkins, though.¡± He stood from his chair, clearly intending to head out right then for answers.


    ¡°Hold up, lad,¡± Nim said, approaching to kneel in front of Victor. ¡°This will be the first of many lessons that I hope to teach you. Never, ever, go seeking the truth while rage fills your gut. The only thing that will happen is something that you will regret later. If you confront the situation with a cool head, you won¡¯t have to regret whatever it is you have to do. You won¡¯t have those lingering doubts that it only turned out that way because you were angry. Believe me, you do not want doubts like those plaguing you.¡±


    Victor stood still, staring into Nim¡¯s reptilian gaze while Shawnrik stared into the fire, both feeling numb: Victor, because things that had been nagging at him for a while were finally coming into focus, and Shawnrik, because his whole life looked like it was a lie, and his ideas for what the future would be like had just come crashing down. It would all be different from this point forward. Nim, balanced on one knee, laid a comforting hand on Victor¡¯s shoulder, not saying a word, letting the boys make the decision themselves.


    ¡°Tomorrow evening, I would like to go and talk with Ol¡¯ Man Walkins, and I would like it if you would be close by when I do, Nim.¡± Victor pushed the words out through gritted teeth. Nim nodded that he would, and a lot of the pressure that had been building inside Victor dissipated with that nod. ¡°I know that you have already been exceedingly gracious to us, but I would also like to ask that you allow Shawnrik and me to stay here for a day or two until we can find a new place.¡±


    Nim let out a chuckle, his mouth dry from holding his breath. He squeezed the young boy¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Victor, you may both stay here for as long as you like. In fact, I would like to make you both a proposition when all of this is through. For now, though, I think it would be best if we all retired for the evening. We can plan out any actions for tomorrow in the morning.¡± He ushered them out of the waiting room, walking in silence with them up the stairs. Deciding to give them some time, he left them as they reached the top of the stairs, wishing them both a good night. The two lads said goodnight and continued down the hall in a daze.


    ¡°What are we gonna do now, Vic?¡± Shawnrik whispered.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Victor was wondering what would become of them, as well. He looked over at his only true friend in the world, who looked like he was about to break down into tears and tried to take on a cheerier tone. ¡°But we will figure it out together. Nothing can beat us as a team. We will take on the world, Shawnrik, you and I.¡±


    Shawnrik cheered up a bit at this, and Victor could see the wheels in his head turning. He could tell by the look on his friend¡¯s face that he was imagining them both growing older, taking on the world side by side. ¡°It will be alright, won¡¯t it, Vic?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Shawnrik¡­ it¡¯ll be alright. I¡¯ll see you in the morning.¡± They reached Victor¡¯s room, shaking each other¡¯s hand goodnight as they had done many times in the past. This time, it somehow turned into an embrace¡ªtwo friends who had just found out that the world they knew was gone, holding onto the only real thing left. It lasted only a few seconds, but it released a lot of barriers that the boys had put up earlier, each of them hoping with all his might that he wasn¡¯t alone. Victor opened the door to his room and slipped inside.


    Shutting the door, he slid down it and began to cry. I don¡¯t know if it will be alright, Shawnrik. I don¡¯t know anything. The world that had been so familiar this morning was completely foreign to him now. How could he know whom to trust? He thought he could trust Shawnrik, but how far could he trust Nim? He was fairly certain that the man wanted to use him for some game of his own. Everyone had a hidden agenda, it seemed.


    Maybe he should start making his own. Nim had a lot of resources, and Victor knew he could learn quite a bit from him. I¡¯ll let him plot out my moves for a while, and when I think he has taught me enough, I¡¯ll leave. He might even be able to get Ashur to train Shawnrik. As his thoughts came into focus, his vision cleared. I will no longer be a pawn. This is my life. I will do what I know is right. With a clarity that had thus far evaded him in life, he said, ¡°It¡¯ll all be alright, Shawnrik. Everything will be just fine.¡±


    Shawnrik stood immobile at the door, held in place by the quiet sobs coming from the other side, wondering if everything was really going to be alright. Suddenly, the sobbing stopped, and the world was quiet, as if holding its breath.


    He was getting ready to leave when he heard Victor say, ¡°It¡¯ll all be alright, Shawnrik. Everything will be just fine.¡±


    He wondered if Victor knew that he was still there. The words were said with such conviction that they drew out any doubt in Shawnrik¡¯s head, leaving only a certainty that things would, indeed, be alright. He resisted the urge to knock on the door, not wanting Victor to know that he had heard him crying. Instead, he snuck down the hall, quietly opening the door to his room and just as quietly closing it. As he stood inside the opulent room, he reaffirmed the vow he had made just two days earlier. I¡¯m going to be there when you need me. I know now how I will be your right-hand man. I¡¯ll get Ashur to train me.


    Nim walked back into his waiting room to find Ashur sitting by the fire, reading a book. He looked rather comfortable in gentleman¡¯s clothes, with one leg crossed over the other, seemingly engrossed in whatever he was reading. Nim walked to the bar and made himself a drink. He held the bottle up, wordlessly asking if Ashur wanted any, but Ashur waved it away, pointing to the still full glass beside him.


    ¡°What are you reading?¡± Nim asked, moving one of the chairs closer to the fire.


    ¡°A book some scholar wrote on fighting techniques and the mind of a fighter. It¡¯s amazing how many things are wrong in here. I guess it just goes to show that you can try to explain something, but sometimes it just doesn¡¯t come out like it should. At least, that¡¯s the way I see things.¡± He placed a bookmark into the point he was at before setting it down on his lap.


    ¡°What are you trying to tell me?¡± Nim raised an eyebrow at his oldest living friend.


    ¡°I heard a lot of what you were telling the boys. I¡¯ve heard of these manacle things, too, but I¡¯ve never heard that particular story before.¡± He picked up his glass and took a sip, looking at Nim over the rim.


    ¡°So I embellished a little. It¡¯s all remotely true. Sure, some facts weren¡¯t as accurate as others; I don¡¯t know that there were a hundred people sacrificed. It was probably more like ten, but the story is all in the telling. I¡¯ve told you that before. I was just trying to get them to see the way of things in the quickest way possible. No harm done.¡±


    ¡°No harm done? You just brought those boys¡¯ worlds crashing down around them, and there¡¯s no harm done? I¡¯ll tell you what¡­ if I didn¡¯t think that Victor was sharper than you, I¡¯d warn him to run while he can. You know I¡¯m going to have to train that Shawnrik boy. Victor will need a good sword arm with him for whatever you¡¯ve got cooking in that brain of yours. Just remember, Nim, they are only kids. Victor might have the sense of a man in his twenties, maybe even more, but¡­ he¡¯s still just a kid.¡± Each sentence came with a larger gesture and a little more liquid lost over the rim of his drink.


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re right. They are both kids; therefore, it¡¯s better that they learn now what a dangerous and rat-infested world we live in. I¡¯ve just made those boys more aware. That will probably save their lives¡ª¡±


    ¡°Or send them to an early grave,¡± Ashur interjected, barely stopping the flow of words from his friend.


    ¡°¡ªand it will also help them with the changes that will be coming. You¡¯re going to have to train that kid hard if he is going to keep up with Victor, you know. Victor is¡­ amazing. He must have only been three or four when he began his training. Do you realize what that means?¡± Nim paced in front of the fireplace, his excitement no longer allowing him to sit still.


    ¡°That he didn¡¯t have, and isn¡¯t going to have, a childhood?¡± Ashur said wryly. Nim stopped long enough to shoot a glare at him before he continued pacing.


    ¡°It means that the boy has been taught things that people usually don¡¯t¡ªand can¡¯t¡ªlearn until they are much older. Not only does learning new things come more easily to a child in their first few years of life, but those lessons also become second nature. It means that I¡¯ll be able to teach him most of what I know within a year or two, and he will still be at a prime age for learning even more. It means that I am going to prepare this boy to face life as a man. He will be able to go to banquets and converse with royalty, and he will be able to lobby for things the way that I was never able to. He will be accepted¡­ and he will be feared.¡±


    Ashur gazed into the fire for some time and then looked at his friend and shrugged. ¡°I figured it was something like that. As I said earlier, if it wasn¡¯t for the fact that I think the boy is sharper than you, I¡¯d warn him away. I also have a lot of respect for that Shawnrik kid. He reminds me a lot of myself.¡±


    Nim gave him an incredulous expression.


    Ashur stared back, daring Nim to challenge his statement, before he clarified, ¡°He reminds me of myself in that he¡¯s going to be stuck following Victor for the rest of his life, and he¡¯s got a good head on his shoulders.¡±


    ¡°Stuck? Are you stuck following me now? I could swear that it was your choice to follow me all of those years ago. You had your father¡¯s title to inherit, and all that money. You could probably have been a duke by now. Would you trade all of the experiences we¡¯ve had adventuring together for any of that?¡± His tone was full of mock indignation. He knew full well that Ashur wouldn¡¯t have changed a thing.


    ¡°No. But, just like me, that boy¡¯s gonna follow his friend into the bowels of hell, and he¡¯ll either come out laughing or die in the attempt. Ashur set his glass on the table. ¡°I expect I should get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow is probably going to be an interesting day.¡± He tucked his book into the crook of his arm. ¡°You should get some sleep, too. All that plotting has gotta tire a man out,¡± he said, quietly exiting the room.


    Nim was left standing alone by the fire, thinking about what Ashur had said. He had never fully realized it before. Through all of the undertakings that he had pulled Ashur along on, the man had never raised a complaint. He¡¯ll either come out laughing or die in the attempt. Is that the way it has been all these years, my friend? I suppose it has. Well, if it was that bad for them, it would probably be worse for Victor and Shawnrik. He spent the next few hours remembering all of the adventures he had been on with his friends and looking forward to all those he knew were yet to come.

 Chapter 6: A Night to Remember

    Year 3043 AGD


    Month: New Year


    Second Day


    Continent of Terroval


    City of Safeharbor


    Cliff¡¯s End


    Nim¡¯s mansion


    Dawn brought a new sense of life to the place, the crisp sea air seemingly full of the winds of change. Victor awoke feeling as if the world were a shining, new place to explore, and he wanted to see every inch of it. Lia sensed that something was different and couldn¡¯t help but giggle as Victor ran to the window, looking at the world outside from every angle he could manage. He dressed quickly, not the slightest bit bothered by Lia¡¯s presence today.


    Running downstairs, jumping and playing the whole way, he stopped to marvel at the statue in the entrance hall. He looked at the large cat, which Nim had identified as a lion, and then his gaze fell to the deer at the lion¡¯s mercy. The meaning of the statue jumped out at him.


    ¡°You are either the hunter or the prey,¡± he whispered to himself and was startled to hear a now familiar voice behind him.


    ¡°Excellent, Victor. And which would you be? The deer? Or the lion.¡±


    Victor looked at Nim as if the man had lost his mind. ¡°I am the lion.¡±


    Nim nodded, as if the answer had been clear. ¡°Ah, yes, but if you are the lion¡­ then who is the deer?¡± His smile barely touched his eyes.


    Victor lost a bit of steam. He had not expected such a question. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Nim gestured towards the statue, and they both turned to look at it as he started talking again. ¡°Well, the lion is considered an unyielding and ferocious predator, but he also defends his lands and protects his pride¡ªhis pride being the lionesses and any other male lions he allows to live in his zone of influence. In order to survive, they must eat. Unfortunately, it is the deer and others like it that end up as lunch. The lion feels no remorse for killing the animal, for it was simply doing what it needed to do to survive. The deer has done nothing to the lion; it was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.


    ¡°The deer represents those people who go through life carefree, not realizing that there is a predator just out of eyeshot. On the other hand, maybe they do realize it but simply choose to ignore it because it is easier to pretend that the danger isn¡¯t there.¡±


    He looked down at Victor. After a moment of silence, the boy turned to look up at him, a thoughtful expression lining his features.


    ¡°Are you following what I am saying, Victor? If you have any questions, ask them.¡±


    ¡°I think I understand. The lion is one who is doing right by himself and his pride, but he has to sacrifice the life of his prey to do so. I don¡¯t understand what you mean by who the deer represents, though.¡± He examined the statue for another, silent minute, his face serious in thought. ¡°Wait¡­ the deer isn¡¯t an enemy. It is just a means of survival, a needed loss in order to continue to exist. If the lion didn¡¯t kill and eat, he would waste away and die or weaken and become prey to another predator.¡± Victor¡¯s attitude that he had woken up with now began to take on a new light.


    Nim stood there for a moment before giving his head a small shake of amazement. How many people would have seen through to the heart of it like that? Every time he talked to Victor, the child surprised him just a little bit more. ¡°That¡¯s right. The deer is just a means of survival, allowing the lion to be strong enough to face its foes."


    ¡°Of course, the lions on the other continents are nothing like the ones on Terroval. I saw one once on Telleros and tried to talk to it, but all it did was growl and then charge at me! Dispatching it was an easy matter, but I was so surprised by its aggression that I took a wound from the beast. I still have the scar.¡± He rolled up his right sleeve so that he could show it to Victor. Three long lines ran across his forearm where the lion had struck.


    ¡°I¡¯ve found that most of the creatures in the rest of the world are nothing like those we have here. Somehow, the blood of the dragons¡ªboth the good and the bad¡ªhas run rampant on this continent, and nothing seems unaffected by it. Many of the creatures out there hate the Dracair as much as the rest of us, but some hate us as much as we hate the Dracair.


    ¡°We have a few allies, though. South of the great desert are the Lions of the Night, and east of those, the Lions of the Sky inhabit the rocky cliffs of the Sea of Turmoil. In the forests to the north there are the great packs of the Silver Wolves and the Twilight Wolves. West of the great desert, in the dense forests known to the Dracair as Death¡¯s Edge, I have come across the Death¡¯s Edge Wolverines. Their entire existence is built around rooting out evil and exterminating it from their territory by any means necessary. The wolverines are the only race of those I have mentioned who have not developed the ability of speech, but they are smart and won¡¯t attack unless they smell the taint of darkness on you. Luckily for me, they seem to be able to somehow sense intent, as well, or I might not have made it out of there alive, being half dracairei, myself.¡±


    Each creature spoken of had brought to mind another half dozen questions, but Nim raised a hand, forestalling Victor¡¯s natural curiosity. ¡°Later¡­ you can ask me later, Victor. For now, it¡¯s time for a light breakfast.¡±


    Victor sniffed the air, nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of bacon, and promptly forgot every question he had been about to ask. ¡°Yes, breakfast sounds good.¡±


    Nim had called it a light breakfast, but the meal laid out for them as they entered the dining hall was a grand display. Dishes of all kinds were piled high with a variety of delicious foods that Victor was sure would please a king. After everyone had their fill, the small group relocated to the back veranda, taking in the sea air as they overlooked the ocean. The veranda was just far enough back that the harbor walls were barely visible over the cliff¡¯s edge. Everyone seemed content in their own thoughts as they watched the gentle rise and fall of the ocean waves.


    The sun was halfway to its zenith when Bartholomew coughed lightly and informed the group that the tailor had sent more of the young masters¡¯ clothing up. The packages had been left in the visitors¡¯ room, which was located directly behind the lion statue. Having exited to the outside from a door in the kitchen earlier, the boys had yet to see the visitor¡¯s room. Ashur looked at Nim and rolled his eyes, a knowing smile on his lips, when Nim opened the barely visible doors from the back veranda. It came as no surprise to either of the men when the boys both stopped dead in their tracks upon entering the room.


    The boys were starting to realize just how much Nim enjoyed showing the world that he was fabulously wealthy and an exceptional artist. Over forty feet above their heads, a battle raged between angels and demons amidst storm clouds. As the door closed behind them, they looked upon a white, sandy beach on a clear summer¡¯s day. The ocean disappeared into the distant blue-green sky of the horizon to the west. Facing the north wall, they saw what they would eventually learn was the elven capital, Eske¡¯Taure, as it might be seen from a hilltop overlooking the great forest that surrounds it. On the opposite wall to the south stood a tropical rainforest, creatures of all types hidden within its untamed borders.


    What really caught and held their attention immediately upon entering the room, however, was on the eastern wall: Draco¡¯laire, as it might have looked thousands of years before the Blood Mages had stripped it of its beauty and turned it into the city now known as Siniquity. Giant structures reached for the clouds, gleaming golden as the sunlight tore through to look upon the majestic mountain city where dragons of all shapes, sizes, and colors roamed. Small forms along the sides of the streets ran errands for their draconic masters. It wasn¡¯t until they realized that these tiny figures were made up of all the various races of Terrazil that the sheer magnitude of the once grand city truly came into focus.


    Victor¡¯s initial amazement kept his head swirling, trying to see the whole room at once before his thief¡¯s instincts began to come to the fore. He was fairly certain that there were six points of egress from the room, all of which fit into place so nicely that they barely disrupted the effect of the giant murals. The east and west ends each held one¡ªthe west¡¯s being the doors they had just entered through¡ªand Victor assumed that the east door was behind the lion statue in the entrance hall. Eske¡¯Taure, the elven city on the north wall, held two doors: one which led to the kitchens and another that led to the waiting room they had all been in the night before. Two large sets of double doors on the southern wall led to another room, or possibly two, that Victor had yet to see.


    As they approached the center of the room, Victor noticed that not even the floor had escaped the obvious display of wealth. The floor tiles were polished granite that, while difficult to move, were probably the least ostentatious part of the room. No, what drew Victor¡¯s eye was the symbol that appeared to be floating just off the floor in the center of the visitors¡¯ room. When sitting on one of the oversized black velvet couches, the symbol would be clearly visible, displaying the allegiance of the house¡¯s owner to any who entered.


    ¡°What¡¯s this symbol?¡± Shawnrik asked, which had the other three people in the room looking at him funny. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t look at me like that! ¡®Taint my fault I ain¡¯t never seen it before!¡±


    Before the two men could recover from what they obviously thought was a grievous oversight in the boy¡¯s education, Victor jumped in to help his friend. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Shawn. It was just one of the first things I learned in school, but it¡¯s not your fault that Walkins obviously didn¡¯t have enough pride in his home city to teach his boys this.¡± Victor nearly fell into a dark state of mind thinking about his former mentor before he realized that he had not answered his friend¡¯s question. ¡°Okay, so¡­ first of all, this is a knight¡¯s shield, and you¡¯ve more than likely seen this three-masted warship that¡¯s on it out in the harbor before.


    </a> ¡°Each of the sails holds a symbol for each of the branches of the Protectorate. On the first sail is a castle wall, the symbol for the knights¡ªwhich you probably know, but what you might not know is that it symbolizes that each knight is a wall holding back the tide of darkness. The second sail, the one on the tallest mast, has a crown upon it symbolizing the Royal House of Terrazil. Obviously, the reason it¡¯s on the tallest mast is because they are so much better than everyone else.¡± Victor rolled his eyes, displaying what he thought of that idea before he continued. ¡°Upon the third sail are two open palms. The right palm holds a skeleton, and the left palm has a flower growing out of it. That is the symbol of the mages. If I remember correctly, this reminds them and everyone else that they have both the power to destroy and the power to create in the palms of their hands.


    ¡°Overlooking the warship¡ªand, therefore, the three branches that are represented upon it¡ªare the ever-vigilant eyes of the Protectorate. The right eye reflects a hand holding a lightning bolt, and the left reflects the scales of justice. These remind the branches of the Protectorate that they must be ever vigilant, ready to use force when needed but always with a level head. Together, all of it is the symbol for the city of Safeharbor.¡±


    Nim nodded along with Victor¡¯s comments before saying, ¡°A bit of a simplified explanation, but accurate, nonetheless. I had this beautiful piece of work commissioned several years ago by none other than the arch magus himself. I¡¯m told that the work behind it is extremely complex. In fact, I believe that I¡¯m told that, usually repeatedly, every time I have a Shaper of any ability whatsoever in this room. You can walk through it if you wish. It won¡¯t disrupt the thing.¡±


    Victor didn¡¯t have to be told twice; he moved into the field, amazement plain to see on his face. As he touched the energy of the shield that he could see but which was not technically there, a pulse of energy ran from his hand up into his neck. He could feel the magnitude of the will behind the creation of the symbol and the pride of the man who made it. The arch magus was a man that obviously loved his city and was more than honored to make such a thing, especially if the job put enough gold in the academy¡¯s coffers to run it for a hundred years. How it was made was far beyond Victor¡¯s understanding, however. All he could discern was that it had something to do with the refraction of light. He knew that as long as nothing disturbed the stones, the energies that were anchored to this Shaping would last a long time, possibly forever, if there was such a thing.


    On the oversized couches were two brown, paper-wrapped packages. The clothing inside was a lot like that of the day before except, of course, it all would fit perfectly. There was a good variation in both shape and the quality of the material within. Some of the shirts had long sleeves and were of an exquisite quality, while the few with sleeves that stopped at the elbows were of a slightly rougher cloth. All of them were of a much finer quality than anything the boys had ever had before¡ªeven finer than the clothing Victor had worn when he¡¯d lived with Shaylyn. There were a half dozen pairs of pants in all different shades of black and blue. Nim knew that the tailor must have had a dozen people working most of the night on the clothes, but he also knew that the money they had made for them would feed them all for months. There was a set of shirts in each of the boy¡¯s bundles that had frills at the neck and wrists.


    ¡°Hey, Nim, I think they gave me a couple of girls¡¯ shirts by accident.¡± Victor said, tongue-in-cheek, as he held up one of the shirts.


    ¡°Yeah, me too.¡± Shawnrik added, completely seriously. This caused a round of laughter that made Victor feel bad for his joke when, a moment later, Shawnrik realized he was the butt of one that he didn¡¯t understand.


    ¡°That is actually the fashion at parties these days,¡± Nim explained to Shawnrik, poking Victor in his side as he said it.


    ¡°Yeah. Sorry, Shawn, I was making a joke. I have seen some people walking around in this junk when I was wandering the streets late at night.¡± He made an apologetic face to his friend.


    ¡°Oh, okay¡­ yeah, I can see that now.¡± Shawnrik still looked like he was having a hard time believing that any man would wear a shirt like the one he was holding. ¡°I guess.¡±


    ¡°I know how you feel, little man,¡± Ashur said, putting a hand on his shoulder, which actually wasn¡¯t all that far down from his own. ¡°I don¡¯t like the frilly things, either, but you stand out in polite society if you don¡¯t wear them.¡±


    Having gone through the clothing and found it acceptable, Nim called for Lia and Megan to take the outfits up to the boys¡¯ rooms and put them away. The boys went red-faced, protesting that they were fully capable of doing it themselves, but the girls gently took the packages, explaining that it was their job. After the twins left, Nim said that they had some planning to do, and that the best place to do planning was in the library.


    Heading towards the southern doors, Nim reached into the trunk of one of the trees in the rainforest and swung the door open. The room they entered was a large, open space with a beautiful, wooden floor.


    ¡°This is the showroom. It¡¯s where I like to show off my artwork to the rich and famous of the city. It¡¯s also the place we hold ballroom dances and receptions if the weather is too cold.¡± Walking across the floor, the soles of their shoes making a sound that echoed throughout the room, they approached another door straight across from where they had entered.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The library was the largest room in the house, taking up half of the entire left side of it. A walkway about ten feet up ran around the room, serving as a second floor. Nim led them to the back of the room, where the same chessboard they had seen the night before was set up. Without another word, he and Ashur sat down at the table to begin a game. Victor and Shawnrik sat on a bench a few feet away, watching the two for a couple of minutes until they started to get bored.


    ¡°What are we doing?¡± Victor asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re having a strategy session. This is where we plan out what we¡¯re going to do,¡± Nim said, studying the board.


    ¡°Looks to me like you¡¯re playin¡¯ a game.¡± Shawnrik barely managed to not whine his complaint.


    ¡°Yes, it would seem like that to the untrained eye, but chess is a game of strategy, one in which you must anticipate your enemy by as many moves as you can.¡± Nim was speaking in a lecturing tone.


    ¡°What exactly are we planning? Can¡¯t we just go in and talk with him?¡± Victor asked, also not understanding how this was going to help.


    ¡°They¡¯re killing my concentration.¡± Ashur looked at Nim pleadingly, causing him to shrug in defeat.


    ¡°Fine, no chess today. First of all, Victor, what if you get there and the blood mages are waiting for you? What are you going to do? I know you¡¯re good, but your skills are nowhere near those of a fully trained and practiced blood mage, are they?¡±


    The last two words had sounded more like a direct question than a rhetorical one, so Victor shook his head no.


    That headshake caused Nim to let out a breath he hadn¡¯t known he was holding. ¡°Siniquitans are a vicious lot as it is¡ªconniving and deceitful. They are a big part of the continent¡¯s slave trade, for Cypheria¡¯s sake! Then we have to deal with Michael C. Walkins, known by you as Ol¡¯ Man Walkins. He¡¯s a whole heap of trouble even without the blood mages being added into the mix. You can¡¯t just run into these things headfirst.¡±


    Ashur laughed. ¡°Yeah, no one¡¯s ever done that before.¡±


    Nim silenced him with a quick glare that both of the boys caught.


    ¡°Why not? You and Ashur do it all the time.¡± Victor knew what Ashur had meant and was now using it against Nim. Ashur let out a big guffaw, and Nim put his hand over his face.


    ¡°See what you did?¡± he said beneath his hand. ¡°I try to teach the boys careful planning, and you have to go and mess it up.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like we know what careful planning is, anyway,¡± Ashur said truthfully. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve planned for any engagement in our lives. Just made sure we had enough food and water for a long trip and that our weapons were sharp. Hell, we go down hunting in those sewers and caverns Every other Eighthday, and I don¡¯t remember ever strategizing over what we were gonna do first.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because we¡¯ve worked together for so long that we know what the other person is going to do, so we don¡¯t need to talk about it. Now, we are bringing new people into the equation. We need to plan.¡± Nim knew that he was losing the argument, but he wanted to voice his opinion.


    ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out as we go along,¡± Victor stated with finality, standing up from the table.


    Nim threw his hands up in a concession of defeat. His first strategy session with the boys was a complete failure.


    As the group made their way towards the Docks District, Victor looked at Nim. ¡°So, where are you two going to be when Shawnrik and I go in?¡±


    ¡°See, these are the kinds of details that get covered in a strategy session,¡± he quickly retorted.


    Shawnrik raised an eyebrow before looking at Ashur. ¡°Is he pouting?¡±


    ¡°I am not pouting,¡± Nim said, crossing his arms in front.


    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t called pouting, what¡¯s it called? ¡®Cause it doesn¡¯t suit ya at all,¡± Ashur said as they rounded a corner.


    ¡°I am not pouting. I am simply saying that we could have had all of these details covered, and I want someone to admit that I¡¯m right!¡±


    ¡°Fine. You¡¯re right, Nim. Next time, we will have a better strategy session. As to what we are about to do, though¡­ what are you guys going to do?¡± Victor couldn¡¯t help the small grin that formed as Nim let out a small sigh.


    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you were pouting.¡± Ashur hung his head, acting like he was ashamed of his friend.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t pouting,¡± Nim huffed. ¡°Ashur and I will be on the roof next door. If we hear or see anything funny going on, we¡¯ll come in and assist. What¡¯s your plan of engagement, Victor?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t plan on getting married for a long time. Why, you have someone in mind?¡± Victor asked, clearly confused.


    Nim shook his head. ¡°Engagement¡­ as in your attack plan. What do you plan on doing?¡±


    ¡°Well, you should have said ¡®attack plan¡¯. You made it sound like you wanted my plan for marriage.¡± Victor winked, letting him know that he knew what he had meant all along.


    ¡°Sharper¡­ much sharper,¡± Ashur said, laughing as Nim gave him a dark look.


    ¡°Well, I figure that I will just walk in the front door. Maybe lead up with some talk about how there was another robber there and how he got to the manacles first. Then, I can say that Shawnrik and I were being chased, and we hid out until we thought it was safe. And then I¡¯ll work in the harder questions.¡± Victor¡¯s mind was working overtime, and he almost stepped in a steaming pile that a horse had thoughtlessly dropped a short while earlier.


    ¡°That sounds like a good plan,¡± Nim replied. ¡°We should separate now. Ashur and I know the way to The Serpent¡¯s Dagger. We¡¯ll meet you there.¡±


    ¡°Okay, see you there.¡± The look he gave told Nim, don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve got this.


    </a> Victor and Shawnrik continued down the street, heading towards their former home and the confrontation to come. A few blocks before The Serpent¡¯s Dagger, Victor pulled Shawnrik into a small alcove, away from prying eyes. Pulling in the potential particles around them, he set about hardening their skin and clothes just enough to potentially limit the damage should they be hit by any sort of weapon. Next, he created two temporary traps that would only trigger under the right circumstances. The first was a simple Shaping that would create a quick but strong gust of wind to deflect any small projectiles away from the boys. The second was another simple yet effective trap. Its purpose was to absorb the kinetic energy from any impacts upon the boys¡¯ skin or clothes. It would then re-purpose that energy into maintaining or renewing the other two Shapings. Shawnrik didn¡¯t ask what Victor was doing. He never did. And Victor wasn¡¯t in the mood to talk, anyway.


    They arrived at The Serpent¡¯s Dagger as the sun was nearing the horizon. They walked around the back and went up the stairs. Each of them took a deep breath as they reached the landing, and Victor reached out his hand to open the door.


    Ol¡¯ Man Walkins was sitting at the table, a deck of cards spread out before him. He looked up sharply when the door opened but smiled upon seeing Victor and Shawnrik entering. Victor saw it for what it was, though: a crooked grin that never seemed to reach his eyes. The fake smile dropped from his face when he saw the clothes that the boys were wearing and was replaced with a frown when he saw the scowl on Victor¡¯s face.


    ¡°Boys! It¡¯s good to see you. Where are the manacles?¡± His tone was jovial, but Victor watched his hand as it went under the table to slide the dagger that he kept there out of its sheath. Ol¡¯ Man Walkins wouldn¡¯t take any chances when dealing with Shawnrik or Victor. He had trained them too well for that.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have the manacles,¡± Victor said bluntly. ¡°You¡¯ll have to tell the Siniquitans that we couldn¡¯t get it.¡±


    Shawnrik¡¯s mouth fell open as his mind registered what his friend had just said. He had expected Victor to stick to what he¡¯d told Nim he would do, but the plan had obviously changed somewhere between there and here. ¡°Vic, what happened to playin¡¯ it cool?¡± he hissed.


    ¡°Why, Victor, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talkin¡¯ about.¡± Ignoring Shawnrik¡¯s question, Walkins shook his head. ¡°Who has filled your head with these lies? Tell me, and I¡¯ll make sure they can¡¯t do it again.¡±


    ¡°The only one telling me lies was you, old man.¡± Victor felt himself begin to seethe; then he remembered what Nim had said about doing this while in a rage. All of the anger bled out of him, and a strange calm suffused his body. His entire stance and demeanor changed, and he watched as Ol¡¯ Man Walkins shifted uncomfortably. ¡°What I want to know is if you had anything to do with the attack on my home. Did you have anything to do with driving Shaylyn away?¡±


    Walkins had seen Victor ferret out lies when the kid knew what he was looking for, and he knew he dare not lie now. He had been warned about this boy. ¡°Victor, I was just told that you would be on a certain street on that evening. I swear I didn¡¯t know what they were going to do, and I have no idea where Shaylyn Arasm¨¦ is.¡±


    ¡°I believe you, and that may keep you alive,¡± Victor said without feeling. ¡°Who was the mage who burned down my home?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you that, Victor. I¡¯m not sure which one it was, and if I told you their names, they would kill me.¡±


    ¡°Alright. How many of the other kids here were orphaned by the mages¡­ or because of you?¡± Victor stood still, a part of his mind at work gathering energy in case he needed it.


    ¡°All of them.¡±


    Shawnrik tensed beside Victor. He was nearer to fourteen than thirteen, but most people would assume he was nearer to eighteen from his size. Walkins had taught both of them how to damage or kill someone with their bare hands alone. Neither of the boys was particularly skilled at it yet, but Shawnrik was only twenty pounds lighter than Ol¡¯ Man Walkins, even if he himself didn¡¯t realize it.


    ¡°Who killed my family?¡± Shawnrik asked through tight lips and clenched teeth.


    Walkins looked back and forth between the boys, afraid of someone other than a blood mage for the first time in ten years. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple. Your p-parents owed money¡­ and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Victor asked quietly.


    ¡°I did.¡±


    Shawnrik lunged at him, and Walkins threw his dagger. Both of them stopped in surprise when it seemed to take on a mind of its own, changing course at the last instant and ending its flight in a rafter beam above the boy¡¯s head instead of in his eye. Ol¡¯ Man Walkins recovered from the shock first and had another dagger out before Shawnrik made it across the room. Victor wasted no time, being the only one who wasn¡¯t surprised when the dagger had gone astray. He bent his will into forming four small balls of force.


    Walkins was getting ready to slash at Shawnrik when he suddenly found himself flipping over the chair he had been sitting in moments before. He reached down, using the top of the chair to control his descent, twisting in the air and coming down on his feet. He pulled another dagger out and threw it at Victor. Victor was ready for it, already on the move as the dagger left his old mentor¡¯s hand, the point ending up stuck in the door where Victor¡¯s back had been a moment before.


    Shawnrik charged into Walkins, taking a strong left hook in his shoulder as he did so. It wasn¡¯t enough to stop the young man, though, and the old man once again found himself weightless before slamming into one of the support beams, not quite sure if the crack he heard was from the beam or one of his own bones. Shawnrik stumbled backwards as Walkins painfully tried to regain the air that had been knocked out of him. Victor sent another volley of force at the man as he reached down for the daggers in his boots.


    ¡°Shawnrik, get back!¡± Victor yelled as the man succeeded in pulling two of them.


    Shawnrik moved back quickly but knew he would never dodge the throw from this range. Both of the daggers were on mark, the first thudding into his chest, right where his heart was, before falling to the ground. The only evidence it had hit was the small drop of blood on the tip of the dagger. Had Ol Man¡¯ Walkins been prepared, that drop of blood drawn might have been enough to turn the tide, but he had not expected to need to coat his daggers this day.


    The other dagger flew straight for Victor before being thrown to the side by his projectile trap. Walkins blinked disbelievingly as he wondered who the boys had gotten to cast the wards on them, before he realized that Victor wasn¡¯t using a scroll to cast his balls of force. He knew then that they had severely underestimated how much the boy had learned from Shaylyn. Recovering from that shock, he grabbed another set of daggers. He was running out quickly.


    Victor formed four more missiles, a twinge of pain starting in the back of his head telling him that he was stretching his limits. Walkins tried to get out of the way, but the projectiles¡¯ direction changed as if being led to him by a string. His clothes were in tatters, and his body was not faring much better.


    Shawnrik picked up the two daggers lying by his feet¡ªthe one that had been thrown at his heart and the one that Walkins had dropped as he¡¯d gone head over heels over the chair¡ªand hurled them towards the man as he was pulling out his last set of daggers. Ol¡¯ Man Walkins didn¡¯t even try to dodge, seeing that they wouldn¡¯t hit him, and prepared to throw instead. What he didn¡¯t realize until too late was that Shawnrik had not been aiming at him but at the jar behind him.


    The glass shattered, sending a cloud of flour outwards, causing Walkins to cough as he released the daggers. The dagger thrown by his off hand, affected by the cough more than the other, went wide, striking well to the left of the Shawnrik. His other dagger was not nearly so off-target, striking Victor solidly in his left shoulder. Victor¡¯s thickened clothes and skin absorbed much of the damage, but the force of it was enough to push him backwards into the door.


    Walkins rolled out of the cloud of flour, picking up the dagger that had hit the jar. He let fly and, knowing that Shawnrik would throw his other dagger at him, dove for the back room. Shawnrik was bracing for the dagger¡¯s impact when it flew off to the side, Victor¡¯s projectile trap having been refueled by the previous impacts to his body.


    Victor let loose what he knew would be the last set of projectiles he would make this day. The pain in his head made him wince, causing him to miss seeing them impact with Ol¡¯ Man Walkins¡¯s back. Shawnrik threw the dagger in his left hand, his shoulder protesting the action; Walkins had gotten in a good hit earlier when he¡¯d punched him. They both heard the man hit the floor and swear loudly. They were getting ready to move in on him when the door behind Victor was flung open, sending him into the wall with a thud.


    ¡°Oops,¡± Ashur said, walking over to where Victor was sprawled out, extending a hand to help the boy to his feet. ¡°We heard a struggle and came as quick as we could.¡± The fight had only lasted a couple of minutes, so quick as they could had been pretty quick, indeed.


    Walkins rolled over, looking up as he heard the new voices. He groaned. ¡°I should have figured it was you!¡± His voice held nothing but venom. ¡°Only you could ruin somethin¡¯ planned so well, so perfectly.¡±


    ¡°Are you still sore about that fight we had? That was, what, ten years ago? It would never have happened if you hadn¡¯t sold Ashur, Erin and me out to the Dracair,¡± Nim growled, slowly sliding the dagger at his side from its sheath.


    Victor put his hand on Nim¡¯s, easing the dagger back in. ¡°I think he¡¯s had enough for now,¡± he said, his voice sad. ¡°Besides, he¡¯s going to have to tell the blood mages that he failed, and I wouldn¡¯t want to be in that position.¡±


    Nim looked at Victor questioningly but took his hand away from the hilt of the dagger. ¡°Stand up, you coward.¡±


    Walkins stood shakily, using the bed for support, blood dripping from his cheek in a line where Shawnrik¡¯s last throw had grazed him. Nim realized then what Victor had meant. Walkins¡¯s skin was a dark red, his tattered shirt only emphasizing the amount of damage that had been inflicted upon the man in such a short span of mere minutes. He held a dagger defensively, body tensed as if it expected to get hit by another ball of force.


    ¡°I think the boy hurt your pride more than I ever could have. I may have beaten you ten years ago, but I was only four years younger than you. Victor is thirty-two years younger than you and look at you.¡± Nim chuckled dryly as he looked at his old rival.


    Walkins shook with rage, but the man knew that if he tried anything, Nim would kill him. And he very much liked being alive. ¡°Get out of my home!¡± he said.


    At the same moment, a group of children ran up the stairs from the outside. Having been alerted to the fight, one of them had run off to gather the others. ¡°Victor!¡± the wide-eyed seven-year-old named Roland called, and the other children all flooded through the door at his name. There were six of them living in the apartment¡ªfour other boys and two girls. They all stopped and stared at Victor and Shawnrik, who were clean and wore nice clothing.


    Seeing the other kids, Victor realized that he had been being selfish, and he looked at Nim, the question clearly visible on his face.


    Nim nodded when he saw the look. ¡°I can find a place for them. They will have better homes than they had here.¡±


    Victor smiled at him and looked at the other children. ¡°Get some clothes on and get your coats. We¡¯re leaving.¡± They all looked to Walkins, who stood on the other side of the room, eyes full of hatred.


    Shawnrik ushered the kids past the man and into the back room to get their stuff ready. He was the oldest, and they quickly responded to his coaxing. It didn¡¯t take long for all six of them to have their meager possessions gathered up. As the sun began to set, eight children and two adults left the Docks District behind, and not one of them was sad about it.


    ¡°What¡¯s all this, then?¡± a familiar voice asked as they walked past one of the street lamps. Victor looked over to see Watchman Tanner looking in their direction.


    Recognition lit up Nim¡¯s face. ¡°Lance Tanner, is that you?¡±


    Tanner looked at Nim, the same look of recognition lighting up his features. ¡°Nim! How long has it been? Seven, eight years? And it¡¯s Watchman Tanner now.¡±


    ¡°Watchman, eh? I remember when you were a little thief the same age as Shawnrik here,¡± Nim said, walking over to shake hands with Tanner.


