ã€ŠThe Last Sinã€‹


 Original Sin Part 1

    "We have to split up."

    I pressed myself against the wall, knees propped against my chest, making myself small. I wrapped my arms around my thighs, hugging myself because no one else would.

    "But - but why?"

    Kirk was looking at me, his large, blue eyes staring at my face, trying to understand my betrayal.

    My eyes flicked to his ankle, red and swollen like an apple, making my stomach churn.

    "Better odds that way. I run one way, and you run the other. One of us will escape... count on it."

    I turned away from him, and his eyes that bore into me, burrowing through my lies. The alleyway we sat in was narrow, like a rabbit''s trail. A few feet away, the crowds of the capital''s Lower District bustled, unaware of the looming danger. Above them, the setting sun set the sky ablaze¡ªthe first warning.

    "I have to go now, Kirk. Run as far as you can."

    I got to my feet and walked towards the crowd, my hand brushing against the brick wall in a weak attempt to stay.

    ¡°Jacob¡­ Jacob, please! Please don¡¯t leave me. Not like this.¡±

    He was sobbing, his breath shuddering as I took slow steps to the lip of the alley.

    "Jacob¡­ We¡¯re friends, right?"

    I didn''t turn back. I didn''t want him to see the tears running down my face. I smiled to myself and nodded.

    "We were best friends."

    # # #

    When the orphanage closed last month, I was happy. Built near an ocean and split by a river, the weather in Luskaine''s capital was mild, perfect for a new life on the cobblestone streets. Those were the good days. When I ran with a pack of boys from my orphanage, the few who didn''t mind that I was an elf. The piles of trash that littered the Lower District became our castles, the forgotten alleyways our warm beds. Even the rats we caught tasted better than the gruel the orphanage poured into our bowls. It was a good life¡­ until they started hunting us.

    When night came to the streets of the Lower District, the howling of dogs followed. We would scatter like mice only to regroup and find one or more of us gone the next morning. Every night, the cycle repeated, thinning our herd. No matter how far we ran, the howls followed until it was only me and Kirk, my best friend.

    I had to do it. He was slowing me down. They all slowed me down¡­

    A pebble bit into my knee, drawing blood. Leaving Kirk behind had bought me a week, but over a month of running had worn down my shoe soles and blistered my feet. The howling dogs continued to hunt me in the night. When I slept in the day, they followed me in my dreams. There was no escape. The more I ran, the less I ate, the less I slept. Soon, I couldn''t run. I couldn''t walk. I could only crawl in an alleyway and wait to die.

    When the howls came that night, relief washed over me. Sitting with my back against the alley¡¯s dead end, I waited for the hunt to be over.

    At the lip of the alleyway, the orange flame of a single torch cut through the darkness. As it drew closer, the sounds of panting dogs, rattling chains, and bickering men followed.

    "Bout bloody time we caught this one."

    "I almost feel sorry for him. He gave us a grand chase around the capital. Pitiful thing, isn''t he?"

    "That he is. Taking him is a mercy, Lord Severn."

    "Hush! Don''t say my name in front of the meat, and keep a firm grip on those chains. I don''t want that accident with the last one happening again."

    "The one with the big eyes? I swear I see his face in my dreams on the nights where I ain''t piss drunk."

    I imagined Kirk¡¯s face¡ªhis large, innocent eyes, his broad smile¡ªas we shared our dreams of being adopted together as brothers.

    I left him. I left my best friend to die alone in an alleyway like this, and now¡­ now it was my turn.

    Uncontrollable sobbing wracked my body as wet, salty tears ran down my face.

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    "Ah, is the meat crying? Look at me, boy. Look at me!"

    I lifted my head. There were two men: a dumb-looking brute in a rough-spun tunic and a young man dressed in a long, black coat. His wide-brimmed hat and matching black bandana only revealed icy blue eyes and locks of curly blonde hair.

    He knelt, almost meeting me at eye level.

    "Your friends are dead, but hush now, don''t worry. You''ll get to join them. Live with them¡­ underneath my home. Does that sound good? It¡¯s much better than what someone like you deserves."

    That only made me cry harder, the salty tears dribbling into my mouth.

    "Stop. Crying!"

    Pain exploded across my face before the sound of his slap echoed in the alleyway.

    The young Lord wiped his dirty hand on a handkerchief before he stood up and turned away from me.

    "Enough. Take him."

    "B-But Lord... my hands are full!"

    The brutish man shrugged. In one hand, he held a torch; in the other, he held chains connected to two hunting dogs. The hunting dogs were large, black-furred beasts with opaque red eyes that bulged out of their heads. Their long tongues lolled between rows of daggerlike teeth. Even resting on their haunches, they towered over me.

    "Fine, hand over the torch."

    As the Lord reached for the torch, a gust of wind swept through the alleyway, blowing out the light.

    "Wuh was that!"

    "Shh! Quiet. I hear footsteps."

    The soft crunch of flat leather soles on stone echoed in the alleyway. As each step grew closer, I held my breath.

    How many monsters are there in the dark?

    The alleyway exploded in silvery moonlight, and I got my answer. The two men stepped back from the light, and the woman holding it in her black-gloved hand.

    She wore a floor-length, pleated skirt the colour of blood and a matching waist-long jacket with a hood to cover her hair. Most bizarre was her face, concealed from forehead to collarbone by a mask of red stocking.

    "And what are you supposed to be?"

    She answered by stepping closer.

    "My Lord?"

    "Stay back and mind your business!"

    The young Lord moved in front of the brute, hand at his side sword.

    "Last warning!"

    The woman raised her right hand, letting what looked like a piece of the moon float above us. She buried that same hand into the folds of her pleated skirt and pulled out a knife with an odd, forward-bent blade.

    She took another step closer.

    The hunting dogs whimpered. In front of her, we were all prey.

    "I warned you!"

    The Lord pulled out his sword and made it bleed. Impossible droplets of blood poured from the metallic surface, pooling at his feet.

    She stepped closer.

    He swung his sword in an upward, diagonal slash, making droplets of blood arch off the blade in a thin stream.

    With a twist of her hips, she turned side face. The arc of blood brushed past her, slicing off the top corner of the alleyway and sending roof tiles falling.

    She stepped closer.

    I shook my head.

    This couldn¡¯t be real. I must be dreaming.

    The young Lord swung his sword again in a downward, diagonal slash closer to the ground, sending another arc of blood her way.

    The woman in red danced around the attack, raising the wicked knife in her right hand.

    "Enough!"

    The man swung his sword to the side, sending out an arc of blood that should have cut the woman in half at the waist.

    She jumped¡ªhigher than the arc of blood, higher than the two men who stared at her in disbelief. Silhouetted by the moonlight above, she floated to the ground, landing beside the young Lord. In one smooth motion, she wrapped her right arm around the man''s sword arm, passed her knife to her left hand, and levelled it to his neck.

    "Wait! Wait. Please. I can pay. I have- AHCKK!"

    The young Lord was cut off as the knife¡¯s blade ran across his throat. He fell like a sack of potatoes, the sound muted by my pounding heart.

    The hunting dogs looked around, the red cloud lifting from their eyes. They whined at the sight of their dead master and yanked themselves free from the brutish man''s grip. The man chased after them, running past the woman. He almost made it to the lip of the alley before the strange knife buried itself in his back.

    The knife pulled itself free and flew like a boomerang back into the woman''s waiting hand.

    She let out an exasperated sigh, wiping the blunt edge of the knife in the crook of her elbow. The fabric absorbed the blood like a sponge.

    "I didn''t want to kill a noble tonight," the woman said to no one in particular.

    She turned to me, and I tried to press myself through the wall.

    She stepped closer.

    Wait, isn''t this what I wanted? To die.

    I forced myself to take deep breaths as she continued to step closer. She stopped when I was just within her arm¡¯s reach.

    The woman¡¯s left knife hand fidgeted, hungry for more blood.

    She grabbed her left hand with her right and took a deep breath, the exhale making her shoulders slump.

    Behind her, there was movement. I leaned onto my elbow to see the young Lord rise to his feet.

    He turned to me, his dead, glassy eyes staring. The blood that spilled down his throat rolled up into his gaping knife wound.

    I pointed at the man, wordless terror gripping my tongue. My eyes bulged at the woman whose head was tilted up, lost in thought.

    A stream of blood shot from the wound across the young Lord''s neck.

    The woman crouched a split second before the stream pierced the back of her head. Instead, it bit into the wall above me, raining clumps of rock on my head, followed by a shower of blood. The force of the stream knocked the young Lord on his back and covered the woman, the alleyway and me with his blood.

    Staring out at a world turned red, I sat stunned.

    Was this how the world looked to her?

    The oddity of the situation outweighed my fear of the woman crouched in front of me.

    My relief returned, a tranquil calm covering me like warm moss.

    I closed my eyes.

    I was ready now¡ªready to see Kirk and all the other friends I¡¯d lost over the month-long hunt, ready to join them in the sea of souls beneath our feet.

    "Do you want to come with me?"

    My eyes snapped open, staring at the woman''s red-veiled face.

    "What?!"

    "The guards are coming. You can wait for them, or¡­ you can come with me."

    She stabbed her knife into the cobblestone.

    "Choose. I don''t have all night."

    I leaned on my elbow again, catching sight of the bodies of the two men who hunted down me and my friends.

    "Can you teach me how to do that?"

    She giggled, a more girlish laugh than I expected.

    "If you can keep up."

 Original Sin Part 2

    The hope swelling within me was smothered.

    "Um, I can''t... my feet."

    I wiggled my blistered, shoeless toes. Even if my feet weren¡¯t injured, I didn¡¯t think I could stand, let alone walk. The hunt had left me tired, starving, and sleep-deprived.

    "Oh..."

    She slipped her knife into a secret pocket in her skirt and leaned towards me.

    "Hold on to me."

    I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, and she hoisted me in a one-armed bridal carry, leaving her left hand free. The fabric of her clothes was bone dry despite getting drenched with blood only a moment ago.

    Outside the alleyway, men shouted. The dogs running loose in the streets must have raised the guards.

    The moonlight above us blinked out. A gust of wind swirled in the alleyway, running through my matted hair and brushing against my wet, bloody skin. The next moment, my stomach lurched as the woman jumped one, two, three stories in the air!

    The sudden force pulled my body down as she held my body up, the wind whistling in my ears. And then, weightlessness, as she reached the top of her jump''s arc, floating down onto the rooftop of the neighbouring building. I didn''t have time to catch my breath. She leaped forward, bounding from rooftop to rooftop with each step.

    The wind wrapped around us, creating a pocket of air that made each footfall soundless and pushed her forward as she jumped. Bobbing up and down like a leaf caught in a summer gale, I was held tight in the woman''s strong arms. Below us, the heads of torches danced as guards flooded the streets of the Lower District¡ªall to hunt down the person who killed Lord Severn.

    Where were these guards when that noble was hunting me and my friends?

    The woman landed on the rooftop of a building overlooking the canal that split the city. The guards were blocking the closest bridge that led into the Upper District. She let me down onto the cool roof tiles and sat beside me. From the top of the roof''s gradual slope, the city''s skyline revealed itself. It was a sprawling view of steep rooftops and angular spires like rows of jagged teeth bared at the sky. And that sky. Was there anything more beautiful? The full moon washed the rooftops in its silvery light. A multitude of stars stared down at me, making me squirm.

    I am nothing.

    The realization came with the view, my station in life laid out before me. The alleyways of the Lower District that had become my world were small compared to the grandness of the capital, as seen by those at the top. The canal cut a neat line between the rich and the poor, the people worthy of respect and the people left to play in the trash. As I took in the view, the woman laid back, her hands behind her head.

    "What are you doing?" I asked.

    "Waiting."

    "For what?"

    She pointed at the bridge without looking.

    "For those guards to leave."

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    "Oh... how long will that take?"

    She shrugged.

    "I don''t know. Sometime before sunrise. Rest while you can."

    I shifted on the roof''s surface. The slate tiles pinched my skin through my threadbare clothes.

    "Thank you."

    "For what?"

    "For saving me... For showing me all this."

    I swept my hand over the skyline.

    "Oh, is that all?"

    "Can I ask you something?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t stop you.¡±

    ¡°What are you?"

    She turned to look at me. Her veiled, expressionless face was unnerving.

    "I am many things, nestling. I am the Claw, a warrior and a mage. Some call me Lady Sin; those close to me, just Sin."

    A nervous giggle escaped my lips before I could catch myself.

    "Hah! The Claw?"

    She lifted one hand, curled her fingers to look like hawk''s talons and grabbed my lips together.

    "Enough, get some rest."

    That made me laugh harder, my giggle coming from lower in my throat. Sin stifled her laughter, but it wasn''t long until she broke, laughing with me in a way that mirrored my own.

    As the laughter died down, my stomach sank. If only Kirk and the others were here with me.

    "Was that noble a mage too?"

    "Yes, a Landbound mage."

    There was an edge of disgust in her voice.

    "Why was he hunting me?"

    Sin shifted on the tiles, uncomfortable for the first time since I met her.

    "Don¡¯t worry about that. What''s your name?"

    "Jacob."

    "And your last name?"

    I paused.

    "I-I don''t have a last name."

    "Good. Now get some rest."

    # # #

    Sin shook me awake a few hours later. The orange hues spreading across the sky told me it was dawn.

    As she predicted, the guards were gone.

    "How did you know?"

    "The guards of this city are easy to predict. To them, it''s no fun waiting around while others get to crack skulls.¡±

    She giggled.

    ¡°I agree with them. So, they focused on locking down the area until they had the numbers to do a full sweep of the Lower District."

    I swallowed hard. I had seen the aftermath of these sweeps on the bodies of older beggars¡ªthe broken bones that weren''t quite healed, the indents in the skin left by iron-tipped boots.

    Sin picked me up and floated off the rooftop with a gust of wind. Holding me tight, she moved in silence across the bridge into the capital''s Upper District. The tension left her body as we reached her destination: the front of a three-story mansion. She set me down on my feet, making me wince as one of my blisters popped.

    Sin knocked on the mansion''s mahogany door three times, looked at me and did a double take. She ran her jacket sleeve across my face. The dried blood crusted on my skin vanished into the red fabric.

    "Follow my lead," she whispered.

    Sin turned back to the door, arching her back to push her breasts forward while sticking out her butt. She clasped her hands together as if they would break under the slightest pressure. She held her chin so high it stretched the red stocking below her chin, adding inches to her height. With four simple adjustments, the killer died, and the noble lady was born.

    The door opened, and a heavy-set woman with short gray hair peered outside with a lantern in one hand.

    "Lady Sin! I thought you were already abed. Your nighttime walks are getting out of hand!"

    Lady Sin stiffened at the older woman¡¯s tone.

    "Mrs. Dulldrey, my nighttime walks are completely safe. I only walk in the Upper District. Look, I brought a guest."

    Mrs. Dulldrey looked down at me and frowned, the fat around her neck compressed into a double chin.

    "An elf?"

    Lady Sin raised one delicate finger.

    "Not an elf. A half-elf."

    She pushed through the entrance, shouldering the taller and broader woman aside with ease. Lady Sin walked half a flight up the staircase next to the front door before turning back.

    "See to it that he gets cleaned. Ask Mr. Reeves for spare clothes and do something about his feet."

    "Lady Sin, you can''t be bringing in strays off the street! Look at him; he''s all covered in blood. What if he''s some kind of murderer?!"

    Lady Sin held a gloved finger to her veiled lips.

    "You will keep your voice down in my household and show the proper respect. That stray is now my ward, and you will treat him as such. Understood?"

    Mrs. Dulldrey''s frown deepened, carving grooves in her pale face.

    "Yes, Lady Sin."

    Without another word, my new, adopted mother disappeared up the stairs.

    Mrs. Dulldrey turned to me, one hand on her hip.

    "Well, you heard the Lady; get inside."

    I nodded and winced as I took my first painful steps into my new home.

    What did I get myself into?

 Original Sin Part 3

    Mrs. Dulldrey closed the door and turned to me.

    "Alright, get up those stairs. I''ll get a bath drawn."

    I looked down at my feet, shifting my weight to the least painful position to stand.

    "What''s the matter?"

    I hunched my shoulders and folded into myself. The floor was spotless.

    "M-My feet."

    Mrs. Dulldrey¡¯s eyes softened for a moment before hardening back to a neutral glare.

    "Hmrph."

    She ducked down and picked me up in a familiar bridal carry, wrinkling her nose as she caught a whiff of the dirt, sweat and blood on my clothes and skin. She marched up the ornate staircase, balancing me and the lantern in her hand.

    At the top of the stairs, an older man with thinning brown hair waited for us. His face was set in a slight smile like he had woken up from a pleasant dream.

    "Mr. Reeves."

    "Ah, the mistress has returned, and who is this charming fellow?"

    "Our Lady is becoming more eccentric by the day. Now she''s bringing home stray elves."

    "An elf! I''ve never seen one in the flesh. They¡¯re so shy."

    "Shy. That''s one word for it. They should show their faces more often. Do they think they can just sit out a war?"

    "War. What war?" I whispered.

    Mrs. Dulldrey looked down at me, more disgusted than when she caught my scent.

    "Mr. Reeves. I will take our guest to the first guest room on the East wing. Bring the tub and wake the twins. Oh, and-"

    She whirled around, showing Mr. Reeves the blistered bottoms of my feet.

    "Get some salve for this."

    "Oh my!"

    Mr. Reeves broke away down the hallway to begin his list of tasks.

    "And bring some of your old clothes, too!"

    "Yes. Yes. Don''t raise your voice."

    Mrs. Dulldrey shook her head.

    "Daydreaming, old fool."

    We walked in silence through the quiet corridors, her lantern rocking with each step. Portraits of an obese man were mounted on the walls, his beady eyes following me. I held on tighter to the large woman.

    After a minute of walking, she set me down to open the door to the guest room. The room was as large as the first floor of my orphanage, and the bed was four times bigger than my cot. Red curtains draped over the room''s massive windows, and a fireplace nestled in the corner. I walked into the room, ignoring the pain in my feet.

    "This is a guest room?"

    "One of the smaller ones."

    The next hour was a flurry as Mr. Reeves dragged a wooden bathtub into the room. A blonde girl in a maid''s uniform passed pails of hot water to Mrs. Dulldrey to fill the tub. She was fast, returning to the room a few minutes after each delivery.

    Mrs. Dulldrey got to work scrubbing weeks of grime off my skin. She muttered complaints as she worked, talking about Lady Sin, the mansion staff, and her sons at war. Once my body was clean, she combed through the tight coils of my hair. That experience hurt more than my feet. As she finished, Mr. Reeves returned with the salve and an old set of clothes. The medicine and bandages made my feet tolerable to walk on, and the man''s old white shirt fit like a robe.

    As fast as the flurry of activity began, it ended with Mr. Reeves smiling at me as he closed the room¡¯s door.

    I stood alone in the strange room, my head spinning at my new reality.

    Out of all the boys from the orphanage, I survived. Now, I was living the life Kirk, and I could only dream of. I was special. That¡¯s why I survived. What else could it be?

    I walked up to the dresser and smiled at the stranger in the mirror; he smiled back. I looked nothing like that street urchin from a few hours before. My orange-brown, curly hair rested on my head like a lion''s mane. My orange eyes stared at coppery skin that glowed from Mrs. Dulldrey''s scrubbing. And my ears...

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    I pulled my hair back to examine my ears. So, I was a half-elf? What did a full elf look like?

    KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

    My body tensed. I fought my instinct to dive under the bed.

    "Hello, Mr. Elf?"

    It was a girl''s voice.

    "Y-Yes?"

    "Are you decent?"

    I turned back to the mirror.

    Mr. Reeves old shirt went down to my knees.

    "Yes."

    The young maid opened the door. She was a little older than me but cute. Very cute.

    "Mrs. Dulldrey said you might want breakfast. I can take you to the kitchen."

    A meal without rat meat? That would take some getting used to.

    "OK."

    She walked into the room and leaned toward me, a sly look in her eye.

    "Can I ask you for a favour?"

    "Yeah... anything."

    "Can I touch your ears?"

    "OK."

    She ran her fingers along the side of my left ear, pressing down on the pointed tip.

    "So cool!" She whispered.

    "W-What''s your name?"

    "Cynthia. What''s yours?"

    "Jacob."

    She took my hand and pulled me outside the room, pointing to a mirror image of herself scrubbing the floor.

    "That''s Cindra. You can tell us apart ''cause she''s always frowning."

    Cindra looked up and scowled at her sister.

    "Mrs. Dulldrey caught her stealing sweets from Gren again. Come on!"

    Cynthia dragged me past Cindra toward the smell of vegetable stew.

    Walking down a hallway and around two corners, we found the kitchen. A large, round man bent over a fireplace. In the middle of the room, Mrs. Dulldrey and Mr. Reeves sat at a weathered, rectangular table nursing their bowls of stew.

    "I brought him, Mrs. Dulldrey!" Cynthia said as we entered the room.

    "We can see that, dear. Jacob, take a seat."

    Cynthia guided me to a chair. She sat down between me and Mrs. Dulldrey. Across the table, Mr. Reeves'' lips bent a bit more upward, his attempt at a smile.

    "So, this is our new ward! I hope he brought his appetite."

    I turned my head to the large man looming over me. Sitting down, he looked like a giant. His large bald head shone from the heat of the fireplace, and his broom-shaped mustache was wet from sampling the stew.

    "Gren, you''re scaring the boy." Mrs. Dulldrey said.

    Gren rubbed the nub of this left hand on the side of his head.

    "What! I''m being nice. Right, boy?"

    "I guess so."

    "See! Now here, try this."

    With his right hand, Gren placed a wooden bowl of stew before me and another to Cynthia. It was different from orphanage or street food. The stew was thick from rolled oats and barley. Carrots, turnips, and vegetables I had never seen before poked above the surface. The aroma of fresh garden herbs made my nose twitch.

    I put a spoonful in my mouth, and my eyes went wide.

    "Why does it taste so good?!"

    Cynthia laughed.

    "I know, right? Gren¡¯s the best."

    "It''s all about adding the right amount of salt," Gren said.

    "Salt? What''s that?"

    Gren looked at me, amused.

    "Have you never tried salt?"

    I shook my head.

    His brown eyes twinkled.

    "You and I will get along like peas in a pod, young Jacob."

    "Spirits spare us. He''ll bankrupt this household by month''s end on exotic spices," Mrs. Dulldrey said.

    "What''s life without indulgence?" Gren asked.

    "You indulgence enough as it is."

    Gren laughed, rubbing his round belly with the nub of his left hand.

    I squirmed in my seat. After a month on the run, happiness felt like a trap. A soft tongue to rest on while the jaws closed around you.

    "What''s wrong, Jacob?" Mr. Reeves asked.

    "Um, nothing."

    The man smiled deeper, lines creasing around his eyes as Gren''s laughter died down.

    "I don''t know what your life has been like, especially as an elf.¡±

    "Half-elf, according to Lady Sin," Mrs. Dulldrey said.

    "Whatever happened before, you''re safe now, Jacob. Safe with us."

    Cynthia elbowed me in the side.

    "He''s right. Mr. Reeves took me and my sister in off the street after she tried to pickpocket him."

    She smiled at me in a way that made you smile back.

    "Oh, look at these two love birds!" Gren said.

    Cynthia turned up her nose.

    "It''s not like that! It''s just good to have someone here who''s around my age. Someone, not my sister."

    She stuck out her tongue like her stew turned sour.

    "That reminds me, when you finish eating, fetch your sister. She needs to eat before doing the rest of her chores," Mrs. Dulldrey said.

    "Yes, Mrs. Dulldrey," Cynthia said in a slow drone.

    Safety. The word had been elusive all my life. Even in the orphanage, I was not safe from the older boys and caretakers who targeted me because of how I looked. Maybe Mr. Reeves was right. Maybe I could be safe here.

    "What kind of person is Lady Sin?" I asked.

    "The Mistress?!" Mr. Reeves said in a surprised tone. "Well, once you get past her quirks, she''s quite kind and generous."

    Cynthia shrugged.

    "She''s always been nice to me."

    Gren laughed.

    "She loves my cooking. What''s to hate?"

    "I have no complaints," Mrs. Dulldrey said.

    Well, that was a lie.

    "Why does she dress like¡ªyou know¡ªlike that?"

    "I heard that she was in an accident," Cynthia said. "Her skin got burned bad."

    Mrs. Dulldrey shook her head.

    "She''s sensitive to sunlight. That''s why she only goes out at night."

    "Both of you, please stop. We shouldn''t talk about the Mistress behind her back," Mr. Reeves said.

    "How about to her face?"

    All heads turned to the kitchen door, where Lady Sin stood in the same graceful pose.

    "Mistress!" Mr. Reeves said, his face reddening.

    Lady Sin waved away his embarrassment, gliding around the room to his side of the table. She ran her index finger along its surface, lifting it to show us the clean fingertip of her black-gloved hand.

    "Good job, Cynthia."

    The young girl blushed.

    "Thank you, Lady Sin!"

    The veiled woman nodded.

    "Mrs. Dulldrey. Mr. Reeves..."

    "Lady Sin?"

    "Mistress?"

    "Excellent work with Jacob. He looks just like..."

    She paused, finishing her comment a moment later.

    "He looks like a young lord."

    "Thank you, Lady Sin."

    "Thank you, Mistress."

    "Gren?"

    Gren hunched his shoulders, rubbing his left nub with his right hand.

    "I''m sorry, Lady Sin. In all the excitement over young Jacob, I didn''t have time to prepare your breakfast."

    "Not to worry. Cynthia, be a dear and take my breakfast to my bedroom when it¡¯s ready."

    "Of course!"

    "Excellent. Mrs. Dulldrey, I will be in the Red Room. Please have someone show Jacob the way when breakfast is over."

    Lady Sin glided out of the room as quickly as she entered it. A cold silence blanketed the table, sending a chill up my spine.

    "What''s the Red Room?"

    Mr. Reeves flashed a nervous smile. It was the first time I saw his teeth.

    Cynthia leaned against me and whispered.

    "When my sister and I came to the mansion. Mrs. Dulldrey told us we could go everywhere except the Red Room. She said if we even looked into that room, we would die."

    "Don''t exaggerate, Cynthia," Mrs. Dulldrey said, wiping the sweat beading her forehead.

    "I''m sure Jacob will be fine," Mr. Reeves said, his Adam''s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

    Safety? Nowhere is safe.

 Original Sin Part 4

    After breakfast, Mr. Reeves led me to the door of the Red Room before hurrying away to his other chores. The Red Room''s door, made of polished black wood with a bronze handle, looked like any other in the mansion.

    I steeled what little nerves I had and knocked on it.

    KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

    "Enter, nestling."

    I turned the knob and walked through the door. The rectangular room was lit by dim lanterns hanging on the wall. True to its name, the walls of the windowless room were painted red. From the waist down, panels of black wood covered their surface.

    Lady Sin, no, Sin leaned back in the room¡¯s only chair. She kicked her feet up on a rectangular table in the middle of the open space, revealing long, black boots. In her left hand, she tossed and caught the knife she used with deadly force the night before. Sin repeated the motion again and again as I squirmed in silence. In the dim light, the ruby eyes of the hawk''s head pommel glinted.

    "You''re fitting in well," Sin said, focusing on the arc of her knife in the air.

    "T-Thank you."

    "That wasn''t a compliment."

    She snatched the knife out of the air in a reverse grip and drove the point into the table.

    "Last night, you said you wanted to learn to do what I do. Has a soft bed and a good meal changed that?"

    "No, I-I still want to learn."

    "Why?"

    She slipped her feet off the table, leaning forward and facing me in her chair.

    Why? Why did I want to be like Sin?

    I thought back to last night and remembered the bodies of my would-be hunters laid out in the alleyway. A feeling of satisfaction swallowed me¡ªthe joy of seeing a hunter become the hunted, the strong becoming weak.

    I thought back to Kirk huddled in the alleyway, waiting to die. He was weak. I was weak. I didn''t have to be. If a hunter could become hunted, the opposite must be true.

    "I''m tired of feeling helpless. The boys at the orphanage bullied me because of how I looked. The caretakers spat in my food.¡±

    I took a deep breath, fighting to keep the shakiness out of my voice.

    ¡°When the orphanage closed, the city guards treated me like the rats my friends and I ate. Then the hunters and the dogs came...¡±

    The sound of howling dogs echoed in my head, sending a chill up my spine.

    ¡°I want to be the monster that goes bump in the night, not its victim. Does that make sense?"

    Sin pried the knife out of the table, placed it on its¡¯ side, and ran her hand along its black handle as if to soothe it.

    "Yes, I understand.¡±

    She shook her head.

    ¡°That fire in your eyes. You do look just like him."

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Him?

    "Becoming like me is about more than training. It¡¯s a mindset that you must master. Are you prepared for that?"

    "Yes."

    I stood straighter as my confidence surged.

    I will become stronger.

    Sin gave me an amused nod.

    "On top of regular training, I will give you three lessons with three parts: a word, a challenge and a clue. You will receive a word, the challenge of defining that word and a clue to help you. There is no limit on how many times you can take the challenge and no time limit. Once you correctly define a word and master its meaning, we will move on to the next lesson. Once you master all three lessons, you will be my equal. Are you ready?"

    "Yes."

    YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!

    "Good, then let''s begin."

    She reached behind herself and pulled out an old, brown leather-bound book. Sin slid it across the table and gestured me forward.

    As I ran my hands over the roughly used cover, she spoke.

    "The word is utility. The clue is the page I folded in that book."

    I frowned.

    "Um... I can''t read."

    Sin laughed, a sharp, almost mocking sound that made me flinch.

    "Are you going to let something like that stop you? Talk to Mr. Reeves. He taught the twins how to read."

    I opened the book, flipping through its pages.

    "Not here. This room isn''t for reading."

    True enough. The dim candlelight made it hard to make out the letters.

    "What is this room for then?"

    "To unwind. It''s the only place in this mansion where I can be myself."

    Sin leaned back into her chair, holding her knife close to her chest.

    "Why do you have to pretend to be something you''re not?"

    "Because no one is free in this world. Not even me."

    "Oh¡­ I''m sorry."

    Her head jerked as she turned to me. I pulled the book close to my chest to protect myself from the intensity of her veiled gaze.

    ¡°I... It... It must be terrible to live your life hidden away.¡±

    Sin giggled her girlish laugh, standing up to walk around the table. She slid her knife into the secret pocket of her skirt and patted my head with the same hand.

    "You¡¯re a kind soul, Jacob. We''ll get rid of that soon enough. Now run along. I''ll be here when you''re ready to take the challenge."

    I walked out of the room shaking, hugging the book with all my strength.

    Sin believed in me! She believed that I could be like her. The dead bodies of Lord Severn and his manservant flashed in my mind. The world painted red with their blood¡ªthe world as Sin saw it. It was within my grasp.

    I smiled and turned to walk down the hallway as a shock of blonde hair disappeared around the corner. I walked faster, ignoring my protesting feet. Around the corner, Cynthia ducked low, pressing herself against the wall.

    "You saw me, didn''t you?" She asked.

    "Why are you following me?"

    "I wanted to see what would happen to you. I can''t believe you''re alive!"

    "Of course, I''m alive."

    "Whoa!"

    I stood straighter and puffed out my chest, making the book I held more noticeable.

    "What''s that?"

    "A book Sin- I mean, Lady Sin gave me."

    "Can I see?"

    "Sure!"

    I pushed the book in her face, almost snapping her head back as she knelt against the wall. Standing up, she rubbed her sore nose and looked at the book''s cover.

    "A book of poetry? Mr. Reeves loves these things."

    She flipped through the book, stopping at a page with a creased corner. Cynthia¡¯s eyebrows furrowed as she read the page. As she continued, her eyes went wide as she snapped the book shut.

    "What does it say?" I asked.

    "Um... I''ll let Mr.Reeves explain it."

    She shoved the book back in my hands and rushed down the hallway in a flutter of black and white cloth.

    It couldn''t be that bad. Could it?

    After wandering around the mansion, I stumbled upon Mr. Reeves in his room on the third floor. He sat on his bed, a book with a distressed beige cover in his hand. I knocked on the open door.

    "Jacob?" Mr. Reeves said, drying the tears budding in the corner of his eyes.

    "Mr. Reeves, is this a good time?"

    "Of course, it is. Come in."

    I walked through the door. His room smelled of old paper and ink. A side table stood in front of his bed, with half-scribbled papers scattered over its surface.

    "Don''t mind the mess. Please sit."

    I sat down beside him, unclenching my fingers around Sin''s book.

    "And what''s this?"

    "A book. Lady Sin gave it to me."

    Mr. Reeves cocked his head.

    "May I see?"

    I held up the book like an offering as he tucked his beige book beneath his pillow. He picked it up and examined the weathered cover.

    "Poetry! I love poetry."

    He flipped through the pages, stopping at the dog-eared page.

    "Lady Sin wanted me to read that."

    Mr. Reeves read over the page, his eyes widening as he got to the bottom.

    "Oh dear, why would she want you to read this?!"

    "What does it say?"

    His face blanched.

    "I... I think you should read this on your own when you''re ready. Do you want to learn to read, Jacob?"

    I nodded my head.

    He gave me a tight-lipped smile, the corners of his eyes creasing.

    "Then let''s get started..."

 Original Sin Part 5

    At night, I dreamed of howling dogs. I ran barefoot through the empty, moonlight streets of the Lower District, the hounds on my heels. They were close, too close for me to look back. In between my pained breathing, the soft slap of their footfalls spiked my growing terror. I cut into a familiar alleyway, stopping at the tall, brick wall that loomed over me¡ªa dead end.

    Wait, this wasn''t right. Things were different now. I¡¯d changed.

    The low growls of dogs made me turn to the lip of the alley. Hidden by the shadow of the buildings, only their glowing, red eyes were visible in the gloom. They approached at a gradual pace, one human hand followed by another. Kirk crept forward on all fours, stripped naked except for the leather collar around his neck. My other friends followed, blood-crazed eyes gleaming and saliva dribbling on the cobblestone.

    "I-I did what I had to do. Y-You couldn''t keep up. None of you could!"

    As if to prove me wrong, they leapt forward with blinding speed, tearing into my flesh and painting the alley red.

    I woke up on the floor screaming, the back of my head slamming against the hardwood as I rocked back in shock.

    My chest heaved as I caught my breath and surveyed my surroundings. The morning sun cast a bloody light through my red curtains. My unused bed lay beside me, inviting me to dive into its sheets like a fresh snow field. The bed cover, wrapped around me like a cocoon, was all I needed.

    After months of living in the mansion, I still found the softness of the bed''s mattress disturbing. It felt too much like sinking, and at night, I feared that my soul would fall into the earth like my friends. It was the fate that awaited all people of this world. The fate I almost experienced firsthand on that night.

    I forced myself to stand. My feet were healed, but my hands were sore. Gren had taken a liking to me, and Mrs. Dulldrey put me to work helping him in the kitchen. I didn''t mind. The man knew how to entertain me with his crude humour and old war stories. The work was also better than the orphanage, where they lent us out as cleaners for the small, cramped spaces adults couldn¡¯t reach. I dressed in one of Mr. Reeves¡¯ old shirts tailored by Mrs. Dulldrey and loped to the kitchen. I walked by Cindra on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor.

    "What was it this time?"

    Cindra looked up at me, a blank expression on her face before returning to her work.

    I liked Cindra¡ªor, to be accurate, I liked the puzzle of her. How could someone who looked exactly like Cynthia have such a different personality? It was a mystery that kept me talking to her despite Cynthia''s growing irritation.

    "I stole an apple from Gren," she said in her casual, bored tone.

    "I don''t get it. If you just asked him, I''m sure he would give it to you."

    She frowned.

    "Where we''re from, asking doesn''t get you very far."

    She had a point. Sin asked me to live in this mansion, and the same thing had happened to her and Cynthia with Mr. Reeves. Although, she was wrong about one thing.

    "Well, I asked Lady Sin to teach me how to..."

    I cut myself off. My training was supposed to be a secret.

    Cindra gave me a blank stare.

    "Teach you what?"

    "Um... How to be a noble."

    Cindra scoffed.

    "I guess you''re lucky... or special."

    "Maybe I am special-"

    She rolled her eyes. I crouched down on the balls of my feet, leaning close to her ear.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    "But if I am, so are you."

    She stopped scrubbing the floor to look at me, the edges of her mouth bent upwards at the slightest angle. I blinked in surprise.

    Was Cindra smiling?!

    I grinned back at her.

    "I''ll save you a bowl at breakfast."

    I walked to the kitchen to find Mrs. Dulldrey, Mr. Reeves, and Cynthia seated at the table. Gren stood over the cauldron at the fireplace. Cynthia waved at me.

    "Jacob over here!"

    Gren looked at me over his shoulder and gave him a wink. I understood his meaning. I sat beside Cynthia as Gren doled out vegetable stew into our wooden bowls. This time he added eggs.

    Mrs. Dulldrey looked at me over her steaming bowl.

    "Jacob. I hear you''re learning common faster than expected."

    "Yes, Mrs. Dulldrey! I''m finding reading easier than writing, though."

    Mr. Reeves smiled.

    "I''m proud of you, my boy. I think you''re ready..."

    He reached underneath the table and slid a weathered, brown book across its surface¡ªthe book Sin had given me many months ago.

    "You let me hold on to this. Now, I give it back to you. You should read the page."

    Mr. Reeves''s sombre tone caught me off guard, and it wasn''t only him. The atmosphere of the entire room had changed.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Nothing. Nothing at all,¡± Mr. Reeves said. He smiled again, this time flashing his teeth.

    My hands trembled as I reached out and flipped through the book, settling on the dog-eared page.

    The poem was short: six sentences, each a stanza. I read it out loud.

    "The elves came from another plane,

    To kill, defile and cut in twain.¡±

    I stopped.

    Kill? Defile?

    I turned to Mr. Reeves. He sat with his eyes closed, his head leaning forward on steepled fingers. I continued.

    ¡°From the west, their forces spread,

    Leaving many beastkin dead.

    Through rivers of blood, they made their claim,

    Giving our land its name.

    They spread their seed to give us life,

    Unleashing an age of strife.

    Now, our spirits linger when we die,

    In the earth, forever, they lie.

    To them- ¡°

    I stopped. My mouth was dry.

    ¡°Finish the poem, Jacob,¡± Mrs. Dulldrey said.

    There was a hardness to her tone that did not allow debate.

    ¡°To them, no mercy or quarter we give,

    Suffer¡­ not one elf to live."

    Silence fell over the room as I forced out the last sentence. Grim faces surrounded the table as I surveyed the room.

    I laughed at the tension in the air and the dread bubbling in my gut.

    "What is this?!"

    "The truth," Mrs. Dulldrey said, her face unblinking, carved from stone. Mr. Reeves opened his eyes to look at me across the table.

    "It''s an old poem from an old time, older than Luskaine."

    The truth? The truth was no one knew about the old history at my orphanage. I only knew what the other boys did: elves were evil. It was a simple statement that I had carved into my heart.

    "Is this why people hate me?!"

    "Well... yes," Mr. Reeves said, wincing at his words.

    The faces in the room blurred as tears ran down my face.

    "The bullying, the pranks, the dirty looks from people on the street. I always thought there was something wrong with me, that I was broken, but they''re mad at me for something dead elves did in the past?!"

    My voice cracked as I pushed down the emotion bubbling below the surface.

    Cynthia wrapped her arm around my shoulders.

    "Well, I don''t think you''re broken."

    Mrs. Dulldrey and Mr. Reeves'' smudged faces turned to each other.

    "It''s a bit more complicated than that, Jacob."

    I wiped my tears into my sleeves.

    "How?"

    Mr. Reeves squirmed in his seat.

    "T-This is a sensitive subject."

    Mrs. Dulldrey frowned.

    "If you''re not going to tell him, I will. When the Old Elvish Empire fell, the freed humans killed most elves. The poem was a call to war."

    "That¡¯s an oversimplification, Mrs. Dulldrey. The Old Elvish Empire suffered many rebellions before its'' collapse," Mr. Reeves said.

    "Enough! All this talk of death and destruction spoils the food," Gren said.

    "We agreed that it was best to discuss the subject when all of us were here," Mr. Reeves said.

    "Then discuss the subject instead of hiding the dirt under the rug!" Mrs. Dulldrey said.

    I drowned out their bickering; their voices sounded muffled as I sank deeper into myself.

    The poem was impressive. It summarized thousands of years of history in five short sentences and told me about myself.

    I wasn¡¯t evil. Then what was I, and what did this have to do with utility?

    "Why did Sin tell me to read this poem?"

    The adults at the table stopped talking and looked at me.

    Did I say that out loud?

    "She wanted to toughen you up. Childhood is no better time to learn hard truths," Mrs.Dulldrey said.

    Cynthia squeezed me closer to her.

    "I think it was a trick to make you learn something new."

    "Clearly, the mistress wanted to motivate you and help you understand your place in the world," Mr. Reeves said.

    "Who cares? The stew is getting cold!" Gren said.

    A deep belly laugh wracked my body, making Cynthia give me an odd look.

    So that''s what utility meant.

    She shook me.

    "I was wrong. Maybe you are broken."

    After breakfast, I cleaned everyone''s plates and took slow steps to the Red Room. I hesitated in front of the black door. Sin told me I could take the challenge as many times as needed, but was that true? What if my answers were so bad that she kicked me out of the mansion and back onto the street? I took a long, deep breath, steadying my raised hand and pressing the poetry book tighter to my chest.

    KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

    "Yes?" Sin asked, her voice muffled.

    "It''s Jacob. I''m ready for the first challenge."

    There was a moment of silence that made me hold my breath.

    "Already? Fine, come in."

 Original Sin Part 6

    As I entered, I found Sin in a rigid handstand; her long skirt fell over her head to reveal baggy red pants tucked into her knee-high boots. Upon hearing the door open, she fell forward, landing on her feet in a half cartwheel. She smoothed out her skirt and took a seat behind the rectangular table.

    "I didn''t expect you for another month."

    She ran her fingers along the familiar forward-bent knife resting on the table. I closed the door and stepped forward. In the dim lantern light, more things were visible on the table: a red cloth bundle and a dagger with a broad triangular blade.

    My fingers tightened around the worn poetry book.

    "I read the poem at breakfast today."

    "That must have ruined the mood."

    "I-I know what utility means now."

    "Alright, tell me."

    She slid her weapons under the table and kicked up her feet.

    "Utility is about being useful. The poem you told me to read boiled down thousands of years of history into a few sentences."

    "True, what else?"

    "The poem also helped me understand the past and why people treat me the way they do."

    She gave me a dismissive wave.

    "A decent start, nestling. You''re halfway there."

    "I also asked everyone why you asked me to read the poem."

    Sin cocked her head.

    "And what did they say?"

    I listed the different explanations on my hand.

    "Mrs. Dulldrey said it was to make me tough. Mr. Reeves said it was to help me understand my place in the world. Cynthia thought it was to teach me something new."

    "And?"

    "They were all right. That''s utility: one thing with many uses."

    She slid her feet off the table and leaned forward.

    "Exactly! Anything can be useful. The real value of something is how many uses it has. The same is true for actions. It''s always better to kill two birds with one stone."

    I grinned from ear to ear.

    I was right! I knew I was right.

    Sin steepled her fingers as she fixed me with her veiled gaze.

    "You¡¯ve impressed me, Jacob. I was right to take you in. You will be useful.¡±

    I blushed at her praise. She continued.

    ¡°There were many reasons for you to read that poem. The most important reason was to teach you about language. There is no skill with greater utility."

    So, Cynthia was right. I would have to tell her later.

    "Why?"

    "When the elves came to this plane, they brought their language with them¡ªnot the watered-down Low Elvish Mr. Reeves is teaching you but the original High Elvish.¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    I mouthed the words.

    High Elvish...

    Sin nodded.

    "High Elvish is the heart of every magic system in the Abyssal Lands."

    "Every... there''s more than one?!"

    "Yes. Learning High Elvish will be your sword and shield in the future. Beginning tomorrow, I will teach you High Elvish after your time with Mr. Reeves."

    My heart fluttered.

    "You¡­ You mean I''ll get to learn magic!"

    Sin raised a hand.

    "Don''t be so quick to spread your wings. This is only the beginning. Which reminds me..."

    She reached for the bundle of cloth on the table and tossed it at me.

    I stumbled forward to catch it in the crook of my elbows.

    "You''re ready for the second lesson: Misdirection."

    I put the book on the table and pulled the bundle''s string. The ends of the blood-red fabric rolled onto the floor. It was a long coat similar in style and colour to Sin''s clothing.

    "I asked Mrs. Dulldrey to make it for you. It''s your clue for the second challenge."

    I grinned, flipping the coat over my head and stuffing my arms through the sleeves. It fit me like a second skin, cutting off below my knees.

    "Thank you, Sin. I love it!"

    She scoffed as she leaned back into her chair.

    "Thank Mrs. Dulldrey and don''t forget why I gave it to you."

    I hadn''t forgotten. I repeated the word in my mind until it sank in.

    Misdirection.

    If this challenge was like the first, her definition would have more than one part. I ran my hand along the coat''s lining, feeling the smooth edges of hidden pockets across the chest. If I figured out the second challenge, could I get to the third lesson in one day? That would impress Sin even more.

    "Can I do the challenge now?"

    She shrugged.

    "Why not?"

    Sin pulled out her forward-bent knife and balanced the hawk¡¯s head pommel on her index finger.

    "Misdirection is judging a book by its cover. People look at me and see the crimes of the Old Elvish Empire. They look at you and..."

    "And?"

    "They see a freak."

    She laughed, flipping the knife in the air and catching it in her hand.

    "That''s one word for it.¡±

    She cocked her head.

    ¡°Why do you think I dress the way I do?"

    "To get attention."

    She nodded.

    "That''s one reason."

    Right... utility.

    I scratched the back of my head, thinking of the first thing that came to mind.

    "Um... to hide?"

    She clapped her hands, the right hand still closed around the handle of the knife.

    "Bravo, nestling. To get attention and to hide. The two are opposites, yet I do both at the same time. How is this possible?"

    I took in the vision of Sin. In the ominous lighting, she stood out in all red, yet I knew nothing about her, what she could do or what else was concealed on her body.

    "You hide in plain sight. They look at you and see the feathers, not the fangs."

    "Very good! That is misdirection. This world is a collection of lies. Our eyes lie, our ears lie, we lie. Those with strong will shape the lies and bend reality.¡±

    She pointed her knife at me.

    ¡°You pass."

    I grinned wider, my chest swelling as I stood straighter.

    "Does that mean I''m ready for the third lesson?"

    She laughed.

    "No, not even close¡­ Utility and misdirection. You understand what these words mean, but you must master them. Live these two principles so completely that you see them everywhere. Do you understand?"

    I nodded.

    "Yes!"

    Two lessons down and one to go. It was only a matter of time until I was Sin¡¯s equal.

    She nodded back, accepting my words.

    "One more thing..."

    She placed her knife on the table and slid it across, pommel first. It knocked the poetry book onto the floor at my feet.

    "Your real training begins now."

    I picked up the knife; my smiling face reflected on the surface of the blade.

    "Finally! I had some time to kill."

 Original Sin Part 7

    "I''m ready for the third lesson!"

    I stood across the table from Sin in the Red Room. She leaned back in her chair, feet up and hands behind her head.

    "You''re not," she said, bored indifference colouring her voice.

    The nature of our relationship had not changed despite how much I had. Broad-shouldered and thick-muscled, I loomed over the seated woman who was once like a giant to me.

    "I''ve been training for ten years. I''m ready."

    ¡­Ready to be your equal.

    I picked up the forward-bent knife on the table, spinning it between my fingers. I flipped it into a reverse grip and stabbed into the table. The hawk head pommel faced Sin, shaking from the force of my maneuver.

    "Hmph..."

    Sin''s veil creased into a playful smirk. After years, I could make out the facial expressions hidden behind the thin mask.

    She slipped her feet off the table and held out her left hand. The ruby eyes of the hawk''s head pommel glowed, and the knife flew into her waiting palm. She placed it in front of her on the table.

    "Sin. You can''t keep stalling. I have a lot more to learn from you."

    "You''re young, what''s the rush?"

    I scratched the back of my head, my long locs of hair tied in a loose top knot.

    "This has something to do with Cynthia, doesn''t it?"

    "It''s not about her! It''s about me. When are you going to teach me magic?"

    "First, you want the third lesson. Now, you''re talking about magic. Make up your mind."

    "Sin..."

    "I''ll teach you when you''re ready."

    "How will I know I''m ready?"

    "You won''t. I will."

    "That''s not good enough!"

    "Fine!"

    Sin threw up her hands, standing up from her chair to walk to the weapon rack against the room''s left wall. It was a new addition to the Red Room that she had made me install.

    Sin pulled out two blunted short swords and tossed one at me. This is how arguments with her usually went: reason and logic escalating to violence. I caught the knife in my left hand, whirling it around and pointing it at her.