    Shawnrik¡¯s head shot up at that, and he smiled. ¡°I knew it! I knew there was something odd about him.¡±


    Watchman Tanner sighed. ¡°Did you have to tell them that? I¡¯m trying to straighten them out.¡± He looked over the children that were assembled there. ¡°Aren¡¯t these Ol¡¯ Man Walkins¡¯s kids? What are you doing with them?¡±


    ¡°The same thing I did with you, Tanner. I¡¯m getting them away from that crazy bastard.¡± He laughed and slapped Watchman Tanner on the shoulder. ¡°Victor here taught Walkins a lesson tonight that I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll soon be forgetting, and now I¡¯ll be playing matchmaker for orphans again.¡±


    Tanner looked at Nim with a measure of respect and saluted. ¡°I don¡¯t want to keep you from your business, then. It¡¯s cold, and those kids need a decent night¡¯s sleep. You have a long walk ahead of you; don¡¯t let me hold you up. I¡¯ve got patrols to keep, anyway.¡± The two men clasped arms again, and Tanner started back down the street, patrolling the Docks District. Nim took the group home, got everyone a bath and a bed, and went to work trying to figure out where to put them all.


    ¡°Walkins has failed. The boy Victor is now in the care of a performer.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Temendri, he is in the care of Nim Mithriannil. This could work out better than expected. You are young, and you take too much to heart. Nim is as much of a scoundrel as Walkins could ever be. He just lets his conscience guide him more than Walkins ever would. He has much more hatred than the common man, and he can teach the boy even more than Walkins was going to. There is still time to shape the boy into a weapon.¡±


    ¡°But Yandarian¡­ our master said that he has waited long for this, that we should take care not to mess this up. I would not want to fail him.¡± Temendri looked around nervously as if their master were listening in right now, which might be truer than the man knew.


    ¡°You are right,¡± Yandarian said, nodding his head.


    ¡°What will we do now, then?¡± He was being cautious, and rightfully so. Yandarian was not one to make angry, yet he was much more lenient than their master.


    ¡°I am already in the process of making our next plan. I have sent that failure, Walkins, to oversee the slave camps northeast of the great desert. He will fester there, and then he will be broken enough to fulfill the purpose I have for him. Breathe easy, young mage. All is in order.¡±

 Chapter 7: Let the Training Begin

    Year 3043 AGD


    Month: New Life


    Second Sixthday


    Continent of Terroval


    City of Safeharbor


    Cliff¡¯s End


    Nim¡¯s mansion


    Victor was excited. The last of the children would find a place to live today. Nim had spent time with each child, learning what their interests were and where their strengths lay, and he had found them a place to live accordingly. If they wanted to become scholars, he put them into an academy. If they wanted to be artists, he sent them to a school of the arts. Victor was thrilled for his friends, because they would all get an opportunity to succeed. He was even more elated for himself; soon he would start his real training with Nim. Ashur had already pulled Shawnrik aside and started to teach him how to use all of the weapons he knew, which seemed to be just about all of them.


    It was spring, and the birds had all returned from wherever it was they went during the winter months. Flowers were beginning to sprout everywhere throughout the city instead of in just those few places that could afford to have the plants magically tended. It was the time of year that brought the city new life. Victor was fairly positive that was the reason for the month¡¯s name, though Nim had said something about birth rates when asked. Sometimes it was so hard to get a straight answer out of the man.


    There was an excited buzz on the streets of Safeharbor as information slowly trickled in about the happenings that had been missed in the other civilized parts of the world during the winter. Some news was bound to come in from one source or another during the winter, usually from the lands of the Protectorate, but now the ships had begun coming into harbor more frequently, bringing news from the entire world. Yet more tidings would be shared when the caravans began to arrive from the various communities on the continent.


    Victor moved away from the window of his room, peeled off his nightclothes, and walked into the adjoining room for a bath. After drying off, he put on his street clothes and went downstairs to start the day. Victor found Shawnrik admiring the lion statue in the mansion¡¯s entryway and greeted him warmly.


    ¡°Want to go into the city today?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Oh, I can¡¯t,¡± Shawn said, rubbing his arm subconsciously. ¡°I¡¯ve got more practice with Ashur today, and I¡¯m gonna need all my strength.¡±


    ¡°Well, at least he is training you. I¡¯ve had to occupy myself mostly with books from the library these last few months. There are a lot of really good books in there, by the way. Nim hasn¡¯t started teaching me much yet. He¡¯s been too busy finding homes for everyone¡ªnot that I¡¯m ungrateful for that, but he could spare five minutes to teach me something more than once an eightday.¡±


    ¡°Maybe he¡¯s tryin¡¯ to teach ya patience?¡± Shawnrik said with a laugh. ¡°Cypheria knows you could use more of that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m patient. I just don¡¯t like to wait around.¡± Victor smiled back at his friend. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s almost springtime. I feel so cooped up in here.¡±


    ¡°Good, then you won¡¯t mind coming with me to the south gate to start this year¡¯s negotiations on the prices of various items,¡± a voice emanating from directly behind them stated, causing both boys to jump.


    Victor pulled his dagger, and Shawnrik assumed a fighting stance with his fists balled. When you lived in the Docks District, you learned not to let people get behind you.


    Nim assumed a casual stance as if he wasn¡¯t being threatened with violence by two children. ¡°Good reaction time,¡± he mumbled.


    ¡°Price negotiations?¡± Victor asked, ignoring the quiet compliment and sheathing his dagger; then he added, voice somber, ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re going to do?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It will teach you something about diplomacy. This will mark the beginning of what I will teach you this year. It¡¯s not so much about being able to get the right price as it is about being able to read a person. I know you are naturally good at that, but I can teach you the subtler nature of business.¡±


    Victor looked at Shawnrik, and both rolled their eyes.


    ¡°Don¡¯t roll your eyes at me. Being able to read a person is an extraordinarily valuable skill in life. I¡¯m going to teach you etiquette, proper grammar, which you are already rather well-versed in, and all of the other more sophisticated arts that one must know to converse with merchants and nobility.¡±


    Victor looked at him, dumbstruck. ¡°Me? Converse with nobility? I think you hit your head when you woke up this morning.¡± Shawnrik laughed, but Nim didn¡¯t.


    ¡°I¡¯m quite serious. I¡¯m going to prepare you for the grand adventure that awaits you in life, and I¡¯m going to do that by teaching you the finer points first,¡± he said. ¡°Then, we can move on to the livelier part. That should give you some incentive to learn quickly,¡± he added with a smile. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get some breakfast.¡±


    As they walked down the hall, Shawnrik asked, ¡°Do lions really exist?¡±


    ¡°Do lions exist? That¡¯s like asking if orcs are real. Of course they exist, they are just as real as dragons. Just because you haven¡¯t seen something before doesn¡¯t mean that it doesn¡¯t exist. Can you see the air? No, but we know it¡¯s there because we breathe it. We can feel it on our faces when there is a breeze.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I get the point. It was just a question,¡± Shawnrik sounded sorry that he had asked.


    ¡°I can see the air¡­¡± Victor mumbled to himself.


    ¡°No, don¡¯t be sorry for asking. I may be a little abrupt sometimes, but there is little I hate more than ignorance. If you have questions, just ask me,¡± Nim replied, missing Victor¡¯s response.


    ¡°Okay. How old are you?¡± Victor asked.


    ¡°Thirty-six,¡± Nim quickly responded.


    ¡°How old is Ashur?¡± Shawnrik asked.


    ¡°Thirty-four.¡±


    ¡°How come you¡¯re not married?¡± Victor¡¯s eyebrow rose as he asked.


    ¡°Because I¡­ next question,¡± he said, looking over at the boy cautiously. He had a feeling what was coming next.


    ¡°Who¡¯s Erin?¡± Victor asked.


    Nim sighed when his feeling became reality. ¡°She¡¯s a mage of incredible power¡­ and the love of my life.¡±


    ¡°Why did she leave?¡± Shawnrik didn¡¯t mean to ask that one aloud, but it had slipped out anyway.


    ¡°She said I was settling down too early. I tried to tell her that there was plenty of excitement in Safeharbor, but she was young and wanted to see the world.¡± His stare became a bit vacant as he talked about Erin, as if he could see her outside the giant window.


    ¡°How old is she?¡± Victor said, adopting a softer tone.


    ¡°She will be twenty-five soon.¡± He opened the door to the dining hall and let the boys walk in.


    ¡°What does she look like?¡± Victor asked, glad he was finally getting Nim to open up.


    ¡°What does who look like?¡± Ashur questioned from inside the dining hall.


    ¡°Erin,¡± Shawnrik replied.


    ¡°Oh, Erin¡­ now there is a lass. She has the greenest eyes that you have ever seen and hair the color of an evening sunset. Like the skyline at dusk was set on fire just to complement it. She was shapely even when we first met her at thirteen¡ªpowerful even then. Nim somehow convinced her dad to let her come with us on a quest to find who knows what. She traveled with us for a few years, and then she became a woman right before our eyes. Long story short, one day I found her cornering Nim, telling him that if he didn¡¯t kiss her right there that she would be gone in the morning. I¡¯ve never met two people who loved each other more¡­ or who were each so set on having their way.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t we going a little deep into the question, Ashur?¡± Nim asked dryly.


    ¡°No, not really,¡± he shot back with a smile. Between mouthfuls, Ashur continued talking about their adventures straight through breakfast, everyone at the table listening intently. His tone turned sad as he reached the end of the story. ¡°Then, a few years ago, Nim told us that he had acquired enough money and property to suit his taste. Said he was gonna make a life for himself in Safeharbor. Erin was only twenty-two at the time, and she said that she wasn¡¯t finished exploring and learning yet.¡± He looked at Victor. ¡°She¡¯s got a head like yours on her shoulders. Anyway, she left. And Nim went through this phase for almost a year where he just did sculptures and paintings, until one day I told him that if he didn¡¯t do something else, I was gonna leave, too.


    ¡°He told me he had one more painting to do¡ªjust one more, he promised, and then he would pull out of his slump. He said that he felt he had to do the painting.¡± Ashur pointed to the large mural portraying the armies of light and darkness. ¡°True to his word, it was the last one he did. Took him a few eightdays, but I¡¯d say it was worth the year of sulking. So, now Nim and I get our jollies from scaring merchants and hunting whatever baddy comes into the caverns below.¡±


    The boys took a deep breath with Ashur as he finished telling the story. Nim sat in his chair, staring off into the nearly cloudless sky outside.


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s a story, alright. You should write that down in a book,¡± Victor said enthusiastically.


    Nim looked over at him and said, ¡°It¡¯s not all it¡¯s cracked up to be. I never know if she is alive. Once in a while, I¡¯ll get a message of one sort or another from her. Once, she popped in for the evening and then was gone the next morning. No, love and adventure are two things that should never mix.¡±


    There was silence in the room for quite a few minutes.


    ¡°Well, I think we¡¯ve all sat around reminiscing enough today. Shawnrik, go put on your training gear and meet me out back. We¡¯ll see you two later,¡± Ashur said, nodding good day to Victor and Nim as he stood.


    ¡°Yes, we have work to do, too. We will see you later. Don¡¯t be too hard on the boy, Ashur,¡± Nim said with a grin.


    ¡°No harder than he can take, I assure you. And don¡¯t bore Victor too much out there.¡± He winked at Victor.


    Shortly thereafter, Nim and Victor left for the market to discuss prices, mingle with traders, and see what information could be garnered.


    Year 3043 AGD


    Month: Preparation


    Third Day


    Continent of Terroval


    City of Safeharbor


    Cliff¡¯s End


    Nim¡¯s mansion


    During the last two months, Nim had continued to train Victor in the many arts of diplomacy. Meanwhile, Shawnrik was learning how to use the art of intimidation¡ªaggressive negotiation, as Ashur liked to call it. Ashur told Nim that he was pleased with how fast Shawnrik absorbed what he was taught, with how capable the boy was becoming. Ashur had managed to teach him the proper use of just about every weapon in his arsenal. It was staggering, the number of times during those first two months that Victor had heard Ashur saying that the boy had improved. The people of Safeharbor and much of the rest of the continent of Terroval were exceptionally gifted when it came to fighting and learning. Then there were men like Ashur, who seemed to be born to it. Shawnrik, however, was not only gifted at fighting; he was driven by a desire to improve that stunned the men. Shawnrik was still nowhere near capable enough to go out saving the world, in Ashur¡¯s opinion, but Victor knew that he would be soon.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Summer was quickly approaching, and the city was moving at full speed like an anthill that had been kicked. The month of Preparation was so named because it was the time of year in which the countries of the world prepared for the battles that summer would bring. The previous month, Time of Storms¡ªsimply referred to as Storms by most¡ªwas usually a chaotic month for traveling. Storms, it was said, was when the goddess Terra, looking out over the world as Valorious brings life to the flowers and the fields, begins to tire of her time with Arroval and begins to quarrel with him something fierce. It comes to the point at which their passion is so intense that the world is filled with storms until, finally, she can bear it no longer and runs back to the arms of her other lover, who heals the yearning within her. From the books Victor had read, he was pretty sure that the gods just made sure things were running correctly and didn¡¯t really affect the world to that level, but it was a good story nonetheless.


    Perhaps the greatest thing to happen, in the boys¡¯ opinions, was that Nim and Ashur had taken them along on their last few trips below the city. They loved feeling like they were helping the city as they hunted down the nefarious creatures living below. It had surprised the boys to learn that there were so many different types of creatures down there, and that only a handful of them ever became a problem.


    Nim sat on the roof of his estate, watching the people pass by and talking to Victor about leaders of foreign lands and other dignitaries or notables, as he called them. Victor was supposed to memorize the names and descriptions of entire families, the idea being that he should be able to supply a name to the brief descriptions that Nim would give.


    Victor had gone through most of the lessons at an alarming speed. He had devoted all of his time to learning what Nim was teaching him so that he might move on to the next phase of his lessons. He¡¯d sat through meetings with merchants, listening to them complain about the muddy roads of spring and other trivial matters. (Nim said that they complained about the muddy roads every year, but it didn¡¯t stop them from coming up earlier than others just to get a better price for their goods.) He had gone to what Nim called minor noble parties and had gotten his cheeks squeezed more times than he would like to admit.


    There were many things that could be learned at such parties, and not many people took notice of an eight-year-old boy nosing around unless they were the type who paid particular attention to such things. Victor had noticed that almost all of these nobles were too busy watching each other to be aware of the fact that he even existed. He had met several merchants¡¯ daughters who were around his same age. Each time, he had heard comments about how great of a couple they would make in a few years. Victor had to fight for control of his natural reflexes during a particularly enthusiastic discussion of such matters so that he didn¡¯t roll his eyes.


    Nim introduced Victor as his son, and it was true that he had adopted him in a way; however, Victor knew that Nim was simply using him at these events for his own purposes, so he derived little pleasure from them even though he was learning things. He would inform Nim about what merchants had been discussing, and Nim would use the information against them later. After a while, people started to catch on and wouldn¡¯t talk about much in front of Victor, which he didn¡¯t mind at all. At that point, Nim started having Victor talk to the children of whomever he might want to find information about. This method actually gleaned a lot more than Victor had thought it would. Of course, a large portion of what he learned in these conversations was utterly useless to Nim¡¯s plans, but it was still quite interesting. Over time, people did start to take more notice of Victor, and some of the talk at the parties started turning in his direction. Shortly thereafter, Nim had decided that they were not going to anymore minor parties.


    Ashur and Shawnrik came up to the roof and stood at the edge, watching all of the movement down below for a while before Ashur turned to Nim.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking Shawnrik out adventuring.¡±


    ¡°The itch has finally taken hold, has it, Ashur?¡± Nim said with a slight chuckle that somehow turned somber. ¡°I knew this would be coming.¡±


    Ashur laughed and leaned on the railing of the roof. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve been itching to go for a few years now, but that¡¯s not why I¡¯m going. I¡¯ve taught Shawnrik just about all I can without him seeing more action. These regular forays into the caverns just aren¡¯t cutting it. He needs to be deep in the thick of it to really learn. I figure we¡¯ll head north and probably be gone for at least a year.¡±


    Shawnrik had been looking at the ground but now looked at Victor sadly. ¡°A year, Vic¡­ you gonna be alright for a year?¡±


    Victor had been learning how to read people for the last few months, and Shawnrik was coming in loud and clear. He wanted to go, but he wanted his friend¡¯s approval. ¡°Shawn, I think it¡¯s a great idea. Nim and I are just going to dinner parties and boring things like that anyway¡ªnothing dangerous that we would need you or Ashur here to guard our backs for. Isn¡¯t that right, Nim?¡±


    Nim looked at him and smiled. ¡°That¡¯s right, Shawnrik. There is nothing for you to learn being cramped in this dusty, old mansion.¡± He motioned with a sweep of his arm. ¡°Out there is where the real adventure lies. We will be just fine without you two for a year. We¡¯ll be as careful as a couple of druids with seedlings.¡±


    Ashur gave them a look that said he knew what they were up to. Shawnrik, however, had been growing more and more excited as they talked, barely standing still when Ashur asked, ¡°So, it¡¯s ok if we go, then?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but you must hire a cleric. I¡¯ve been adventuring with you a long time, and I remember occasionally having to heal you a half dozen times a day. You should see if Dunnagan Stormhammer is still in town.¡± He tossed Ashur a key. ¡°Just take some money out of the vault. If Dunnagan is in town, you probably won¡¯t have to pay him much, but if he¡¯s not, then you¡¯ll have to pay quite a bit.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Dunnagan?¡± Victor and Shawnrik asked almost simultaneously.


    Ashur looked at them. ¡°He¡¯s a dwarf. I think you¡¯d both like him. He¡¯s a cleric of Cypheria. There¡¯s nothing he loves more than cutting through a horde of Siniquitan minions to help someone out. He takes his companions¡¯ safety very seriously, but we have to dive into the fray to get him out half of the time because he doesn¡¯t consider his own safety quite as much.¡± The men laughed at the inside joke. ¡°Oh, I hope that old hardhead is still around.¡±


    ¡°As do I. There isn¡¯t anyone whom I would trust more to keep you two alive.¡± Victor knew that Nim was being completely honest and found himself with an already great respect for this Dunnagan without even having met him.


    ¡°Well, then, as our friend Dunnagan would say¡­ I go!¡± Ashur pulled Shawnrik along with him. Victor and Shawn waved their goodbyes until the older boy disappeared down the steps. Victor took a deep breath.


    ¡°That was superbly done, Victor,¡± Nim stated, re-evaluating his opinion of his apprentice. ¡°I think we might be ready to move onto other things. I¡¯ve been waiting for that lug to figure out he was going to take Shawnrik out adventuring. We can¡¯t have two meat shields around making a lot of noise when there is business to be done.¡± He smiled wickedly, the look somehow filling a gap in the man¡¯s features that Victor hadn¡¯t known to be missing. ¡°It¡¯s time you learn the darker secrets of our art,¡± Nim went on. ¡°I think we need a little change of scenery. I¡¯ve heard a few rumors about some nasty people who we need to have a talk with.¡±


    Victor didn¡¯t know what to think. He was excited that he would finally be learning the other side of Nim¡¯s teachings, but he was suddenly wary about what exactly that would entail.


    City of Safeharbor


    Near the South Gate


    The Drunken Gnome


    Ashur didn¡¯t have to look long to find Dunnagan Stormhammer. He wasn¡¯t a hard dwarf to find if you knew where to look. First, they checked the Temple of Cypheria in the Hall of the One God. They found out that he had been there recently, but nobody had seen him for several days. Next, they went to the South Ward to the Caravan City and found The Drunken Gnome, a dwarven-run establishment that served the southern sector. There was a sign out front depicting a dwarf tipping up an empty keg of ale and a gnome passed out in front of a small glass that was still half full. They found Dunnagan at the bar, telling stories about past exploits to whomever would listen.


    ¡°Aye, that¡¯s how it happened. Me buddy Ashur was wadin¡¯ through them orcs like he was siftin¡¯ sand. Then, this big ugly son of an ogre came out of the cave and started yellin¡¯ all kinds of profanities at the man. I stood up on a rock and started callin¡¯ his mother all sorts of foul things, and then I gave him a good look at me backside. Well, to say the least, this made the overly large orc a bit mad, and he came barrelin¡¯ down the hill, knockin¡¯ over his own kind just to get at me. Unfortunately for him, there was another in the crowd waitin¡¯ for the brute. Before he knew it, Nim was underfoot, slashin¡¯ the backs of the beast¡¯s heels. There were dead orcs pilin¡¯ up and more orcs than you could count still comin¡¯ out of the cave. I watched Nim put his dagger in the big one¡¯s eye and then get swarmed over by a dozen orcs, so I wade into the battle tryin¡¯ to reach Nim¡­¡±


    ¡°And he gets to where Nim was and finds that he has already made it back to the rock that Dunnagan had been on only moments before,¡± Ashur finished for him. Dunnagan turned around to see him, and they clasped arms.


    ¡°Ashur, me friend! It¡¯s good to see ya, lad,¡± Dunnagan said cheerily.


    ¡°Then what happened?¡± an old dwarf nearby asked, eyeing Ashur carefully and then giving him a nod of respect.


    ¡°Well, Dunnagan let out a whoop of excitement and started to tear into the orcs, cutting down more than his fair share. He and I wound up fighting back to back. We fought for so long that, eventually, we were standing with our backs to a pile of dead orcs, and we had to take turns resting. Dunnagan was casting spells to ward off fatigue and to heal the little scrapes we were getting¡ª¡±


    ¡°Little scrapes! Bah! You put so much of yer own blood into the ground that I thought the plants were going to grow carnivorous!¡± Dunnagan barked, slapping Ashur¡¯s back. ¡°And if not for all the orc blood taintin¡¯ everything, they might have!¡± Everyone within earshot laughed.


    ¡°Anyway, Nim had been standing up on the pile behind us, killing anything that came from that direction. It was evening now, and there was hardly any light. Dunnagan and I were weary, spells or no. Suddenly, we hear Nim say with finality, ¡®Oh, I tire of this!¡¯ Next thing we know, the world lights up around us like the sun has just come out. As if that wasn¡¯t enough to scare the orcs back into their hole, Nim lets out a shout that deafens me, Dunnagan, and every orc within thirty feet. Hurt a hell of a lot, too. Most of the orcs were running about, but there were a few that were standing back a ways. Nim starts to sing this haunting melody, and a lot of the orcs left milling about start attacking each other. Those that weren¡¯t killing each other must have figured they were fighting some sort of powerful spirit and ran off with the rest of their friends.¡± Ashur took a swig of the ale that Dunnagan handed him.


    ¡°Well, why didn¡¯t he do something like that earlier?¡± the old dwarf asked.


    ¡°You know, we asked him that same question,¡± Dunnagan said, ¡°and he looked us in the eye and said, ¡®It¡¯s all about timing, gentlemen.¡¯ That¡¯s all he said. ¡®Course, you have to understand that Nim¡¯s a bard by trade. A showman. To him, the whole world is a stage.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ and you can never quite tell what¡¯s going on in that head of his,¡± Ashur said jovially.


    ¡°Aye, and now it¡¯s time for me to be seein¡¯ to what it is you hunted me down for,¡± Dunnagan said to Ashur, and the other people around the table took the hint and began to go their separate ways. The dwarf led them to an empty table in the back before he noticed Shawnrik tailing them. ¡°Well I¡¯ll be a bearded gnome. Ashur, you got a young giant followin¡¯ ya there.¡±


    Ashur smiled. ¡°He¡¯s the reason I¡¯m here. I¡¯m gonna take him out and teach him what it¡¯s like out there. He¡¯s not a giant, but he fights like one.¡± Shawnrik puffed up at this remark.


    ¡°Aye, maybe not a giant, but I¡¯ll have a theological conversation with a gnome if he doesn¡¯t have some of their blood in him. You got some giant blood in yer lineage, boy? Ya know, there¡¯s been quite a bit of interbreeding between yer two races over the years. The civilized ones, at least¡ªnot thems from across the barrier, mind you. I¡¯ll deny it if you ever tell any of my kin I said it, but ¡®tis a shame that more of them can¡¯t abide the rest of us, ¡®cause some of them are mighty fine craftsman, even if they are all daft.¡± He had taken on lecturing tone that Shawnrik thought fit the dwarf quite well.


    ¡°Well, I dunno if I got any giants in my family tree, but from what the lady who raised me ¡®fore Walkins took me in said, my father was a Stroml¡¯dier mercenary from up north.¡±


    ¡°How come you never told me any of this?¡± Ashur said, looking at the boy in a new light. ¡°Stroml¡¯dier in your blood would explain a lot!¡± He slapped the boy on the back and motioned for him to take a seat.


    Shawnrik shrugged as he sat down. ¡°I dunno. You never asked.¡±


    ¡°Ya know, the Stroml¡¯dier are descendants of an alliance between giants from the Storm and Cloud clans and a clan of human men who went north to defend the barrier hills. Their name used to be Storm Soldiers, but somewhere along the line, it got twisted into Stroml¡¯dier,¡± Dunnagan stated in a matter-of-fact tone.


    The boy looked from the dwarf to Ashur. When his mentor nodded, Shawnrik nearly burst. ¡°The Stroml¡¯dier are descended from giants? I¡­¡± He went quiet as the implications of this new development sunk in.


    Dunnagan started to laugh. ¡°I like the boy already, Ashur. He reminds me a lot of you, exceptin¡¯ that I think he¡¯s going to be a lot bigger than you in a few years, eh?¡±


    ¡°And he¡¯ll be better than me a few years after that if I have anything to say about it.¡± Ashur looked at Shawnrik proudly. ¡°He¡¯s going to have to keep up with someone even worse than Nim, I¡¯m thinking.¡± He looked at Dunnagan to see if the dwarf had caught his meaning and could tell that he had.


    ¡°Worse than Nim, eh? That¡¯s a tall order, boy. So, Nim¡¯s got himself an apprentice, and you¡¯ve got one, too?¡± He took a drink of ale and sat still for a moment, looking at Shawnrik over the rim of his mug. Finally, he nodded. ¡°Aye, I¡¯ll go with ya. Not just ¡®cause it¡¯s you askin¡¯, neither. I want to meet this boy that¡¯s more dangerous than Nim, and I want to see what we can do with this lad here. I can see a fire burnin¡¯ in his belly, and I like it!¡±


    ¡°By the way, isn¡¯t there something against drinking when you¡¯re a cleric?¡± Ashur asked with a wink.


    ¡°Bah, Cypheria wouldn¡¯t deny a dwarf a drink between jobs. She¡¯s not a cruel mistress. I s¡¯pose it is time to start the next job, though.¡± He downed the ale and slammed the mug onto the table. ¡°No drinkin¡¯ ¡®til we¡¯re clear of danger!¡± He looked down at his empty mug and said a short prayer. ¡°Cypheria, protect those of us that now venture forth to rid the world of vileness.¡±


    They stood, and Ashur dropped a few coins on the table before they went outside to get their mounts and head off on their journey.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back. I have to get Thunder from the stables.¡± Dunnagan started off towards the stables next to the inn.


    ¡°That old goat is still alive?¡± Ashur called after him.


    ¡°Nay, lad. This is Thunder¡¯s son, Thunder Junior. He¡¯s bigger and ornerier than Thunder ever was.¡± He disappeared around the corner.


    ¡°Great,¡± Ashur mumbled.


    ¡°What?¡± Shawnrik asked.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡± Ashur got onto his mount and Shawnrik followed suit.


    Several minutes later, Dunnagan came riding out on the biggest ram that Shawnrik had ever seen. He wondered how it kept its head up with the massive horns that curled on top of it. Its wool was a grey that reminded him of a storm cloud. That must be why he¡¯s called Thunder, Shawnrik thought.


    He was wrong. Dunnagan put the ram into a canter to meet up with Ashur and Shawnrik, and the noise that arose from Thunder¡¯s hooves made it apparent where his name had come from. Everyone within a block stopped to watch him canter over to the two horses.


    When Dunnagan reined back a bit to bring Thunder to a walk, the noise abated, and most people went back to what they had been doing. Still, Shawnrik couldn¡¯t help but gape at the massive beast. It was a full three hands taller than the horse he was riding, making it not a small animal by any measure, but the dwarf on its back made it look that much larger. Shawnrik was a head taller than Dunnagan but seeing the dwarf on Thunder¡¯s back made him suddenly feel much smaller. Everything about Thunder said power, and he wasn¡¯t so sure that any less could be said about Dunnagan himself.


    ¡°We ready to go?¡± the dwarf asked from atop his mount.


    ¡°We have to make a stop for some essentials, but then we¡¯re off,¡± Ashur said, shaking his head at Dunnagan and Thunder.


    ¡°Good. I need to get some more jerked beef and some feed for Thunder.¡±


    Shawnrik listened to the two talk and didn¡¯t say a thing. He was in awe of both of the men who would be training him to survive, and he didn¡¯t want to miss a thing that either of them had to say.

 Chapter 8: New Horizons

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    ¡°His power will be an influence on the lives of many. Are we to take that to mean that his deeds and special abilities are going to influence the lives of many, or that he actually has a power to influence the events and actions in the lives of many?¡±


    That¡¯s the mind I know and have grown to respect. I only wish that this new line of thought could keep you distracted long enough for this ordeal to be over. Maybe you will find something in there that the few of us who have made those tomes our lives¡¯ work couldn¡¯t. Randoleon moved away from the table and went to go observe the events that were transpiring elsewhere. He hated being so far removed from the world, but he knew it was best for now. At least, he hoped it was best for now.

 Chapter 9: A different Direction

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    ¡°How am I supposed to recognize anyone?¡± As he started looking around however, he realized that the descriptions he had been memorizing for the last few months were coming alive before him. He looked at Nim and nodded.


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 Chapter 10: Royal Engagement

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 Chapter 11: Revelations

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    ¡°talents laudable,¡± the queen said, smiling.


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    ¡°Thank you.


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    ¡°Well, that¡¯s really the short of it. Grudgingly, Victor conceded to his wiser inner voice.


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    I have no idea what she¡¯s talking about. ¡°Mother, I can think of no other place I would rather be.¡±


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    I¡¯m watching you. These smiles seemed genuine and personal. It all felt... wrong.


    What would it be like to know most of the people that lived around you? Shawnrik mused. He realized that these people relied on each other daily just to survive. The constant struggle against the inhabitants of this dangerous land had left little room for individuals that lived only for themselves. The walls around the city stood fifteen feet high. A few feet shorter, and the grim¡¯le that roamed the area might be able to jump on top of it; Ashur had explained this to him as they entered the city earlier that day. Shawnrik had not seen any of the large two-legged reptiles on their journey north, and he was okay with that after hearing some of the stories from his traveling companions about their encounters with the creatures. The grim¡¯le were only one of the many dangerous creatures that lived in the area and threatened the village on a daily basis.


    Beauty and strength wrapped up in one deadly package. His heart almost stopped beating when the girl he had been admiring winked at him.


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    ¡°we stand.¡±


    And the most profound idea that I¡¯m ever likely to hear, he thought solicitously.


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 Chapter 12: Unwelcome Guests

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    Four men for me and four for Victor? Someone wants us dead badly. Why send four for the boy, though? Nim wasn¡¯t given time to dwell on these thoughts before three assassins began to carefully move towards him. The fourth fell over, no longer able to use his legs after whatever neurotoxin that coated the blade quickly worked its way through his system. If the assassins had come straight for him, they might have taken him out, but their cautious approach gave Bartholomew and Jenn time to enter the fight.


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    Earlier, on the roof.


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    Maybe I¡¯m dreaming. Hmm¡­ I wonder where I am.


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    ¡°I know that voice. Victor tried hard to bring up an image, but his mind was not cooperating; it was as if his thoughts were covered in a heavy fog.


    ¡°That must be Jenn, a small part of his mind whispered, still unable to put a face to the name.


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    They¡¯re back! His mind cried out, and he tried to move, tried to open his eyes, but found himself unable to do either. I won¡¯t let you kill me! he screamed inside his head, finally getting a response from his body, even if it was just to thrash violently in his bed.


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 Chapter 13: Saying Goodbye

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    ¡°aware sometime in the night. I heard you and an old man talking. I heard you tell Jenn to go be with Lia after he said Megan probably wasn¡¯t going to make it.¡± He felt his eyes getting heavier as moisture enveloped them.


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    ¡°question our guest. He will learn what we need to know. I had to take away every means of suicide that assassin had, and he was carrying more than a few nasty surprises. He won¡¯t get the satisfaction of a quick death. As soon as Megan dies¡­ his life is forfeit.¡± Nim¡¯s voice was cold.


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    ¡°stroll? I think it¡¯s going to be a rather dark night.¡±


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 Chapter 14: The Hunt Begins

    Year 3043 AGD


    Month: Ragn¨®s


    Firstday


    Continent of Terroval


    Southwest of the City of Stalwart


    ¡°What did I do now?¡±


    ¡°Oh laddie, you¡¯re the one who got us into this mess.¡±


    Shawnrik mumbled to himself, ¡°She was a pretty girl.¡±


    ¡°They always are, lad, they always are,¡± Ashur laughed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see what¡¯s so funny. There¡¯s over a hundred blood orcs in that camp and the boy is still wet behind the ears.¡± Dunnagan popped his head over the natural rock wall to look at the scene below. ¡°Ahh, and a few giants it seems.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Ashur asked, looking over the edge. ¡°Damn, they must have been hiding in the caves to the east¡­ I wonder what else we are going to find.¡± Both of the men looked at Shawnrik.


    ¡°Well, we can¡¯t just let ¡®em die, can we? I may have distracted the caravan by going for a walk with her, but it¡¯s their own fault they dropped their guard enough to be captured. They could have been slaughtered instead. Besides, there probably isn¡¯t another person within a week¡¯s journey, so we are the only ones they have.¡±


    ¡°Aye laddie, you probably did save most of their lives by letting them be caught a few at a time. I just wonder how long they have.¡± Dunnagan was making a quick count of the scene below. ¡°I make out about a hundred and twelve, give or take a few, and at least two giants. We¡¯re going to have to start with their patrols. That should be able to whittle ¡®em down by twenty or thirty before they realize something¡¯s out here. If we can make it seem like a pack of grim¡¯le, we might be able to draw the lot of ¡®em out to hunt the pack down. Orcs like the taste of ¡®em, and they¡¯ll be plenty riled up about so many of their numbers dying.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of hoping in there, my friend.¡± Ashur looked excited, but his voice held a hint of caution. ¡°It¡¯s not usual for this many orcs to be together outside of the Shattered Hills, especially together like this.¡±


    ¡°Ya think they have someone guiding ¡®em? I¡¯ve seen a few o¡¯ the more intelligent blood orcs, but they were smart enough to not try to lead their brethren. Maybe it¡¯s one of those fire giants. Worse yet, it could be a grey elf.¡±


    ¡°My friend, you think of better and better possibilities,¡± Ashur said dryly. ¡°Well whatever the case, they are down there, they have captured citizens of the Protectorate, and we are the only ones around to do anything about it. This is the kind of training we were looking for, albeit on a larger scale than what we were hoping for. The boy has filled out well since New Beginnings when I first saw him. I¡¯d say he¡¯s at least fourteen now, which is about the age I was when Nim started taking me on these kinds of trips. From what I¡¯m told, Nim was about the same age when he¡­¡± Ashur noticed his companions eyeing him. ¡°Well anyway, looks like a patrol is leaving¡ªlet¡¯s get to work.¡±


    They took the same trail back down the hill that they had used going up. Their horses were keeping themselves busy with the few patches of grass near the tree that Shawnrik and Ashur had tied them to. Thunder was busy chomping his way through a tree, stripping it of its bark. This was not the tree he had been left at, either¡ªhe had chewed his way through his reins in order to get to his current meal.


    ¡°Ah¡­ it¡¯s a good thing that beast is smart enough to know where to go when I tell ¡®em.¡± Dunnagan said, making them chuckle quietly. Ashur and Shawnrik pulled the bows from their saddles and strapped on a quiver of arrows. Dunnagan went to the pack horse and brought out several throwing axes, sliding the handles through loops of his belt. Grabbing another axe, he tossed it to Shawnrik. ¡°Ya never know when you¡¯re gonna need somethin¡¯ that will be a little more helpful at close range. Them bows you boys got will punch a hole through armor at a hundred paces, but if for some reason you don¡¯t have your bow or you run out of arrows, that axe¡¯ll be good for cleaving a skull or twenty.¡±


    As he was strapping his leather armor on, Shawnrik noticed that his clothes were getting a little tight around his shoulders and seemed to ride higher on his waist than they had only a month before. He figured he was around fourteen by his and Ashur¡¯s estimation, but he was already gaining height and weight at a good speed. In the past month alone, he had grown three inches and put on another twenty pounds. Dunnagan and Ashur had made him run half the time they were traveling. Occasionally, Ashur would run with him, but most of the time they rode while he ran.


    He understood that they were trying to make him strong enough for whatever needed to be done. He wanted them to do so, so he never complained¡ª at least not aloud. At night, they would take turns instructing him on the use of daggers, swords, maces, axes, and bows. Whenever they stopped next to a stream bed for the night, they would have him find or dig up large stones in order to stem the water so they would have a place to clean up in the morning. When they were done cleaning up he would move the rocks and let the water run normally again. They had both taught him muscle building and limbering exercises, and he had used each method separately until they were comfortable and then began to meld them all into one long exercise. Ashur and Dunnagan had both seen him work through his new method, and both had simply nodded before going back to whatever it was they had been doing as they prepared to leave for the day.


    Shawnrik wrestled regularly with both men as they taught him how to grapple. In the last few matches, he managed to best Ashur¡ªone of the strongest men he had ever met. Dunnagan was a bit more challenging because his center of gravity was so low. More than once, he felt like he might as well be trying to move a boulder. The dwarf¡¯s strength was nothing to take lightly, either. Once, he had seen Dunnagan performing a prayer before the fight. Having seen Dunnagan pray several times a day since they had begun their journey, he had thought nothing of it. When they grappled, however, the dwarf picked him up like a sack of oats and tossed him fifteen feet. When Shawnrik asked how he had done it, Dunnagan laughed.


    ¡°It¡¯s all in the wrist,¡± he had said, a twinkle in his eye. Shawnrik made it apparent that he didn¡¯t believe that for a second and Dunnagan relented. ¡°Oh laddie, it¡¯s all part of being a cleric. It¡¯s not all healin¡¯ and sayin¡¯ prayers. Cypheria knows that every once in a while, you¡¯ll need a boost, or to need call down holy fire to smite your foes. She will aid you just like she knows that you will aid those in need. It will all come to you in time. When you are able to handle something new, you will know it intuitively. She¡¯ll let you know.


    Shawnrik¡¯s life had never been easy. His years on the streets had allowed him to learn quickly in the six months of training he had gone through with Ashur at Nim¡¯s mansion, and that training had allowed him to withstand the grueling training that Dunnagan and Ashur had dreamed up in the past month. He knew that the real training was only just beginning, and he wasn¡¯t quite sure if he should be excited or scared.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go. They should be approaching where we camped last night shortly, and we should be able to get there ahead of them.¡± Ashur started off at a quick pace, moving as swiftly through the trees as he could manage stealthily. Dunnagan and Shawnrik looked at each other, knowing they would not be able to move nearly as fast while making as little noise.


    There was a hill to run down before they neared their camp site. Shawnrik let out a small groan as he looked at the thick brush and low hanging branches. Dunnagan let out a laugh and barreled downhill, his tough skin taking few scratches from the bushes and his short stature allowing him to avoid many of the branches. Nearing the spot Ashur had told them they were heading, they all slowed their pace, trading speed for silence. When they were a hundred paces from the clearing, they were moving like cats stalking their pray¡ªbig, burly cats. Shawnrik remembered how surprised he had been the first time he had seen Dunnagan move quietly through the brush. He asked him if all dwarves knew how to move so silently in trees.


    His mentor replied, ¡°They teach you to move fairly quietly when you are training to be a warden, but if you are going to travel anywhere with Nim Mithriannil, you either learn how to move silently or he leaves you behind. Let¡¯s just say I got tired of being left behind to wait for the first signs of battle. If you have to wait until the enemy notices that man, half the fun is usually over already.¡±


    They only had to wait a couple of minutes before the forward scout of the patrol came into sight. The patrol was made up of ten blood orcs: One scout in front, eight in the core unit, and another scout bringing up the rear. Ashur took up a position at the front of the clearing, signaling for Dunnagan to wait in the trees opposite the stream and for Shawnrik to take up position on the far end of the clearing. Shawnrik watched as the first scout walked out into the clearing, failing to notice the large human hiding in the bushes beside him, or the dwarf lying in wait to the side. Shortly after, the main body of the patrol entered the clearing. The forward scout was about twenty paces away from Shawnrik when the rear scout began to emerge from the bushes behind the core unit.


    Before the rear scout set one foot outside the bushes, however, he vanished without a sound. Shawnrik attempted to replicate Ashur¡¯s work as the forward scout walked into the bushes next to him. He reached out, grabbed the orc, and quickly broke its neck. As he lowered the body to the ground, he realized that he had not been nearly as efficient as his mentor, however. The main body of the party had stopped and were now motioning ahead of them to where the scout had disappeared. Shawnrik unlimbered his bow and nocked an arrow as the largest of the orcs called out ahead to a scout that could no longer answer.


    As the blood orcs began to move forward, weapons ready, he heard Ashur¡¯s whistle. At the sound, the blood orcs looked toward the other end of the clearing. Noticing their rear scout was also not where he should be, they began to get even more agitated. Before they could figure out what they were going to do next, Shawnrik took aim and shot. At the same time, an arrow flew out of the trees on the other side of the clearing where Ashur was hiding. As the first two arrows connected¡ªShawnrik¡¯s finding a throat, Ashur¡¯s finding an eye socket¡ªan axe seemed to materialize from the bushes to the side of the party, cleaving the patrol leader¡¯s skull. The five remaining orcs, finally realizing their predicament, decided to run back in the direction they came. By the time they made it back to the bushes, four of the five orcs were down, and the last was not even able to swing his club before a dagger pierced his heart.


    ¡°Well, that was easy enough,¡± Ashur said with a grin as he cleaned his dagger.


    ¡°Aye, but the one that comes looking for this one will be bigger,¡± Dunnagan said.


    ¡°You¡¯re always spoiling the moment,¡± Ashur gibed as he pulled his arrow from the eye of the first orc he had downed. Shawnrik held back some bile as he went to retrieve his first arrow, which he had to cut out from the orc¡¯s throat. Shawnrik found he was unable to hold the bile in a moment later as Dunnagan, finding his axe firmly stuck in the head of the orc he had killed, decided it was easier to break through the rest of the way rather than try to pry it out.


    Year 3043 AGD


    Month: Ragn¨®s


    Night of the Firstday


    Continent of Terroval


    Safeharbor


    Docks District


    The day he had just gone through seemed unreal, and the night was quickly going by in a blur. Victor knew that only a few minutes ago, they had been sitting in the shadows down the block, making sure they had the layout of the building correct. Yet each moment after stepping out from those shadows seemed to stretch out a great deal, as if time itself was on their side. He knew that the building was probably full of assassins, and he knew that he would probably die if it came down to a one on one fight with any of them. He just didn¡¯t seem to care about any of that at the moment.


    Victor, Nim, and Zander sauntered towards the front of the building as if they belonged there. Every time Victor witnessed Zander performing his Shaping he seemed to learn something new, and this time was no exception. As they approached the doors, Zander seemed to grow larger and his muscles became more pronounced. He was Shaping his own body into a weapon. From what little Victor knew about such uses of Shaping, it took a very thorough understanding of anatomy and an even deeper understanding of one¡¯s own body to perform such a feat. As close as they were together, Victor could feel some of the changes that Zander was making, but he couldn¡¯t understand anything about them at more than a basic level. When Zander walked up and turned the doorknob, one could almost have thought that it had not been locked a moment before. Victor even harbored such a thought before he saw the wrecked remnants of the knob.


    Nim was the first one to slip through the door. It was dark inside, but light could be seen emanating from the cracks of several doorways. Victor heard a swoosh and then a thump, and he knew the sentry in the hall was dead. Sliding quietly into the building, Victor immediately began to Shape the light, creating pockets of shadows for himself to slip between. In just a few moments, all hell would break loose, and he wouldn¡¯t be of any use if he was caught out in the open. Sneaking down the hallway, Victor started up the stairs. He was still surprised that neither Nim nor Zander seemed to have any issue with him coming along. Looking back at the two, he realized that it was because they were all cut from the same cloth. He wouldn¡¯t stay behind even if they had told him to, and they knew that they would not have stayed behind either, if they were in his position.


    Victor¡¯s job was to scout the second floor while Nim and Zander worked their way through the first. From the information Nim and Zander had gathered, they thought that there were over seventy-five trained assassins living in this building at any given time. Three grand assassins, the second-in-command, the grand master¡¯s prot¨¦g¨¦, and the grand master also lived on the premises. It could be more or less at any given time; Victor knew that there were now fifteen less than there had been the night before. At that thought he smiled, but as he realized what it had cost, he began to frown. Pushing such thoughts aside, his face once again became a calm mask; there was time enough for such thoughts later.


    They expected most of the guild to be awake, as a large portion of its business occurred at night. It was more than likely that many of the assassins would be out working, either gathering new contracts or completing old ones. Those that remained would probably be taking their leisure, feeling safe within the walls of their guild. After all, who would dare attack an entire guild of assassins? The few members that had tasks to complete during the day would be asleep, but Victor knew that any of those that slept too soundly would be dead shortly. A brief scuffle broke out in the room to the bottom right of the stairwell, but it ended quickly, and Victor didn¡¯t think anyone had been alerted by the noise.


    Moving through the halls like a ghost, Victor knew that much of his remaining undetected was as much due to his size as it was his skill. He had felt more than a few loose boards that would have creaked in protest had a larger person stepped on them. It appeared that the largest room on the second floor was the one nearest the stairwell. Victor guessed that it was either a room where a lot of men bunked or the quarters for the grand master. Either way, he was not going to go anywhere near it. The next two largest rooms he also left alone, as the ornate doorways marked them as most likely being the other master assassins¡¯ chambers. As Victor neared the end of the hallway, he found a ladder with a hatch at the top of it. Having seen no one wandering around on the second floor, he decided that it was worth his consideration.


    Victor opened his pouch and took out the tools that Nim had given him in order to bypass locks and traps. Probing around the small portal, he found two traps that would trigger from the outside if someone were to attempt entry from above. He disabled those so that they wouldn¡¯t bother him on his way back down. Victor then easily unlocked the locking mechanism¡ªit wasn¡¯t meant to keep people from going out. Lifting the hatch, Victor poked his head slowly through the hole, finding the roof.


    Great, you found the roof. Nim¡¯s going to be really glad to have this information. Hey Nim! I found the roof. Good work, Victor, I knew you had it in you! Victor was cursing to himself as he walked up to a structure that took up a large portion of the center of the roof. Walking all the way around the stout structure, he could see no visible point of entry. Hmm, maybe I shouldn¡¯t be so quick to dismiss this.


    He began a stone-by-stone search, looking for any loose stones, indents, keyholes, or other such mechanisms that might reveal a hidden door. Several minutes passed before he located the indent he had been looking for. Victor probed around the area carefully to make sure there were no surprises waiting for the person who dared to push the button. Not finding anything troublesome, he was just about to push the button when he noticed the slits under his feet. Cursing himself quietly for a fool, Victor stepped back gingerly from the portion of wall he had been inspecting. Taking out his dagger, he probed along the area where the floor met the wall and found the catch for the trap. His first attempt at disabling the device ended horribly, with the trap going off and a needle-thin set of spikes coming out of the floor about six inches. He noticed in the moonlight that the tips were definitely coated with something that he was sure held its own nasty surprises. I wonder if that¡¯s the stuff that got Megan? The thought crossed his mind before he could stop it, and a solitary tear escaped before he could regain control.


    Looking into his toolkit, Victor pulled out a set of pliers that he used for making his own traps, gripping one of the needles before it reset. It was nearly a full minute before the mechanism triggered again and slowly lowered back into the roof. The needle he had gripped came free fairly easily, and he placed it into his match case, point down, for later examination. Taking a deep breath, Victor moved back into position to work on the trap. It took him several tries, but he was able to release the mechanism. After his recent close call, he was not feeling especially lucky, so he decided to use his dagger to press the button.


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    Nim had only been slightly surprised when Zander had offered his assistance that night. They had traveled together for a time in his youth. Nim had been sixteen, ready to take on the world, and Zander had been twenty-seven, trying to prove to the Tetriarch and the arch magus that he was someone worth watching. Zander had definitely proven himself, and Nim had learned quite a few tricks from the man he had chanced upon on the road to Asylum nearly twenty years prior.


    Still, this wasn¡¯t his fight, and it wasn¡¯t in the man¡¯s character to go out of his way¡ªespecially if it meant he might miss the first fight of the war¡ªto help a friend. Nim had to consider the fact that there were probably other reasons for the man¡¯s assistance. Did someone order him to keep an eye on me? Maybe it¡¯s a political favor, but for who? A small voice in his head suggested that maybe the man had liked the girls, and he was here for the same reasons that Nim and Victor were. The cynical part that controlled the rest of his mind quickly threw the idea out. It could be that he just didn¡¯t like having a guild of assassins working under his nose, willing to strike at the manor of one of the king¡¯s advisers. I suppose it doesn¡¯t really matter why he came; I¡¯m just glad he¡¯s here.


    Had anyone seen the two men work their way through the bottom floor of the Guild they might have described the actions of the men as poetry in motion. It was a dark poetry filled with silence, blood, and death, but there were no wasted movements to their actions. The only sounds that intruded upon this silence were the intake of air right before someone was about to call an alarm, the sound of one of Nim¡¯s daggers slicing through the air before taking out the target¡¯s jugular (and usually a second to the heart for good measure), and the last breath escaping from the lips of the dying.


    Nim knew that Zander was most well-known for the amazingly destructive forces that he could Shape together on the battlefield, and for most that would be a reason to respect the man. The knights, however, seemed to respect the man for his combat prowess, preferring to regale their comrades with stories of his many splendid victories with nothing but his bare hands. That¡¯s ignoring the fact that just as much energy was used making his body into a killing machine as would be used in a usually more useful explosion, but that¡¯s a soldier for you. Nim had gone to watch Zander give hand-to-hand lessons to the troops on many a fine afternoon, his pleasure or dissatisfaction only apparent to those who recognize each little tick in his face as a carefully controlled emotion. When not in combat or training, Zander was a fairly agreeable fellow who smiled regularly, but once he became serious, it was very difficult to break his calm demeanor. There were occasional moments during real fights that Nim had seen those rigid features twist into an almost feral grin, and that was usually very bad news for whomever Zander was dealing with at the time. Watching his old companion now however, there was no smile. Here was Zander Halcyon, battlesorcerer of the Protectorate, doing his duty to the crown by snapping the necks of a few ¡°rats¡± that had somehow infested his city, using about as much effort as most men would use to snap a chicken bone.


    There had been more men sleeping than Nim thought there would be. If the guild master had studied Nim at all, he should have expected a measured response. Nim had heard about the leader of this particular guild, not by name, but by an overlap in business and by reputation. He had stolen more than a few contracts from Nim over the years, and he may even have been responsible for several chance meetings with unfriendly fellows. All of this bothered Nim little¡ªhe understood that it was just business¡ªbut this time was different. This time it was personal.


    Ahh.... Nim suddenly realized why the guild master was not expecting an attack. He assumed all of his assassins would have committed suicide before they could be tortured for information. Nim grinned at the man¡¯s stupidity.


    Still, he knew that no man who could rise through the ranks of assassins in a city like Safeharbor could be an easy target. Moving through the kitchen, he realized that it had been much too easy. Looking over at Zander, he found himself meeting his friend¡¯s eyes. Zander lifted an eyebrow, and then looked towards the ceiling, obviously having had the same thought that Nim had. They will be waiting for us on the second floor. Nim nodded, and then tipped his head to the side indicating that he was going to check out the last of the rooms on this floor before they proceeded upstairs.


    Opening the door, ready to throw a dagger if needed, Nim found himself face to face with... the pantry. Seeing no threat, his first thought was about how well organized the space was. Well, the master of the kitchen has an orderly mind at least. Looking around, he found a half-used bag of flour that he thought might come in handy upstairs. As Nim exited the pantry, he saw Zander begin to shrink back down to his normal size, his muscles regaining their natural form instead of the bulging corded muscles that reminded Nim of Adrian Theromvore. Nim thought that now that Zander¡¯s warrior transformation had worn off, or the man had more than likely canceled it, the man was more dangerous than ever to whomever was upstairs. Though his warrior form gave him increased strength and constitution, it made it more difficult to do any quick Shaping. Now, he would be able to bring forth his many battle Shapings with a thought.


    After retracing their steps and making sure that they had not missed anyone, and that no one had yet stumbled upon the ample evidence of intrusion, both men stopped at the bottom of the stairs, preparing for what they both felt was coming.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Victor?¡± Zander whispered, leaning in so that he was only a hairsbreadth from Nim¡¯s ear.


    ¡°He¡¯s around here somewhere,¡± Nim replied just as quietly. ¡°If I know the lad, he¡¯s probably found a golden treasure or killed everyone just to prove he¡¯s a better model than us old farts.¡±


    Both men had spent time with Victor, and it usually didn¡¯t take long with the boy before you felt like you should either follow him or stab him on principle. For the two men, Victor was a spotlight on their youths, reminding them of what it was like to grow up in a land like Terroval. Things were usually a little easier in the cities, but Terroval was a harsh land that fostered a harsh people. Only the strong would survive to see that sunrise each morning. Whatever other thoughts they had about the boy, they each kept them to themselves; it was apparent that both of them had a healthy respect for the boy, and that was more important to each than anything that could have been said.


    ¡°Shall we continue,¡± Nim stated more than asked.


    ¡°Yes, of course; let me find out where the boy is first.¡± Zander closed his eyes, connecting with the billions of molecules in the area, trying to locate Victor¡¯s unique pattern. Locating the boy somewhere above them, Zander constructed a corridor of molecules so that he could send a signal directly to Victor¡¯s brain. Victor, where are you?


    On the roof, playin¡¯ around, came Victor¡¯s reply.


    ¡°It appears the lad is on the roof. He says he¡¯s playing around,¡± Zander mused.


    Nim groaned. ¡°That could mean anything. I suppose we better get up there.¡±


    As the two men began to move silently up the stairs, the twin doors near the top opened, making both of them stop cold in their tracks, their bodies ready for fight or flight.


    ¡°Ah, guests, won¡¯t you come in.¡±


    Zander crooked an eyebrow at Nim, who simply shrugged and continued his trip up the stairs, one hand behind his back. Zander was only a step behind as he began to pull in potential particles, preparing them to accept his will at a moment¡¯s notice.


    Nearing the top of the stairs, Nim had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as the room came into view. The walls were dark red, and there was gold on every surface. They might as well have hung a sign that says, ¡°Evil Lair¡± here. There were three men visible inside the room: two men in robes stood beside the desk, while the third sat comfortably behind it.


    The man on Nim¡¯s right had a shaved head, a gaunt face, and wore loose-fitting robes the color of blood. Blood mage, or some fool pretending to be one. Either way, he¡¯ll be the first to die.


    The man opposite the mage was a sickly-looking fellow in black robes holding a crystal bowl in his hand. He seemed transfixed on the bowl and didn¡¯t seem to care that two men stood at the threshold of the room. I¡¯ll bet he¡¯s a priest of Thom. He could be more dangerous than the mage.


    The man that sat behind the desk was more than likely the most dangerous man in the room. Well, on that side of the room, at least. No longer a young man, he wore all the signs of a hard-fought life, and his face was beginning show signs of his age. His bare arms made it apparent that he had not been lax in his physical training, however. The man¡¯s muscles were toned to a degree that is usually saved for a dancer or an acrobat. His body and face carried the scars of many battles, and part of his left ear was missing, most likely from the same cut that nearly took his eye. His hair was graying and appeared to be set back into a ponytail. This was a warrior of a very specialized sort. The man was an assassin bred for one thing: killing.


    ¡°Welcome, gentlemen,¡± the assassin said, his voice almost believably cheery. ¡°To what do I owe this unexpected intrusion upon my home and place of business?¡±


    Always ready to entertain, Nim took on the same mock cheerful tone and replied. ¡°Well, it appears that you may have misplaced a few people in your employ last night. I just wanted to let you know that they have decided that they can no longer be in your service¡ªor the service of anyone else, as a matter of fact.¡± Nim¡¯s grin grew into a smirk by the second line.


    ¡°Ah, so it was you who disposed of my men. I knew I should have been stricter in their training, a mistake I will not make again. Am I to assume then that I speak with the illustrious Nim Mithriannil?¡±


    Nim performed a flowery bow, taking the opportunity to unsheathe the dagger from his left wrist while keeping it hidden from sight. ¡°That is what some call me, yes, but you may refer to me as Vengeance.¡± At this, the man in black robes raised his head and his eyes went wide a moment before he dropped the bowl he had been holding, its contents spilling to the floor.


    ¡°Zander Halcyon!¡± the priest said as if the words were being strangled out of him.


    The assassin¡¯s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and the blood mage¡¯s gaunt features turned white before he was able to school his emotions.


    ¡°So then, I warrant a trip from the Hand of Retribution? Does that mean that the Hand of Justice is also near?¡± The assassin¡¯s calm demeanor did nothing to betray the worry that was gnawing at his gut.


    Nim shook his head. ¡°He is off training a new Hand of Justice for a new Lord of Vengeance. My title will soon be passed to one more suited to the job. I am, however, surprised that a priest in your company would know of us. Did you serve with the knights, priest?¡±


    The priest of Thom nodded dumbly, obviously affected by the presence of Nim and Zander. Unlike his companions, he had neither the willpower nor the self-confidence to hide his emotions.


    ¡°A pity. So, I am to assume that you yourself have an apprentice? That must be the boy that my men were hired to take care of. I am thinking that was not our client¡¯s motive at all, though. Sending assassins after you has never brought your wrath down upon any of the other guilds before, however, so what is different about this occasion? I know they did not kill the boy, or you would not have said he would soon replace you.¡±


    ¡°No, they didn¡¯t kill the boy. However, they did kill a young woman that was in my employ and under my protection. She was too young to die, and your time has just run out.¡± As Nim was preparing to let loose his dagger, a loud crashing sound came from overhead, causing everyone in the room to pause and look up.


    ¡°Ah, it appears that you did not get all of my men, Mithriannil. That is my armory, and even now they are preparing for your destruction.¡± The leader of the assassins stood quiet and collected in front of them before Zander broke out in laughter. ¡°What are you laughing about, Halcyon?¡±


    ¡°Well, for one, that you think that any of your men or your toy mage there can handle me, let alone Nim. While you and your men were here in the shadows developing your skills against each other and your targets, he and I were in the field. Have you ever faced a dracair assassin? No? How about a warrior? No? Well, if you haven¡¯t fought either of those, I doubt you have ever faced one of their Magnus Dracani. Second, that isn¡¯t any of your men above us.¡± As if to punctuate his statement, the trap door in the ceiling popped open as a small form dropped into the middle of the room from above. Two projectiles left Victor¡¯s hands before he landed softly on the soles of his feet.


    The assassin who had survived on the streets of Safeharbor for all these years couldn¡¯t help the look of surprise as a dagger stuck into the wall beside his head, and another sprouted from his shoulder. ¡°Get them!¡± he ordered, his voice betraying his incredulity as he stood and flung two of his daggers at the intruders.


    ¡°I am sorry Lyonel, but these two men have done more for Thom than any others in existence, except perhaps for the Left Hand of Vengeance.¡± The priest began speaking as the mage prepared to release the energy he had been restraining, but by the time he had finished his sentence, the fight was already over.


    Zander had been prepared for the mage, managing to click the last portion of his Shaping into place as the mage finished his own. It only took moments for the blood mage to realize his folly as he released his Shaping. The fireball impacted an invisible shield that Zander had built around the mage. As the energy of the fireball was released, the shield began to absorb and refocus that energy into new smaller fireballs, creating a chain reaction inside the shield that was inescapable.


    Victor was the first to grab the incoming projectile, reversing its trajectory in one fluid movement, sending it back towards the grand master of the assassins. As he did this, he pulled two more daggers quickly and flung them towards the man. Those three daggers were quickly joined by two more as Nim threw his own before spinning, grabbing, and throwing the other dagger that the grand master had thrown.


    The grand master had lived a long life and was one of the few men who might have been able to live through such a barrage. However, he had been so surprised when Victor, a small child, had grabbed his dagger from mid-air and sent it back at him, that he was only able to stop two of the blades and dodge another. That left two blades that tore deeply into his body, one of which was his own, which had been coated in an especially virulent poison.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not right,¡± the grand master of assassins said as the poison seeped into his leg. In less than a minute, he would lose all motor control.


    ¡°I have a message from Lia Swiftstar,¡± Victor said, as he approached the man who had taken his friend¡¯s life with one order.


    ¡°What¡¯s the message, boy?¡± The assassin must have been using all of his willpower to remain standing as the poison spread throughout his body.


    The screams of the blood mage had finally died out as the fires within Zander¡¯s shield consumed everything within. The shield amplified whatever Shaping it touched, so the mage would burn indefinitely in his own magical flames. Not that there was much left to burn.


    ¡°You have taken the life of someone dear to me.¡± He continued to stalk towards the grand master, his visage calm. ¡°You have made attempts upon the lives of my friends.¡± No longer able to contain the rage bubbling up inside him, his voice became louder and his expression grew harder. ¡°For this, your life is forfeit. For this, I send my messenger.¡±


    ¡°And who is her messenger, boy? By what name should I call you as I curse your soul from the netherworld?¡±


    ¡°I am Vengeance.¡± He pulled one of his daggers. ¡°I am Pain.¡± His hand slid down towards his boot, and he pulled another. ¡°I am Justice.¡± In one fluid motion, he rolled onto the desk and slammed into the assassin, stabbing with both daggers. ¡°I am Death,¡± he said coldly as the two overturned the chair, landing in a heap.


    Nim allowed Victor to do this, because he knew that if he didn¡¯t, the boy would feel robbed of the revenge that he wanted for his friend¡¯s death. He also knew that, like all such revenge, it would be a hollow victory. However, it was better that Victor learn that lesson now instead of later. Nim looked around the room and his gaze fell upon the priest, who was now kneeling in the corner praying.


    ¡°So, priest, what do we do with you?¡± Nim said, walking over to the man.


    ¡°Do as you will, Mithriannil. My life is in the service of Death. You have made my Master very happy this night.¡± He rose slowly and walked towards Nim. When he was close enough, he whispered, ¡°His Champion is turning out nicely. Our master is very pleased.¡±


    ¡°I am no servant of Thom!¡± Nim said disgustedly.


    ¡°Ah, but that is where you are wrong, Mithriannil. You are one of his better servants, whether you know it or not. You will have a place of honor in the next life.¡± He continued in the same whispering tone. ¡°You, who have aided in the training of his Champion. You, who is Vengeance incarnate. You, who have yet to complete your role in the molding of the Champion into a weapon of death.¡± The end of the priest¡¯s statement was through a gurgling mouth as the blade sliced through his throat.


    ¡°What was that for?¡± Zander asked as he walked up behind Nim, who was cleaning his blade.


    ¡°He talked too much,¡± Nim said flatly, giving Zander a look that said he would tell him more later.


    ¡°Ah, that he did,¡± Zander said as he turned towards Victor, who knelt on the desk looking over the man who had been the grand master of this guild. He sat in his chair, five daggers sticking out of him and a look of confusion frozen on his face. ¡°The man was a bit overconfident in his skills.¡±


    ¡°No, he was just a fool.¡±


    Zander nodded, moving over to the shield he had erected around the mage. He began the process of unmaking it, careful to direct the energy contained within towards other sources.


    Nim walked over to Victor and lifted him from the desk, setting him on his feet. ¡°Wasn¡¯t quite what you thought it¡¯d be, was it?¡±


    Victor wiped his eyes. ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t. Megan is still dead, and nothing we have done here tonight has made it any better, has it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s where you¡¯re wrong. We have made it so they cannot do something like this to anyone else. But we need to get home and go to bed. If we don¡¯t join the armies, they may fall apart from grief,¡± he said with a smile and a wink.


    That was one of the things that Zander liked about Nim; even among all of this death, he would still be trying to make his friends laugh. Perhaps it was morbid to laugh after such violence, but it was also cathartic. Zander couldn¡¯t help but add, ¡°Aye, if we leave Cantel and the Theromvores at it, they¡¯ll either end up dead or take all the fun.¡± Both men looked towards Victor. ¡°Tomorrow afternoon, your real training will begin.¡±


    They started to head for the door, but Victor stopped and looked up as they walked under the trap door that Victor had popped out of. ¡°Hey, Nim?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Victor?¡±


    ¡°Think we can take the stuff they have up there? There¡¯s a whole lot of equipment. If nothing else, we could sell it,¡± Victor said, his face pensive.


    ¡°You know, the boy is right. We are getting old. We almost forgot adventuring rule number one: always take all the treasure. You never know what you¡¯ll need later.¡± Zander chuckled.


    After a moment of thought, Nim said, ¡°Okay. Zander, you go find us a wagon. Victor and I will loot the place. We can take whatever money we find to the churches before we leave, and everything else is for us.¡±


    ¡°No, not for us, Nim,¡± Zander said calmly.


    Nim looked at him surprised. ¡°Not for us? What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°For him.¡± Zander pointed at Victor. Nim nodded in concession a moment later.


    ¡°For me?!¡± Victor said, confused.


    ¡°Aye, you¡¯re gonna need it sooner or later. We might as well start your hoard now. It¡¯s in our blood, lad.¡± As Zander left the other two to start their search, he added quietly to himself, ¡°It¡¯s in our blood, and stronger in you than in any I¡¯ve seen before.¡±

 Chapter 15: The Constant Struggle

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 Chapter 16: A World at War

    Year 3043 AGD


    Month: Ragn¨®s


    Seventhday


    Continent of Terroval


    Southwest of Stalwart


    ¡°Where do you think those two are going?¡±


    ¡°Well, by their grim faces, I¡¯d say that they were going to tell whoever is in charge that the fifth patrol that they sent out this week hasn¡¯t returned, just like the rest of ¡®em.¡±


    Shawnrik looked at the two men who had taken on the burden of his ¡®real world¡¯ training just two months ago and grinned. ¡°Think they¡¯ll send out another?¡±


    Dunnagan chuckled dryly. ¡°They just might, lad; they haven¡¯t seemed ta get the idea up ta this point.¡±


    ¡°You know, I was thinking about that,¡± Ashur said as he surveyed the encampment with his spyglass. ¡°The only reason I can think of for them to continue sending patrols is that they are looking for something.¡±


    ¡°Or they¡¯re just stupid,¡± Shawnrik drawled.


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s always that,¡± Ashur agreed with a chuckle. ¡°But, if you look at the subtle organization of the camp, you might develop a different opinion.¡± Shawnrik looked at him skeptically, which prompted his instructor to continue. ¡°See how their camps seem to be placed sporadically within the ravine? Things also appear to have been thrown about without care. I don¡¯t know about you two, but in the last week I haven¡¯t seen more than a bone thrown about without care. If you look closely, almost every camp down there has the same layout. The clutter is not really in the way, and there are clear paths all the way through the encampment. You¡¯ll also notice the way the wagons have been placed strategically so that they are able to be pushed over. That makes good fortified positions for them to fall back on should they lose ground to an enemy. The rocks on the side of that cave entrance have been supported by beams that if knocked away would allow those two stone slabs to fall in front to create a very defensible position, and I suspect that a bit further back, there is a setup that will close the cave completely.¡± Dunnagan whistled softly as Ashur finished his observations and turned to Shawnrik. ¡°So, what does that tell us?¡±


    </a> Shawnrik gave the information a few moments to absorb before answering. ¡°Well, for one thing, they plan on being here for a while; that, or they have already been here for a while. Secondly, that they must have air holes, and probably an escape route out the back of that cave, which also means that they could have sent out other patrols from that entrance.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I hadn¡¯t thought of that last one,¡± Ashur said, clearly impressed.


    ¡°Very good, human, now drop your weapons over the side and stand up slowly.¡±


    The three men turned their heads quickly and reached for their weapons.


    ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t do that.¡± The speaker was wearing a pitch-black robe that hid his features, and his gloved hands were holding a rather intricate crossbow. Behind him stood two more cowled figures, also holding crossbows, and half a dozen orcs with longbows.


    ¡°Well, we handled that splendidly,¡± Shawnrik said in disgust as their captors left the cell in which they were now confined.


    ¡°If we would have attacked them, street rat, we would have at least a few holes in us. Not to mention that our souls would no longer be inhabiting our bodies, and I¡¯m not ready to let Ol¡¯ Thom take me quite yet,¡± Ashur said as he surveyed the room in the dim light.


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me street rat; I don¡¯t care if you are upset or not.¡± Shawnrik glared at Ashur until the man¡¯s head fell in defeat.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Shawn, you know¡­ I mean¡­ well, I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll try not to do it again.¡±


    ¡°What our temperamental companion is tryin¡¯ ta tell ya, laddie, is that them three gentlemen in full black were what those of us in the Protectorate call dracair assassins.¡± Dunnagan moved closer to Shawnrik so that his voice wouldn¡¯t be overheard easily by anyone outside of the room. ¡°I meself wouldn¡¯t want ta be testin¡¯ me mettle against one of ¡®em in a one on one fair fight, and the Dracair never play fair. There are only a couple dozen men that can stand up to one of ¡®em in pure melee skill, and I can count on my hand with two fingers left ta spare how many men I be knowin¡¯ that could live through fightin¡¯ more than one of ¡®em.¡±


    ¡°Surely you have to include Cantel in that list, and Adrian Theromvore and Elyse Theromvore.¡± Ashur said.


    ¡°I included High Commander Cantel in my list, but I suppose you¡¯re right about Adrian and Elyse. Zander was the one I left off the list. He could take one in a close quarters fight, but he doesn¡¯t have the skill ta handle two. Now, if ye wanted me ta include those with magical abilities and other supernatural talents, the number rises quite a bit. I, however, am talking about the situation that we were just faced with.¡± Dunnagan turned from Ashur and looked straight at Shawnrik. ¡°At least one of us would probably have died in that fight. Not only that, but we didn¡¯t know if there were more of them about. You aren¡¯t ready fer that fight yet lad, an¡¯ if I be havin¡¯ me way, ya aren¡¯t gonna be testin¡¯ yerself against one such as he for a few good years yet.¡±


    Shawnrik sighed, ¡°I figured it was something like that. Well, what do we do now?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯d say that we are going to sit here and see what they want,¡± Ashur said in defeat as he completed his round of their cell. ¡°But no matter how much better another man¡ªor creature¡ªis than you in a fight, if they try to kill you, you try to kill them right back.¡±


    A few hours later, Shawnrik was awakened from a light sleep by the sound of the outer door to the chamber opening. Raising his head, he saw Ashur and Dunnagan sitting against the wall, looking towards the doorway. He pulled himself up into a sitting position and waited. The first thing he saw was the black cloak, and he knew that it was one of the Dracairei. This time, however, the man¡¯s cowl was down. Shawnrik was struck by the realization that this creature shared many of the same features as Nim. Like Nim, the man¡¯s eyes were reptilian. However, this man had none of the human qualities that Nim possessed within those eyes, like compassion. The Dracair¡¯s hair was long and pulled back. His hair was thicker than any human¡¯s would be, and it formed a more visible scale pattern than Nim¡¯s did. The man¡¯s face was gaunt, and his ears were just holes in the side of his head. All of these features were encased in skin that was leathery and had a light red tinge to it.


    ¡°Ah, and how are my guests doing?¡± the man said in a raspy voice that grated at Shawnrik¡¯s ears.


    ¡°Oh just fine, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve had a more comfortable room in years, and the food you serve is excellent. But I think I¡¯d like to leave now. If you¡¯d just get my bill, I¡¯ll be on my way,¡± Ashur smiled, and the Dracair¡¯s eyes narrowed before he schooled his features again.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing you have a sense of humor, human¡ªyou¡¯re going to need it when I remove your guts.¡± Now the Dracair grinned with a sadistic pleasure that almost made Shawnrik shiver.


    ¡°Well, friend,¡± Ashur said, standing up. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come into this cage and try it.¡±


    The assassin looked at Ashur dumbfounded. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you realize what situation you are in, human, and just who I am.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know who you are; you¡¯re just another snake who has a god complex. You think your draconic blood gives you powers over everyone else and you can take whatever you want whenever you want.¡± The Dracair¡¯s face was becoming even more incredulous as Ashur went on. ¡°Remember though, all you have to do to make a snake harmless is cut off its head. So, why don¡¯t you come in here and show me who you are?¡± Ashur grinned as he opened his hands wide.


    Shawnrik thought he saw a hint of fear in the eyes of the assassin before he hissed and stomped out the doorway. After the door slammed, Ashur broke down into a laughing fit that Shawnrik had never seen the likes of. His laughter was infectious, and soon all three of them were laughing uproariously.


    ¡°Oh lad, that was brilliant!¡± Dunnagan howled between breaths. ¡°You sure made that man think about the situation!¡±


    Ashur suddenly stopped laughing and looked seriously at Dunnagan. ¡°They aren¡¯t men, Dunn. Maybe once, their great-grandparents had a semblance of humanity left in them, but if there is more than one in ten thousand of those beasts with a conscience, I¡¯ll eat my own foot.¡±


    ¡°Aye, yer probably right about that one, lad,¡± Dunnagan said solemnly.


    Month: Ragn¨®s


    Seventhday


    Continent of Terroval


    Northwest of Asylum


    Protectorate Base Camp


    </a> Victor had thought that a scouting mission would be an afternoon event. He had been in no way prepared for the five-day trek through the hills and forests north of Asylum. The amount of terrain they had covered was staggering, and every night, Victor had reached the point of collapsing when they had chosen to camp for the night. He had to take two steps for every one that everyone else was taking, but he had kept up. Secretly, he thought they might have been testing him to see if he would give up or if he could handle the task. Victor didn¡¯t mind, though¡ªhe loved to be challenged. His whole life thus far had been one challenge after another, and he knew that because of his experiences, he was stronger than anyone else had been at his age. Well, at least he hoped that was true. It made him feel a bit more certain of what he was doing with these veterans.


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    Now he sat, looking into the fire, rubbing his weary feet and thinking about all he had experienced in the past few days. One of the first things they had taught Victor was the squad¡¯s call sign.


    It seemed that the unit had developed a reputation for going out of their way to right something that they thought was wrong, whether it was against army regulations or not. For this reason, the other squads of their company had taken to calling them vigilantes. The unit had liked the new title, and since everyone was already calling them that, they officially adopted the name and became the Vigilantes. It had been a running joke at the time amongst the company, but soon the Vigilantes would earn the respect of their peers as a unit that got the job done no matter what it took, and as a squad that worked so well together it seemed as if they were linked.


    He had learned not just how a squad works together as a cohesive unit, but also a bit about the individual members of the unit. Getting to know the members of the Vigilantes was easier than Victor had thought it would be, but at the same time it was harder than he had hoped it would be. Shaylyn had instilled him with that thought process early, to expect the worst of a situation and hope for the best, for hope is a stronger weapon than most. As he looked around the fire at the people that had become his comrades, he knew that he could rely on them, and soon he would prove that they could rely on him. Living near Safeharbor¡¯s Docks District had given him a cynicism beyond his years, and the people that were in his life during that period seemed transient. He found himself wondering more than a few times during the past week if this was what it was like to have a family.


    Shaylyn had been the closest thing to family that Victor had ever known, but even then, he¡¯d had the feeling that it wouldn¡¯t last. She had told him at a very early age that she was not his mother. By the time he was three, Shaylyn had already begun teaching him multiple languages and the arts of Shaping, so Victor couldn¡¯t help but think of her as an instructor more than as a mother. However, she had always been there when he had been sick or scared, and he had missed that greatly over the last year and a half. Ol¡¯ Man Walkins had never been a father figure, but he had taught Victor valuable lessons about how to survive on the streets.


    Then Nim had come into his life and he had a sense of what it might be like to have a father. When Nim was teaching Victor, it wasn¡¯t in a manner of an instructor to a student, but of one man to another. That was one of the things that Victor admired most about his adopted father: he never treated Victor like a kid. Now, he felt like he was meeting more of the family. He had come to accept the fact that people would probably never be permanent fixtures in his life, but he was glad to have them in it, nonetheless. In this group, he had found kindred spirits, people who knew that they would do what needed to be done because they were the ones that needed to do it.


    Thinking about it, Victor realized that the squad was probably everything a real family would be like. They told stories about each other without holding back any details, especially the embarrassing ones, and they talked to each other with such candor that at first Victor was taken aback. Most of all, there was no real privacy. Squad members could never really get away from each other, and if you were having a problem, it was expected that you tell the squad so that it didn¡¯t catch them by surprise. Victor still wasn¡¯t sure how he felt about the way the squad treated him, but they had accepted him in their own way. The squad ranged from talking to him like the eight-year-old he was physically to treating him like a young man. He felt that he could put up with this in light of the fact that their complaints had stopped once they saw he was able to keep up with their pace and was able to be quiet when he needed to be.


    Still, as he looked at the laughing faces around the campfire, he wondered how long he would have with them. The patrol had gone very routinely, according to the sergeant, and aside from the constant activity of the unit, the week had been rather dull. The information he had garnered about the unit was sketchy at best, made up of mostly opinions he had formed, but something told Victor that he would have enough time to really get to know each of them.


    When they had returned to the base camp, Nim had taken Victor with him to give the report to High Commander Cantel. They left the squad with Sergeant McDowell, who was yelling about checking gear and just about anything else that came to his mind, whether it was relevant or not. The only things that they had to report to the High Commander were some troop movements they had seen while atop one of the hills. They also related the surprising lack of activity in the mountains north of Asylum. Stewart Cantel, however, had more than enough to tell Nim. The reports coming in from the south said that there was quite a bit of activity southeast of Asylum.


    The High Commander suggested to Nim that he should take the squad to Asylum first thing in the morning, and to prepare to exit the city into the lower foothills late the following night. Hearing that they would have less than a day¡¯s rest before they deployed again was not a surprise. That¡¯s not to say that there wasn¡¯t grumbling amongst the squad. The grumbling was quickly replaced with the sounds of equipment being readied, and a lot of talk that seemed to have no real point to Victor.