    "Is that all you are, Jacob? Flashy moves."

    She settled into a wide stance, her weapon raised to her chest.

    ¡°If you win, I¡¯ll teach you the third lesson.¡±

    I smirked.

    That¡¯s all I needed to hear.

    I slipped into a stance that mirrored Sin, weapon forward with a slight bend in my knees. My elbows pointed down to leave fewer openings. I emptied my mind of everything except one thought: victory. It had always eluded me against Sin, but things were different now. I had a deadline.

    "Are you ready to lose, Sin?"

    She laughed.

    "You''d sooner catch the wind."

    She lunged from halfway across the room. I made a desperate parry, knocking her weapon down. She rode the momentum of my parry, spinning her knife around for a slash that met my blade. She pushed against me with a force three times stronger than a woman her size should have. I pushed back to not give ground. A moment later, the resistance disappeared. I pulled back to not overextend myself as a vice grabbed my wrist.

    Sin pushed my arm up and ducked under it, spinning around to slam her pommel into the back of my left shoulder. She trapped my arm, bending me over by holding my wrist and pushing my shoulder down. I rolled forward with the momentum, spinning into her until my feet were in front of her body. I slipped my foot behind her ankle and pulled my other leg back to kick her off balance.

    She let go of my wrist and hopped back, avoiding my sweep. I rolled backward into a crouch on the balls of my feet and leaped forward. Sin met my advance with a retreat, jumping backward. I swung my weapon, hoping to graze her. She met my swing with her own, igniting a shower of sparks in the dim room. She turned side face and launched a back kick at my chest, knocking me to the floor and the wind out of my lungs.

    Sin leapt over me as I blinked out of my daze, her arms spread wide like a bird of prey.

    She was open.

    I flipped my short sword into a reverse grip and threw it at her chest. With supernatural speed, she swept her arm across her body, beating my knife aside. She landed with her feet straddling my chest. Sin flipped her short sword into a reverse grip, knelt and pressed the blunt point to my forehead.

    "Not. Ready."

    I bared my teeth. The tip of the dull weapon pressed deeper into my skin.

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    "What are we, Jacob?"

    I took a deep breath.

    "Weapons... We¡¯re weapons."

    "Then act like it. Sheathe yourself."

    She stood up and walked back to the weapon rack, yanking my practice sword out of the wall to put the weapons in their place. The mark she left on my forehead throbbed, a new scar for my collection.

    I took my time standing up, pushing down the frustration bubbling below the surface as Sin slipped behind the table and reclined in her chair.

    ¡°Close the door on your way out.¡±

    My lips twisted in a snarl.

    ¡°I always do, Sin.¡±

    I slammed the door as I left the Red Room. My blood was hot. I was tired of spirit-cursed Sin and this spirits-cursed mansion! I clenched and unclenched my hands. I needed something to hurt.

    A familiar figure scrubbing the floor caught my attention. I sighed, my tension easing.

    "What is it this time?"

    Cindra looked up at me, a smug look on her face. She had grown into her beauty, cutting her blonde hair in a messy bobcut like Mrs. Dulldrey.

    "I stole some of Gren''s eggs," she said in her usual monotone voice.

    I knelt in front of her.

    "How long are you going to keep this up?"

    "Not much longer. Cynthia is almost ready to leave. She¡¯s just waiting for someone."

    My face flushed.

    "Why don''t you join us for breakfast."

    "But Mrs. Dulldrey-"

    "I''m Lady Sin''s heir. I outrank her."

    I held out my hand.

    "My lady..."

    She quirked an eyebrow, taking my hand and linking arm in arm as we walked to the kitchen.

    "Besides, you can take a day off from stealing, don''t you think?"

    "I don''t know what you''re talking about."

    A slight smile played on her lips.

    "It''s a good bit of misdirection. Pretend to be a horrible thief so Mrs. Dulldrey and Mr. Reeves don''t suspect your skills. Be forced to do chores that leave you alone while everyone else is in one place. When Sin adopted me, I was a hiccup in your plans. So, you made sure I would see you working every morning on the way to the kitchen."

    "Please speak louder. Let the whole mansion here you."

    I smiled.

    "Why would I rat out my teacher? You''re the best thief I''ve ever seen. Better than Sin."

    "Speaking of... what''s been going on with you two lately?"

    My smile became rigid.

    "I don''t want to talk about it," I said through clenched teeth.

    I stopped in front of one of the many portraits in the mansion. The obese man leered back at us through the painting, his greasy brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

    ¡°Did we ever figure out who this guy was?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re just trying to change the subject. Who cares. He¡¯s probably some distant relative of Lady Sin.¡±

    ¡°Whose portraits are all over the mansion.¡±

    I rubbed my chin.

    Sin and her secrets.

    As we entered the kitchen, the smell of vegetable stew and roasted meat assaulted our senses. As usual, Gren hunched over the cauldron while Mrs. Dulldrey, Mr. Reeves and Cynthia sat at the wooden table.

    Mrs. Dulldrey looked puzzled as we walked through the door. Cindra slipped her arm out of mine and walked to where Mr. Reeves sat.

    "What''s she doing here?"

    Mrs. Dulldrey attempted to look stern but no longer had it in her. The death of her youngest son in the border war with Dahlgesh had taken away her edge and her appetite. She had withered to half her former size, with her back bent from grief.

    "I thought we could delay her punishment for an hour."

    "Fine. She can stay."

    I smirked at Cindra.

    "Jacob..."

    Cynthia waved me over, her hazel eyes half-lidded with a smile that radiated like the sun. Unlike her sister, she had grown out her hair, letting the long, golden tresses fall down her back. I took my usual seat beside her and let wrap her arm around mine.

    Across the table, Mr. Reeves smiled at me. His face crinkled like the paper he loved to write on. The one smooth thing about him was the top of his bald head, ringed by greying hair. He patted Cindra''s hand as she sat near him.

    I wonder if she felt guilty about robbing the old man blind.

    "What did I miss?" I asked.

    "Cynthia was regaling us with all the places she plans to visit," Mr. Reeves said.

    "You¡¯d better be careful out there, girl," Mrs. Dulldrey said.

    "I know how to take care of myself. Besides, I''ll have this one with me."

    She pulled me in closer.

    "I think Mrs. Dulldrey is saying she''ll miss you," I said.

    "How could I not?! I raised you a sorry lot for over ten years."

    She dabbed the corner of her eyes. Cynthia leaned over to wrap her in a tight hug, kissing the old woman on the cheek.

    "Don''t worry. We''ll visit often. While we¡¯re away, Cindra will keep you company."

    "Company?! What kind of company is that?"

    Cindra frowned across the table at Mrs. Dulldrey.

    Mr. Reeves patted the young woman on the hand, giving her a warm, tight-lipped smile.

    "Play nice, Cindra."

    Cindra pulled her hand back, opening her mouth to speak.

    "Breakfast is ready!" Gren said.

    He spun around with a plate in his large hand. Where Mrs. Dulldrey had lost weight over the years, Gren had ballooned in size. He balanced a plate of roasted chicken, cheese, and bread on his swollen fingers, early signs of gout. It served him right for always sampling my food.

    "For you, my young Lord."

    "Thanks, Gren."

    "And for his blushing bride-to-be."

    He turned back to the cauldron and returned with a hot bowl of vegetable stew for Cynthia. It was thick with an extra serving of barley.

    Cynthia flashed him an awkward smile.

    "Gren, we aren''t engaged."

    "You aren''t? Why not?"

    The women at the table looked at me with varying degrees of scorn.

    I focused on eating the food in front of me.

    "Maybe he''s fallen for the charms of the lovely Cindra?" Gren said.

    I almost choked.

    Gren, why did you love stirring the pot?!

    I lifted my head to see Cynthia staring at me with a raised eyebrow and Cindra fidgeting with her hands.

    This was the last thing I needed this morning.

    Gren ran his thumb and index finger through his greying mustache.

    "Or he could marry both. You know what they say about twins, one spirit in two bodies!"

    "Gren, you cad!" Mrs. Dulldrey said.

    Mr. Reeves laughed.

    "Spoken like a true glutton."

    Everyone laughed except for me, Cynthia, and Cindra.

    This day couldn''t end soon enough.

    # # #

    When night came, I slipped under the covers of my bed. The sinking feeling was comforting now¡ªa moment of relief from the day''s frustrations.

    Marriage...

    Weapons didn''t get married, but weapons didn''t eat or sleep either. What even is a weapon? Sin held the last piece of the puzzle. I raised my hand to the ceiling. If I could just stick it out a little longer¡­ My training would be complete, and I could finally leave this place with Cynthia.

    The thought twisted my stomach. As frustrated as Sin made me, I would miss her and the place that had been my home for ten years. I turned to my side, pulling the covers over my shoulders.

    I was warm¡ªsafe.

    A moment later, the door to my room crept open in slow, gradual movements. Its¡¯ hinges squeaked in protest, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

    I slipped my hand under my pillow, wrapping my fingers around the dagger I kept sheathed in my bed.

    A single point of dim light glowed through the entryway.

    No, not now. Not that dream again.

    "Jacob?"

    The voice was a low whisper from across the room.

    A figure in white stepped through the door, the lantern light highlighting her blonde hair.

    "Cynthia?!" I said in a whisper.

    She flashed a gleeful smile and closed the door behind her. Her linen shift was loose with billowing sleeves and a wide neckline that drooped off her right shoulder. It swayed in a hypnotic pattern as she walked barefoot to my side of the bed. I let go of my dagger and rolled onto my back as she sat at the edge. She set the lantern on the dresser and smiled again over her shoulder.

    "Bad dreams?"

    "Always."

    "Is there anything I can do about that?"

    She quirked her eyebrow, letting the shift slip lower.

    I paused.

    "Are you sure?"

    She grinned and blew out the lantern''s candle.

 Original Sin Part 8

    The dog¡¯s howls echoed through the narrow alleyways¡ªthe meat must be close.

    Kirk gripped the dog''s chains tighter as they guided us through the shadows of the Lower District. How many days had we spent prowling the arteries of the Lower District? Arteries? Yes, these passageways were like veins clogged with society''s filth¡ªbeggars, cripples and orphans, pitiful in their current state, but not for long.

    Soon, I would free them from their suffering. I would give them purpose. I would kill them and let their soul''s quintessence soak into my family''s land. Was there ever a more perfect union?

    Kirk turned to me, his big, blue eyes gleaming above his crooked sneer. He was enjoying the hunt more than me.

    "Over here, my Lord."

    He pointed his torch to an alleyway.

    Why was it familiar?

    Kirk raised his torch to the alley¡¯s edge, letting the flames flicker against the walls; there was only darkness ahead.

    "Send the dogs first."

    "My Lord?"

    "You heard me."

    Kirk let the chains go, letting the hunting dogs bolt into the darkness. The jingling of metal chains rattling against the cobblestone followed behind them.

    A moment later, the rattling stopped. Howls of hunting turned to pain, whimpering and then¡­ silence.

    "I didn''t want to kill a noble tonight."

    Slow footsteps echoed out of the alleyway. Sin''s red-veiled face emerged from the darkness, her forward-bent knife in her left hand.

    "Lord?! What do we do?"

    I turned to Kirk as her knife flashed through the air and severed his neck with a sickening slice. His head tumbled to Sin''s feet, eyes still wide with shock. She took another slow step, pressing down on his head until his eyes bulged and his skull cracked open. My stomach lurched, making bitter bile flood into my mouth and soak into the black bandana around my face.

    The knife boomeranged back into her left hand.

    "Wait. Wait! Please... Please stop."

    Sin cocked her head, her left-hand fidgeting.

    "No... Not this time."

    Before I could say another word, she raised her knife hand and sliced my throat.

    I woke up gasping, clawing at the burning hot wound across my neck.

    "Hey. Hey!"

    Cynthia grabbed my wrists, pushing my hands against my chest.

    A dream. Only a dream¡­

    The morning light shining through the curtains bathed the room red¡ªthe world as Sin saw it. I squeezed my eyes shut.

    Breathe. Breathe damn it! Breathe...

    I opened my eyes. Cynthia was looking at me, the concern written on her face. She sighed, resting her forehead on my chest.

    "You weren''t kidding about the bad dreams. Are they always this bad?"

    "No... It''s never been like that."

    I fell back into my pillow, catching my breath.

    "It''s a sign."

    "Of what?"

    "To leave. How long have we been stuck in this mansion? Ten years for you? Eleven for me. It''s like a prison."

    I laughed.

    "And what do know about prisons?"

    "Alright. You got me there."

    Cynthia pulled away from me and rolled onto her back. A moment later, I realized we were naked under the covers. Her shift was discarded at the foot of the bed, torn down the middle.

    "It''s more like a fancy inn. Nice for a while, but eventually, you want to move on." Cynthia said, putting her hands behind her head.

    I shook my head.

    "I can''t leave yet."

    "That''s what you said yesterday, last week, and the week before that."

    "I''m so close..."

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    "To what?"

    I turned away from her, rolling onto my right side. She rolled over, pressing herself against my back.

    "Think about it... nothing but the open road ahead of us..."

    And bandits waiting in ambush.

    "...crowded market squares..."

    With pickpockets cutting our purse strings.

    "...bustling taverns..."

    Bar fights waiting to break out.

    "I''ll think about it," I said.

    "Good."

    She kissed me behind the ear.

    "Oh, yeah! Do you want to hear something crazy?"

    "Sure."

    "Yesterday, Cindra found me at lunch and handed me a small fortune in gold coins. She said it was to help with our trip. I''ve been saving for years but have nowhere near as much as her. Where did she get it all from?"

    I shrugged under the bed covers.

    "You and Cindra rarely see eye to eye, but she cares about you."

    She rested her chin on my shoulder.

    "I know. When our parents got sick, she looked out for me before Mr. Reeves adopted us and brought us here.¡±

    She giggled.

    ¡°I swear she let herself get caught by Mr. Reeves. She used to be such a good pickpocket. I don''t know what happened to her."

    "She got rusty," I lied.

    "Hmm... I think I''ll go to the market and get her something nice with some of her money."

    "She''d like that."

    My bedroom door burst open. Mrs. Dulldrey stood in the door frame with a leather belt dangling from her right hand.

    "You no-good, freeloading hussy!"

    The bed covers slid off my body as Cynthia stood up and covered herself. Mrs. Dulldrey met Cynthia at the foot of my bed, swinging her belt in wide arcs. Cynthia faked left and sidestepped to the right, throwing my bed covers over the old woman''s head. She grabbed her torn shift, turned to me and smiled before dashing out of the room.

    Spirits below, I love that woman.

    After calming down Mrs. Dulldrey, I knocked on Mr. Reeves''s door. The man cracked it open, wearing a bed robe and a warm smile.

    "My, quite the commotion this morning."

    "Can I come in?"

    "Of course."

    I walked in and fell into the chair at the foot of his bed.

    "Busy morning, my Lord?"

    "Just another day at the mansion. Here, I wanted to give this back."

    I lifted a thick blue tome with yellowed pages.

    "Ah, yes. My compendium on the Luskaine Dahlgesh war. What did you think?"

    "I like Gren''s war stories more. He was an officer before... you know." I said, pointing at my left wrist.

    "Yes, it''s easy to forget he has a sharp tactical mind beneath all that bad humour."

    He shook his head.

    "So many of us lived other lives before we came to this mansion. I was a failed writer."

    "And I was an orphan."

    Mr. Reeves nodded his head.

    "Like Cynthia and Cindra."

    "What was Mrs. Dulldrey before she came to the mansion?¡±

    "Oh, I think she was born with a broom in her hands. I heard her shouting... What happened?"

    My face flushed.

    "She found Cynthia in my bed."

    "Oh... Were you two-"

    I nodded.

    Mr. Reeves sighed and chuckled to himself.

    "I guess that''s to be expected at your age. Let me talk to her."

    "Thanks. It''s only a matter of time until Mrs. Dulldrey hunts Cynthia down."

    "Mrs. Dulldrey is a stickler for these types of things. I also need you to do something for me."

    He turned to his dresser by his bed and shuffled through the nearest drawer. He pulled out a silver chain intertwined with two plain gold rings.

    I stiffened in my chair.

    "Are those..."

    Mr. Reeves nodded, a knowing smile on his face.

    "My late husband gave me this. He was a writer too¡ªmuch better than me," he said with a smile.

    I had seen the jewelry around the old man''s neck many times, and now I knew why. He dropped it into my hands; the rings were heavy and warm.

    "Now, what did he say again? Ah, yes. These rings were forged in a fire hot enough to survive our love. Romantic, don''t you think?"

    I squirmed in my chair.

    "Yeah... romantic. I-I think should go."

    "Jacob..."

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    "You shouldn''t wait for happiness."

    I left without another word, pacing down the corridors to the second floor. The rings burned in my hand. My neck itched where Sin tore into my throat.

    No, that was a dream... right?

    I was a child again, running from the question that had hounded me for ten, long years.

    KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

    "Nestling?"

    I barged my way into the room. Sin was leaning back in her chair, feet on the table and her forward-bent knife tucked in her lap.

    "What are you-"

    "That night... ten years ago... why were you in the Lower District?"

    She cocked her head, running her thumb along her knife''s crooked blade.

    "You said weren''t there to kill a noble. Who were you there to kill?"

    Her left hand twitched. My eyes widened. My breathing quickened into short bursts.

    What am I doing?

    "W-Were you there to kill me?"

    Silence fell over the room as Sin slipped her feet off the table. The door behind me creaked shut, pushed by a gentle gust of wind. The sound sent a shiver up my spine, but I stood firm.

    I am the hunter, not the hunted.

    Sin turned to face me, placing the knife on the table, its¡¯ sharp edge forward.

    "Yes¡­ I was."

 Original Sin Part 9

    My face contorted, caught between a laugh and a scream. I shook my head, retreating until my back pressed against the door. A word stumbled out of my lips as ragged and wounded as my insides felt.

    "Why?"

    Sin steepled her fingers, leaning forward on the table. Her veil had no creases¡ªno expression hidden behind her red mask. She was a weapon.

    "There was a job I needed to finish."

    I cackled.

    "And instead of finishing it, you took in me and raised me for ten years!"

    She gave me a dismissive wave.

    "Mrs. Dulldrey and the rest raised you-"

    "And you trained me!¡±

    I laughed in disbelief.

    ¡°Is that why you haven¡¯t finished my training? Because I¡¯ll be harder for you to kill?! No, I get it now. You''re afraid of me, afraid I''ll become a threat to you!¡±

    Sin cocked her head.

    "YOU... A THREAT...TO ME?! YOU. ARE. NOTHING to me! Not my enemy! Not my ward! Not my son! You''re just a scared little boy who couldn''t stand on his own."

    I raised my arms like an animal making itself bigger.

    "Then kill me! Kill me or train me! Make up your mind, Sin!¡±

    "Out. Out! Get out!"

    "Make up your mind!"

    "GET OUT!"

    She balled her left hand into a fist and slammed it through the table. A moment later, cracks spiderwebbed on its surface. The wood splintered and creaked as the table collapsed in on itself.

    Spirits below!

    She bent forward, still in her chair, scavenging through the debris to find her knife. She picked it up, cradling it in her arms like a child.

    "Y-You¡¯re insane!"

    She didn''t respond, curling into herself on the only chair in the room. That was more unsettling. I expected violence¡ªanger, not this.

    I left, walking out of the room in a daze, my new reality swirling around me.

    What am I? A weapon? A hunter? A victim? Why would Sin take in and train someone she wanted to kill? Why did she stop training me?

    Only one thing was real: the warm rings clenched in my hand.

    I walked by Cindra scrubbing the floor.

    "Do you know where Cynthia is?"

    She looked up at me.

    "You too? Mrs. Dulldrey''s been on the warpath all morning."

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    "I need to give her something."

    I let Mr. Reeves'' necklace slip in my fist, the two rings clanked together as they dangled from the chain.

    She looked at the necklace for a long hard moment before she went back to scrubbing.

    "You know, I thought about stealing that necklace."

    "What stopped you?"

    "Don''t know... I guess even I have a heart."

    "Well, aren''t you full of surprises?"

    I turned my head, looking down both sides of the hallway.

    "So, where''s Cynthia?"

    "I wonder. Does my sister love you or the novelty of you? Since we were little, she would run to what''s shiny and new and move on when she got bored."

    "Cindra... It could have been you."

    She stopped scrubbing, looking up at me with eyes that were almost wide.

    "Why wasn''t it?"

    "I... you''re too much like me¡ªbroken."

    "It figures. People want the Sun, not the shade. I just thought you might be different."

    I laughed.

    "I''m sorry to disappoint you. I''m as boring as everyone else."

    "That''s doubtful."

    A slight smile played on her lips.

    "Can you promise me something?" She asked.

    "Of course."

    "Look after her. Her optimism will get her killed one of these days."

    "I promise."

    She nodded.

    ¡°Cynthia is on the roof."

    I got down and slid across the wet floor, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

    "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

    "OK. OK. Just keep your promise."

    "I will!"

    I walked to an abandoned corner on the third floor and pulled the drawstring to the attic. The accumulated dust of age and negligence covered unused furniture and wooden boxes. Light from a single window illuminated the specs of dust that danced in the air. I walked to the window; it was open. I stuck out my head.

    "Cynthia?"

    "Up here!"

    I stuck my leg out the window and followed it with the rest of my body, scurrying up the roof¡¯s slate tiles on all fours. Cynthia sat straddling the highest peak in her black and white maid''s uniform.

    "Look..."

    She pointed straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the same location. I turned to the horizon. The sunrise peaked over the city''s serrated skyline, and rays of light bled the sky orange. It reminded me of the morning I came to the mansion when Sin woke me up on the roof of the building overlooking the bridge.

    I turned back to Cynthia, and she smiled down at me, long golden hair fluttering in the gentle wind.

    "Isn''t it beautiful?"

    "Yeah... you are."

    She laughed.

    "You''re silly."

    She turned her gaze back to the horizon.

    "Imagine it. Looking out at the sunrise in a new place every day. This mansion is too small for us. Not with a whole world out there waiting to be explored."

    "And Cindra?"

    She shrugged.

    "Cindra is Cindra. Open skies¡­ New horizons¡­ They scare her."

    "It scares most of us."

    I crawled closer, scaling the tiles until my head was next to her knee.

    "Alright. Let''s do it."

    "What?"

    "Let''s leave and never come back."

    I stuck my hand in my pocket, pulling out the necklace that looped through the rings.

    I lifted the silver chain high, the two gold rings glittering in the morning light.

    She gasped, her eyes as wide as saucers.

    "Are those-"

    I nodded. A wave of calm washed over me. I expected to be nervous or embarrassed, but the joy in her eyes and the broad smile across her face told me the truth.

    I made the right choice.

    "Cynthia, will you marry me?"

 Original Sin Part 10

    "We should travel to the Northwest," Cynthia said.

    She lay next to me in bed, resting her hand on my chest¡ªgold ring glittering on her finger.

    "I heard there are elves there... good ones like you."

    I lifted my hand feeling the warmth of my matching wedding band. These rings were magic. One look at them had melted through Mrs. Dulldrey''s icy exterior and finally shut up Gren. Even Cindra looked happy; it didn''t suit her. The only person who hadn''t changed was Mr. Reeves, his familiar smile crinkling his eyes whenever he looked at us.

    "Hey, are you listening?"

    "Sorry..."

    I shifted in bed.

    Cynthia tapped an impatient finger on my chest.

    "OK. What''s wrong?" She asked.

    "No one''s seen Lady Sin in a week."

    "That''s not unusual. Sometimes, she leaves the mansion for a few days."

    "But she tells Mrs. Dulldrey when she''s going out. She didn''t tell anyone this time."

    "Why are you so worried?"

    I thought back to Sin slouched in a chair, cradling her knife in her arms. I couldn¡¯t help but shiver.

    "You don''t know her like I do."

    "Well, it won''t matter in a few hours. We''re packed and ready to go! Are you excited?!"

    "Yeah."

    "Liar."

    She was right. My stomach was queasy and getting worse with each passing minute.

    "Well, I expected you to have cold feet, so I planned ahead."

    Her smile turned mischievous.

    "Cindra is coming with us."

    "What?!"

    "I asked her to come. I know you two have always been... close."

    That¡¯s one word for it.

    "I thought it might help you adjust to life outside the mansion. I might even learn to tolerate my sister."

    "I''m surprised she said yes."

    "I know, right? She jumped at the chance."

    "How will Mrs. Dulldrey and Mr. Reeves take care of the mansion by themselves?"

    "Mrs. Dulldrey said she would hire more people."

    "Wait. Was everyone in on this but me?"

    "Well, it was a surprise. Are you surprised?"

    I nestled deeper into my pillow. The queasiness was gone.

    Was that it? Was that the last thing holding me back from leaving?

    "I''m elated."

    "Elated? That''s a fancy word."

    "Mr. Reeves'' a good teacher. We should get ready."

    I rolled to my side of the bed, sat up on the edge and froze.

    On top of the dresser was a plain white envelope that wasn''t there the night before. I should know; I¡¯d been awake for most of it. I picked up the envelope and turned it over in my hands.

    My stomach sank.

    It had a red wax seal imprinted with a hawk''s talon. It was from Sin¡ªit had to be. I didn''t know what disturbed me more: that she had slipped into my room without me or Cynthia noticing or that she had left a letter. It was too formal¡ªnot like her at all. I didn¡¯t need to open it, but I couldn¡¯t put it down. Trapped between fear and curiosity, I fumbled at the wax seal with trembling fingers.

    I took a deep breath when I finally broke the seal, pulling out the folded paper. It was my first time seeing Sin¡¯s handwriting, it was neat and precise, lacking the flair I expected from her.

    Dear Jacob,

    I was wrong. I have failed you by not completing your training and failed myself by giving in to weakness. Let us end this today and become the weapons we are meant to be.

    Go to Elmer''s Trinkets and Sundries in the Upper District and receive my third lesson.

    -Sin

    The queasiness was back, an unease that gripped my guts like a vice. The third lesson. How many years had I waited for this? Why did she wait until the day I planned to leave?!

    Spirits curse you, Sin!

    I exhaled, my breath shuddering as my body trembled. I had to go, not for me but for Cynthia. The world was dangerous, one giant game of predator and prey. I had seen how quickly the roles could reverse. How could I protect her, myself or even Cindra if my training was incomplete? I would go to this store and be back in a few hours. I solved the second challenge in less than a minute this should be no different.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    "Jacob? What''s that you''re holding?"

    I turned to my fianc¨¦.

    "I love you, Cynthia Woods."

    She scrunched up her face.

    "I love you too. Why am I sensing a but?"

    "I need to go somewhere. I''ll be back in a few hours."

    She looked at me for a long moment before leaning back into the bed, hands behind her head.

    "Fine. Be quick about your task, my Lord, lest I find another fianc¨¦."

    I smiled, leaning to the right to give her an awkward seated bow.

    "Of course, my Lady."

    I crawled over to her and planted a long kiss on her lips before jumping up and getting dressed.

    It was unsurprising that Sin inspired my clothing. The red overcoat I shrugged on was a bigger version of the one she gave me many years ago. Mrs. Dulldrey had made some changes based on my preferences. I admired the golden trim on the coat''s edges and the matching belt sash I wrapped around my waist.

    My hair was next. I cut the sides of my head low¡ª Cynthia''s suggestion; she liked it when I showed off my ears. I tied the locs on my head in a messy top knot held in place by the first lockpick Cindra gave me. I slipped into my knee-high black boots and blew Cynthia a kiss as I ran out of the room.

    Elmer''s Trinkets and Sundries had a plain, windowless storefront of weathered stone. The small, faded sign above my head was the only indicator I was in the right place. As I walked closer to the door, I noticed something, a groove in the wooden door frame in the shape of a hawk''s talon. I almost missed it. It was the same symbol on the letter''s red wax seal.

    Spirits below.

    For the tenth time since leaving the mansion, I checked for the throwing knife hidden in my coat''s sleeve. The strip of metal was a cold, hard comfort against my forearm. I breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever was behind that door, I would be ready.

    I am the hunter, not the hunted.

    I burst through the door in a low crouch, scanning the room¡ªthrowing knife pulled from my sleeve, ready to fly. A small man on the opposite side of the room yelped and ducked behind his counter. A moment later, half his head popped up. He stared at me through bizarre glasses that had a second set of lenses above the ones he saw through. It made him look like a bug.

    "You''re him, right? You¡¯re Jacob?"

    The tension in my shoulders eased an inch.

    "Yeah, that''s me."

    "Well, close the door before the insects come in."

    I lowered my throwing arm and scanned the room again.

    The store lived up to its name. The room was smaller than my guest room. Shelves packed tight with dust-covered trinkets lined the walls.

    "Where''s Sin?"

    "In the wind. You must know how flighty that woman is. She didn''t even stay for tea!"

    I closed the door and tucked my throwing knife back into my sleeve. I walked across the room in slow, deliberate steps as the man sat back on a stool behind the counter. He dabbed at the sweat covering his balding pate and sipped from an ivory teacup.

    "What''s your name?"

    "Elmer Elmer. Don''t ask."

    I chuckled.

    "Well, Elmer Elmer, I''m in a rush. Did she give you anything for me?"

    "Oh, yes, indeed. Yes, yes."

    He hopped off his stool and waddled on stubby legs behind a curtain to the back room.

    I leaned on the counter, running my hand over the deep grooves in the wood. It was well used. This shop belonged to a serious craftsman.

    A moment later, Elmer burst through the cloth barrier. He whistled to himself as he walked up and slid a wooden, rectangular box across the counter. He ducked down behind the counter and rustled through papers. A moment later, he popped up with a familiar-looking letter and placed it over the box.

    I took the letter first, turning it over in my hands. The red wax seal stared at me; the talon symbol was like a lopsided smirk.

    What¡¯s your game, Sin?

    I broke the seal and read the message in the dim lantern light.

    The third lesson is ruthlessness.

    That made me pause. I turned to the side, expecting Sin to walk out of a dark corner of the room.

    Nothing¡ªonly cobwebs.

    I turned over the paper.

    That was it? Where was the clue?

    I tucked the paper into my coat pocket and rested my hand on the wooden box.

    Elmer licked his lips.

    "What''s wrong?" I asked.

    "Nothing, nothing! I''m just excited for you to see it."

    That was ominous.

    The red chestnut box had a bronze clasp and hinges. I turned the clasped side away from me, unlocked the box and opened it in slow increments. I waited for the sound of a spring-loaded trap to release or for my body to fly from an explosion. The oiled hinges didn''t even squeak.

    Elmer looked up at me, face bright like he expected to get a pat on the head. I turned the box, and my eyes bugled.

    Red velvet lined the box''s interior. In the middle, a black wooden cane with gold accents rested in a cavity. I ran my hand along the black lacquer surface, lifting it out of the box. It was shorter and thicker than a normal cane, with a small, gold knob handle. Next to the handle were two raised bands of gold, evenly spaced a hand''s width along the cane''s length. The lengths of wood between the knob and each metal band curved like the handle of a sword. I wrapped a hand around the handle closest to the middle.

    "Turn it clockwise, clockwise," Elmer said, twirling his finger.

    I twisted the handle with a satisfying click and pulled out the gleaming blade. It was a short sword in the style Sin taught me to use. Elmer flipped the second set of lenses down over his glasses; his brown eyes doubled in size.

    "Beautiful, so beautiful. I spent six months making it."

    I nodded, speechless.

    "Try the other end."

    I put the scabbard part of the cane on the counter and twisted the second handle. A dagger slid out of the short sword¡¯s hilt. The small weapon felt different¡ªhungry. For what?

    "Now, give me the dagger."

    I cocked my head at Elmer and presented the dagger blade first to the craftsman. He plucked the dagger out of my hands without a second thought and wiggled it in front of me.

    "Now, take it back."

    I reached for the knife. He pulled his hand away, a smug look on his face.

    "Really?"

    I reached for it again. He extended his arm in a game of keep away. I wasn''t a kid anymore.

    "Give it!"

    A moment later, the dagger disappeared and rematerialized in my grasping hand. I blinked at the sudden weight in my right hand. It was like Sin''s knife but better.

    "What was that?"

    "It''s enchantment! As long as you have the short sword on your person, you can will the dagger into your hand. Whichever hand you want but you need at least one of them free. Do you understand?"

    I nodded, a boyish grin on my face.

    "I think so."

    "Good, good. Oh, I almost forgot-"

    He ducked under the counter again, returning with a leather sword belt. I resembled the cane and slid it into the loop of the sword belt. To my surprise, the first gold band held it in place. I secured the sword belt to my hips underneath my belt sash.

    "Thank you!"

    Elmer returned my appreciation with a broad smile.

    "What are you going to call it?"

    "What?"

    "A weapon like that needs a name."

    I frowned. Nothing came to mind. Elmer gave me an apologetic smile.

    "All in due time. The Luskaine Castle wasn''t built in a day."

    The conversation lapsed, and an awkward silence filled the room.

    "Anyways... I have somewhere to be."

    Elmer scratched the back of his head.

    "I understand. Come back when you need something."

    "Thanks! I will."

    As I walked out of the store, I paused.

    What did this have to do with ruthlessness?!

    I wracked my brain, thinking back to the previous lessons from so long ago. There were three lessons with three parts: a word, a clue, and a challenge. I answered the challenge; Sin supplied the word and the clue.

    What was the clue? Usually, she told me.

    As if on cue, a gust of wind carried the smell of ash and death. In the heat of the morning, the cold realization struck me. The letter was a misdirection, a way to make me leave the mansion. Elmer was there to keep me busy while-

    I lifted my head to the sky.

    A trail of black smoke snaked across it.

    It was only a feeling, but deep down, I already knew.

    That smoke was coming from the mansion. My home was on fire.

 Original Sin Part 11

    My feet moved faster than my mind. I charged toward the source of the smoke, pushing aside bystanders and city guards. Their yells of surprise and anger fell on deaf ears. The only sound was my beating heart. The only feeling was the sweat lathering my back. Everything else felt numb.

    I was a fool.

    If I wasn''t tricked by Sin''s letter... If I didn''t go to Elmer''s shop... If I left with Cynthia when I had a chance... Cynthia! Everyone...

    No. If I ran fast enough, there would be someone I could save. Something I could salvage from the burning remains of my life. I turned the corner to the mansion and stopped to take in my surroundings.

    City guards and citizens formed lines, passing pails of water to throw at the fire raging at the front door. Thick black smoke poured from the upper windows.

    There was no time to hesitate.

    I ran to the front door, grabbed a pail out of a guard''s hands and dumped the water over my body. Before the guards could grab me, I leaped through the flames.

    I wrapped the coat''s lapel over my face and squinted through the smoke. Most of it was rising to the second and third floors. I ran up the staircase, dodging the orange tongues of flame licking at my boot heels.

    "Cynthia! Cindra!¡±

    Don¡¯t leave me.

    ¡°Mrs. Dulldrey!"

    I still need your tough love.

    The roar of the fire drowned out my voice, and the heat scorched my throat. The only answer I received was a piece of debris falling from above. I jumped forward, tucking into a roll and avoiding the burning debris. The flames sizzled as my damp coat touched the floor. I got up in a low crouch.

    "Mr. Reeves! Gren!"

    You¡¯re the only friends I have left.

    Nothing.

    Where were they?

    By this time of day, they would be in the kitchen, although Cynthia had been sleeping in ever since we got engaged.

    Who do I save?

    I ran for my bedroom, keeping my head low as the smoke billowed above me. A few moments later, I was close. I slipped through the room''s open door.

    "Cynthia?!"

    The bedroom reeked of burnt hair and charcoal. My arms fell limp at my sides as tears blurred my vision.

    No... NONONO!

    I ran across the room, stumbling to collapse beside the corpse on the bed, charred beyond recognition.

    "Cynthia..."

    My voice was a quiet rasp from the heat and smoke. She was belly down, arms splayed as if reaching for something. Out of the corner of my watery eyes, something glinted on her outreached hand.

    The gold ring looked as beautiful as the day I gave it to her. It wrapped around her blackened finger, untouched by the fire.

    I wiped my tears on my sleeve, focusing on the ring as the world around me burned.

    "Mr. Reeves, he was right. Your husband was right."

    The floor below me heaved as the support beams burned to ash. The floorboards opened into a wide maw and swallowed me whole.

    It was dark.

    The sound of shouting, heavy boots and shifting debris surrounded me. Rough hands grabbed my arms and pulled me free of the rubble.

    # # #

    Am I dead?

    The scratching sound of a quill on paper answered my question. A bundle of cloth was stuffed in my mouth, another strip of fabric holding it in place. I reached for my mouth only to find my hands shackled to armrests by manacles. Light flooded my vision as I opened my eyes.

    Where was I?

    I sat in front of a dark mahogany desk covered with stacks of paper. At the desk was an older man with greying temples and a bony face that looked carved from the same material. His pronounced nose weighed down his head as he scribbled on the paper. Behind him, a large window let in light as he worked. Two guards in black and silver livery stood on either side of the window.

    "Wahs oing ah?" I asked.

    "Awake, are we?"

    The man did not look up from his paper. His voice was deep and resonant. I was jealous.

    "Why ahm I ahgg?"

    "Oh, that. A precaution. If you assure me that you will not speak High Song, I will let you speak freely. Do we have a deal?"

    High Song: the revisionist''s name for High Elvish. A new name to strip the language of its Elven origins.

    I nodded, eyes narrowing.

    He raised his left hand and snapped his fingers.

    The guard on his left walked forward and untied my gag. His gloved fingers pulled out the cloth crammed in my mouth.

    I spit out the loose threads on my tongue.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    "Who are you?¡±

    He stopped writing mid-sentence for a moment before scribbling again.

    "I am Alden Able of the Able noble house, the High Sanctifier of this Guildhall."

    Ah, the Sanctifier''s Guild. Great. I swivelled my head to take in my surroundings. The oppressive grey walls and dark furniture sucked the life out of the room. One piece of furniture stood out, a sofa on my left with white cushions. Splashes of faded blood stained the white upholstery.

    Alden continued speaking.

    "I have been called upon to administer this most unusual case. May I lay out the facts?"

    I nodded again. How could he see me when he was staring down at the paper like that?

    "Very well. The first fact is the mysterious fire at the affected residence. The second fact is the number of dead bodies pulled from the rubble. Most bizarre is the third fact: the property has no living owner, yet taxes continued to be paid to the crown every year."

    He chose that moment to look at me, trying to gauge my face for any reaction.

    My face paled.

    Bodies...

    "How many bodies did you find?"

    "The city guard have recovered four bodies and counting."

    Four bodies.

    I exhaled, letting a mask of neutrality cover my face. This was not the time to show weakness. I was in a den of wolves.

    Not seeing a reaction, Alden continued.

    "The last owner passed away twelve years ago. A man named Carlton Briggs. Since then, no relatives have come forward to claim the property."

    Well, that explained the portraits.

    "I lived there for ten years."

    "Indeed. If local witnesses had not confirmed that fact, you would be in the cells instead of sitting here. In all those years, did you see anything unusual?"

    Images of Sin and my years of training in the Red Room flashed in my mind.

    I bared my teeth.

    "No."

    He quirked an eyebrow.

    "I see."

    A faint smile spread on his lips as he slid his hand over two documents on his desk.

    "Your situation presents certain challenges as well as opportunities. The Sanctifiers have been tasked with administering the sale of this property. Its¡¯ current valuation is 10,000 gold pieces."

    "10,000 gold pieces!"

    My composure broke as I balked at the price. Alden''s lips twitched upward at my outburst.

    "Be at ease. We Sanctifiers are not without sympathy."

    He slid the first document across the desk.

    "This is a contract to loan you 10,000 gold pieces at our most reasonable interest rate of 5%."

    "What would I want with some burned-out ash heap?"

    "You must be joking. That land was one of the most envious properties in the capital."

    He narrowed his eyes, trying to peer into my head.

    "You really don''t know and here I thought you had the look of education about you. Hmm."

    He rubbed his chin, considering how to proceed.

    ¡°What do you know of quintessence?¡±

    I shrugged.

    ¡°Our souls are made of quintessence. When we die, our souls join the spirits of the land.¡±

    Alden¡¯s thin lips tilted into a frown.

    ¡°A simplistic yet mostly correct understanding. Quintessence is the fifth element. When we die, the quintessence leaks from our bodies and infuses the environment¡ªwhat the common folk call spirits of the land. Through our Guild¡¯s contracts, we create a connection between your quintessence and that of the land you own. A process that will turn you into a Landbound mage."

    I had heard pieces of this information over the years but never summarized this well. Alden had a gift.

    "If I owned land, what kind of magical abilities would I get?¡±

    "It depends. Quintessence is raw potential, taking on the qualities of its vessel. In people, it absorbs memory and personality. In land, it absorbs purpose and character. Quintessence resonates with the character of the land to grant magical abilities. Your land is particularly valuable because our beloved capital is so densely populated. Second only to the border with Dahlgesh, more people die here every year-"

    "And more quintessence is infused into the land."

    "Yes. Exactly. To add to your land''s value, it''s a blank slate. Anyone with sufficient resources can rebuild the land to suit any purpose."

    I raised my hand to hold my chin, my wrist strained against the shackle attached to the armrest.

    "Do you mind?"

    Alden waved, and the guard on his right walked forward and unlocked the manacles on my wrists. For the first time, I noticed my missing throwing knife and cane.

    "Where''s my stuff?!"

    "Precautions, my elven friend."

    "Jacob. My name is Jacob."

    "Hmm..."

    He nodded his head. Alden''s two guards looked at each other for a moment before the guard on the left handed me my throwing knife. I tucked it back into my sleeve. Alden reached behind his desk and picked up my cane, patting the length of wood in his hand.

    "This is a fine item. Where did you get it?"

    "From a bug."

    I reached out my hand. Alden quirked an eyebrow, passing me the cane over the desk. I clenched it in both hands.

    Relief washed over me.

    "That loan... How much gold is that with interest?"

    The corner of Alden''s lips twitched.

    "With monthly compounding, the total amount will be 10,512 gold pieces. We humbly request the loan be repaid a year from your date of signing."

    "And what if I can¡¯t pay you back in a year?"

    "Then you will incur a penalty of five years of service."

    "You mean indentured servitude."

    "That¡­ is an unpleasant word. Besides, think of the bright side, however you pay us back, you''ll become a powerful mage."

    I saw through his game. Alden was offering me a loan with the expectation that I couldn''t pay it back. By next year, he would own me and, through me, a prime piece of real estate to serve the Sanctifier''s goals. Did he think I was stupid enough to fall into such an obvious trap? Why did I want to anyway?

    It was Sin. She was a mage, and I would need to become one, too, if I wanted to be-

    RUTHLESS!

    Cynthia''s burned body flashed in my mind. I pushed down the bile rising in my throat. Chills ran through my body. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. It took everything I had to stop myself from curling into a ball on the floor.

    "Do we have a deal, elf?" Alden asked.

    Cynthia... Her spirit was in that land. Mr. Reeves, Mrs. Dulldrey, Gren, Cindra... everyone who couldn''t keep up. This time I could carry them with me.

    ¡°It¡¯s a deal."

    Alden smirked. He opened his drawer to pull out a clear glass ink well, a thin blade and a white feather quill.

    ¡°Before we begin, do you have any living blood relatives?¡±

    ¡°Not that I know of. Why?¡±

    ¡°When a contract is signed in blood, it grants all direct relatives a connection to the land, splitting its¡¯ magical potential evenly amongst your family.¡±

    My family is dead.

    ¡°Now, I will need your blood. Enough to fill half of the ink well."

    He slid the inkwell and thin blade across the table.

    "No need."

    I willed the dagger at the top of my cane into my left hand. I smiled as Alden''s face went pale. He recovered, raising his hand to stop his guards from unsheathing their swords.

    I ran the blade across the palm of my right hand and leaned over the desk to let my blood fill the inkwell.

    Alden raised his chin as our eyes met.

    "Excellent. Now please sit over there."

    He gestured to the white sofa stained with dried blood.

    "Why?"

    "All will be revealed in time."

    I walked to the white sofa. To Alden''s amusement, I poked the stained cushions with the end of my cane before sitting.

    Alden shuffled around the desk in black robes that hung loose on his thin frame. In his hands were a large wooden board, the inkwell of blood, a quill and the two contracts. He placed the board and inkwell on my lap.

    "Sign this one first."

    He pushed the quill and loan contract forward. It was written in High Elvish. I took some time to read it.

    Alden raised his eyebrows.

    "So, you are educated. Who taught you to read High Song?"

    "A hawk."

    Alden gave me a tight smile.

    "You have interesting friends, elf."

    "It''s Jacob."

    I signed my first name in blood, handing it back to Alden while suppressing a yawn.

    He picked it up and frowned.

    "We''ll need a last name."

    He handed the paper back.

    I froze.

    I didn¡¯t have a last name. Before I could think of one, my left hand moved on its own.

    Alden snatched the paper out of my hand, his lips twisting in contempt.

    "Jacob Sin... I guess that will do."

    I frowned at the sound of my full name.

    Why did I write that?

    Alden passed me the second contract, blowing on the first to let the blood dry. This contract was the legal deed to the mansion and the quintessence-infused land underneath it.

    Cynthia¡­

    As I signed the contract, a wave of exhaustion washed over my body. I tried to raise my hand only to knock over the inkwell, splashing my blood on the white cushion beside me.

    My head fell against the wall, and my eyes rolled back as I slipped into unconsciousness.

    Alden towered over me, a malicious smile on his face.

    "Congratulations, Jacob Sin. You¡¯re a mage."

 Original Sin Part 12

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    </a>

    The Labyrinth: Lazarus [Tower-Climb LitRPG]</a>

    [Souls-Like + Tower Climbing]burdened man will do whatever it takes to save his daughter, even if it takes him to the depths of the Labyrinth.

    <hr>

    A dead body is given a second chance and thrown into a mysterious cave. When Christopher wakes up in a dangerous swamp inhabited by eldritch abominations, he finds himself at a loss for answers. With him, there¡¯s only a notebook with ancient-looking pages. On one of them, a single cryptic message: ¡°She Lives. Find the Exit.¡±

    <hr>

    What to Expect:

    - Weak to Strong.

    - Meaningful System. Its secrets will be slowly revealed as the story progresses.

    - Complex and Asymmetrical Progression System.

    - Tons of World Building. The Labyrinth is a huge, mysterious place, and I intend to explore most of it.

    - Real Characters with real stakes.

    - Anti-Hero MC.

    - Slow Burn.

    **Don¡¯t expect a lot of stat blocks. They exist but are used sparsely.

    <hr>

    I have always loved gritty, dark fiction. For a long time, I¡¯ve entertained the idea of writing a LitRPG filled with conspiracy, intricate plot threads, and moving parts. And so, the Labyrinth was created¡ªa place where men, monsters, and gods walk alike, stumbling through its maze amidst the dying rubble.

    [Release Schedule]: Monday, Wednesday, Friday.

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    When my eyes fluttered open, Alden was back at his desk, reading through a stack of papers. Someone removed the wooden board on my lap. My right hand was wrapped in fresh bandages. My blood on the sofa was wiped away to a faint reddish-brown stain. I flexed my bandaged hand, the cut across my palm throbbing in pain.

    "What happened?"

    Alden perked up in his seat and blinked at me.

    "Only ten minutes. Impressive will. Yes, you''ll do."

    I reached for my cane, twisting the short sword in the scabbard.

    "What did you do to me?!"

    "Nothing, elf. Exhaustion is a common side effect of renaming. I''ve seen men blackout for hours, even a full day."

    "What''s renaming?"

    Alden smirked.

    ¡°The root of all magic.¡±

    It must have had something to do with High Elvish.

    ¡°Can you tell me more?¡±

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    "I think not. I¡¯ve played the tutor long enough. Now, please leave."

    He turned back to the sheets on his desk.

    I growled as I got to my feet. The trifecta of exhaustion, hunger and blood loss made me second-guess my decision. I leaned on my cane as I blinked the spinning room steady. I hadn''t eaten all day. If the orange light coming through the window was any sign, the evening was approaching.

    As I turned to leave, a question flashed in my mind.

    "Why white?"

    ''What?"

    Annoyance edged Alden''s regal voice.

    "Why white cushions? Why not red or some kind of blanket to cover the sofa and avoid the mess?"

    Alden cocked his head like a dog, a confused expression on his face.

    "Then what would the servants do?"

    I opened my mouth and then closed it, shaking my head as I left the room without another word.

    I wandered through the streets of the Upper District, visiting the ruins of my home. The faint smell of burning wood lingered in the air. Three of the four walls had collapsed in on itself, scattering scorched bricks among the ashen remains. Somewhere in these ruins was the table we used to gather around to eat, but now¡­

    My home was a corpse, and the pickings were slim.

    Alden had said the city guards found four dead bodies and counting. Did someone make it out alive? I could check. I was a mage now, connected to the land in front of me and the spirits beneath it.

    "Cynthia, Cindra, Mrs. Dulldrey, Mr. Reeves, Gren. Are you there? Can you hear me?"

    The wind answered me, a cold gust that cut through my damp clothes and sent a shiver up my spine. It kicked up the ash and covered me in a fine layer of grey dust.

    What did I expect?

    I let my feet carry me, the idle wandering of a spirit that had not found a home in the earth. That''s what I was, the walking dead. In search of... In search of what? I walked past Elmer''s shop. It was closed. I would have to talk to the tiny man tomorrow and wring out everything he knew.

    A young boy ran past me, his laughter contrasting with the numb feeling in my flesh. He wrapped his arms around the legs of his waiting mother. They disappeared hand in hand around the corner.

    I walked until the sun was setting over the horizon. I leaned forward against the railing of a bridge that split the Lower and Upper Districts. I lost myself in the ripples the wind made in the canal below. This bridge was familiar. It was the one that Sin had carried me across to begin my new life.

    What is ruthlessness?

    I shook the question out of my head.

    My old life was on my right; my new life was on the left, and both were in ruins.

    What do I want, outside of something to eat, a change of clothes, and a place to sleep? Some money would be nice. I had a debt to pay, and I was done being an orphan. What else?

    I wanted to find Sin.

    I would find her and... and do what?

    KILL HER!

    My stomach tied itself into knots, warring emotions fighting within me. It was only right; she killed Cynthia and the others, but... wasn''t she doing what I asked of her?

    I had asked Sin for the third lesson¡ªbegged her for years against her wishes. She was right; I wasn''t ready.

    I wiped my tears on my sleeve. Weapons don''t cry.

    Is that still what I wanted to be?

    What else was there? If I left this path now, the deaths of Cynthia and everyone else would be for nothing.

    What is ruthlessness?

    I raised my right hand; the gold ring on my finger was cool to the touch. Whatever love I had in me had burned away in the fire. I pulled off the ring, rolling it between my thumb and index finger.

    ¡°What is ruthlessness?¡±

    I threw the ring into the canal. It disappeared into the dark waters.

    ¡°Killing what you love."

    I waited for the pain¡ª the heartache of that foolish boy who ran into a burning building to save the people he loved.

    Nothing.

    I was numb.

    I was free.

    I was¡­ a weapon.

    I smiled, tilting my head back to howl at the fading light.

 Original Sin Part 13

    I was at home prowling the streets of the Lower District. The smell of garbage was nostalgic. The beggars shied away from me, recoiling at the sight of the half-elf with the hard-edged smile and wild glint in his eyes.

    There was a purpose behind my journey into this side of town. I was reminded with each clink of my almost empty coin purse. The guards who saved me from the fire had also taken their fee while I was knocked out. Now, I needed money and fast.

    In the capital, there were a few ways to get rich quick. One way was to steal from someone richer than you. The idea had its appeal but also its downsides. Anyone worth stealing from would be landowners and, therefore, mages. There was still too much I didn''t know about the other Landbound to take that risk. The other reason was more obvious: I was the only half-elf in a city that hated elves. One slip-up and I would be sent to the kennel. That left me with one other option.

    I stopped in front of a large, rustic building with a sign hanging over the entrance that said The Gentleman''s Rest. It was unlike any other building in the capital, made of thick, old logs that had seen the rise of Peter Luskaine. If the rumours were true, the first King of Luskaine chose to die here so his spirit could get a drink even in death.

    Off to my left, a brown boar with saddlebags strapped to its sides gave me a wary look. I locked eyes with the creature, who met my gaze with a level stare.

    I was in the right place.

    As I walked through the entrance, the chatter of large crowds and the smell of cheap ale bombarded me. Beer-stained tables sat in neat rows as servers darted between the rowdy customers who filled their seats. At the side of the hall was a bar for those sober enough to walk to make their orders. A large bulletin board stood beside the bar, ignored in the festivities. That was the reason I was here.

    Adventure halls were a staple in every major city in Luskaine. They were places where mercenaries and adventurers gathered to take on job requests. The Gentleman''s Rest was one of the most famous adventure halls in the country. I remembered Gren¡¯s stories about this place back in my dishwashing days.

    I shook off my nostalgia and walked to the bulletin board to see the job requests. The requests were open-ended contracts made and enforced by the Sanctifiers Guild. The Guild made sure both sides of a contract were happy at the requestor''s expense. If either side cheated a contract, a Sanctifier inquisitor would hunt them down and unleash brutal retribution.

    Halfway to the board, three men blocked my path. A heavy-set man with a strong jaw and a wide mouth led the way. At his side was a wiry, grey-haired man and a boy a few years younger than me.

    "An elf?" the heavy-set man said, twisting his wide mouth in distaste. "We don''t like fence-sitters round here. Got a tax for em. Pay up."

    "Yeah, pay up!" The boy said.

    My shoulders sagged.

    What did I say again? Right, one slip-up.

    The last thing I needed was a bar fight.

    "What''s you''re name, friend?"

    I forced a smile at the heavy-set man.

    "Took."

    "Well, Took. It hasn''t been a great day. If you don''t mind, I''m just going to walk around you and-"

    "Not until you pay up."

    His friends stepped forward, creating a semicircle with me in the middle. I should have paid them, stayed quiet, and stayed out of trouble. Who was I kidding? I was hungry, tired, and looking for someone to hurt.

    I sighed, shoved my right hand into my coat''s interior chest pocket, and undid the opening of its secret compartment in the same motion.

    "How much do I owe you?" I said through my forced smile.

    "How much do you have?"

    I grabbed a fistful of sand from my secret compartment and threw the powder in Took¡¯s eyes. My right arm swung down in one smooth motion, slipping my throwing knife into my hand. I sent it into the wrist of the grey-haired man''s sword arm. As he recoiled, my left hand twisted my short sword free from my cane and pointed it in the boy''s face. I held up my right hand in a pacifying gesture.

    "Easy. Easy. It was only a jest."

    The boy barely heard me over Took¡¯s screams. His face was stuck between fear and anger. If anger won, I would have to make a choice.

    Was I ready to go that far?

    As the boy''s face twisted to anger, a loud, clear voice cut over the hall''s chatter.

    "STOP!"

    The boy froze, letting go of the machete sheathed on his hip.

    From the other end of the hall, a man with a shock of iron-grey hair got to his feet. He was of average height, but the width of his shoulders cleared a path as other patrons leaned out of the way. As he approached, metal jingled with each step. His storm-blue eyes fixed on me as he ran thick fingers through his mustache. This man was strong. The kind of strength built through hours of manual labour. He cupped Took''s chin and examined his eyes.

    "Some jest."

    The sand was cut with powdered glass. The more you rubbed your eyes, the more it would tear into your soft tissue. I suppressed a smile.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    "You should get him to a healer," I said.

    "Right... Let''s go, boys!"

    My head turned as a chorus of chair legs scraped across the floor, and half the hall got to their feet.

    A vice-like hand patted me hard on my shoulder.

    "What''s your name, son?"

    "Jacob... Jacob Sin."

    "Jacob Sin. I''ll remember that. We''ll keep the knife as payment for the eyes. It''s good steel. Fair?"

    "Fair."

    "Good."

    He walked out. Took''s friends followed behind, guiding the blinded man out the door. Next, a collection of street toughs and gnarled, grey-haired men passed by me. If I had to guess, the old men were veterans of the ongoing border war with Dahlgesh. That would explain why Took called me a fence-sitter.

    My stomach growled. The board could wait.

    I walked up to the bar and sat in front of a gruff, bear-sized barkeep.

    "Food, please."

    "What kind?"

    "Whatever is cheapest."

    "That''ll be five copper pieces."

    I laid out the coins from my ever-shrinking coin purse. With my other hand, I clutched the emergency bundle of coins sewn into one end of my belt sash. At least the guards hadn¡¯t found my hidden funds.

    A few moments later, the barkeeper returned with a bowl of warm gruel¡ªorphan food. This better not be a sign of things to come. As I lapped up the first few spoonfuls of gruel, another customer approached the bar.

    "Can I buy a drink for the dead man?" she asked.

    I turned and looked up. The woman would tower over me at my full height. She brushed aside her black, tousled hair to reveal a fair face and steel-grey eyes. My eyes fixed on the scar across the bridge of her nose, the nicks and cuts on her hands and the longsword on her hip. The last thing I needed in my life was another dangerous woman.

    A moment later, I sensed a presence behind me. I turned and looked down. The man was a head shorter than me. His steady, brown eyes were the calm in a storm of curly brown hair that covered his head and half his face. I focused on his thick arms, and the bearded axe looped into his belt.

    "How dead I''m I?" I asked the strange woman.

    "That depends. The man you angered is Rugar Centovian; he owns half the forges in the capital. His apprentices do most of the work now, so he spends his days playing general with whoever he can pick up from the taverns."

    I sighed. A bored and rich craftsman with a personal army and the means to arm them. You know how to pick your enemies, Jacob.

    The woman''s lips spread into a wry grin.

    "A lad in your position could use some friends."

    I eyed her.

    "And why would you want to be friends with me?"

    "Most mages who walk in here are the pampered second sons of nobles and merchants. They''re quick to give orders and don''t have steel in their spines when the weapons get drawn. You''re different. You stared down three of Rugar''s goons. You''re either brave or broke."

    "Maybe I''m both."

    "You do have an air of desperation about you, among other things."

    She wrinkled her nose as she leaned forward to sniff my ash-smudged coat.

    ¡°How do you know I¡¯m a mage?¡±

    She shrugged.

    ¡°A guess. You look like you come from money.¡±

    I took another spoonful of flavourless gruel, chewing water as I thought of my next question.

    "And why should I be your friend?"

    She flashed me a broad smile and moved her hand to my shoulder, plucking something off my coat. My eyes widened as she placed a small sewing needle on the bar''s counter.

    "You took out three of his men, so he¡¯ll take his time coming for you. My guess is he would have used this as a tracker to find where you slept and sent men to visit you tonight. If you were smart, you would leave town."

    I gulped down my gruel. I should have anticipated the tracker, but I was hungry, tired and making excuses.

    "I owe you¡­ uh-"

    "Castille Ironside," she said, reaching to shake my hand.

    "Jacob Sin."

    I turned to the man on my other side.

    "And you are?"

    "He¡¯s Dugan Samaran," Castille said.

    "Does he speak?"

    "When he wants to."

    I turned back to the man. He met my eyes with a calm gaze. Whatever he was, he wasn¡¯t a coward.

    "Now that we¡¯re over formalities, what kind of mage are you?" Castille asked.

    "I don''t know. I became one a few hours ago."

    She laughed, a deep, hardy tone from her belly.

    "No wonder you''re so worn down; you played with the house of deals. Didn''t anyone tell you the house always wins?¡±

    "My cook used to have debts with them... He''s gone now."

    The amusement left Castille''s face.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be frank. I like you, Jacob. You have skills, and you remind me of home."

    "Home? You''re from Western Luskaine?"

    "Northwest. I''m from a village near the Great Northwestern Forest, the last enclave of the elves."

    My stomach sank. That''s where Cynthia wanted to visit.

    "See many half-elves?"

    "All the time. We trade goods with the elves. Sometimes, the trading caravans stay overnight."

    "Is that where I''m from?" I said to myself.

    "What was that?"

    "Nothing. I guess you''re forming a party for a job request?"

    "Aye."

    She pulled a folded job request sheet out of her pants pocket and flattened it on the bar table with both hands. I leaned over to examine it, eyes gravitating to the top left corner.

    Gren told me how it worked. Each quarter, the Sanctifiers reviewed the open job requests in their records. They contacted the requestor to see if the request should remain active. If the requestor said no, the request would be closed. If the requestor said yes, the job request would stay active, and the contract would be reprinted for a fee. The number of reprints was marked at the top left corner of the sheet. For a mostly illiterate population, the number of reprints gave a rough idea of a request''s difficulty.

    As I examined the sheet, my eyebrows shot up. Castille¡¯s job request had a reprint number in the triple digits!

    I did the math.

    "This job request is over a hundred years old!"

 Original Sin Part 14

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    </a>

    The Firstlings</a>

    Humanity is on the cusp of the Dawn.

    Known as the Integration.

    The Dawn of the Spell.

    Aaron and his siblings are a new race called the Firstlings. They are born in the dark tunnels of the labyrinth and run from their nest into a world of wonder and mystery. Overcoming tragedy and adversity, they must find a new home as humanity struggles to survive.

    Karla joined the Treasure Hunt for her own purposes, but what she finds may not be what it seems. Humanity has lost all hope; hordes of beasts are rising, and supplies are dwindling. They are in great need of a champion...

    But what does it mean to be a Hero?

    <hr>

    I will play with LitRPG, Progression, and Cultivation elements within a mysterious world after the Integration

    Updates twice a week.

    Edits will happen as I go, and if anything critical changes, I''ll post it. Chapter length will vary.

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    </tbody>

    </table>

    Castille nodded her head.

    "Aye, I want to break the curse on the Dellends."

    The chatter in the hall fell into hushed whispers as all eyes in the hall settled on us.

    I learned about the Dellends from Mr. Reeves'' books. It was a stretch of cursed land known as the rotten heart of Luskaine. Each year, its land became more enriched with various heavy metals. While this made the area wealthy in ore, it also made the land toxic with lead and arsenic. It was so toxic that the population depended on food and water imported by merchant caravans.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    As the crops failed, farmers took up the shameful profession of mining. This attracted a criminal element that organized the miners into cartels. Between the merchants and mining cartels, the nobility was powerless, making the area the most lawless place in Luskaine. It was nasty business all around¡ªthe kind of business most sane people stayed far away from.

    My eyes skimmed the reward section of the job request. I stopped, blinked and read it again.

    "Raised to minor nobility by the king of Luskaine?! 100,000 gold pieces?! That''s a lot, even split three ways," I said, rubbing my chin.

    "The gold''s not important," Castille said.

    "Then can I have your share?"

    "No."

    I pulled away from the document to lean back on my barstool. Just like that, an opportunity to clear my debt with the Sanctifiers had fallen into my lap. I only had to do something most people believed was impossible. It also gave me a convenient reason not to be in the capital when Rugar and his men started looking for me. As the pieces fell into place, I understood why Castille approached me. Only the desperate would take on this quest, but only a handful of people are desperate and competent.

    Doing the impossible.

    I liked the sound of that. If¡­ when I met Sin again, I would have proof that I was her equal¡­ or her superior. Isn¡¯t that how the stories go? The student becomes the teacher. The hunter becomes the hunted.

    I took the bowl of gruel with both hands and slurped it down, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.

    "Will there be equal shares of gold?" I asked.

    "I wouldn''t have it any other way."

    I nodded.

    "Then I''m in."

    Castille smirked.

    "We should leave before Ruger''s men start wondering where you are."

    She slipped the job request back into her pocket and walked to the door. The stocky, short man followed behind her. I took a moment to observe the pair. They couldn''t have been more opposite. I shrugged. It takes all kinds in a party or, so Gren said. If Castille was as sharp as I thought, she had good reason to keep Dugan around.

    I followed a few seconds behind them, crossing the hall¡¯s floor and ignoring the patrons staring at me. As I walked out the front door, something blocked my path, and I questioned my previous logic. Dugan knelt on one knee, scratching the chin of the boar with saddle bags that had waited outside the bar.

    I scrunched up my face and turned to Castille.

    "Is the boar a pack mule?"

    "His name is Thor," Castille said.

    "Thor the boar. Cute."

    "More than cute," Castille said. "Thor!"

    The boar snapped to attention, settling its intelligent eyes on Castille.

    "Are there any of Rugar''s men around?"

    The boar grunted. Castille nodded as if she understood him. Dugan patted Thor on the head, gesturing at a job well done.

    What had I gotten myself into?

    Seeing my confusion, Castille smiled.

    "That pig has a nose for trouble. He¡¯s saved our bacon on more than one occasion. Come, there is an inn near here where we can get a few hours of sleep."

    I nodded, falling into step beside Castille. Dugan and Thor walked on her other side.

    I had to admit she was something. Graceful and long-limbed, Castille was only half a head taller than me, yet held herself like a giant. My time as an urchin had put me in the habit of hunching my back. I learned to make myself as small as possible to avoid notice. My training under Sin had only drawn out that trait; going unnoticed was one-half of misdirection. Maybe, I could learn from Castille. Although, it would have to be tomorrow. I¡¯d learned enough for one day.

    Little did I know, the night had its own lessons.

 Original Sin Part 15

    The full moon was out as we walked down the empty street to the inn. Halfway along our journey, Thor snorted out a short series of low, throaty grunts.

    "Someone is following us," Castille whispered.

    Dugan gave a slow, gradual nod. I focused my ears, filtering out the noise of our feet and hooves to sense the world around me.

    There.

    It was a light footfall, a second out of rhythm with our casual pace.

    "It''s only one person," I said.

    Castille smirked.

    "How about you show us a few more of your skills?"

    So, she still wanted to test me.

    I nodded, noticing an alleyway ahead of us on my side.

    "Let me walk ahead of you. Castille, walk behind me. When I duck into that alley over there, keep walking; come running when I make my move."

    The corners of Castille¡¯s mouth twitched upward.

    "It''s a plan."

    I picked up my pace, walking ahead while Castille slid behind me to block our stalker''s view. Reverting to my past, I hunched my shoulders and made myself small. I matched Castille''s gait, counting down the steps until I was close enough to slip into the alley.

    Five.

    Four.

    Three.

    Two.

    One.

    Now!

    In one fluid motion, I slipped into the alley, pressed myself against a wall, and crouched. Castille, Dugan, and Thor continued their pace as if nothing had happened. Good. I waited, letting my mind sink into a place far away. It was an empty place where breathing slowed, thought disappeared, and only patience remained.

    Soon, I received my reward. A short, cloaked figure walked past the alleyway, leaving me unnoticed. I waited another five heartbeats in case there were any stalkers I had not sensed.

    Nothing.

    I moved to the lip of the alleyway to get a better look at Rugar''s agent. They were as short as Dugan and carrying some kind of staff. Checking my surroundings, I unwrapped the sash around my waist.

    Utility: The value of an object is in its number of uses. A sash that looked like a fashion accessory could entangle a knife wielder''s arm in close combat. A bundle of coins sewn into the end of a sash to fool pickpockets could also be used as a weight for makeshift bolas.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    I creeped out of the alleyway, swinging the weighted end of my belt sash in small circles. After one last rotation, I let the sash loose, wrapping the weighted end around the agent''s lower legs.

    Then, I pulled.

    Rugar''s agent face-planted on the cobblestone, their staff skittering out of reach. I closed the distance, twisting out my short sword. Castille and Dugan doubled back with their weapons drawn. We surrounded the cloaked figure, ready to strike them down as they pulled their hood back.

    "Cindra?"

    Shoulder-length, blonde hair shined in the moonlight as the woman¡¯s hood fell. Her blue eyes were wide and wet with terror. With one hand, she held the bridge of her broken nose as the blood poured out in a steady stream.

    My shoulders sagged. It wasn''t Cindra.

    "Who¡¯s that?" The woman asked, her broken nose giving her a nasal pitch to her voice.

    "I... Uh¡­"

    "Why were you following us?" Castille asked.

    "I-I wanted to talk."

    "About?"

    "About joining your party. Breaking the curse."

    "Why didn''t you talk to us at the hall?"

    "Everyone was looking at you. I wanted to talk somewhere quieter."

    She flashed an awkward smile.

    "I''m shy."

    Castille snorted and looked at me.

    "Jacob, free the poor girl. What were you thinking?"

    I blushed as Castille suppressed a grin.

    "Right! Yeah..."

    I sheathed my short sword and bent down to untie my sash from her legs. I noted the quality of her soiled, baby-blue dress and navy-blue cloak. I also picked up her staff, feeling the heft of the smooth, dark wood. Dugan slid his axe back into his belt, but Castille kept her sword drawn, not completely buying the young woman¡¯s innocent appearance.

    Dugan stepped forward, pressing his thick fingers against her forehead.

    The woman''s eyes widened as the crooked bridge of her nose snapped back into place, the stream of blood pouring out of it becoming a trickle. She wiggled her nose in disbelief.

    "T-Thanks," she said in shock.

    My eyebrows shot up.

    "What was that?" I asked.

    Castille smiled.

    "Dugan¡¯s a mage, the second son of a poor, landowning farmer. He can do minor healing, control plants, and create food. We''ll never go hungry."

    Thor oinked at the mention of food.

    I blinked in disbelief.

    Could farmers even own land? I thought it all belonged to the nobles.

    "Well¡­ that''s useful.¡±

    Dugan shrugged, lifting the girl to her feet like a bundle of sticks.

    She brushed the dirt off her dress. Her big, innocent eyes reminded me of Kirk, and her blonde hair reminded me of Cindra and Cynthia. Even with the blood smeared on her face, she was¡­ cute¡ªthat set me on edge.

    Castille continued her interrogation.

    "You''ve seen what we can do. Now, what can you do?"

    "I''m a mage."

    "I see. What''s your name?"

    "Isla"

    "Isla, what?"

    "Just Isla."

    Castille sneered.

    "You''re a noble and not even one clever enough to use a fake name."

    Isla shrank back from the older woman''s stern gaze.

    ¡°I¡¯m a bad liar.¡±

    Castille sighed, burying the tip of her longsword into the cobblestone.

    "Beggars can''t be choosers. Most parties are lucky to have one mage, we have three. If the others allow it, I''ll let you join."

    She looked at us.

    "Well?"

    Dugan nodded.

    Thor sniffed Isla and then grunted his approval.

    I turned to Castille and gave her a curt nod.

    "OK, you''re in," Castille said.

    She sheathed her sword, shaking her head.

    "Three mages. Why does it feel like it''s not enough?"

    She, Dugan and Thor turned back to walk to the inn.

    "Um... my staff," Isla said.

    "Oh! Oh, yeah."

    I shoved the staff in her general direction. She took it, met my eyes and blushed before turning away to catch up with the others.

    I frowned at the back of her head.

    Who cares what she looked like? Kirk, Cindra, Cynthia¡­ They were dead. They didn¡¯t matter. Not anymore.

    I took a moment to look at my party. There was the young noblewoman hiding her identity, the mute farmer''s son with an intelligent boar, and a warrior from the north who was clearly a former military. They all had their secrets, but not as many as me.

    In a single day, I¡¯d lost everything. What had I gained? Power¡­ and purpose.

    I balled my right hand into a fist. The wound across my palm throbbed, bringing a smile to my face.

    Sin. Are you watching me? Am I following your path?

    A gust of wind swept through the street, nudging me forward. I grinned, walking after my party to begin the journey that would change our lives.

 The Cursed Lands Part 1

    KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

    My fist pounded on the sturdy, wooden door. It was early, with the sun barely over the horizon. Last night, I found a bath at the inn, and a staff member willing to clean my clothes in a hurry. They washed away the ashes of my past life and threw the dirty water into the canal.

    KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

    I was a new man, and it was a new day, which meant two things: Rugar''s thugs would be looking for me, and I needed to leave the capital. I shivered, feeling naked without my red coat.

    I¡¯d given the rest of my coin purse to the innkeeper¡¯s son, making him run to the North Gate with my coat on while I took care of some business. If everything went as planned, he would take off the coat once he passed the North Gate and meet me at the West Gate, creating rumours I fled in the other direction.

    KNOCK! KNOCK! KNO-

    My third rap on the door stopped as it cracked open. A groggy-eyed Elmer squinted at me through the narrow sliver.

    "Jacob? I¡¯m closed," he said.

    I smiled and barged in, pushing back the short man and making him fumble the lantern in his hands.

    I swept my gaze over the poorly lit shop.

    Sin, where are you?

    Nudging the door closed, I turned to the befuddled craftsman.

    ¡°Did you know?¡±

    My face was flat and expressionless, hiding the anger bubbling below the surface.

    Lie to me, Elmer. Make this easy.

    My left hand walked across my belt sash to the cane on my hip.

    ¡°No¡­ No, I did not. No one tells me anything, anything,¡± he said as he examined the lantern for damage.

    The tension in my shoulders eased; I believed him.

    Elmer walked back around the counter, tinkering with the lantern before setting it down on the countertop.

    OK. Plan B.

    "You¡¯re her supplier, aren''t you?¡±

    I set my face in a wolfish grin, stalking across the room to lean against the counter.

    ¡°You get her all the illegal merchandise she uses for her crimes."

    It was a guess. I didn''t know if Elmer sold anything illegal, but, c''mon, he worked for Sin.

    Elmer looked up at me, his face blanching white in the lantern light.

    "W-what do you want?"

    I cocked my head.

    "Illegal merchandise."

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    "Oh¡­ O-OK, what can I do you for?"

    I had considered what type of equipment I would need for my first adventure outside the capital. Castille is looking after provisions which let me focus on my more roguish pursuits.

    "Rope, a couple of flasks of oil, and anything explosive."

    Elmer arched an eyebrow.

    "Someone¡¯s having a party."

    "The kind that''s starting soon."

    He snorted, waddling behind the curtain and returning a few moments later with full hands. He laid a bundle of thin hemp rope, a flask of oil in a flat brown container and a wooden box with a skull stamped on its side.

    "I only have one flask of oil. Will that do?"

    "It will. What''s in the box?"

    Elmer flashed me a conspiratorial smile.

    "Hand bombs that our soldiers have been chucking at our Dahlgeshi friends on the Southern border."

    He lifted the lid and pushed away the packing straw to reveal three apple-sized metal balls with string fuses poking out like stems.

    My grin widened.

    Oh, these were very illegal.

    "I''ll take it!"

    Elmer nodded.

    "And how will you be paying?"

    I held my breath. Now came the tricky part.

    "On credit."

    Elmer recoiled, blinking at me through the bottom row of his glasses.

    "Are you sure?"

    "Dead sure."

    He sighed, sulking as he disappeared behind the curtain. A moment later, he returned with two glass inkwells, two quills, a small knife, and a contract prewritten in High Elvish.

    Like most established merchants, Elmer keeps a small stock of credit contracts. These contracts allowed him to secure more risky transactions with collateral from their buyer. If the signee was unable to make a payment by a predefined date, the merchant could bring their contract to a Sanctifier Guildhall within ninety days and be paid out of the buyer''s belongings.

    Elmer laid out the inkwells and contract with a grimace. He pulled out a regular inkwell and quill from below his counter. Dipping the quill into the inkwell, he looked at me.

    "I need collateral and a payment date."

    I nodded. My plan was coming together.

    "If I don''t pay you back eleven months from now, you can have all my land."

    Elmer¡¯s face went white; his mouth slacked open as he looked at me in disbelief.

    "I-I couldn''t possibly¡­ Jacob, the value of the collateral is too high."

    I raised a correcting finger.

    "A merchant is entitled to request proportionate collateral based on the risk of repayment.¡±

    Thank you, Mr. Reeves.

    ¡°And Elmer¡­ I''m risking everything."

    He gulped.

    I sighed and put on my most disarming smile.

    "If it makes you feel any better, I¡¯ll lose the land anyway if things don¡¯t work out. I¡¯d rather you have it than the Sanctifiers."

    He blushed, the corners of his mouth bending upward in a hesitant smile.

    "I-I see. I see."

    He scribbled our names, collateral description, and payment date into the blank placeholders in the contract.

    Alden was a fool. Did he really think I would sacrifice my freedom for property? I wasn¡¯t like these nobles or merchants. If I wanted something, I would take it through trickery or force¡ªjust as Sin taught me. Now, no matter what happened, Alden would lose, and with any luck, I would be alive to see the look on his face.

    Elmer ran the small knife along the palm of his hand, letting the blood fill the inkwell and signing his side of the contract. I unwrapped my bandaged hand, stretching it until the wound reopened and filled my inkwell. With my left hand, I signed my side of the contract.

    "It''s done," I said, yawning as I rewrapped the bandage around my hand.

    Elmer gave me a grave nod, fanning the contract dry and retreating behind his shop''s curtain.

    I turned to the supplies I bought with the contract, sliding the flask of oil into my pants pocket and slinging the rope over my shoulder. The bombs presented a unique problem. I put one in my other pants pocket and tucked another into the folds of my belt sash. As I weighed the last explosive in my hand, Elmer reappeared from behind the curtain.

    "Don¡¯t worry, the fuse needs to be lit to explode the bomb."

    "And how would I do that?"

    From below the counter, Elmer pulled out a brass metal tube the length of my pinky finger. At the end of the tube, the metal stretched around the axle of a small stone wheel.

    "I call this a spark wheel. There¡¯s flint in the tube. When you spin the wheel, sparks come out.

    I picked up the tool, appreciating the simple yet ingenious design.

    "Elmer, this is incredible¡­"

    ¡°Thank you!¡±

    The man smiled ear to ear, pleased with himself.

    I slapped the counter, jolting him out of his expression.

    "Well, I¡¯m off. Elmer, wish me luck."

    I tucked the spark wheel next to the lockpick in my hair, stuffed the last bomb into the folds of my belt sash, and loped to the shop¡¯s entrance.

    "Alright, be safe. Your¡­ Um, Sin would want that."

    I stopped at the closed door and turned back at Elmer.

    ¡°Sin. Where is she?¡±

    ¡°I told you before¡­ in the wind.¡±

    Elmer tilted his head up.

    ¡°Always above us¡­ always watching.¡±

    Always watching? Good.

    I would show her what it means to be a weapon.

 The Cursed Lands Part 2

    The innkeeper¡¯s son passed me my coat outside the West Gate¡ªit was damp. My lips curled in distaste as I slipped my arms through the sleeves and gave the young man a reassuring nod.

    It couldn¡¯t be helped. In the game of hunter and hunted, comfort was a small sacrifice. I slipped the hand bombs out of my belt sash and into the coat¡¯s side pockets. I stuffed the oil flask into the secret compartment that once held my pocket sand.

    Well then, time to hit the road.

    I stopped mid-step, turning back to the city that had been my home for as long as I could remember. I thought back to scenes of desperation and friendship, hope and pain. This is where I abandoned Kirk, where I fought with Sin¡­ and where I loved Cynthia. Like Sin, this city had shaped me, leaving me with a tangle of emotions I couldn¡¯t begin to sort out. I didn¡¯t have time; more importantly, it didn¡¯t matter.

    A weapon is not sentimental.

    I met up with the rest of my party at a livery stable just outside the walls of the capital.

    The seasoned adventurers had changed their gear for the road. Castille donned a well-worn breastplate and a dark grey cloak with a wolf pelt sewn along the shoulders. Dugan wore flexible leather armour over a green tunic and sturdy targe strapped to his back.

    Isla dressed like Isla. She kept the hood of her navy-blue cloak up, holding her quarterstaff with both hands as if that was the only thing keeping her standing. The inn''s staff had gotten the worst stains out of her dress. I did my best to ignore her and her blue-eyed stare.

    As I walked up, Castille finished haggling prices for two young geldings. Horses were a blind spot in my training. They weren¡¯t useful in the capital¡¯s crowded streets and even less so during my time in the Red Room. Yet, according to Gren, horses were essential for small groups travelling between settlements. With the increased frequency of beastkin raids on the road, the last thing you wanted to do was get caught in an ambush on foot.

    Castille nodded to me as I approached.

    "Ah, Jacob. I was afraid you got cold feet."

    "Me, never. Nothing keeps you warm like Rugar¡¯s goons on your tail."

    Castille smirked.

    "Then your business in the capital is done?"

    "Yeah, are we ready to go?"

    She nodded.

    "We have enough provisions to last for a few months, two horses for you and Isla and some other necessities."

    I turned my head from Castille to the horses, not seeing a stockpile of supplies.

    "Where are these provisions?"

    Thor let out a series of squeaks that sounded like wheezing laughter.

    Castille pointed her thumb at the pack boar¡¯s saddlebags.

    "There with him."

    "Enchantment," Isla whispered, her voice dripping with awe.

    Castille shrugged.

    "I told you I''m from the Northwest."

    "Why does that matter?" I asked.

    "Enchanting items requires speaking High Song," Isla said.

    High Elvish, I corrected in my head.

    She continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

    "The Sanctifiers have prohibited the use of spoken High Song. That''s what makes enchanted items so rare. Most enchanted items are relics from when the Sanctifiers Guild was less influential or created by the elves of the Great Northwestern Forest."

    I touched the top of my cane. Alden''s reaction to my enchanted dagger made more sense now. Come to think of it, how did Elmer enchant my weapon? He must know how to speak High Elvish.

    "Like I told Jacob, we trade with the elves of the enclave. It was a gift from a trader. The saddlebags shrink items and reduce their weight," Castille said.

    That put my dagger and Sin¡¯s knife to shame.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    "They could make a fortune selling enchanted items on the black market," I said.

    "They would never do that. Enchanted items are special to elves. They are only given as gifts¡ªnever sold," Castille said.

    I shrugged.

    "Their loss."

    "Maybe," Castille said, swinging into the saddle of her tall, black mare.

    "Let''s go. We''re losing daylight."

    After three attempts, I finally mounted my gelding. The brown horse, speckled with white blotches, was unbothered despite my frustration.

    Isla mounted her white gelding with ease. Typical noble. She¡¯d probably been riding horses around her manor house for years.

    I half expected Dugan to use Thor as a mount. Instead, the quiet man had his own horse, a strong-backed, older gelding.

    Castille led the way at an easy pace, trotting along the main dirt road with grassland on either side.

    Was she going slow for me?

    As I hid the flush of embarrassment on my face, another thought entered my mind.

    "How are we going to break the curse on the Dellends?"

    The rest of the party turned to look at me.

    "You¡¯re asking that now?!" Castille asked over her shoulder.

    "There was a lot going on yesterday."

    Castille nodded.

    "True enough. Isla, you look like a smart girl. Enlighten him¡ªone mage to another."

    "What? Why me?!"

    Isla coughed, regaining some poise as her face flushed.

    Castille flashed her a playful smirk that narrowed the mage''s eyes.

    "OK. Um, there are two phenomena happening in the Dellends: the heavy metal curse and the inability to bond with the land. The common hypothesis is the two are connected.¡±

    ¡°Wait. What¡¯s this about bonding?¡± I asked.

    They didn¡¯t say that in the history books.

    Castille laughed in a mocking tone.

    ¡°It¡¯s the biggest open secret in Luskaine. The nobles of the Dellends can¡¯t become mages.¡±

    ¡°How is that possible?¡±

    Isla piped in.

    ¡°It¡¯s not uncommon. It happens when there is a contraction in contracts.¡±

    "Now you''re just making up words,¡± I said.

    Isla¡¯s face turned beet red.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t want me to explain it, then¡­ fine¡­¡±

    Her quiet voice trailed off into a whimper.

    Dugan walked his horse up to Castille and stared at her. The mirth left her face as she caught sight of him. I knew that look from Dugan. It was the kind Mrs. Dulldrey gave us when we misbehaved. He wasn¡¯t mad, he was disappointed.

    Castille nodded, something silent shared between them.

    ¡°Jacob. Quiet. Isla¡­ please continue.¡±

    Isla¡¯s face lit up, making her stand straighter on her horse.

    ¡°Right! Ignoring the monarch loophole, Sanctifiers¡¯ Landbound contracts are exclusive¡ªone owner for one plot of land. If more than one person has a contract to the same land, it creates a contradiction. No owner can bond to the land while the contradiction exists."

    "So, you''re saying the nobles can''t bond to the spirits of the land because someone else bonded to them first?" I asked.

    "Yes. Someone older than Luskaine."

    The conversation died; an eerie silence carried on the wind as we rode along the trail. Luskaine was founded over 130 years ago. If someone had been bound to the land all that time, they were old and powerful.

    "Do you think it''s an elf?" I asked.

    Isla shook her head.

    "Elves live twice as long as humans, so it''s possible, but-"

    "Elves don''t use Sanctifier contracts," Castille said.

    "Then how do they bond to the spirits of the land?" I asked.

    Castille gave me a quizzical look as if I should already know the answer.

    "I never asked them," she said with a shrug.

    "If it helps, whoever was originally bonded to the Dellends is also caught in the contradiction. They can¡¯t use their abilities, but¡­" Isla said, trailing off.

    "But what?"

    "They might have enchanted items. It makes sense for the time. The Sanctifiers were a new organization, and there were still elven slaves from the Old Elvish Empire that spoke High Song."

    Isla''s face blanched at her mention of elven slaves. I forced a smile to let her know it was fine.

    Since reading that poem all those years ago, I have learned much about the predations of the Old Elvish Empire. As evil as they were, retribution had been just as fierce when the empire fell.

    I ground my teeth.

    It had nothing to do with me, even if people liked making it my problem. Given my age, my father or mother would have been an enclave elf from the Northwest, the only elves that were never a part of the empire. The only elves that survived the purges. I forced the subject out of my mind; my life was messy enough as is.

    I leaned back in my saddle, tilting my head to the sky. Isla took that as a cue to end her lecture.

    It was a beautiful day¡ªwarm with a gentle breeze. The sky was light blue, with no clouds blocking the sun''s rays. We were trotting toward a forest on our left. That might be a good place to find some shade, as all this open country left us too exposed for my liking.

    I let the tension flow out of my body as my mind processed Isla¡¯s information.

    Our quest was an assassination job, and our target was older than Luskaine. Someone powerful enough to afford a Sanctifier contract to an entire fiefdom. That sounded like one of the petty kings that rose after the fall of the Old Elvish Empire. Someone like that could have many enchanted items, possibly one that made them live longer.

    A cold spike of fear ran through me. If I was able to work this out, others must have too. Yet, the quest had remained open since the founding of Luskaine. There was another angle here. One we needed to figure out before it was too late.

    Thor grunted a short series of sounds that I recognized as a warning.

    I looked up the road to see two riders galloping towards us at a breakneck pace.

    "Form up! Me, Dugan and Thor in the front; Jacob and Isla behind," Castille said.

    Her orders were sharp and crisp. She had to be former military, probably an officer.

    "We wait here. On my signal, we stay on the road and push through them to make it to Miller''s Hill."

    She pointed past the dense forest on our left to a large grassy hill in the distance.

    "What''s the signal?" Isla asked.

    "You''ll know it when you see it."

    We fell into formation, waiting with growing restlessness as the riders approached.

    I hunched down in my saddle, the back of my shoulders tingling as I scanned around us.

    I knew we were exposed.

    Next to me, Isla chewed on her bottom lip as she wrung her hands around her staff.

    Only Castille and Dugan sat on their horses, still as statues, as the riders pulled up short, covering us in a cloud of dust.

    As the dust settled, I recognized one of them.

    A heavy-set man with a wide mouth and a patch over one eye.

    It was Took.

 The Cursed Lands Part 3

    Took¡¯s frown deepened when he caught sight of me. He squinted, puckering the red scar tissue around his one good eye.

    ¡°There you are, elf.¡±

    "Took! You''re looking better every day."

    He bared his teeth, more a grimace than a smile.

    "You¡¯ll wish you looked as good as me after we¡¯re done with ya.¡±

    His gaze shifted to Castille.

    "This doesn''t have to turn sour, Castille. Give up the elf and go on your way."

    "The half-elf is in my party now, Took. I will keep him out of your hair."

    Took shook his head.

    "He needs to pay for my eye."

    "Your eye was the price for wisdom. The wisdom you can show by getting out of my way."

    Took passed a wary glance from Castille to Dugan.

    "I wanted this to go easy."

    He whistled, and the forest''s underbrush shook as shadowy figures stood up and walked into the sun. Twenty grey-haired veterans formed two wide ranks behind Took and the other rider blocking the road. I became more impressed with Castille with each battle-hardened face my eyes passed over.

    Took¡¯s plan had been simple. By charging down the road, he wanted us to panic, take cover in the forest and get ambushed by the twenty men now in front of us. Castille had seen through the misdirection in an instant and called Took¡¯s bluff. As amazed as I was with Castille, the series of events left me shaken.

    My first instinct was to hide in the forest. If I had followed my gut, I would be dead. No, the fact that they hadn''t shot us full of arrows from the treeline meant they wanted me alive, and I didn¡¯t want to find out why.

    "All your talk of wisdom, yet you wanna make an enemy of Rugar Centovian. Just for some elf?"

    Castille leaned forward in her saddle; her voice came out in a low, dangerous growl.

    "The half-elf stays with me. Now¡­ move or be moved."

    Took laughed, looking around at his fellow soldiers for support.

    "So, there''s some steel in that spine after all. Where was that when you were fighting those hairy bastards on the border?"

    Castille sat straighter in her saddle, silent as she cocked her head at an angle. Tension filled the air like a hunter waiting to release their bowstring or a big cat about to pounce.

    "Now!"

    She and Dugan charged, catching Took and the other rider off guard as their horses whinnied and veered off the road. They formed a wedge that pushed Castille, Dugan, Thor, and Isla through the enemy encirclement.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    If only I were so lucky.

    As I urged my horse forward, Took managed to get control over his reins and charged in my direction. My horse panicked at the sudden charge, rearing up and dumping me onto the hard-packed earth.

    I didn''t have time to recover from the shock of the fall. I found myself rolling to my feet, my head narrowly missing a blow from a foot soldier''s iron banded club.

    "I just had this coat cleaned!" I said as the rest of the foot soldiers advanced to cut off my escape. In a smooth motion, I slipped my cane out of my belt and blocked a club¡¯s overhead strike with the sharp crack of wood meeting wood. I twisted the top of my cane to unsheathe my short sword, burying the tip of the blade into my attacker''s foot.

    Wounding an enemy is often better than killing them. It removes them from the fight and gives other potential attackers the responsibility of caring for them. Besides, if Rugar got this angry over one of Took''s eyes, what would he do if I killed one of his men?

    Luckily, I didn''t need to find out.

    As the mercenaries focused on me, Castille and Dugan doubled back. They plowed into the back of the mercenaries'' advancing lines while Isla and Thor stayed back further along the road. The lines broke as Castille charged through the enemies, holding the bare blade of her longsword in one hand to swing the pommel down and bash skulls.

    It looked like she had the same idea¡ªwound don¡¯t kill.

    Dugan broke off to Castille''s left to widen the gap in the enemy¡¯s line and leave an escape route.

    "Get on!" Castille said, pulling up beside me.

    I didn''t need to hear twice.

    I sheathed my short sword and slid the cane back into my belt. As I took her outstretched hand, Took charged again from my left side. A moment later, the earth in front of Took¡¯s horse shot up, making the animal trip and fall face-first onto the ground. Took as sent flying from the saddle, rolling to a stop at my feet. I got on Castille''s horse and winked at him.

    "Let''s do this again sometime."

    "Dugan, let''s go!" Castille said.

    Dugan looked to her and nodded as he held off three men on foot with measured swings from his axe. Castille''s horse blazed past the gap left in the disorganized forces, with Dugan following just behind us on the right.

    I turned back to see Took mounting his dazed horse and the other rider organizing their forces to make a counterattack. There was also a third rider galloping hard toward the capital on my horse, probably leaving to bring back reinforcements.

    "We need to get out of here."

    "What do you think we''re doing!" Castille said.

    A unified shout rang out behind us as the mercenaries advanced in orderly lines, with Took and the other rider slightly ahead on horseback. It would be over if they could keep us engaged long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

    "Stop! I have an idea."

    "You just said to get out of here!"

    I reached into my right pocket and pulled out one of the hand bombs I bought from Elmer.

    Castille gawked at the explosive over her shoulder.

    "What else are you hiding in those pockets?"

    She pulled up her horse as I slipped the spark wheel out of my hair.

    Dugan pulled up next to us, eyes widening as he saw me move the tool to the explosive''s fuse. I ran my finger along the stone wheel to strike the flint in the connected metal tube. The wheel was stiff from lack of use.

    "C''mon¡­"

    The sound of galloping hooves and marching feet was closing in.

    "C''mon¡­ C''mon¡­"

    I could make out Took''s voice shouting over the approaching horde.

    "There!"

    The wheel moved, striking the flint and showering the fuse with sparks. The fuse ignited, and I was filled with the powerful urge to run.

    "Dugan, how''s your throwing arm?" I asked.

    Dugan looked to me and nodded, wheeling around his horse to face the mercenaries with one hand outstretched.

    I passed the lit bomb to him.

    "Make sure you give them a few seconds to get away."

    He nodded, taking the bomb and urging his horse forward in a trot. Took, and the other rider slowed at the sight of one rider advancing.

    Then they saw the bomb.

    I could make out their wide, fear-stricken eyes as they turned their horses away from Dugan. Dugan turned his horse to the left, keeping his upper body forward to twist his torso and generate power for his throw. With an impressive heave, Dugan launched the bomb into their ranks.

 The Cursed Lands Part 4

    The orderly lines of Rugar¡¯s mercenaries scattered from the bomb. A few moments later, it exploded, sending packed earth and grass flying overhead. Only a few mercenaries were pushed back by the blast, but many more let out grunts of pain as metal shrapnel found its way to flesh.

    I hope no one was dead¡­ for my sake.

    Dugan caught up to us as we rode up to Isla and Thor, her ever-vigilant guard.

    I turned to Isla. As much as I hated to admit it, she helped me escape from Took.

    "Thanks for the help.¡±

    "What?" Isla asked.

    "You tripped Took¡¯s horse by raising the earth. Didn¡¯t you?"

    She shook her head.

    "Then who¡­"

    "Never mind that now. We need to get to Miller''s Hill," Castille said.

    Thor grunted in agreement.

    We rode hard along the road for the next ten minutes, dismounting to walk up Miller''s Hill and look over the battlefield. Castille pulled a spyglass out of Thor''s saddlebag while the rest of us made the best use of our eyes.

    "Hmm," Castille said.

    "Is that a good hmm or a bad hmm?" I asked.

    "Good. Our mercenary friends took some injuries, but they''re all moving about, so nothing too serious. More importantly, they aren''t following us. We have your bomb to thank for that. Right now, they''re wondering what other tricks we have up our sleeve."

    She collapsed her spyglass and tossed it to Dugan.

    "Isla, can you cover our retreat? I want to give their scouts trouble if they try to look for us."

    Isla wiped the shocked expression from her face and brushed loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear.

    "Y-yeah, I can do that."

    With her staff held close to her chest, she stepped in front of us. She raised her staff overhead, her arms trembling before she slammed it down on the grassy hill.

    A moment later, mist materialized at the base of the hill and rolled outward. The thick, white fog covered the road, the forest and the mercenaries collecting their wounded. The fog continued to spread over the grassland to the capital, silhouetted in the distance. Isla sagged against her staff, using it for support as she turned back to us.

    "I may have overdone it," she said, panting with each breath. There were dark circles under her eyes like she had missed a day of sleep.

    "Spirits below!" I said, stepping forward to look at the sea of fog before us. The scale of this magic was the stuff of history, straight out of Peter Luskaine''s War of Unification.

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    "Isla. Who are you?" Castille asked.

    "A tired mage," Isla said as she returned to her horse.

    The edge in Castille¡¯s voice matched the hardness in the older woman''s eyes. If Isla noticed the tone, she didn¡¯t react to it.

    Castille eyed Isla as Dugan helped her back into her saddle.

    "Another time."

    Castille swung into her saddle with practiced ease.

    "We''ll ride hard until nightfall to get as much distance between them and us before making camp. Let¡¯s go!"

    "Castille¡­"

    I searched the ground at my feet to find the right words.

    "Thank you for having my back."

    Castille smiled.

    "Do you think you can get far in this business by selling out your allies?"

    I shook my head, my face flushing with embarrassment.

    "You made yourself an enemy of Rugar¡­ Because of me!"

    "What of it? There are hundreds of men like Rugar, but only one Castille Ironside. Now, will you ride or stay here and enjoy the view?"

    She outstretched her hand, and I took it for the second time that day.

    As Castille promised, we rode hard for the rest of the day. As night fell, we made a sharp turn off the path to make camp at an old, abandoned watchtower. Luskaine was littered with the remnants of city-states and small kingdoms that rose after the fall of the Old Elvish Empire. Many of these kingdoms didn''t last a decade, being swallowed by their neighbours or falling apart internally due to civil wars or incompetent rulers. The watchtower was one such remnant, built for a ruler whose name was resigned to old, dusty tomes. Its fortifications and positioning made it an ideal camping spot for travellers wary of ambushes on the road. As we dismounted, I noticed signs of use by other campers.

    "Will Rugar''s men expect us to be here?" I asked.

    "Maybe. Maybe not. There one or two camping spots like this in the area, but I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll follow us," Castille said.

    "Why not?"

    Castille jerked her head at Isla, who almost collapsed as she dismounted her horse. She was still drained from her stunt this morning, with a sickly parlour to her skin and feverish sweating.

    "It''s good to have such a powerful mage with us," I said.

    Castille scoffed.

    "You don''t like nobles, do you?"

    "Get off. We have to make camp."