    When the sun started setting toward the western horizon, they made a fire and prepared the evening meal. After five days of dry rations, a hot meal of bacon and beans was like a feast. The sun was now touching the horizon, preparing to take the light with it, and Victor found the squad yet again talking about things that seemed unimportant to him. Victor thought that they might be purposely avoiding conversation about their next day¡¯s activities. His feet had stopped aching, and he knew that he should get the circulation going through them, so they were prepared for tomorrow. He decided to take a walk through the encampment.


    He knew after about thirty paces that he was being followed, but he also felt that it wasn¡¯t a threat, so he pretended to not take note of it. He didn¡¯t know for sure how he knew he was being followed¡ªhe couldn¡¯t hear any footsteps and he couldn¡¯t smell the person in the air¡ªbut he knew that they were there. He found that as he walked around the camp, most of the conversations around the fires were about nothing much at all. Every once in a while, he would see someone showing someone else what they were doing wrong with their weapon in battle or teaching one of the newer men how to properly hone a blade, but those were few and far between.


    After a while, he realized that a lot of the conversations had been focused around family, or what they would do when they retired. Victor thought that it was a good topic of conversation for soldiers, giving them something to fight for. Again, he came to a realization that maybe they knew that, too. Finally, the person following moved closer and he managed to catch their scent.


    ¡°Finally tired of following behind me, Nim?¡± Victor asked, with his back towards the man.


    ¡°Not many people realize that I¡¯m following them before it¡¯s too late; how long have I been following you?¡± Nim asked, his voice amused.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯d have to say that you started watching me after dinner, but you started following me when I got up for my walk.¡± Victor turned towards his adopted father and saw a smile of approval on the man¡¯s face.


    ¡°Very, very good, Victor. Hone those instincts, and they will treat you well. It is part of our heritage. I am the offspring of a Dracairei, or what we call the dracair assassins¡ªthey have the ability to mask their presence quite efficiently from our extra sense. That has helped me more than once in my adventures, and it¡¯s good to know you might see it coming.¡± Nim walked up to Victor and did something that Victor had not been expecting, however.


    Nim grabbed Victor and lifted him into an embrace. ¡°I¡¯m very proud of you, you know. If I ever have a son, I hope he is like you. I could hardly hope for better.¡± He set Victor down and placed his hand on his shoulder. ¡°As you have probably figured out from walking around, there is nothing a soldier lives for more than peaceful times.¡± Looking like he was in serious thought, he added, ¡°Well, most of ¡®em. They talk about the mundane, but their minds are always on the job ahead. That is why they talk about things that really matter. If a man has nothing to fight for, he won¡¯t live long in the midst of battle. These men quite literally defend their homelands from threats on a regular basis.¡± Nim took a deep breath and looked around at the men proudly.


    ¡°The last thousand years have been rather quiet compared to the years before, and the only reason our population has stayed ahead of the wars is because our women tend to have two or three children at a time. That¡¯s another part of our heritage, and someday I¡¯ll explain to you about the links that can come into play amongst these siblings, but not today. Every year, we lose between two to ten thousand men, and every year, six to twelve thousand men replace them from the academy. Most of the men we lose are green, which means that somewhere between one out of six to five out of six of those young men and women will not come home. Those aren¡¯t exactly welcomed odds, but we do it because it needs to be done. Your people,¡± Nim met Victor¡¯s eyes with his, ¡°our people, are a very hardy folk.¡±


    Victor nodded appreciatively. ¡°I know, I¡¯ve sort of been coming to that realization over the last week more than ever before. The Vigilantes are some of the best, aren¡¯t they?¡± Victor asked.


    Nodding, Nim said, ¡°That they are, Victor. That is a squad I would have loved to lead when I was a sergeant.¡± He looked around sadly. ¡°Of course, I was only a sergeant for about a week. It was during the last real push that the Dracair sent at us. They never seem to want to come themselves, so they send their minions. I think it happens after they have too many of the things around, so they just send ¡®em to keep us busy, but they do it every twenty years or so. A lot of my friends died during that time, and I met some of the people that I would fight with for a long time. War is a funny thing, Victor. It is vicious, merciless at times, and some of the things that happen during times of war should never be seen by rational beings.¡±


    ¡°However, there is the other side of that coin. War promotes progress and change. It strengthens men¡¯s resolves, and makes men think. Women always seem to want to reproduce more during times of war, and Scientists and Wizards think of all kinds of new things. Some of the greatest leaders are forged during wartime, who would have otherwise been wasted on some farm or killed for robbing the wrong purse. Friendships that go deeper than most are forged in times of war. When people are going through the same trials, it strengthens bonds more than anything else. We are brothers and sisters in arms, and we are united in a sense of purpose. We know that what we are doing is right.¡±


    Out of the corner of his eye, Victor saw Zander walking towards the two of them. He looked at Zander, which diverted Nim¡¯s attention momentarily. When the man was almost to them, he called out a greeting, came a few steps forward, and then simply disappeared.


    ¡°Rude lad, disappearing like that.¡± A voice came from behind the two that sounded a bit too smug for Victor¡¯s taste. Nim sighed.


    Victor turned quickly and saw Zander standing about three feet from them. He quickly looked back at where the man had just been. ¡°Translocation?¡± Victor asked, impressed.


    Laughing, Zander answered, ¡°Nothing so grand, Victor, simply an illusion. You two are rather easy to sneak up on, you know,¡± he said, with mirth showing through quite visibly.


    ¡°How long have you been here?¡± Nim asked in chagrin.


    ¡°Oh, since I saw you leaving your squad¡¯s camp. I created a bubble around me that blocks out all known forms of detection and allows me to move about invisibly. It takes a large amount of energy and focus to maintain, but it¡¯s a fun trick. When used correctly, Shaping can be a very useful tool for infiltration. When used sloppily, the energy gathering and use can be detected from a long way away; they may not know what you are doing, but they will know someone is there.¡± Looking like a cat that just caught a mouse, Zander turned his attention fully to Nim. ¡°The squad I¡¯m in command of is moving out tomorrow, also to head to the south. I thought our men could travel together.¡±


    ¡°Well that sounds like a good idea, milord,¡± Nim said dryly.


    ¡°Are you sulking, Nim?¡±


    ¡°No, but I¡¯d be careful with the men comment¡ªI have a very good archer in my squad that might take offense to it,¡± Nim laughed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to remember that,¡± Zander said wistfully before turning and ruffling Victor¡¯s hair. He got on a knee so that he could look Victor in the face. ¡°I think you should stay behind, Victor. There is likely to be a lot of fighting, and I know you¡¯ve spent your whole life training, but even with your five and a half years of training, you are still only a boy.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know,¡± Victor said. ¡°I had no intention whatsoever of going tomorrow. I thought I¡¯d stay and run water back and forth between the soldiers, and maybe shine some shoes.¡± His face was very serious, and his tone displayed no hint of humor. ¡°After that, I thought that I would take some more lessons with the High Commander between his planning a war and all. Followed by tea with the Queen, of course.¡±


    Nim and Zander could only stare at the boy and blink.


    ¡°I blame you for this, Nim,¡± Zander said finally.


    Nim shrugged, ¡°Don¡¯t blame me, he was like this when I got him. I might have helped him refine it, but he¡¯s got a natural talent. I think you¡¯d have to lock him up in the brig to keep him here, and I think that would only delay him.¡±


    ¡°Here, let me leave so you can talk about me without my interruption, since I don¡¯t seem to be here anymore, anyway.¡± Victor turned and started back towards the squad¡¯s campsite as the light slipped quietly from the sky to be replaced by a blanket of glimmering darkness.


    ¡°Definitely your fault,¡± Zander said as Victor moved away from the two men.


    ¡°I know. It¡¯s great, isn¡¯t it?¡±

 Chapter 17: Face of the Enemy

    Sometime, in the early hours of the night, Shawnrik noticed a soft sound that reverberated through the wall. After concentrating on the sound for a long while, it finally clicked: it was the sound of someone crying. Once he realized what the sound was, he began to focus on where it was coming from, then trying to make out who it was. Shawnrik found that if he concentrated hard enough, he could make out several voices. The barely suppressed whimpers of children mingled with the quiet sobs of women who have come to know despair. It was then, listening to the cries of an unknown number of women and children, that something changed in Shawnrik¡¯s thoughts. Eventually, he found himself lulled to sleep by the haunting sounds. The next time the lithe assassin came into his dreams, Shawnrik wrapped his hands around the man¡¯s throat. The Dracair pulled his dagger and stabbed him over and over again, but Shawnrik held on. Even as he felt the poison coursing through his body, he refused to let go, one thought driving him onward before he awoke. You will die before me!


    ¡°Bad dream, lad?¡± Dunnagan asked, sitting against the stone wall of their cell opposite Shawnrik.


    ¡°Yes and no,¡± Shawnrik replied. ¡°Last night I heard crying¡ªit was more than one person. They are being held to the northwest of us, I think.¡±


    ¡°Last night when I tried to fall asleep, I dreamt of our scaly friend, standing at the front of the cell and taunting me. Not able to sleep with his eyes boring into me whenever I closed my eyes, I listened to the sounds around us. That was when I noticed the crying. I listened to it until I felt I could hear each individual voice¡¯s anguish, and sometime during that, I fell asleep. I once again dreamt of our dracair captor...¡± He flexed his powerful young hands ¡°... but this time, I wrapped my hands around his throat. He kept stabbing me, and I could feel the poison coursing through my veins, but still I held on.¡±


    ¡°Good lad.¡± Dunnagan smiled up at his young friend. ¡°You¡¯d have made a good dwarf.¡± Hearing Ashur snicker in the corner, Dunnagan turned to his old friend. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, lad, ye¡¯d have made a good dwarf too.¡± Looking back to Shawnrik, he added in whisper loud enough to be heard by Ashur, ¡°His head is certainly thick enough.¡± This broke a lot of the tension that had been building in the cell and allowed them to truly laugh for the first time since the day they were captured. As if their laughter had been a cue for his entrance, the dracair assassin opened the outer door to their holding area and began to move towards the trio.


    ¡°It seems the overgrown snake does not like to hear us laughing,¡± Ashur said loudly, and with more joviality than Shawnrik thought he himself would have been able to muster.


    ¡°Aye lad, it¡¯s a failing of the Dracair as a whole. They only seem ta get their kicks when they¡¯re bein¡¯ sneaky or slaughterin¡¯ somethin¡¯ weaker than themselves.¡± Dunnagan tried to stifle his laughter as their captor moved closer to their cell. It was still apparent in his voice, however, when he said, ¡°Oh, ¡®allo scaly.¡±


    ¡°You three seem to think this is a pleasant experience,¡± the assassin hissed through gritted teeth. They were teeth the likes of which Shawnrik had only seen on carnivores, all pointy and made for tearing. ¡°I am called Tallion. If that is too difficult for your feeble tongues, you will refer to me as Dracairei.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the name that the Dracair call their assassin branch of the family tree. The warriors are referred to as Dracani, and the dreadnaughts are Magnus Dracani.¡±


    ¡°You know much for a soft skin. By what are you called?¡±


    ¡°My mother named me David,¡± Ashur replied.


    ¡°Ah yes, but that is not what I asked. We have heard you refer to the large young one as Shawn, and the dwarf you called Dunn. However, we have yet to garner your name.¡±


    ¡°Well Tallion, sir, you can call me whatever you like. I¡¯ve been called just about everything in the book. Everything from milord to you son of a bitch. You take your pick. Though, I wouldn¡¯t recommend referring to my mother in such a context. The last fellow who did that isn¡¯t much of a talker anymore,¡± Ashur said, his confident smile firmly in place.


    ¡°No, I do not think that we will do that. I suppose that would make your dwarf friend Dunnagan Stormhammer?¡±


    ¡°Aye Tallion, that I be,¡± Dunnagan said, his tone as threatening as Ashur¡¯s posture.


    ¡°Criminals?¡± Shawnrik asked, no need to hide his incredulity.


    ¡°It¡¯s their twisted sense of self,¡± Ashur said. ¡°There are always two sides of an argument. To them, we are criminals. To the Protectorate, we are heroes. It¡¯s all a matter of perception. I suppose that they consider most of their craven butchers heroes. I, however, have never killed any women or children.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Well then, I suppose that would make me a criminal in training, yet to be charged with a crime.¡± Shawnrik grinned, and Dunnagan snorted in appreciation.


    ¡°Well then, we will have to let you rot here for a short while until we figure out what to do with you.¡± As Tallion turned to leave, Shawnrik knew that they had gotten to the assassin. The first tell was that the man was no longer moving silently, his claws making a quiet clatter as they connected with the stone beneath his feet. The second was the slamming outer door to their holding area.


    ¡°Well, we know we aren¡¯t talking to whoever is in charge around here yet,¡± Ashur sighed.


    ¡°We do?¡± Shawnrik asked, wondering how his mentor had come to that realization.


    ¡°Yes, of course. The Dracair have insatiable egos, Dracairei being the worst of the lot on that front. He would not have said we so much if he was the one in charge. By including himself as someone who could make decisions, he was overstating his own importance. It will be interesting to find out who is running the show. This is quite the operation, I think.¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± Dunnagan agreed.


    ¡°For now though, we might as well train.¡± Ashur said, looking around the small, cave-like cell.


    ¡°Train?¡± Shawnrik asked.


    ¡°Yes, train. Just because we are cooped up in here doesn¡¯t mean we should let ourselves deteriorate. Pull that large rock out of the corner there, Shawnrik. It looks like it weighs quite a bit.¡±


    ¡°What do you think they¡¯re doing?¡± Za¡¯erath whispered.


    ¡°My guess is looking for people like us, brother.¡± Za¡¯kereth smirked as his twin glared at him.


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    </a> Having read as many books as he could find on the subject of the Dracair, Victor thought he would be ready when he saw his first Magnus Dracani¡ª he was wrong. The creature below had to be at least eleven feet tall, its size making the two large dracani warriors seem tiny in comparison. From the books he had read, Victor figured that the Magnus Dracani would look more like a young wingless dragon, but what sat at the bottom of the hill could not be described so easily.


    ¡°That thing is a monster,¡± Victor whispered.


    ¡°That it is, me lil friend,¡± Sergeant McDowell whispered back. Victor wondered for a moment how the dwarf could be so sneaky with hair that red.


    ¡°The first time I saw one, I nearly ran away,¡± Corporal Jameson whispered as they began to back their way off the hill to discuss their next move.


    ¡°Are we going to attack?¡± Victor asked quietly.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Nim replied. ¡°I think we are in a good spot for it, too. Elandria, do you think you can hit one of them from here?¡±


    ¡°If not, I can get it close enough to get their attention at least.¡±


    ¡°Where are ya aiming?¡± Drake, the group¡¯s primary scout, asked.


    ¡°Ye¡¯ gonna shoot, Elly? Or ya just stand there lookin¡¯ at the scenery?¡± Rundig, whom the squad affectionately referred to as the walking armory because of the amount of weaponry he carried around, was obviously ready for the engagement to come. Victor also thought that he had heard the dwarf say that she would hit the wrong eye, so hurrying her into making her shot was in his best interest.


    ¡°Shut it, Rundig,¡± Elandria said as she moved to the top of the hill, in full view of the patrol below should they happen to look in their direction. In one smooth motion, she withdrew an arrow from her quiver, nocked it, drew back, and shot.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be a bearded gnome,¡± Rundig said as he handed a small pouch to the Cleric Bredwin. ¡°Nice shot, lass.¡±


    ¡°As if shot by the hand of Ragn¨®s himself,¡± Bredwin stated. No hint of the brogue that Victor had begun to associate with dwarves was apparent as the cleric spoke.


    </a> Out of the corner of his eye, Victor thought he saw Nim move in from behind the white Dracani and stab the beast in the neck, but it had happened so quickly that Victor wasn¡¯t sure it had really occurred. The creature faltered shortly thereafter, giving Sergeant McDowell time to set up the kill. The fiery haired dwarf used the back of his axe to hit the Dracani¡¯s knee, which caused it to lose its footing, and then shortly thereafter its head. The Dracani¡¯s head emitted a shrill cry before it hit the ground, sending a shiver down Victor¡¯s spine.


    ¡°McDowell, Jameson, get down here and help me turn him over,¡± the grey elf priest said, post-battle being one of the few times he was allowed to order people around.


    ¡°This is bad; dracair claw wounds don¡¯t heal with magic as well as other wounds. It is almost as bad as poison. I can stop the bleeding, but the wound is going to have to heal at a near natural rate.¡± No one said anything about the fact that they all already knew that information, because a helpful note of caution was always accepted, and even expected, amongst companions. ¡°I need your help, Bredwin,¡± he said, looking up at the blond-haired dwarf on the top of the small cliff.


    ¡°Right,¡± the cleric said, as he ran to his packs and grabbed a small satchel. Moments later, he leapt down to assist the priest.


    ¡°Brave lad,¡± Victor heard Bredwin mutter as he began picking out herbs for the poultice they would use on the battlesorcerer¡¯s wounds.

 Chapter 18: Heritage of the Blood

    </a> After a few minutes, he walked over to where Bredwin and Za¡¯erath were treating their half-ogre companion. He noticed as he walked down the embankment that someone had taken the time to remove the head from the other dracair warrior and nodded in approval. Grimbash was still lying near the body of the dracair dreadnaught, but his size had returned to normal¡ªwhich was still large.


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    ¡°Okay Victor, that¡¯s enough Why¡¯s for the moment. Let me answer them as they come so I don¡¯t lose track.¡± Shaylyn said seriously. ¡°As to the first, you cannot show other kids or even adults what you can do because you are not supposed to be able to do it. Most people do not learn most of the things you know before their mid or early teens, if they are gifted. As to why you are different and able to do things that people three times your age cannot, it is because your blood heritage is stronger than most before you.¡±


    </a> Forestalling the onslaught of questions that she saw coming, she held up her hand to silence him. ¡°The blood heritage is a term the dragons used. It is a gift from the parents and ancestors to their children. The blood heritage is made up of memories and other things that the ones before you knew. When the dragons took human form fully and mated with the other races, it changed this heritage into something that the non-draconic races had not seen before. In humans and half-elves, it means that at a certain point in a person¡¯s life, they may develop dreams or feel a guiding force from inside that they don¡¯t know what it is or where it came from. For others, the bond develops much stronger. When the heritage of the blood manifests itself fully in some, they receive the full memories, and in some cases the skills, that their parents and grandparents had. These tend to manifest themselves slowly over time. Most of those who receive these gifts do so at an age during or after their teen years, or in a time of great distress.¡±


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    </a> ¡°Thousands of years had given my family, on my elven mother¡¯s side, dozens of lifetimes of experience. My father¡¯s side was not as strong in the memories as my mother¡¯s, and they were mostly farmers and soldiers, from the memories I can dredge up. Out of all the Protectorate Forces, there is a small percentage of those of us who are so strong in the heritage. This squad, and some if not most of the higher ranked members of the armies, are stronger in the blood heritage.¡±


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


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    </a> ¡°Alright, lad.¡± Dunnagan moved Ashur aside enough so that he could delve what was wrong with Shawnrik. Pricking his finger, he drew the dwarven rune of healing upon Shawnrik¡¯s forehead and began feeding energy into it. He placed his hand on the young man¡¯s chest and stood immobile over Shawnrik for what felt like an hour to Ashur, but he knew it must only have been a few minutes.


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    Nodding, Tallion looked at the young man with what Ashur thought might be a sort of compassion. Finding it odd that a Dracair could feel compassion for anything, he knew it must be serious. He went back beside Shawnrik and took the young man¡¯s hand. Hold it together, Shawnrik.


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    Ashur looked at his companion questioningly, but the dwarf was too busy to reply even if he had noticed his friend¡¯s look. You have to live, Shawnrik. Who is going to watch after Victor if you die? Besides, I¡¯ve gotten too used to you being around. I don¡¯t like to see any of those I travel with die. Ragn¨®s knows I¡¯ve seen too many already. Keep fighting, lad. We¡¯ll be right here beside you.


    What¡¯s going on? Shawnrik cried.


    Shawnrik? Is that you?


    Shawnrik knew that voice, but he couldn¡¯t place it at the moment. His whole body felt numb. It¡¯s better than the pain, he thought, but couldn¡¯t remember what pain he meant.


    What pain? Are you okay?


    The voice broke through his thoughts again, but he couldn¡¯t pinpoint it. He knew that he trusted the voice, yet he couldn¡¯t call up the face behind it.


    Tell me where you are. The voice became more insistent.


    Who are you? Shawnrik asked the voice.


    It¡¯s me, Victor. Where are you? the voice asked again.


    A flood of images flew through Shawnrik¡¯s mind. He knew Victor. He trusted the boy with his life. I can¡¯t recall. I remember being tired, and then the pain.


    Pain? Are you hurt? Is someone hurting you? the voice of Victor asked.


    Shawnrik shook his head but realized that the voice probably couldn¡¯t see that. No, I don¡¯t think so. I can¡¯t remember. I know that I¡¯m with two people. His memories weren¡¯t coming as fast as he was used to. Fearing that he was losing himself, he began to panic. Victor, I¡¯m scared.


    Are you with Ashur and Dunnagan? Victor¡¯s voice asked.


    More images flowed into Shawnrik¡¯s head. As always, Victor¡¯s presence brought out more in Shawnrik than he knew he had. Yes! We are¡­ being held. I can¡¯t remember where. We were heading for a town, but something held us up.


    Were you heading towards Stalwart, or had you gotten there already?


    Yes, Stalwart. That is where we were heading. I remember a girl. She¡­ she got captured. Shawnrik was trying to recall by what, but he couldn¡¯t bring it forward. He felt a tinge of the pain that his memory recalled, and he felt himself being pulled away. Victor, it hurts.

 Chapter 19: Executive Order

    Victor awoke with a start. Was I dreaming? He knew it was more than a dream, but he couldn¡¯t wrap his mind around the concept. I have to do something. Rolling out of his bedroll, Victor went across the camp to where Nim sat on watch.


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    Victor sat next to Nim, trying to figure out how to phrase what he was about to say. Nim sat and silently stared out at the land below. The sun was starting to light the sky, but it hadn¡¯t yet crested the horizon. Victor knew that Nim would give him time to think about what he wanted to say. Think first, speak second, Nim had told him what seemed like a long time ago.


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    </a> ¡°No, I don¡¯t. I have heard of this before. It¡¯s not common, but every once in a while, someone strong in the blood can develop a bond with a person. When they are in distress, it can trigger the bond, allowing them to communicate on a different plane of thought.¡± Nim was deep in thought, considering what to do next.


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    </a> Zander stood at the right side of the giant table, which was also a map. He looked up from the map and smiled, but his grin quickly slid from his face when he saw how tired Victor looked. Stewart Cantel stood as he had the last time, with his back towards the door, examining the map that showed all of the intel they had gathered thus far. Victor had heard stories about Stewart Cantel over the last two weeks from Nim¡¯s squad. According to them, there were very good reasons that this small man was High Commander of the Knights.


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    ¡°I have no doubt of that. It is a little amazing how you seem to know a deck so well, though, but that is beside the point. What have you been doing to the boy?¡±


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    </a> Zander, Tetriarch of the Sorcerers, and Stewart Cantel, High Commander of the Knights of the Protectorate, both turned their heads back towards Victor. He didn¡¯t like the looks they were giving him. He knew that as military men, they would both think first of how they could use that ability to some greater purpose. The next thing he knew, Zander would be trying to study him like a bug under a looking glass. The next question that Stewart Cantel asked surprised Victor.


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    </a> ¡°It¡¯s the rise where Undrik Raffalion fought off two dracair patrols alone before succumbing to his wounds. When they found the bodies, there were other dracair tracks that had come along afterwards, but they hadn¡¯t disturbed the ground. If there is one thing the Dracair respect, it is strength, and that day, Undrik showed his strength with four warriors and two dreadnaughts headless on or near the rise. The Protectorate buried him under that rise, even though it was in dracair territory.¡±


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    </a> Victor spent most of that day sharpening his daggers and pacing. He had found two dagger belts in the room where Nim had put his cache of equipment they had procured from the Assassins¡¯ Guild. Each belt had ten sheaths that held throwing daggers. It had taken some modification, but Bartholomew had finally gotten them so that they would fit Victor efficiently. The next thing he had found that was of interest was a belt buckle that hid four metal stars. When he had asked Bartholomew about them, the man had been very impressed with their quality. He had then continued into a dissertation on how they were used properly. It seemed that it was much the same as throwing a knife, with a few modifications on the flick. His ensemble had been completed by the two forearm sheaths, two boot sheaths, and the sheath for the back of his neck. At his side, he wore the dagger that Shaylyn had given him the morning before she had disappeared.


    </a> When the evening was wearing to an end, Victor had gone to practice while there was still good light. Going back to the yard where Nim, Ashur, Shawnrik, and himself had spent so many hours since the beginning of the year had made him feel a bit nostalgic. The yard had been set aside for training, and as he rounded the corner, he realized it was once again being used for that purpose as the familiar ring of metal on metal met his ears.


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    All of it had felt like one smooth motion that Victor had never accomplished before that time, but his thoughts on the matter only lasted long enough to hear the thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, of his daggers hitting their marks perfectly. Not finished, he had released the latch of his belt buckle and removed the stars hidden within and smoothly flicked them at another target as Bartholomew had taught him to do. Earlier, it had been a clumsy motion, but now they left his hands as if he had done it a thousand times before.


    Hold on Shawnrik; we are coming.


    Hold on Shawnrik; we are almost there.


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 Chapter 20: Friends Found

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    She loved the way that Victor carefully thought about everything that he was being taught. Most people she had explained such things to had absorbed the information as if that was all there was to the matter and moved on. Victor, however, would learn something new and decide if there were other ways he could use the information in relation to the other things he knew. Looking at him now, with the look of concentration on his face, she felt a pang of sadness. He¡¯s one of the most serious people I have ever met, she thought softly. Someone that young shouldn¡¯t have to take things so seriously.


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    Elandria looked down at the boy as if he had just struck her in the face. Why didn¡¯t I think of that? ¡°Yes, he is. You don¡¯t ever really stop being a Warden, Victor, it¡¯s kind of like being a Knight. You may not hold the job anymore, but you never lose the position. You think this is Dunnagan¡¯s mount?¡±


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    With that, the ram started at a slow walk towards where the troop had set up a base camp. Elandria only shook her head as she watched Victor continue on. She kept a trot alongside the beast and had trouble watching her surroundings. Who are you? She asked silently towards Victor. As if some part of him had heard the question, Victor looked at her jogging beside him and smiled softly before looking straight ahead once more.


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    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


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    ¡°From all I can gather from Thunder, he is Dunnagan¡¯s companion. He is also a very smart creature. It appears that whatever ability you have with people also works on animals,¡± Warren said. ¡°Intelligent ones, at least,¡± he added.


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    </a> ¡°What¡¯s wrong, sir?¡± Za¡¯kereth asked.


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    ¡°Why, Victor. It is the only time that we can penetrate the defenses someone has set upon you. They have been upon you since your birth. Now, as to what your falling asleep has to do with your friends¡¯ survival, it¡¯s very simple. Sometime early this morning, your friends will assault the outpost we have let the blood orcs establish. There is, within the caves, a rune of transport. We have a company of Dracani and Magnus Dracani ready for transport to the location. There are also a handful of Dracairei already inside the encampment. Your friends are good, but even they cannot withstand that many Dracair and three hundred orcs.¡± The old mage spoke of his friends¡¯ death as one would speak of the weather over tea.


    ¡°You want me to come to you, or you will kill my friends,¡± Victor stated. It was not a question¡ªhe knew it was the only possible reason why they would be doing this. He just didn¡¯t understand why. What do they want me for?


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    Yandarian scowled at his subordinate. ¡°It is true, some may die still, but that is better than all of them. It is also likely that your friends on the inside will survive, whereas they would die first should you not come, and the rest of your party and yourself would soon join them. You must not tell anyone of this.¡±


    Victor, time to get up.


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 Chapter 21: Friends Lost

    Year 3043 AGD


    Month: Ragn¨®s


    Fourth Secondday


    Continent of Terroval


    Southwest of Asylum


    Blood Orc Encampment


    Olivia awoke to the familiar cries of despair. However, those cries were not what had awakened her. There was some other sound echoing through the tunnels outside of their musty prison. She stood slowly, walking cautiously towards the cell door. She was glad to see the guard: he was the one thing down here that seemed solid.


    When they had been captured¡ªwhich had been about a month ago, by Olivia¡¯s estimation¡ªtheir captors didn¡¯t care much about them. She knew that whoever was in charge had ordered that they not be killed, but that had left a lot of room in the minds of some of the orcs. Luckily for her and the other women, the massive guard who stood in front of their cage now didn¡¯t care much for those thoughts.


    It had been late in the night on the third day of their imprisonment. Two orcs had opened the door to the cell, quietly slinking in. From the slavering looks they were directing towards the women, the people knew what they were after. Olivia¡¯s brother had tried to stop the brutes, but for his trouble he was thrown against one of the rock walls, falling into an unconscious heap.


    Olivia remembered that clammy hand as it had closed around her wrist and lifted her easily to her feet. She also remembered his other hand probing lustily before she heard the other orc grunt behind her attacker. The offending orc dropped her and turned around to see what was happening to his companion. She grinned as she thought about what the orc saw in that moment, one of the largest fists she had ever seen, coming straight for his head. The orc that had been groping her flew past as she jumped out of the way, and he hit the wall twice as hard as her brother had.


    She remembered the large orc¡¯s apologetic look as he grabbed the other two orcs by the scruff of the neck and tossed them from the cell. On any of the other orc faces she had seen, it would have been an odd expression, but the large orc that had saved her had much softer features than his companions. She had found few occasions to converse with the large man when he was alone on guard duty, only managing to get a few words out of the orc. Now was one of those occasions where he was alone on duty, and she felt relieved as she moved up to the door.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Olivia asked quietly.


    ¡°Probably just some fight over something stupid,¡± the large orc said as he shrugged.


    ¡°You told me that you were different from the other orcs last time we spoke, what did you mean?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I said I was nothing like these savages. Why is none of your business.¡± He looked at her as if she were trying to trick him into something, and he wasn¡¯t going to bite.


    ¡°Well, if it is a sensitive subject, I withdraw my question,¡± Olivia apologized.


    ¡°It¡¯s not sensitive,¡± the large man said softly. ¡°It¡¯s just not talked about.¡± He turned back toward the outer door to the cell and continued. ¡°You know the three men that came to your camp before you were captured?¡± She nodded, and he went on. ¡°Well, the only reason we captured you was to capture those three.¡±


    ¡°So, they are down here somewhere, too?¡± Olivia asked, sounding defeated.


    ¡°Yes, they were captured sometime after you. Do not fear, however¡ªthey are merely pawns, as are your people. From what I understand, you were the bait to catch them, so that we could use them to catch someone else.¡± The large orc¡¯s face scrunched up in an expression of pain as he went through that thought.


    ¡°What does this have to do with you being different?¡± she asked, trying to bring him back on subject.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting to that,¡± he said chidingly. ¡°Well, the dwarf with them is named Dunnagan Stormhammer. He is something of a legend in my village.¡± When he saw that she didn¡¯t know the name, he sighed and went on. ¡°You see, when he was younger and in the Wardens that patrol the mountains of the north, his patrol happened upon a small town under siege. A blood orc tribe had decided that the town looked like easy pickings, and so the chief ordered the raid. They were not expecting a patrol of Wardens, however, and the resistance they met was more than they had planned for. The chief knew that even with the losses they had sustained, they were still winning, and he didn¡¯t pull his men back. They would have razed that village, but the goddess Cypheria wouldn¡¯t allow it that day. Her messenger came from the line of Wardens that was slowly faltering. His body pulsed with a glow of holy energy, and the axe he held in his hand soon ran red with the blood of my kin.¡±


    The large orc wore a mask of reverence as he spoke of that day.


    ¡°Soon, the holy fires erupted amongst the orcs and the light of the gods came down upon the villagers, revitalizing and even resurrecting the fallen. Those orcs that came away from that fight were changed. No longer did they lust for the blood of the enemy, and no longer did they fall prey to their base instincts.¡± He looked down at Olivia and saw that she was spellbound in his story. ¡°Over the years, we have gathered many worldly travelers and other orcs that thought as we did. We could not, however, allow the other tribes to know how we thought, so every year, some of us are sent to join in the battles.¡±


    He was forlorn, and Olivia knew then that he was truly different from the rest of the orcs in the camp.


    ¡°What is your name?¡± she asked unexpectedly.


    The large orc looked at her with surprise.


    ¡°I am called Tha¡¯tuk here, but my village knows me as Thaddius. Thaddius Relegaus,¡± he said proudly.


    ¡°Pleased to meet you, Thaddius. I am Olivia Little.¡± She held out her hand, and he took it, giving it a firm shake. Their conversation was cut short, however, as the fighting outside grew in intensity.


    Shawnrik felt as if he was a new person. He lumbered down the hallway, throwing orcs around like they were ragdolls. His companions had no complaints with him leading the charge. It had only been a half an hour ago that Tallion, the Dracair Assassin, had come and unlocked their cage, telling them to give him a few minutes to leave himself before they broke out. Shawnrik¡¯s first reaction had been to lunge for the man and throttle him, but Ashur changed his momentum enough so that he just hit the bars of the cage instead.


    ¡°This may be a trap, but that is no way to repay someone for lettin¡¯ us out, Shawny,¡± Dunnagan had chided.


    Shawnrik grasped the bars, and then walked back to the upraised rock in the back of the cell and sat down. He noticed that no one had moved, not even Tallion, and he followed the three men¡¯s gazes: the metal of the bars had impressions of his hands in them.


    Tallion let out a throaty hiss that must have been a laugh, and he tossed the keys into the cell. ¡°Not that you need them,¡± the Dracairei said as he looked at Shawnrik with amazement before leaving the room.


    It was that strength that he was using now to find their equipment and the other people he knew were trapped down here. They had searched a dozen rooms and gotten into twice that many fights. Shawnrik was clumsier than he remembered being and knew he would have to retrain himself to get used to his new size, but his strength more than made up for any lack of mobility.


    He burst through another room and let out a sigh as he saw the huddled forms inside of one of the cells. Guarding the cell, however, was one of the biggest orcs he had seen thus far. He started to charge the beast, and the orc assumed a defensive crouch.


    ¡°Stop!¡± the girl at the door of the cell yelled.


    Shawnrik¡¯s footsteps faltered, but he caught himself before falling face first into the dirt. He looked to see who had spoken and recognized the girl he had gone on a walk with. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were beyond dirty, but he couldn¡¯t mistake her for anyone else.


    ¡°Olivia?¡± Shawnrik asked, eyeing the orc warily.


    She looked at him as if she had never seen him before, and then comprehension dawned upon her features.


    ¡°Shawnrik?¡± she asked. ¡°Is that you?¡±


    At that moment, he felt more than a little embarrassed as he looked upon the beautiful girl who was a year older than himself. Shawnrik realized that he was no longer a young street orphan; he would never be seen the same again. Shawnrik had been a boy of fourteen only a short while before, but now he was in the body of a young man who stood taller than most full-grown men. His look of abashment didn¡¯t last long, however, as his companions came in the door behind him and reminded him of where they were.


    ¡°What are ye doin¡¯, lad?¡± Dunnagan asked as he viewed the situation.


    Shawnrik saw the orc¡¯s posture change as Dunnagan came into the room, making him believe the stranger wasn¡¯t an enemy. ¡°Do you have the key?¡± Shawnrik asked.


    ¡°No, but I know where we can find it.¡± Thaddius started to move toward the door, but Shawnrik stopped him with his hand on the man¡¯s chest.


    ¡°No need.¡± Shawnrik walked over to the cell door and motioned for Olivia to move back. He was surprised at how easy it was. The door seemed to want to come off its hinges, and he tossed it aside. From inside the cell, he heard the murmurs of amazement and fear. From behind him, he heard the orc¡¯s intake of breath and Dunnagan laughing. The thing that hit him the most, though, was the fear the people in the cage had projected toward him. It did not bother Shawnrik long, however, as Olivia ran out of the cell and jumped, throwing her arms around his neck. His initial surprise wasn¡¯t enough to keep him from catching her, nor to respond to the kiss that she planted on him a moment later.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, while his massive arms were still wrapped around her.


    Shawnrik blinked, impressing himself that he had managed to regain some function of his body. He stood there looking at Olivia, and she at him, until he heard three throats clearing behind them. Looking embarrassed, he gently put her down and turned around. Olivia walked in front of him and brought him to Thaddius.


    ¡°This is Thaddius, Shawnrik. Thaddius, this is Shawnrik.¡± Olivia noted the air of mistrust between the two. ¡°Thaddius protected us while we were down here, Shawnrik. If it wasn¡¯t for him¡­¡±


    Her voice trailed off, and Shawnrik saw the expression on the orc¡¯s face and knew what she was talking about. Shawnrik put his hand out and the two men grasped hands.


    </a> ¡°Ahh good, now that the introductions be nearly complete, ye think that we could get out of the encampment controlled by a lot of bloodthirsty orcs that want to kill us?¡± Dunnagan said, and then added, ¡°No offense meant, Thaddius.¡±


    ¡°None taken, sir,¡± Thaddius said reverently.


    ¡°Some coming down the hall,¡± Ashur whispered from the doorway.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be gettin¡¯ these people ready, ye two can take care of the easy part,¡± Dunnagan said with a wink.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help you, Mr. Stormhammer,¡± the large orc said, and the three men turned to him, surprised that he knew Dunnagan¡¯s name. Noticing the looks the men were giving him, Thaddius said, ¡°I¡¯ll explain later.¡±


    The subject was dropped when Shawnrik and Ashur ran out the door to meet the charge.


    Nim ran through the dark tunnels with Zander at his side, and he heard the footsteps of more of their men behind them. The light had been coming up as they reached the entrance to the cave. The morning had been bloody, and it wasn¡¯t over yet. The chaos of battle always annoyed Nim, but he also thrived on it. The first part had gone simply, and many of the orcs had died before they had a chance to wake up, but it had been one unusually alert orc who ruined the morning.


    With the yell raised, the hundreds of orcs still in their beds awoke. From that point on, it had been a life-or-death struggle every step of the way. He came out of his thoughts as a blade came whirring around the corner. He ducked just in time, but he was sure that he had gotten an impromptu haircut. There was a bright flash beside him from Zander, and his attacker went flying.


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    Nim was ready for the rest that came around the corner and parried the first blow, making a riposte to the creature¡¯s arm. His other blade came up to strike the orc¡¯s companion, and the battle was on in full once more. There was not much room for maneuvering in these tight quarters, so the rest of the squad behind him could do nothing but watch. Every once in a while, an arrow would whiz past his head and strike one of the brutes coming up the tunnel or running back down it.


    He wasn¡¯t sure how many had fallen earlier in the day, nor how many were behind him. He was sure that some had been lost¡ªthere were always losses. They came to a point, however, where the defense seemed to have run out. The lower levels seemed to have been drained of the bloodthirsty orcs. It was only when they ran across the first room full of bodies that they realized they weren¡¯t alone.


    Nim was poised to attack when he heard many footsteps around the corner, but as he rounded the corner, he realized that it was Ashur and Dunnagan, along with two large fellows and some ragged-looking humans.


    ¡°Nim!¡± Ashur said surprised. ¡°What are you doing here!?¡±


    ¡°We came to get you,¡± Nim said, his nerves calming. ¡°Victor insisted.¡±


    ¡°Victor is here?¡± The big man behind Ashur said in an odd voice that squeaked at the end of the question. Noticing Nim¡¯s lack of recognition, Shawnrik sighed. ¡°It¡¯s me, Nim. Shawnrik.¡±


    After a moment of examination, Nim¡¯s eyes widened in astonishment.