    We made a fire inside the watchtower, using my spark wheel and timber stored in Thor''s saddlebags. What wasn''t that boar carrying? The watchtower was a squat two-storey building. The roof had collapsed, leaving stone bricks littering the ground floor. The second floor had rotten through, with only the wooden frame hanging above us.

    For dinner, we ate the rations from our supplies. Once we were farther along the journey, Castille and Dugan would hunt for wild game. As the fire died down, Castille assigned us to watch duties. As the most inexperienced members, Isla and I would take the first watch together, while the veterans, including Thor, would take one watch each later in the night.

    As Castille and Dugan disappeared into their shared tent, I sat at the fire with Isla. I caught myself taking sidelong glances at the stranger. Her similarities to old, dead friends raised uncomfortable feelings I wanted to stay buried. I hated it. I hated her, but that wasn¡¯t fair. How many people have judged me based on how I looked? On something as silly as the pointiness of my ears.

    I sighed. What would Sin do?

    My left hand touched the handle of my cane. It was simple. Isla was useful, and as long as she stayed useful, there was value in being friendly with her. The moment she stopped being useful... The moment she became a liability to me¡­ I would-

    Kill what I love!

    "I didn''t expect that," Isla said.

    I blinked, loosening my left hand¡¯s death grip on the cane.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t expect what?" I asked, turning to face her.

    The dinner had returned some colour to her face, but her eyes were still sunken from exhaustion.

    She pointed her chin across the dying fire to the veteran''s tent, raising an eyebrow at the low moans escaping the canvas.

    "I didn''t expect them to be together," she said.

    I raised my eyebrows.

    "Oh¡­ To be honest, I don¡¯t know what they are."

    She gave me a slight smile and went back to watching the fire¡¯s embers.

    Friendly. Be friendly.

    My mind grasped for another thread of conversation, finding the one topic I was trying to avoid.

    "I''m sorry for breaking your nose."

    She gave me an awkward smile.

    "It''s alright. It''s funny if you look at it a certain way."

    The conversation died.

    I messed up.

    Sighing, I turned to the dying fire, the embers reminding me of home.

    Hmm. That might work.

    "Isla. Can you teach me how to be a mage?"

 The Cursed Lands Part 5

    Isla¡¯s eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made me reach for my weapon.

    "No one''s ever asked me that."

    She crawled closer to me, hands and knees on the dirt floor. Her eyes, so much like Kirk''s, bored into me, sizing me up and taking my measure.

    "What can you do?"

    "I don''t know, I became Landbound yesterday."

    "Really?!"

    She crawled closer to me, her face inches from mine. I recoiled and turned away from her.

    "I-I can show you how to draw upon your connection to the land. My teachers showed me how."

    Her breath was hot in my ear.

    "O-OK!"

    I nodded. Anything to end this ordeal.

    "Close your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice."

    I did as she instructed.

    "Empty your mind. Tell me what you feel."

    This was easy enough for me. Meditation was a regular part of my training. It focuses the mind, relieves stress, and makes one more aware of their surroundings. Sinking into my sitting position, I returned to that place far away.

    ¡°Well, what do you feel?¡±

    I sighed. How would this be any different from all the other times I meditated?

    "I feel you next to me¡­ I feel the heat from the campfire¡­ Oh¡­"

    I shifted my awareness from the external world to my internal one. Two distinct feelings tugged at what I could only describe as my soul.

    "Do you feel it? The connection you made through your contract."

    I couldn¡¯t believe it. This was real. This was magic!

    "I do," I said, forcing the amazement out of my voice

    "On your first try? Wow. OK. Reach out to that connection."

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Will it to happen.¡±

    There was that word again: will.

    I reached out to one connection and felt Elmer¡¯s soul on the other side. I knew that he was alive, healthy and in the middle of a deep sleep.

    So, this is what happened when I signed a contract of credit. We became connected legally and spiritually. We would know if anything happened to each other and be able to track each other down. I understood Elmer¡¯s reluctance to sign the contract now, this connection was too intimate for a stranger. I would have to thank him when I saw him again. Not before bullying him into answering more of my questions. There were some interrogation techniques I wanted to try and-

    "Any luck? You''ve been quiet for some time," Isla said.

    "Oh! Sorry, my mind was somewhere else."

    "It''s OK. We still have time before Castille¡¯s watch."

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    I exhaled, sitting up straighter.

    I re-entered my meditative state, moving away from the connection I now recognized as Elmer to the connection that felt stronger. Multiple souls squirmed at my touch¡ªthe sea of souls beneath our feet.

    I recoiled, snapping my eyes open and taking short, shuddering breaths.

    "What¡¯s wrong?" Isla asked.

    "They''ve been there his whole time¡­ the spirits of the dead, and just we trample all over them."

    Isla quirked an eyebrow.

    "Didn''t you know this already?"

    "It''s different when you feel it. They feel¡­ trapped."

    Isla looked down at a patch of earth in front of us.

    "That''s because they are."

    ¡°What?!¡±

    "If it makes you feel better, we don''t think they¡¯re aware. Scholars have tried singling out souls and asking them questions about themselves. It doesn''t work. The accepted theory is that when we die, what joins the chorus is not us."

    "Chorus?"

    "Didn''t you hear them? The chorus of voices, the echoes of who they were. There have been accounts of people hearing their parents and grandparents in the chorus. Parents whose children have died have heard their laughter. I''m told it''s quite comforting."

    I gave her an incredulous look. She was being serious.

    Isla rested her hand on mine. I pulled it back.

    "We can stop here if you want. You''ve gotten far on your first try."

    I paused for a moment and shook my head.

    "No, I can keep going."

    A weapon is not afraid.

    I reached out to the connection again and pushed deeper. My consciousness travelled away from the campsite, shooting across the sky to the capital and the burned-out ruins of my home.

    A cacophony of screams and sobs greeted me. My consciousness drowned in a cauldron of pain, anger and regret. It was warm, and then it burned.

    I recoiled, clawing my way back to the surface only to slam into something big, round and gold. I was crushed under the weight of Cynthia¡¯s ring as it pushed me deeper into the murky depths.

    Deeper¡­

    Deeper¡­

    Deeper¡­

    # # #

    My eyes fluttered open.

    I was warm.

    Turning onto my stomach in the large bed, I caught sight of the blood spreading on the white sheets. My blood. Each breath was a labour as strength drained from my limbs.

    I crawled anyway.

    I can¡¯t die here. I can¡¯t¡­

    I grabbed fistfuls of cloth and pulled myself inch by inch to the edge of the bed.

    A sliver of metal bit into my thigh. I clenched my teeth, looking over my shoulder to glare at my tormentor.

    You don¡¯t deserve my screams.

    The tall, broad-shouldered man was dressed in all black, with a hood and mask like Lady Sin. A curved dagger that looked like a wolf¡¯s fang was buried in my thigh.

    ¡°Cynthia!¡±

    My head turned to the doorway across the room.

    ¡°Cindra.¡±

    Her emotions were plain on her face for the first time in my life. She stared, eyes wide, mouth caught in a silent scream, knuckles white as she clutched the skirts of her maid uniform. She was frozen, stuck between running away and rushing forward to fight the man in black.

    ¡°Cindra! Cindra, run! Run now!¡±

    She flinched at the sound of my voice, blinking wetness from her eyes as she shook her head.

    ¡°Cindra! Go!¡±

    She looked at me with a painful, longing stare and nodded, her eyes hard, as she disappeared out of the doorway.

    That¡¯s my sister!

    I pushed my face into the bed to muffle my screams as the man twisted the dagger.

    ¡°You¡¯re only making it worse for her,¡± he said in a gravelly voice.

    He ripped the dagger free, taking heavy steps across the bed to chase after Cindra.

    ¡°No!¡±

    I grabbed his ankle as he reached the edge, making him trip and faceplant on the floor.

    ¡°Bitch!¡±

    He rose to his feet, loping across the room and sticking his head out the doorway.

    ¡°Gone? Fine. I¡¯ll get to her. For now, you get the pain. Sin¡¯s orders.¡±

    He walked to the dresser next to the bed, picked up the lantern on top of it, and smashed it on the floor. A gentle breeze entered through the windows, swirling around the man and feeding the fire growing in the room.

    I crawled, ignoring the aches of pain from the wound in my thigh and the twelve other stab wounds. I crawled as the man disappeared through the doorway. I crawled to my new life, which was just out of reach.

    My legs gave out first, followed a moment later by the muscles that held up my head. I stretched my hands to the edge of the bed and pulled¡ªnot enough, too weak. My head lolled on its¡¯ side, my eyes resting on the golden ring Jacob gave me.

    That silly boy.

    My shallow breaths turned to sobs; my vision blurred as tears poured from my eyes and mixed with the blood on the sheets. The fire licked the side of the bed, singeing my fingers.

    At least one of us made it out of this mansion.

    Cindra¡­

    Jacob¡­

    Please be safe.

    # # #

    My eyes snapped open as a pillar of flame erupted from the campfire.

    Tongues of fire lapped at what was left of the upper floor, setting the wooden beams ablaze.

    "No! Not again. NOT AGAIN!"

    My eyes locked on the flames and the fiery beams above us, seconds away from falling.

    I barely remember Isla trying to shake me to my senses. I barely remember a shirtless Dugan dragging me out of the watchtower.

    I do remember crying as another building burned.

 The Cursed Lands Part 6

    The next morning, I woke up to the familiar smell of ash. I lifted my head from the bedroll that had been propped under my head.

    "Morning," Castille said.

    She sat on a large, moss-covered rock, running a damp rag across her longsword. She bared her teeth at me, wiping the blade down with broad, aggressive strokes.

    "I''m sorry. I messed up."

    "No, I messed up," Isla said.

    Isla sat on my other side, her staff balanced across her lap.

    "You both messed up!¡± Castille said.

    Isla stood up and knelt over me, pressing the back of her fingers against my forehead.

    "I should have stopped you before it went this far. How do you feel?"

    My mind flooded with images of the man in black. The thought of his curved dagger sent stabs of phantom pain up and down my body.

    He tortured her! That monster. Who was he?

    I memorized his voice, the way he walked¡ªhis scent. He had to be connected to Sin. Was he another one of her lackeys?

    Whoever you are, I will find you, and I will kill you.

    "Jacob?" Isla asked.

    I grit my teeth.

    "Better. I¡¯m better."

    I tried to sit up and was hit with a sudden burst of dizziness and fatigue that made me slump back to the ground.

    "Wait! Don''t get up. You used too much will. The fire burned for hours after we escaped the watchtower."

    "The fire? I did that?"

    "Yes¡­"

    Isla frowned as she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

    "I''ve never seen someone with fire abilities before. What happened to your land?"

    "My home burned down, and everyone I knew died in the fire."

    She gasped.

    "That''s awful,¡± Isla whispered.

    "Isla¡­ have ever heard of people that can control the wind?¡±

    She furrowed her eyebrows.

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    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s possible for a Landbound mage.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ Isla?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Is being a mage supposed to hurt?"

    "No, but it can be tiring."

    I turned away from her to Dugan and Thor, who were sifting through the watchtower''s burnt debris.

    "It hurt for me. I lived through the final moments of¡­¡±

    I paused.

    ¡°Someone that lived at the mansion."

    "That- those are just echoes," Isla said, an edge of anxiety in her voice.

    I turned to her, staring into her big, blue eyes.

    "It was real. Real enough for me."

    My body shook as a wave of exhaustion washed through me.

    "What''s happening to me?"

    "Your losing will."

    "What?"

    "Everything we do requires will: getting out of bed, walking to the market, even reading a book. When we use our abilities, we draw upon the pool of will within us. When that pool runs dry¡­"

    She flashed a quick, amused smile.

    "We end up like this."

    "Oh¡­"

    I laid back, staring up at the morning sky.

    "Our pool of will is usually replenished with sleep, but it also fluctuates based on other factors," Isla said.

    She had begun a full-blown lecture, and I was too tired to stop her.

    "One of those factors is conviction."

    "Conviction.¡±

    I repeated the word before I could stop myself. I should have just rolled over and pretended to fall asleep. On my other side, Castille raised her sword, examining the fresh coat of oil with a dark expression on her face.

    I was trapped. There was no escape.

    "Conviction.¡±

    Isla continued.

    ¡°Many scholars call it the X factor. It represents how strongly we believe what we are doing is right. The stronger the belief, the more will. The opposite is also true. Now that you''re scared of your abilities, your fear is lowering your will."

    My lips twisted in a snarl.

    "I''m not scared!"

    A weapon is not afraid.

    I sat up in one smooth motion.

    Isla gave me a warm smile.

    "See. Conviction."

    I blinked in surprise. It was like I was jolted awake. Awake enough to sit up, at least.

    Isla touched my shoulder.

    ¡°Our abilities should never be painful. Quintessence resonates with the character of the land, and right now, your land is traumatized and scarred by violence. The only way to heal the land is to build something new. What do you want to build?"

    What did I want to build? She was talking about a legacy¡ªsomething that would outlive me and be passed down to my kids or grandkids. I hadn¡¯t thought that far. For most of my life, I was nothing; for all I knew, I would leave nothing.

    "I don¡¯t know," I said.

    Isla smiled.

    "You don''t have to know right now. We''re on a long journey."

    The soft crunch of boots on grass announced Castille as she walked up to me. She looked down, her hard eyes showing uncharacteristic softness.

    "Can you stand? We need to get moving. Your little stunt just alerted every bandit and beastkin in the area."

    I tried to get to my feet but collapsed under my watery legs like a newborn deer.

    "He needs to rest, Castille. It''s the best way to recover his will."

    "Can Dugan heal the symptoms?"

    Isla shook her head.

    "This type of fatigue can not be magically healed."

    Castille let out an exasperated sigh.

    How many years had it been since I felt this vulnerable?

    "I''m sorry, Castille."

    She raised her palms.

    "What can be done? I won''t lie. I would tie you to the back of my horse to leave this place faster."

    Dugan and Thor walked up to her side. Castille and Dugan¡¯s eyes met, and something imperceptible passed between them.

    She rubbed her chin, looking to the woods far off to my right.

    "One of the tents was damaged in the fire. We''ll turn it into a stretcher using some tree branches for poles. Dugan and I will carry you until mid-day. You''d better be able to sit a horse by then."

    She turned away as Dugan pulled out his bearded axe and walked to the woods.

    I frowned.

    "What''s wrong?" Isla asked.

    Castille looked back and smirked.

    "He catches on faster than you. With only two tents left, you two will have to share one. Jacob, try not to burn it down."

    Castille walked off to tend to the horses.

    I laid back, resting my head on the bedroll.

    Isla and I were going to share a tent.

    I had a lot of lectures in my future.

 The Cursed Lands Part 7

    Travel that day was slow but uneventful. I spent the morning swaying on the makeshift stretcher carried by Dugan and Castille. By noon, I found the strength to ride. Without a horse of my own, I rode behind Dugan on his gelding. As the sun crawled across the sky, the ambush Castille feared did not happen.

    Before night, we struck camp a few hours away from the road. The surrounding woods were full of wildlife, giving Castille plenty of game to hunt. She used her longbow with deadly accuracy to bring down a stag. She and Dugan field-dressed it with practiced efficiency.

    Isla and I could only watch with wide eyes. Between her experience as a highborn lady and my experience as a street rat turned rogue, watching was all we could do. She always hovered near me now, another lesson on Landbound magic on the tip of her tongue. I was beginning to enjoy her lectures. They had utility: I learned something new, and it distracted me from reliving Cynthia¡¯s last memory. She found a useful prop as we sat around the fire to eat venison stew.

    "Think of this bowl as the amount of land you hold."

    She held the plain wooden bowl with both hands.

    "The more land you hold, the bigger the bowl. The stew is the will you burn when you use your abilities."

    She positioned the bowl near the pot as Dugan poured another serving of the stew with a steady hand.

    "The amount of land you hold determines how much magic you can output in a single moment. It¡¯s your cap. The will you burn determines your actual output. A well-trained mage can control how much they fill the bowl from moment to moment. If your bowl is very big, you may never fill it completely."

    I chimed in.

    "So, it''s possible to not have enough stew to fill your bowl. What happens if you have more stew than the bowl can fill? Does it spill over?"

    "No, it means you can stay at your capacity for a longer time. Like what happened with you."

    My mouth went dry as I remembered the pillar of fire shooting up to the second story of the watchtower. It had lasted for hours, she said.

    Isla looked at me with a mixture of concern and guilt.

    "I''m sorry; I didn''t mean to bring that up again."

    "No. It''s alright¡­"

    I grasped for something to say to change the subject.

    "Your bowl must be huge."

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    Brilliant, Jacob.

    On the other side of the fire, Castille laughed. She paid closer attention to Isla¡¯s lectures than me¡ªalways with her hand close to her sword hilt.

    Isla''s face flushed.

    "It¡¯s not that big. I - I grew up near a lake in the countryside."

    "Cut the crap. We all saw what you did the other day," Castille said.

    "And you''ve been staring at me like a Dahlgeshi stares at a bathtub ever since. Why do you hate me, Castille?" Isla asked.

    Castille''s face twisted into a mocking smile.

    "You¡¯re a noble and a powerful one at that. Your shy girl act might fool Dugan or Jacob, but I know your type. You¡¯re using us. We¡¯re pawns in some game and don¡¯t even know it yet. A game between nobles."

    "You don''t know me, Castille! What I''ve been through?! Who I''ve lost?!" Isla shouted.

    The pain in Isla''s voice cut familiar wounds in me. Her eyes became glossy, and the stew in her bowl rocked back and forth like waves breaking on the shore.

    "WALK! NOW!"

    A voice like distant thunder cut through the tension in the camp. It took me a second to realize the source.

    It was Dugan.

    The stocky man set his calm gaze on Castille. Their eyes met for a lingering moment before she stood up.

    ¡°Aye, I¡¯ll walk.¡±

    She bent down in a mock curtesy in front of Isla.

    ¡°Use us, my Lady, because I¡¯ll be sure to use you.¡±

    She looked down at Dugan, who had gone back to doling out another serving of stew to Thor. She snarled, storming off into the darkness outside the campsite.

    I sat stunned.

    Dugan could speak.

    # # #

    We spent the rest of the night in silence. By the time Isla and I turned in for bed, Castille had not returned. The tent we shared was not meant for two people, at least not two people in separate bedrolls. We positioned ourselves on the opposite sides of the tent, leaving a patch of grass between us that had just enough space to build a single brick wall.

    The awkwardness was its own wall. I shifted in my bedroll, focusing on a corner of the canvas tent. Cynthia¡¯s body wasn¡¯t even cold, yet another woman had already found her way into my private quarters. Her burned corpse flashed in my mind, and I fought to keep the night¡¯s stew down.

    Cynthia¡­ no one can replace you, not Cindra or this blue-eyed wannabe.

    Cindra? I lifted my head off the bedroll. In Cynthia¡¯s memory, she escaped the assassin. I thought back to my meeting with Alden.

    ¡°Only four bodies,¡± I whispered.

    Cindra was alive!

    Was she OK? Where is she now? How do I find her?

    My mind raced at the new possibilities. Cindra survived and¡­ and¡­

    I failed her.

    The thought made my stomach sink. I broke my promise to keep Cynthia safe. There was no way I could face her. Not now.

    I curled into myself. It was going to be a long night.

    "Hey," Isla whispered.

    Canvas rustled as she turned in her bedroll.

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    "Do you hate me too?"

    I despise you.

    "Why would I hate you?"

    "Because I''m a noble."

    "I shrugged under my bedroll. When I was on the street, nobles ignored me just like everyone else¡ªthey just wore fancier clothes. Then, I became a noble or at least I thought I was. It was the happiest time of my life.¡±

    "Why?"

    Images of Gren, Cynthia, Mr. Reeves and Mrs. Dulldrey around the kitchen table flashed in my mind.

    A weapon¡­

    A weapon is not sentimental.

    I laughed.

    ¡°It was fun to boss people around.¡±

    She giggled.

    ¡°Really? I never got around to that.¡±

    "Then what kind of noble are you?¡±

    ¡°Do you really want to know?¡±

    Before I could answer, warning calls from Thor cut through the silence that settled over the camp.

    Castille was right. We were about to get ambushed.

 The Cursed Lands Part 8

    I slipped out of my bedroll and got dressed on my knees, turning away to my side of the tent so Isla could do the same.

    I grabbed my cane and stuck two fingers between the tent flaps to look outside. Through the tent¡¯s narrow sliver, I could make out the middle of the camp. The campfire was still lit under the stew pot, but Dugan and Thor were nowhere to be seen.

    I froze, holding my breath as three figures stalked about out of the darkness. They were naked down to their waists, with thick, dark fur that covered their bodies and faces. The tattered, bloody remains of clothes wrapped around their waists, stolen from their last victims.

    Beastkin, the native inhabitants of the Abyssal lands and the first victims of the Old Elvish Empire. I did not expect to see them roving this close to the capital and so far from their reserve.

    I pulled away as they came into the light of the campfire, avoiding their searching feline eyes. Beastkin looked like humans with catlike features, although it was more accurate to say humans looked like beastkin, as much as they hated to admit it.

    Isla pulled up beside me.

    ¡°Who is it?¡±

    ¡°Three beastkin: Two males and one female.¡±

    Isla chewed her bottom lip and nodded.

    I exhaled, calming my nerves and poked my fingers through the opening to take another look.

    The lead beastkin male walked to the campfire, sniffing the air as the other two followed. Of course, Dugan''s fine cooking drew them to our camp. I smiled to myself, examining the wooden spears in their hands. This was going to be easy.

    I turned back to Isla and recoiled at the ball of water hovering above her hand. It was the size of my head.

    She nodded again, this time with more confidence.

    ¡°Whenever you''re ready.¡±

    I turned back to the beastkin huddled around the pot and had an idea.

    I raised my right hand, focusing on the campfire. Landbound magic was different than I expected. There were no magic words or funny hand gestures. It was like using a third arm you didn¡¯t know you had; it was awkward at first, but natural. As I focused on the campfire, my hands burned¡ªphantom pain from the night before when I was drawn into Cynthia¡¯s memory. I grit my teeth through the pain, adding heat to the campfire. The stew pot bubbled, drawing the attention of the beastkin who looked over it¡ªexactly what I was waiting for.

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    I remembered the night before, recalling that feeling of forgetting myself. It had been true freedom, if only for a few hours.

    The campfire exploded in a pillar of flame as I unleashed all my will. The stew pot launched into the air. They screamed as the hot metal bowl collided with their faces, the steaming contents scalding their fur.

    ¡°Now!¡± I said, bursting through the tent flaps.

    Isla made her move, crystalizing the ball of water into ice and launching at the lead beastkin''s head. There was a dull thud as the projectile knocked him unconscious, followed by a sharp crack as the ball of ice exploded into shards that bit into flesh and blinded the female beastkin.

    I charged through the hail of ice, tackling the second male beastkin to the ground. I willed my dagger into my hand and¡­ froze.

    It should have been simple: a quick slice across the carotid artery, as I had been taught. But I hesitated long enough for the beastkin''s yellow eyes to fix on me. Without a second thought, he slammed his forehead into mine. As I blinked away stars, my world turned upside down as he threw me over him. I rolled several feet, stopping short of slamming into a tree.

    Why did I freeze?

    As I shook off my daze, the beastkin charged. Half of his face was burnt an angry red from the spilled stew, while shards of ice jutted out of his right shoulder and arm. I was numb as he pulled back his spear to stab me through the heart.

    That¡¯s when the tree I was thrown beside opened its eyes.

    The beastkin screamed as the tree threw a bearded axe in a short arc at his head. As the axe split the skull, the beastkin¡¯s eyes popped out of their sockets. He launched his spear in a final death spasm, throwing it wide to bounce off the tree''s bark.

    Dugan pulled himself from the tree''s surface; his skin, clothing and hair were the same texture as the bark, acting as camouflage and armour. He walked past me and jerked his axe from the beastkin''s head. With single-minded focus, he executed the female and unconscious male beastkin as Isla walked up to my side, the colour draining from her face.

    I had choked, and it almost got me killed.

    Dugan walked up to me and held out his hand. I took it. He easily lifted me to my feet, motioning forward with his axe as he disappeared into the night.

    "Have you ever killed anyone?" Isla asked.

    ¡°No¡­¡±

    She looked from the bodies that littered the camp to the direction Dugan ran off.

    "It looks like you''ll get your chance tonight."

    She held her staff tight to her body and ran after Dugan.

    I stood alone in the camp, the dagger heavy in my hand.

    I failed¡­ again.

    Is this why Sin disappeared after the fire? What utility was there in a weapon that couldn¡¯t kill?

    I took a deep breath and then another.

    Isla was right. I would get another chance tonight, and next time, I wouldn¡¯t hesitate. Gripping my dagger tighter, I ran into the forest after Dugan and Isla.

 The Cursed Lands Part 9

    Beams of moonlight pierced the tree canopy, lighting the edge of Isla''s blue cloak.

    I stalked to her side, kneeling beside her.

    She gasped.

    ¡°You scared me!" Isla whispered.

    "Sorry. Where¡¯s Dugan?"

    "Just ahead." I strained my eyes and made out Dugan crouched behind a tree; the combination of low light and natural camouflage made him difficult to spot.

    "What are we waiting for?" I whispered.

    Loud oinking and rustling underbrush answered my question.

    Thor burst through a shrub with five beastkin hot on his tail. He was covered in tree bark like Dugan, protecting him as beastkin''s spear thrusts bounced off his hide.

    Isla summoned another ball of water. I tightened my grip on my dagger. Dugan leaned to the side, pressing his hand on the ground.

    The underbrush writhed, wrapping around the legs of the two leading beastkin. They slammed face first onto the ground, tripping the three beastkin that trailed after them. Dugan stood up and went to work, severing flesh and bone as casually as one chopped wood.

    I think Castille undersold Dugan¡¯s skills.

    Rustling from the left announced three more beastkin charging our flank. Dugan met the first beastkin with his shield, using his smaller stature to duck low. The shield cracked into the beastkin''s shins. Dugan lifted his shield, sending the beastkin cartwheeling over him. Ignoring the thrown beastkin, he ran forward to meet the other two.

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    Isla and I turned to each other, understanding passing between our eyes.

    It was now or never.

    I bounded toward the beastkin getting to its feet. Isla stood up, crystalizing the ball of water into ice and breaking off shards to pummel the approaching beastkin. Dugan used the distraction to swing his axe low, hacking off the legs of one of the beastkin just below the knee.

    I threw my dagger at the beastkin Dugan tossed. He shrugged his shoulder, letting the dagger sink into the meat of his deltoid. I willed the dagger back to me. It materialized in my left hand a second before I tackled the beastkin to the ground.

    We rolled in a mass of limbs, coming to a stop with me on top. I held the knife over him and stabbed down. He caught my wrist, holding the weapon just above his face. With a scream of desperation, I slammed my forehead into the pommel of my dagger. The momentum carried through the weapon, biting into the beastkin''s face. I repeated the motion again and again until the hand around my wrist slackened and fell away.

    The beastkin¡¯s bloody, ruined face stared up at me, long canines bared in a rigid smile.

    My stomach lurched.

    There, I was a weapon. Why didn¡¯t I feel any better?

    A strong hand grasped my shoulder. I turned, dagger raised, as my eyes met Dugan¡¯s measured stare. Whatever magic he used was wearing off¡ªthe bark peeling off his face and leather armour. He patted my shoulder and walked back to camp, Thor waddling up to his side.

    A moment later, Isla approached.

    "Was that all of them?" I asked, panting between words.

    "Thor seems to think so. Can you walk?"

    "Yeah."

    A different kind of exhaustion washed over me when I got to my feet. I had been warned about the sudden drop after an adrenaline rush. My mind was unfocused, and my limbs were heavy as we walked back to camp, bloodier and wearier than when we left.

    As Dugan dragged away the dead bodies, I walked to my tent.

    Finally, some sleep.

    ¡°Wait¡­¡± Isla said.

    She looked around, her eyes wide with worry.

    "Where¡¯s Castille?"

 The Cursed Lands Part 10

    Dugan dropped the body he was dragging and whipped his head around. His eyes met mine. For the first time, they were not calm. After tense moments, his shoulders sagged, and composure returned to his face. Thor waddled over to him. Dugan rested his hand on the animal¡¯s forehead. When he released the boar, Thor trotted off to the opposite side of the camp, sniffing the air. Dugan walked behind him. Isla and I followed.

    It wasn''t long before we saw bodies of beastkin littering the woods. They had tried to ambush Castille and it ended poorly.

    Thor continued deeper into the woods. We followed, our hope and fear balanced on a knife''s edge. From the looks of things, Castille had performed a fighting retreat, giving up ground to avoid being surrounded while punishing the beastkin that trailed after her. According to Gren, this tactic would not work against disciplined enemies. Luckily, beastkin were not disciplined.

    As I stepped over a severed arm, Thor grunted louder. A worn breastplate reflected moonlight in the distance. Castille¡¯s body sat slumped against a tree, four beastkin at her feet. Dugan charged forward in a full sprint, followed by Isla and Thor.

    I hung back.

    Another friend dead.

    I¡¯m I cursed?

    How many people would I lose?

    My slow walk to her body helped me see the truth; Castille had saved our lives. There were two groups of beastkin raiders. Without her drawing away this second group, we would have been attacked from behind while we fought in the woods.

    I counted them as I walked closer; anything to keep my mind off what was waiting for me ahead.

    Five.

    Eight.

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    Twelve.

    Twelve beastkin, including the ones around her.

    Castille¡¯s right eye was swollen shut. Her face and arms were covered in cuts and bruises. As I walked up beside Isla, my eyes were drawn to two things: the gushing spear wound below her breastplate and the sword clenched in her hand, even in death.

    Dugan was at her side, pressing his thick fingers against her neck to check for a pulse. He inhaled, turning toward us with wide, awe-struck eyes.

    She¡¯s still alive!

    Isla threw down her staff as she rushed to Castille''s other side.

    "I¡¯m not great at healing, but I can try. Dugan, together?"

    He nodded.

    They each put a hand on Castille''s head, closing their eyes to concentrate. The minor cuts on Castille''s arms closed, the swelling around her right eye reduced, but the spear wound below her gut was still bleeding. It wasn¡¯t enough.

    I needed to do something, but what? I was no healer. I was, as Sin made me, a weapon. I twisted out my dagger, holding it in both hands.

    No.

    A weapon is just a tool, and a tool has utility.

    I raised the dagger in my left hand and unleashed my will.

    Please let this work.

    My hands burned. The smell of ash filled my nostrils. I was in Jacob¡¯s bedroom again, taking my last shuddering breaths.

    No.

    Those were not my memories. I¡¯m in the woods right now. In front of someone, I can save.

    My dagger glowed a bright red, a beacon in the dark. I pressed the flat of the blade against Castille''s spear wound, cauterizing it to stop the bleeding.

    Castille''s eyes snapped open as she screamed at the searing pain. I pulled my dagger back. Dugan and Isla stopped to look down at the wounded warrior.

    She looked around like a wild animal before settling her eyes on me, Isla, and Dugan. As she did, the tension left her shoulders, and she let her head fall back against the tree.

    "That''s the last time I go for a walk."

    Isla wrapped her arms around Castille, crying into the crook of her neck as the older woman patted her back with a free hand. Castille''s eyes shifted to me and the red-hot dagger in my hand.

    "Nice trick. Does that mean you won''t burn down our next camp?"

    "If I figure out how to turn it off."

    She smirked and then coughed up blood.

    Dugan wiped the blood from her lips and rested his hand on the top of her head, continuing the healing. Their eyes met, and another silent conversation passed between them.

    I laughed to myself as I collapsed on the forest floor. Between last night, the ambush and my new trick, I¡¯d used too much will. I didn¡¯t mind. Castille was alive.

    I scratched Thor¡¯s head as he waddled over to me.

    Raising my dagger high, I turned it over in my hand as it cooled.

    Maybe there was more to being a weapon.

 The Cursed Lands Part 11

    We slept around Castille that night. Dugan burned through most of his will, getting her to a stable condition. I fell asleep in the underbrush, and Isla didn¡¯t want to be alone. In the morning, we limped back to camp. With Dugan and Castille bedridden, Isla and I cleared the campsite of the dead. She was mostly fine, her attempt at healing leaving her more tired than usual. I didn¡¯t question how she used two different types of Landbound magic, but our conversation about bowl sizes crossed my mind.

    The next day, we decided to stop healing Castille. We were vulnerable to ambushes in camp and on the road. Tiring out our mages with healing that could be done naturally only left us more exposed. So, while Castille healed, Dugan and Isla fortified the camp, and I patrolled.

    I was happy for the time alone. I needed time to think and train.

    ¡°What is a weapon?¡±

    I wondered the question aloud as I weaved between the trees, moving through the underbrush without a sound as I hunted rabbits for our evening stew.

    ¡°A master of utility, misdirection and ruthlessness,¡± I whispered, wiping my dagger on my fourth kill of the day.

    And that was the problem. I didn¡¯t know if my definition of ruthlessness was correct. Sin wasn¡¯t around to tell me. If I was ruthless, should I have let Castille die instead of saving her? No, she was useful¡­ and saving her felt good.

    I frowned. Feeling good made me suspicious. It was too much like being weak.

    I sighed.

    Sin¡­ why did you leave?

    When I wasn¡¯t stalking through the forest, I was practicing Landbound magic. Isla shared the exercises from her early mage training. The exercises taught focus, one of the three factors that affected will. Maintaining focus did not increase your will but allowed you to use it more efficiently. The exercises were eerily similar to the training Sin drilled into me from an early age.

    All this time, she had been training me in the fundamentals of magic, preparing me to be a weapon. For what purpose? For who? I had been so blinded by my own goals that I never thought to ask her.

    After a few days of Isla¡¯s training, I figured out how to create fire, conjuring tongues of flame that hovered just above my hands. That didn¡¯t stop the pain. Each time I drew on the spirits of the land, my hands burned with the phantom pain of Cythnia¡¯s last memory. I would have to accept it for now. The only way to fix it was to fix my home, which wouldn¡¯t happen until after we completed the quest. Would Rugar still be hunting me by then?

    After a week, Castille recovered enough to ride. We kept to the main roads, taking the Northwestern trail that would lead us into the Dellends. Despite our run-in with the beastkin raiders, morale was high. No, our morale was high because of it. By working together, we survived an ambushing force that outnumbered us four to one with no casualties. Gren wouldn¡¯t believe me if I told him the story.

    My lips twisted into a pained smile from the back of Dugan¡¯s horse. We were a proper pack now, hunters, not the hunted. Ahead of us, Castille and Isla rode side by side. The rift between them was mended; saving each other''s lives tended to have that effect. The two made polite small talk, never digging too deep into each other''s past.

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    At least they made small talk. In front of me, Dugan was as silent as ever. You didn¡¯t need to talk when a glance carried more weight than the average conversation. The only sound from our end was the occasional grunt from Thor, who trailed at our side. The pair was as much a mystery as the women riding in front. Their connection was magical. How else could he sense the boar''s location and launch that reverse ambush in the woods? Not to mention Thor tracking Castille and their matching bark armour. It must have something to do with Dugan''s Landbound magic, the magic of farms and livestock.

    After weeks of travel, we finally reached the border of the Dellends. There were no physical markers or signs for the area, only the curse''s effects. The forest along the road withered, the trees becoming gnarled and ashen grey. The grass mottled to a sickly yellow, springing up in clumps between large tracts of grey-brown earth in the land ahead.

    "How does anyone survive here?" I asked.

    "One step at a time," Isla said, her voice quieter than usual.

    "C''mon! There''s no use standing around half-sheathed," Castille said, urging her horse forward. Her mare didn''t move; even the horse was spooked.

    She tried again, and the animal took hesitant steps forward. I could sympathize. Something was wrong in the air: a sickly-sweet smell you could taste. Dugan rode forward next, followed by Thor. Isla waited another moment, gripping her staff until her knuckles turned white. With a deep exhale, she advanced, riding next to Dugan and me for the first time in weeks.

    "Don''t chicken out on me now," I said, flashing her a reassuring smile.

    She returned a faint smile, her eyes lingering on the contaminated ground. I knew that expression well. Like a poison, I had learned to tolerate Isla, building up a resistance to the disturbing emotions she triggered in me. Through gritted teeth, I could even say I enjoyed being around her.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± I asked.

    ¡°What did you say all those weeks ago? It''s different when you feel it. Something terrible is happening in this land.¡±

    Ominous.

    ¡°And we¡¯re here to stop it.¡±

    ¡°How can you be so confident?¡±

    I¡¯ve already lost everything.

    ¡°The stupidity of youth,¡± I lied.

    She smiled again, wider this time.

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m only a few years older than you.¡±

    My smile turned brittle.

    Like Cynthia.

    ¡°Then I bow to your intellect.¡±

    I swept my hand in a mock bow.

    She giggled.

    ¡°You always know the right thing to say to make me feel better.¡±

    She sat straighter in her saddle and galloped forward to ride with Castille.

    Dugan glanced at me over his shoulder.

    I shrugged.

    ¡°I have a gift.¡±

    I put Isla out of my mind and focused on our surroundings.

    The Dellends were somehow worse than I expected. I expected the desolate wasteland, the forests of dead, leafless trees. I didn¡¯t expect the silence. There were no bird calls, croaking toads or even buzzing flies. Decades of lead and arsenic poisoning in the land killed off the wildlife or forced them to leave for greener pastures. Occasionally, we passed patches of rust-coloured ground, copper ore that turned the surrounding pools of water deep green.

    Along the road, an old farming village was arranged like a corpse that had been picked clean, its straw-thatched roofs bleached bone white by the sun. Our mood darkened as we entered the village. We rode past ransacked buildings with broken doors and clay walls that collapsed inward. Like the rest of the Dellends, the village was deathly quiet. The people had left, become miners, or haunted the land beneath our feet.

    Castille raised her hand, signalling us to stop. I strained my ears for any sounds.

    Knock.

    Knock.

    Knock.

    The sound of wood on wood echoed in the distance. It was too rhythmic; someone or something was making it. I dismounted and walked up to Castille¡¯s horse.

    "You heard it too?" She asked.

    "Yeah, should I scout?"

    She nodded.

    ¡°Be careful.¡±

    I was off the second she nodded, sneaking on foot while the rest of the party trailed several minutes behind.

    Knock.

    Knock.

    Knock.

    I moved toward the noise, checking the abandoned windows and collapsed walls for signs of life.

    Knock.

    Knock.

    Knock.

    The sound led us to the centre of the village, where I saw something I would never forget.

 The Cursed Lands Part 12

    The old woman was barefoot and gaunt, with sallow white skin and wisps of grey hair on her balding head. She wore a dress of overlapping wooden shingles salvaged from the roof of a well-off family¡¯s home.

    And, for some reason, she was trying to beat down a door.

    She muttered barely audible curses as she raised her wooden club and slammed it against the thick, black door.

    The building she was trying to break into reminded me of a Sanctifier guildhall. Its walls were made of the same grey stone, untouched compared to the rest of the village''s broken white clay buildings.

    I raised my hand, signalling the party to stop as I peeked around the corner.

    Castille dismounted, walking up behind me with surprising stealth.

    "What is it?" She asked.

    "You need to see this,¡± I said, waving her over to my position.

    Castille peeked around the corner, observing the mad woman for a few moments before she spoke.

    "Let me handle this."

    Before I could stop her, she stepped from behind the building and walked across the street to the old woman.

    "Hello, what are you doing?" Castille asked.

    The old woman beat on the door two more times before she stopped and turned to look at Castille.

    "What does it look like I''m doing? Trying to get inside!" The woman said.

    "Why?"

    "Supplies. Salvage."

    She waved her club in a circle over her head.

    "I already ransacked every other house in this village."

    ¡°You did all this?"

    Castille swept her hand over the ruined village.

    "Spirits, no, but I pitch in where I can."

    Castille put her hands on her hips.

    "My friends and I have goods to trade for information. What do you say?"

    The old woman scratched at her chin hair.

    "Friends? Like that elf around the corner? Some strange company you keep."

    I pulled my head back behind the wall. How did she see me, let alone peg me as an elf from so far away?

    "Aye, him and two more of my friends further back... You''re one to call anyone strange,¡± Castille said.

    "Hah! It''s been too long since I had someone to trade insults with. My husband¡¯s ashes were scattered to the wind more than two decades ago. Every other idiot in the village left the Dellends or went further north to Steeltown. Fools, the whole lot of them."

    The woman spat at the mention of Steeltown.

    "Come along¡­ and bring your friends; I have tea and biscuits at my house."

    I peeked around the corner.

    Castille looked at me and nodded before walking away.

    I got the message.

    # # #

    Dugan, Thor, Isla, and I caught up to the pair of women at the largest house in the village. The wall had collapsed around the front door, leaving a gaping entrance we could all walk through side by side. I hopped over the uneven rubble, finding the pair sitting at a round table. A fancy porcelain tea set was laid out on its wood surface, with the teapot full of water that smelled like it came from a chamber pot.

    Castille kept a straight face as she watched the old woman take sips of the cloudy, yellow fluid. Castille''s cup and a plate of moldy biscuits on the table were left untouched.

    "Contaminated water," Isla whispered to me. "If she''s been drinking water like that for years, no wonder she¡¯s a little off."

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    "A little?!" I said.

    All eyes turned to me.

    Was I too loud?

    The old woman stared at me, looking me up and down like she was licking me with her eyes.

    ¡°Pretty thing, ain''t you, elf. Oh, and look at that piece beside you. The Steeltowners would love to get their hands on you," the old woman said.

    Isla tensed beside me, her hands tightening around her staff.

    "Please, Mother Geslin, you''re scaring the children," Castille said.

    Mother Geslin eyed Castille with a quirked eyebrow.

    "I haven''t met a child that doesn''t need a good scare."

    Castille sighed, picking up her cup of tea and dashing the foul liquid over her shoulder.

    ¡°Isla!¡±

    The young mage nodded, pointing at the Castille¡¯s cup and filling it with clean water.

    "Do I have your attention?" Castille asked.

    Mother Geslin''s eyes went as wide as saucer plates as she looked from the cup to Isla.

    "Yes, I believe you do."

    "Good. We need information. In return, we''ll give you as much clean drinking water as you can carry. Deal?"

    Mother Geslin stared at Isla with newfound reverence and nodded.

    "First, what happened here?"

    "The same thing that happened everywhere: the curse. We were on the outskirts of the Del, so we felt it last. It works slow. One day, you feel a bit tired. Next thing you know, babies are born wrong. Crops start spoiling. People get angry, violent, and more stupid than usual.¡±

    ¡°Is that why the buildings are broken?¡±

    ¡°Yeah! When the food shortages happened, people rioted."

    She snorted.

    "Like taking it out on the buildings would change anything. This used to be the headman''s house, but he¡¯s dead now, him and the rest of his family."

    "And everyone left or went to this Steeltown, but you stayed here. Why?"

    "Why?! Because I''m too weak to work the mines and too pretty to sell my body. Besides¡­¡±

    She crossed her arms.

    ¡°This is my home."

    That made my chest hurt. Whether it was a toxic farming village or a burned-out mansion, home was home.

    Dugan walked up to the table, sliding off the moldy biscuits on the plate and laying out rations from Thor''s saddlebags.

    Mother Geslin licked her lips.

    "And what¡¯s home called?" Castille asked.

    Mother Geslin frowned.

    "South Run. No¡­¡±

    She rubbed her temples.

    ¡°Southsun."

    Castille nodded, taking a moment to sip from her cup. She scrunched up her face, the bottom of the cup still had residue from the foul water.

    "What can you tell me about Steeltown?"

    "Hrmph. It should be called Stealtown."

    Mother Geslin reached for a piece of hardtack from the laid-out rations.

    "In the old days, Steeltown was the place where they made steel from the iron mines under Brimspoke Mountains. Nowadays, steel is old news. It''s all about gold. They say the mountains are filled with the stuff and every other kind of ore you can dream of. It¡¯s terrible work, disturbing the spirits of the land like that¡ªattracts all kinds of unsavoury types.¡±

    Castille bit into her piece of hardtack.

    ¡°You''re well informed for a woman in the middle of nowhere.¡±

    ¡°Caravans sometimes come this way. They trade supplies for good salvage.¡±

    Castille nodded.

    "Do they bring word of any big players in Steeltown?"

    Mother Geslin frowned in concentration.

    "They whisper about a few names: Lagos, Harwick and Kateen. The Lagos brothers are smugglers from Dahlgesh who smuggled themselves into Luskaine. Tiny Tom Harwick is a giant of a man. People say he can crush stones and skulls with his bare hands. And then there¡¯s that Lady Kateen. She has deep connections with the merchants."

    "And the nobles?" Castille asked.

    "About as weak as a stream of piss. This land has belonged to the Vangraves for as long as I can remember. The current head of the family is a boy who never leaves his manor house. Smart kid. No one has respect for nobles that can''t be mages."

    Castille nodded before turning to the rest of the party.

    "Do any of you have questions?"

    Dugan shook his head.

    I stopped to think. Castille had made the right move, gathering information before we reached Steeltown. Now I knew how dangerous this mission was.

    Each player in the Dellends was benefitting from the curse. The lawlessness of the area allowed two Dahlgeshi, enemies of Luskaine, to operate in the open. The toxic environment allowed Lady Kateen to sell food, water and other essentials at whatever price she wanted. I didn''t know what to make of this Tiny Tom, but he sounded like trouble.

    Our only ally was a noble who was too weak to govern their lands. The Vangraves had to be the ones keeping the job request active. Becoming mages was the only way of evening the odds against the town¡¯s other factions. If we wanted to break the curse, these factions would try to stop us. That was the angle that I didn''t see back at the capital. For our quest to succeed, it had to be kept secret.

    I had questions that could only be answered by going to Steeltown and seeing the place myself. I shook my head.

    After a moment, Isla spoke barely above a whisper.

    "I may have more questions for her later."

    Mother Geslin¡¯s stare lingered on Isla as she spoke to Castille.

    "Word of warning. Make sure no one sees that one use magic. If they figure out she''s a mage, they¡¯ll kidnap her¡­ and worse."

    Isla''s face turned a sickly green as she retightened her grip around her quarterstaff.

    The act of kidnapping nobles and making them bear illegitimate children was highly illegal in Luskaine. It was a direct threat to the ruling class as these children, known as foulborn, diluted a noble family¡¯s magical potential by adding more members to their bloodline. In a place as lawless as the Dellends, it made sense that this type of crime was more common.

    While Mother Geslin stared at Isla, Castille and Dugan looked at me.

    They didn¡¯t need to tell me; I already knew. Mrs. Dulldrey gave me the talk when I became ¡°Lady¡± Sin¡¯s heir. The ideal targets to kidnap were young men. A male victim could create multiple foulborn in a short time and, more importantly, didn''t need to be around for their births. Disposing of the male victim immediately was less risky than keeping a powerful mage captive for nine months. It also balanced out the number of family members in a bloodline.

    From now on, Dugan, Isla and I could not be seen using Landbound magic. This quest was getting harder by the second.

    Castille took one last sweeping glance over her party''s mages. If she was concerned, it didn''t show in her grey eyes.

    "We look after our own, and I expect you not to share this information."

    "Of course, do I look like a rat?"

    Castille didn¡¯t answer. Mother Geslin gave her a bitter smile.

    "Oh, I like you. You can stay here for tonight. It''s big enough, and there are stables at the side of the house."

    Castille gave her a slight smile.

    "Very generous of you. We accept."

 The Cursed Lands Part 13

    With our meeting with Mother Geslin complete, we got to work. Castille and Dugan took care of the horses, laying out food for them, the party and Mother Geslin. We decided that Isla''s staff made her look too much like a mage. With some reluctance on her end, she packed it away in Thor''s saddlebags. Castille gave Isla her old sword belt and a spare dagger. Combined with her navy cloak, she fit the image of a rogue I pegged her for when we first met. As repayment for her magic lessons, I spent most of the afternoon walking her through the drills that were a part of my early training. With her focused mind, she took to the training quickly. She would be ready to spare if she kept practicing for a few weeks.

    Our dinner was livelier than usual, with Mother Geslin as a guest. While the old woman had her quirks, she was a natural storyteller who entertained us with tales from her childhood. Back in the old days, Southsun was a thriving community that barely felt the curse''s effects. Her stories taught us that the curse originated in the Brimspoke Mountains and slowly crept across the Dellends. For generations, the villagers of Southsun thought they were too far away to be affected. It was Mother Geslin''s generation that saw their crops fail, their livestock die, and their children be born with defects.

    Before the stories spoiled our dinner, Castille made us pack up early. After weeks of camping on the road, I couldn¡¯t wait to sleep in a soft bed. We split off into our usual pairs, finding rooms on the house''s second floor. By this point, it was normal for Isla and me to sleep beside each other, my feelings of disgust retreating to the back of my mind.

    There was still an invisible line of propriety between us; Mrs. Dulldrey raised a gentleman. As I lay over the sheets with my hands behind my head, I turned to Isla. She was asleep, bundled under the bed¡¯s covers. Between the dagger drills and filling up every container Mother Geslin could find with water, she had burned through a lot of will.

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    Good for her. I couldn¡¯t sleep. There was a door-shaped thorn sticking in my mind. In a village of broken doors and walls, that Sanctifier building was unscathed. What treasures did it contain? What secrets? Checking again that Isla was asleep, I slipped out of bed and changed into my clothes.

    Sneaking out of the house was easy; Dugan and Castille seemed to enjoy their bed far more than me and Isla. I walked by Mother Geslin, who lay comatose on the first floor, full from her first proper meal in years. As I crept through the enlarged entrance, I conjured a ball of fire to light my way. The ball hovered just above my right hand as I navigated through the village to the Sanctifier building in the middle of town.

    In the moonlight, the grey brick building was ominous, its thick, black door a portal to another plane. Holding my flame close to the door, I pulled my lockpick from the base of my top knot.

    Cindra¡­ Where are you right now? Are you safe?

    A dumb question. She was more of a survivor than I could ever be. I slipped the lockpick into the keyhole. A proper lockpicking set would consist of at least one lockpick and a tension wrench. Cindra had taught me how to open locks with a single lockpick and, in return, I taught her Sin¡¯s first two lessons. She was the only one who knew the truth. The only one I could open up to about my time in the Red Room. She was someone broken.

    Just. Click. Like. Click. Me. Click.

    With one last satisfying click, the door unlocked.

    I pulled it open, unsure what awaited me on the other side.

    Traps? Treasure? Mummified bodies?

    It turns out the truth was stranger and more dangerous than I could ever imagine.

 The Cursed Lands Part 14

    As the door creaked open, I waited for a reaction: a shuffle of feet on the floor, a string being drawn tight, or gears spinning into motion. I was rewarded with silence. I knelt, running my lit hand just above the entrance floor¡ªno trip wire. I inhaled and took my first few steps through the door.

    The interior of the building looked like a small office for dispatching mail, with dark wood furnishings that looked durable and expensive. The floor was scattered with loose paper, mostly blank with shredded notes written in faded ink. Empty bookshelves stood against the stone walls. Someone had packed and left in a hurry. If I had to guess, they left during the riots that Mother Geslin described. I found more evidence at the main desk on the other side of the room.

    Just off to the desk¡¯s side was a brazier overflowing with ashes and pieces of burned paper. I twisted the dagger from my cane and poked through the remnants. The brazier had been stuffed full, with the paper at the top of the pile singed black instead of incinerated. I made out fragments of High Elvish on the burned surface, another layer of security in case anyone among this group of farmers could read Low Elvish. This building was some kind of communication centre, trading in messages important enough to be written in High Elvish. If only I could find one of those messages intact.

    As I walked around the brazier, my foot brushed against something. I bent down to investigate and found a plain brown book under the desk; it was open, its spine facing up. I read the High Elvish title.

    ¡°Announcements and Declarations: Volume 31.¡±

    I sheathed my dagger and reached out for it. When I touched it, I felt the sensation of something hungry, a vessel waiting to be filled. I knew this feeling. It was just like my dagger.

    This book was enchanted.

    I lifted the book onto the desk with my free hand. On closer inspection, it was more like a tome, easily over a thousand pages long. The lack of decoration was also suspicious. Why would an enchanted book written in High Elvish look so ordinary? I flipped open the cover just as I considered the possibility of magical traps. Instead of a fireball to the face, I was met with a page of short messages.

    The messages were also in High Elvish, beginning with a date and then two or more lines of text. As I flipped through the pages, the pattern became clear. The messages were like the public announcements a town crier would make in a city square, except these messages were specifically for Sanctifiers. Each message was chronological, starting as far back as seven years ago and getting closer to the present. I skipped to the book''s last pages, and my eyes widened.

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    There were announcements from this year, this month, this week.

    This book had been locked in this building for years. How was this possible? Of course, that was the book''s enchantment¡ªthe same kind of enchantment that let me call my dagger to my hand, the same magic that let me check in on Elmer while he slept in the capital.

    This book was linked to another book in a different location. Messages in that book were copied to this one through that magical bond.

    I sat in the desk''s chair, lighting one of the half-melted candles on the desktop to rub my temples with both hands. It was a lot to take in. Not only did long-range communication exist, but the Sanctifiers had kept this innovation for themselves. Worst of all, they used spoken High Elvish to do it. It was the only way to enchant objects.

    It made no sense.

    No¡­ it made perfect sense.

    The Sanctifiers forbade spoken High Elvish to prevent the general population from picking up the language by ear. This left only one way to learn High Elvish: by becoming a Sanctifier or being taught by one. The Sanctifier Guild was gatekeeping High Elvish and enchantment for themselves and their allies. The only other group that still spoke High Elvish in Luskaine was¡­ the elves of the Great Northwestern Forest.

    A chill ran up my spine.

    Is that why Alden Able wanted me to become an indentured servant to the Sanctifiers?

    A half-elf could easily slip into their community and do serious damage.

    I leaned back into the wooden chair and sighed. It was strange that the leader of the capital¡¯s Guildhall would deal with me directly. Now I knew why I¡¯d been given such ¡°special¡± treatment. Part of me wished I had never opened this door, but another part, the practical part, was glad. I had spent too much of my life being a pawn in plans I was too ignorant to see. I was not that na?ve orphan anymore. Not for Sin. Not for Alden.

    I glanced at the open book on the desk. I needed more information, any information that could give me an edge over the Sanctifiers. I hunched over the book and read the latest pages by candlelight.

    I paused at the mention of Rugar in the book. Our fight with Rugar''s men last month made news among the Sanctifiers. I paused again at an unfamiliar High Elvish word. This was a new word created by humans after the fall of the Old Elvish Empire. Its equivalent in Low Elvish would be¡­

    Inquisitor.

    My mouth went dry.

    The Sanctifiers had dispatched a special inquisitor to investigate the attack on Rugar''s men. Apparently, he was a large donor to their organization. The inquisitor would also investigate the eyewitness accounts of powerful Landbound magic at Miller''s Hill.

    Not good¡­ No. Bad. Very bad.

    Inquisitors were the enforcers of the Sanctifier Guild. With the backing of the most powerful organization in the Abyssal Lands, they were untouchable. And now one of them was on our tail. No, they could be ahead of us with the time we took to let Castille heal. The inquisitor could have asked the regulars at the Gentleman¡¯s Rest where we were going. It wasn¡¯t a secret.

    I shot up from the chair and scooped the book under my arm. If the inquisitor arrived in Steeltown, they could blow our whole mission. Worse, they could reveal that we were mages. The others needed to know. We needed to leave the Dellends. I sprinted out of the Sanctifier building.

    This quest was doomed to fail from the start.

 The Cursed Lands Part 15

    As I walked through the opening of the house, a voice in the dark made me spin on the balls of my feet. I materialized the dagger into my hand.

    ''Well, aren¡¯t you in a hurry?"

    Mother Geslin sat at the table where she talked to Castille. She sucked from a newly lit pipe in her mouth, eying the book under my arm.

    "What''s happening? Bandits?"

    "No. I -"

    "Damn, I could''ve used the company."

    She blew out a ring of smoke as I turned to leave.

    "Sorry, I have to wake everyone up."

    ¡°Whatcha gotta tell them that can''t wait six hours? Let them rest. You need some rest, too. Skulking out the house at all hours of the night."

    I paused. She noticed me leaving the house. There was more to this woman than her appearances let on.

    I sighed.

    Of course, there was. This was misdirection. She was hiding in plain sight. What did she want? More importantly, would I have to kill her?

    "You''re right," I said.

    "Of course I am. Sit."

    I narrowed my eyes. She wanted me in striking distance.

    I took slow steps to the table, my dagger tight in my hand.

    Mother Geslin sighed.

    "It''s going to be so quiet when you all leave. Even that bearded one knows how to shake a bed. I swear if I was thirty years younger¡­"

    I frowned. Her kind of ¡°humour¡± would make Gren blush.

    Mother Geslin let out a dry cackle.

    "No one ever tell you bout the birds and the bees. I can teach, ya. Never had the chance to teach anyone, so I could use the practice."

    "I find that hard to believe, Mother Geslin."

    "Yes, Mother Geslin. That''s what the village called me behind my back. I had seven children; none of them lived longer than a day. It was a record."

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    I sat at the table, the emotion draining from my face.

    A weapon is not sentimental.

    "I''m sorry."

    She flashed a set of yellow teeth, the base of her gums discoloured to a blueish black.

    "Why? They''re always with me. I feel them right now."

    My face paled as I realized why she walked barefoot around the village.

    Her smile twisted into a sneer as she caught my expression.

    "You''re just like the rest of the village. You think I''ve gone mad, but you feel it too, right?"

    "Feel what?"

    "The pain of the dearly departed."

    My skin prickled at her words as a burning sensation flowed through my hands.

    Mother Geslin took a few puffs on her pipe as she leaned back into her chair.

    "See."

    You old hag¡­

    "Are you Landbound to this village?"

    "Are those words supposed to mean something to me? No, It''s just common sense. I can feel them scratching below the surface."

    I frowned. She smiled.

    "You''re looking at me like I''m crazy again."

    You¡¯re not fooling me.

    "You¡¯re convincing," I lied.

    "Aren''t I? It''s too bad we can''t give ourselves names. I would''ve called myself Clever Geslin."

    "I don¡¯t think that name fits."

    "Really now? Well, I know why you''re here and what you''re trying to do. That clever enough for ya?"

    I opened my mouth to speak.

    "Hush," Mother Geslin said. "I don''t know why you''re doing what you''re doing, and I don''t care. I just wanted to say¡­ thank you."

    I blinked in surprise.

    "Thank you?"

    "Yes. For trying. It makes you better than most people."

    I squirmed in my chair.

    Clever Geslin. How could I chicken out and abandon the quest now?

    "How did you know?"

    "What? That you lot came here to break the curse or that you were a hair''s breadth away from running?"

    She smiled again; the pipe clenched tight in between her teeth.

    "For one, your party has two, maybe three, mages, yet you didn''t know you had to hide your abilities. You and your friends are coming into the Del blind. I''ve seen it before. Puffed up adventurers with more bravery than sense sniffing after reward money."

    She paused, taking a long draw from her pipe and letting the smoke blow out her nose.

    "For the other thing, well, I saw the look on your face."

    I sighed.

    She read me like a book.

    "What do you want from me?"

    ¡°Two things: I want some company-"

    "What, the spirits aren''t enough for you?"

    She screwed up her face in mild disgust.

    "The dead make for poor conversation. Like I was saying, I want some company, and I want you to keep trying."

    "You don''t understand. There are people after us-"

    "So what? I think you can take them. Do you know what I see when I look at you?"

    I quirked an eyebrow.

    This should be interesting.

    "What do you see?"

    "Big damn heroes. I get the feeling you lot are our last chance to break this curse before something terrible happens, and my feelings are never wrong."

    "What if I''m not a hero?"

    "The best kind of hero doesn¡¯t think they are."

    Me. A hero? The idea was right out of one of Mr. Reeves¡¯ books. For ten years, I was trained to be a weapon, to become a tool that cut and carved, but the real world had changed that. I had used a dagger to heal, to save a life instead of taking one. What else could I do with power and purpose?

    Across the table, Mother Geslin''s eyes became glossy with tears. The sudden softness on the woman''s face was disturbing.

    Sometimes, it takes someone else believing in you to make you believe in yourself. If Mother Geslin looked at me and saw a hero, maybe that''s what I was.

    "OK, I''ll stay and do my best to convince the others."

    "Thank you."

    Her voice was strained.

    I sheathed my dagger and left the room, leaving the old woman to cry alone in the dark.

 The Cursed Lands Part 16

    The next day, I met the party around the breakfast table and broke the news about the Sanctifiers. Dugan took the news like he took everything in a calm silence as he shovelled down his porridge.

    Isla was more shocked by the Sanctifiers'' making enchanted items than by the inquisitor. That fact was hidden, even from the nobility. The book in my hands was a valuable bargaining chip, a piece of evidence that ruined the Sanctifiers'' reputation while also allowing us to listen in on their private communications.

    Castille''s reaction to the news was the strangest of the three. She tried to match Dugan''s calm demeanour, but there was tension in her shoulders and face. She knew how dangerous our situation was, yet she wanted to continue anyway.

    To my surprise, so did the others. Why? There were less risky ways to make money. I needed to know.

    "I don''t get it. Castille, why do you want this so much? Why do any of you?"

    Isla shifted in her seat, unable to meet my eyes.

    Dugan stared at me but said nothing.

    "If you must know, it''s for my younger brother," Castille said.

    She leaned forward with her elbow on the table, her hand cupping the side of her face.

    "Every year, the King calls on his lords to tithe resources and men for the war against Dahlgesh. A lord short on resources or men can provide a surplus of the other. The North is poor in resources, so we provide a surplus of men."

    She chuckled to herself.

    "So many of us are at war that we don''t have the manpower to develop our resources. My grandfather served, my father served, and I¡­ tried to serve."

    "You¡¯re a deserter?" Isla whispered.

    Castille gave Isla a dismissive glance before turning back to me.

    "You throw around that word too lightly. I served in good faith for two years, but the war I was fighting was not my war. It was for the nobles. Aye, I deserted. I went back home to be with my family because dying with them was better than being another nameless soldier in no man¡¯s land. When I was discovered, I threw myself at my Lord''s mercy and then Andric, scrawny, brave Andric, offered to do triple my term of service in return for my life."

    Isla looked down at the table.

    "A triple term? How long is that?" I asked.

    "Twelve years on the bloodiest battlefield in the Abyssal Lands. That was six years ago."

    I raised my eyebrows.

    "Do you even know if he''s alive?"

    She looked at me, a slight smile playing on her lips, a softness in her eyes that startled me.

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    "I don''t. My life was spared, but I was banished from my home, from my family. That''s when I became an adventurer and met Dugan. Years ago, I learned about this quest and knew it was the one way to save my brother.¡±

    If he¡¯s still alive.

    "How will this quest save your brother?"

    "It''s the loophole," Isla whispered.

    Castille nodded.

    "Aye. Nobles and the family of nobles are exempt from the tithe. Some excuse about protecting their lands from beastkin raids."

    "But many voluntarily serve in the war like the Southern nobles whose lands are directly threatened with Dahlgeshi invasion," Isla said.

    "Or those who seek glory for their house and the King''s favour. In the end, the nobles are the players, and we commoners are pawns in their games," Castille said.

    "So, you want the King to make you a minor noble to free your brother from his military service."

    Castille gave him a grim smile.

    ¡°Aye.¡±

    "Are you really willing to become one of us, Castille? Something you despise?" Isla asked.

    She crossed her arms.

    "For my family? Of course."

    Since when was becoming a noble some kind of sacrifice?

    "Last question. If you have known about this quest for years, why are you doing it now?"

    "Because I wasn''t ready before. I''m ready now."

    She straightened in her chair, meeting my gaze with the confidence I¡¯d come to expect from Castille.

    I nodded.

    ¡°And you, Isla?¡±

    "Um¡­ I''m also doing this quest to keep a family member safe," Isla said. "I''m sorry, I can''t say anything more."

    She looked to Castille, who gave her an approving nod.

    How close had those two become over the past weeks?

    "What about Dugan?"

    Dugan quirked his eyebrows at the mention of his name and shrugged.

    "He''s with me," Castille said, reaching across the table to grab his forearm. Her tone said that there would be no more questioning. I nodded, leaning back into my chair.

    ''What now?" Isla asked.

    "We¡¯re a two-day ride from Steeltown on horseback. One and a half if we push the horses, which I think we should do," Castille said.

    "You think we might get attacked on the road?" I asked.

    "No, but I don''t want to enter Steeltown at night. The place is full of criminals."

    "Riding into town in the middle of the day will draw attention," I said.

    "True enough, but we don''t know the lay of the land. If we had contacts in Steeltown, I would feel better about sneaking in after dark."

    As if on cue, Mother Geslin shuffled into the room holding two plates in her hands and balancing two more in the crooks of her elbows. She placed the fine porcelain plates on the table, presenting us with slices of fresh bread and venison jerky from our supplies.

    I picked up a piece of bread and ignored the bite taken out of its corner.

    "Geslin, do you know anyone in Steeltown?" I asked.

    "Well, let''s see. There was Patrick Finney, Leslie McClain, Arwen-"

    "Wait, was?"

    "Yeah, people from this village who went to Steeltown. They''re probably dead now."

    I sighed.

    "Is Steeltown even the right place to go? We don''t even know if our target is still in the Dellends."

    "It''s our best lead," Isla said.

    She gestured to Geslin, who had taken a seat with her own plate of food.

    "If Mother Geslin is right, the curse started at the mountains outside of Steeltown."

    "And they''re just going to let us walk up to these mountains?" I asked.

    "No, we''ll need a cover story," Castille said.

    "You could be merchants," Mother Geslin said. "The elf looks the part. The rest of you could be his bodyguards: two muscly types and the little lady as a cutthroat."

    Isla blanched at her description. Castille nodded her head. Dugan was Dugan.

    "And what would I sell?" I asked.

    Mother Geslin tore off a piece of jerky with her teeth.

    "What everyone''s buying: food, water and anything that isn''t nailed to the ground. The boar is a good gimmick, too. It''s memorable and explains why you don''t have a wagon full of goods."

    She definitely should be called Clever Geslin. That cover would work. Looking at my party members, I saw the same glimmer of agreement.

    "That sounds like a plan."

    An hour later, we were packed up and ready for the road. We left extra food rations for Mother Geslin, who waved to us as we set off.

    Our next stop was Steeltown; we were woefully unprepared.

 The Cursed Lands Part 17

    The deeper we rode into the Dellends, the more barren the landscape became. The sporadic patches of yellow grass were gone, and the skeletal remains of trees became sparse. There were no bandits on the road or beastkin waiting in ambush. There was just¡­ nothing. The only landmark was the distant mountains, standing tall like stone arrowheads. As we rode, our galloping kicked up fine, grey dust that coated our clothes, skin and lungs, taking years off our lives.

    By noon on the second day, the outline of buildings appeared on the horizon. I was grateful; it gave our party more company for our misery. Thor and the horses were covered in the trail dust, sneezing out the grey specks that went up their noses. The rest of us wrapped handkerchiefs around our faces. It helped, but not much.

    Steeltown was unlike any other settlement I¡¯ve seen, and I¡¯d seen at least one. Most towns developed around the manor house of the land''s Lord, leading to a hierarchy where wealth and power were concentrated in the centre and flowed outwards. This place was different.

    The Vangraves'' weak hold on the land led to Steeltown''s creation closer to the mountains, where the first veins of iron were discovered. As we rode into town, each building we passed was unique, made of repurposed wood and other salvaged materials that gave the place a feeling of impermanence. It was as if the residents knew that this town, like themselves, lived on borrowed time.

    It was on many of their faces, that look of resignation¡ªwashed-out men and women who showed early signs of heavy metal poisoning. There were other looks, hard expressions from men who looked like they spent more time in the tavern than the mines. These men patrolled the streets, keeping the thin veneer of order alive while looking like the ones who started the trouble.

    "Mining cartel goons," Castille said under her breath. "Doubtful they do much mining."

    "Not a regular guard in sight. I don''t get it. Why doesn''t the King bring in the military and kick out the cartels?" I asked.

    "The King is busy with the war," Isla said, an edge to her voice. "Besides, the Vangraves still pay the annual tithe. They provide a surplus of gold and metals to compensate for the lack of men."

    She looked around, scanning the sprawling town with her mouth set in a frown.

    "Whatever the cartels don¡¯t give to the Vangraves is used to fund all this."

    "Let''s find an inn. We can gather information and get off the street," I said.

    In front of me on horseback, Dugan nodded. He looked down at Thor. He had it the hardest during our journey, being closest to the ground and dust that caked his fur. Isla had decided not to create water when we made camp yesterday. She was trying to dull her instinct to use Landbound magic to solve all our problems.

    Thor looked up at Dugan and me with hard, resolved eyes. Eyes that said he could continue to endure. I believed him.

    "Yes, boss," Castille said with a sarcastic edge, falling into her role as my bodyguard.

    Dugan''s horse led as we rode further into town at a slow trot. As always, I received plenty of stares, some for being a half-elf, others for riding on the back of another man''s horse. I tried not to mind; it fit my cover as a foppish elf merchant.

    As we reached the town¡¯s centre, we found one stone building. The Sanctifier Guildhall looked like a smaller version of the one in the capital. Its¡¯ sharp, steepled roof towered over the other structures. Its¡¯ walls were made of the same uniform grey stone as the buildings in Southsun and the capital.

    Was there a special quarry where they mined the stuff?

    My stomach fluttered at the sight of the building. They would know we were in Steeltown now, and, thanks to their enchanted books, they could relay that information to the inquisitor. I would have to check my book for new announcements tonight.

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    On the other side of the street was an inn simply called the Pit. The wide, two-storey building was assembled from mismatched wood; some planks sun-darkened from years of Luskainian summers, others bone white like the trees we rode by to get into town. Large windows on the first floor of the building invited the noon sunlight. We dismounted and tied off our horses, ripping the handkerchiefs off our faces and wiping off the dust.

    I let Castille lead the way into the inn with Isla and Dugan on either side. Thor hung back with the horses. We would need to find some way to clean the pack animal before the day was through.

    As we entered, I rubbed my eyes, blinking in disbelief. The inside of the Pit was finely furnished, with the wooden d¨¦cor stained and polished in a rich, dark brown hue. The first floor was a tavern with round tables and chairs evenly spaced on the wooden boards, offset by a bar against the left wall. Beside the bar, a job request board was set up. It was covered in unclaimed contracts; adventuring work didn¡¯t pay as well as other jobs in the Dellends.

    A handful of patrons nursed their cups at the bar while women in gaudy dresses waited around the tables. They perked up as we entered. A young woman with light brown hair and dark circles under her eyes greeted our group and showed us to a table in the back corner near the staircase to the second floor.

    Something was off. The women were not customers, and there were too many for them all to be waitresses. The truth became clear when a red-headed woman in her thirties sauntered to our table.

    She flashed us a well-practiced smile. Age had done little to diminish her beauty. She put her fiery hair in an updo and wore a dress of a similar hue.

    "Welcome to the Pit. If I may ask, are you here for a short or long stay?"

    "Short stay?" Isla asked.

    The eyes of the surrounding women glanced at our table.

    "This is a brothel," I said.

    The woman''s smile deepened.

    "We are a brothel, tavern and inn. I am Cassandra Newveil, manager and madame, at your service."

    "And which service is best?" Castille asked.

    Cassandra inclined her head to Castille and smiled.

    "Everything is exceptional. Everything is on offer."

    Castille stared at Cassandra and turned to Dugan with a pleading look in her eyes. He returned her look with a slight smile and nod.

    "I would like to see these services," Castille said, turning back to Cassandra.

    "That can be arranged."

    Cassandra turned to the rest of the table.

    "The young woman who seated you, Denise, will help you with the rest of your arrangements."

    She took Castille by the hand and led her upstairs.

    Isla and I exchanged confused looks.

    What is Dugan and Castille¡¯s relationship?

    Denise returned and took our request to stay at the inn. The second floor was split between two wings of rooms based on the type of customer: the left side for short stays and the right side for long stays. After paying for two rooms for the next couple of days, Isla left for our shared room, leaving me and Dugan at the table drinking overpriced mead.

    As the man nursed his drink from across the table, I was at a loss for words. Something about my party members had that effect. Like Castille and Isla, Dugan and I were opposites in personality, but at least Isla talked. Dugan had only spoken two words in the weeks since we travelled together, and it wasn''t even at me! I thrummed the table with my fingers, thinking of topics that would get him to talk.

    I considered bringing up his relationship with Castille but didn¡¯t want an axe between my eyes. With Isla, it was easy. She taught me magic, and now I was teaching her how to use a dagger¡ªthat gave us a lot to talk about. Castille''s confident, sarcastic nature made our conversations flow naturally, but Dugan¡­ was Dugan.

    I stood up, making Dugan take his eyes off the bottom of his mug to stare up at me.

    "I''m going to go get a lay of the land. You want to come?¡±

    Dugan nodded, standing up and walking with me out the door. We brought Thor along as we walked the streets of Steeltown. The layout was simple once you looked past the haphazard construction of the buildings. The town was split into quarters. There was an Industrial Quarter for processing the minerals and ores mined from the mountains. There was a Service Quarter for merchants and inns like the Pit. Lastly, there were two Residential Quarters, one for the poor and another for the well-off.

    As we walked the streets, I received the looks that I came to expect. Even at the cursed heart of the country, elves and half-elves were almost unheard of. This public appearance would help my cover as a new merchant visiting the town. It would also put a target on my back. Well, that¡¯s what Dugan was for.

    Walking around a corner in the Service Quarter, I bumped into what I first thought was a child. The man was shorter than Elmer, with stubby limbs and a large head that came up to my waist. I jumped back, hand on the handle of my cane.

    He had an almond-brown face framed with wild tufts of dark brown hair on his cheeks. A strange bundle of white cloth wrapped around his head. He looked just as surprised to see me. His mouth hung open, revealing long, canine teeth. His green, catlike eyes were as wide as saucer plates.

    He was half beastkin the way I was half-elf.

    Another man walked around the corner, half a head taller than me and broad-shouldered. He examined me with his red catlike eyes, and the family resemblance became clear.

    These were the Lagos brothers.

 The Cursed Lands Part 18

    The taller Dahlgeshi man quirked an eyebrow as he looked from me to his brother.

    Two guards trailed a few steps behind him, wearing patchwork leather armour and curved swords on their hips. He raised a pacifying hand as the guards reached for those weapons, stepping closer to examine me like a prized animal.

    I stared back; it only made sense.

    He was handsome, with a neatly trimmed beard and closely cropped dark brown hair. The tall man pointed to his brother, his well-defined arms flexing in his beige, sleeveless tunic.

    "I apologize for Finnick. We only know of elves from stories. Seeing one walking around in the flesh is¡­ jarring. What¡¯s your name?"

    In his eyes, there was no apology, only a casual calculus. He was sizing me up, determining if I was predator or prey. I smiled. This was my favourite game.

    "It''s understandable. You¡¯re the first Dahlgeshi I''ve ever met. I''m Jacob. Jacob Sin. What do your stories say?"

    The taller brother slowly nodded as I said my name.

    "I am Van Lagos. Our stories say that you can kill with a word and split mountains with a whisper. Of course¡­ those are only stories.¡±

    I smiled wider as I shook my head.

    "Not stories. It''s possible with High Elvish. Although, I don¡¯t know how."

    Van Lagos quirked an eyebrow. I knew what he was thinking. Why admit your weakness? Well, to hide your strength. That was my gamble.

    "They also say that you can seduce with a stare and control minds with a wiggle of your eyebrows."

    "Now that sounds like a story."

    "Speak for yourself."

    Van Lagos smiled, his sharp canines raising the hair on the back of my neck.

    "You know our names, and we know yours. Who is that beside you?"

    Dugan loomed a few steps behind me, his hand resting on the axe looped into his belt. Beside him, Thor matched the man¡¯s sombre expression.

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    "That¡¯s Dugan, my bodyguard."

    "Bodyguard! And what makes your body so valuable?"

    "It¡¯s not; my cargo is. I''m a merchant."

    Van Lagos¡¯ eyes glimmered.

    Was that curiosity?

    "A merchant of what?"

    I paused. We hadn''t thought that far ahead. What kind of merchant was I? I needed to say something. The longer I hesitated, the more likely my cover would get blown. I reached into my jacket pockets, looking for something, anything that would impress Van Lagos and maintain my cover. I inhaled as I felt something cool, round, and metallic.

    With my left hand, I lifted the second of three hand bombs I bought from Elmer. Van Lagos'' eyes widened, and Finnick paled, becoming a few shades lighter.

    "And I have more where that came from."

    I tossed the unlit bomb at Van Lagos, who caught it without missing a step. He hefted it in his hand, a mischievous grin on his face.

    "Military grade explosives¡­ Imagine the applications to mining, brother."

    "It is as you say, brother. That and so much more," Finnick said while taking a few steps back.

    "You only have one guard for merchandise this valuable?"

    "Speak for yourself. You''re walking around with only two guards."

    Van Lagos looked at me and laughed.

    "We have ways of protecting ourselves."

    My eyes widened as Van Lagos ignited the tip of his index finger, creating a candle-sized flame that danced next to the bomb¡¯s fuse.

    "And, besides, in Steeltown, we live dangerously."

    He lit the fuse. Finnick Lagos yelped; their bodyguards backed away, and even Dugan tensed up at my side. I didn''t move; my eyes were fixed on the flame. He was like me, a Landbound mage that could create fire. From my lessons with Isla, I learned the rareness of this ability. No one would voluntarily put their land to the torch.

    But Isla''s perspective was Luskainian. Dahlgesh was further south, where the temperature was warmer, and deserts scarred the land. Could fire creation be more common in that type of climate? Another question entered my mind as my eyes followed the flickering flame.

    "Does it hurt?"

    "What?"

    Van Lagos cocked his head, surprised at my nonreaction.

    "Does it hurt?" I asked again.

    "Why would it? I have quelled the fire."

    Quelled the fire?

    He raised his lit finger to his mouth, blowing out the flame. A moment later, the bomb¡¯s fuse extinguished. Van Lagos tilted his head to the other side, his eyes narrowing as he examined me.

    "Tomorrow night, there will be a party at our compound. All the major players in Steeltown will be there. You should come. You and your bodyguard. Keep the boar at home; it may end up on the menu."

    "Brother?!" Finnick hissed.

    "My mind is made up! He will do well in Steeltown."

    As he prepared to toss back the hand bomb, I raised my hand.

    "Keep it. It¡¯s a sample."

    Van Lagos smirked.

    "A sample. Very nice."

    He and his entourage walked past us, Finnick looking over his shoulder until they were out of view.

    I exhaled and let the tension leave my body.

    "Not bad for our first day in Steeltown."

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Dugan said.

    That was an understatement. There were a million ways that I could have gone wrong.

    So, Van Lagos was a mage¡ªmost likely, both brothers were.

    More importantly, Dugan and I had just been invited to a party.

    I couldn''t wait to tell Isla and Castille.

 The Cursed Lands Part 19

    "You were invited where?!"

    Isla paced across the ornate rug of the Pit''s master suite. Castille laid over the sheets of the suite¡¯s oversized mattress in a red silk robe. I sat in the side table chair, and Dugan stood against the wall near the door. Castille convinced Cassandra to upgrade us to the best rooms in the inn. I fixated on a stag''s head mounted over the bed, and as Isla wrung her hands, I wondered what strange sights it had seen over the years.

    "Isla! Calm down. This is good for us. Cassandra told me that the cartels have the Brimspoke Mountains locked down. If we want to investigate the curse, we¡¯ll need one of them backing us," Castille said.

    The woman was glowing.

    Was the Pit also a spa?

    "Yes, let''s just lie to the Dahlgeshi cartel leaders'' faces."

    She was more tightly wound than usual, but that was understandable. We were in the belly of the beast with two Dahlgeshi mages freely using their abilities when we could not.

    "If it''s any consolation, I''ll be doing the lying," I said.

    Isla stopped pacing and exhaled.

    "Sorry, it''s just¡­ Dahlgeshi mages on Luskainian soil¡­ Do you think they''re foulborn?"

    I blinked at her.

    Why hadn¡¯t I thought of that? There was no way the Dahlgeshi would let nobles invade Luskainian land and flaunt their identities so openly. I nodded my head.

    "Yes, that¡¯s what I assumed," I lied.

    Isla''s face flashed with disgust and then pity.

    "We should go to the Sanctifier Guildhall."

    "What! Why?" I asked.

    "If we¡¯re going to do this, I need access to their historical records to narrow down who could be behind the curse."

    "And they''ll just let you walk in?"

    "Yes, of course. Nobles always check the Sanctifier¡¯s historical records when researching potential marriages. Understanding genealogy is an important part of Landbound Magic.¡±

    "Oh..."

    I furrowed my eyebrows to keep the embarrassment off my face.

    "Besides, if we talk to the local Guildhall before the inquisitor arrives, they may be able to stop him from taking our heads. Now that I think of it, we should have gone to them as soon as we entered Steeltown," Isla said.

    I had already shown Isla the Sanctifier messages about the Miller¡¯s Hill incident, yet she was willing to walk right into their jaws. Maybe it was a noble¡¯s arrogance, but she was right. My distaste for the Sanctifiers and fear of their inquisitor made me want to avoid the organization when I should be using them like they wanted to use me.

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    "OK, fine. Do you want to go now?" I asked.

    Isla turned to look out the room''s window. It would be evening soon.

    "How about first thing tomorrow? I don''t want to be caught outside at night."

    Castille clapped her hands together.

    "It¡¯s a plan then. We¡¯ll go to the Sanctifier Guildhall tomorrow and then split into two teams: the boys will go to the Lagos brothers¡¯ party, and the rest of us will spend the day looking through old records.

    She hopped off the bed, walked to the door and tousled Dugan¡¯s hair.

    "I''m going to eat. I had a tiring day."

    ¡°I bet.¡±

    ¡°You sound jealous, Jacob,¡± Castille said.

    My face flushed.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m not?!¡±

    ¡°Good! It¡¯s not like I haven¡¯t tried to set you up. What¡¯s the saying, Dugan? You can lead a horse to water but can¡¯t get it to drink.¡±

    She flashed me a painfully sweet smile as she left the room with Dugan and Thor in tow.

    ¡°What was that about?¡± Isla asked; she looked at me with a quirked eyebrow.

    My face flushed a deeper shade of red.

    ¡°Ah¡­ I¡¯m going to check out our room.¡±

    That night, I slept on the floor, dreaming of a fire that did not burn.

    # # #

    The next morning, we made the short trek across the street to the Sanctifier Guild. The austere grey building brought up bad memories¡ªwaking up bound and gagged, selling away my freedom and the sight of Alden¡¯s punchable face.

    Castille rapped on the black wooden door. We waited a minute before a heavy bolt jostled, and the door creaked open.

    A man with sandy brown hair and sunken cheeks looked through the narrow gap.

    "Y-Yes?"

    I walked to Castille''s side to listen to their conversation. The man''s eyes widened as he caught sight of me.

    "S-Sorry, sir, we''ve been expecting you."

    He disappeared behind the door as Castille and I exchanged looks.

    The opening widened as the feeble man struggled to pull the door open. Once the gap was big enough, the man hopped before us and flashed a nervous smile.

    "Please, come in."

    He gestured down a short hallway that led to another door, more fortified than the last.

    Castille looked up, shrugged and walked forward. The rest of us advanced with more hesitation.

    Upon entering the building, I was struck by the increased fortification compared to the Guildhall in the capital. The hallway we entered was two stories, with slick grey stone walls on the first story and rectangular murder holes for shooting arrows and throwing projectiles from the second story. We had just walked into a kill box.

    After a few minutes of struggling to close the front door, the servant scampered past us. He rapped on the second door with an uneven rhythm¡ªa secret knock. A moment later, what sounded like a wooden crossbeam lifted from the door. The second set of doors opened faster as two armed guards in black and silvery livery blocked the entrance. Their hands went to their swords as they saw Castille and Dugan''s weapons.

    "Wait! Wait!"

    A man in black robes ran into view, waving his arms. He had a familiar punchable face.

    "They''re guests!"

    "Guests?" I asked.

    I didn¡¯t like where this was going.

    "Yes, I''m Dew Able."

    "I see the family resemblance."

    I wasn''t lying; he was the spitting image of Alden Able, twenty years younger.

    He blushed.

    "To be compared to my older brother¡­ Ah, please, follow me to the second floor. I have refreshments."

    Dew Able escorted us as his guards followed a few steps behind. Lanterns lit the windowless hall with ghostly white fire, adding to the tension charging the air.

    ¡°This is a bad idea,¡± I whispered. ¡°We need to leave. Now.¡±

    ¡°Put some steel in your spine, Jacob. We¡¯ll be fine.¡± Castille said.

    Where did she get her confidence?

    We walked past mostly empty black benches, with more armed guards standing at attention along the grey walls. A handful of similarly black-robed clerks read and scribbled on paper near the benches at the back. Dew Able ushered us up a staircase on the left, leading us past shelves of thick tomes that lined the wall to the door of his private office.

    "We were wondering when you would arrive, Jacob Sin."

    He opened the door to reveal a large room furnished with black wood and gold leaf. A woman in a tailored black uniform sat on a white cushioned sofa.

    "May I introduce Special Inquisitor Jennifer Reed."

 The Cursed Lands Part 20

    I reached for the handle of my cane. Castille clamped an iron grip on my forearm, giving me a quick shake of her head, her lips pressed into a thin line.

    I did the math. It was four on four. They would have brought more guards along if they wanted to ambush us. Maybe the inquisitor was just that confident.

    I eyed the woman sitting at the side of the room. She was younger than I expected, wearing an all-black uniform with black riding boots and gloves. I was sensing a theme. Her black hair was impossibly straight, the ends falling over her shoulders while a blunt fringe covered her forehead.

    She sipped from a grey metal goblet, putting the cup on a low table in front of the sofa to reveal ruby-red lips.

    "You may enter."

    I took half a step forward before catching myself. Yes, she was confident, with a voice as smooth as velvet. She assumed her authority¡ªI wouldn¡¯t give it to her. She smiled, accepting my challenge.

    I exhaled and unclenched my fingers around my cane, nodding to Castille to release me.

    We filtered into the room, sitting on white cushioned furniture on the opposite side of the Inquisitor while Dugan stood behind us. Dew walked around the Inquisitor, sitting at his desk at the end of the room that overlooked the seated people. His guards flanked him on either side.

    We checked the enchanted book the night before. There was only one new announcement about increased beastkin raids across the countryside.

    The inquisitor stared at us, memorizing our faces, our clothes¡ªhow we moved. She was another predator, but I was getting used to this game.

    "When did you get into Steeltown?" I asked.

    The inquisitor looked at me, quirking an eyebrow.

    ¡°Jacob Sin. As bold as described, I like that. You can call me Reed.¡±

    She picked up her goblet, taking a long draw of a red liquid while we waited.

    Wine? In the morning?

    She put the goblet down.

    "I arrived a few days before you and your friends."

    So, she did have people watching for us.

    "You caused quite a bit of trouble outside the capital. Rugar was very angry."

    "Do the Sanctifiers take orders from merchants now?" Castille asked.

    The Northern woman leaned back in her chair, one foot on the low table. Sometimes, I wish I could be more like her.

    Reed flashed a tight-lipped smile.

    "The Sanctifiers don''t take orders. We are mediators, and Rugar is a valued client. Unfortunately for him, so are you."

    My shoulders tensed.

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    "What do you mean?"

    "High Sanctifier Alden Able has taken an interest in you, Jacob. Once I investigated the incident and found out you were involved¡­ special considerations were made."

    "Which are?"

    She gave me an innocent shrug.

    ¡°Who knows."

    My stomach twisted in knots.

    What were Alden and Rugar planning to do to me?

    "Then why are you here?"

    "To protect our investment."

    "Does that mean you''re going to help with our quest?" Isla asked.

    Reed turned to Dew Able, who sputtered at her sudden attention. Regaining some control, he spoke.

    "In regards to the heavy metal curse, the Sanctifiers are neutral. While we receive sizable¡­ donations from our clients in this town, we cannot deny the opportunities of an uncursed Dellend. Therefore, we will not go out of our way to help your quest but will not impede it either."

    Castille scoffed.

    "What business is there in a place where the spirits cannot be bound?"

    Dew Able flashed a nervous smile.

    "Landbound contracts are only one aspect of our business. We provide contracts of all kinds. In this unfriendly political climate, we are the closest thing to the law."

    "Speaking of politics, I hear you¡¯re going to the Lagos party tonight," Reed said.

    "How did you know that?"

    "This is Steeltown. The only thing that spreads faster than illness is rumours. It looks like we''ll get another chance to talk. I''ll be going as well.¡±

    Great.

    "I hope you''re not going dressed like that."

    She pointed at me, her mouth twisted into a frown.

    I looked down at my clothes. My once fine coat had seen better days from the month of fighting and hard travel.

    Reed pulled out a card and slid it across the table.

    "Take this. It''s the address for the best tailor in Steeltown. Tell him Reed sent you."

    I picked up the card.

    "What''s the catch?"

    "No catch. We can''t have our investment not look the part."

    I flipped over the card, quirking an eyebrow as I slipped it into my pocket.

    Isla coughed to get the Inquisitor''s attention.

    "Um¡­ While we''re here, can we use your archives to investigate the curse?"

    Reed looked to Dew Able, who squirmed under her gaze.

    "I - I don''t see why not."

    Isla relaxed beside me. The feeling was contagious. We had gotten everything we wanted, more if the message on the card was to be believed. Castille was right¡­ again.

    I sighed as I got to my feet.

    "If that''s all, I think I''ll be going."

    I moved to the door, and the rest of the party followed a few steps behind me as Reed''s dark eyes tracked me across the room. At the lip of the entrance, she spoke.

    "One last question: When your party escaped Rugar''s men, who created the fog around Miller''s Hill?"

    I stiffened, turning back to see Isla''s shocked face in front of me. The noblewoman was right; she was a terrible liar. Luckily, her face was turned away from the Inquisitor.

    "It was me. I did it."

    Reed leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as her eyes bore into me.

    "Really?! I see why the Alden likes you."

    She flashed a smile that didn''t reach her eyes. The Inquisitor knew I was lying but liked how well I did it. I shivered as I left the room.

    "I need a bath after dealing with that one," Castille said as we walked to the foot of the staircase.

    Dugan nodded in agreement, one hand on his axe head as he eyed the shadowy corners of the Guildhall¡¯s second floor.

    "I''m just happy to make it out in one piece," I said.

    Castille slapped my back.

    ¡°Who knew you were such a VIP?!¡±

    I snarled.

    ¡°I¡¯m not. I think they want to use me to get to the elves.¡±

    Castille frowned.

    ¡°Oh¡­ I don¡¯t like that.¡±

    ¡°Still, we need them. So, let¡¯s play nice for now,¡± Isla said.

    Her face was pale, and her eyes unfocused, looking off into the distance.

    The Inquisitor had shaken her. Spirits below, she had shaken me. What was I thinking covering for Isla? That¡¯s not something Sin would do.

    ¡°Isla is right. We stick to the plan. The boys go to the party, and Isla and I¡­¡±

    Castille looked around at the shelves of thickly bound tomes. She sighed, letting her shoulders sag.

    "We¡¯ll stay here.¡±

    ¡°Try not to get too excited,¡± I said.

    Castille grimaced.

    ¡°I¡¯m missing out on a party to read books."

    "I know¡­ isn¡¯t it great?" Isla asked.

    Castille looked at Isla and laughed; a deep belly laugh made the Sanctifiers below us look up and sneer.

    ¡°Maybe it won¡¯t be so bad with company. Be careful, you two.¡±

    She tousled Dugan¡¯s curly hair.

    "I was going to tell you the same thing.¡±

    As Dugan and I turned to walk down the staircase, someone tugged on my sleeve.

    ¡°Isla?¡±

    "Thank you for taking the blame. You know, for Miller¡¯s Hill.¡±

    I smiled at her.

    "No problem.¡±

    It won¡¯t be happening again.

 The Cursed Lands Part 21

    We heard Thor before we saw him as we entered Castille''s master suite at the Pit. His loud oinking filled the room as two women dried off his head with white cotton towels.

    The women of the Pit were used to dealing with pigs, making them the best suited for bathing the boar. Cassandra had spared some of their precious rainwater for the effort. Whatever magic Castille used on her needed to be taught. She sat at the foot of the bed, covering her mouth to hold back laughter. Her eyes brightened when she saw us enter the room.

    "Jacob. Dugan. Does this mean your visit to the Sanctifier Guild was fruitful?"

    "That¡¯s one way to describe it. Was the building always so fortified?"

    "They made renovations after the last bit of fighting. When the Lagos brothers came into power.¡±

    ¡°How long ago was that?¡±

    ¡°Five¡ªmaybe six years ago. Time moves fast in the Del.¡±

    I thought back to Van Lagos and the fire that didn¡¯t burn. I needed to learn more.

    Cassandra continued speaking.

    ¡°When the Lagos brothers defeated the old cartel leaders, there was a scramble for power. Different mining crews and gangs fought in the streets while Sanctifiers waited out the storm. When the dust settled, they formed a new Steeltown compact with the new leaders, Lady Kateen, the Lagos Brothers and Tiny Tom.¡±

    ¡°What do you know about the Lagos Brothers?¡±

    Cassandra blinked at me.

    ¡°I only know what everyone else knows. They¡¯re powerful mages.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t come here¡­ Use your services.¡±

    She laughed.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know many mages, do you? Even if they did partake in our services, they would be too worried about creating a bastard to enjoy themselves.¡±

    I rubbed my chin. This wasn¡¯t going anywhere. I pulled out my cane and fell into the chair at the side of the bed. Dugan walked to the other side of the room to scratch Thor on the head while the other women watched.

    ¡°How about Lady Kateen? Can you tell me anything about her?¡±

    Cassandra squirmed on the bed.

    ¡°I''d rather not say. We pay protection up to her. Me and the rest of the Service Quarter.¡±

    ¡°She sounds powerful.¡±

    "She is. Lady Kateen has her hands in all merchant activity in and out of Steeltown. The Lagos Brothers and Tiny Tom couldn''t sell their goods without her connections. She¡¯ll want a cut of your business as well. When she asks, just give it to her. Your life will be easier."

    "Sounds like she''s the one in charge around here."

    "Not quite. It''s a delicate balance. While Lady Kateen controls trade and the Service Quarter of Steeltown, the Lagos Brothers and Tiny Tom''s cartels control the mining and the Industrial Quarter. They also have more muscle. They can pay them directly from the ore they mine."

    I nodded, rolling my cane in my right hand.

    "How does Lady Kateen match up to the Lagos Brothers as a mage? Could she handle them if she had help?"

    Cassandra gave me a confused look and then laughed.

    "Lady Kateen isn''t a mage. She was a penniless wet nurse before she moved here. That''s the beauty of Steeltown. You can become anything here."

    "If you don''t die of lead poisoning first."

    Cassandra gave me a sour look.

    ¡°Not all of us can come from money. To make something of yourself in this world, you have to make sacrifices, and, for most of us, your body is the first thing you forfeit.¡±

    She stood up, clapping her hands together.

    "Ladies, our job is done. Let''s leave the gentlemen to their business."

    She glided out of the room with the two women on her heels, leaving Dugan, Thor, and me alone.

    I sighed.

    "I shouldn''t have said that."

    Dugan looked at me with impassive eyes.

    "Y- y- your heart wwwass is in the right place."

    I raised my eyebrows.

    Dugan blushed, looking away and running a hand through his beard.

    Oh¡­ that¡¯s why he didn¡¯t talk.

    One of the boys at my orphanage stuttered. I didn¡¯t know who got it worse: me or him.

    I smiled. Things were so much simpler back then.

    "Do you wanna check out this tailor?"

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    He nodded.

    ¡°Ca¡­ Can you help me with the saddlebags?¡±

    I shrugged, getting out of my chair to walk around the bed and brush past Thor. He smelled of rosewater and fennel. Were the girls cleaning him or preparing him for tonight¡¯s dinner? Beside him, the saddlebags he shrugged off laid on the floor.

    ¡°Should be easy enough.¡±

    I grabbed onto the saddlebags and pulled. My arms strained from the weight.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Dugan said.

    I let go, panting from the unexpected exertion as my biceps burned. Beside me, Thor wheezed out a short series of laughs.

    ¡°Shut up before I turn you into stew.¡±

    Thor leaned forward and bit me!

    ¡°Ow! You-¡°

    ¡°Enough! D-don¡¯t egg him on, and you...¡±

    Dugan pointed to the pack animal.

    ¡°Apologize.¡±

    Thor grumbled out what I assumed was an apology.

    Dugan walked to the other side of the saddlebags.

    ¡°Lift wwwith your legs.¡±

    Together, we hoisted the saddlebags onto Thor¡¯s back, fastening the straps around his belly. The saddlebags had to be hundreds of pounds, and that was after the enchantment on the bags reduced the weight. Thor had been carrying this weight the entire time with no complaints.

    ¡°Thor¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    The boar looked at me over his shoulder and oinked.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    I think.

    # # #

    The three of us stood in front of the Iron Doublet before midday. This part of the Service Quarter was more upscale. The wooden storefront was made from planks of wood taken from a single source. Large glass windows revealed displays of men''s and women''s clothing.

    We walked through the entrance, ringing a bell above the door. Racks of clothing lined the walls, with men¡¯s clothing on the left and women¡¯s clothing on the right. In the middle of the shop, a large bundle of lavender cloth was heaped on a table, its ends spilling onto the floor.