    ¡°By the gods! It is you!¡± Nim looked at Ashur seriously. ¡°What have you been feeding him?¡±


    ¡°Whole cows, mostly,¡± Ashur said with a shrug, which made the area erupt in soft laughter, to Shawnrik¡¯s chagrin.


    ¡°Where is Victor?¡± Shawnrik asked again.


    ¡°He is here somewhere,¡± Nim assured him, while turning to the people behind him. ¡°Victor!¡± Nim yelled, and when there was no response, he raised his voice. ¡°Victor? Has anyone seen Victor?¡± There were too many no¡¯s and not since we came in¡¯s to fit Nim¡¯s taste. ¡°He¡¯s got to be around here somewhere.¡±


    ¡°What about the dracair assassins?¡± Zander asked Dunnagan. ¡°Have you seen any of them?¡±


    ¡°Aye, the Dracairei left a few hours ago. He didn¡¯t say why, but he just came along with a key and gave it to us. He said they were leaving,¡± Dunnagan responded.


    ¡°Well, we need to get out of here, no matter what is going on. He is probably waiting for us outside. He¡¯s a smart kid¡ªhe¡¯d know better than to wander around down here by himself,¡± Ashur assured everyone. With nods of agreement, the party turned and started their trek back out the tunnels.


    Year 3043 AGD


    Month: Ragn¨®s


    Fourth Seventhday


    Continent of Terroval


    Southwest of Asylum


    Near the Blood Orc Ravine


    ¡°You see, your friends are safe,¡± Yandarian said to Victor as they stood over the basin, watching the morning unfold before them.


    Victor nodded, happy that his friends were making it out safely. Some had been lost, he knew. A handful from Zander¡¯s squad had been lost, and from Nim¡¯s, Drake the human scout and Bredwin the dwarven cleric were staring up at the sky hollowly. It would have been much worse, however, and Victor knew it. He had done what he thought was best, and now he would accept whatever was to come.


    ¡°What now?¡± Victor asked.


    ¡°Now,¡± Temendri said, ¡°we hand you over to those of a different art.¡± He smiled as Victor stared into the pool, absorbing every image.


    ¡°Do not fear, Victor,¡± Yandarian said, coming over to the boy. Victor looked up at him in confusion. ¡°You will not worry about them, nor fear for their safety. In the morning, they will be nothing more than a fleeting thought.¡±


    Festival of the Sun


    (Day between Ragn¨®s and New Generals)


    Blood Orc Encampment


    They had spent two days searching through the caves and in the area around the ravine, to no avail. The arcane and divine sights revealed nothing. Victor Deus had vanished: no body, and no trace. It was with a heavy heart that Nim canceled the search. Shawnrik had been adamant about continuing, but when Zander had explained to him about the war, his protests had lessened. Nim knew that Shawnrik still wanted to look for Victor¡ªhe did too¡ªbut they also knew that there were other, more pressing matters to take care of.


    So it was that last night in the ravine that Nim had found the notes. He had been packing his gear and checking his supplies when he happened upon them. They were at the bottom of his saddle bags, tucked into the very corner and folded into tight squares. Slowly, he reached into the bag and pulled them out. He recognized the fold, because it was the one he used when passing messages, the one he had taught Victor.


    Nim walked towards the campfire to get a better look at the papers. Coming into the light, he knew by the writing that it was Victor who had left the notes there. Examining the paper, he realized that Victor had taken them from the sheaf of papers that he kept in his bags.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Nim? You look like you just saw a wraith.¡±


    Nim looked up from his thoughts and saw his longtime friend sitting at the other end of the campfire. Next to Ashur sat the young man, Shawnrik, and another longtime companion, Dunnagan. No matter how good it was to see these strong allies and even better friends, Nim couldn¡¯t help but feel like he had failed. He had come here with the hopes of freeing his friends from their confinement, and in the process, six soldiers had been lost. Every one of them had known the risks involved, but it was still a high price to pay. A price, Nim mused, that he would pay again if he had to. His friends were important to Nim, but they were also important to the Protectorate.


    Nim held up his hands, showing the notes. The first note had his name on it, and the second had Shawnrik¡¯s. The three men across the fire from him stood quickly. They knew Nim, and they knew what those notes must mean for him to be so out of sorts over them.


    ¡°Are those¡­?¡± Ashur asked quietly.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Nim said, nodding. ¡°There is one for me and one for Shawnrik.¡±


    Shawnrik came around the fire quickly, and almost fell for his effort. He was still not used to his larger form, and it would take time for him to be completely familiar with it. Nim handed Shawnrik the note with his name on it and watched as he stood in front of the fire holding the paper reverently, much as Nim was holding his own. Nim turned his note over, unfolding the paper, glancing at those gathered around the fire before he began to read the note to himself.


    Nim,


    If you are reading this, then it means that my leaving was not in vain. I cannot tell you why I left, only that it was for a good reason. I will see you all later in life; I am sure of it. For now, there are more important things going on. You must go to Asylum¡ªI have a bad feeling about what is going to happen. Gather as many allies as you can on your way. Shawnrik will have to leave you along the way. He must go, or all is lost. I have known this day was coming for a while now, and I do not fear it. Shaylyn told me that it would come, and so far, nothing she has told me has been wrong. Tell Ashur to be careful, and Dunnagan that I¡¯m sorry I never got the chance to meet him. Tell them both that they need to finish the important parts of Shawnrik¡¯s training this week. I know you had hoped to shape me into a tool for your spying and to follow in your footsteps, but that cannot be. I will learn many things, and I do not think I will be the same person when next we meet. Know that I am grateful for your generosity, training, and most of all, your friendship. Take care of everyone and find Lia¡ªI¡¯m afraid she might be doing something dangerous. When Cantel makes you an offer, do not refuse it. It may not be what you want, but it is what you need to do to keep the Protectorate whole. Most importantly, though, forget about me; not completely, of course, but do not bother to search, for you will not find me. When the time is right, we shall meet again. Until then, you all need to focus on the things that you can change.


    Your Friend, Your Student, Your Son,


    Victor Deus


    P.S. Do not read this part aloud. You may wonder how I know these things, and I do not know myself. My dreams are of people that are not myself, and yet they are a part of me.


    Last night I was contacted while we slept, and it is with those people that I now reside. I knew that someone would contact me; I just did not know when. There is a long road ahead of all of us, so take care of everyone. Shawnrik must leave with those you meet that want him. Make him go, by force if you need to; if you don¡¯t, he will die.


    May Cypheria give you strength and Ragn¨®s guide your blade.


    As Zander entered the circle, the firelight licking across their stark frames, Nim read the first part of the letter aloud. He left out the parts that had to do with himself, and instead of the very personal ending, he added the one at the end of the postscript. ¡°May Cypheria give you strength and Ragn¨®s guide your blades.¡± Slowly, he lowered the note and began folding it again. He noticed the faraway looks in his companions¡¯ eyes, and he nodded to himself. Looking over, he saw that Shawnrik was still staring down at his unopened letter. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to read your note?¡± Nim asked him, which seemed to bring the young man back to his senses.


    ¡°Wha¡­?¡± He said looking at Nim. ¡°Oh, yes, but you see¡­¡± holding up the back side of his note, Nim saw that it said in clear letters, Do not open for eight days after you leave the ravine.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Nim said, as he slid the note into his coat pocket.


    ¡°Well, the boy has a point,¡± Dunnagan said slowly. ¡°If¡¯n he¡¯s right about the other things, he¡¯s probably right about the war. Which means we need allies.¡±


    ¡°All of our troops are there; we can¡¯t pull any more away from the city,¡± Zander said hopelessly.


    ¡°Ah, but yer forgettin¡¯ the Wardens.¡± Dunnagan held up his finger. ¡°Also, an even better ally, though I hate to admit it, being a warden m¡¯self ye know, is the Order of the Griffon,¡± he added ruefully.


    ¡°You trained with the Order for a while, didn¡¯t you, Zander?¡± Ashur said, looking at his friend.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Zander nodded. ¡°But they don¡¯t interfere in wars often. They do not like to fight orcs and goblins¡ªthey think that it is too easy. The Grandmaster is very old, and he may be wary of a fight.¡±


    ¡°Bah, monks!¡± Dunnagan snorted. ¡°They train fourteen hours a day every day of their lives, and they are too afraid to fight.¡±


    ¡°Nay, my friend,¡± Zander said sharply. ¡°They are not afraid, but it takes a long time to train members of their Order, and though there are many more now than there ever has been, a loss would be wasteful for when they are needed. Should a full-scale invasion occur, they would be our major line of defense. Every member above initiate can kill three Dracairei with their bare hands without taking a mark.¡±


    ¡°Nim and Ashur can do that too, and they are still fighting,¡± Dunnagan added, but he was running out of steam.


    ¡°Yes, but we fight because it is what we do. They are all servants of Cypheria, just like you, Dunnagan. Their precept states that they are to only engage in conflicts the level of the Dracair or greater,¡± Nim interjected, and Zander nodded in appreciation. ¡°Not that I agree,¡± Nim added quickly, which turned Zander¡¯s nod into a sigh.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ashur said surprising everyone. ¡°I heard that one of ¡®em took part in killing a goddess a while back. Goddess of torture and betrayal, I believe¡ªone of the old ones. Only followers were some dark priests, and a few blood mages.¡±


    ¡°That would be Cypherious,¡± Zander said. ¡°The order found him on their doorstep when he was a baby. They named him after the goddess Cypheria, and they have trained him since he could walk. He is only nineteen, and he has gone through all four schools of training.¡± He held up a finger for each as he named them off. He was far enough away from the fire that he blended in with the night, his fingers nearly indistinguishable from the shadows that fought against the light of the fire. ¡°Martial, Metaphysical, Spiritual, and Assassination. Each school, men have devoted most of their lives to perfecting. Like many of us, however, he has not mastered any except the Martial, but he has excelled in the rest.¡±


    ¡°Jack of all trades,¡± Nim said. ¡°My kind of guy.¡±


    Everyone at the fire snickered at that comment. They were all from backgrounds that started out on a solitary path and then branched out to many. None of them was a master of their intended profession, but they had become skilled in many disciplines. Learning to adapt to any situation seemed to be the secret to survival in these harsh lands. It was the rare individual who was an exception to that rule.


    Shawnrik had moved away from the rest of the group, and Nim had noted his slow departure. The rest of those around the fire noted his line of sight, and when he looked back to them, each nodded to him in understanding. Nim wasn¡¯t quite sure why it had to be him; Ashur had spent the most time with the lad, but he didn¡¯t think twice about it as he walked in the direction Shawnrik had headed.


    Shawnrik only half-listened to the fading voices around the fire as he walked farther into the deep recesses of night. So much had changed since he had left Safeharbor, and he had so much he wanted to tell his friend. He knew there were other things to do and that they had searched for Victor, but he still didn¡¯t like it. Why am I going to have to leave on the trip to Asylum? He fingered the note in his pocket, wondering at its contents. He would not open it until eight days from tomorrow, however. Victor trusted him, and Shawnrik would not break that trust, whether Victor would know of it or not. ¡°Where have you gone, Victor?¡± he asked the night, hoping its vast expanse could tell him.


    ¡°That, I¡¯m afraid, is a question that only a few can answer, including the gods themselves.¡± Shawnrik nearly drew the axe he now wore strapped across his back before he recognized the voice.


    ¡°Nim, where do you think he is?¡± Shawnrik asked as he regained his composure. He watched as Nim lost his coalescence with the darkness around him. ¡°Do you really think he is safe?¡±


    Shawnrik could see Nim shrug. The twin moons made no show this night, and that only re-affirmed Shawnrik¡¯s ill mood. Stars winked at him from the dark recesses that they inhabited, but their light this night was not enough to hold back the shroud that enveloped the land. He walked until his feet felt the coolness from the small brook that ran to the west across the valley. Something about the water trickling past was calming. When he had lived in the city, the only flowing waters had been the ocean and the river that flowed from the base of the cliff into the that endless body of water. That water had never calmed him, though. The Docks District had been the toughest in the city, and the harbor was no safer than the city. For the most part, the creatures of the ocean that surrounded Terroval stayed out of the harbor. However, the ocean was not called death¡¯s gate for no reason, and Shawnrik had once seen one of those monstrous beasts tear apart a ship as it was sailing towards the exit of the harbor. No, that water had not been comforting.


    ¡°I am sure that whoever has him will not harm him¡­ much.¡± Nim¡¯s glance told him that he wasn¡¯t going to lie, and sugar-coating things was nonsense. ¡°The truth is, I think the Siniquitans have him, which means the blood mages, or the Dracair. I am not sure what they will do to him, but we must stand strong. We will get him back. But I am afraid this won¡¯t come to pass until whatever needs to happen there happens.¡± Nim tossed a small stone into the shallow brook, and the plunk it made as it hit the water was the only sound heard. Shawnrik was getting ready to turn back to the camp, but Nim spoke a moment before he turned. ¡°You know, it was only an eightday ago that I sat next to a stream talking to Victor like this.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Shawnrik wanted to know what Nim and Victor had done during their time apart.


    ¡°Yeah, it was only a few hours after he rather precisely removed the head of a Magnus Dracani,¡± Nim said with a laugh.


    ¡°A Dreadnaught! What in the light was he doing that for?¡±


    As the fire crackled to a low burn, those around it could hear Nim talking about something excitedly, and then the sound of laughter. They eyed each other and nodded. Everything would be alright¡ªthey would survive, and life would go on. They always had, and it always would. Each of them took to their bedrolls as Nim and Shawnrik talked on into the night.

 Epilogue

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 Book one Stinger

(Personal Log: Captain Syrallak: Entry #8)


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 Book Two (Vitiosi Dei): Prologue

    Nim awoke to the soft crackle of a fire, the gentle murmur of a nearby stream, and birds singing to the giant orb of light that was peeking over the crest of the horizon. Dew drops glistened on the flora, and the brilliant purple hue of the sunrise faded into the blue-green that stretched towards the other horizon. Taking a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, Nim realized that today was not going to be on his list of pleasant days to remember. It was simply too nice of a morning, and in Nim''s experience, days that started off like this did not end well.


    Those feelings were soon justified. It had not taken the group long to come upon the encampment of the Order of the Griffon, and although they were admitted swiftly, Nim knew what they would find within. They were offered tea and treated very respectfully, but Nim was not in the mood for any of it. Zander had tried to calm him many times over the fifteen minutes that they sat in the well-manicured garden waiting patiently for the Grand Master, but it was to no avail. When the Grand Master came out to meet them, it took all of five minutes for Nim to lose the restraint he had on his emotions, and Zander had effectively kicked him out.


    Zander Halcyon, the Tetriarch of the Sorcerers and the most powerful Battlesorcerer alive, had dared to tell him to leave! If Zander hadn''t been Nim''s companion for so long, he would have been staring up at the ceiling only moments after such a command. Instead of stabbing the man, however, Nim settled on glaring at everyone as he left the room. As he was leaving, he noticed the slight tick in Ashur''s face as he tried to restrain a smirk. Nim''s first thought was to turn around and kill everyone in the room to satisfy the torrent of rage rushing through his veins, but he settled for hand to hand practice with several members of the Order.


    Nim had been on edge since Victor had disappeared a week before, during the raid on the Blood Orc encampment, but it wasn''t until he knocked out four of the monks in the training yard that he realized just how out of control he truly was. That damn letter the boy had left him still ran through his head every hour, and he found it hard to concentrate on anything but where Victor might be now. Why am I so worried about a letter from an eight-and-a-half-year-old?


    Because you know he''s right, said the little voice.


    Oh shut up.


    The final string on his emotional tether had snapped when they came upon a party of Giants shortly after they had awoken that morning. Nim''s previous interactions with the massive men who lived in the mountains had been limited. Few giants came down from the mountains anymore, and the ones you did see in the cities were usually merchants'' guards, or merchants themselves. It didn''t take him by surprise when the party''s gaze fell upon Shawnrik. Victor had known this would happen, but it hadn''t made things any easier.


    Nim and Shawnrik wanted nothing more than to go out and search for Victor, but every avenue they followed after his disappearance had failed. The letter had told Nim to forget about Victor and focus on the task at hand. The only thing Nim knew was that something was going to happen in Asylum and they would be needed, and he didn''t have time to stand around arguing with anyone.


    Shawnrik was prepared to argue, but Nim forcefully reminded him that Victor had told him that this would happen, and that he needed to go with his Giant kin. After having Victor''s name yelled at him the fight visibly left Shawnrik, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Nim was sure that Shawnrik would ride to hell beside Victor if the boy had said it needed to be done¡ªVictor seemed to have that effect on people. It was an ability that Nim himself also possessed, though to a much lesser degree. Nim had used it to his advantage his entire life, giving him an edge in his spy craft and making it easier to make back-room deals in the mercantile trade. Having that same ability turned against you was unnerving, and Nim wasn''t sure he liked it.


    Taking his aggression out on the monks seemed to be going fairly well until a lanky, muscular young man with eyes like a hawk prowled into the circle. For the last twenty years, Nim had been in complete control of every confrontation, but fighting that blue-eyed devil was like trying to have a knife fight with Stewart Cantel. Never one to give up, it took Nim a broken rib and three returns to consciousness before he ceded defeat to the young man. Nim briefly entertained the thought that he would have been able to beat the man if he had possessed his weapons, but after a few moments'' consideration decided that it wouldn''t have helped much.


    Learning that his assailant had been none other than Cypherious, prodigy of the Order, made him feel slightly less pitiful for his thrashing. As it happened, the meeting with the Grand Master concluded just in time for Nim''s group to watch Nim get thoroughly beaten¡ªdefinitely not a good day.


    As Nim had expected from the first moments of entering the compound, the Grand Master had denied their request. Orcs, Goblins, and their ilk were not a threat worthy of the mobilization of the Order. The Grand Master did make one concession, however; he would send with them his most prized student. Nim had plastered a smile onto his face as the old man announced that Cypherious would be accompanying them, his eyes trying to bore holes into the back of the old bastard¡¯s skull.


    Definitely not a good day.


    The ride across the valley was not a quiet one, with Ashur, Dunnagan, and Zander heartily re-telling the incident with the young monk to the rest of the party, who had all seen the damn thing in the first place. To Cypherious''s credit, he had not once boasted or said anything contrary. This might have been for the best, because the way Nim was feeling he might have killed the boy in his sleep.


    Entering the compound of the Wardens had been a breath of fresh air; Nim had always felt at home among the Wardens. Never had he met others more akin to himself: always ready for a fight, and always expecting one to be around the next corner. Besides the men and women he was currently riding with, the only other groups he could say had similar mindsets were the Protectorate Dirges and the Dracair.


    When they arrived at the complex that held the Field Marshall''s offices they were ushered in immediately¡ªanother point in favor of the Wardens. After only a few minutes of conversation, orders were already being dispatched and the Wardens were preparing to ride to war. It seemed that a message had arrived only minutes before, updating the Wardens on the status of the engagement with the forces the Siniquitans had assembled near the city of Asylum to the south. The note had said that High Commander Stewart Cantel expected the battle to begin at any time, which likely meant that it had already begun, as it took the messenger four days to get to the Wardens. When Nim asked the Field Marshall why the Wardens and the Protectorate were communicating by messenger instead of by Mage, he was informed that the Wardens had already sent their Mages south to help with the battle. The only remaining Mage they had to receive communiques had fallen over dead last week.


    Nim had begun to feel a little better about the day, especially after he found out that the Wardens maintained a circle of transport with the city of Asylum. The only down side of the circle was that it took a lot of energy to invoke the runes, although having an overabundance of people who could work with such energies in the party made it a relatively simple matter. Activating the runes was simple enough if you could handle enough energy, but the runes themselves were some of the most complex workings that a Shaper could accomplish.


    Nim had once asked Simon Windsbane, the Arch Magus, how the runes worked. What followed was a two-day lecture on quantum entanglement as it relates to space-time. There had been a lot of smiling and nodding involved, as Nim barely understood a third of the things that the Arch Magus was talking about. From what Nim had figured out by the end of the lecture, a Shaper (if they knew what they were doing) could link two places and create a gap in space-time between the two locations. The math involved seemed mind-numbingly complicated, and from the sounds of it, even the slightest error could be catastrophic in an infinite variety of ways. Because of the difficulty involved, it could take several years from conception to creation.


    Finding out the Wardens had a circle of transport made Nim rethink his opinion on how terrible of a day he was having. With any luck he might be eating dinner with the Knights at the Protectorate base camp, and if the battle had already begun he could kill a few dozen goblins before the day was through. He kept these positive thoughts in his head long enough to exit the room that held the transport circle in Asylum. That''s when he heard the screaming.


    The steady stream of people heading west away from the outer walls of the city was also a good indication that something was awry. It wasn''t until he could grab hold of someone who could speak in coherent sentences that he had a clear picture of what Victor''s warning had been about: The attack to the north had been a distraction, throwing away hundreds of thousands of lives in order to pull off their real attack.


    Nim reached the first major intersection before he found someone that could give him more information. The man had an old, worn city guardsman''s uniform on. He was directing traffic, and generally trying to keep the population of the city from acting like frightened animals. According to the old guard, the Dracair sent a group of Dracairei over the wall sometime in the night, and when the attack began to the north this morning the Dracairei killed the guards at the gates. Shortly thereafter, a force of Dracani and Magnus Dracani were seen heading towards the city at a full run.


    The city guard was mobilized, but quickly discovered that the eastern gate was no longer under their control and attempted to rectify that. Their assault did not go well. These men might be a match for a Dracani Warrior, but they were not prepared to fight a squad of assassins. Seeing that there was little chance of taking back the gates before the enemy arrived, the Guard Commander decided that it would be better to evacuate the residents of the outer district. He put into effect a plan for a fighting retreat, and his men went to work destroying key structures in order to slow the enemy''s advance. It was that action that had given Nim the time he needed to take command and give the city a fighting chance.


    Where in the name of all that is good and holy are those damn monks?¡±


    The messages were sent less than an hour ago, General. I don''t think we should expect them anytime soon.¡±


    What''s the status of the perimeter?¡±


    Sir, battle lines are currently holding. We have managed to halt their advance through the city, and we are in the process of preparing the predesignated fallback positions for a holding defense. Our current perimeter is a twelve block radius from this point. Our men are spread thin between holding off the advance and preparing the defenses. If they push hard enough at any one spot, the whole thing could crumble. Two squads are in position to reinforce the line as needed: the Vigilantes to the south, and the Blood Hounds to the north. Lieutenant General Theromvore was last seen with Tetriarch Halcyon heading towards an incoming detachment of Magnus Dracani.¡±


    Dreadnoughts? How many?¡±


    The scouts reported...¡± the soldier''s voice dropped an octave as he read the number, ¡°...eight.¡±


    Eight? Phaw, they are probably all dead by now,¡± Nim said, waving away the soldier''s concern. ¡°Ashur and Zander get to have all the fun.¡±


    If those monks don''t get here soon, you will be able to have all the fun you want, right before you and all of your men die, a little voice inside Nim''s head whispered. Sometimes he hated that little voice. ¡°I knew it was going to be a terrible day.¡±


    Barely an hour had gone by since Nim stepped out of the circle of transport and found that the world had gone to hell and he had established a temporary command post in the barracks, adjacent to the building that held the circle of transport. All of the battle ready Wardens had already entered the city through the circle, and even a few who might not have been considered battle ready any other day had joined the fight.


    Zander had been able to establish contact with High Commander Stewart Cantel, and the word was not good. The forces to the north had engaged with an enemy force estimated to be several hundred thousand strong. The scout¡¯s estimates before the battle commenced ranged from two hundred and fifty thousand to four hundred thousand various Orcs, Goblins, Kobolds, Grey Elves, and whatever else the Dracair could get to run in a straight line at the Protectorate.


    Nim wanted nothing more than to be fighting on the front line. Unfortunately, when it came to full-out military engagements, the Field Marshall of the Wardens would relinquish command to anyone over the rank of Major General. It didn''t seem to matter to Field Marshall Bannis that Nim was retired, so he had been relegated to command while Ashur, Dunnagan, Zander, and Cypherious were on the front lines with the Wardens fighting back thousands of Dracair. Never before had the Dracair fielded a force as powerful as the one that was now assaulting the city of Asylum, and Nim was the one trying to keep everything together. Life had a sick sense of humor.


    Nim had runners spread throughout the city, bringing him reports on enemy movements. The first thing he had done when he realized he was the one in command was to order his men to find him a map. Nim stood over that map, making notations whenever a new report was brought to him. Wasting men as runners put another bur into his backside, but information was vital in any engagement, and at the moment it was more important to have these men feeding him information than it was to have them on the front line.


    The Dracair were slowly pushing his men back, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before they had to retreat behind the inner wall. Thankfully, they had decided not to tear it down when the city had outgrown its original limits, or they might have been fighting a no-win scenario. Nim had ordered Zander and the remaining Mages to check the integrity of the inner wall before sending them to the front line with the rest of his men. They reported that the wall was in good shape, and that a large portion of the original wards were still holding strong.


    Nim wanted to have the Mages on the walls fortifying it further, but until the monks showed up it was not a sound decision. Looking down at the map at the little statues that represented where Ashur and Dunnagan were last reported to be, Nim thought that it wouldn''t matter how strong the walls were; if those monks didn''t show up soon, there wouldn''t be anyone left alive to defend anyway.


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    Ho, ho, lad! That one almost took off yer head!¡± Dunnagan said as he ducked a blow from one of the gigantic axes wielded by the Dracair Warriors.


    Nah, I had plenty of time to dodge that, these lizards swing slower than you!¡± Ashur laughed at the look Dunnagan shot him before dodging another blow.


    The soldiers near the two grizzled men listened to the banter with no small amount of awe. It was hard enough for most of them to take a breath, let alone carry a conversation while battling their massive foes. Ashur and Dunnagan were not only joking with each other, but they were taking more of the enemy out than the rest of the unit combined. It seemed to the men that the wave of Dracair was endless¡ªevery time one fell, there were another two to take its place.


    Slowly but surely, they were being pressed backwards. The stone walls around them were chipped and battered where errant blades had connected. As they moved backward, the cobblestone road was tinged crimson by the blood of the wounded and the fallen, a grisly reminder of the price of each step. If they hadn''t taken out the detachment of Magnus Dracani earlier, however, they would already be fighting a losing battle for the inner wall. Zander had disappeared sometime shortly thereafter, and Ashur could hear chaos suddenly erupt behind enemy lines, so he knew the Battlesorcerer was still out there somewhere, doing what he did best.


    Ashur noticed large signs outside the buildings, each step backward bringing them further into the merchant quarter of the city. The Dracani seemed to get as much enjoyment from destroying the signs and window displays of these wealthy shops as they did from trying to gut the soldiers of the Protectorate. Behind him, he heard several merchants escaping the coming battle, not willing to abandon their wares until the last moment. There had been several who had not reacted quickly enough, their greed causing them to die at the hands of the Dracair.


    Glancing to his left, Ashur watched Dunnagan''s axe sweep down towards the neck of one of the Dracair Warriors. The Dracani''s body took another step forward before it realized that something was missing and tumbled to the ground. Dunnagan was a good three feet shorter than even the smallest of the Dracair Warriors, but the battle-hardened old Dwarf seemed to always be at eye level whenever he finished one off. When fighting the Dracair, little else would be enough, thanks to their ability to heal wounds rapidly. Removing the head was efficient. Doing large amounts of damage quickly enough would occasionally cause systems to go into shock, but even then, it wasn''t long until they were back in the fight. Ashur had found himself fighting the same Dracani several times that day, as the warriors would sometimes fall back before he could do enough damage and wait until they were healed to resume the battle.


    A light green Dracani stepped up next to the one Ashur had been fighting, interrupting his line of thought. Dracair were greedy and selfish by nature, rarely willing to share a kill. Unfortunately for Ashur, the two Dracani in front of him didn''t seem to know this and seemed perfectly fine with working together to end his life.


    Ashur had learned many years ago that combat in such close quarters was not the best place to use his weapon of choice, so his greatsword''s pommel still protruded from the sheath on his back. Instead, he held his longsword in one hand and one of Dunnagan''s throwing axes in the other. Neither was his ideal choice of weapon against the massive battle-axes that the Dracani Warriors seemed to favor, but they were all he had at the moment and would have to do.


    One of the first things Ashur learned during training was that the best defense was to not get hit, but that was easier said than done in such tight quarters. Ashur was slightly broader than most front-line troops and had learned to make do with the limited space available so he wouldn''t get in the way of someone else dodging a blow. The one advantage of fighting two Dracani was that the size of their weapons made it difficult for them both to strike him at the same time. That wasn''t as much of a strategic concession as one might think, because no matter how much Ashur and Dunnagan joked around, the Dracani were anything but slow.


    Dodging the incoming swing of the light green Dracani to his right, Ashur quickly ducked and felt the wind from the white Dracani''s axe as it sailed past his head. Snagging the head of the white Dracani''s axe with the throwing axe in his left hand, Ashur tugged, bringing the white Dracani''s torso downward long enough to poke the creature in the eye with his longsword. In the second that it took him to pull off his maneuver against the white Dracani, the light green Dracani was preparing to chop Ashur in half. Letting go of the throwing axe¡ªwhich was still engaged with the white Dracani''s axe¡ªAshur dropped and rolled to the right, managing to score a gash along the light green Dracani''s forearm before ending his roll on the beast''s left side. In a rage, the white Dracani swung at Ashur''s head, connecting with the light green Dracani''s already wounded arm when Ashur ducked the blow. Howling in pain, the wounded Dracani removed his left hand from his axe in order to backhand the white. The green Dracani''s anger was cut short a moment later as Ashur aimed his blow at the creature¡¯s right wrist, its axe falling to the ground with the creature¡¯s hand still clutching the weapon.


    Ashur was preparing to move in for the kill, but the white Dracani beat him to it, shearing the light green''s head from its shoulders with his mighty axe. Ashur rolled his eyes as he watched the headless body hit the ground. He managed to pick up the throwing axe in time to dodge the next blow from the one-eyed white Dracani.


    For the next few minutes, Ashur toyed with the battle-raging Dracani, scoring several minor hits and aggravating the creature by moving into its newly acquired blind spot. The Dracani Warrior got a little more frustrated with each near miss, putting just a little more power behind each blow. Ashur dodged to the left, leading the creature''s swing into a thick support beam in front of the store to his right. The Dracani''s axe ripped through the wooden pillar, barely slowing the swing''s momentum.


    Ashur heard a slight groan overhead as the porch on the second floor began to bow when it lost the pillar''s support. At the sound, the soldiers in the street fell back a little quicker, and even a few of the Dracair stopped their advance, although the majority of them continued pressing the Protectorate Knights, like predators scenting wounded prey. The white Dracani continued his advance, taking one wild swing after another, his good eye glazed over with hate.


    Ashur goaded the white into another wild swing after a few more steps back, rushing to the right and then immediately hopping backwards into a roll. The Dracani sheared through the post at the other end of the patio. It didn''t realize its mistake until the whole thing buckled with a loud groan, sending the second-floor careening into the middle of the street on top of several Dracani, including the white.


    The men and women fighting beside Ashur let out a loud whoop, taking a deep breath and enjoying the moment of rest before the following Dracani stepped over the rubble that now covered several of their comrades. Ashur looked towards his old friend, noting several cuts and dents on the Dwarf''s armor.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    I hope we can find a few more as stupid as that one was,¡± Ashur said, checking his weapons.


    Aye, haven''t seen one that lost in the blood rage for years. Let''s hope that they are all that easy to deal with,¡± Dunnagan huffed, before a slight glow surrounded him, healing several of the Dwarf''s wounds.


    Ashur grunted in the affirmative as he met the incoming Dracair''s attack.


    Nim was ordering the retreat into the inner wall when the monks from the Order of the Griffon arrived. As the monks ran out of the transport room, Nim began issuing them orders, sending the monks to where they would be the most use. He was issuing a set of instructions to the fourth group to come through the portal when he realized that one of the monks was the Grand Master.


    When Nim had seen the man earlier in the morning, he had been wearing large, loose robes; that man had appeared old and frail. The man who stood in front of him was in superb condition, his age only telling from the neck up. To Nim''s surprise, the Grand Master simply bowed slightly, confirming the orders that he had just received, and took off at a healthy gait, heading towards the battle with the rest of his monks.


    The retreat went relatively smoothly with the help of the monks, who engaged the enemy long enough for the other troops to retreat behind the wall. When the Knights, Wardens and the few remaining Guardsmen were behind the gates, the Grand Master ordered them closed. Nim was about to countermand the order when the old man winked at him and went back into the fight. Wanting to see what the old goat had up his sleeve, Nim had the men close and secure the gate before he quickly ran to the top of the wall to watch the monks work.


    Half a block remained before the Dracair would be at the inner wall. The monks seemed to be combining offense and defense into one nonstop motion. The Grand Master redirected an overhead blow from one of the Dracani, twisted his torso, hit the weapon hand of the creature that had just attacked him, and then kicked the creature solidly in the groin. As the Dracani dropped in agony, the Grand Master delivered a round house kick to the creature''s chin that twisted its head around backwards. Seeing the brutal efficiency with which the old man had just dispatched the warrior in front of them, the remaining Dracair hesitated.


    The Grand Master let loose a shrill whistle, and the monks split off from the front line, climbing the buildings on both sides of the streets like monkeys. It took them about three seconds to reach the top of the second story, where they ran along the edge of the building, their legs moving so fast it was hard for many of the soldiers'' eyes to track them. When they reached the end of the building nearest the wall, they leapt the twenty feet from the corner of the building to the top of the wall as if it were a small stream.


    The Dracair began climbing the buildings, apparently thinking that they would be able to duplicate such a feat. Nim signaled the Mages before the first Dracair reached the roof, and fire rained down upon the buildings all along the wall. Several of the Dracair were able to attempt the jump before the flames became too dangerous for them to navigate, and one of them would have even made it had it not been for the Grand Master''s foot catching the thing''s head on its downward arc, sending the Dracani sprawling to the ground in a boneless heap. It would be a while before that one recovered enough to be any trouble, if it ever did.


    As the sun began to descend on the western horizon, Nim thought that they might have a chance at holding the line until reinforcements arrived. The monks of the Order of the Griffon had turned the retreat from a hopeless gambit into a viable option. A lot of men had died, and a lot more were sure to in the coming days, but they had held the line¡ªmaybe it wasn¡¯t such a terrible day after all.


    It took the better part of four months to break the will of the army that the Dracair and the Blood Mages had assembled. Reinforcements had started arriving from Safeharbor and some of the outlying townships of the Protectorate during the weeks after the initial battle, but a large portion of those troops were diverted to the battle to the north. Winter came on in full force as well, playing no small role in the enemy''s retreat.


    With the onset of winter, the Protectorate forces reinforced the wall, sending only small engagements into the Dracair controlled portion of the city. Spring brought with it a new frenzy of activity, with both sides preparing for the battle that was to come. The Protectorate forces waged a block by block extermination of the Dracair controlled eastern portion of the city of Asylum.


    The Dracair had been busy looting the city over the winter, and much of what the Protectorate took back were empty, defiled husks. Much of what could be burned, had been, and anything delicate and not worth packing back home had been broken. The systematic removal of the Dracair forces took the greater part of the year, with the last battle ending seventeen months after the first engagement.


    The death toll was staggering, and thousands died in the first few days of the war alone. The Wardens took the heaviest casualties during the withdrawal to the inner wall, losing a full third of their fighting force. By the end, more than one hundred thousand of the Protectorate''s fighting forces were killed or missing in action. Estimated losses for the enemy forces were estimated at more than triple that of the protectorate, but only a small portion of that number were Dracair, and only a hand full were Blood Mages.


    The Protectorate''s lightest casualties had been among the Mages and the Monks, both groups able to choose their engagements well. The greatest hit to the Monks came in the last month of the battle; the enemy that took the Grand Master''s life was time itself, his body finally consumed by the ravages of age.


    They had pushed back the enemy and retaken the city, but there would be no celebration. Too many comrades had fallen, and there was too much left to do.


    Year: 3044 AGD


    Month: Year''s End


    Third Fifthday


    Continent of Terroval


    Asylum


    I have never heard of the like,¡± Dunnagan said as the group enjoyed their first night of real rest in nearly a year and a half. The battles had ended a few eightdays prior, but between taking care of the dead and the wounded, securing the city, and making sure that the enemy was well and truly gone, there was still much work to do, and it had taken them this long to all gather around a fire together.


    Dunnagan looked haggard. Nim was sure that they all looked more or less like the walking dead, but the dwarf was nearing his sixth century of life. The old cleric still had at least a few good decades left in him, centuries if he was lucky, but the years were beginning to take their toll. To have survived and thrived in a land like Terroval for so long was a testament to the old Dwarf¡¯s tenacity.


    Nor have I,¡± Zander Halcyon said as he looked up from his book. ¡°I have been reading as many of these books that contain records of past engagements as I can get my hands on, but I cannot find anything to compare to this assault. This book is from before the Great Disaster that forced our people into the caves below Safeharbor. There are many tales of full-scale battles, but oddly enough there are relatively few that mention a large contingent of Dracair.¡±


    Nim wasn''t used to seeing Zander shaken up. Zander Halcyon, Tetriarch of the Sorcerers and perhaps the most powerful Battlesorcerer that had ever lived, had few reasons for doubt.


    Why, if we have been fighting a War with the Dracair for more than five millennia, are there so few reports of full-scale encounters with actual Dracair?¡± Ashur poked at the fire with a stick, obviously perturbed by his thoughts. ¡°Furthermore, why has no one thought of this before now?¡±


    Nim was glad to have Ashur around. Twenty years before, David Theromvore had been on the fast track to becoming a great military commander. Luckily for Nim, however, he had managed to drag the man along on one journey after another, where he had become a stalwart companion and ally. The man still possessed the keen military mind that had been drilled into him ever since he had been able to hold a sword, but he had seen more things in his travels with Nim than he would have ever seen had he served with the Knights for those twenty years.


    I like to call it positive thought, wrapped in a layer of pride, with a coating of ignorance,¡± an unexpected voice intoned from the dark expanse of night that blanketed the city.


    Moments later, the slight shape of Stewart Cantel materialized beside one of the stone-worked walls at the edge of the firelight. The High Commander of the Knights of the Protectorate looked more haggard than anyone else Nim had seen in the last year. It was no surprise, really: the man had lost more than a hundred thousand men and women since the war began. There was nothing Stewart Cantel could have done to prevent those deaths, but they still fell heavily upon his shoulders. Not only did the deaths of those men and women weigh down on him, but a city of the Protectorate had nearly fallen to the enemy on his watch. Nim knew that trying to console Cantel would do little good, but he might buy him a pint or two the next time he was able.


    What do ye mean by that?¡± Dunnagan asked as the heads around the campfire turned towards their newest arrival. Several of the men had to resist the urge to snap to attention.


    We never wanted to face up to the truth,¡± Cantel said as he found an empty spot, joining the circle of friends around the fire. ¡°Oh, we thought about it several times. I have found the question posed a handful of times in my studies of history, but I don''t think any of them truly wanted to answer the question.¡±


    Looking at his friend''s face, Nim knew that these thoughts had been plaguing the High Commander''s mind a lot recently, and Nim thought the man might have settled on his own answer.


    What question?¡± Nim asked.


    The question being, have we truly been fighting a war all this time, or have we simply been cleaning up the table scraps that have been left for us?¡± A long knife appeared in Stewart Cantel''s hand, and he began to whittle away at a small piece of timber.


    Ye think we''ve been fightin'' whatever the Dracair haven''t had a use fer, in order to make us think we were fighting the good fight?¡± Dunnagan asked, clearly bothered by the prospect.


    Cantel sat quietly, staring at the piece of wood in his hand for some time before looking up into the eyes of each person sitting around the fire. ¡°I do.¡±


    Ashur stood quickly, throwing a rock at a nearby wall. The stone bounced off the wall, hit the side of a nearby wagon, and ricocheted into his shin. The litany of curses that he had been spewing forth intensified as the rock hit home. Everyone around the fire was feeling many of the same emotions, but they seemed content to watch Ashur vent enough for all of them. Enraged, Ashur seemed to come to the conclusion that the wagon and the wall had conspired against him with the rock. Nim had been around the man long enough to know what was coming, so when Ashur stalked towards the wagon he began to erect a wall of force between the wall and the group around the fire.


    Ashur kicked the wagon into the wall, surprising everyone around the campfire except Dunnagan and Nim. Pieces of wood, metal, and stone rained down on the invisible barrier. As the dust cleared, Nim noticed that one of the axles from the wagon was lodged in the wall with one of the wheels still connected.


    I wish you wouldn''t do that, David,¡± Cantel chided. ¡°We really need every wagon we have.¡±


    Ashur turned back towards the group around the campfire, a long sliver of wood sticking out of his hair. As Stewart Cantel''s words sunk in, he turned back to the wall, raising his hands as if he wished he could take back the gesture, before dropping his head in defeat. ¡°I''m sorry, Stewart, I don''t know what came over me. I haven''t lost it like that in...¡±


    Five years,¡± Nim supplied. ¡°Five years and three months. We were in Freeport and...¡±


    Okay, okay, we don''t need to tell that story now,¡± Ashur said as he regained some of his composure.


    Oh, I don''t know, I''d have to say that it was the finest reason that I¡¯ve ever had to be in jail before.¡± Nim laughed, trying to add as much cheeriness to his tone as he could muster.


    It worked. The grin that took over Ashur''s face released a lot of the built-up tension in the man. ¡°It was a fun night, wasn''t it?¡± The two shared a quiet moment as they relived an old memory, but the reason for Ashur''s anger slowly reasserted itself in the atmosphere around the campfire, and the talk turned back to the Dracair.


    So, what exactly are you saying, Stewart?¡± Zander asked.


    I''m saying that for our entire history, we have been fighting only those troops that the Dracair deemed expendable, and I have a feeling that this last attack was no deviation from that plan.¡±


    A force to soften us up a little before the real push?¡± Nim''s voice came out in a whisper, but it was loud enough for everyone around the fire to hear.


    Several deep breaths accompanied Stewart Cantel''s nod. ¡°And here we are, a fifth of our fighting force dead and another two fifths not fit for duty. Our second largest city lies partially abandoned and in ruins. Who knows how long we have to prepare for the real push.¡±


    Probably a few years still, knowing the Dracair,¡± Nim said, before adding, ¡°maybe not even in our lifetimes, but it will come, and I¡¯m willing to bet it is closer to the few years than the lifetime.¡±


    That is my thought as well. They will likely consider us comfortable in the fact that we have once again repelled the vicious aggressors and plan their attack accordingly. They seem to be in no hurry to crush us, however. From what information I have been able to gather, the force that attacked and held the city was one or two clans at best. My guess is that they were told that more clans would be on the way, and when no other clans showed up by summer, they realized that no one else was coming. This is likely why they began to filter out of the city around that time, taking what they could pilfer with them. Whoever sent them was more than likely trying to get them out of the way of some internal struggle for power, and now they are quietly pecking at each other, feeling that we have been culled enough for the time being.¡±


    So what do we do now?¡± Ashur asked, returning to his seat.


    We rebuild. We recruit and train as many men and women as we can. We prepare for a war like we have never fought before, or we might not walk away from this one, which is why we need the best men and women leading us," Cantel said. "Nim, I need you to come out of retirement and take over your office again. I would give you a promotion, but I don''t think Elyse would be keen on a demotion, even for you, nor would Adrian. I know you don''t want...¡±


    Nim''s hand had slipped into the pocket where he kept a note that he had been given before all of this began as Stewart had been speaking. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ... to be a General again, but I think it¡¯s for the best.¡± It took a moment for the High Commander to realize that Nim had already agreed, but when it finally dawned on him, his eyes widened in shock. ¡°Okay? Just like that? I''m not going to have to give you the treasury, one of the princesses, or anything like that to get you to come back?¡±


    Nim saw Ashur grinning in amusement at Stewart Cantel''s surprise. Ashur knew about the letter that Victor had left Nim and was in fact the only other person that had seen the entire note. He was obviously enjoying seeing Cantel so off balance.


    A wise friend of mine told me that I should accept new challenges when they arise,¡± Nim said, his hand running along the edge of the paper in his pocket.


    Well, in that case...¡± Stewart Cantel said as he turned towards Ashur. ¡°How about you Major General?¡±


    Major General?¡± Ashur mouthed the words first, as if to check if he had heard correctly. ¡°That''s a two-rank promotion. Are you sure you want me running a division?¡± As he said this his eyes glanced towards the wall, where the wagon wheel slowly rotated in the wind.


    There are few others that I would trust with one,¡± Cantel said, though he looked thoughtful for a moment as he followed Ashur''s gaze.


    Well, I guess if Nim is going to accept, you have me on board as well.¡±


    For the moment, you will both be mainly utilized as instructors at the Institute, along with most of the senior staff. I need my best leaders teaching these people¡ªwe are going to need to push them to their limits.¡± Stewart said, the mantle of High Commander settling into place. ¡°I would like you to come as well Dunnagan. You are one of the longest surviving campaigners that I know, and we could use a man like you. We could easily make you a Colonel.¡±


    Laddie, any other time and I would take ye up on that, but Field Marshall Bannis was wounded beyond healing and is no longer fit for combat.¡± Dunnagan looked up at his friends and sighed. ¡°The Wardens have asked me to take over as Field Marshall.¡±


    This was the first that Nim had heard anything about a change of ranks in the Wardens, so he became fully alert at his friend''s words. Looking around the fire, he was glad to see that he wasn''t the only one who had been taken by surprise by his friend¡¯s announcement. Even Cypherious, who had been sitting quietly and unobtrusively, as was his way, allowed one of his eyebrows to rise in surprise¡ªa rare showing of emotion from the young man.


    Well, congratulations!¡± Ashur said, clapping the old Dwarf on his back.


    I haven''t accepted yet,¡± Dunnagan grumbled.


    But you will,¡± Nim said. A slight nod from his friend was the only confirmation he needed.


    Sounds like our other friend here,¡± Stewart Cantel said, turning to Cypherious, who squirmed slightly under the High Commander''s scrutiny.


    That the man had let his discomfort show said more to Nim than anything else, piquing his curiosity. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    I was going to offer our young friend here a position as well...¡± Stewart said, surprising Nim once again, to a lesser degree. No one from the Order of the Griffon had ever been offered a commission into the Knights. The forces were recognized as completely separate entities, as completely different orders of discipline were needed for each. ¡°...however, it appears that he is to be the next Grand Master of the Order.¡±


    This surprised the group more than anything else, wide eyes turned from every angle to look at the young monk. Cypherious''s squirming intensified under the scrutiny of his companions. Over the last year, Cypherious had slowly integrated himself into the tight nit circle of friends. Nim wasn''t quite sure how it had happened; the man hardly ever talked and seemed to have the sense of humor of a brick. Time after time, however, the young man had proven himself against the Dracair.


    It was during battle that Cypherious truly shone. The young monk seemed to adapt his fighting style to work with whomever he was fighting near. The young man was death in motion, and Nim had found fighting next to Cypherious to be an enjoyable experience. No matter who he was fighting, the young monk seemed to brush blows aside with an almost contemptuous ease. After one particularly brutal fight in early spring, the young man had approached the group''s fire and been accepted with respectful nods. He had been an expected, if not always noticed, face around the fire ever since.


    I told them I was too young for such a position,¡± Cypherious said, obviously uncomfortable being the center of attention.


    Cantel laughed. ¡°Which is exactly what made them decide that it had to be you. Most people would jump at that much power and prestige, especially at such a young age, but you told them you wanted nothing to do with it. It reminds me of how Dalton Theromvore became King of the Protectorate!¡±


    Cypherious sighed in defeat. ¡°I haven''t even seen Haven yet.¡±


    There''s nothing over there except sand and too many serious people,¡± Ashur said. ¡°The Oasis that Haven is built on is beautiful, to be sure, like a tropical forest in the middle of a wasteland, but the people who live there ruin the whole experience.¡±


    I would still like to see it,¡± Cypherious said, his tone bordering on petulant.


    We all do what we have to do,¡± Nim said softly. ¡°Think of it this way¡ªwould you trust anyone else with the job?¡±


    Cypherious looked up at Nim, focusing his thoughts inward before shaking his head. ¡°No, I''m afraid you are right my friend. I do not wish to do it, but I would not shirk the responsibility that has been placed on my shoulders.¡±


    Well, I would say that makes this campfire surrounded by some of the most powerful men in the world.¡± Ashur grinned. ¡°When are you going to be Arch Magus, Halycon?¡±


    Don''t even joke!¡± Zander said. ¡°First of all, the loss of Arch Magus Windsbane would be the biggest setback the Protectorate could possibly suffer right now, and for another...¡± he grinned, ¡°... that is just too damn much responsibility for me! Being the Tetriarch has already made me go bald!¡±


    Sharing in his friend¡¯s joviality, Nim said, ¡°It seems to me that you were bald when I first met you. You were what, sixteen?¡±


    I wasn''t bald then,¡± Zander said. ¡°I simply shaved it off for continuity reasons. Besides, my beautiful ebony features look better when not hidden by something as mundane as hair.¡±


    Nim laughed, only half listening as his friends continued their banter around the fire. The world was changing, and there was nothing he could do but change with it. He pulled the folded piece of paper from his pocket, turning it over in his hands. Victor had left it for Nim to find on the night that he had disappeared. From its contents, it seemed as if the boy had known that war was coming. For the thousandth time that night, Nim wondered where Victor was now.


    Thinking of Victor always led to thoughts of Shawnrik, the recipient of the second note the boy had left. Nim had left Shawnrik with a group of Giants on the morning that everything had gone to hell. Shawnrik would have opened his letter from Victor on that next morning, and Nim couldn''t help but wonder what Victor had told Shawnrik that he hadn''t told him.

 Book Two: Chapter 1 - New Beginnings

    My Dear Friend,


    If you are reading this, then it means that you decided to leave with those who came for you. I am not sure who you are now with or where you are going, but from what I have been able to figure out, if you had not gone with them you would have died last night in Asylum. I do not understand everything that is happening, nor do I expect you to, either. It seems we are swept up into something that is greater than both of us, and for either of us to veer from the appointed path would mean death for one, if not both of us. Someone has put a lot of work into making sure that we exist, and I do not think they will let us rest for too long. You must learn as much as you can in the next few years. Use your time wisely. Learn anything and everything that you are able to. Never let anyone tell you that you cannot do something¡ªyou are able to do whatever you put your mind to.


    We each have our duties to fulfill, and yours are no less important than my own. I don¡¯t know how long it will be before we see each other again, but I know, deep down, that we will. I would like you to promise me that whatever life puts us through, you will remember me for who I was. Many hard times are ahead for the people of Terroval, and hard times breed hard men. Do not get so wrapped up in your quest to better yourself that you forget to enjoy life. I want you to remember something for me, and I want you to live by it, and when we meet again, I want you to remind me of it.


    Life is a struggle. The only way to survive is to remember who you are, and who your friends are. No matter what anyone else may do to you, they cannot change who you truly are. Live life to the fullest with every breath and consider each moment a challenge ready to be faced with weapons bared. Remember who you are and remember me.


    Your Partner in Crime,


    Victor Deus


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    Happy Birthday


    Birthday?! Who are you? Who am I? Hello!?

 Book Two: Chapter 2 - The Institute

    Punch them in the nose?! ¡°Even if I were tall enough to hit some of them in the nose, I don''t think that I''d like to get into a fight with any of them,¡± Shawnrik laughed.


    can''t learn there if you have the mind to. They have everything from Alchemy to Zoology. They make sure their students take a wide range of studies too, so none of this fighting training all day long for you!¡±


    How good I am, how does he... Shawnrik looked up and saw that Pedrial was standing over him and smiling.


    ¡Þ¡Þ¡Þ


    No wonder they are called Cloud Giants. By the time they made it to the square he had given up the idea, and Pedrial seemed to know it because he reverted back to his usually cheerful self.


    zhoop, the twin doors at the front of the room swung open. The children and young teens around him stood respectfully erect as one of the most hideous individuals Shawnrik had ever heard of, let alone seen, walked into the room.


    Surely the gods have a sense of humor.


    Instructor? Shawnrik found his heart beating faster, and his face was getting warmer as he listened to the woman give directions. Looking around the room at the other boys, he noticed that he wasn''t the only one being so affected. I''m not even sure what it is that she teaches, but for some reason I want to be in her class.


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    Is this what you meant for me to do, Vic? Am I wasting my time here? Shaking his head, he tried to physically force the thoughts from his mind. Victor had told him to learn everything he could, and Pedrial said that one could learn anything at the Institute. Shawnrik would trust in his friend and do everything in his power to come out of this place a better person.


    at least seven courses, does that mean I can choose more?¡±


    Of course I have to complete them, Shawnrik thought, not realizing that many people quickly became disenfranchised with the concept of schooling. He had never been to school and he loved to learn new things, so he thought that the Institute was just about the perfect place for him to be at the moment. ¡°Yes ma''am.¡±


    Now how did she... ¡°Well, you did say I should probably take a wide field of study...¡± Shawnrik said, trying to not seem too overly interested.

 Book Two: Chapter 3 - Origins

    are at war, Verrian, of that there can be no doubt. We will be at war for as long as the Blood Mages and the Dracair continue to send unprovoked attacks against the Protectorate.¡± Shawnrik spoke with a passion that he had not known that he possessed before that moment, but as each word came forth his voice became firmer and more confident with each syllable.


    Well, if they aren''t going to teach people about the Dracair, I will.


    Good, you should be afraid. I know I am. ¡°I''m not sure, Verrian. I don''t know what the stories here say about the Dracair. I would venture a guess as to say that they are probably worse than the stories though, and if they aren''t...¡± he shrugged, ¡°the reality is bad enough for me.¡±


    Are they all blissfully unaware? He found that he was larger than most of the crowd in height, if not in sheer bulk, but there were also adolescent Giant-kin who dwarfed him nearly as much as he did everyone else.


    There must be thousands of us, maybe tens of thousands.


    Light, how am I going to be able to concentrate through class at this rate?


    tainted from the world. Always at the top of that list was anyone who possessed Elven blood who was not a full Elf. Once, long ago, all of the Elves had lived together. As the sect that sought the purification of the Elven race grew to power, the various factions split apart during a time that came to be referred to as The Cleansing.


    She knows who my parents are? As if to answer his unasked question, the Headmistress continued.


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    Olivia? It was the gypsy girl from the Blood Orc camp where they had all been held prisoner a year and a half before. How the... his thoughts were cut short as the crowd once again reached a quiet hum under the steady gaze of their Headmistress.


    Women! The thought came unbidden, but after a moment''s consideration, he decided that he agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly. Shawnrik knew what the talk in the dorms would be tonight and for the next few nights, and it was all because of those damn women. Why did either of them have to do that? A dozen reasons flitted through his mind for each woman, and he didn''t like any of them. A moment later, he thought of a different reason for Olivia''s actions. The thought made him pause, but he vowed not to show that he might be excited about that prospect.

 Book Two: Chapter 4 - Serenity Valley

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    ¡Þ¡Þ¡Þ


    If a street rat from Safeharbor can become a student at the Institute in Serenity Valley, maybe I can change the direction of my life as well.


    This could be a very good year.


    ¡Þ¡Þ¡Þ

 Book Two: Chapter 5 - Learning Curve

    How can all of these people be leading quiet, comfortable lives when there are so many people suffering?


    did write that note, and it would snow in Haven before Shawnrik defied his friend''s requests.


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    ¡Þ¡Þ¡Þ

 Book Two: Chapter 6 - Choices and Consequences

    That¡¯s just the problem though my Queen. I am still not certain that we do have everything under control.¡±


    I don¡¯t know, I sleep pretty well,¡± Ashur grinned as his friends, who were also his superiors, scowled at him. It was true, of course; his sleep had suffered little since the arrival of the royal family. He understood the consequences should anything happen to the members of the royal family, but he didn¡¯t think it was his problem. They had told Theodrik Theromvore II, his brother and King of the Protectorate, about the risks involved, and the man had summarily dismissed such talk as rubbish.


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    Well pay attention,¡± Nim said, his tone not quite scolding. ¡°Cantel and I were just discussing...¡±


    When was the last time anyone saw the princess and her guard?¡± Ashur asked as Nim''s quill once again began to scratch out orders upon parchment.


    I have received the weekly report from the guards at the mine where the boy is being held. They have been following your orders to the letter, neither being vicious nor soft towards the lad. He receives the same rations as the other slaves, and sleeps in the same cell as his work crew. The boy has been quiet and withdrawn ever since we put him there, quietly doing the work without complaint. He has never interacted with the other slaves and has shown neither the desire for freedom nor the crushing defeat that usually accompanies such servitude.¡± Temendri took a deep breath before continuing.

 Book Two: Chapter 7 - Shaken, not Stirred

    his memories came up and I did something that reminded her of him, it wasn''t a big deal.¡±


    Tunnel Rat. For as long as he could remember, that is what he was called, and he had been okay with it. Somewhere during the last Eightday, however, it had turned into a vile term. Something about these people that he kept seeing in his dreams made him want to fight back against the term. The problem was that he didn''t know what exactly it was that he was supposed to be called.


    his name. He didn''t feel like a Dalton, Ranadin, or Lagelion. In fact, the only names that had any resonance at all within him were Theromvore and Daystar, but he knew from his dreams that those were last names, and he couldn''t be both, could he?


    Looking wasn''t really the right word either, though, because some of the ways in which they could view the world seemed to be an almost instinctual knowledge of how the smallest particles could work in tandem to create something larger.


    knew how things worked or didn''t work and trying to change their minds on anything would be like trying to pull a planet out of its rotation around the sun. It was possible in theory, but the forces involved were mind numbing in their complexity.


    Slaves? Try as he might, he couldn''t get the word out of his head. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that was indeed what he and the Goblin-kin he was working with were. For over a year, he had been quietly doing what he was told, because he didn''t know what else he should be doing. It had never occurred to him that things should be different. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard an outraged roar of defiance, and then the world started shaking.


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    feel the things that made up the chain. If it wasn''t for the fact that such a feeling had saved his life and the lives of the two Goblins only a dozen minutes earlier, he wouldn''t even have the small amount of hope that it was real that he did.


    could read and write, he wasn¡¯t able to process the words at anywhere near the speeds that his fellow classmates could.

 Book Two: Chapter 8 - Dragatol

Kid, wake up.


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    ¡Þ¡Þ¡Þ

 Book Two: Chapter 9 - Insights

    Travis Augustus ¨C Head Librarian.


    A Time Before. From the little that he had been able to read, it seemed that the author believed that the majority of the races that lived on Terrazil were not native to this world but had instead come from some other place. After all of the new things that Shawnrik had discovered over the last Eightday, it wasn¡¯t as crazy of an idea to him as it might have been a year before. If nothing else, it would make for an interesting read.


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 Book Two: Chapter 10 - Undiscovered Country

.


    ¡Þ¡Þ¡Þ


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

 Book Two: Chapter 11 - New Arrivals

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 Book Two: Chapter 12 - A Jump to the Left

    kills people.¡±


    But,¡± Syranna continued, ¡°There are several forms of life that have strong enough constitutions and are able to be near the stone with little to no consequences. Not only that, but there are several stories about the stone having a more symbiotic relationship with its host when worn for a great deal of time.¡±


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    Where have I seen that color before?

 Book Two: Chapter 13 - A Step to the Right

    Year: 3045 AGD


    Month: New Year


    Fourth Eighthday


    Serenity Valley


    Institute of Learning


    The morning had been spent going from one well-stocked shop to another. For the most part they had all been simply browsing, though a few bags sat around them from the few must-have items and deals they had come across. Their final destination for the morning before stopping for a bite to eat had been a bookstore the likes of which Shawnrik could never have imagined before stepping foot inside. He thought that he might be able to spend his days simply reading the titles of the plethora of books that the store possessed. Everything from textbooks on any subject that you might want to learn, to fictionalized romance stories were available inside.


    Fictional stories¡ªa story that someone made up completely, and people buy them! When Verrian had first told him about the fiction section and how much he enjoyed books with a lot of action and adventure, Shawnrik had thought his roommate was trying to play a trick on him. After being guided back to a section that took up a good fourth of the store, however, Shawnrik had realized that his friend was being completely serious. He had spent a good amount of time simply staring at the different sections of books that could be found in the fictional section and trying to come to terms with the fact that there were books that existed simply for the purpose of enjoyment.


    All of the books that he and Victor had been able to steal during their time at ol¡¯ man Walkins''s place had been books that taught you things, like agriculture, architecture, and finances. Shawnrik wondered how many of the books that Nim owned were fictional. He hadn¡¯t been able to spend very much time in the library during his days at the manor; Ashur had taken it upon himself to train Shawnrik nearly every day for the six months that the boys had lived there together. The few hours of daylight that he had free had been spent with his friend, or in the large dining room eating.


    As he took a seat across from his roommate in a small eatery nestled alongside the giant stone building that held the bookstore, Shawnrik was once again astounded by all of the things that he had yet to learn about the world. Having come to this realization, the small sign that hung outside the bookstore finally made sense to him, and he chuckled to himself.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Olivia whispered from her usual place beside him.


    ¡°I just realized what the sign meant.¡±


    ¡°What sign?¡± Olivia asked, looking around.


    ¡°Oh, not in here, the one in front of the bookstore next door.¡±


    ¡°Infinite Verse?¡± Olivia replied. ¡°What does it mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, to me it means that there is an infinite number of things for us to learn, or at least near enough that we would need an endless number of lifetimes to even be able to scratch the surface of that vast pool of knowledge. On top of that, during all of the time you would spend learning how the world or universe works, the rules might change, or someone might make up completely new ideas.¡± Shawnrik noticed that the entire table, as well as several tables full of people near them, were staring at him and he realized that he had been speaking a little too loud.


    ¡°That¡¯s kind of a depressing thought,¡± an older gentleman at the table next to them said. ¡°Essentially, you are saying that no matter what we learn, we will still know nothing?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Shawnrik said, but after a moment¡¯s consideration changed his answer. ¡°But also no. While it is true that we will never know everything, each thing we learn is important and valuable. When you realize that you don¡¯t know anything, it can allow you to take delight in each new revelation, no matter how small.¡±


    ¡°That sounds a lot like what our Elders teach us.¡± Syranna said, her voice barely audible, even in the silent caf¨¦. ¡°They say that the more you learn the less you know, and the more you think you know the less you learn.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good to see that someone listens when I speak, at least,¡± Dean Swiftfoot said from the doorway to the caf¨¦. ¡°It usually takes becoming an old man to have such thoughts, young man. Whoever instilled the love of learning in you should be commended. Perhaps he has you to thank, Miss Wildthorne? I know you have a gift for instilling many a feeling into men young and old.¡± He said this with a slight grin as he walked to the table directly behind Shawnrik.


    Turning around, Shawnrik realized that he had missed noticing his petite instructor on his way into the caf¨¦. She was wearing clothes that made her look larger than her actual size and had a large hat on her head that hid her features well.


    Sighing while removing her hat, Tienna Wildthorne smiled up at the Dean. ¡°You know, Harolinde, if you weren¡¯t my uncle I might take such a comment the wrong way.¡±


    ¡°My dear, I assure you that while you are rarely sore on the eyes, I see too much of your mother in you to think such impure thoughts.¡±


    ¡°As to Shawnrik¡¯s love of learning, I¡¯m afraid that has nothing to do with me; he was already like that when I got him.¡± This admission seemed to take something out of her, as if she had wished she was able to take credit for it. ¡°According to Eve,¡± she looked at the students, ¡°Instructor Daymarr, to you, it seems that we have a young man by the name of Victor to thank.¡±


    ¡°Victor, huh?¡± The Dean said, his brow furrowing in thought. ¡°Anyone I might know?¡±


    Shawnrik couldn¡¯t help but let out a small laugh at the thought and realized that he should explain his outburst before anyone became offended. ¡°No sir, you would never have met Victor. He was raised in the Docks District in Safeharbor.¡±


    ¡°The Docks District, huh? If I remember correctly, that¡¯s the poorer side of town, where the houses are built along the path down to the seaside?¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    ¡°So, am I to assume that this Victor was also an orphan?¡± the Dean said, his tone telling everyone that he meant no offense by the question.


    ¡°Not when I first met him; he was just some spoiled kid being raised by a lady named Shaylyn.¡± Shawnrik was so wrapped up in his memory of his first meeting with his best friend that he failed to notice the look that passed between Dean Swiftfoot and Instructor Wildthorne. ¡°I met him again on the eve of New Beginnings, after his house burned down. He taught me how to read and write, and I helped teach him¡­¡± Shawnrik, thinking about how he and Victor had survived their time in Walkins little thieves den blushed, ¡°¡­how to survive on the streets.¡±


    Dean Swiftfoot nodded, as if he understood what that meant, but Shawnrik felt like the old Elf really had no idea. He doubted the man had ever had to survive anywhere near as dangerous as the streets of the Docks District.


    ¡°I would tell you to thank him for us,¡± the Dean said, ¡°but since this place is a universal secret, that wouldn¡¯t be a very good idea. Where is your friend now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, sir, he gave himself over to the Blood Mages to stop an attack by the Dracair on a small Blood Orc outpost south of Stalwart.¡± Shawnrik felt the moisture start to gather under his eyes and closed them for a second to get his feelings under control. He felt a small hand take his, and he knew it was Olivia.


    ¡°My family was captured by the Blood Orcs. If it hadn¡¯t been for Shawnrik, Ashur, and Dunnagan trying to rescue us, we would have all probably died in there.¡± She squeezed his hand. ¡°Of course, they also managed to get captured. Nim told us that Victor had somehow connected to Shawnrik in his dreams and found out that they were captured. After verifying that what Victor said was true, the High Commander sent Nim and his two best squads to rescue them.¡±


    Olivia stroked his arm at the look of pain that crossed Shawnrik''s features at the memories of his time in the Blood Orc camp.


    ¡°I met Shawnrik a day before the Blood Orcs captured us. He was about the same height as me then, and the next time I saw him, he looked as he does now; though not quite as monumental.¡±


    Opening his eyes at her description of him, Shawnrik looked down into Olivia¡¯s smiling face. He picked up the story from where she left off. ¡°Whatever deal Victor made, there were at least three Dracairei at that base, and they left with very little bloodshed. He gave up his freedom so that we could have a chance. Wherever he is, I hope he¡¯s warm and has a good book to read, at the very least. I¡¯ll find him someday and bring him home.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to be there when you do,¡± Olivia said. ¡°My family owes you and him a debt. Besides, from all of the stories that I heard around the campfire that night, I think I¡¯d like to meet him anyway.¡±


    Shawnrik thought about telling her that it would probably be a dangerous road, but decided that he could talk to her about it later. It would still be some time before he had learned enough and come fully into his strength before he would start that journey. He had time to talk her out of it. They stared into each other¡¯s eyes for some time before they each seemed to realize that the entire caf¨¦ was staring at the pair after hearing such an amazing story.


    The Dean cleared his throat. ¡°I see you two have been through more than most. You should enjoy the time you have together while it lasts. You never know when it will end.¡± Shawnrik realized that the Dean knew what he was talking about in that moment; something in the man¡¯s tone spoke of a very personal loss. He saw Tienna Wildthorne reach across the table and squeeze her uncle¡¯s hand in support and smiled at the pair before turning to enjoy the company of his friends.


    Conversations started up around them, starting in a low buzz and quickly becoming the usual chatter that one expects in a busy eatery. They ordered their food and enjoyed quiet small talk. When they went to pay, they found out that the man who had been seated beside them had paid for their meal before leaving. Shawnrik had never heard of anyone doing something like that and it almost brought him to tears as he realized just how different this place was from the one he had grown up in.


    After hearing more about what Gnorman was making for Shawnrik and Verrian, the girls decided unanimously that that was their next destination, saying something about making sure all the colors matched or some such nonsense.


    Verrian watched his roommate walk down the street ahead of him. Olivia walked beside Shawnrik, and Verrian noticed her almost grab his friends hand several times before she decided to settle on putting her arm through his. Vivianne and Rebecca seemed to have none of the reluctance that Olivia displayed; both had their arms wrapped in his, each holding one of his hands possessively. Vivianne walked on his right and Rebecca on his left.


    To him they were like opposing storm fronts. Vivianne was like a cool breeze that promised a respite from the heat of the day but also carried with it the chance of sudden storms. Rebecca was a warm front that promised sunny skies, but the ease with which she blew one direction, or another increased the chances of getting burned. Verrian realized that they wanted him to ask one of them to the Winter Dance, but something told him doing so would be a mistake.


    His thoughts otherwise occupied, it came as a surprise when he looked up and saw a familiar sign.


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    ¡°Gnorman¡¯s Family Jewels?¡± Sara said with a grin tugging at her lips. ¡°How quaint.¡±


    Entering the shop, Verrian nearly laughed at the wide-eyed looks from the girls as their eyes darted from one wonder to the next. Having grown up coming into the store on a regular basis, Verrian realized that he had grown jaded. Seeing the wonder in his friends'' eyes reminded him just how skilled Gnorman truly was. There were stones and gems cut into thousands of shapes tastefully displayed throughout the room.


    One statue that seemed to have caught Rebecca¡¯s eye was a lapis lazuli statue of a sea creature leaping out of the water. Syranna seemed entranced by the rainbows that several of the gemstones were casting in part due to the small lights positioned near them for full effect. Walking over to where Olivia stood, Verrian saw her staring at a pair of simple stone heart necklaces, one said ¡°Together,¡± and the other ¡°Forever.¡± Shawnrik moved from whatever he had been looking at towards where Verrian and Olivia were standing, and Verrian noticed that she quickly found something else to investigate. Not sure if he should give his roommate a heads up¡ªor a warning¡ªVerrian decided to keep his mouth shut. Olivia was his friend too, and if she wasn¡¯t comfortable with the idea yet he wasn¡¯t going to be the one to push either of them.


    Gnorman came bustling out of the back room and managed a rather entertaining double take as he cleaned his hands on the rag that he kept at the desk. A look of mischief came over the old Gnome¡¯s face and Verrian groaned internally.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry ladies, are these hooligans bothering you? They didn¡¯t kidnap you, did they?¡±


    ¡°Gnorman, I presume?¡± Olivia said moving towards the counter. As he nodded she continued, ¡°While these brutes might have thoughts that run contrary to what we might deem to be acceptable¡­¡±


    ¡°One never knows until they ask,¡± Vivianne said in not quite a whisper.


    ¡°¡­ I assure you that we are here of our own volition.¡± Olivia continued, pointedly ignoring her friend¡¯s interjection.


    Verrian felt his cheeks flush as Vivianne winked at him from across the room. Gnorman for his part was barely managing to suppress a fit of laughter at his discomfort. ¡°That so?¡± he continued, forcing his expression to become serious once again. ¡°Well, I can tell you some stories about that scrawny one¡­¡±


    Gnorman looked over and seemed to notice that Verrian wasn¡¯t quite as scrawny as he had been four Eightdays ago. While he had only gained a few pounds, it was a noticeable difference on his lean frame.


    ¡°Whatever you are doing to yourself, don¡¯t stop!¡± Gnorman said, coming around the corner, moving in a circle around Verrian. ¡°Has your father seen this?¡±


    ¡°No sir,¡± Verrian said. ¡°Shawnrik has been helping me train, and he convinced me to take some physical classes with him. The first few Eightdays were terrible, but I¡¯m starting to feel a difference.¡± He flexed his arm, feeling the strength it possessed. Compared to Shawnrik¡¯s arms, his looked pathetic, but he took solace in the fact that even Instructor Boulette looked weak when compared to Shawnrik; anyone who had ever taken his class knew the man was anything but weak.


    ¡°Great!¡± Gnorman said clapping his hands excitedly, like Verrian had just given him a performance. ¡°I won¡¯t say a word to him, but I want to be there when he sees you for the first time.¡± He laughed as he moved back behind the counter. ¡°That will probably be around the end of the first term, if tradition holds, I¡¯m assuming. Somewhere around your birthday?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my best guess,¡± Verrian said, trying not to get embarrassed. He knew his father cared for him, but he also knew that on the list of important things in his father¡¯s life he probably ranked in the teens. ¡°We usually have a dinner somewhere between my birthday and the Festival of Life.¡±


    Rebecca came up beside him and grabbed his arm. ¡°Most of us won¡¯t see our parents until after the Festival of Life, or next year if we decide not to go home during the breaks.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but our parents don¡¯t live a league away,¡± Vivianne said from a corner of the room, her voice subdued.


    ¡°I¡¯ve said much the same thing to the man on several occasions, but he loves his numbers more than he likes good company,¡± Gnorman said. ¡°Now, I didn¡¯t mean to bring the mood down. I assume you and the behemoth are here to see how our little project is going?¡±


    ¡°Behemoth?¡± Shawnrik said.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t take offense lad, I meant it in the nicest way possible.¡± Gnorman adjusted his glasses. ¡°Just don¡¯t¡­ lean on anything.¡±


    Sara let out a small burst of laughter at Shawnrik¡¯s look of affront and turned to go find something to look at near the store''s front window. Gnorman turned around and headed for the other room. The only indication of his mirth was the slight up and down movement his shoulders made. Olivia walked over to Shawnrik and took his hand.


    ¡°Well, you are kind of¡­¡±


    ¡°Gigantic?¡± Vivianne supplied.


    ¡°Huge?¡± Rebecca said, trying to be helpful.


    ¡°A Goliath?¡± Syranna laughed.


    ¡°¡­Imposing?¡± Olivia said, shooting her friends a dirty look.


    ¡°Oh, imposing, that¡¯s much better.¡± Shawnrik sighed.


    ¡°Cheer up,¡± Verrian interjected. ¡°At least you aren¡¯t ever going to get bullied.¡±


    ¡°Bullied?¡± Gnorman said as he re-entered the room carrying two small boxes. ¡°Nah, Shawnrik will probably never get bullied, but he¡¯ll have something worse to contend with. There will always be someone there taking his size and stature as a challenge. Just remember to not take it personally, my boy; vanity is a sin most of us have fallen prey to at one time or another.¡±


    Verrian realized that Gnorman was right. He had been so wrapped up in his own sorrows that he didn¡¯t realize that there were negative sides to any position. The old Gnome placed the two boxes on the countertop and pulled the lids back. Inside each box was a single earring, each nearly identical to the other. Looking into the beautifully inset stone, Verrian felt as if he should recognize the pattern.


    ¡°It looks like a Dragon¡¯s eye,¡± Shawnrik stated before picking up the box nearest him.


    ¡°Right you are, my lad,¡± Gnorman said, leaning in towards the boys as they examined his handiwork. ¡°Now, if you come to the back room we¡¯ll poke a hole in ye.¡±


    ¡°Now?¡± Verrian said, placing his hand on his ear. ¡°I thought it would be closer to the dance.¡±


    Gnorman laughed as he followed Shawnrik into the back room. ¡°Your ear needs time to adjust to having something foreign inside of it. It is better that you don¡¯t leak any pus on one of these fine young ladies'' dresses.¡±


    ¡°Ughh.¡± Vivianne made a noise deep in her throat and began to push him towards the back room. ¡°Get in there you big baby, it only hurts a little.¡±


    Dracair Territory


    Death¡¯s Edge Forest


    ¡°For a while there I thought we would never see the end of this durned forest,¡± Corporal Jameson said from beside her.


    ¡°Durned? You¡¯ve been around Mcdowell too long,¡± Elandria whispered back with a snort.


    ¡°The man has a point, though. It is nice to see something besides trees and rustling bushes in every direction, even if our new scenery is a town in Dracair controlled territory,¡± Trenton Grimbash said his voice rumbling through the tree he was propped up against.


    ¡°You lot on your first scout?¡± Sergeant Mcdowell asked, moving through the brush unheard by any but Elandria.


    The Dwarf might be getting up there in years, but he was still one of the most skilled men that Elandria had ever met who wasn¡¯t at least a General. She still wasn¡¯t sure how he managed to move so quietly while wearing all that metal.


    ¡°Elandria couldn¡¯t shoot an arrow into that little hamlet over yonder,¡± Rundig said, the antithesis of Mcdowell¡¯s quiet and control. ¡°I could chop down a tree and they probably wouldn¡¯t hear it.¡±


    ¡°I assure you that even if they did not, something would. Have you noticed that there are no cut trees anywhere along the tree line? I have seen few towns with an overabundance of building materials near them not take advantage of such a boon.¡± Warren breathed in deeply. ¡°These people can either feel that this forest is protected, or they have learned the lesson the hard way in ages past.¡±


    ¡°Where are those twins?¡±


    ¡°Well, Jameson, they are probably shacking up with some village girls just to spite you. I¡¯m sure Za¡¯kereth wooed one of them with his magic tricks, and Za¡¯erath probably won the affections of some nubile vixen by healing her poor old grandma.¡± Trenton goaded in a rare show of humor.


    ¡°Damn, I didn¡¯t even think of that,¡± Jameson said, ¡°You don¡¯t think¡­¡±


    ¡°Those Grey Elves are professionals,¡± Mcdowell said. ¡°They¡¯d at least wait until they reported back to us first.¡±


    ¡°They had to go several miles north before they swung around onto that dirt track these people call a road before they could go into town, and I¡¯m assuming they left town in much the same manner. It could be awhile before we hear anything.¡± Elandria swatted at a buzzing insect. ¡°Warren, can¡¯t you do anything about these bugs?¡±


    ¡°I could ask some spiders to make their webs around us, if you wish; I noticed several well-constructed cobwebs this morning on my walkabout.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, no spiders,¡± Trenton cringed. ¡°Those little creepy things make my skin crawl.¡±


    ¡°Like any spider could bite through that thick hide of yours.¡± Elandria laughed for a moment, but a sound to the south made her freeze.


    ¡°Actually¡­¡± Warren started before he saw Elandria¡¯s hand raised, commanding silence. ¡°Ahh, it seems we have company,¡± he whispered. ¡°Two people, from what I¡¯m sensing from the forest.¡±


    Elandria knew that he couldn¡¯t tell if it was the Grey Elf twins. The trees and shrubs couldn¡¯t tell who was moving through them, just that there was something there. She unlimbered her bow and quickly strung it with a well-practiced ease. Moving away from the group, Elandria darted from cover to cover while her companions began to stretch in case a battle was about to begin. She heard them talking before she saw them, but maintained her cover just in case something was awry.


    ¡°¡­you notice that no one was smiling? Not even the kids.¡±


    ¡°That town councilor was smiling.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but that wasn¡¯t a real smile. That was more of a predatory smile that said, ¡®how can I use these fools to my advantage?¡¯¡± Za¡¯erath said.