    The mountain of cloth moved.

    We stepped back as a head with long, black hair uncovered itself from the heap of fabric. The cloth was a robe that draped over the slim frame of the figure whose head almost brushed the ceiling. He turned; the robe was open, revealing a well-defined chest and abs a dark shade of brown.

    At least he was wearing pants.

    "Hi?" I asked.

    He didn''t answer. Instead, he tapped a slender finger against his cheek as he looked us up and down. Even Thor was inspected. After another moment, he spoke.

    ¡°Clothing the beast will cost you extra.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    "I am Shay, tailor extraordinaire at your service."

    He bowed, his robe cut off at the elbows, making his arms look longer as he spread them wide. Long strands of wavy dark hair fell over his face.

    "I''m Jacob, and this is Dugan and Thor. Reed sent me."

    I ruffled through my pocket and pulled out the card.

    Shay plucked it between his index finger and thumb, running his free hand through his hair. He turned over the card and quirked one threaded eyebrow as he read the message written in High Elvish.

    Give my agent the best.

    As much as I hated to admit it, I was curious. What was the Sanctifiers¡¯ best? I needed to learn more about them and what they were capable of. How else could I outplay them? How else could I stay the hunter?

    In one smooth movement, Shay slipped between us, crossing the room to lock the front door.

    He¡¯s fast!

    I reached for my cane, twisting my short sword free as he slid purple curtains across the store¡¯s windows.

    Shay turned back to us and flashed a wolfish grin.

    ¡°Now that we have some privacy¡­ What are you doing?!¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t an ambush?¡± I asked.

    He laughed.

    ¡°No. If I wanted to kill you¡­ you¡¯d already be dead. Now put the toy away.¡±

    I clenched my short sword tighter.

    Someone about this man made the hairs on my neck stand up. He wasn¡¯t human, but he wasn¡¯t an elf.

    I sheathed my weapon. Reed wanted to protect the Guild¡¯s investment. She wouldn¡¯t send me to someone that would kill me. At least not yet.

    ¡°Good.¡±

    He walked past us, normally this time, his loose, lavender pants swishing on the hardwood floor.

    Shay walked to the store¡¯s back wall, exhaled and deflated. He fell onto the floor like a sheet of fabric.

    I turned to Dugan, who stared back at me with the same wide-eyed disbelief as he slithered under the wall.

    A few moments later, there was a loud clunk, like a lever had been pulled. Part of the back wall opened to reveal Shay holding a lamp in one hand and bundles of clothes in the other.

    He pushed aside blue fabric on the table in the middle of the room, laying out each item of clothing before falling back onto a nearby stool.

    "This is my best. I¡¯ve taken your measurements and colour preferences into account. Any more alterations should be minimal."

    I stepped closer to the table, and I was drawn to a red jacket embroidered with gold thread. Two gold phoenixes stared at each other on the jacket¡¯s front.

    "I can''t afford this," I whispered.

    The craftsmanship was on a different level. I reached out to touch the material and felt a familiar, hungry sensation.

    Enchantment.

    "Then it''s a good thing you''re not paying for it. Now watch."

    Shay whispered into his hand. His index finger unravelled from the tip like loose knitting, revealing a large sewing needle that jutted from the base of his knuckle. He stabbed and sliced into the jacket, leaving no holes or tears.

    "The jacket is both cut and stab-resistant. Although, I will warn you. Its protection will be limited against direct attacks from large weapons."

    "It¡¯s enchanted," I said.

    Shay laughed, shaking his head.

    ¡°Making fabric stronger is not enchantment.¡±

    ¡°Then what is?¡±

    ¡°Watch.¡±

    Shay whispered into his hand. His index finger rewrapped itself as he placed it on the jacket.

    Wait. Where did the jacket go?

    I scanned the room, looking everywhere except for the table in front of me.

    "This is for stealth. It makes people look away from the jacket. The effect is more efficient than invisibility, but it has its limitations. You must burn will to maintain the effect. The amount of will burned increases with the number of people looking at you and how hard they try to look. Do you understand?¡±

    I nodded.

    ¡°Good.¡±

    He lifted his finger off the jacket. My eyes snapped back to the table.

    "There are change rooms at the side over there. Why don''t you try it on so I can make alterations."

    I turned to Dugan, who had picked out a deep green doublet embroidered with silver leaves. Shay was amazing. From a moment of observation, he knew exactly what we wanted.

    ¡°What are you?¡±

    "How rude. Are you like this with everyone who gives you gifts?"

    I did my best imitation of Reed¡¯s stare, the kind that assumed you were already guilty.

    Shay smiled, throwing up his hands in mock defeat.

    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll tell you. It¡¯s not difficult to deduce. If objects can be enchanted, why not people?¡±

    I blinked.

    Enchanted people? I¡¯d never thought of that.

    Shay tilted his head up, savouring my shocked expression¡ªsmelling weakness.

    ¡°You¡¯re enchanted too, Landbound mage. Although, in a way that¡¯s less interesting than me.¡±

    I¡¯m enchanted?

    ¡°The beauty of the Sanctifier contract is it gave us the ability to rename ourselves. That was always the one limitation of spoken High Elvish. But I wonder¡­ Do you think your ancestors would approve of you, half-elf? You let part of your soul die to connect to dead spirits. Was it worth it?¡±

    My body trembled. Dugan and Thor stepped away from us¡ªwide-eyed, unsure what would happen next.

    ¡°How old are you?¡± I asked in a whisper, terrified of the answer.

    ¡°Old, child. Very old.¡±

    ¡°Are you behind the curse?¡±

    ¡°Heavens, no! I prefer cloth to metal.¡±

    I searched his dark eyes.

    He wasn¡¯t behind the curse, but he was a liar. He understood that the world was a lie and had gained the power to shape it as he willed.

    ¡°Teach me. Teach me the old ways. Teach me the First Magic.¡±

    Shay stared at me, a wild excitement dancing across his face that just as quickly died.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Why not?!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m busy.¡±

    Shay waved a hand, gesturing at the clothes lining the walls.

    ¡°Besides, I already have a new apprentice. For now, let¡¯s finish your alterations.¡±

 The Cursed Lands Part 22

    I left the Iron Doublet in a daze. A master of spoken High Elvish, a creature older than any living elf, reduced to a common tailor.

    I shook my head. This is what the Sanctifiers did. They stripped away everything that made us special and unique, leaving only what was useful to their goals. Reed was no different. No matter how much she bribed me or what she bribed me with, I would not be tamed.

    And then there was the other uncomfortable truth: I and every other Landbound mage were enchanted. Shay¡¯s explanation made sense. The tugging on my soul was my quintessence pulled taut, stretched across space and anchored in the earth beneath my mansion home.

    What would happen if I died here? Would I join Cynthia and the others, or would the Dellends become my resting place? Those questions haunted me as we returned to our rooms at the Pit and prepared for tonight''s party.

    # # #

    We arrived at the Lagos estate on horseback, with Dugan riding his horse and me borrowing Isla''s white gelding. As we reached the gates, I dismounted with more grace than my first attempts but still clumsier than Dugan.

    We followed Van Lagos¡¯ advice and left Thor at the Pit. The ladies had adopted the boar as their unofficial mascot, and Thor loved the attention. It was for the best. He wouldn''t be useful here, and we didn''t want to reveal how we stored our supplies.

    Located on the outskirts of Steeltown''s wealthier Residential Quarter, the Lagos estate looked more like a fortress. The large structure was made from light grey sandstone and surrounded by mismatched stone walls and heavy black iron gates. Armed guards stood at the main gate and patrolled the grounds with lit torches.

    I looked down at my phoenix-emblazoned jacket and felt naked.

    We left our weapons at the Pit. It was one of the unofficial rules of the party. My only comforts were the belt sash around my waist and Dugan.

    The doublet he picked out was tight around the arms. Shay removed the sleeves and gave Dugan a loose shirt to wear under his makeshift vest. He fidgeted with the silver chain that draped over his shoulders.

    To my surprise, the guards let us pass without trouble, taking our horses to the estate¡¯s stables. For better or worse, everyone knew who I was.

    A patrol of guards led us to the entrance. The weathered wooden doors were open to let servants dressed in black and white rush into and out of the main building.

    We followed a red velvet carpet through a wide stone hallway, occasionally passing rocks the size of our heads on round pedestals. The rocks ranged from deep blue orbs to angular, rainbow-coloured crystals. I was told these were lapis lazuli and bismuth. I didn''t care.

    The corridor ended in another set of large, open doors. Faint music and a chorus of voices spilled out of the estate''s main hall. The braziers were lit with sweet-scented sandalwood, casting the space in a warm glow. Lagos guards lined the walls in patchwork leather while scantily clad servers floated through the crowd, carrying appetizers on polished silver trays.

    The guests were varied, attempting to look like members of high society with varying degrees of success. The Inquisitor succeeded. Reed stood out in her all-black uniform, a silver sash running diagonally across her body, drawing attention to her hourglass figure. Outside of the sombre Guildhall, I had to admit she was beautiful in a domineering sort of way. She was leaning forward, talking to a deathly pale man in a wheelchair. I forced myself to turn away, spotting her opposite on the other side of the room.

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    The plump, middle-aged woman rested on a couch with red cushions. She wore a white dress to match the flowers in her blonde hair. Around her were four similarly dressed teenage girls. If I had to guess, that was Lady Kateen.

    My eyes flicked to the other unusual person at the party¡ªa man a head shorter than Shay at six and a half feet tall. Where Shay was slender, this man was thickly muscled. I wondered if he could see through the mop of light brown hair that covered his eyes. He wore a brown jacket that was too short at the sleeves.

    That had to be Tiny Tom.

    Beside him was a shorter man with dirty blonde hair that receded into a widow''s peak. He looked nervous, throwing shifty glances at the other partygoers. He was also dressed in brown. He must have been with Tom.

    It was a lot to take in. I closed my eyes, massaging away the strain.

    Finally, my eyes flicked to the one thing I wanted to avoid. A large, metallic sculpture levitating three feet off the ground at the hall''s centre. At the sculpture¡¯s heart was a large golden orb. Around the orb, thin rings of gold, silver, and copper rotated at a slow pace.

    The sculpture was enchanted¡ªjust like me.

    I was enchanted, and part of my soul was dead.

    "Beautiful, is it not?"

    I turned to see Van Lagos behind us, his smile wide as he looked me up and down.

    "You clean up well, Jacob."

    "So do you.¡±

    It was true. Van Lagos wore a long robe of red silk over his white shirt and black pants. A few steps behind him, Finnick sneered at me.

    Van Lagos pointed a thumb at his brother.

    "He thought you wouldn''t come, but I''m happy to see you.¡±

    I nodded.

    That made two of us. I needed to learn more about the fire that didn¡¯t burn.

    "I see the orb caught your eye."

    "Yeah. What is it?"

    Van Lagos shrugged.

    "No idea. It came with the estate. I¡¯m told the estate¡¯s previous owner found it in the ruins underneath the mountains."

    "You left an ancient, enchanted artifact in your home, and you don''t know what it does?"

    He waved me away.

    "It''s harmless. Besides, I told you we live dangerously in Steeltown. Enjoy the party."

    The brothers walked past us to join the crowd. Finnick Lagos glared at me, giving me one more dirty look over his shoulder.

    "What did I do to him?" I asked Dugan.

    "Sssometimes existing is enough."

    I smiled. I liked this new chatty Dugan.

    "How do you want to play this?"

    "Well, we bah¡­ we barely ate anything t-today."

    "True enough."

    We cornered the first server we could find, grabbing as many appetizers as we could fit in one hand.

    It wasn''t long before an all-black figure appeared at the corner of my eye.

    Reed.

    "I see you visited our immortal tailor."

    I turned to her. In the warm glow of braziers, she was less intimidating. Standing at our full height, I loomed over her, yet she still held herself with the same confidence.

    "I did. He¡¯s wasted in his position."

    "Really? I think he¡¯s right where I want him."

    She turned Dugan.

    "Can I talk alone for a moment?"

    I gave him a reassuring nod.

    He eyed us both before stepping back and looking for another server.

    "What do you want to talk about?"

    Reed smiled.

    ¡°Come.¡±

    The Inquisitor turned on her flat heels and disappeared into the crowd.

    I blinked for a moment and then followed her, weaving between the attendees until she stopped at a row of seated musicians and turned to face me.

    "Good. You understand the nature of our relationship. I lead. You follow."

    "I wasn''t¡­ Damn."

    She got me.

    "When I was dispatched for this mission, I was given two objectives: protect the Guild''s investments and discover which mage was behind the incident at Miller''s Hill."

    "I told you it was me."

    "Cute. We know it''s the girl."

    I fought to keep my face neutral.

    She leaned in closer.

    "That''s a nice trick. Whoever trained you trained you well, but the facts are the facts."

    "Castille and Dugan are known quantities to us. You, while unique, are not capable of what was reported. The girl is a mystery.¡±

    She stepped closer, a malicious glint in her eyes.

    ¡°A mystery I want you to solve."

 The Cursed Lands Part 23

    I shook my head.

    "No. I don''t work for you. Not yet."

    ¡°That¡¯s what they all say at first. That girl¡­ There¡¯s no one matching her description in our records. Unusual for a noble. Don¡¯t you find that curious?¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t change my answer.¡±

    She smiled.

    "Would it really be so bad?"

    "What?"

    "Being under me."

    My stoic mask cracked, my face flushing bright red.

    She laughed.

    "Well trained but inexperienced. I¡¯ll remember that."

    I closed my eyes, remembering my meditations, going to that place that was so far away.

    I took a deep breath. She was trying to unbalance me. Not trying; succeeding. I wouldn¡¯t give her what she wanted. Not because of Isla¡ªno, definitely not because of her.

    Sanctifiers were trying to leash me and make me their pawn, but I was tired of being a piece in someone else¡¯s game.

    When I opened my eyes, Reed was staring at me, chin cupped by her thumb and index finger.

    ¡°Jacob Sin, you are¡­ interesting, special even.¡±

    There was that word again.

    She was right. I am special.

    I stood straighter.

    ¡°You can¡¯t control me. Not with your contracts. Not by holding debt over my head. I¡¯m free, and I always will be."

    ¡°And what¡¯s your freedom worth?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I was an indentured servant for ten, long years. It was the best thing that ever happened to me."

    I frowned. There was no deception in her reddish-brown eyes. Instead, she smiled like someone looking back on fond memories.

    "When my father died, it was the Sanctifiers that saved me and my family from poverty. They gave me an education, a home for my mother and sister, and my first taste of real power."

    She turned away from me, looking over the people in the crowd, her smile turning vicious.

    ¡°Do you know what power is, Jacob?¡±

    ¡°The ability to kill and not be killed.¡±

    ¡°Oh! I like that.¡±

    She reached for my left hand, turning it over to examine the palm.

    ¡°Yes, a killer¡¯s hand. How many people can you kill in a minute? One person? Two? Three?¡±

    She tossed my hand away, leaning closer to whisper in my ear.

    ¡°We can kill thousands with a stroke of a pen. A single line in a trade agreement, and suddenly, there¡¯s not enough water to go around. Or maybe we adjust the metal contracts and make the smelters starve. That¡¯s power, Jacob. That¡¯s what I offer you. If serve me well.¡±

    It was tempting, the power of the quill and the counting board. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to throw Isla to the wolves, but something within me growled. An animal instinct, born from my time on the street, from years of bleeding on the Red Room¡¯s floor as Sin¡¯s cruel laughter echoed in my ears.

    ¡°Now, tell me. What do you know about the girl?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. I know nothing.¡±

    It was true. Isla¡¯s background was a secret she kept close to her chest.

    ¡°Nothing? You¡¯ve been travelling together for a month. Are you shy, or are you lying to me?¡±

    I held my tongue as Reed dissected me with her eyes.

    ¡°Interesting. Well, it¡¯s never too late to learn. I¡¯ll even sweeten the deal. If you discover the girl¡¯s identity, I''ll share what Rugar and Alden are planning for you when you get back to the capital. So, do we have a deal?"

    I grit my teeth.

    That information could mean the difference between life and death. It was worth more than whatever secret Isla was keeping.

    ¡°For the last time, no.¡±

    I winced.

    Why? Why did I say that?

    Reed stared at me for a long, hard moment. No was not a word she was used to hearing.

    ¡°Suit yourself. Many Inquisitors prefer the stick over the carrot, but I find that approach¡­ unreliable. It¡¯s better to give people what they want than to punish them for their weaker inclinations. I¡¯ll leave you with the carrot-¡±

    ¡°And your stick?¡±

    She smiled.

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll show it to you. Pray I don¡¯t use it.¡±

    "Excuse me. Lady Reed?"

    Reed''s face softened as she turned to the source of the new voice.

    A young man in a wheelchair rolled toward us, pushed by a sweaty, older man dressed as a butler.

    "Yes, Lord Vangrave," Reed said.

    She added a melodic quality to her voice. It would have been charming if she hadn¡¯t threatened me a moment ago.

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    "Can you introduce me to your friend?"

    "Of course, this is Jacob Sin, an associate of mine."

    "So, you''re the elf that the whole town is talking about."

    "Half-elf. Do they say anything good?"

    Lord Vangrave flashed me an awkward smile.

    ¡°No.¡±

    He stretched out his hand. I reached out and shook it, flustering the older man.

    "You''re supposed to take the Lord''s hand and bow with your forehead to his knuckles!"

    The young noble gestured to his servant with a dismissive wave.

    "It''s fine, Reggy. I''m Victor Vangrave, the Lord of the Dellends. This is my steward, Reginald."

    The Lord was a year younger than me, handsome in well-cut clothes and shoulder-length black hair. He was also half-dead. Sickness had ravaged his body, leaving him deathly pale and wheelchair-bound. An unnerving emptiness lingered behind his eyes even when he smiled.

    "A pleasure," I said. "What brings you here?"

    "I''m still the Lord of this land. I need to make public appearances, and the Lagos brothers need to legitimize their power."

    "And what do you get out of this?"

    Victor looked out over the crowd of Steeltown¡¯s elite.

    "I want them to look at me and be reminded of the price of these parties. The land is dying, and the people with it."

    A virtuous noble? Castille would never believe me.

    "You never know, Lord Vangrave. The Dellends may be changing soon."

    "What makes you say that?"

    "Just a hunch."

    Reed gave me a sly look before speaking.

    "Since you''re here, you may as well enjoy yourself. You¡¯re old enough to join this year''s toast."

    Reginald took out a white handkerchief and patted the sweat from his forehead.

    "Something the matter, Reggy?" Victor asked.

    "I... It''s just the thought of you drinking. Think of your health, my Lord."

    "A little wine shouldn¡¯t hurt. Van Lagos is known for his taste in alcohol. Every year, he imports the best wine in the Abyssal Lands just for this party."

    Reginald sniffed.

    ¡°Of course. Once a smuggler, always a smuggler.¡±

    I noticed the lack of cups around the room.

    "Then why is no one drinking?"

    Victor flashed a disarming smile.

    "Van Lagos always gets to drink first, right after his toast. It''s the tradition."

    "I see."

    Victor smiled.

    "If I may ask, what brings you to Steeltown, Jacob?"

    "I-I''m a merchant."

    "A merchant of what?"

    There was an edge of contempt to the woman''s voice behind me. I turned to see a parted crowd with two girls in white on either side. One was a redhead; the other was a blonde with dead eyes. Lady Kateen glided between them, her chin held high and her eyes locked on mine. Walking in her heels that peeked under her flowing white dress, she was an inch taller than me. Two younger girls trailed behind her, holding the train of her dress.

    "Do I need to repeat myself?"

    I smiled. After the run-in with the Lagos brothers, I¡¯d had time to think of an answer.

    "I sell a lot of things: food, water, mining equipment... and explosives."

    Lady Kateen''s eyes widened.

    "Do you work for the Briggs Family?"

    Briggs? Why did that name sound familiar?

    "Never heard of them."

    "You''re lying. Anissa!"

    The redheaded handmaiden on her right shot to attention.

    "Yes, Lady Kateen," she said in a mousey voice.

    "Give him the document."

    "Yes, my Lady."

    She reached into the white messenger bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a letter stamped with a red wax seal. Anissa scurried forward and bowed, pushing the letter forward with both hands. I took the letter with raised eyebrows. Anissa walked backwards to her Lady''s side, her shoulders slumped and eyes down.

    Kateen flashed her a pleased smile.

    "Isn''t she splendid? A chaste beauty unlike the whores the Lagos brothers have flitting about."

    She paused and gave Victor and Reed a small curtsy.

    "I apologize for my crude words, Special Inquisitor and you, my Lord. You''re too young to hear such things."

    "Please, I''m not that young."

    "I take offence on behalf of the whores," Reed said, snatching an appetizer from the tray of a server she waved over.

    Lady Kateen straightened from her curtsy and turned back to me.

    "Jacob, was it? You''re new in town, so I will give you grace for not coming to me immediately. You now have the opportunity to correct your mistake and pay your respects."

    She gestured to the letter. I broke the seal, opening it to see a document written in High Elvish.

    "What''s this for?"

    "By the rights of the Steeltown Compact negotiated by the Sanctifier Guild, all merchants in Steeltown operate under my protection and with express approval. If you have no connection to the Briggs Family, signing my contract shouldn''t be a problem."

    I looked from Lady Kateen to the contract to Victor and Reed.

    Well played.

    She served her document in front of the official ruler of the Dellends and a Sanctifier Inquisitor. If I refused her, she could have me judged and found guilty before I left the room. I nodded to myself. Lady Kateen was not to be underestimated.

    The contract gave her a cut of any income I earned in the Dellends. In return, I would get protection for my caravans in and out of the region.

    What a scam.

    The countryside of the Dellends was abandoned. There were no beastkin or bandits attacking caravans. Not when a cartel would pay you just to stand around town and act like a guard. If I had to guess, the protection was to make sure merchants couldn''t lie about their inventory and shortchange Kateen. The last clause of the contract proved it. It allowed her to review the financial records of any businesses under her protection.

    Not good.

    It would only take a little digging to figure out I wasn''t a real merchant. If she figured out our real reason for coming here¡­ My anxiety spiked. I needed to stall. I needed to do something!

    "Well, will you sign the contract or not?" Kateen asked.

    Before I could respond, the music stopped. The crowd fell silent as space was cleared in front of the floating centrepiece in the middle of the hall.

    Van Lagos stood alone in that space, holding a golden goblet in his left hand as four guards hauled a large, wooden cask to his side.

    "Friends, Associates, and Steeltowners. The world turns, and you once again find yourself in our not-so-humble home.¡±

    Low, scattered laughter rippled through the crowd.

    ¡°There is much to celebrate. Profits and productivity have never been higher. Each day, we produce more steel for the soldiers of Luskaine, more gold for the country¡¯s coffers and affordable tools for farmers and the common people.¡±

    The crowd cheered.

    ¡°Lady Kateen. Tiny Tom. Step forward."

    Kateen gave me one last withering glare before she turned away, her handmaidens clearing her path to the front of the crowd. Tiny Tom didn''t need any help; the crowd parted for the giant of a man.

    Van Lagos smiled as he saw each member of the Steeltown Compact step forward. The servers worked through the crowd, the food on their trays replaced with metal cups. Two servers handed silver goblets to Lady Kateen and Tiny Tom.

    I picked up a metal cup and worked my way through the crowd to get a better view of the three leaders. The shifty-eyed man I saw with Tiny Tom hung a few steps, a mirror to Finnick Lagos, who was a few steps to the side of Van Lagos.

    A few moments later, Dugan appeared on my right, a cup already in his hand. As the cups were handed out, a guard tapped the cask, screwing a faucet into its side. The guard stepped back to let Van Lagos pour the first cup of rich, red liquid into his goblet. He walked forward into the cleared space, raising it high.

    "To another year of records profits and the Steeltown Compact!"

    "Hear! Hear!"

    The crowd raised their metal cups in salute.

    Van Lagos drank from his goblet, savouring the wine¡¯s flavour with closed eyes. When he opened them, he smiled and scanned the crowd.

    "Come! Drink! Let the party begin!"

    The hall erupted in cheers as orderly lines formed around the cask of wine. Guards carried more casks in through the hall''s entrance.

    Van Lagos laughed, swaying with the music as it picked up again. His movements were sluggish and wild, as if he was struggling to stay above water.

    ¡°Something¡¯s wrong,¡± I whispered.

    It didn''t make sense for a man of his size to be this drunk from one cup of wine. Finnick Lagos noticed as well. He watched his brother with concern and then terror as his head lulled and Van Lagos collapsed on the ground!

    The music cut off. Shrieks rang out as a second person collapsed. The short woman split her head on the edge of a low table, spilling the contents of her cup on the floor.

    "The wine! It''s the wine!"

    Shouts echoed through the hall as partygoers threw their cups on the floor. The guards on the walls unsheathed their weapons, looking for something or someone to attack.

    Between the anxious guards and Kateen, this hall was a trap. I turned to the older woman. She stared at Van Lagos, tightening the grip around her empty goblet as her handmaids held her dress off the wine-stained floor. A few feet away, Tiny Tom stared into his goblet, looking for his common sense.

    Good. At least everyone was distracted.

    The last thing I needed was attention. I hunched my shoulders, making myself small. If I could hide in the crowd, I could avoid Kateen until they let us leave the room. As I worked my way to the front of the hall, I took one last look back. Finnick was shaking his brother¡¯s unconscious body. In the chaos, our eyes locked, and he sneered.

    "It was him! It was the elf!¡±

 The Cursed Lands Part 24

    The crowd fell quiet, tension smothering the room as the partygoers cleared the space between me and Finnick. The guards around the wine casks were frozen, stuck between protecting Van Lagos and Finnick¡¯s shouting.

    "What are you doing?! Get him! Get him now!"

    Three of the guards were shocked to action. They ran at me, fumbling at the scimitars and long knives on their hips.

    So much for hiding.

    "Dugan..."

    "Yeah."

    I loosened my belt sash as Dugan cracked his knuckles.

    Spinning the weighted end of my sash, I launched it as the first guard ripped his scimitar free.

    CLINK!

    The coins slammed against his chin, turning his legs to jelly as he fell face first and slid across the floor. The second guard jumped over his fallen friend with his sword high. I met steel with cloth, wrapping my sash around his wrist before he could swing. I pulled him off balance, tripping him onto his back with a sweep of my leg. I tore the sword from his hands and swatted aside the thrust of the third guard''s long knife. Dugan ran up to his left side, rearranging the attacking guard¡¯s face with a right hook.

    Nice.

    I turned back and drove my stolen scimitar¡¯s pommel into the second guard''s head as he sat up.

    Great, now we just need to escape.

    "Watch out!"

    ¡°Hey, you didn¡¯t stutter that-¡±

    A block of stone crashed into my chest as I turned to face Dugan¡¯s warning. The next moment, I could smell the wine on the floor as I rolled over on my side.

    I blinked away the fog behind my eyes.

    I must have hit my head during the fall.

    Next to me, another stone block pulled itself from the floor. It hovered over my head, controlled by the raised hand of Finnick Lagos.

    "Enough."

    Reed''s voice was tinged with boredom as she leaned against the cask of wine in the middle of the room. Van Lagos'' golden goblet dangled between her fingers. Finnick paused and let the stone block fall next to my head.

    The Inquisitor¡¯s eyes scanned the room, expecting obedience and getting it. The guards sheathed their weapons, and the guests looked away from her firm gaze. Her eyes settled on me, and she flashed a knowing smile. I understood her meaning.

    Power. This is power.

    As I touched my tender chest, I had to admit her idea of power was tempting.

    Reed filled Van Lagos¡¯ goblet with poisoned wine and put it under her nose. She inhaled, inclining her head to consider the smell. A moment later, she drank from the cup!

    The room erupted in collective gasps. The Inquisitor was killing herself!

    Reed swished the wine around her mouth before swallowing it, a thoughtful expression on her face.

    "Tasteless and odorless. My guess is arsenic; it¡¯s available at any foundry in the Industrial Quarter."

    She looked from Van Lagos to the second victim cradled by a man¡ªa friend or lover.

    "The dose of poison must have been high. Finnick, I¡¯m sorry. Your brother won¡¯t survive."

    Finnick ran to his brother¡¯s side and buried his face into the folds of his robes. I almost felt sorry for him as Dugan hauled me to my feet. I would have been more sympathetic if he hadn''t tried to kill me a moment ago.

    ¡°Dugan, let¡¯s move away from the centre,¡± I whispered.

    He did not respond. The scene in front of us held the short man in a trance.

    I waved a hand over his face.

    ¡°Dugan?¡±

    He stepped forward.

    I caught him by his wrist.

    ¡°What are you doing?!"

    "Helping..."

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    "Dugan, if they find out what you can do..."

    I trailed off as he turned to look at me. In his eyes, I saw Kirk, the ruins of my home and Cynthia¡¯s corpse¡ªevery sadness life visited on me was reflected in his face.

    I let go of his wrist.

    "I don''t care."

    I believed him. At that moment, he didn''t care about himself or the quest. The only thing that mattered was two brothers in need.

    Dugan Samaran. Who are you? What have you lost?

    "I can help!" Dugan said as he walked up to the centre of the hall.

    "You! Why would I-"

    Finnick stopped speaking as Reed raised her hand. She narrowed her eyes at Dugan.

    "You risk much."

    "I know."

    She scoffed.

    "It¡¯s your cremation.¡±

    She gestured to Finnick.

    ¡°Step away from Van. Give him a chance."

    Finnick stepped away from his brother and moved to stand next to the other guards near the wine casks.

    Dugan sat down, putting the cartel leader¡¯s head in his lap and cupping his large hands around Van¡¯s temples.

    I moved forward to get a better view, cutting an angle away from Kateen. I could have stood right beside her if I wanted to¡ªall eyes were on Dugan.

    His eyes were closed in a familiar meditative state as the hall hushed to a silence.

    Healing was the ability that was most like Dugan¡ªquiet with no flashy displays of power. There was only the healer, the patient, and the worried faces of the onlookers.

    I was one of them, worried less about Van Lagos and more about us. Frantic whispers echoed off around the hall, and one word was clear over the buzzing: mage.

    We were in the belly of the beast. If they wanted to take Dugan after this stunt, I couldn¡¯t stop them¡ªwouldn¡¯t stop them. I had myself to worry about.

    Slowly, the colour returned to Van Lagos'' face. His eyes darted left and right beneath closed eyelids until those eyelids snapped open.

    There were more shocked gasps as Van Lagos sat up.

    He rolled over to his side to vomit watery red chunks onto the floor.

    Dugan, you did it! Now, how do we get out of this?

    The short man slumped his shoulders, wiping the sweat from his brow as the man cradling the second victim ran to his side.

    "Please, sir! Please help my wife!"

    His hands and blue overcoat were covered with her blood.

    As Dugan got to his feet, I thought of dragging him out of the hall by his beard.

    He sat again, putting the woman''s head into his lap and his hands on her temples. After a moment, he shook his head.

    "I''m sorry. She''s gone."

    The husband crumpled to the floor, weeping over the body of his dead wife.

    Damn.

    It was unlikely that Dugan could have saved her even at his full strength. She had suffered a head wound on top of getting poisoned. Her smaller size also made the dose of poison she ingested more deadly.

    If I knew Dugan, he would still feel guilty. He saved a cartel leader over an innocent bystander. It was a hard choice, but it was the right one. If he had chosen the woman over Van Lagos, we would both be dead now. Killed by a grieving brother and his guards for his selflessness.

    I narrowed my eyes.

    Something was happening to the woman¡¯s body.

    Wisps of golden vapour wafted from the corpse, drawn to the strange floating orb beside the wine casks. The rings around its¡¯ core rotated just a little faster as the golden vapour was consumed.

    The quintessence¡ªher quintessence¡­ the orb absorbed it!

    I wasn''t the only one who noticed: Dugan, Reed, and Finnick all reacted to the soul''s journey¡ªonly us. The guards and guests were focused on Van Lagos and his miraculous return from the dead.

    I remembered what Shay said for the second time that night. The Landbound were enchanted people who let a piece of their souls die. Was that what let us see this?

    My eyes narrowed on the Inquisitor as she poured a second cup of poisoned wine. It wasn¡¯t a surprise that she was Landbound. What could she do? Something that protected her from the poison but didn''t allow her to heal like Dugan.

    As I considered the possibilities, scattered clapping filled the hall.

    Van Lagos had gotten to his feet. His face was bright red and sweat evaporated off his body in wisps of steam. It took me a moment to realize what was happening.

    He¡¯s burning the poison out of his blood!

    How was that possible?! How is any of this possible?!

    I looked around for the exit.

    Van Lagos turned to the crowd surrounding him, doing a double take at Reed drinking out of his goblet. She smiled back at him.

    "This¡­ party is over. Guards, escort them out!"

    He gave a dismissive wave before walking through the hall¡¯s entrance, surrounded by a ring of guards with his brother on his heels.

    As the crowd dispersed, I walked to Dugan''s side. He hadn''t moved from his position, cradling the dead woman''s head in his lap as her husband held her cooling hand.

    "Dugan, we need to go," I whispered.

    His large hands balled into fists in his lap.

    "Dugan, it¡¯s not safe here."

    "You''re right about that," Reed whispered.

    She held the goblet close to her mouth, hiding her lips from me and everyone else. I got the hint, turning back to face Dugan.

    "Even my protection has limits. Never pull a stunt like that again."

    "You don''t have to tell me."

    "Good, because I have another mission for you."

    "How many times do I have to say I don''t work for you?"

    "How long will you deny reality? Someone just made an assassination attempt on a member of the Steeltown Compact. An attack on the Compact is an attack on the Guild. I want you to find out who did it."

    "Isn''t that your job?"

    "An investigator is only as good as their informants, and if you haven''t noticed, I attract a lot of attention."

    "So, misdirection. While the assassin is focused on you, they don''t see me coming."

    "Yes. Although, I don¡¯t know how discreet a half-elf dressed like a noble will be. Anyways, try not to die."

    She walked away, pushing Van Lagos'' goblet into the hands of a flustered guard.

    "Hey, I didn''t agree to do it!"

    She looked back at me, smiled and sauntered out of the hall.

    That woman¡­

    My outburst attracted a few eyes, including Kateen, who glared at me from the front of the hall.

    Oh great, I forgot about her.

    I knelt next to Dugan.

    "Dugan. Come on, let''s go!" I said in a harsher whisper.

    "Her soul..."

    He turned, looking past me to stare at the large, floating orb.

    "I fffelt her soul being ripped from her body. It didn''t go to the land. It went into that... thing."

    A chill ran up my spine. The orb was hungry¡ªhungrier now after it absorbed the woman¡¯s soul.

    "We need to move."

    Dugan let me pull him to his feet. I took him by the arm and dragged him across the hall.

    "Will you sign the contract or-"

    I walked past Lady Kateen before she could finish. I had enough things to worry about, an Inquisitor that didn¡¯t take no for an answer, an enchanted orb stealing souls and keeping Dugan safe from being kidnapped and worse.

    As we exited the hall, the guards lining the corridor took one step forward.

    One of them, an older man with an ugly scar that puckered his face, blocked our path. The scar set his face into a permanent sneer.

    "The Lagos brothers want to speak to you."

    Great, one more thing to worry about.

 The Cursed Lands Part 25

    We walked down a winding series of stone corridors, escorted by five guards in front and behind us. If the hall was the belly of the beast, these were the intestines.

    Dragging Dugan along by the arm, I wondered what to expect from the meeting with the Lagos brothers.

    Finnick hated me, but Van was different. Talking to him was like two cats circling each other. There was sincere curiosity as we probed for weaknesses. How could there not be? He¡¯d never met an ¡°elf,¡± and I didn¡¯t know how to create fire that didn¡¯t burn.

    Dugan still had a distant expression on his face. His relationship with the Lagos brothers was also complicated. He outed himself as a mage but saved Van Lagos'' life. That had to count for something.

    Our escort stopped at a pair of thick wooden doors. The older guard knocked on it.

    It cracked open to reveal a woman in similar patchwork leather armour. She was the first female guard I had seen in Steeltown, with olive skin, an attractive diamond face, and long, black hair that she wore in a braided ponytail. She looked at us, nodded to the older guard and opened the door.

    We were led into a sitting room with expensive red sofas and chairs around a low, rectangular table. Van Lagos sat with his legs spread wide on a long sofa. Finnick sat in a chair next to his brother. Rose-scented candles lit the room, making the scene¡­ intimate.

    Van waved us in.

    "Please sit."

    I scanned the room before sitting down with Dugan on a sofa across from Van Lagos.

    "Lira, leave us."

    "But-"

    He turned to her; one eyebrow raised.

    "As you wish."

    She slinked out of the room without a sound.

    Quiet that one. Quiet and deadly.

    Van Lagos let out a long, exasperated sigh.

    "What a night! HAHAHAHA!"

    He reached for a glass decanter on the table and poured water into a crystal cup.

    ¡°Only water for me for the next week.¡±

    ¡°Sobriety doesn¡¯t suit you, brother. I doubt you last a day.¡±

    Van Lagos recoiled as if punched.

    ¡°A day?! Do you think so little of our older brother? I¡¯ll bet you two hundred gold pieces that I do it.¡±

    ¡°Three hundred.¡±

    ¡°Deal!¡±

    Van Lagos poured another glass of water and handed it to Finnick, who lapped it up like a cat.

    I blinked at the brothers. I didn¡¯t expect them to be so¡­ lively.

    Van Lagos poured two more glasses of water.

    "I thank you for saving my life. Drink?"

    I stared at the crystal cups. Reed had said arsenic was odourless and tasteless; would it also be colourless? Poisons were a blind spot in my training. Sin avoided them¡ªshe said it took the fun out of killing.

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    Van Lagos burst out laughing.

    ¡°Look at his face, brother!¡±

    Finnick narrowed his eyes at me.

    ¡°He calculates¡­¡±

    ¡°As would any man, tonight has shown us that drinking can be a deadly habit.¡±

    Van leaned back into the sofa, taking a long sip from his cup.

    ¡°Ah! Now, were we?¡±

    ¡°You were thanking Dugan.¡±

    I glanced at him. Dugan was still out of it, staring at the cups on the table.

    "What¡¯s going to happen to him?"

    Van shrugged.

    "He¡¯ll enjoy the hospitality of our estate."

    "I mean, what will you do to him?"

    Van Lagos¡¯s eyes turned hard. He bared his teeth, long canines glinting in the candlelight.

    "Do you know what we are?"

    I paused. An unseen tension filled the room. One wrong move¡ªone wrong word, and there would be blood. The word was caught in my throat. It was one thing to say it. Another thing to say that word to someone''s face.

    "Foulborn," Dugan said.

    Finnick scowled. Van smiled.

    "A nasty word for a nasty business. We are many things, but we will not make another child go through what we went through."

    His lips curled in distaste.

    "Raised from childhood to be a weapon. Do you know what that¡¯s like?"

    "I do."

    Van Lagos narrowed his eyes.

    "Why do I believe you?"

    "You¡¯re a great judge of character.¡±

    He paused for a long moment and then¡­ laughed.

    ¡°I like you, Jacob! The Eyes of Dahl never lie.¡±

    ¡°What are the Eyes of Dahl?¡±

    Van Lagos raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°These Luskainians are savages!¡± Finnick said.

    ¡°Calm, brother. They are ignorant of Dahlgeshi history.¡±

    I perked up¡ªThe chance to learn Dahlgeshi history. Many scholars would trade their left leg for the opportunity.

    ¡°I would love to learn if you let me.¡±

    Van Lagos turned to his brother.

    ¡°See ignorant, not savages.¡±

    ¡°I see little difference.¡±

    Van sighed before turning back to me and Dugan.

    ¡°When the elves invaded from the North, they enslaved the beastkin and forced them to bear human children.¡±

    ¡°Heh! In a way, humans were the first foulborn,¡± Finnick said.

    ¡°Of the beastkin that escaped, many wandered into the great desert at the heart of our country. The elves, too lazy to pursue, cursed the desert, renaming it the Ashen Sea. They wanted to kill the beastkin with heat¡ªcremate them down to their bones. Instead, the beastkin were transformed.¡±

    Van Lagos smiled.

    ¡°When the humans rebelled against the Elvish Empire, a group of slaves, led by a woman called Gesh, escaped into the Ashen Sea, and met these beastkin. The humans called them Dahl for their hardiness, and together, they became the Dahlgesh.¡±

    I nodded along. It was a creation myth for their nation that was similar in many ways to our own. While their myth was themed around fire, ours was themed around water¡ªopposite elements that were now at war. Maybe it was destiny.

    ¡°But what are the Eyes of Dahl?¡±

    Van Lagos laughed.

    ¡°How could I forget the most important part?! When the humans discovered the Dahl, their eyes had turned orange like the setting sun, a symbol of them defeating the heat.¡±

    ¡°Quelling the fire.¡±

    Van Lagos smirked.

    ¡°Just so. In every Dahlgeshi flows the blood of Dahl, the one tribe of beastkin never conquered by the elves. Among us, a rare few bear the Eyes of Dahl, a symbol of their eternal defiance.¡±

    I let that sink in. I''d never thought too much about my orange eyes. It was usually my ears that got the attention. Yet, my connection to these beastkin had to be more than chance.

    "Could you guide me to Dahlgesh one day?"

    Finnick spit out his water.

    Van Lagos raised both eyebrows.

    "Your interest in my country is admirable, but¡­ we can¡¯t go back.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    The brothers exchanged looks.

    ¡°Brother¡­ don¡¯t do it.¡±

    ¡°Our new friend wants to know. What¡¯s the harm?¡±

    Van unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a tattoo of a four-winged insect on his muscled chest.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°A dragonfly. The symbol of the crime lord that owns us and his way of tracking us.¡±

    I thought back to Rugar''s sewing needle pinned to my coat. It made sense that there was more than one way to skin a cat.

    ¡°We escaped his service, but his reach is far. So, we made like the Lagos bird and flew North. As long as we stay in Luskaine, we¡¯re free.¡±

    Ironic. The only place they were free was enemy territory.

    ¡°It¡¯s late. Let¡¯s end this,¡± Finnick said.

    ¡°Yes. I¡¯ll have guest rooms prepared for you both. Lira!¡±

    The woman burst into the room, one hand on her sword handle.

    ¡°Van Lagos?!¡±

    ¡°Show my friends to the guest suites.¡±

    I raised my hand.

    "If it''s all the same, we were already staying somewhere else."

    Van Lagos arched an eyebrow.

    "Is that so? Then, I will send out the word. Dugan is under the protection of the Lagos brothers. While you are in Steeltown, no harm will come to you."

    Dugan nodded.

    ¡°T-Thank you.¡±

    ¡°A life for a life. Right, brother?¡±

    Finnick grit his teeth and nodded.

    That was the closest thing we could expect for an apology.

    ¡°Excellent. Lira, get some guards to escort them home.¡±

    Lira looked from Van Lagos to me and Dugan, releasing her white-knuckle grip on the sword handle.

    ¡°We¡¯ll leave immediately.¡±

    I sank back into the sofa.

    We did it. We survived¡­ again.

 The Cursed Lands Part 26

    Lira led us through the estate¡¯s winding corridors with an escort of guards on our heels. My attention was split between Dugan trailing a few steps behind me and her swaying braid in front.

    The woman¡¯s footsteps made no sound, and the more I tried to understand it, the less it made any sense. Were her boots enchanted?

    I checked over my shoulder for the sixth time since our walk began. Dugan was walking by himself now, but he still had that haunted look in his eye from whatever happened in the hall. Hopefully, a night of rest would help him recover.

    A chill ran up my spine thinking back to that sculpture. I would need to talk to Isla about that or maybe Shay if I got the chance.

    The last bit of tension in my shoulders melted away as we reached the entrance of the estate. The wide doors were left open as guards and servants flitted in and out of the building.

    Lira called two servants over, sending them with lanterns into the moonless darkness to get our horses from the stables. The way the servants and other guards deferred to her told me a lot about her position in the cartel. A lot, but not enough.

    "How long have you worked for the Lagos brothers?" I asked.

    She turned from the front entrance, giving me a sidelong glance.

    "Since they smuggled themselves under the border."

    ¡°Under? Not over?¡±

    ¡°The best smugglers tunnel underground, and the Lagos brothers are the best.¡±

    "That must help with the mining.¡±

    ¡°It does. Finnick is a master of Earth Landbound Magic.¡±

    I rubbed my sore chest.

    ¡°I noticed."

    A throaty chuckle escaped her lips.

    So I could crack her shell.

    "He overacted. Finnick is usually less¡­ erratic. The brothers exist in a balance. Van is fire. Finnick is Earth. Van is reckless. Finnick is cautious."

    "I see."

    She turned back to the darkness. I left Dugan leaning on the wall to walk a wide circle behind Lira until I was beside her. I took in the view of the night sky.

    "Are you alright?"

    She stared at me with eyes as hard as flint.

    "Someone tried to kill Van Lagos tonight. That person is going to die. By the rules of the Compact¡ªa life for a life.¡±

    She folded her arms before looking ahead.

    ¡°I won¡¯t rest until it happens.¡±

    A fanatical sense of loyalty. She would be a deadly mage with all that conviction.

    "Who do you think did it?"

    Her face twisted into a frown.

    "That¡¯s for me to figure out.¡±

    I nodded.

    Fine, be that way.

    ¡°It¡¯s all yours.¡±

    I stopped to consider the possible suspects: Who would benefit from Van Lagos'' death? Steeltown had three other big players: the Sanctifiers, Lady Kateen, and Tiny Tom.

    I could rule out the Sanctifiers. The attack on Van Lagos was a direct attack on their authority.

    As much as I wanted to blame Lady Kateen, she had a symbiotic relationship with the mining cartels. But why hadn''t she filled her cup with wine?

    There was also Tiny Tom. He didn''t look like the type to kill someone with poisoned wine, but maybe that was the point. His persona could be a misdirection to make others underestimate him.

    Wait a minute. I was working on the Inquisitor¡¯s case!

    I frowned.

    As much as I hated to admit it, Reed understood me. Leave a puzzle half-finished, and my mind would work to solve it.

    What about Isla? Did I want to solve her mystery? No, I spent most of my time trying not to think about her, and my system was working¡­ mostly.

    "Your horses are here," Lira said. ¡°Where are you staying?¡±

    # # #

    With the Lagos guards as escorts, we rode back to the Pit without any issues. The events in the inn were winding down, with drunken johns shuffled out the doors by the extra muscle Cassandra hired for nights.

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    As I walked to the second-floor staircase, Cassandra waved at us from a table in the dining area. We walked to her, dodging chairs and fresh vomit that would be cleaned up later that night.

    She smoked from a thin, wooden pipe, dividing out shares of gold pieces.

    "Is something wrong?"

    "I don''t think so. A runner from the Sanctifiers Guild wanted to give you a message from Isla."

    "Oh, OK."

    "She says she found some good reading. She and Castille are staying overnight at the Guildhall."

    Her gaze lingered on us, looking for a reaction. I kept my face neutral as I nodded.

    "OK, thanks for telling us."

    I waited until we were on the second floor to give Dugan a worried look.

    He glanced back at me with a reassuring stare that said everything would be fine.

    I hoped so.

    I didn''t like half our party being under Sanctifier supervision, not with Reed digging into Isla''s past. Why was I worried? She could take care of herself. Besides, Castille was with her.

    For once, I should look on the bright side. It sounded like Isla had found a lead to break the curse. The sooner that happened, the better. Our cover was close to being blown, if not by Kateen, then by any number of people at tonight¡¯s party. Even Cassandra was getting suspicious.

    I changed out of my clothes and hung up my new jacket on a wooden hanger. As I lay in bed, I realized something.

    I just talked to Dugan without speaking.

    # # #

    The next morning, I met an exhausted Isla in the master suite with Castille and Dugan sitting propped up in the bed. Thor was laid out snoring on the floor.

    Castille had been lax in her guard duty, sleeping through the night at the Guildhall as Isla was busy at work. She beamed as she laid out her neat pile of notes on the bed¡¯s silken sheets.

    "They don''t let you take documents out of the Guildhall, so I had to copy them by hand."

    The dark circles under her eyes offset her wide smile.

    "You must have had a busy night."

    She turned her nose up.

    "It was very productive."

    I smirked.

    "So, half as productive as me and Dugan."

    She laughed.

    "I doubt it.¡±

    I spent the next twenty minutes explaining what happened last night, excluding Reed''s request to investigate Isla.

    Her jaw dropped.

    "You had a private audience with the Lagos brothers!"

    "I''m more upset Dugan has been outed," Castille said, running a consoling hand through the man¡¯s hair.

    "Did we screw up?"

    "No! No. This is good," Isla said, pacing around the room. "That''s our way into Brimspoke mountains."

    "Isla, quit your pacing and tell them what we learned," Castille said.

    Isla walked up to the bed and picked up the first page from the pile.

    "It''s just a guess, but I think I know who''s behind the curse. His name is Nostrand Del."

    "Del. Like the Dellends?"

    "Yes, he was one of the last kings of the region."

    "Before Peter Luskaine wiped out the entire royal line," Castille said.

    Isla crossed her arms.

    "They were doing a fine enough job without his help."

    She turned to me.

    "Nostrand Del was killed by his seven half-elven sons, who then fought a civil war amongst themselves for the throne. Their kingdom was so weakened by the succession war that Peter Luskaine was able to take their city with almost no losses."

    "And how does one get seven half-elven sons?" Castille asked.

    It was a rhetorical question, one that made Isla squirm. She looked at me, and I nodded for her to go ahead. I could already guess the answer.

    "He had an interest in elvish slaves. Traders from across the continent would visit Del to sell him their stock.¡±

    Her face tinged a sickly shade of green.

    ¡°It wasn''t all about¡­ sex. They also helped him with what he was most known for."

    "What was that?"

    "Enchantment. The historical accounts call Nostrand Del a genius enchanter and a master of spoken High Song."

    My mind flashed to the floating orb from the Lagos brothers¡¯ party.

    "What kind of enchanted objects did he create?"

    "We don''t know. Not many of his notes survived the succession war and Peter Luskaine¡¯s conquest."

    "I bet there¡¯s a whole stack of those notes squirrelled away somewhere in the Sanctifier Guildhall.¡±

    "Do you think they would go that far?"

    "I do, but we don''t need to hunt that game. Not yet. We already have a lead."

    I turned to Dugan. Some rest had helped his condition, but his eyes were still vacant and unfocused.

    "The orb..." Isla whispered.

    I nodded.

    "Van Lagos told me it was pulled out of the Brimspoke mountains by the old cartel leaders. If something like that is down there-"

    "What or who else is waiting to be found?"

    Isla¡¯s tired eyes sparkled with rekindled enthusiasm.

    "It''s a good thing you¡¯re friends with Van Lagos now," Castille said.

    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t say friends¡­"

    She clapped her hands together.

    "OK! Let''s review. What are the facts?¡±

    Isla paced the room, stopping at the sleeping Thor before walking back to me.

    ¡°Nostrand Del was a genius enchanter who was killed by his sons. Since then, nobles have been unable to bond to the land, and the land has been cursed. The curse originates from Brimspoke Mountains, where enchanted objects have been recently found.¡±

    I chimed in.

    ¡°If Nostrand Del survived, that would explain why the nobles can¡¯t bond to the land-¡±

    ¡°And an enchanted artifact could be keeping him alive and powering the curse.¡±

    Isla cupped her chin.

    ¡°But what''s the purpose of the curse?"

    "Revenge against his sons?"

    "Then why would the curse have benefits? No, it must be more than that. Nostrand Del is planning something."

    A plan that spanned over a hundred years. The idea made me shiver. Mother Geslin was right. Something terrible was going to happen here.

    Isla sighed.

    "We shouldn''t have let this fester for so long."

    I shrugged.

    "It''s not like it''s your responsibility.¡±

    Castille sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed to put on her boots.

    "Either way, the path is clear. We will investigate Brimspoke Mountains and learn the truth about Nostrand Del and this curse.¡±

    She grinned at me.

    ¡°We just need a convincing reason for Van Lagos to let us investigate the mines."

    ¡°I¡¯ll think of something.¡±

    Off to the side of the bed, Thor shook himself awake and stared at the door. A moment later¡­

    KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

    "Hello! It''s Denise."

    Castille nodded. I walked to the door, cracking it open to see the young woman we first met at the Pit. She was sweating. Her wide eyes darted around before fixing on my face.

    "What''s wrong?"

    "There''s a crowd outside! Cassandra is trying to hold them back, but the security from last night already left."

    Her wild, dark-circled eyes tried to look past me.

    "Is what they say true?! Is Dugan a mage?!"

    Castille jumped off the bed, grabbing the sword belt slung over her headboard.

    With practiced efficiency, she tied it around her waist and walked up to the door.

    She turned back to look at Dugan, Isla and Thor.

    "You three stay here. Jacob, you''re with me."

    I nodded, resting my right hand on the cane on my hip. After last night, I felt naked without it.

    As we hurried down the stairs, I realized I left my new jacket in my room. That made me feel naked in a different way. I was going into battle without armour, dressed like Castille in a white shirt and black pants.

    At the entrance of the Pit, Cassandra stood tall at the doors with both hands held high.

    "Cassandra!"

    Cassandra turned to look at Castille. A large gash was above her left eyebrow, dripping blood into her eye.

    That was the last straw.

    We rushed forward, longsword and short sword drawn. Ready to cut down whoever was outside the doors.

    And what we saw terrified us.

 The Cursed Lands Part 27

    In front of the Pit were almost a hundred of Steeltown¡¯s forgotten, those too old or too sick to work. They bore the scars of their time in the Dellends, with putrid lesions, scalps missing clumps of hair, and lead-darkened skin. What little clothes they wore hung loose on their thin, unwashed frames.

    Some of them shouted.

    "Healer! Send out the healer!"

    Others were mute, staring at us with vacant, pleading eyes.

    I turned to Castille. For the first time since I met her, she was at a loss for words.

    "I told them there was no healer, but they won''t listen to me!" Cassandra said. She moved behind Castille as the warrior took point at the doors.

    "Where are the guards?!" Castille asked.

    "Hungover. It¡¯s too early for them to patrol."

    Castille fell into her stance, raising her sword at the ready. While some of the crowd stepped back, others shuffled forward, carrying everything from chair legs to rocks. They didn¡¯t stand a chance. If nothing was done, there would be a bloodbath.

    Across the street, Reed leaned against the doors of Sanctifier Guildhall, dressed in her all-black uniform. Beside her was a long, two-handed club tall enough to reach her shoulders. In the morning light, its¡¯ blackened iron shined, with short spikes running halfway down its length. Was this the stick she was talking about?

    I didn¡¯t have time to ask.

    She was watching the crowd with crossed arms, making no effort to move. If a fight broke out, at least she would back us up¡ªrelief washed over me and then disgust.

    "LLLet me go to them."

    While we were focused on the front door, Dugan had crept down the stairs. Isla and Thor stayed on the second floor, looking down on us between the wooden beams of railing.

    Cassendra''s eyes widened, looking from Dugan to me and Castille.

    "When were you going to tell me Dugan was a mage?!¡±

    "Ideally, never," I said.

    She scowled.

    ¡°Do you know how many of my girls need healing? How many people in town?!"

    "Dugan..." Castille said, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "If you go out there, you''ll be torn apart."

    "Have fffaith, Castille."

    "In what?! People?"

    "In me."

    Castille lowered her sword as she turned her full attention to Dugan. I did the same. The haunted look on his face was gone. His eyes shined with determination. Conviction. Isla''s words from a month ago rang in my mind. If Dugan''s conviction was strong enough, he could do what he couldn''t do last night: save more than one life.

    "Castille, we should let him try."

    ¡°EEEEEYAAAAAHHH!¡±

    A chorus of shrieks and screams erupted outside. Our heads snapped to the front doors as Van Lagos rode through the crowd on a tall white steed. His horse trampled men, women and children¡ªthe flaming scimitar in his left hand cut and seared flesh with each swing. Fifty Lagos guards on foot followed their leader, forming a loose circle around the crowd. Four guards on horseback, including Lira, hung back at the side.

    Dugan pushed Castille out of the way to run into the slaughter.

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    "STOP! VAN LAGOS, STOP!"

    Van Lagos pulled on the reins of his horse, smiling as his flaming scimitar buried itself in some poor man¡¯s head.

    "Ah, Dugan! Good morning! I was in town on business when I heard about the trouble. I came to help."

    He emphasized the point by yanking the sword free, letting the man¡¯s body crumple to the ground.

    "Van! Please! Enough! That''s enough."

    He gave Dugan a puzzled look, shrugging with his arms wide.

    "What?! I was helping."

    The Dahlgeshi extinguished his flaming sword. He dismounted, stepping on the back of one of the trampled men. Van Lagos clapped Dugan on his shoulder, walking past the speechless man to hand the horse¡¯s reigns to one of his guards.

    He walked up the stairs of the Pit, quirking an eyebrow at me and Castille¡¯s drawn weapons.

    "Jacob, who is your friend? Another bodyguard like Dugan?"

    I picked my jaw off the floor.

    "Uh, yeah. This is Castille."

    She sheathed her sword, going rigid as Van cupped her right hand and bowed, pressing his forehead against her knuckles.

    "The spirits have blessed me to be in the presence of such a beautiful woman."

    She frowned.

    ¡°Thanks?"

    ¡°You¡¯re most welcome.¡±

    He brushed past us to look for a table in the dining area.

    I turned to Castille.

    She shrugged, looking outside at the writhing mass of bodies. Dugan and the uninjured members of the crowd were separating the injured and the dead. Most guards had wandered off, leaving only ten standing to one side. They held the horses for Lira and the three other mounted guards as they walked to the Pit¡¯s doors. On the other side of the street, Reed was gone.

    "I''ll stay with Dugan. You deal with Van Lagos."

    I nodded, sheathing my short sword and locking it in place with a twist.

    Castille marched past Lira and the guards on the Pit¡¯s stairs.

    Lira narrowed her eyes at the Northern woman before turning back to me.

    "I apologize for the ugliness out front.¡±

    ¡°Do you do that often? Apologize for him?¡±

    A faint smile spread on her face.

    ¡°Less than you expect.¡±

    "Hmm. Well, he saved us from that mob."

    At what cost? I caught glimpses of Dugan over the guards¡¯ shoulders. He was healing a trampled old woman. The only thing Van Lagos had done was make Dugan''s job harder. At this rate, he would burn through all his will by noon.

    The Lagos guards walked past me to Van Lagos, who was seated at a table near the back wall. Cassandra brought him a glass of water while Denise stayed far away at the bar. Isla and Thor were no longer at the second floor¡¯s railing. Something about the Dahlgeshi made her more anxious than usual.

    She was overreacting. We¡¯d saved his life. Well, Dugan had saved his life. He couldn¡¯t turn on his saviours¡ªat least not publicly. His feline gaze fixed on me as I navigated through the tables and chairs to where he sat, and I second-guessed myself.

    Why was he here? If he was just passing through on business, why take a seat?

    I meet his eyes. The broad smile on his face was friendly, but friendliness is not friendship.

    "Please sit," he said, kicking out a chair.

    I sat down. The guards around us stayed standing. They surrounded me like a pride of lions, cutting off my escape routes.

    "My brother and Lira told me what happened while I was unconscious. You took out three of my men-¡±

    Hey, Dugan helped.

    ¡°And you have weapons hidden on your body."

    He looked down at the cane at my hip as if he could see through the table.

    "Who are you, Jacob?"

    "A merchant."

    He sighed.

    "Your lie was cute the first time but less so the second. I''ll give you one more chance... Who are you, and why are you here?"

    Van Lagos tapped his finger on the table, leaving a smoking burn mark where it landed. His smile no longer met his eyes. They were flat and hard¡ªthe eyes of a killer. Steel whispered on leather as the guards behind me unsheathed their scimitars.

    My heart beat faster. Sweat leaked from my skin like blood from a thousand wounds. I schooled my face, putting on a neutral mask while my mind climbed the walls.

    A cover! A cover! I need a new cover!

    It needed to be believable. A way to get us into the mountains while explaining away my first lie.

    It came to me in a flash of inspiration, a lie so crazy you had to believe it.

    "I¡¯m an agent of the Forest Enclave of elves. My team and I were sent to recover artifacts from the Old Elvish Empire."

    Van Lagos narrowed his eyes as he tapped on the table, burning a hole in the wooden surface.

    I stared back at him, ignoring the sweat dripping down my armpits.

    Finally, he smiled.

    "See! All I wanted was the truth!¡±

    He leaned back into his chair, relaxing as if he hadn¡¯t just threatened to kill me.

    ¡°Is that why you were so interested in the orb?"

    "Oh, uh¡­ yeah!"

    ¡°Hmm.¡±

    Van Lagos looked off to the side, scratching at his close-cut beard.

    This was my chance.

    "Van, in return for saving your life, my team wants to explore the Brimspoke mountains to recover whatever artifacts we can find."

    Van Lagos turned back to me, pausing before he spoke.

    "That can be arranged, but you are mistaken about one thing."

    "What''s that?"

    "My debt to Dugan has already been paid. In return for my life, he is under my protection. By now, everyone in town knows Dugan is a mage. Without me, his continued safety and well-being are not guaranteed."

    "Did you see that mob? It¡¯s not guaranteed now."

    "Of course, there are undesirables who ignore the social order, but as you can see, I''ve dealt with them and will continue to do so while you stay in Steeltown. Your team¡¯s access to the mountains and mines under it will require another service."

    "Which is?"

    "I want you to kill someone for me."

 The Cursed Lands Part 28

    I raised my eyebrows.

    Kill someone?

    Of course, that¡¯s what a weapon was for. Van Lagos knew me¡ªknew what I was. I stifled a laugh.

    ¡°Who do you want me to kill?¡±

    Van Lagos smiled.

    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit! I want you to kill the man who tried to kill me, Arwen Tillman."

    Arwen? Why was that name familiar?

    "Who''s he?"

    "At the party, did you see a blonde man with a widow''s peak, always close to Tiny Tom?"

    Yes, I did. He was the man with that nervous look on his face.

    "I did. What makes you think he¡¯s the one who poisoned the wine?"

    Behind me, Lira spoke.

    "He has the motivation and the means. When the Lagos brothers came to power, our enemies formed a rival mining cartel led by Tiny Tom Harwick¡ªArwen¡¯s nephew. Tom is the face of the cartel, but Arwen is the one who pulls the strings.¡±

    I nodded. It was a good bit of misdirection.

    ¡°Normally, planning or performing acts of violence against other Steeltown Compact signers is impossible but-¡±

    ¡°Tom is the one who signed the Compact. Arwen is free to do what he wants as long as Tom is left in the dark.¡±

    ¡°Just so.¡± Van Lagos said. ¡°You understand quickly, Jacob.¡±

    Lira cleared her throat.

    ¡°As for the means, the poison was industrial-grade arsenic¡ªcommonly used in copper smelting. Tom''s cartel just so happens to control most of the copper smelting plants in the Industrial Quarter."

    I cupped my chin. The circumstantial evidence was convincing, but I had questions.

    ¡°Why did he try to kill you now?¡±

    Van Lagos shrugged.

    ¡°There¡¯s that new Inquisitor in town. Maybe he thinks he can get a better deal from her, or maybe he got tired of looking at my face.¡±

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    ¡°Impossible,¡± Lira whispered.

    Get a room.

    I crossed my arms.

    ¡°Wouldn''t killing Arwen eventually break the pact anyway?"

    Van Lagos smirked as he shook his head.

    "There¡¯s a clause in the pact: the right of retribution. It allows me to move against the suspect of the assassination attempt while maintaining the Compact."

    "Why would the Sanctifiers allow that?¡±

    "Because they understand us. When our blood is hot, we don''t want to wait months for Sanctifier justice. In their infinite wisdom, the Sanctifiers have given us an outlet to seek revenge without Steeltown breaking out into all-out war."

    I remembered what Reed said to me last night. Instead of punishing Van Lagos¡¯ thirst for vengeance, the Steeltown Compact gave him what he wanted, directed in a neat and orderly way. There might even be paperwork.

    I frowned.

    ¡°Why me? Why are you asking me to do this?¡±

    ¡°We thought it best that an outsider takes this job¡ªsomeone free of our politics,¡± Lira said.

    ¡°So, I¡¯m a scapegoat?¡±

    ¡°Only if you fail,¡± Van Lagos said.

    I nodded.

    "So? Will you do it?" He asked.

    Could I do it? Could I kill a man in cold blood? Of course! But did Arwen do the crime? The evidence is circumstantial, with nothing tying him directly to the act. Van Lagos and Lira could be lying to me, turning me into a pawn in their game.

    At that moment, I had an unsettling thought¡ªa way everyone could win. Everyone except Arwen.

    "What if I capture him alive and hand him over to the Inquisitor? If he''s guilty like you say, she''ll get him to talk, and you can have whatever is left."

    Van Lagos quirked an eyebrow.

    "Are you trying to avoid a guilty conscience?"

    "One weapon to another. My conscience is guilty enough."

    Van Lagos stared at me for a long moment before speaking.

    "It¡¯s a deal.¡±

    He stretched out his hand. I took it as he stood up.

    ¡°Be quick about your work, Jacob. Steeltown is preparing for war. The longer you wait, the harder it will be to extract Arwen."

    Van Lagos walked away without another word, sharing a quiet exchange with Cassandra before walking out of the inn with Lira and the rest of his guards.

    I exhaled, slouching in my chair.

    Spirits below! Was it always going to be like this?! Surviving by the skin of my teeth!

    I took slow, deep breaths, calming my beating heart. I tugged on the front of my shirt, letting in pockets of air down the collar to dry myself.

    I''d done it! I tricked the most powerful man in town again and found a way to get our party into the mountains. All we had to do was kidnap the second-most powerful man in town. When I said it like that¡­

    CLINK!

    Cassandra placed a glass of cool water in front of me.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°You look like you need it.¡±

    I lifted it to my lips, pausing as I noticed that Van Lagos had not drunk from his glass.

    ¡°Is there something wrong with the water?¡±

    Cassandra took Van¡¯s glass and flashed a wry smile.

    ¡°People don¡¯t trust the water here. You never know what¡¯s in it.¡±

    I put the glass down and pushed it away from me.

    Cassandra laughed, and then her face turned grim.

    "What¡¯s wrong?"

    "Jacob. I have twelve girls under this roof who count on me to keep them safe. I can''t have mobs beating down my doors or cartel leaders strutting around like they own the place. Do you understand?"

    "I''m sorry, Cassandra. I didn''t expect it to go like this."

    She stared at me, an incredulous look on her face.

    "How did you expect it to go?! Look¡­ I''m not stupid. Isla spending late nights at the Guildhall, Dugan being a mage, the way Castille orders you, her boss, around and now, whatever business you have with Van Lagos. You¡¯re up to something¡ªsomething big, but can you promise me one thing?"

    "What?"

    "Promise me that me and my girls won¡¯t get caught up in whatever you''re doing."

    I met her eyes and nodded.

    "I promise."

    Another lie. I was getting good at that.

 The Cursed Lands Part 29

    I got to my feet and walked to the front of the Pit. Denise was staring out the window with wide-eyed amazement. Dugan had healed three people from the crowd to full health, fixing not only broken bones but also the symptoms of heavy metal poisoning.

    Still going strong, huh?

    Conviction was an amazing thing. If only I had it. The day had just started, and I was already exhausted. I sighed and dragged myself to my room.

    I opened the door to see Thor lounging on the floor and Isla sitting cross-legged on the bed, reading her notes. Her dark-circled eyes looked up at me, waiting.

    "I have our way into the mines."

    Her eyes lit up.

    "That''s great, Jacob! Wait¡­ what''s the catch?"

    I rubbed the back of my neck as I closed the door.

    "It''s a good thing you''re sitting down."

    # # #

    Isla stared at me slack jawed.

    "So, we¡¯re just¡­ just¡­ lapdogs for the Lagos brothers now?!"

    She threw the paper she was holding to emphasize her point. It flipped in the air and slapped her in the face.

    I laughed despite myself.

    ¡°Think of the upside. Once we get to the mountains, we''ll be one step closer to finishing this quest."

    "We just have to kidnap someone first."

    "Van thinks he''s guilty. Reed will make sure."

    "That''s just an execution with extra steps. Inquisitors care more about closing cases than finding the truth."

    She closed her eyes, rubbing the bridge of her nose. I used to have the same opinion of Inquisitors, but Reed was different. She preferred a light touch.

    "You should get some sleep; I¡¯ll do some scouting on Arwen after I eat something."

    Isla''s eyes snapped open.

    "You can''t do that alone."

    "Castille and Dugan are busy out front, and you need to rest after your all-nighter."

    She shook her head.

    "I¡¯m coming."

    "Won''t the lack of sleep affect your will?"

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    "Yes, I¡¯ll have less will, but I''ve managed before. I don''t want you out on the streets without backup."

    I smiled at her.

    "I didn''t know you cared."

    Isla rolled her eyes.

    "Please take this seriously. This town is on the brink of war. The last thing we need is a party member bleeding out alone in some alleyway. Let me cover you."

    I stopped to consider her. Some backup wouldn''t hurt. What about Thor? The boar was passed out on the floor. At least someone was getting some sleep.

    "Fine. Don¡¯t slow me down."

    A slight smile spread on her tired face.

    I reached for my new jacket, pulling it off the hanger.

    "And how are you doing to sneak around wearing that?" Isla asked.

    I slipped it on. The hunger woven into the threads reminded me of my empty stomach.

    "I''ll show you."

    I burned my will, activating the jacket¡¯s enchantment. She yelped as her gaze jerked away from me.

    After that moment of surprise, she shut her eyes and crawled off the bed. Isla shuffled toward me, groping the empty air.

    I stifled a laugh, pressing myself flat against the wall. Isla walked closer until her hands grabbed the unbuttoned opening of the garment.

    "I got you!"

    She opened those piercing blue eyes, staring up at me while she pinned me to the wall.

    "I was right! Touching you nullifies the effect."

    I couldn¡¯t look away from her¡ªdidn¡¯t want to. My face flushed red.

    "You''re a genius."

    She flashed a bashful smile.

    "I had good teachers."

    # # #

    After getting dressed, we walked down the main floor of the Pit. More of the girls were awake, crowding around the front windows.

    Dugan was healing his tenth person from the crowd. A layer of sweat covered his face, but he had not faltered. Castille enlisted Cassandra, Denise and a few of the other girls to tend to those in the crowd who suffered from minor wounds.

    "Incredible will," Isla said, staring at Dugan from the window.

    "Yeah, he seems fired up."

    "Conviction. I see..."

    Isla trailed off.

    I left her to ponder. I had better things to do. I went around the bar to find some plates. It was easy, with everyone focused outside. Setting the plates on a table, I laid out the rations I took from Thor''s saddlebags. After a few minutes, Isla joined me. We ate quickly. I wanted to scout, and she was hungry from her all-nighter.

    Leaving the Pit, I waved over Castille to explain what happened with Van Lagos.

    "It''s a good plan given the circumstances," Castille said. "I would come along, but Dugan..."

    She trailed off, staring at Dugan as he worked.

    "I need to watch him. I''ve never seen him like this."

    "His focus and conviction are both high," Isla said, turning on her lecturer''s voice. "I don''t think he''ll stop until everyone here is healed. He''ll need rest after this."

    Castille folded her arms.

    "The people in this town have never seen a healer. Cassandra has already convinced Dugan to look at Denise when he''s done here. He won¡¯t be resting anytime soon. And speaking of rest. Shouldn''t you be in bed?"

    "I''ll be fine," Isla said in an exasperated voice.

    "Mmhmm."

    "We''ll be fine, Castille,¡± I said.

    ¡°And why can¡¯t Thor go with you?¡±

    ¡°We tried waking him, but he¡¯s comatose. I think it has something to do with Dugan,¡± Isla said.

    Castille frowned but said nothing.

    "Do you even know where to find Arwen?"

    "I was hoping Cassandra had some leads, but I don''t want her too involved. Messing with Arwen could have blowback."

    And I should at least try to keep my promise.

    "Well, there are always our friends at the Guild."

    Castille jerked her thumb at the Guildhall across the street.

    I sighed.

    "I don''t like depending on them."

    "It couldn''t hurt," Isla said. "The Sanctifiers will have the best intelligence in town, and you were going to hand him over to them anyway."

    They were right, as much as I hated to admit it.

    I walked across the street and banged on the doors of the Guildhall. I was too embarrassed to tell Isla and Castille the real reason for my hesitation. I didn''t want Reed to know I was working on her case.

    I frowned, imagining her smug smile.

    Isla and I were led through both doors of the Guildhall to find Dew Able doing paperwork on one of the public desks. He ushered us to the second floor and knocked on the door of what used to be his private office. A servant in a new black-clad uniform opened it, and we saw the last thing I expected to see.

 The Cursed Lands Part 30

    The table and couches were pushed to opposite ends of the large room. In the middle of the empty space, Reed swung her long, spiked club in repeated, downward motions. She was out of the black, double-breasted jacket of her uniform, showing off the sleeveless white tunic underneath.

    The compact muscles of her arms rippled with each repetition, and after a moment, I caught myself staring. I turned away to look at Isla, who stared at Reed in the same trance.

    At least it wasn''t just me.

    After two more repetitions, Reed stopped and smiled at us.

    "If it isn''t my favourite agent. I''m glad you''re in one piece. Those beggars looked ferocious."

    "We had it under control."

    "Did you? Then, I don¡¯t want to see what out of control looks like. Is there a reason for your visit?"

    I paused for a moment and sighed.

    I¡¯d come this far. May as well spill.

    "I have a lead on the assignment."

    She quirked an eyebrow, glancing at Isla.

    "Which one?"

    "The Lagos one."

    "Oh, you work fast."

    Reed put the club down, leaning its pommel against her well-defined shoulder. She clapped twice, rattling the golden bracer around her right forearm.

    I was so focused on her biceps that I almost missed that accessory. The piece of armour clashed with the Sanctifier¡¯s sombre dress code.

    Strange. Why a golden bracer instead of silver or steel?

    Two servants waiting against the walls stepped forward to move the couches and low table back into place. They wore the same black uniforms as the servant who let us in. The style of the uniform and the way they made the wearer blend into the background gave away their tailor.

    Shay.

    Reed sat down on the nearest white cushioned couch, placing her club beside her like another guest. The servant who dragged over the couch returned a moment later with a goblet of wine and a clean rag to pat herself down. Dew stood near the door, fidgeting with his lands beneath his black robes.

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    The Inquisitor gestured to the couch opposite of her.

    "You may sit."

    Isla and I sat on the opposite sofa.

    "Wine?"

    Reed gestured at a servant holding a glass decanter. The man''s stoic face was familiar. He was one of the guards who let us into the Guildhall the day before.

    "I like what you¡¯ve done with the place, Reed."

    Her lips curled in a tight-lipped smile.

    "This Guildhall wasn''t operating to my standards. Some personnel changes where required."

    She glanced at Dew Able, who dabbed his face with the sleeve of his black robe.

    "I suspect most will enjoy their new¡­ subordinate positions."

    She looked back at me, her smile turning mischievous.

    Isla elbowed me in the ribs.

    Oh, right!

    I coughed, clearing my throat.

    "Ahem! Van Lagos thinks Arwen is behind the poisoning.¡±

    Reed grinned, leaning back into the sofa and resting her arms over the top.

    "Now that¡¯s interesting.¡±

    ¡°Van is using the right of retribution to go after him. We don¡¯t have hard evidence yet but if I bring Arwen to you, can you get a confession?¡±

    ¡°A real confession,¡± Isla said.

    Reed glanced at the long, spiked club beside her.

    ¡°I can. Do you need anything else?¡±

    ¡°I need to him.¡±

    ¡°Of course. High Sanctifier?"

    Dew Able stiffened at the mention of his title.

    "Yes, Special Inquisitor!"

    ¡°Bring me your file on Arwen and your latest map.¡±

    "Yes! Right away."

    He disappeared through the door, the hurried slapping of his feet echoing on the stone. A few minutes later, he returned with a bundle of paper and a large sheet rolled up under his arm. He placed the stack of paper next to Reed on the sofa and unrolled the map of Steeltown over the low table.

    Reed leafed through the papers in silence until she stopped and raised her hand. One of the servants approached and handed her a container of small sewing pins.

    Sewing pins? Had Shay come here in person?

    Reed stuck the red-tipped pins into different locations on the map, looking back at the notes beside her. After another few minutes, she stopped to appreciate her work.

    "Arwen lives here."

    She pointed at a pin in the poorer Residential Quarter.

    "In the mornings, he goes to the Industrial Quarter to inspect foundries and plants controlled by Tom¡¯s cartel."

    Reed waved at a collection of pins in the Industrial Quarter.

    "His route is random, but he usually starts here."

    She pointed to a pin closer to the edge of the Residential Quarter.

    "It''s an old copper smelting operation that shut down years ago.¡±

    "Where does he go after his inspections?" Isla asked.

    Reed gave Isla a curious look before tapping her finger beside a pin in a Service Quarter.

    "He''s a regular at this bar. It''s a popular hangout for the mining crews that work under Tiny Tom."

    Amazing.

    If the Sanctifiers knew this much about Arwen, what information did they have on me? And how had Isla kept her identity hidden from them for so long?

    Reed leaned back into the couch, taking a refill of wine for her goblet.

    ''So, how do you plan to capture him?"

    I looked over the map. There were three ambush points: Arwen''s home, the copper smelting plant, and the bar. Each location had its own strengths and weaknesses.

    "I''m not doing anything until I do some scouting. We''ll start by staking out the bar. It''s already mid-morning, and I''ll stick out less."

    I fidgeted with my embroidered red-gold coat.

    Reed smiled.

    "An excellent plan. Do you need extra hands?"

    She made a sweeping gesture at the servants in the room.

    ¡°They are well trained AND experienced.¡±

    I grit my teeth in a forced smile.

    "No, but thank you for your help."

    Reed leaned forward, savouring the grimace on my face.

    "Anything for my favourite agent."

 The Cursed Lands Part 31

    "What''s going on between you and the Inquisitor?" Isla asked as we walked through the doors of the Guildhall.

    "What do you mean?"

    "You know what I mean. There''s this weird tension between you two.¡±

    We waved to Castille before continuing down the street to go to the bar.

    "Tension? There¡¯s no tension."

    "And what was that about more than one assignment? What else are you doing for her?"

    I almost tripped.

    ¡°It¡¯s-It¡¯s nothing.¡±

    Isla sighed.

    "Jacob, how are we supposed to work as a team if you don''t trust me?"

    I recoiled.

    "Trust you? You¡¯ve been keeping secrets since this journey started. I''ve been upfront about why I''m here. So has Castille and even Dugan in his weird way. We still don¡¯t know what you¡¯re hiding."

    She stopped in her tracks.

    "Jacob¡­ I want to tell you¡ªtell everyone, but I can''t. It''s too dangerous."

    "For you?"

    "For the country."

    That shut me up.

    What could make one person so important?

    "How about this? If I''m seconds away from dying, let me in on your secret. That way, I can¡¯t share it with anyone."

    Isla folded her arms, shivering under the heat of the rising sun.

    "Why are you so morbid?"

    "Life experience."

    We walked down the main street that led deeper into the Service Quarter. Despite the lack of customers, most shops were open now, with elaborate, hand-painted signs hanging in the windows.

    I stopped at a general store, looking inside at a row of plain iron cutlery: forks, knives, and-

    Who is that?

    In the window''s reflection, a man on the other side of the street walked at an easy pace. Dressed in a long brown duster, nothing about him stuck out, yet the paranoid part of my brain itched.

    It was the way he walked¡ªhe was killing time. In the Dellends, that luxury was only for those too drunk or sick to work.

    "Someone¡¯s following us. Act natural," I whispered.

    Isla turned to the shop window.

    "Great. Who did we piss off this time?"

    I stifled a laugh.

    "You''ve been spending too much time with Castille."

    "No, I''ve been spending too much time in this spirits-cursed land."

    I turned to her.

    "You, OK?"

    "I''m tired."

    "We told you to rest."

    "Not that.¡±

    She looked down at her hands.

    ¡°I''m tired of hiding my abilities.¡±

    My eyebrows raised.

    I hadn''t thought of our new rule from Isla''s perspective. As a noble, she was trained to use her Landbound abilities from a young age. Being a mage was a fundamental part of who she was, and for the past couple of days, she had been forced to suppress what came naturally. Seeing Dugan use his abilities must have been the final straw.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    I glanced over my shoulder as another man in a duster slipped onto our side of the street.

    Tip for new spies: don''t wear matching outfits when tailing someone.

    "Misdirection."

    "What?"

    "What if you disguised your abilities as something ordinary."

    "How would I do that?"

    "I don''t know. You''re the genius.¡±

    I took Isla¡¯s hand, pulling away from the window to walk further down the street.

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    ¡°Sorry, we have more company. Get ready to turn into that alley.¡±

    We made a sharp turn at the edge of the general store, breaking out into a run until we stopped at a narrow intersection behind the storefronts. I pulled Isla to the left and crouched low against the back of a building, burning my will to activate the coat¡¯s enchantment.

    ¡°Stay quiet,¡± I whispered, mostly to myself.

    I took a deep breath and waited for my heart to stop pounding in my ears.

    Heavy footfalls slapped the ground as the two men ran into the intersection. One was a gruff, older man with a wiry frame and an iron-grey mustache. The other was a boy a few years younger than me, growing the beginnings of a bread. They stopped, looking indecisively down the back streets. I burned more will as they stared over our heads. So far, the enchantment was working, deflecting attention as long they didn¡¯t look too hard.

    "Where did he go?" the boy asked.

    "I don''t know. The elf has tricks. We''ll split up to cover more ground. Scratch that. Get everyone. Lady Kateen wants him found."

    The boy ran off in the direction he came, leaving the older man alone in the intersection. He rubbed the greying stubble on his chin and slipped his hand into the chest pocket of his long coat. He pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette and looked down where we crouched.

    He strained against the invisible force keeping his head up. The veins in his neck bulged. His teeth clenched. He grunted from the effort. The harder he tried to look down, the more will I burned.

    I turned off the enchantment. The older man¡¯s head snapped down. He stumbled forward¡ªoff-balanced by the sudden release of force. Good. I jumped up, willing my dagger into my left hand and sliding it under his ribs. He gasped, the cigarette slipping from his mouth. I laid him down at the intersection, wiping away the sweat prickling my forehead.

    On my right, the boy looked at me slack-jawed with two other equally stunned men¡ªone blonde. One brunette.

    "Damn."

    I ran down the right alleyway¡ªaway from where Isla crouched.

    Fighting three men in an alleyway was doable, but not here. I needed them coming at me one at a time, and I needed Isla to get away. Lack of sleep aside, she wasn¡¯t ready for a fight without her Landbound magic.

    The two men ran after me while the boy broke off in another direction. Great. Was he going to get more friends?

    I turned to the two pursuing men and threw my dagger. It sunk into the thigh of the blonde running in front. He stumbled back into the brunette. I willed my dagger back into my hand. The brunette slipped behind the injured man for cover and pulled out a hand crossbow. My eyes widened as he shot a bolt aimed at my heart. I tried to twist out of the way, but it was too late.

    The bolt hit my chest at an angle and skittered off my left shoulder into the back wall of a store. Not a stitch on the jacket was out of place.

    Thank you, Shay!

    The impact left me unbalanced and unprepared as the injured man dropped on all fours. The brunette leapt over him, pulling out his rapier in the same motion. He thrust it at my left shoulder, hoping to stab me in the chest when I got my balance. Instead, I went with the momentum, accelerating my fall forward instead of correcting myself.

    I slipped under the rapier thrust and placed the side of my right fist against his chest. I willed my dagger from my left hand to my right. The knife materialized in a reverse grip, stabbing the brunette man in the heart. I spun on my heels to twist my short sword free, slashing the blonde man across the neck as he rose to his knees with his weapons in hand.

    All three of us collapsed to the ground.

    I got to my knees, panting. They were good. Much better than the Lagos guards at last night¡¯s party. They fought like me, preferring skill and speed over mindless aggression. That told me something about their mistress.

    I sighed.

    I had forgotten about Kateen. No, I¡¯d done worse than that. I underestimated how violent she could get. Fooled by a pretty dress as if the most dangerous woman in Luskaine didn''t raise me. The Service Quarter was her territory. The only reason she hadn''t stormed the Pit was the Sanctifier Guildhall across the street.

    I flashed back to Reed''s suggestion of bringing extra hands. Had she anticipated this? That woman was too clever. I needed to get out of here, back to the Pit with the rest of the party¡ªwith Isla.

    Isla!

    I looked down the alleyway, straining my eyes to spot where Isla was crouched. She was gone!

    Did she escape? Was she captured?

    I stabbed my short sword into the ground, pushing on it to get to my feet. The main streets were a no-go, but if I-

    The crossbow bolt bit into the back of my knee.

    My left leg buckled, making my short sword bend to support my weight.

    I turned on my right leg to see the boy behind a stack of boxes, hand crossbow drawn.

    He stared at me with a shocked, wide-eyed expression that became permanent as my dagger buried itself in his eye.

    His head jerked back. His limp body draped over the boxes like an animal skin and then slipped behind them and out of my mind.

    I willed the dagger back into my hand and hobbled down the alley.

    If I could just make it to the Pit, Dugan could heal me; I could get Castille, and we could find Isla.

    My leg¡­ Why can¡¯t I feel my leg?

    Of course, the crossbow bolts were poisoned. Sin was right; poison took the fun out of fighting¡ªthe fun out of winning.

    I loosened my belt sash and tied it above my knee as I walked. It wouldn''t help much, but it would be worth it if it kept me moving for a few extra minutes.

    The Pit. If I could only-

    I staggered and fell against the back wall of a store. A person on the other side of the wall pounded against it.

    ¡°Keep it down out there!¡±

    I took two more steps before I collapsed. In my mind, I was still walking, the steady crunch of boots on dirt surrounding me. The frills of a white dress rolled into view as my vision faded to black.

 The Cursed Lands Part 32

    Another day, another chair.

    At least I was alive¡­ for now. I reached out with my senses. My eyes were closed, but nothing covered them. My body was numb from the neck down. There was a dull pressure about my chest, wrists and ankles.

    Is that rope?

    Something was in the air¡ªthe earthy smell of fresh potatoes, the tang of salted fish, the smoke of burning torches. The sound of leather soles scrapping on gravel told me I wasn''t alone.

    "Is he awake?"

    A rough hand grabbed me by the hair and snapped my head back. My eyes flitted open to see Kateen''s blonde handmaiden from the party, her pretty face fixed with a pleasant smile. She wore a different white dress, as beautiful and expensive as the last.

    "Yes, Lady Kateen. He¡¯s awake."

    "About time. I''m not rude enough to interrupt beauty sleep."

    A storm of white cloth came into view out of the corner of my eye. Kateen walked forward in a voluminous white dress and settled on a cushioned chair across from me. Next to her stood the redheaded handmaiden, Anissa, and one of her men with my cane tucked in his belt.

    I scanned the room. I was in the middle of a warehouse with stacked boxes of supplies. More men in long brown coats stood guard, holding torches that provided most of the light. The rest of the light came from large windows on the second story of the building.

    "I''m sorry. Am I boring you?"

    I turned back to Kateen. She looked as imperious as a queen on her throne.

    "All you had to do was sign my contract. Now look at you: paralyzed, bleeding out and tied to a chair."

    I smiled.

    "I admit, it hasn''t been my day."

    "That rock joint poison was worth every coin. It was hard to get, you know, even for someone with my connections. Now. Enough small talk. Tell me everything you know about the Briggs'' operations."

    "What?"

    "Play dumb all you want. The Briggs family have been trying to insert themselves into my territory for years."

    She turned up her nose.

    "They intimidate my business partners. Attack my trade routes. All to peddle their weapons. Now they sent you. A smooth-talking elf to turn the mining cartels and Sanctifier Guild against me."

    "I don¡¯t know what you''re talking about."

    "Please. Save your lies for those Dahlgeshi rats or that whore of an Inquisitor. Tell me the truth, and your death will be mostly painless."

    ¡°Mostly?¡±

    ¡°My Clarice has needs, and what kind of mother would I be if I didn¡¯t indulge her? Chicken, cats, and dogs¡ªall suitable subjects for her playtime, but people are her favourite playmates.¡±

    I glanced up at the handmaiden and met eyes devoid of humanity, empathy and remorse. I shivered.

    Is this what Sin wanted me to become?

    ¡°So, elf. Will you tell me the truth?¡±

    That''s the one thing I couldn''t do.

    "Clarice."

    The handmaiden punched me hard across the mouth, pulled her arm back and punched me two more times.

    I stifled a laugh.

    This was nothing compared to the Red Room.

    "Clarice, stop. I have another idea. Anissa."

    Anissa stepped forward with a bowed head, pulling black iron pliers from the bag slung over her shoulder.

    "Before I was Lady Kateen, I had a beautiful baby girl. She died from the flux. But where one door closed, others opened. I became a wet nurse for a noblewoman''s twins. It was the most rewarding experience in my life, seeing those young ones grow up. And then they started teething. The new teeth made their gums sore, and it made them bite down during breastfeeding. I hated it. It made me wish... they didn''t have teeth."

    Clarice''s eyes lit up as Anissa handed her the pliers.

    ¡°It¡¯s a shame. You had a pretty smile.¡±

    Spirits below!

    I needed to stall. I needed to do something!

    "Alright! Fine! I''ll tell you everything¡ªanything you want to know."

    "Clarice..."

    "Yes, Lady Kateen."

    "Take a few of his teeth for wasting my time."

    My eyes went wide. Clarice shoved the cool metal into my mouth. The pliers clamped around my front tooth. She licked her lips, preparing to twist.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°No! Wait! No! Stop-¡±

    PAP!

    Clarice''s head jerked to the side. The pliers in her hand fell to the ground, followed by her limp body.

    "Clarice! Your dress."

    PAP!

    One of the guards crumpled to the floor. A rock bounced to a stop at my feet; a thin layer of transparent ice covered it.

    Isla, you are a genius.

    "Enemy attack!"

    The guards ducked behind boxes for cover. Anissa ducked in front of me.

    This was my chance.

    I tried to will my dagger into my hand. No luck. I needed to be carrying my short sword for that to work.

    PAP!

    A guard peeking his head from behind a stack of boxes collapsed. His torch dropped over the boxes, setting them alit.

    Lady Kateen stood tall among the chaos, staring into the shadows of the warehouse behind me.

    "Eric?"

    "Yes, Lady Kateen," the man beside her said.

    "Be a dear and take the elf hostage."

    "Of course, ma''am."

    The guard carrying my cane slinked forward and turned my chair around to face the darkness. He twisted out my dagger and held it across my neck¡ªthe dull pressure of my cane pressed against my forearm.

    If I could just grab it¡­

    "I''ll give you to the count of three. Come out with your hands raised, or Eric slits this elf''s throat. One!"

    I narrowed my eyes, looking for movement in the shadows outside the torchlight. There were only motes of dust drifting in stray beams of sunlight from the second-story windows.

    "Two!"

    "Wait! Wait."

    The dust swirled as a slight figure in a navy-blue cloak walked out from behind a stack of crates. Isla stopped just outside the torchlight, her hands raised. In one hand, she held a small rock. In the other, she held a patch of leather tied to two lengths of braided string.

    It was a good cover. A sling could send rocks flying with enough speed and force to knock out a grown man, but she wasn''t using that sling. She was using her ability to create and control water to wrap the rocks in ice and propel them at the speed of an arrow.

    "Oh my, aren''t you precious? You look like my little girl all grown up. Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re here to save this¡­ this¡­ elf?¡±

    "That ''half-elf'' has a name."

    Kateen sighed.

    "A girl like you could do so much better than him. Look how he abuses you. When was the last time you had a good night''s sleep? Food that filled your belly? If you were one of my girls, I would treat you right. Like the princess you were always meant to be."

    Isla''s face darkened at the word princess, or maybe it was the surroundings getting darker. A thin haze of smoke clogged the air from the wooden boxes caught aflame. The sound of shuffling feet on my right told me Anissa had run for cover near Kateen. Two guards ran over to my left and hoisted Clarice away.

    "So, will you become my daughter?"

    "I''d rather die than go with you."

    "A pity. Eric, kill the elf."

    My numb fingers fumbled for the cane tucked in Eric''s belt. My pinky found the wooden shaft. I willed the dagger out of Eric''s hand into my right in a reverse grip. Isla slipped back into the shadows. A rock whistled past my head, smacking Eric on his forehead as he looked down at his empty hand. I jerked my head to the left, knocking my chair over to make myself a harder target for the crossbow bolts. I sawed at the rope binding my wrists with clumsy hands. Behind me, the shouts of guards and crackling flames filled the warehouse. More rocks flew out of the shadows. They whistled through the air, creating pained grunts and thuds from bodies falling behind me.

    The warehouse''s front doors creaked open. I cut through the rope around my wrists, shutting my eyes as sunlight bathed the inside of the building. Frantic footsteps ran up to me. I cracked my eyes open to see Isla crouching beside me.

    "Are you OK?!"

    "No! Here!"

    I rolled my shoulder, making my arm flop in front of me. Isla took the dagger held loose in my hand and cut through the bindings around my chest and ankles. I turned to the front doors. They were wide enough to fit a wagon, but only one thing blocked the entrance: Kateen.

    She stared as the warehouse''s interior burned, a serene calm on her face. That stare settled on us as a guard pulled her from the entrance.

    "Can you walk?" Isla asked.

    "I can crawl."

    "Good enough. We need to get to the back of the warehouse. I made a hole to sneak in."

    She took my cane off Eric''s unconscious body.

    "When were you going to tell me you had an enchanted weapon?"

    "When you asked."

    Isla let out a huff, sheathing the dagger into the top of the cane.

    "We need to hurry."

    I struggled to my knees. Isla ducked under my right arm and lifted me to my feet.

    "Why are you so heavy?!"

    "Why are you so weak?"

    We hobbled by stacked crates as black smoke wreathed the top of the warehouse. The smell of cooking potatoes and dried meat assaulted my nose. A black border narrowed around my vision. It was one thing to die¡ªanother to die hungry. We collapsed in front of Isla¡¯s opening at the back of the warehouse. It was too small. I wouldn¡¯t fit.

    "I think I''m bleeding out."

    "Hold on!"

    Isla knelt at the hole, pulling out the spare dagger on her belt.

    "I don''t have much will left."

    Water beads condensed on the dagger''s blade and drifted to its edge. They formed saw-like teeth that cycled around the blade with blurring speed.

    The dagger sank into the wooden wall like butter as Isla carved around the smaller hole.

    As the entrance widened, my vision narrowed.

    "I''m not going to make it."

    "Fine! I''ll tell you.¡±

    "Tell me what?"

    "I''m the firstborn child of Roderick Luskaine."

    Roderick Luskaine?

    "Wait... The King?!"

    The warehouse''s roof creaked and buckled.

    Isla finished cutting through the wall.

    "Castille!"

    "I''m here!"

    Castille grabbed me by the jacket and pulled me through the makeshift exit. Isla crawled through behind me, carrying my cane¡ªjust as the warehouse collapsed.

    "What took you?"

    "I had a few complications."

    Castille frowned.

    "His leg... he''s bleeding out."

    "Thank you for noticing," I said, flitting in and out of consciousness.

    "Can you do anything, Isla?"

    "I''m not great at healing on a good day, and right now¡­ Wait-"

    She unfastened the belt sash around my wounded leg, feeling the lump on one end.

    "Are these coins?"

    "Isla!"

    "Right!"

    She took out her dagger. Water condensed around the blade and crystallized. She pressed the flat of the cold, blunted blade against my wound and wrapped my sash around it.

    "Good enough. Let''s go!"

    Castille lifted me in a bridal carry, running through an alley into the street where her and Isla''s horses waited.

    I turned my head back to the warehouse. The fire was spreading to the neighbouring buildings. Kateen''s men would have their hands full putting it out.

    It all looked so far away¡ªat the end of a long tunnel, fading to black.

    A princess. Isla was a princess.

    Of course, she was.

 The Cursed Lands Part 33

    The bed was soft.

    It reminded me of home.

    Which home?

    The guest room in the mansion? My cot in the orphanage?

    No¡­ Somewhere else.

    I was blind to the world; swathed in thick blankets. A woman hummed in my ears. Her rough fingers caressed my face and lifted me to her chest. The steady beat of her heart was a comfort.

    Movement.

    I rocked in her arms, walking into a room that smelled like old parchment.

    Her breath caught.

    Her heart pounded louder¡ªfaster. A door slammed open with a crash, and a wave of cold sent shivers through my body. Tears dripped down my face into my crying mouth. She screamed. I flew in the air, landing somewhere soft, wet and cold.

    My eyes cracked open. It was dark, with fleeting moonlight coming from the guest room¡¯s red-curtained windows. Cynthia''s warm body was beside me, her light breaths tickling the side of my neck. The soft smack of leather on hardwood rang in the room. I tried to lift my head, but I couldn''t move. My body was a cage, every inch of me paralyzed down to my heavy-lidded eyes.

    Something slithered onto the bed¡ªa light depression just below my right foot. It whispered against the bed sheets, tracing an outline of my body as it moved to my head. I panicked, struggling against the invisible grip on my body¡ªthe heavy weight pushing down on my chest. A familiar shade of red flashed in the corner of my eye. Sin. She loomed over me, passing the forward-bent knife she ran along the bed to her left hand in a reverse grip. In the darkness, she didn¡¯t know I was awake. I didn¡¯t know I was awake. My mind flitted in and out of awareness, blending dreams and reality. She raised her left hand. I tried to shout¡ªtried to scream as the knife plunged down at my head!