    ¡°True, that bastard is just as slimy as dad was.¡± Za¡¯kereth mumbled. ¡°We should be getting close to where the rest of the Vigilantes were waiting. I¡¯ll be glad to sit down for a little while.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll just be glad to talk to people who understand your sarcasm. Trying to lead that idiot around all of your little verbal jabs was exhausting.¡±


    ¡°I was trying to knock the oaf down a peg or two, but I don¡¯t think the jackass caught on to one of my rather witty retorts. I almost slapped him in the face just to see if he understood that.¡± Za¡¯kereth sighed. ¡°It is so difficult to talk to the stupid, especially when they have a high opinion of themselves.¡±


    ¡°Now you know how I feel,¡± Elandria said from her hidden position a few feet from the pair. They both froze for a half second before their natural instincts were overridden by their training, each throwing their hands up in a manner that would be threatening to anyone who knew anything about Shapers.


    ¡°Elandria, it would be a shame to have that beautiful face marred by scorch marks,¡± Za¡¯kereth said as he lowered his hands.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure Za¡¯erath would fix me up well enough that I could get along in polite company.¡±


    ¡°Not if I die of a heart attack,¡± Za¡¯erath laughed.


    ¡°Mcdowell is waiting for your report,¡± Elandria said, before letting loose several short trills that would alert the rest of the group that friendlies were incoming.


    ¡°Welcome back, boys, how was the village?¡± Warren said with a smile.


    ¡°Oh, charming,¡± Za¡¯kereth declared. ¡°We should really think about coming here on vacation someday. The natives are warm and friendly, and the architecture is simply to die for!¡±


    ¡°That good, huh?¡± Trenton grunted.


    ¡°Better,¡± Za¡¯erath replied. ¡°I¡¯ve seen happier people on a chain gang.¡±


    ¡°Report,¡± the Sergeant barked.


    ¡°First off, this quaint little cluster of joy is called Verge. From what we can tell, the princess hasn¡¯t come through this way yet. Not that it should be surprising if Cantel is right and the Doppelganger took her to Freeport first. I¡¯d say we have a good Eightday or two before we should expect to see any activity if they head this direction,¡± Za¡¯kereth said. ¡°The town councilor we talked to was a right jolly prick and seemed to be the type of idiot that likes to hurt people to make himself feel better. Za¡¯erath isn¡¯t kidding when he says the people aren¡¯t happy. It is like they have never even heard of the word hope.¡±


    ¡°The reports I read before we left said much the same about the people on this side of the border. I don¡¯t understand how the Dracair even manage to maintain whole communities of people with the kinds of laws they enact and the people they put in charge to enforce them,¡± Mcdowell grumbled.


    ¡°People will convince themselves that things could be worse. I¡¯ve seen people live in squalor when they were healthy enough to pull themselves out, just because they don¡¯t realize that they have what it takes to do so,¡± Jameson said. ¡°When you feel that hopeless, just getting through the day is a little victory.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Mcdowell said. ¡°No use standing around lamenting the sentient condition. We need to have eyes on the road to the Northeast, and the road to the Southwest. I¡¯ll have Warren find us a good spot for a command post. While you are at it, see if you can convince some of the local wildlife to do some scouting for us. I want to know the shoe size of every person that enters or leaves that village, and what they last ate. Za¡¯kereth, let¡¯s make our report to Windsbane so he can tell High Lieutenant Commander Theromvore."

 Book Two: Chapter 14 - Cold and Lonely

    it broke.


    What if she doesn¡¯t, though? What if someone asked her this morning while you were trying to figure out the right words? What if she figured since you didn¡¯t ask her yesterday she would ask someone this morning? Shawnrik knew that he was overthinking the whole thing, but he couldn¡¯t stop the thoughts from pouring out. His heart was beating fast, its palpitations the only noise he could hear beyond his own breathing.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    It goes to show that you can never guess which person might give you that little boost you need at the perfect moment.


    Yet.


    Thank you.


    Go back. He realized that somehow, he had taken control of this small form, and that realization made him sick. Instinctually, he knew that what he was doing was wrong, but he also knew that his little furry companion would have died without his intervention. The boy understood that he had burned out the toxin that had been spreading through the creature¡¯s body, but how he had accomplished it, and why it worked were still beyond his knowledge.


    I am Troublefinder.

 Book Two: Chapter 15 - Pershanti

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    run.


    Are you coming or what?


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 Book Two: Chapter 16 - First Strike

    I¡¯m sorry, his eyes said as his body pitched forward, betraying its master''s will.


    You are never going to shoot a bow again. She tried to silence the little voice, to tell it to go away, but the truth was that she was never going to be whole again, and now she was useless.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Klerrah Starlight, and in smaller letters underneath it read Personal Assistant. He tried to examine Klerrah without being completely obvious about it. From what he could tell she looked to be about a head shorter than Verrian, putting her at about the same height as Dunnagan. Unlike his stout Dwarven friend, however, Klerrah was slight and lithe. Shawnrik had the feeling that the woman could pounce on them at any moment.


    My parents. How did random burglars kill them? He realized a moment after he had the thought that he had voiced it aloud when the Headmistress replied.

 Book Two: Chapter 17 - What Lies Beneath

    not let that thing out of its cage unless you are moments away from death.¡±


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    He means us no harm. The boy sent the thought loudly, not knowing the exact location of the intelligence that had been created from his subconscious. In return, he felt a wave of reluctance. Clearly, a part of his mind remembered what had happened to him and didn¡¯t want anything like that to happen again. Pershanti¡¯s reminder that he needed to be careful when dealing with the thing shaped his next thoughts. I appreciate you looking out for me, but Troublefinder obviously trusts whoever this is, and you have seen inside his mind. We are among friends.


    That was impressive to witness. The thought came from outside himself, and he knew it must be the Quaelyne¡¯s mind.


    You could see what happened through the shield? he thought back.


    Not so much see, as feel. The will of the other is strong, but I could feel your battle even through the barrier. A feeling of respect flowed through the connection. Wisdom is knowing when you are overmatched and finding a way to outthink your opponent. He is you, but not. The most primal part of your mind it knows only base things, attack and defense, victory and defeat. Emotions will shape its growth. The more afraid you are, the more control it will have over you. Show it that you are able to handle whatever comes your way and you will eventually become its master.


    I see that you saved the life of my son, the Quaelyne said, sending gratitude and happiness through the link.


    True, but you are fostering this cub, so his actions speak well for you.


    We heard you walking the remembrances, the Quaelyne said, looking towards the boy. Rarely has one seen them so clearly.


    This is common in one so young, though I have rarely heard of one of your kind having the ability. If the Elders agree I will teach you how to walk the remembrances as I teach Troublefinder. As he finished, a small yip of excitement filled the bower and they all felt a quick wave of exaltation rush through them.


    Yes, through the thought share you may pick up on his strongest feelings. He is young yet, and doesn¡¯t know how to share his thoughts, but when a connection is established it is sometimes strong enough that emotions can intrude on the signal.


    Forgive me, that should have been one of the first things we spoke of, but I noticed that you do not have a thing you call yourself so thought it might be rude to bring it up. A wave of thoughts went through them then. First, an image of a smaller silver and black form dropping onto the back of a spider three times his size in order to save his future mate. Next, an image of a slightly larger version of himself staring down a pack of wolves whose pelts gleamed like the night sky. Finally images of him nearly fully grown staring into the challenging eyes of a familiar female, now fully grown, who was half again his size. Dauntless.


    Names are important, Pershanti. He will know when he has found the name he is comfortable with, and in time that too shall be shed when he reaches maturity, as it should be.


    Rest until morning, then I will bring you to the Quaelyne. I will stand guard, in case there is anything hungry enough to brave your flame.


    The other one? She thought. Her eyes went wide as she realized he must be talking about Seargeant Mcdowell.


    They don¡¯t know yet that Bredwin and Drake died last year, and they haven¡¯t caught the twins yet. Elandria put every effort into keeping her face stony so as not to show any sort of reaction as he read off the names. ¡°You have done your homework,¡± she said, figuring it was no use trying to deny the information.

 Book Two: Chapter 18 - Loose Threads

    Good morning, nameless, we should be setting out soon.


    Not enough line of sight, and too many places for an ambush. The thought surprised him, looking around though he realized that was exactly why he felt uncomfortable. Dauntless exhaled abruptly, and if he didn¡¯t know any better he might think the Quaelyne was laughing as the big furry shoulders rose and fell.


    Stop¡­ Dauntless said let out as he released another large exhale.


    Even with all of our strengths, it is sometimes nice to have a clear view of what is coming. Dauntless sent them, a bit of humor bleeding through.


    Looks like your mother isn¡¯t home.


    No, all is well. Sit, rest.


    How is it that you do that? The voice that intruded on his thoughts was not that of Dauntless, but a stronger, more feminine voice.


    It seems to be much like our own ability to communicate, but on a much deeper scale, Dauntless sent.


    He was delving his mind into the ground. It was rather impressive to watch. He was even able to tell that the water that runs beneath us is not clean. From around the corner came an impressive figure. Half again the size of Dauntless, Troublefinder''s mother had a white coat that was zig-zagged with silver streaks.


    Nonsense, you have saved the life of my kit, you are not intruding. I hope that you can find a name in your time with us. I am¡­ Images flashed through his mind. Her staring down a spider three times her size, because the thing had been stealing kits from the village. Slightly larger, she charged into the side of a Twilight Wolf whose pack surrounded the annoying little male that wouldn¡¯t stop following her. Fully grown, she faced down two female Quaelyne after challenging the council for the right to lead her own tribe. ...Relentless.


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    Tonight, you shall meet the other members of the tribe, and tomorrow we shall begin to repay you for all that you have done, and will do. Relentless¡¯s statement had the ring of prophecy to it that sent a shiver down the boy¡¯s spine.


    Engaged then unknown unit outside forest edge of Verge.


    One combatant dead, three captured, two evaded capture.


    Four Dracairei killed in initial engagement.


    Unit identified as Vigilantes.


    Four members of unit whereabouts unknown.


    Enemy killed in action:


    Corporal Jameson; Human, Male


    Enemies captured:


    Sergeant Mcdowell; Dwarf, Male


    Removed from combat by multiple puncture wounds.


    Elandria Nightwind; Elf, Female


    No longer a threat, right arm amputated during combat.


    Rundig Stormhammer; Dwarf, Male


    Removed from combat by dozens of puncture wounds.


    Has not yet succumbed to poison, recommend study if survives.


    Enemies identified but not captured:


    Warren (Surname unknown); Human, Male


    Trenton Grimbash; Half-Ogre, Male


    Both targets fled into forest, current whereabouts unknown.


    Half-Ogre hit by several bolts, likely non-combat operational.


    Squad members not present at engagement:


    Za¡¯kereth and Za¡¯erath; Grey Elven twins, Male


    Former members of the Nightshade clan.


    Bredwin Stoutheart; Dwarf, Male


    Drake Dearborn; Human, Male


    You have no idea, Shawnrik thought before replying. ¡°Only a couple inches in the last year or so.¡± He hoped that his next growth spurt would have the common courtesy of waiting until after the dance, at the very least. The Dean had come and talked to him the day before and told him he didn¡¯t think it was likely to occur until fall at the earliest, and Shawnrik hoped with everything he had that the man was right.

 Book Two: Chapter 19 - The Seeds We Sow

    I can break through.


    How?


    Take the manacles off and give me control. I can fix everything.


    Do not give in. Relentless¡¯s voice broke through the boy''s thoughts like a spear.


    Don¡¯t interfere in this; I can make you all greater than you are.


    As you have already started to do to my son? Relentless growled. Did you even ask his permission before you started to change him?


    I do not require permission! We are greater than¡­


    No! the boy thought, just because we can, doesn¡¯t mean we should.


    Fool, those are the kinds of thoughts that allowed the Mage to have his way with your mind. You restrained me then as well. I was hoping that without the watcher¡¯s training you would be more malleable.


    Focus your mind¡ªyou are this thing''s master. Dauntless said, inserting himself into the battle.


    This was the moment I came to be.


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    What am I seeing? The boy asked.


    This is the time leading up to our birth, before our parents abandoned us.


    This is the first sin of our creation.


    First? You mean there are more?


    Watch.


    That is not the problem?¡±


    The second and third sins of my creation, Vitiosi Dei! The deep part of his mind said as the scene faded away.


    I don¡¯t understand. The boy told the voice.


    These beings that are called gods created me in their avarice. I am a defense against their mechanizations. I was created from the memories stored within the blood so that I could protect him until he was able to protect himself.


    Are you saying I¡¯m the champion of three of the gods?


    Gods? Release me from my bondage and we will show them the power of a god.


    What would you do if I were to take off the manacles?


    I would shape these creatures into my pets; they would become strong and be the first soldiers in our war against all those who have done us wrong.


    And how would that make you any different from the beings that created you?


    I didn¡¯t ask to be created!


    So now you are going to force your will upon other sentient beings and shape them to how you think they should be? Never taking into consideration how they might feel about it?


    You are nothing! A shell of what you should be, and even that was too weak to do what needed to be done. Champion of the gods, ha! You are not even the champion of your own mind.


    You may be right for now, but all things change. A collection of minds gathered their wills in order to force the creature back into his cell. The boy watched on in horror as he realized that they were slowly being pushed back.


    Fight, a voice rang out over the chaos, a voice that was now familiar to him because of what the creature in his mind had shown him. The voice of Ragn¨®s was compelling him to fight back, telling him to break the bonds that held him back.


    Yes¡­ fight, another familiar voice rang out. The amusement in Ol¡¯ Thom¡¯s voice sent a chill down his spine.


    We have learned much though, and a great victory has been had. It is worthy of celebration.

 Book Two: Chapter 20 - Gaining Strength

    ¡Þ¡Þ¡Þ


    Nameless! A quiet voice intruded upon his mind. Each of the Quaelyne had a different way of ¡°speaking¡± when they sent their thoughts into his mind, and he had grown to know the voices of each member of the tribe. The voice that was breaking into his thoughts now was not any of them, but he had a feeling he knew who it was simply based on its youthful exuberance.


    I did ... The thought cut out suddenly.


    Focus, Dauntless¡¯s thoughts came; the boy realized that he was now being included into Troublefinder¡¯s lesson. If you lose focus even a little, he will not hear your message.


    Can¡­you¡­hear¡­me?


    Yes! So now I can help too if the angry one gets loose again!


    I think you may need quite a bit more practice before you want to try to tousle with that one. Dauntless said, his thoughts conveying the seriousness of the situation. What we did to help him was extremely dangerous. We could have all been consumed.


    He would never let that happen! Troublefinder said, plopping onto his backside, worn out by the little bit of communication he had accomplished.


    That was our thought as well, and the only reason your mother let us try. If it wasn¡¯t for your friend¡¯s resistance, we would not have won that battle.


    Well, that was unexpected, Dauntless said as he let out a long breath.


    His name is not mine to share, but it seems we have been summoned to a gathering. Apparently there are more of your people than just you in the forest.


    If I am found to be weak or caught unaware, I might lose my position as mate to the leader of the tribe. Dauntless let it be known how he felt about such a thing occurring.


    It would be her right, and if I am not the strongest male to give her pups I would not deserve the position.


    We have been lucky to find each other, Dauntless said, hedging around the idea. I like to think that if I lost it would make her sad for a time. He shook his head, turning to Troublefinder and giving him a soft swat with his large paw. Now is not the time for such thoughts, however. We must prepare the village for our absence and await your mother¡¯s return.


    Dauntless seems to think we should take you boys with us to the gathering. Relentless sent as she came into view.


    It is going to be a learning trip though! Dauntless sent, trying to sound stern, but some of the joy he had at seeing the boys so excited leaked through.


    Somehow one stupid boy following me around has suddenly turned into three. Relentless sent without malice. Alright, let¡¯s go. The nearest tribe is several days journey, and the gathering spot is several days beyond that.


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 Book Two: Chapter 21 - Gathering

    we are having a gathering about interlopers, and you bring another with you? The voice was unfamiliar to him, so he assumed it was from one of the males.


    Bellicose¡­ Another unfamiliar voice tried to cut in, but was interrupted by the first.


    No, this is ridiculous¡­


    Bellicose!


    What?


    He¡¯s listening.


    Rubbish, outsiders can¡¯t¡­


    Um¡­ Sorry. He sent before breaking off his concentration.


    You can do it too!? Troublefinder had gotten better at it over the last few days and no longer needed to stop to send his thoughts.


    I had wondered if you would be able to when we reached the Nexus, but I didn¡¯t expect it to happen this soon, Relentless sent.


    You thought he¡¯d be able to do this? Dauntless sounded a little hurt that she hadn¡¯t shared her hunch with him.


    It was only a theory based on how he interacted with the beast. I believe if it weren¡¯t for the fettering he wears he would have done so before now.


    Come, this is another issue for the gathering, the middle male who the boy thought must be Bellicose sent.


    Yes it is, Relentless sent. You know your people have only been able to see them for a few thousand years now.


    Indeed. At least, those of your people who weren¡¯t members of what your people call the Newcomers.


    The boy has a block in his mind that is keeping all that made him this Victor locked away. Dauntless sent. There is hope that it can be broken down in time, but he is no longer the boy you knew.


    I wonder if she looks different to everyone?


    just a boy.¡±


    You have not been invited to this place, Ethereal. A strong female presence inserted itself into the conversation.


    Quiet, the voice Cypheria had identified as Sovereign sent out loudly.


    No, let him go. He heard as he ran up the amphitheater¡¯s incline.


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    Victor! the boy awoke to Troublefinder¡¯s voice ringing through his mind.


    Don¡¯t call me that, the boy sent back along the connection that Troublefinder had established with his mind.


    Sorry! It is what the men kept calling you during the gathering. Why did you run off? Sovereign said you had a good reason but wouldn¡¯t tell anyone. I think my parents know too but they won¡¯t tell me either.


    I think they realized that, Dauntless sent. In fact, I think that was part of the problem, and why Sovereign decided she needed to call the gathering. Normally the events that transpire on the boundaries of the forest and beyond are considered sacrosanct. The sheer amount of Dracairei that dared to trespass into our territory, however, was a matter for all of the tribes.


    He¡¯s right of course, Relentless chuffed. And that happens with about the same frequency as this type of incursion. She turned to the boy. The fact that you happened to be in the area at the same time was brought up on several occasions as well, and that Ethereal showing up didn¡¯t help your case much with many.


    ¡°Right, so the tribes in their infinite wisdom decided you were to be removed from their territory and are not allowed to return until you¡¯ve managed to tame the beast, whatever that means,¡± Warren said.


    For now, Relentless sent.


    You are going to listen to that Ethereal, even after all that she has done to you? Relentless pawed the ground, sending up a cloud of debris behind her.


    Gods, phaw! Relentless sent and extended her claws. Anyone with enough power can claim to be a god. Those Ethereals are no more a god than you or I.


    Then you had better burn us all at the stake, Dauntless sent, his tongue hanging out of his mouth in mirth. We¡¯ve been trying to tell your people this ever since you...


    The point being, Relentless sent, you shouldn¡¯t trust everything they say. Not only do they enjoy being mysterious, but they are also constrained by their oaths, so there are things they aren¡¯t able to say.


    Yes and no. Relentless sat down. It is the oaths that they took when they became guardians of this world. However, the being your people call the One God is not only not the only one of his kind, but he would also probably be appalled to hear that he is worshipped.


    My people have kept an oral history of this planet for years beyond counting. We were exiled here long ago, shortly after this world formed. The only sentient race that was here at that time was the Dragons, and they had their own tasks to accomplish. Dauntless disappeared into the surrounding foliage as Relentless continued to tell the story. Some enterprising explorers found the planet and because of the ¡°aggressive local wildlife,¡± the planet was deemed inhospitable for colonization. Many years later, the government that had funded the exploration began to drop off a wide variety of life.


    Yes, there is no life on this planet that started here. Species that can likely not be found anywhere else in the universe now call this planet home, but none of them are native. The Ethereals came to this world shortly before the creator returned. The Dragons had continued to see to their task to his satisfaction, but he saw that all of the new races upon the world would eventually lead to destruction. To thwart this he charged the Ethereals with keeping the new races in check. The agreement benefited them greatly¡ªeven if it limited them in some ways¡ªso they agreed. Ever since, they have been trying to skirt the rules while maintaining their personas.


    Energy. For each ¡°follower¡± they have, they are allowed to siphon a tiny bit of energy.


    They are harvesting energy from people, Relentless said, as if the answer were obvious.


    It is going to take several days to reach the town, if we take the druid it could take twice that.


    We should go. The other denizens of the forest seem to think that spring has arrived. No reason to stand around and give them a free meal, Dauntless sent as he roamed back into the clearing.

 Book Two: Chapter 22 - Pursuit

    If they had captured the Sergeant and his body was still here after all that time, then he realized that the Vigilantes were either dead or out of action. Either way, he knew he wasn¡¯t going to have the support that he had been expecting. He was fairly certain he was catching up to the Princess and her captor. Two days before, he had come upon the embers of a small fire, and he was fairly certain that he could travel faster than the Doppelganger could move the Princess.


    Be safe.


    A man was standing on the corner of the square looking in the direction that the others had gone. His expression was downcast, and it was clear that he wanted to follow, but something was keeping him in place. The man looked towards the fire and nearly jumped out of his boots when he saw the boy.


    Well that¡¯s something, at least.¡± The Elf looked towards the fire to speak with the one who looked like a woman. ¡°I saw Stewart Cantel running north with at least six Dracairei hot on his trail.¡±


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    I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m just hungry and looking for food. I didn¡¯t think anyone would be out here,¡± another voice replied. Something seemed familiar about the second voice as well, but she couldn¡¯t place it. Whoever the thief was, they were young.


    Well, this was a dumb plan. Stewart Cantel said to himself as he ran past the burning remains of his lifelong friend. He was fairly certain that at least five of the Dracairei were a block behind him, at most. Several crossbow bolts had been within inches of hitting him as he raced through the streets and out into the country. Once he hit the road he let loose every ounce of speed he had. The Dracairei might be heavily modified killers, but no one was faster than Stewart Cantel.


    His eyes tracked each dip, rut, and rock in the road as he poured on the speed. The sounds of pursuit began to grow distant and he heard the steps stop for a moment. In the next moment, he rolled to the side, dodging a hail of crossbow bolts that tore through where he had just been. His eyes tracked the six bolts as they tore through the air in front of him. Alright, guess I have six on my tail, or someone has two crossbows.


    Stewart ran until his legs began to protest mightily. He knew that the Dracairei were more than likely not far behind; his speed gave him the advantage, but they had stamina in spades. Looking back, he could just make out the vague outline of the six forms running on the road behind him. Knowing he had gone as far as he was likely to go, he turned left off the road and ran for the trees. Rather fitting that we¡¯re going to die in Death¡¯s Edge, he thought.


    Climbing one of the larger trees, he watched as the assassins slowly approached the area where he had entered the forest. A short, raspy discussion ensued. For some reason, a few of them didn¡¯t think it was a good idea to follow him into the forest that was an anathema to their kind. The only words he caught from the conversation were the loudly hissed ¡°¡­remember what happened last time?¡± However, it seemed that their need to kill him outweighed their instincts of self-preservation, as several minutes later they began to trickle into the forest.


    The first of the Dracairei slid silently beneath him on the ground, rousing him from his thoughts. Great time to get lost in your misery you sad old bastard. It was an unkind thought, but it nearly made him laugh, which would have certainly spelled his defeat. As the Dracairei fanned out below, looking for the slightest trace of his passage, he smiled grimly. Birds began to chirp to the north and he realized that the sun was beginning to crest the horizon to the east. He had run through the night, far away from anyone who could render him assistance.


    His dagger bit in deep. He put all of his strength into holding onto it, using it and his momentum to swing around the Dracairei and plant his other dagger in the assassin¡¯s neck. He let go of the first dagger as he and the body hit the ground and pulled his shortsword to lop off the Dracairei¡¯s head. Once removed, he kicked the orb as hard as he could deeper into the forest and continued his escape north. Five to go.


    Something tore through the cloth on his right leg and he felt hot liquid roll down his calf. As much as he hoped it was just sweat, deep down he knew it wasn¡¯t. It was only a graze, but if even a little bit of whatever concoction the Dracairei dipped their weapons in got into the wound, it would only be a matter of time until they had him. Weaving through the trees, he managed to duck out of sight several times, slowing his pursuers who didn¡¯t seem willing to come around a tree trunk and find him waiting. Smart of them.

 Book Two: Chapter 23 - A Dance with Death

    Year: 3045 AGD


    Midwinter Festival


    Serenity Valley


    The Midwinter Festival was finally here, and with it came the dance the entire Institute had been talking about for the past month. Shawnrik was fairly certain he had never felt so nervous before in his life. Surely it was a great day to be alive. He and Verrian had been trying to keep themselves occupied as the hours counted down to when the dance would begin, but each time they found themselves glancing from the clock to the suits that hung up behind each of them and then to each other, and each time they grinned like idiots before trying to focus on the cards in front of them only to repeat the same process a few minutes later.


    That day dragged out forever. Surely this is the longest day anyone has ever lived, Shawnrik thought, unable to imagine circumstances more nerve-racking than this. He won two and lost one long, drawn-out, game of cards before it was time for them to get ready for the dance. They showered and checked their hair in the mirror a dozen times before heading back to their room to change.


    Verrian¡¯s suit was a light blue color just a few shades off from his ring. They had held a long discussion earlier in the day on whether his purple sapphire cufflinks would go well with the suit or not and they had both determined that they didn¡¯t understand fashion well enough to have an opinion. After dressing, they wandered back to the bathroom to make sure that everything looked right, even though they assured each other that they looked fine.


    Waiting for them outside were four very stunning young women. Vivianne stood on the far left wearing a dark orange dress that seemed to be missing a fair amount of fabric on both the top and the bottom. Her shoulders and chest were well displayed, the whole thing was seemingly held aloft by two small strips of cloth. Next to her stood Rebecca, who was wearing a blue dress the same color as her eyes. It was slightly more modest than Vivianne¡¯s dress, higher in the chest, but still showing her shoulders, while the bottom fanned out well past her knees. This dress didn¡¯t have the two strips of fabric that Vivianne¡¯s had, and Shawnrik thought it must be held aloft by magic.


    Next to Rebecca and standing slightly back was Syranna, who was wearing a yellow dress that seemed to be a mix between Rebecca and Vivianne¡¯s dresses. It was lower cut than Shawnrik had ever expected to see on the usually reserved elf, but he thought it made her green eyes sparkle. She kept looking down at herself whenever the hem of her dress brushed her knees. When she saw him looking in her direction, she smiled slightly and took another step back.


    Last but certainly not least, in Shawnrik¡¯s eyes, was Olivia, who wore a silky dress that was closer to red than purple and flowed down around her feet. The top was like Rebecca¡¯s and didn''t have any straps, held aloft by some secret art. She held a long piece of cloth that was made from the same fabric as her dress wrapped around her back and over each wrist. He thought she looked like some sort of gypsy queen.


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that means we look good, too,¡± Vivianne said with a smirk.


    Shawnrik only realized after she spoke that he and Verrian had both stopped walking and stood slack-jawed staring at the girls. Olivia, Rebecca, and Vivianne flowed towards them, smiles lighting their faces, but Syranna¡¯s face was a bright red as she trailed behind the three.


    ¡°Ladies, you all look exquisite tonight,¡± Shawnrik said as he took hold of Olivia¡¯s outstretched arm. ¡°Especially you,¡± he managed to whisper as she took her place beside him.


    ¡°Damn right,¡± she whispered back while her left eyebrow rose slightly.


    ¡°Ladies,¡± Verrian squeaked.


    ¡°Oh look, he¡¯s tongue-tied,¡± Vivianne said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tease him, he might run away,¡± Rebecca replied.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you have to worry about that,¡± Shawnrik said over his shoulder as they began to move towards the hall where the dance was being held.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± Olivia asked with a twinkle of humor in her eye.


    ¡°Do you see that grin on his face? I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any place he¡¯d rather be.¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡± Syranna asked from slightly behind Olivia¡¯s left.


    ¡°Is there any place I¡¯d rather be?¡± Shawnrik¡¯s mind wandered for a moment as he wondered where his friend was now. He shook his head. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Liar.¡± Olivia breathed and looked disappointed for a moment before her smile returned. ¡°Remember, we are living in the now. Let¡¯s make this a night we¡¯ll never forget!¡±


    The people of Verge seemed to take the bonfire in the middle of town as a reason to start the Midwinter Festivities early and had been well into getting themselves good and drunk by the time the boy made it back to them. As luck would have it that had meant that there was a horse left unattended near a building he thought might be an Inn. He had hopped into the saddle of the massive beast and found that his body seemed to know what to do even if his mind didn¡¯t.


    That had been many hours ago, though, and the horse was now in a full lather as they trotted along the roadside. It was late afternoon by the time he saw two specks resolve in front of him on the road ahead. As he neared them, he let out a sigh of frustration. He didn¡¯t know what Stewart Cantel looked like, since he had only caught a glimpse of the man from a distance in the dark, but he had a feeling that the man he had seen wouldn¡¯t be casually strolling down the road heading north. Not only that, but the man had a girl who he thought might be around the same age as himself with him.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± the boy said as he brought the horse to a walk.


    ¡°Yes, young man, how may I help you?¡± the man asked as he turned, annoyance flickering across his features.


    The girl¡¯s mouth dropped open for a moment before the man dropped his hand on her shoulder. She flinched and looked up at him before looking down.


    ¡°Sorry to bother you, but have you seen a man go by? He might have been followed by a dozen men.¡±


    ¡°No, we haven¡¯t seen anything like that, have we Ana?¡± The man squeezed the girl¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°No, nothing like that,¡± the girl said keeping her eyes pointed towards the ground.


    Something was off about these two, but whatever it was he didn¡¯t have time for it right now. Cantel must have left the road somewhere along the way. If the boy was lucky, he might be ahead of the pursuit. Of course, if he wasn¡¯t lucky the man would already be dead, and the boy would be lost in the forest for hours.


    ¡°Here,¡± the boy said as he dismounted. ¡°I have been riding at a trot fairly steadily for half a day now, so you might want to give her a lot of rest before you try to use her.¡± He handed the surprised man the reigns.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± the girl asked, her tone slightly odd.


    ¡°Into the forest to see an old friend, I suppose.¡±


    The two stood there looking at him like he was mad for a moment before he turned and started towards the trees at a jog. Once he neared the forest he spoke. ¡°Hey Cypheria, if you are paying attention, mind giving me a signal on which way to go?¡± A moment passed, he sighed. Then, a loud crack like a tree limb breaking came from the southwest. That works.


    Stewart Cantel had been fairly certain he was about to die. He had managed to take out two more of the assassins in the last few hours, but three of the Dracairei were still alive. One of the Dracairei had managed to get ahead of him and sprung out of the bushes in a spot where there was a large tree blocking the path to either side. He had turned around to see another Dracairei standing on a tree branch ten feet behind him.


    Taking a deep breath, he was about to engage the one on the ground and try to break through him when suddenly the branch that the one in the tree had been standing on snapped. The assassin tried to grab another nearby branch but missed. He tried to tuck into a roll as he hit, but one of the smaller branches from the fallen limb caught his shoulder and tossed him several feet into a heap. It wasn¡¯t much of an opening, but it was enough for Stewart Cantel to break free from the trap and continue the running battle.


    He tossed a dagger at the Dracairei that had managed to cut him off, and in the same instant he began moving again. Though he was loath to lose any more of his daggers¡ªhe was running low on them¡ªit was a necessary loss. The assassin attempted to grab the dagger out of the air, but only managed to bump the end of the blade as it sailed past his hand. That bump managed to change what could have been a potentially fatal hit into an annoying distraction as the blade penetrated the Dracairei¡¯s upper arm.


    Knowing he didn¡¯t have time to stop and finish either one of them off, especially because there was a third assassin somewhere nearby, Stewart Cantel ran off into the trees. His body was far beyond the point of exhaustion, but every time he thought it would give out on him he managed to pull just a little bit more from it. One way or another, this pursuit needed to end soon. Patting his body as he ran he realized he only had three daggers left out of the twelve he had begun the day with.


    Cantel saw a flash of movement coming from the left, and that was the only warning he had as the third Dracairei leapt at him. Managing to grab the assassin''s outstretched wrist, he used the Dracairei¡¯s momentum against him and stepped to the side as the man flew through the air. A sickening crack sounded from the assassin''s hand, and the dagger he had been holding fell to the ground. To the Dracairei¡¯s credit he didn¡¯t flinch as his wrist broke, instead bringing his other arm around to strike.


    A sharp pain jolted through Cantel from just under his right armpit. Cantel''s short sword erupted out of the assassin¡¯s chest as he impaled the man from behind. The dagger in his side fell out to the ground, its tip crimson. He was suddenly having issues breathing. The bastard punctured a lung. Knowing his time was up, he looked around for a better place to meet the two assassins that were left.


    Knowing there were up to seven highly trained killers running around in the forest somewhere ahead made him take each movement from tree to tree very seriously. After running around on the ground for some time, the boy realized that he would never be able to see anything moving through the forest unless it was right on top of him, so he climbed a tree and began to move along the intersecting branches as best he could.


    He caught sight of movement ahead and managed to catch the tail end of a short human¡ªwho he thought must be Stewart Cantel¡ªfighting a Dracairei. This Dracairei and the one he had seen earlier this morning in Verge looked different from the ones he had seen in his vision from the Mage Tyrdra. They were much less reptilian looking and would be more difficult to tell what they were if you just caught a glimpse of them.


    The Dracairei had managed to stick his dagger in the human¡¯s side, but he opened himself up to attack as he did so. Cantel managed to pull one of his short swords with his left hand and rammed it into the assassin''s back. After a few moments, he looked around quickly and headed towards a stand of closely grouped trees and put his back to them, pulling out his other sword.


    The man didn¡¯t look like he was doing too well. There were a dozen places all across his body where the clothing was cut and stained crimson. Although the boy knew that some of that blood wasn¡¯t the man¡¯s, enough of it was that it had taken its toll on his body. Not only that, but the man seemed to be having trouble breathing, because he winced slightly every time he took in a breath.


    Moving with more caution than he ever had before, the boy crept along the uppermost tree branches to try to get a view of the fight that Cantel seemed to know was coming. After a dozen long heartbeats, two forms slid out of the bushes and began to stalk towards the lone human.


    ¡°Come on then, which of you wants to join me in death first?¡± Stewart Cantel asked, his face a mask of determination.


    ¡°Be honored, High Commander¡ªI have never heard of a man killing so many of our kind by himself. Your efforts will be remembered,¡± one of the Dracairei said with a note of respect in his voice.


    ¡°Yeah, well that implies one of you is going to live to tell the tale,¡± Cantel replied with a grin.


    The two Dracairei snarled, each holding a pair of daggers as they rushed forward to meet the High Commander of the Protectorate. As they moved forward, each step they took seemed to make them move slower until the point where they were still several steps away from the man and they seemed to be crawling through the air. Looking down, he noticed that the man¡¯s movements were also barely perceptible.


    Suddenly, the action rushed back into full speed and the Dracairei leapt at Stewart Cantel in a flurry of strikes. Cantel held them off well for several seconds, but it was clear who was going to win. The High Commander struck at one, taking him in the thigh, but the other moved in and slit his throat. With a look of surprise, Stewart Cantel slid to the ground in defeat.


    Remove one of the manacles and we can save him.


    An intense vertigo struck the boy as what he had just seen dissolved in front of him to be replaced by the Dracairei rushing in once again to attack the High Commander. This time the fight lasted a while longer as Stewart Cantel took a more defensive position and used the space to his advantage. He managed to divert one of the assassin''s strikes wide and took a shot in the arm from the other Dracairei before impaling the one who had struck him with his short sword. A moment later, the other Dracairei hopped on his back and slit his throat. Once again, the High Commander slid to the ground in defeat.


    You know what needs to be done.


    Different scenarios played out before his eyes again and again, and in each one the High Commander died; no matter what Stewart Cantel tried, he ended up cold on the ground. In one of the images, he was able to get a killing blow on both of the Dracairei, but in doing so he had taken two daggers and died with them. In only one of the flashes did the High Commander manage to escape the fight alive, and it was the one that scared the boy the most.


    After witnessing the fight a dozen times, the boy blinked and saw the assassins once again moving slowly towards the High Commander. Reaching down he pulled with all of his might and the manacle on his left wrist broke into two parts. Do it!


    He felt the creature¡¯s excitement as it began to pull in the energy it needed. His perception shifted as his mind connected with the tree he was standing on, and then with the tree next to it, and finally to the third tree in the stand. The first blows of the fight were about to begin when suddenly several tree branches shot forth and impaled the assassins, dragging their bodies towards the trunks of the two outer trees. The trunks of the trees opened wide like a horrible wooden maw and then closed on the bodies of the assassins as the branches placed them inside.


    ¡°What in the nine hells?¡± Stewart Cantel said as he watched the trees eat his opponents. The High Commander looked all around himself for a moment before finally looking up. Recognition dawned on his face, followed by several other emotions that finally settled back onto determination.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Well, shit,¡± Cantel said as he stared up at the boy. ¡°I should have known you¡¯d show up at the strangest time.¡± He pointed to the trees that were now oozing with the blood of the Dracairei. ¡°What the hell was that?¡±


    The boy was surprised to find that the creature released its hold on his mind with a contented sigh after the two assassins were dealt with, and it took him a few moments to form his thoughts into words.


    ¡°That¡­¡± the boy said, ¡°¡­was me saving your life.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well thanks, but sorry to disappoint you, but unless you know how to repair a punctured lung and stop that crap they have on their weapons that is making my feet and side all tingly, I think you¡¯ve only prolonged my death for a short while.¡± The High Commander put his back against the trunk of the tree that hadn¡¯t eaten an assassin and slid down to have a seat.


    Dropping to the ground, the boy picked up the two halves of his manacle and wrapped it back around his arm. A thin light appeared for a moment, and when it died out a line of silver ran from one end of the manacle to the other. He sighed in relief.


    ¡°You mean I went to all that trouble to find you and you are just going to die on me anyway?¡± the boy asked. ¡°What¡¯s the point of that? Why did Cypheria even tell me to go after you then?¡±


    Stewart Cantel¡¯s eyes went wide when the boy mentioned Cypheria, but a moment later realization dawned on him. ¡°That clever bitch.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Well, there is a way I might be able to continue helping you even after I¡¯m dead¡­¡± Stewart Cantel said as he reached for his pack.


    Serenity Valley


    A steady flow of well-dressed students made their way towards one of the larger buildings on campus. He knew that it was usually used as one of the cafeterias on campus. It was close to the girl¡¯s dorms, so that was who used it most, but it could also be used by any of the students who had classes on the eastern end of the campus. This term he hadn¡¯t had any classes near enough to the building to take any of his meals there, and therefore he had yet to be inside.


    ¡°Do they use this building for any classes?¡± Shawnrik asked as they turned onto the walkway that led to the large double doors at the front of the building.


    ¡°There are some dance classes,¡± Olivia said. ¡°Ballet, ballroom dancing, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°It is also used for gymnastics,¡± Syranna said from behind.


    Shawnrik had tried to get the quiet Elf to move up beside Olivia, but she had quietly fallen back behind shortly thereafter.


    ¡°Gymnastics are physical conditioning courses; they require a great amount of strength and agility to be able to perform,¡± Verrian supplied. He was getting pretty good at knowing when Shawnrik was about to ask what something was.


    ¡°Really?¡± Shawnrik said. ¡°That sounds interesting.¡±


    ¡°You should see Syranna do some of her routines, it is pretty impressive,¡± Rebecca said.


    Syranna made a sound that almost made him think she was strangling for a second, and when he turned around she was bright red.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see that,¡± Shawnrik said.


    ¡°There¡¯s an exhibition at the end of each term you could go to,¡± Vivianne said. Shawnrik couldn¡¯t see her face, but her tone was the same one she used when she found something funny.


    ¡°Stop it, all of you,¡± Olivia said, gripping Shawnrik¡¯s arm a little tighter. ¡°Didn¡¯t you guys decide that Verrian, Rebecca, and Vivianne should enter first?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± Shawnrik said as he followed Olivia to the side of the trail as they neared the doors.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Verrian said, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. Shawnrik knew that his roommate was in good enough condition to not be sweating from the walk across campus, so he knew Verrian was nervous.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Shawnrik said. ¡°We¡¯ll be right behind you.¡±


    Verrian nodded.


    ¡°Do you want to go in with them Syr?¡± Olivia asked Syranna.


    ¡°No, I¡¯ll just slip in behind you guys, if that¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Olivia said, giving her friend a small smile that seemed almost sad to Shawnrik.


    They entered the building several steps behind Verrian and the girls. Shawnrik had never seen a building like this one. It was kind of like the building that they ate their meals in everyday, but several times larger. Not only that, but instead of a stone floor the flooring looked to be wood that had been waxed to a sheen. There were thousands of students in the massive hall, but it didn¡¯t feel crowded and there was plenty of room to move about still. The stone walls on the inside of the building had been painted with various murals of sprawling vistas that he thought he would like to look at without all of the people in the room.


    When Verrian entered, heads began to turn in his direction as people began to nudge their neighbors. Normal conversation died out, replaced by a dull roar of whispered conversations. Shawnrik was proud of his roommate, who kept his head up and walked into the room like he owned the place. Rebecca and Vivianne moved a little closer to Verrian and smiled brightly as the heads began to turn in their direction.


    Olivia had stopped Shawnrik before the doorway, allowing Verrian and his dates to draw the attention of the room fully before she gave his arm a squeeze and started walking. Her bearing was regal as she began to move forward, and Shawnrik straightened his back and tried being a match to her as much as possible. There was no doubt in his mind that he failed to look anywhere near as magnificent as she did, but he felt he owed her the attempt.


    The whispers that had followed Verrian into the room died out as Shawnrik and Olivia entered. The hateful looks that the men in the room had been throwing the Half-Elf were replaced by wide eyed stares. From the looks on many of their faces Shawnrik, wished he could see their entrance from the perspective of the rest of the students.


    As they moved deeper into the room, a voice broke the silence.


    ¡°Oh look, Aerick¡¯s son has graced us with his presence.¡±


    Shawnrik knew the voice immediately and turned his head to face the Stroml¡¯dier.


    ¡°I¡¯ve given you a dozen opportunities to talk to me over the last month, and this is where you decide you want to do this?¡± Shawnrik sighed and moved his body so that he was in between Rigael and Olivia.


    ¡°You come into this school and act all high and mighty,¡± Rigael said. ¡°Even the Headmistress makes a big deal about it on the first day¡­¡±


    ¡°I had no idea she was going to do that.¡± Shawnrik tried to maintain a calm composure.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t special.¡± Rigael poked his finger into Shawnrik¡¯s chest as he stepped forward. ¡°Your father wasn¡¯t special either, even if he and the rest of the world thought so.¡±


    Shawnrik noticed several bulky forms making their way through the crowd behind Rigael as he replied. ¡°I don¡¯t expect anyone to treat me any differently from anyone else. However, I do expect a certain amount of respect.¡± His fists clenched. ¡°If you want to talk about the differences our fathers had you know where to find me, but we''re not talking about it here and now.¡±


    Rigael snarled and pulled back his arm. A large meaty hand grabbed the Stroml¡¯dier''s arm before he could throw the punch, however.


    ¡°Apprentice of Dunnagan, is this young barbarian bothering you?¡± the Orc who held Rigael¡¯s arm in place asked calmly as two other Orcs stepped up behind him and folded their arms. Rigael tried to move his arm, but the Orc was obviously much stronger than the young Stroml¡¯dier. After a moment, he gave up trying to free his arm and stared daggers at the Orc holding his arm.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t your fight, Blood Orc,¡± Rigael spat.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that this is anyone¡¯s fight,¡± the Orc replied. ¡°I also don¡¯t believe that this is the time or a place for such a thing, even if your reasons were valid.¡±


    Looking around at all the eyes on him, Rigael looked like he might put up a fight anyway, but then his gaze locked with the disappointed look on his sister¡¯s face, and his head fell slightly.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Rigael said, tugging his arm free as the Orc loosened his hold. ¡°This conversation isn¡¯t over though, son of Aerick.¡± With that, he turned and pushed his way out of the room.


    ¡°Poor young man, all of that hate and he¡¯s directing it towards the wrong people,¡± the Orc said quietly as Rigael left.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Shawnrik said. ¡°Thank you for the help. Without your intervention, it would have turned into a brawl and ruined the night.¡± He stuck out his hand.


    ¡°It''s of no consequence,¡± the Orc said. ¡°We have heard from Thaddius about you, and wanted to meet the man who Dunnagan chose to teach for ourselves anyway.¡± The three Orcs placed their right arms over their chests and bowed slightly. ¡°If you ever have need of us, we will be there.¡±


    Shawnrik stared at the trio, unsure what to say for a few moments. Before he could ask them their names, they had turned and began to move back through the crowd.


    ¡°Well, that could have gone a lot worse.¡± Olivia said, moving up beside him. ¡°It¡¯s nice to know Thaddius hasn¡¯t forgotten about us.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I never thought I¡¯d ever be grateful to another Orc,¡± Shawnrik said as he watched the backs of his retreating benefactors. Knowing that there was one cultured Orc out in the world had required Shawnrik to change his view of the world, but not nearly so much as the confirmation that there was indeed an entire tribe of them. Shaking off his newest revelation, Shawnrik turned to his date and in a loud enough voice that those near him could hear as well he said. ¡°I believe this is supposed to be a dance?¡±


    The music started up not long after and Shawnrik offered his hand to Olivia, who accepted is elegantly. It would be their first of many dances together that evening.


    ¡°So, what you are saying is that if I read this scroll, the Arch Magus of the Protectorate is going to show up and put you inside of me?¡± the boy asked. He hoped his tone told the High Commander exactly what he thought about the idea.


    ¡°In so many words, yes,¡± Stewart Cantel replied. ¡°Though he¡¯s not really going to show up, it will just be a projection of his will. I¡¯m not certain exactly all that he can accomplish with this Shaping, but I think it will work. This is something that has been done to quite a few of the High Commanders in the past when a new High Commander takes over.¡±


    ¡°And why would I want to do this? I already have one voice in my head that doesn¡¯t like to behave.¡±


    Stewart Cantel raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh?¡±


    The boy sighed. ¡°It is a long story. Suffice to say, the gods did something stupid at my birth and my mind created a self-defense mechanism to blunt the damage. That¡¯s who took care of those Dracairei that were attacking you, and no I have no idea how he did it.¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, that sounds like another reason for you to do this, then. I might be able to help you keep it contained. With my will and yours combined, we should be able to at least put it back in its cage if it does get loose.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, maybe. It took a whole tribe of Quaelyne to help me do it last time. I have no idea why he isn¡¯t in control right now. He seemed satisfied after he made those trees eat the assassins, though.¡± He looked down at the new line of silver running across each side of his left manacle. ¡°These things seem to help keep him contained as well.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t those the manacles that you were trying to steal when Nim found you?¡± Stewart asked.


    ¡°Oh right, you don¡¯t know that part yet either,¡± the boy said. ¡°I don¡¯t have any memories from before I woke up in a mine north of here sometime last year. None that are mine, at least.¡±


    The High Commander let loose a string of curses. ¡°You mean you came all the way out here and helped me without even remembering who I was?¡±


    ¡°You and the old squad,¡± the boy replied. ¡°Za¡¯erath and Za¡¯kereth were rescuing Elandria and Rundig when I left. I helped them draw one of the Dracairei out and then came after you.¡±


    Stewart Cantel stared at him for a moment before he began to laugh. It turned into a wracking cough a few moments later, but even without air in his lungs he continued to laugh.


    ¡°Hey, I did help!¡± the boy said, thinking that the High Commander was laughing at him.


    ¡°No,¡± Stewart Cantel breathed out, trying to get his laughter and breathing under control. ¡°I¡¯m laughing because even without your old memories, you are just as reckless and courageous as you were when I first met you.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± the boy said. ¡°That¡¯s alright then.¡±


    ¡°Now,¡± the High Commander said as he took a shallow breath. ¡°I can feel this crap creeping through my body, so it might be best if you get on with it if you are going to. Otherwise, I¡¯d appreciate it if you¡¯d help me end it quickly.¡±


    Faced with the choice of having to kill the man or have him riding around in his head, he decided that he would rather not have to stab the High Commander. ¡°Alright,¡± the boy said as he began to unroll the scroll. He knew he had never seen anything like the flowing script that unrolled before him, but he also understood every character.


    Speaking the words slowly, he felt a tingling run up his hands and stop at his wrists, which began to heat up way too quickly. Suddenly, the bottom of the left manacle fell apart right where the line of silver was and the right manacle began to crack and break apart as well. As the right manacle began to break loose he tried to stop speaking, afraid that whatever was contained inside of him would get loose if the manacle fell, but found he was unable to stop the incantation.


    With a loud clatter, the right manacle fell to the ground. Now, both of his silvery wrists were exposed to the world. He could see the High Commander looking at the silver scales with interest before a blindingly bright light burst from the scroll.


    ¡°Well, Stewart, I can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised you had to use this,¡± a glowing shape of a man said. The man was currently facing away from them, and as he turned the resolute face of the Arch Magus turned to surprise. ¡°Victor? What in the name of all that is good and holy are you doing?¡±


    ¡°It was my idea,¡± Stewart Cantel said weakly. ¡°I told him to use it. I want you to take as many useful things from me and give them to him.¡±


    ¡°Really?" the Arch Magus asked. His tone told them that he was more intrigued than put out by the idea. The transparent image of the Arch Magus stood for a moment in quiet thought. ¡°He¡¯s too young, so I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to do much physically. Maybe not even mentally if his brain hasn¡¯t developed enough.¡±


    ¡°Just do what you can,¡± the High Commander said.


    ¡°Is that an order, Stewart?¡± the grinning form of the Arch Magus said.


    Stewart gave a grunting laugh. ¡°As if I could ever order you to do anything¡ªeven if you are technically under my command.¡±


    ¡°Ah, wisdom in the final moments of life; it''s a pity it took so long.¡±


    ¡°Gallows humor, Simon, really?¡±


    ¡°Live as long as I have and you see a lot of friends die,¡± the Arch Magus said, his smile faltering. ¡°Sometimes I think it is the only humor I have left.¡±


    ¡°Cry me a river, you old goat,¡± Stewart Cantel said, which drew a short laugh from the Arch Magus. ¡°I¡¯m the one dying here. This is my pity party; go find your own on your own time.¡±


    ¡°You two are odd,¡± the boy said.


    ¡°Victor my boy, you should know that already,¡± Simon Windsbane said.


    ¡°Memory block,¡± Stewart said. ¡°Wow, I bet you are tired of explaining that to people.¡±


    ¡°You have no idea.¡±


    ¡°Well, that makes things even more interesting,¡± the Arch Magus said. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get to work and see what we can do here.¡±


    The tingling sensation started in the boy¡¯s arm again as the image of the Arch Magus reached out to touch him. This time, however, it quickly spread throughout his body. He felt a compulsion to move over next to Stewart Cantel and his body responded almost instantly. Arch Magus Simon Windsbane reached out with his other ethereal hand and placed it on Stewart Cantel¡¯s forehead. They stood like that for several minutes as the Arch Magus studied each of them.


    The boy was expecting the thing that lived inside his mind to lash out or try to block the Arch Magus, but the attack never came. Before he could even begin to wonder at the creature¡¯s motives, the ghostly image of the Arch Magus stepped back, cutting off its contact.


    ¡°Alright, we can do this,¡± the Arch Magus said. ¡°His brain is definitely far enough developed to handle the transfer. In fact, if I didn¡¯t know any better, I might even say it has developed in just such a way to be able to handle such things with ease.¡±


    ¡°Maybe the gods know what they are doing after all,¡± Stewart Cantel said.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± the Arch Magus said, though his voice didn¡¯t sound like he thought it was likely. ¡°Either way, we can continue with the procedure. I¡¯m afraid that there isn¡¯t much I can do physically. He¡¯s still developing, and it looks like he¡¯s going to be quite the warrior when he¡¯s finished regardless. However, I can deposit samples of your muscles and blood so that his body can incorporate them into his growth and perhaps develop some of that speed you are renowned for.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s better than nothing,¡± Stewart Cantel said. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± He closed his eyes for a moment. ¡°Also, would you tell Elyse that I¡¯m dead, so she can take command, or at least try to foist it onto Nim¡¯s shoulders?¡±


    ¡°I can do that, my friend. It has been an honor.¡± Turning to the boy, he said. ¡°This is going to hurt, but I¡¯ll do what I can to limit the pain. I will also attempt to do what I can for the block in your memories, but without knowing exactly what was done, all I can do is weaken it a little. If we tried to do any more than that we¡¯d risk damaging something irreparably. Your mind knows what to do better than I do.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± the boy said.


    ¡°When you wake up, Stewart Cantel will be dead, but you will have all of his memories¡­¡±


    ¡°Hopefully not all of them,¡± the High Commander laughed.


    ¡°Alright, most of his memories,¡± Simon Windsbane said and grinned back at his friend. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I know the ones you¡¯d rather take with you to the grave.¡±


    Stewart Cantel nodded.


    Turning back to the boy, the Arch Magus continued. ¡°Though you will have his memories and a facsimile of his personality in your mind, know that Stewart Cantel will be dead. After a time, his voice will fade and he will fully become a part of you. Utilize his knowledge and experience while you can, and learn what he has to teach you. When it is gone, believe me¡ªyou will miss it.¡±


    The Arch Magus reached out once again and put a translucent hand on each of their foreheads. ¡°Goodbye, old friend,¡± he said, and the world went black.

 Book Two: Epilogue

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The voice startled him awake. If his groggy mind was to be believed, it hadn¡¯t come from very far away. Looking around, he remembered where he was as he saw the lifeless eyes of Stewart Cantel staring back at him.


    Well, that¡¯s a hell of a thing to see, a voice said, making him look around again. Relax Victor, it¡¯s just me.


    I know this is a weird situation and all, but shouldn¡¯t we probably hide just in case whoever is looking for the bodies isn¡¯t friendly? the facsimile of the High Commander said.


    Right. He thought back and scurried up the middle tree, being sure to avoid the dried blood that ran down the trunks of the outer trees.


    Blood Mage, Stewart Cantel snarled.


    Yeah, figured that one out on my own, the boy shot back.


    Princess Tatiana.


    Ok, that one I didn¡¯t know.


    The Princess had started crying when she saw the carnage with the body of Stewart Cantel lying in the midst of it. It wasn¡¯t a loud or annoying crying, just the tears of a girl who had lost her last hope of escape.


    Be careful of that one, Stewart Cantel said, and the boy resisted an urge to nod in agreement.


    Well shit. Cantel summed up the situation rather well, he thought.


    Oh, nicely played, Cantel said with a bit of mirth.


    This guy is smooth, Cantel said. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s lying, though.


    Yeah, me either, the boy replied. Should I go with him?


    It is definitely a way you can stay near the Princess.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have one,¡± he said hopping down from the tree. ¡°It was taken from me by one of your kind.¡±


    Second thing he ever said to you and he decides to use it as a name. It does fit though.


    Shade, huh? I can live with that for now.


    Oh shit, Stewart Cantel said.


    I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s a big deal?


    Yeah, he¡¯s one of the guys in charge. You have just stepped into the Grim¡¯le¡¯s nest, my young friend.


    Well, that sounds about right.


    Well shit. Shade thought as he realized that Cyrian Dreadmeir had not been fooled by his story about the trees.


    Great, I¡¯m already a bad influence, Stewart Cantel said as Shade reached for the manacle pieces.

 Book Two: Stinger

    (Captain¡¯s Log: Captain Syrallak: Entry #12)


    (Personal Log: Captain Syrallak: Entry #15)


    (Captain¡¯s Log: Captain Syrallak: Entry #73)


    (Personal Log: Captain Syrallak: Entry #92)


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    (Captain¡¯s Log: Captain Syrallak: Entry #98)


    (Personal Log: Captain Syrallak: Entry #124)


    (Captain¡¯s Log: Captain Syrallak: Entry #143)


    (Personal Log: Captain Syrallak: Entry #212)


    Picked up some scary shit on the Deep Space Probes this week. From the initial guesses of our sensor guys, it is a massive ship heading directly towards this system. Best guess puts it at several dozen times the mass of our vessel. We¡¯re a science ship¡ªwe aren¡¯t equipped to handle something like that. Luckily, whatever is will be on the wrong side of the system when it gets here. We might have to engage stealth protocols if our mission doesn¡¯t end by then. Maybe the Empress will send us a battleship. I don¡¯t have any evidence, but something tells me the Empress already knows about the ship, and that¡¯s the real reason we¡¯re here.

 Book Three: Prologue

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    I¡¯d say, the memory of Stewart Cantel added.


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    I wouldn¡¯t turn my back on him just yet, Cantel said. But, also remember that men will do a lot of things they find despicable in order to survive.


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    Well, that¡¯s something at least, Cantel said.


    It is certainly more than we¡¯ve gotten out of her so far, Shade replied.


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 Book Three: Chapter 1 - Serenity Denied

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    I¡¯m not sure I like where this is going. Stewart Cantel¡¯s discomfort bled through his words, causing a slight chill to travel up Shade¡¯s back.


    Glad I¡¯m not the only one. Shade replied.


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    I do. Stewart Cantel¡¯s mirth flowed through him. I would have put a stop to it after the second guard lost.


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    A competition for Dracairei? He wants you to become an Assassin? How does that kind of thing even work? Stewart Cantel seemed more intrigued than Shade thought he had a right to be.


    You know I¡¯m going to be the one in danger, right? Shade replied to his mental passenger.


    Oh, right, well¡­ I¡¯m sure Cyrian has a plan.


    Something that interests you happens, and all the sudden he¡¯s Cyrian instead of The Blood Mage?


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    I¡¯d say that¡¯s a no. Stewart Cantel sighed, but Shade could tell that the man was excited at what was to come, even if he was trying to hide it.


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    He isn¡¯t the only one who has grown though, Shawnrik thought as he had to duck slightly to exit his room on his way to the showers.


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 Book Three: Chapter 2 - Family Ties

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    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Hold, this one is more afraid of us than we should be of him.


    I¡¯ve been trying for almost two months to get a response from that thing, and now it decides to get chatty, Stewart Cantel groused.


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    The boy will come for your master; best you are ready to make some decisions when that day arrives.¡±


    Well, that was interesting, Stewart Cantel said.


    That¡¯s one way to phrase it, Shade replied, disconcerted that he had lost control of his body so easily to the creature.


    The message has been delivered. The choice is now his.


    Right, whatever that means, Cantel replied.


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    Oh, I don¡¯t want to see that, Stewart Cantel said.


    Close your eyes, then.


    Funny, lad, but you¡¯re going to feel the same way when you see that tentacled monstrosity laid out.


    Tentacles? Shade replied, his curiosity piqued.


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 Book Three: Chapter 3 - Connections

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    Still not talking to him. Stewart Cantel was somewhere between proud and exasperated.


    Well, she is technically his prisoner, Shade replied. It wasn¡¯t the first time they had shared an exchange like this, and he knew it wouldn¡¯t be the last.


    Yes, but she could at least not rely on you to fill the empty air, the former High Commander groused. She is a princess, after all. If her mother saw the way she¡¯s behaving, she would be mortified.


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    Politics, Stewart Cantel said. He probably specializes in something that the rest of the mages deem unworthy of respect or acclaim, and he probably has no motivation to play the games the others do. You saw that he was sitting at the guards¡¯ table. If he had any interest at all in advancement, he would be with the other Shapers.


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    Of course he¡¯s sorry now. Stewart Cantel would have spat if he had been able. Nim, Ashur, and I all told him it wasn¡¯t secure, but no, they wouldn¡¯t listen.


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    Boy, I bet that makes you feel like a jerk. Shade grinned. He was beginning to know who the people in the mirror were through the former High Commander¡¯s memories.


    Shut up. Stewart Cantel seemed annoyed not only that the King had repeated his own sentiments back at him, but that Shade had realized that it affected him as much as it did. It seems to be only the royal family, with Analya and Leodric. Too bad we didn¡¯t interrupt a full council meeting. It would be nice to know for sure who took my place.


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    You seem to have made an impression on Analya. Stewart Cantel seemed as confused about that development as Shade himself felt about seeing the woman.


    Yeah, I suppose I would at that, Shade replied. We can talk about it later.


    Alright, Cantel said, but Shade could tell that the former High Commander didn¡¯t like knowing that there were things that Shade had kept from him.


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 Book Three: Chapter 4 - Cyrians Blade

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    Smartass, Stewart Cantel agreed. Maybe the Jason fellow that Cyrian was waiting for has returned.


    Just remember, this is my body.


    Of course, Cantel said. I¡¯m just looking forward to seeing what you can do.


    Yeah, well, so am I.


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    You¡¯ll figure it out sooner or later, Stewart Cantel said.


    it wasn¡¯t me. Shade slowly turned to look at the sickly-looking man in the chair next to him.


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    Well I¡¯m glad that someone is amused by this at least, Stewart Cantel grumbled.


    I had a feeling that wasn¡¯t you, Shade replied, a little more scared than he had been a moment before.


    Remember the memory of the Dragon-turned-Mage Tyrdra when she and her whelp were about to assault the town that was besieged by the Dracair.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Be calm hatchling, there is nothing wrong; we were successful.


    It¡¯s not enough; I need more. Shade attempted to expand the Shaping, but something stopped him.


    You will break your mind.


    I think he¡¯s right, Stewart Cantel interjected before Shade could unleash his building rage. I don¡¯t know a whole lot about these things, but I know it takes a lot to accomplish what you just did. To attempt anymore now would be dangerous.


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    You know, I like this guy. Stewart Cantel said.


    You would.


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 Book Three: Chapter 5 - Serenity Falls

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    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Trolls guarding the gate to the Institute? Something was definitely wrong.


    If any of them are in any position to help or are even here.


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    kompanias that was held captive, but hundreds of students and faculty.


    Cypheria knows there is little enough of that at the moment.


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 Book Three: Chapter 6 - Revelations

    could, it seemed, but they said it was bad for the brain to not deal with those things as naturally as possible.


    You know, most people would probably think that someone laughing after severe physical trauma is either a good sign or a sign of madness, Stewart Cantel said.


    Says the dead man in my head.


    Point. Cantel laughed. I am a little surprised that your overprotective subconscious didn¡¯t come out and kill everyone yesterday, though.


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    He was in no true danger. The pallid one was in control the entire time.


    Oh goody, we get to include it in conversations now! Cantel said.


    Do not mock me, fragment of what once was.


    Ouch. The former High Commander went quiet.


    Get along, you two, Shade admonished. None of us are going anywhere anytime soon.


    That is one reason I felt it reasonable to talk at this time. I feel that referring to me as It, That Thing, or Creature is no longer acceptable.


    Alright, do you have something you would like us to refer to you as?


    I do not, but I find the other ways¡­ troublesome.


    Simon would have a field day with this conversation, Cantel interjected, referring to the Arch Mage of the Protectorate, the man who had cast the Shaping that had placed a copy of the former High Commander inside Shade¡¯s mind.


    I can only imagine, Shade replied. What do you name a part of your own mind? Shade-esque? Or maybe it should be the name of the boy he had no memories of. Not-quite-Victor? He shivered for a moment as he realized that would also be a good name for himself, and he threw that whole line of thought out the window. It came to him then. Remembering the first true interaction he had with the voice, he recalled something that had been said.


    Vitiosi Dei.


    Throwing my words back at me. Alright. We¡¯ll talk about this later. He approaches.


    We¡¯re going to need to have a conversation about how you know these kinds of things someday. Shade hopped out of bed and started getting ready, forgetting that he had been beaten to the brim of unconsciousness the day before. He winced as his body protested the rapid movement. It wasn¡¯t surprising when he received no reply from Vitiosi.


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    Good Luck.


    Thanks, Shade mouthed back.


    You are the son of Analya Theromvore and Lagelion Daystar? And a champion to three gods? You didn¡¯t think this was worth telling me?


    Victor Deus is all of those things. I¡¯m just a boy who woke up as a slave in a mine, Shade responded.


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    Do you have any idea what this means?


    Yeah, that I¡¯m about to get beaten up again probably.


    Not that. This is just standard introductory training that anyone thinking about joining Special Forces would have to endure. Stewart Cantel somehow became louder, to the point that Shade was having trouble hearing his own footfalls. Not only are you the half-Elven child of two extremely important people, but you are the champion of three gods. No wonder people are trying to kill you.


    Well, I can¡¯t do anything about any of that, Shade replied.


    Yes you can. You can train your ass off and be ready for when they come, because they will come. Keeping secrets like this doesn¡¯t last forever. Someone always finds out eventually, and each of these secrets that gets revealed is going to increase the danger to your person exponentially, the former High Commander explained. You are going to need every skill and trick that we can learn from these people if you want to get out of this city alive.


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    Again, I¡¯m glad this is making one of us happy.


    Well, you can¡¯t blame me for enjoying training, or for feeling like what is about to happen is a small slice of karma for keeping secrets from yourself.


    You aren¡¯t part of me yet.


    Aren¡¯t I?


    Great, now I really do feel crazy.


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    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


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    Assuming we believe his boast, the question becomes what kind of man lives that long? Cantel asked.


    Good question, Shade replied.


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    I¡¯m not having fun anymore, Stewart Cantel said. This guy is a bona-fide sociopath.


    I¡¯m not so sure, Shade said, as he stared down the length of Jason¡¯s sword. I think that if he meant us any harm, or hadn¡¯t planned all of this out meticulously, Vitiosi would be going on a rampage right now.


    Oh, well as long as Vitiosi likes the guy, we¡¯re all good. Cantel didn¡¯t even try to mask his sarcasm.


    The sword and the whetstone both lose pieces of themselves when they come together, but the sword is stronger because of that exchange.


    What the¡­


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    Son of a bitch, Cantel said.


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    He¡¯s right. Or at least, I think he is. I don¡¯t know a whole lot about Shaping myself, but I remember listening in on a lecture the Arch Magus gave to a young Nimus Mithriannil. An image of a man with the eyes of a Dragon sitting near a fireplace listening as the Arch Magus spoke popped into Shade¡¯s mind as the former High Commander recalled the event. I¡¯m not even going to pretend like I understood a tenth of it, but from what it sounded like, if a Shaper with a strong enough will were connected with another spot, it would be analogous to something he called quantum entanglement, and the two points could be bridged.


    That was well-put for not understanding it, Vitiosi added. He isn¡¯t wrong, though.


    Great, so now we have to wonder why he didn¡¯t even bother to bring up that possibility. Shade rubbed his forehead with his hand.


    ¡®Cause he¡¯s a conniving old bastard, Cantel groused.


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 Book 3: Chapter 7 - Resistance

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    It is always entertaining how guilty he looks when he didn¡¯t mean to hurt you, Stewart Cantel said, as they watched Jason leave the room.


    I have a large piece of metal sticking out of me. Perhaps we can wait until later to find the humor in this situation? Shade thought.


    When did you get to be so serious? Stewart asked. Victor would have made a quip about the injury before I could say anything.


    Yes, well, might I remind you that I am not Victor. Shade grimaced. He hated talking about whoever he had been before the Blood Mage Yandarian had done whatever it was he had done to block all of the parts that made up Victor Deus¡¯s personality. Sometimes at night, Shade would sift through the former High Commander¡¯s memories of the times that the man had met Victor and try to compare how much of himself he saw in the young boy. Victor had seemed so sure of himself to the former High Commander; he was quick with a smile, and eager to learn.


    You aren¡¯t so different as you think. His voice took on a paternal tone inside Shade¡¯s head. You are two sides of a coin, shaped by different experiences. I think Victor will like who you are.


    I just keep thinking that I¡¯ll be thrust aside and kept in a mental box somewhere once he gains his freedom.


    Then you do not know Victor Deus. Vitiosi surprised them both as he spoke. That part of his mind had been quiet through the past few days of training.


    What do you mean? Shade asked, his curiosity piqued.


    He is not one to discard things that are useful.


    Ah, you noticed huh? Stewart Cantel said.


    When did this start happening? Shade tried to see if there was something he could do to strengthen the area that separated them, but it seemed like the more he focused on that area, the more he noticed it decaying.


    I think it has been happening since I was put in here. Cantel said. I noticed it within a few days. It¡¯s a slow process. I figure I¡¯ll have at least a few months more as I exist right now, and then¡­¡± The former High Commander gave a mental shrug.


    Then what? Shade asked, but realized that someone was standing in front of his body.


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    I can see where he is coming from, but it isn¡¯t about the winning or losing so much as how you win or lose. Cantel said.


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    He¡¯s right, Stewart Cantel said. Nim and I were fairly evenly matched when we played, but neither of us managed to beat the Arch Magus. Your father is the only one who I know of who has come close.


    ¡°


    ¡°

 Book Three: Chapter 8 - Summers Cool

    Year: 3045 AGD


    Month: Time of Storms


    First Thirdday


    Serenity Valley


    Institute of Learning


    Amphitheater


    The atmosphere in the amphitheater was tense. Everyone was dirty, tired, and hungry. They had been captives now for nearly four days and nerves were stretched to their limit all around. The captives were beginning to wonder if they would die of starvation and there was more than one group talking about trying to fight their way out of the troll blockade.


    The trolls seemed to be just as frustrated as whatever they came here to find continued to elude them. There were just as many disgruntled looks from the trolls towards the human that led them as there were malcontents in the amphitheater.


    The man, who had told them his name was Walkins, had tried twice already to get Torva Blackbriar to give him information on something he called aegis, but the headmistress either didn¡¯t know, or wouldn¡¯t tell. Either way, things were going to come to a head soon, and Olivia was not looking forward to how that was likely to play out.


    ¡°Sara, how is your brother doing?¡± The headmistress asked in as low of a voice as she could accomplish, which was still loud enough for anyone within ten feet to hear clearly.


    ¡°Much better Headmistress Blackbriar, thank you for asking.¡±


    Sara had long-since stopped cradling her brother''s head in her lap and was now simply kneeling by his side checking his pulse and the swelling on his head every few minutes. Olivia thought this was quite the improvement.


    ¡°The swelling has gone down quite a bit in the last day or so thanks to the minstrations of nurse Stonebank.¡± Sara punctuated her statement by once again looking under the bandage to check the wound on Rigael''s head.


    Olivia was halfway through rolling her eyes when Rebeccca poked her in the side.


    ¡°She''s just worried about her brother.¡± Rebecca whispered, ¡°you''d be doing the same thing if that were Shawnrik or a member of your kompanias.¡±


    ¡°I know, it''s just...¡±


    ¡°Ms. Blackbriar.¡±


    The girls all watched as the Headmistress''s whole body tensed before she released a breath before turning around to face the man who held them all captive. Walkins strolled through the gathered students and faculty with a handkerchief pressed to his nose.


    You wouldn''t have to use that if you''d let us go use the showers. Olivia thought.


    ¡°Mr. Walkins, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?¡±


    Olivia was seriously impressed by the ability for the headmistress to layer in so much sarcasm into her statement while sounding completely sincere.


    Walkin''s waved his handkerchief lightly around as if to wave away the fact that it didn''t matter what she felt about him personally. ¡°You know why I''m here. If you just told us where we can find this aegis device we could all be done here and we could all go our separate ways.¡±


    Torva Blackbriar seemed to be processing something for a moment before she spoke. ¡°Mr. Walkins, I assure you that if there was a device called aegis that you could just take out of here that I knew about I would simply give it to you.¡± Walkins seemed to be about to say something when she continued. ¡°However, you seem to be under the impression that were you to get this device you and your hired help could just leave and we could go back to our regular schedules. I hate to disabuse you of the idea that this is going to go quickly, but you are aware that the portals will not activate again until right before the harvest festival?¡±


    Walkins seemed to lose some of his bluster as the two trolls that followed him through the crowd began to mutter to each other under their breath. He moved in closer to the headmistress and lowered his voice.


    ¡°What?¡± Walkins looked around and pulled on the headmistress''s shoulder causing her to raise an eyebrow, but allowed herself to be pulled down closer to his level. ¡°Are you trying to tell me that there is no way out of this valley before the harvest festival? You have no control over the portals?¡±


    Torva Blackbriar laughed. A deep sound that sounded more like boulders grinding together than mirth. ¡°There are a few fishing vessels that brave the shores of our small island, but I don''t think you would want to take any of them out into the ocean; nor would there be enough of them to take all of your men with you.¡±


    Unlike Walkins she had made no efforts to lower her voice so the reactions of the trolls behind Walkins would have been entertaining to Olivia if things weren''t as tense as they were inside the amphitheater. Several nearby people having overheard the remarks laughed sardonically.


    ¡°As for the portals.¡± She continued, ¡°As far as I am aware, no one is able to control them, nor has anyone been able to for as long as the Institute has been around. There are set markers out in the world that can receive a portal, as well as set times and days that the portals are active. We have two empty rooms where portals used to open, but no longer do. We were able to verify that one of the connected pillars had been damaged to the point that it no longer worked. The other has never worked according to the records I have been able to find.¡±


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Nearly a minute passed as the man seemed to be processing this new information. Olivia looked from the man to the headmistress and then back to the troll guards several times during this period and she watched as first the man, and then the guards seemed to understand that no one was leaving anytime soon, and things were not going to go well if something didn''t change in the immediate future.


    ¡°Mr. Walkins, I can see that your employer left out vital information that you should have known before you were sent on this silver wolf chase.¡± She somehow seemed to grow smaller as she took a step back, looking as nonthreatening as a female troll her size could. Olivia thought the difference was about equal to Immediate violence versus the threat of immediate violence, but held her tongue as the woman continued. ¡°Might I suggest that you allow us move into one of the dorms so that we might at least have the basic necessities. We could even start a kitchen back up and you and your men could have some real food while you continue your search in the following months.¡±


    Walkins looked around at the unwashed faces around him and seemed to realize that these people weren''t going to sit here meekly for much longer if the situation wasn''t improved. The trolls also seemed to like the idea of a hot meal as they hadn''t quite figured out the knack of the schools equipment quite yet and had been seen with large cans in hand ladling out large mouthfuls of whatever they could open.


    ¡°Alright Ms. Blackbriar, I will concede that you are right on this account. I''ll go talk to my scouts and see which of the dorms will be easiest to keep you contained in.¡± His voice rose as he continued. ¡°Tomorrow morning we''ll be moving your people into better accommodations. I warn your people not to test my patience as any attempts to escape or cause trouble will be dealt with in a swift and immediate fashion.¡±


    Torva Blackbriar dipped slightly, and Olivia wondered if the headmistress had just curtsied. ¡°I give you my word that no one here will cause you any trouble.¡± Several groups who had moved closer as the conversation continued began to murmur at these words causing the headmistress to raise her head before speaking so that the whole amphitheater could hear her clearly. ¡°No one will cause any trouble while we make this transition. If anyone steps out of line while we try to make an attempt at some sort of normalcy you won''t have to worry about this man and his clump. You will have to deal with me, and you know I do not take lightly anyone who puts my students in danger.¡±


    Olivia watched as the people around them began to visibly take a step back as the Headmistress''s gaze passed through the crowd. She couldn''t help note that the man Walkins had also paled slightly at the end of her statement and began to make his way out of the amphitheater.


    ¡°Excellent, then I''ll leave you to organizing everyone so they are ready to move in the morning. I''m sorry we''re all going to be stuck with each other a while, but as long as no one does anything stupid things should go smoothly.¡±


    Elsewhere


    ¡°This is stupid.¡±


    Lia swore to herself under her breath as she ran past trees that would tower over the tallest buildings in Safeharbor. She was a long way from her home, but having lost the only family she had left in the world she knew that the last thing she could do was live a simple life working as a maid for someone else.


    Nim had treated her and Megan better than anyone ever had before. He had given them a place to live, and had allowed them to continue their educations under his employ. It hadn''t been until she had seen the pain in his face as her sister''s body slowly grew weaker as the poison worked its way through her system that she had realized just how much he had actually cared.


    Having spent a good portion of their lives living off scraps and the ''kindness'' of others the girls had quickly learned that very few people ever did anything out of the kindness of their hearts. The fact that Nim Mithriannil barely a step removed from the royal line of Theromvores had cared about Lia and her sister and seemed to have no ulterior motives scared her more than if he had. She didn''t know how to repay that kind of kindness. He had spent thousands of golds trying to cure her sister, even though the priests told him it wouldn''t help.


    So she had ran.


    Like she always did.


    Little Lia, scared of her own shadow.


    Her sister had always been the brave one. Megan was the one who had been able to tell that when this man said he could get them off the streets and into a safe place he had actually meant it unlike all the others who had tried to make the girls their own. Megan was the one who took to their martial training with aplomb while Lia flinched every time the practice blade had come near her.


    Her sister had told her that she thought if they were good enough they might be able to get jobs like Jenn and become important members of the Theromvore information network, but Lia had simply wanted to be a maid and tease the young master. Megan and Victor had been everything she wasn''t. Both were self assured, and had been able to win a room with their personality alone. While she cried at her sister''s bedside, holding her hand as the life drained from her, he had been out with Nim making sure the ones that had done this deed would never do it again.


    She had finally put her faith in someone other than her sister and it had been a boy who hadn''t even seen his eighth birthday. The worst part was that she had known he would get the job done. Of course, he had been accompanied by two of the greatest fighters in the Protectorate, but she hadn''t known the Tetriarch of the Sorcerers himself would accompany the boy and her employer on their sojourn.


    Because of course he was.


    Who else but Nim or Victor could get the legendary battlesorcerer Zander Halcyon to join them on a nighttime walk where they broke a dozen laws of the very city he had pledged to protect. They had come back successfully, but no one thought it was a victory as they prepared to lay Megan to her final rest, and the others left on a trip to the north to save the boy Shawnrik who her sister had said would be a fine man in a few years.


    So she had ran.


    Like she always did.


    Only this time she was running to something instead of away from something. It was a stupid idea. A flight of fancy that a child might run off on. Her mother had told them stories of the forest every night before tucking them into their beds. The once proud elven woman who now worked herself to he bone at the fishery trying to make enough money to keep food on their plates and their father wealthy enough so he would stay at the bar instead of coming home.


    She had told the girls of the tribes of people who lived in the southern part of the Death''s Edge forests where even the elves with all of their woodcraft dared not go. These mighty and brave people who lived off the land and were spoken of in hushed, fearful tones by even the bravest of the Protectorate.


    It was stupid, but she couldn''t get them out of her head. If only she had been as fearless and strong as her sister, Megan might not have had to jump in front of a blade that had been aimed for her.


    So she ran.


    Like she always did.


    What she hadn''t realized.


    In those moments of introspection.


    As she ran through the towering growth.


    Was that she no longer ran alone.