    The blade¡¯s tip stopped an inch above my eye.

    Sin pulled her knife back, taking heavy breaths that made her chest heave. She tore down the mask of stocking that covered her face, and, in the shadow of her hood, two red eyes stared down at me.

    ¡°Why?¡± She whispered. ¡°Why can¡¯t I kill you?¡±

    I jolted awake in the bed of Castille''s master suite. Dugan slept next to me, with Thor resting his head on the crook of his shoulder. Castille sat in the side table chair, sharpening her sword.

    ¡°Jacob! You¡¯re alive!¡±

    Isla¡¯s lean arms pulled me in for a tight hug.

    What were those? Nightmares or memories?

    How many times had Sin visited me in my sleep? How many times had she almost killed me? And who was that woman carrying me in her arms?

    I shivered.

    ¡°Jacob, are you OK? Are you cold?¡±

    I blinked and looked around. My coat was off, draped over the chair Isla was sitting on next to the bed¡ªalong with my pants.

    ¡°My pants!¡±

    I struggled out of Isla¡¯s grip. My eyes darted around the room, looking for something¡ªanything to defend myself with.

    ¡°Easy, Jacob. We had to dress your wound. Nothing happened,¡± Castille said, examining the edge of her longsword.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ Right¡­¡±

    Isla pulled away from me, her face a sickly shade of green.

    ¡°I-I didn¡¯t know¡­ I didn¡¯t mean too¡­¡±

    I sighed.

    ¡°Isla¡­ I¡¯m sorry. I panicked. You did good. I would have bled out without you.¡±

    Her face lit up.

    "I-I just thought of you. If a hot blade can cauterize a wound, a cold blade can slow down bleeding."

    I moved my injured leg. That crossbow bolt damaged muscles and tendons.

    "Can Dugan-"

    "No. After he finished with the ones outside, Cassandra had him see to her girls. He won''t be healing anyone for a while," Castille said.

    She ran her blade along the whetstone for emphasis, implying what she would do if I continued to ask.

    I pushed myself up against the bed¡¯s headboard and let my shoulders sag.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    I¡¯m weak. Pathetic. Useless.

    No¡­ no. I still had utility.

    Isla gave me a worried look. What should I call her now? Princess? Your Highness?

    "Are you sure you¡¯re, OK?" She asked.

    "About what you said at the warehouse..."

    Isla¡¯s eyes widened. She shook her head.

    I glanced at Castille, who looked at us with a raised eyebrow.

    "Do you have something to share? It¡¯s safe. We¡¯re alone.¡±

    KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

    We turned to the door.

    Dugan opened his eyes. Castille got to her feet and moved to the entrance, her longsword slung over her shoulder. She cracked the door and then flung it open the rest of the way.

    Cassandra stood at the entrance holding a tray of food. The cut on her forehead was gone. Dugan must have gotten to her during his healing marathon.

    "Good morning. I thought you would like some food."

    "Morning? How long was I out?"

    "Half a day," Castille said, moving out of the way to let Cassandra through.

    "Any news?"

    Cassandra set the tray of food on top of Castille¡¯s whetstone on the side table.

    "Too much. The fire is finally under control. Three of Lady Kateen''s warehouses burned down. Ten of her men died..."

    Her face paled. Cassandra had stared down a mob without flinching. Was Kateen that terrifying? I remembered Clarice¡¯s empty stare. No, but some of her daughters were.

    "Serves her right."

    Isla folded her arms, setting her face in an expression that was more defiant than angry. Castille closed the bedroom door and put a comforting hand on Cassandra''s shoulder.

    "Cassandra, there''s more to this, isn''t there."

    She nodded, her eyes becoming more panicked with each tilt of her head.

    "Those warehouses were the main supply of food and water in Steeltown. Without that stockpile, food prices will increase for the next few months. People will go hungry and get angry."

    "They''ll want someone to blame," I said.

    "But it''s Lady Kateen''s fault!" Isla said.

    Her face reddened with guilt. Technically, she started the fire.

    Castille shrugged.

    "Who cares about the truth? We''re the perfect scapegoats. When the hunger sets in, we¡¯ll be served up on a platter."

    Images of the crowd from yesterday flashed in my mind. Cassandra''s panicked expression made sense. The next crowd of Steeltowners in front of the Pit would be bigger, with torches and pitchforks in hand. I thought back to Kateen''s cold expression. She¡¯d come to the same conclusion. If her men couldn¡¯t finish us off, the townsfolk would.

    "We need to move up our timetable.¡±

    "Aye. Cassandra, you should go."

    Castille guided Cassandra to the door. She hunched her shoulders, waiting for the sky to fall around her. We had done that, and I had made it worse by lying to her. What did she want from me? It¡¯s not like I could see the future.

    Weak. Pathetic. Use-

    No, there was still time¡ªtime to finish this quest before the whole town turned on us.

    Castille closed the door and shook her head.

    "Poor woman. She should make us leave, but she¡¯s too indebted to us for healing her girls."

    "Maybe we should leave anyway," I said.

    "And go where? Do you think anyone will have us now?" Isla asked.

    She was right. We couldn¡¯t move to a new inn if we wanted to.

    Castille sighed, sheathing her sword.

    "From now on, no more splitting the party. We move as a team. Understood?"

    "You say that, but Dugan and I are still laid up in bed."

    "Speak for yourself."

    Castille pointed at Dugan.

    He slid from underneath Thor and sat up on his side of the bed. He rolled his shoulders and hopped to his feet with surprising ease.

    "How are you moving after a few hours of sleep?" Isla asked.

    Dugan patted Thor''s side. The boar didn¡¯t react; he was dead to the world. Passed out like when we left to look for Arwen.

    "He helped."

    Isla furrowed her brows. A moment later, something clicked, and she cocked her head at Dugan with wide eyes.

    "You stole his will!"

    Dugan scratched at this beard, his face reddening.

    "He gave it to me."

    "B-but that shouldn''t be possible!"

    Dugan shrugged.

    Castille walked up to him and kissed the short man on the forehead.

    "How do you feel?"

    "Better."

    He turned to me and nodded, walking over to my side of the bed.

    "Why is no one else freaking out about this?" Isla asked.

    "Why should we?" I asked.

    Dugan rested his meaty palm on my forehead, and the sensation of water washed over me like a warm bath.

    "Will is unique to every person. You can¡¯t just give it to someone else. It¡¯s been tested!¡±

    I relaxed against the headboard.

    Healing felt... amazing.

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°There are enchanted objects called will wells that let you store your will for later use. Mages have tried to burn will from another person¡¯s will well, but it''s never worked."

    "So, you''re saying Dugan and Thor have the same will?"

    Isla blinked at me.

    "No, but that''s a good hypothesis. I need to write that down."

    "You can study Dugan later. Right now, we need a new plan,¡± Castille said.

    "The new plan is the old plan. Kidnap Arwen and bring him to Reed. Reed gets him to confess to the assassination attempt. Van Lagos gives us access to the Mountains,¡± I said.

    "Simple enough, but we can''t move freely in the Service Quarter."

    "We could accept Reed''s help and bring her guards," Isla said.

    Castille''s grey eyes turned hard. She glared at me from across the room.

    "You could have had help to capture Arwen?¡±

    Her voice was the whisper of an unsheathing sword.

    Dugan pulled his hand back for a moment to wipe off the sweat pouring down my forehead.

    I broke away from her gaze, bunching up the bed¡¯s red, silken sheets in my hands.

    Weak! Pathetic! Useless!

    Isla talked to me about trust and trusted me with her biggest secret. Couldn¡¯t I do the same? Is that what a weapon would do? Is that what Sin would do?

    No¡­ but I did it anyway.

    "Every time I go to Reed and Sanctifiers for help, I... I¡­ feel like I¡¯m selling a piece of myself. And I¡¯m afraid¡­ afraid that one day there won¡¯t be anything left. They¡¯ll own me, control me¡ªmake me their pet."

    I winced.

    Why did I do that? What¡¯s wrong with me?!

    I looked up to meet Castille''s grey eyes. She gave me a slow, understanding nod that melted away the tension in my shoulders and arms.

    ¡°I can relate.¡±

    She smiled.

    "Well, there¡¯s someone else we can go to for backup: the Lagos brothers."

    Isla cringed before something sparked in her eyes.

    "As much as I hate to admit it, that would allow me to look at the orb in their hall. Examining it may give us a clue about Nostrand Del and the curse."

    Dugan stiffened at the mention of the enchanted object. The healing sensation cut off a moment before he pulled back his hand.

    "I''m done."

    In more ways than one.

    I stretched out my leg. It was as good as new. He finished healing a moment before he lost his conviction.

    "You''re amazing, Dugan."

    "Of course he is," Castille said.

    She gave us a sweeping stare.

    "The day is young. We can ride for the Lagos estate before Steeltown wakes up. The fewer eyes on us, the better. Agreed?"

    Dugan and Isla nodded.

    "What about him?"

    I pointed to the unconscious boar lying on the bed.

    "He can stay here."

    "So much for not splitting the party."

    Castille grinned.

    "Sometimes you have to leave the cavalry behind."

 The Cursed Lands Part 34

    We rode for the Lagos estate as the sun climbed the horizon. Castille and Isla were in the front while I took my usual spot riding with Dugan in the rear. By this time of day, most miners were travelling to the Mountains while the wealthy of Steeltown slept in. We passed their large, rustic homes in the Residential Quarter reserved for the well-off. Tall, black iron fences surrounded the houses of brick and unvarnished wood. It made for a clever trap. The more wealth you accumulated, the taller you needed to make your fences and the more guards you needed to keep out potential thieves.

    Did they realize they were building their own cages¡ªfancy prisons where they paid for their jailors? Or maybe the prison was also in their mind.

    My gaze wandered back to Isla.

    The princess of Luskaine.

    What kind of prison did she grow up in? How had she broken free?

    ¡°Isla?!¡±

    She looked over her shoulder, shouting over the galloping horses.

    ¡°Yeah?!¡±

    I paused, a thousand questions on the tip of my tongue. She had her reasons for hiding her identity from Dugan and Castille. If I could keep her secret from Reed, I could keep it from them.

    "Um¡­ How are you feeling?!"

    "Good! I took the first watch last night!"

    ¡°OK!¡±

    I sighed.

    I would have to talk to her when she was alone.

    In the distance, the squat, stone building of the Lagos estate jut out of the ground like a molehill.

    I tapped on Dugan''s shoulder.

    "We should move up front."

    He nodded, pulling ahead of Castille and Isla to meet the two guards at the main gate.

    "Hey, it''s the elf." one guard said, elbowing the other.

    Despite the recognition, they kept one hand on their scimitars.

    "I have business with Van Lagos."

    "Lil'' early for business, don''t ya think? Especially armed like that."

    The other guard gestured at our weapons.

    "Van Lagos won''t mind."

    ¡°And we¡¯re supposed to take your word on that?¡±

    The doors of the main building opened. Three more guards walked out with Lira in the lead.

    "Jacob? What brings you here so early in the morning?"

    I dismounted off the back of Dugan''s horse and walked up to the gate.

    "I ran into some trouble in the Service Quarter."

    She smirked.

    "I heard. What does it have to do with us?"

    "I wanted to talk to Van about it."

    She looked up at the mounted party behind me, her eye narrowing at something over my left shoulder.

    ''Whose the blonde?"

    I turned to see Isla looking down, fidgeting with her saddle.

    What kind of princess shied away from attention?

    "Uh¡­ She¡¯s a scholar of enchanted objects.¡±

    ¡°A little young to be a scholar.¡±

    I shrugged.

    ¡°She started early.¡±

    Lira gave me a tight-lipped smile.

    ¡°You''re lucky Van likes you. Franko, let them in."

    "But Lira, they''re armed."

    "That shouldn''t be a problem, right?"

    I flashed her my most charming smile.

    "Of course not."

    Lira led us through the estate''s winding corridors, up a flight of stairs and around a corner to a large set of doors. The two guards stationed on either side gave her a slight nod. She knocked on the door.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "It''s Lira. Jacob has returned... with friends."

    "Let them in!"

    The guards opened the doors to reveal a long, rectangular table under a covered balcony. Van and Finnick Lagos sat on opposite ends, eating a breakfast of roasted meats, bread, and fruit.

    "My friends."

    Van Lagos turned to greet us with a beaming smile, leaning back into his plush, red chair. He quirked an eyebrow at Castille.

    "And most beautiful company. A pleasure to see you again."

    Castille mirrored his expression.

    "The pleasure¡¯s mine."

    "Please. Sit. Eat."

    He gestured to the platter of food at the centre of the table, and the chairs pulled up along the table¡¯s side.

    "Thank you, but we already ate," I said.

    "I hear that will be a luxury soon," Finnick said.

    He stooped over his plate in a protective crouch, his perpetual scowl on his face.

    "Luckily, we have a stockpile of food and water set aside for such occasions. Lady Kateen can be difficult sometimes," Van Lagos said. "Will you share our table?"

    I sat down in a chair between Finnick and Van Lagos. Castille and Dugan remained standing, flanking me on either side, playing the role of bodyguards. Isla stayed further back, an equal distance between Finnick and Lira, who stood by the doors.

    "I¡¯m surprised to see you in one piece. Last I heard, you were being carried away by one of Lady Kateen¡¯s daughters. Most don¡¯t survive her care, and the ones who do wish they didn¡¯t,¡± Van Lagos said.

    I grimaced at the thought of Clarice standing over me¡ªone more thing to add to my nightmares.

    ¡°Why does no one stop her?¡±

    Van Lagos shrugged.

    ¡°What¡¯s to stop? She limits herself to the enemies of her Lady mother¡­ and occasionally, the homeless.¡±

    Spirits below. It was just like the capital.

    ¡°Why have you come here, Jacob? To get revenge?¡±

    I sighed.

    I wish.

    ¡°No. I need help capturing Arwen."

    Finnick scoffed.

    "Didn''t we hire you to do that for us?"

    "My brother is right. That was our deal, Jacob.¡±

    This was the tricky part.

    ¡°If we were just dealing with Tom¡¯s cartel, the job would already be over. It¡¯s Kateen¡¯s men that are the problem. You can¡¯t fight a war on two fronts.¡±

    Or so Gren liked to say.

    ¡°Going after Arwen leaves our back exposed.¡±

    "We have no interest in fighting Lady Kateen to protect your rear," Finnick said.

    Van Lagos raised a finger.

    "Of course, we would protect Dugan.¡±

    Finnick''s scowl deepened.

    "Of course."

    Beside me, the bearded man blushed.

    ¡°What if we stayed out of the Service Quarter? My team can capture Arwen during his inspections in the Industrial Quarter or his home.¡±

    ¡°His home would be a bad choice,¡± Lira said. ¡°Tom¡¯s cartel has influence in the poorer Residential Quarter.¡±

    ¡°And the Industrial Quarter?¡±

    ¡°We control roughly sixty percent of that territory¡ªthe most profitable operations.¡±

    "OK. We''ll make our move in the Industrial Quarter. Can your people keep a lookout for us?¡±

    "A lookout?" Finnick asked, a sour look on his face.

    I nodded.

    "Information on where he is and someone watching our back.¡±

    "We can do that," Van Lagos said.

    Finnick almost choked.

    Van Lagos gestured at Lira with a wave of his hand.

    "Lira, can you make the arrangements?"

    "Of course, Van Lagos."

    "Um."

    Lira and the Lagos brothers turned to Isla. She made herself smaller, shrinking into the corner of the balcony.

    "Who¡¯s this?" Van Lagos asked.

    "Another person on my team. A scholar."

    "You have an object in your hall. C-Can we examine it?"

    Finnick and Van Lagos exchanged looks.

    "Why not? It¡¯s your cremation."

    What did that mean?

    ¡°Lira-¡±

    "I¡¯ll show them to the hall."

    "Excellent. Everyone happy?"

    "No," Finnick said.

    "Good! Now, you have a busy day ahead. You should get started."

    I stoop up.

    "Thank you for your help, Finnick. Van."

    "Hmmph."

    "Good luck! And Jacob¡­"

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t fail me.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±

    # # #

    Lira led us down the stairs and through the corridors to the estate''s hall.

    Castille and Lira walked in front, followed by Isla, Dugan, and myself.

    "So¡­ Van Lagos likes you," Lira said to Castille.

    "That''s what happens when men see beautiful women like us."

    "Excuse me?"

    "The men here must be lining up for you. Men, women and everything in between."

    "I... Uh... Our guards find their satisfaction in the Service Quarter."

    "And what about you?"

    Castille inched closer to the leader of the Lagos guards, looking over her shoulder to wink at Dugan.

    "W-We''re here!" Lira said, changing the subject.

    She walked in a hurry past Castille, gesturing to the guards outside the hall to open the doors.

    As the heavy wooden doors swung open, goosebumps prickled my skin. I reached for the cane on my belt. Dugan froze. Castille stood straighter, and Isla shivered, pulling up her hood. We took cautious steps to the entrance of the hall, leaving a pale-faced Dugan by the bismuth crystals on display. The guards disappeared into the dark room to light braziers with torches hanging near the door.

    "Lira, what happened in the hall after the party ended?"

    "I interrogated the servants handling the wine."

    "Did they say anything?"

    "They were tight-lipped, so I opened their mouths and poured wine down their throats. The effect on the orb was unexpected. We¡¯ve been keeping people away from the hall ever since."

    She folded her arms to stop herself from shivering.

    Those servants died in this room, and their souls were pulled into the orb, magnifying the disturbing feeling it gave off.

    "Isla?"

    She nodded.

    "I¡¯m ready."

    Isla took a deep breath, straightened her posture and took slow steps into the hall. Castille hung back at the doors to stay close to Lira. I followed Isla.

    Hunger washed over me¡ªlike my jacket¡ªlike my dagger but stronger and worse. I couldn¡¯t turn it off. In the presence of the orb, we were all matches forced to burn.

    I stopped halfway. My eyes went wide.

    The rings around the orb were rotating¡ªfaster than that night¡ªfaster the closer we walked to it.

    "Isla?!"

    "I''ll be OK. Wait here."

    I did as she said.

    She took methodical steps around the orb. Her brow was furrowed, seeing something I couldn¡¯t.

    Behind me, light footsteps padded closer. I turned as Finnick walked to my side. He watched Isla examine the orb in stony silence for a long moment before speaking.

    "My brother has many flaws: reckless, brash¡­ and too trusting."

    He stared up at me.

    "He looks at you and sees himself, but we both know what you are?"

    "What''s that?"

    "A liar."

    Well, he wasn''t wrong.

    "You lied about being a merchant, and you lie about that one being a scholar."

    Finnick pointed a clawed finger at Isla.

    ¡°She¡¯s a mage like Dugan, isn¡¯t she?¡±

    I stayed silent, slipping on my neutral mask.

    Finnick bared his teeth, his long canines flashing in the light of the braziers.

    "Do you take us for fools?"

    "I take you for pragmatic men."

    I crossed my arms, pointing my chin at the orb.

    "You know that thing is dangerous. My people are the experts. Let us do our job, and everyone will come out of this alright."

    Come on, let this work.

    Finnick narrowed his eyes.

    ¡°Your people? Where are your people? I only see you.¡±

    Damnit.

    "Your elvish glamour doesn''t work on me. There¡¯s something else going on here, and when I figure it out¡­ you¡¯ll be the first to die."

    I flashed Finnick my most winning smile.

    "Get in line."

    "AAH!"

    Isla''s scream pulled us from our conversation. She stumbled away from the orb and fell on her back.

    "Isla!"

    The image of the orb ripping out that woman''s soul flashed in my mind. I ran to her side before reason could stop me.

    "It¡¯s OK... I''m OK."

    "You didn''t sound OK!"

    She got to her feet, brushing off the dust on her cloak.

    Leaning forward, she whispered to me.

    "We need to leave. Now!"

    "What?" I whispered.

    "I figured it out. I figured out the heavy metal curse."

 The Cursed Lands Part 35

    We waited at the front of the Lagos estate for the grooms to get our horses. Lira sent outriders ahead of us into the Industrial Quarter to ask about Arwen. Isla hung back, standing off to the side, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

    What had she learned about the curse? Did she know how to end it?

    She refused to talk until we were away from Lagos eyes and ears.

    Castille approached me with Dugan a few steps back, watching for eavesdroppers.

    "My scars are itching about this job."

    "You agreed we needed to move up the timetable and it was your idea to go to the Lagos brothers."

    "Aye, I¡¯m not disagreeing, but we know next to nothing about this Arwen or his cartel. I¡¯ve been thinking-"

    I sighed.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t the time for cold feet.¡±

    ¡°Wait, let me-¡±

    "Castille! I made the call. Now put some steel in your spine and follow through."

    Dugan and Isla turned to look at us, wide-eyed shock on their faces.

    I shouldn¡¯t have snapped at her, but too much was on the line. Finnick was suspicious. Lady Kateen had almost killed me. And the near-death experience had knocked loose memories I didn¡¯t want to understand. We needed a win. We needed to capture Arwen.

    I forced myself to look at Castille, letting my eyes slowly pan up from her crossed arms to her face.

    She was smiling!

    The broad grin creased her grey eyes as she stared down at me.

    ¡°You¡¯re growing a fine backbone. You¡¯ll make someone very happy one day.¡±

    I gave her a confused look.

    What was she talking about? Why wasn¡¯t she mad?

    A moment later, the grooms returned with our horses. Lira followed behind, mounted with two other guards.

    "Couldn''t stay away?" Castille asked.

    The olive-skinned woman''s face flushed a deep red. She sat straighter in her saddle in a fight for her dignity.

    "It''s better if I come to coordinate. I know the guards, and they¡¯ll listen to me."

    Isla walked up to her horse, her face a mask of forced neutrality in the guards'' presence.

    I nodded to Lira.

    "Lead the way."

    # # #

    We entered the Industrial Quarter through a narrow back street, dismounting our horses to walk in a single file. Lira led in the front, followed by me, Castille, Isla, Dugan and the two other guards.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    My muscles tensed, preparing for another ambush, waiting for Finnick to make good on his word. Would the guards attack us from behind, or did Lira send her runners ahead to prepare a trap? My eyes narrowed on that swaying braid in front of me. Those soundless steps told me she was no ordinary cutthroat. There were other signs as well. She was too well-spoken, too clean and too pretty. Years of working with two Dahlgeshi in Luskaine¡¯s underworld should have left scars. Where were they?

    I sighed.

    Focus.

    I couldn¡¯t afford to get distracted. Our surroundings were distracting enough. The air rang with metal hammering against anvils. The furnaces and forges dotting the Quarter clogged the atmosphere with smoke from burning coal. The smell of rotten eggs mingled with the smoke¡ªsulphur, a byproduct of smelting.

    At the lip of the alley, a young guard in leather armour too big for him ran up to meet Lira. He whispered in her ear. She nodded and gestured him away.

    "Lira?"

    "One of the patrols caught sight of Arwen. This way."

    Lira led us to a main street in the Quarter, where four Lagos guards loitered at the side of the intersection. When they caught sight of us, the oldest of them walked over to Lira. He whispered in her ear, gesturing around the corner. Lira patted the guard on the arm and turned back to us.

    "Arwen went into an old foundry around the corner with two bodyguards. This is as far as we go. Our territory ends past that street."

    No ambush, or was it waiting inside?

    "It looks like we¡¯re up."

    "Good luck, Jacob. Let¡¯s make our mutual friend happy."

    Mutual friend?

    ¡°That¡¯s a weird way to say Van Lagos.¡±

    Lira looked confused before she turned back to return to the estate with her guards. The other guards at the intersection walked away to continue their circuit through Lagos territory.

    Were we alone or being watched from a distance?

    I buttoned up my jacket and walked up to the corner.

    The wide, one-story brick building was like most in the Industrial Quarter. Stone chimneys jutted from the slate tile roof, and falling ash and smoke turned the roof a sooty black. Windows along the walls offered torchless light and ventilation. But no smoke billowed from the chimneys and the windows were broken, boarded up with scraps of wood. This foundry had seen better days.

    The soft crunch of boots and hooves on gravel reminded me that I wasn''t alone.

    "That plant hasn''t been used in a while," Castille said over my shoulder.

    "That doesn''t make sense. What would Arwen be inspecting?" Isla asked.

    "If you let me scout, I can find out."

    Castille walked past me into the street, pulling her black mare along at a slow trod.

    I blinked at her back.

    ¡°What¡¯s she doing?¡±

    Dugan shrugged.

    She¡¯s going to ruin everything!

    I hurried after her, Isla and Dugan trailing behind me with their horses¡¯ reins in one hand.

    "Castille! What are you doing?"

    She looked over her shoulder and smiled.

    ¡°Following through.¡±

    I caught up to her as she reached the front door. She raised her hand to knock.

    ¡°Wait! This could be a trap,¡± I whispered.

    "Maybe, or maybe you''re overthinking things.¡±

    She knocked. A jolt of panic ran through me. I froze. Footsteps¡ªsomeone was coming.

    The door cracked open.

    A teenage girl with a grey bandana tied around her head peered through it.

    "Oh... Uh... Hello?"

    "Hello! My friend here is a travelling merchant looking for wares to sell. Can you show us to the person in charge?"

    Her eyes widened as she looked from Castille to me.

    I did my best attempt at a charming smile through my nerves.

    "Oh, OK. Uh¡­ Arwen is inside. Come in."

    She opened the door wider and ran deeper into the building.

    Castille and I exchanged looks.

    "See."

    "It could still be a trap," I said, under my breath.

    Dugan tied off our horses while Castille and I walked into the building, weapons drawn. Isla walked in a moment later. She was carrying her new makeshift sling in one hand and a pouch of stones on her hip beside her dagger. The sling swayed with the weight of an icy stone loaded in its'' cradle.

    The front half of the building was empty, stripped of its equipment. Wooden partition screens were set up in the middle, blocking the view to the other side. As we approached, low murmurs echoed behind the makeshift barrier.

    "Isla stand off to the side," Castille whispered.

    "OK."

    Dugan slipped into the building after us, axe in hand, scanning his surroundings. Castille and I walked up to the wooden partition.

    She nodded to me.

    I took a deep breath, and we pulled the screens open.

 The Cursed Lands Part 36

    All eyes in the room turned to us.

    Children of all ages froze in the middle of playing and reading at round wooden tables. Near the end of the room, younger children, sitting in a semi-circle, turned away from a man with receding blonde hair, resting a book in his lap.

    The girl we met at the door was whispering in his ear. He looked up at us and our drawn weapons with a confused face.

    Off to the side, a large man rocking a toddler in his arms glanced at the metal pipe hanging from his hip. On the other side, a younger man around my age reached for his machete.

    "Hey! Everyone relax," Castille said.

    "I agree. Eric, hands off your weapon," Arwen said.

    His accent reminded me of Mother Geslin but with more sophistication.

    Eric licked his lips, his eyes shifting from me to Castille.

    She sheathed her sword, raising her open hands. I was frozen. They were staring at me¡ªfifty children, maybe more. In their shocked faces and wide eyes, I saw the boys from my orphanage¡ªsome friendly, some cruel, all broken.

    "Jacob. Jacob... Jacob!"

    I blinked. Castille was staring at me.

    "What?"

    "Your weapons."

    "Oh yeah... right."

    I slid my short sword back into my cane.

    Eric let go of his machete and raised his hands to mirror Castille.

    "See, everything¡¯s OK. Everyone¡¯s OK," Castille said.

    ¡°But why are you here? This is a daycare.¡± Arwen said.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    "A daycare? What''s a daycare?" I asked.

    "An experiment. A real successful one when armed men don''t bust in and scare the children."

    Dugan walked up a moment later, his axe already tucked in his belt.

    "Wait! I know you. You saved Van Lagos at the party. And you! You''re that elf the whole town¡¯s talking about. What¡¯re you doing here?"

    The kids were unexpected, but we had a job to do.

    "You''re the main suspect in the attempted murder of Van Lagos.¡±

    Arwen''s confused face flushed red.

    "Murder?! I-I would never do that! It would start a war! Put my men¡ªthese children¡ªall of Steeltown in danger."

    He was a good liar; I believed him.

    ¡°Then why were so nervous at the party?¡±

    ¡°Heh! Of course, I was nervous. You think that type of crowd likes me? And look, I was right! They ginned you up to come hunting for an innocent man.¡±

    Castille furrowed her brows.

    "I think he''s telling the truth."

    She looked to Dugan, who nodded in agreement.

    This couldn¡¯t be happening.

    "Castille¡­ We have a job-"

    "Jacob..."

    I looked over my shoulder to see Isla behind me. She shook her head.

    "Are you serious? After everything we''ve been through. Everything that¡¯s on the line!"

    "I''m not in the business of selling out innocent men," Castille said.

    "How do we know he''s not lying?!"

    She walked forward¡ªpast the children staring from the tables and the ones cowering on the floor.

    Arwen waved back his bodyguards. He locked eyes with the woman towering over him from his seat.

    "Were you in any way involved in the attempt on Van Lagos'' life?"

    Arwen pulled his shoulders back, sitting straight even as sweat trickled down his face.

    "No."

    After a long moment, Castille spoke.

    "It''s not him."

    My shoulders slumped.

    "Then we''re back to the beginning."

    "Maybe. Maybe not." Castille said over her shoulder. "Do you know someone called Mother Geslin?"

    "That crazy bird? Yeah, I know her. Is she still alive?"

    Arwen! Now I remembered the name. It was one of the people Mother Geslin rattled off the morning we left Southsun.

    "We''ve been to your village. We came here to break the curse," Castille said.

    The book fell off Arwen''s lap.

    "That''s impossible! No one knows what the curse is or how to break it!"

    "Um..." Isla stepped forward. "I do."

 The Cursed Lands Part 37

    We moved to the front of the building. The guards dragged out one of the round tables and arranged chairs, with Arwen sitting on one side and the rest of the party on the other. The two bodyguards stood next to their boss. They glowered at us to overcompensate for being ambushed. My eyes drifted away from them to the wooden partition and the children peeking through its cracks.

    "How many orphans do you keep here?"

    "Orphans? No, these children have parents.¡±

    "Where are they?"

    "Working. In the Dellends, both parents work to feed their families¡­ and you¡¯re lucky to have two parents."

    ¡°In the capital, the children would be working too.¡±

    "Yeah, used to be like that here, but we''re trying something new."

    Arwen gestured to the girl who let us into the building. She stepped forward carrying a tray of tea and biscuits.

    "This experiment. What is it?" Castille asked.

    Arwen nodded thanks to the girl before taking his steaming hot cup. The smell of peppermint overpowered the lingering odour of charcoal.

    "It¡¯s simple, really. You pool all the kids together and create one location to take care of them while their parents work. A place where they can learn, socialize and have fun."

    "Is she having fun?" I asked, gesturing to the girl serving us tea. I waved her away when she stepped closer to offer me a cup.

    "The older kids are taking care of the younger ones for now. If this works out, we''ll scrape enough money together to pay some of the adults to help out."

    "That¡¯s amazing," Isla said, taking her cup of tea.

    Dugan nodded in agreement.

    The more Arwen talked, the less I knew what to make of him. There had to be some kind of catch¡ªan angle that I was missing.

    He pursed his lips together.

    ¡°Mmhmm. So, miss¡­ about the curse¡­."

    ¡°Oh, right! I almost forget.¡±

    Isla shot up from her chair, pulling the pouch of rocks off her belt and spilling the contents on the table. Among the round stones were a few with irregular shapes. Golden and copper growths bulged out of their rocky surfaces like tumours. Isla picked one of them up.

    ¡°This happened within minutes of standing beside the orb in the Lagos estate¡¯s hall."

    She passed it to Arwen, who picked it up between his thumb and index finger.

    "I''ve gone to the Lagos brothers¡¯ parties for years and never seen anything like this. What changed?"

    "More souls," I said.

    Dugan''s right hand tightened around the handle of his cup.

    "What do you mean more souls?" Arwen asked.

    Isla looked up, pressing her index finger on her cheek.

    "How do I explain this? OK! Here¡¯s my hypothesis. When we die, our quintessence is absorbed into the land and is infused with the character of the land. I believe the orb reverses that phenomenon. It takes our quintessence and harnesses it to make the land more like the orb. The more quintessence it absorbs, the stronger and larger the effect."

    "Then there must be dozens of these orbs!¡±

    Isla shook her head.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "Most likely the one in the hall is an early version of the one affecting the entire region."

    "What makes you say that?"

    "Two things. One. The curse started under the Mountains outside Steeltown. Two. Quintessence is only the conduit for the transformation¡ªthe thing that greases the wheels. The orb is powered by the will of those around it. Therefore, whoever is powering the orb has to stay close to it."

    She paused for a moment, speechless.

    "The amount of will required to power a fully working version of the orb is¡­ monstrous."

    I swallowed.

    Nostrand Del, what kind of beast are you?

    Arwen rolled the deformed rock between his fingers, shaking his head.

    "We''ve lost people: sons, daughters¡­ parents. I lost my sister. All because of this damn curse!"

    He threw the rock down on the table; it bounced and skittered against the other rocks before coming to a stop.

    Castille lifted her cup, narrowly missing an incoming stone.

    "We need access to Brimspoke Mountains. We can destroy the orb and the person who powers it. Will you help us?"

    Arwen rubbed away the tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

    "We didn''t want to become miners¡ªdidn¡¯t want to defile the resting place of our parents and grandparents. But now, it¡¯s all we have. What will happen to us if you break the curse? What will we be left with?"

    Isla perked up, raising a finger to answer the question.

    "Well, nothing will change at first, but the nobles will be able to bond with the land. It will be a slow process, but they should be able to remove the lead and arsenic from the earth.¡±

    "All the benefits of the curse and none of the downsides," Castille said.

    Arwen furrowed his brows.

    "Hmm. I''ll need to talk to the Council."

    "The Council?" Castille asked.

    "The mining crews elected me to be their leader, but we need to vote for a decision like this."

    "How long will that take?" I asked.

    "By the end of the day. I''ll hold an emergency meeting after the crews get off work."

    I raised my hand, mirroring Isla.

    "Sorry, I need to talk with the rest of my team for a second."

    We stepped away from the table and huddled near the entrance. I took one last look at Arwen and lowered my voice.

    ¡°We can still take him. He only has two guards.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± Isla whispered.

    ¡°Not gonna happen,¡± Castille said.

    "I gave Van Lagos my word. Do we really want to double-cross the Lagos brothers?"

    "Jacob. We were always going to double-cross the Lagos brothers.¡±

    She smirked.

    ¡°Why do you care so much? Is there something going on between you two?¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    She shrugged.

    ¡°You¡¯re just awfully friendly with each other.¡±

    I frowned.

    If we broke the curse, the Vangraves would return to power and, with it, law and order. The Lagos brothers would be fugitives once again, with no place to call home. Finnick was right about me. I betrayed Kirk, the mansion staff¡­ Cynthia¡­ and the Lagos brothers were next. This is who I am. Why did it leave a bitter taste in my mouth? I was supposed to be past caring about other people. I was a weapon, and everyone else was either a victim or a tool. That¡¯s why I needed Van Lagos.

    He was a useful tool that knew about the fire that didn¡¯t burn.

    "Dugan, back me up here. Van has been nothing but nice to us. He¡¯s more useful than Arwen."

    He looked at me and shook his head.

    "Wwwe came here to do a job. This is bigger than how we feel about Van Lagos."

    ¡°By the spirits, are you two in love with the man?¡± Castille asked.

    ¡°He¡¯s a hard man to hate,¡± Dugan said.

    Castille''s eyes sparkled.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s like that, is it? I¡¯m sorry for hogging all his attention.¡±

    I sighed.

    Why are they like this?

    I glanced at Isla. She was against working with the Dahlgeshi from the start. It was three-on-one, and I couldn''t do this quest by myself. Maybe there was a way through this¡ªa way to play both sides.

    "Fine. I''ll work with Arwen, but I won''t be happy about it."

    Castille smiled and punched my shoulder.

    "I knew you would see sense."

    We walked back to the table as Arwen finished talking to his bodyguards.

    "So, are we all in agreement?" Castille asked.

    Arwen returned the question with a curt nod.

    "I''ll leave at once. Eric will send word on the Council¡¯s decision."

    "That won''t work," I said.

    "Why not?"

    "The Lagos brothers could have eyes on this building. They expect us to leave with you bound and gagged."

    Arwen frowned.

    "Then what do you suggest?"

    "We kidnap you."

 The Cursed Lands Part 38

    Arwen screwed up his face as he looked at each of us.

    ¡°Are you serious?¡±

    "Only for a few hours. We¡¯ll untie you when we''re somewhere safe."

    Arwen looked down at the table, working something out behind his eyes.

    "Eric, get me some paper, a quill and ink."

    ¡°Boss, ya can¡¯t be thinking of-¡°

    ¡°Eric. We''re losing the light.¡±

    He huffed.

    "Right away, boss."

    Eric walked behind the partition, talking to the girl who served us tea. A few moments later, he returned with what Arwen had asked.

    Arwen scribbled out a quick message before handing it to the young guard.

    "Take that letter to the Council. I''ll be going with our new friends here."

    He stood up, readjusting his coat.

    "Alone, boss? I could come. Maybe I got kidnapped, too," his larger guard said.

    "Then who will watch the children, Carson? The Lagos brothers know about the daycare now. We need to take precautions.¡±

    Arwen looked at each of us with open, honest eyes.

    ¡°Besides, I trust them.¡±

    That made one of us.

    "One more thing. We''ll need to make the kidnapping look real."

    The rest of the party turned to me.

    "What do you mean?" Isla asked.

    Arwen stood straighter.

    "Alright, what do you suggest?"

    I walked over to the balding man. His once handsome face had aged like distressed leather, the tan skin rough and creased with wrinkles. Yet, his hazel eyes were still young and hopeful.

    So that¡¯s where I punched him.

    His head snapped back, throwing the rest of his body off balance as he toppled to the ground.

    I rode a wave of satisfaction from watching his limp body fall on the floor.

    That¡¯s what you get for ruining my plans.

    Isla and Eric gasped. Carson pulled his metal club free and stepped forward.

    "Wait! Wait, Carson."

    The large man stopped mid-stride.

    "But Arwen..."

    Arwen sat up, running a hand over the back of his head to check for bleeding.

    "I''m ready to go if you are."

    Stubborn, old fool.

    "Jacob!"

    Castille''s hand rammed into my shoulder, spinning me around to face her hard, grey eyes.

    "What''s wrong with you?! You could have killed him from that fall!"

    I frowned.

    "It needed to be convincing."

    Castille clenched her jaw.

    "If we can''t trust you, this all falls apart¡ªthis party¡ªthis quest and any chance you have of getting the Sanctifiers off your neck. Do you understand me? No more screwups from you. No more mistakes."

    "I didn''t make a mistake."

    She stared at me for a long moment before pushing me away.

    "You ride in the back. Stay away from Arwen."

    I scowled, fixing my coat and leaving the building.

    I didn''t make a mistake.

    # # #

    We rode back to the Pit in silence, with our prisoner bound and riding behind Castille on horseback. For a change, I wasn¡¯t the one getting strange looks in our party. We needed to make a show of Arwen¡¯s capture to buy time with the Lagos brothers, but that came with risks. Arwen was well-known and well-liked among the people, and his capture would only increase Steeltown''s growing anger toward us¡ªtowards me. By the end of the day, the rumours would spread¡ªthe ¡°elf¡± who burned all the food was now kidnapping Steeltowners out of their workshops.  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    I sighed.

    I was a stereotype. The kind of elf parents used in stories to scare their kids. The kind of elf from Mr. Reeves¡¯ history books. So be it. They didn¡¯t have to like me. Do I even like me?

    Cassandra''s face blanched when Castille pushed the bruised cartel leader through the door of the Pit. Poor woman. She must have regretted the day she set eyes on us.

    "What are you doing?! That''s one of Tiny Tom''s men!"

    "We''re holding him for the Sanctifiers," I said.

    "The Sanctifiers are right across the street! Why didn''t you drop him off there?"

    OK. Not my best lie.

    She shook her head.

    "No¡­ No¡­ This is too much¡­ Tell me what''s going on or get out of my establishment."

    ¡°Wait. I can explain-¡°

    "Cass..."

    I turned to Castille as she loosened Arwen''s bindings.

    "We¡¯ll tell you everything."

    # # #

    Cassandra and Arwen drank shots of whiskey at the empty bar. The Pit was closed today. The door was barred shut with a wooden crossbeam. The girls were told to stay in their rooms. We turned the dining area into a staging ground for tonight''s expedition. At the tables, Castille prepared our backpacks with two days'' worth of supplies and checked her equipment. Dugan was upstairs with Thor while Isla and I rested on top of bedrolls in the corner, conserving our will. We needed to be ready to leave as soon as Arwen got word from his cartel¡¯s Council.

    "I can''t believe you lied to me," Cassandra said, her head swaying as she talked.

    Castille refastened her right bracer and smiled at the red-haired woman.

    ¡°You got tricked by a pretty face."

    "I know! The irony."

    She reached for her shot glass, knocked it over and spilled alcohol over the countertop."

    "Are you going to drink that? Cause if you don¡¯t, I will," Arwen said.

    "You better be sober enough to lead us through those mines, farmer."

    "Oh, I will be. I know those mines like the back of my hand."

    Arwen looked down at his hands and frowned.

    "They''re in high spirits," Isla whispered to me.

    ¡°Uhuh.¡±

    I tried to block them out, pushing all distractions out of my mind so I could focus on what mattered.

    Utility. Misdirection¡­ Ruthlessness.

    How long had it been since I said these words to myself? The further I travelled from the capital, the easier it became to forget who I was. What I needed to be. Tonight, we were going to hunt for Nostrand Del, and I would need all of Sin¡¯s lessons just to survive.

    I took a deep breath, calming the anxious pit in my stomach.

    I am the hunter, not the hunted.

    "Jacob? Are you OK?"

    "I''m fine."

    ¡°You don¡¯t look fine.¡±

    She paused; lips pressed together in a thin line as she considered her next words.

    "Why did you punch Arwen?¡±

    ¡°I told you. The kidnapping needed to be convincing.¡±

    ¡°Tying him up would have been convincing enough for our cover."

    I rolled to my side, putting my back to her. She continued.

    "You should apologize to him. He''s helping us."

    "He made me angry," I whispered.

    "Why?"

    A chill ran through me. I wrapped my arms around myself.

    "He¡¯s weak."

    "He¡¯s kind, Jacob. Kindness isn¡¯t weakness."

    Images of Mr. Reeves flashed in my mind.

    "What¡¯s the difference?¡±

    Castille''s head jerked up from where she sat at the tables. She looked at the Pit¡¯s entrance with narrowed eyes.

    "Everyone! Quiet."

    Cassandra and Arwen¡¯s mouths clamped shut. They stared wide-eyed at the door.

    Leather soles scrapped against gravel. Heavy footsteps stomped up the wooden stairs that led to the entrance. The footfalls stopped. The silence lingered.

    I got up in a crouch, picked up my cane lying next to me and twisted out my short sword.

    Above us, the stairs creaked as Dugan appeared with his axe in hand, once again dressed in his worn leather armour.

    He passed a look to Castille, who slid her long sword out of the scabbard and walked up to the curtained windows.

    KNOCK! KNOCK!

    "Who''s there?" Castille asked.

    "Eric! We met at the daycare."

    "Come in. Just you¡ªno one else."

    Castille kicked out the crossbeam across the door, readying her sword for a downward swing at the first person to cross the threshold.

    Eric burst through the doors. He paused and gaped at Castille on his left.

    "Well, come in," Castille said.

    He nodded, running past the woman to hand Arwen a scrap of paper he pulled from his pocket.

    Castille closed the doors. Dugan walked down the fleet of stairs to help Castille put the crossbeam back in place.

    "Dugan, how''s Thor?"

    Dugan shook his head as he walked to the bar with Castille.

    So, he was still sleeping. His trick with Dugan had downsides.

    Isla and I walked to the bar as Arwen finished reading the message. He stared at the countertop, scratching his chin.

    "Good news?" Castille asked.

    "Bout as good as expected. The Lagos brothers have been quiet¡­"

    "They assumed we handed you to the Inquisitor," I said.

    Arwen nodded.

    "A fate I¡¯m happy to avoid. Anyway, the Council is on board. There''s a covered wagon out back. It''ll take us right to the Mountains."

    "Good. Then we should go. Everyone, take a pack," Castille said.

    I rolled up my bedroll, slinging the rope I bought from Elmer over my shoulder. Isla ran upstairs to pull her staff from Thor''s saddlebags; the time for deception was over. We each took a pack that Castille prepared, crowding around the Pit''s back door while we waited for our leader.

    Castille held Cassandra for a long moment, whispering something out of our earshot.

    Cassandra laughed.

    "If this place isn''t burned down by the time you return," she said.

    "Cass, I''m sorry."

    "If you''re sorry, make it back in one piece."

    They kissed.

    I turned away.

    Love¡­ Another distraction.

    We snuck out the back door and loaded ourselves into the covered wagon, with Arwen and Eric taking the lead. The wagon¡¯s driver snapped on the reins, urging its team of horses forward.

    At night, the Service Quarter came to life. The taverns overflowed with miners and workers, spending the gold they risked their lives to attain. Others wandered at the sides of the streets, picking fights with each other or being pulled into brothels by ladies of the night.

    The wagon slowed down the further we went along the street.

    "Crowd ahead, boss," the driver said.

    "Then go around, Grayson."

    A cheer erupted from the writhing mass of bodies blocking our path.

    We looked through the opening of the covered wagon.

    A makeshift scarecrow was burning. It hung from a noose over the jeering Steeltowners. Scraps of wood were pinned to the sides of its head, giving it pointed ears.

    Isla rested a hand on my forearm. I flashed her a bitter smile.

    "That¡¯ll be me next.¡±

    Castille grunted.

    "Not if we all do our jobs tonight¡­ and don¡¯t make any mistakes."

    The wagon banked to the left as the driver turned.

    I fell back against its side, my eyes on the canopy.

    Was she still angry about that?

    Arwen sat across from me. His right eye was bruised purple from where I punched him.

    "I''m sorry."

    He blinked at me in surprise.

    Castille and Dugan gave me curious looks.

    "What? It''s not the first time I''ve apologized."

    "It''s the first time I didn''t believe you," Castille said.

    I crossed my arms.

    "I guess it¡¯s because I grew up in an orphanage..."

    Arwen frowned.

    "State-run?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°I heard they were so bad the King shut ¡®em down. You think I run the daycare like that?"

    ¡°No, and that¡¯s the problem. They¡¯re not your kids. No one¡¯s paying you to take care of them. And they¡¯re an easy target if your enemies want to hurt you. I don¡¯t get it. I don''t know why you do what you do¡­¡±

    Arwen raised his eyebrows.

    "Eric? Why do we do what we do?¡±

    The young man shrugged.

    "Because it''s right."

    Arwen nodded.

    "Well, you heard the man."

    Because it''s right?

    I frowned.

    What does that mean?

 The Cursed Lands Part 39

    The wagon lurched to a stop at the foot of the mountains. We unloaded out of the back, forming a loose group around Arwen. He lit his lantern, raising it over his head. Other lanterns flashed in the distance.

    ¡°Those are our spotters. We shouldn¡¯t get disturbed,¡± Arwen said.

    We walked to the entrance of the mine, a perfect rectangle cut into the face of the mountain. In front, two men in rough spun clothes greeted Arwen. The short, hunting bows slung over their shoulders looked moments away from falling apart.

    ¡°Phil. Greg. How¡¯s it looking tonight?¡± Arwen asked.

    ¡°Quiet, Arwen. Real quiet. The attack on the Lagos brothers got everyone jumpy.¡±

    The other guard stepped forward and pushed up his wide-brimmed hat.

    ¡°We didn¡¯t see any stragglers. Everyone¡¯s rushing home to fill their plates¡­ while they still can.¡±

    He glanced at me, hawking a glob of yellow phlegm on the ground.

    ¡°Easy, Phil.¡±

    Arwen looked over the guard''s shoulders into the dark depths ahead of us.

    ¡°If the spotters start signalling, run down and find me or Eric. We should be near the dunk.¡±

    ¡°Yes, boss.¡±

    Arwen patted Phil on the shoulder, gesturing us to follow as we began our slow trek down the tunnel¡¯s gradual slope. Greg handed his lantern to Eric, who covered us from the rear.

    We walked the first few feet in silence, our shadows dancing on the tunnel¡¯s smooth-cut stone.

    ¡°Did the Steeltowners carve this tunnel?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No, this was here before the town, just like the ruins beneath the Mountains. The mining came after.¡±

    "How does the mining operation work?" Isla asked.

    "It''s a free-for-all for the most part. Both cartels are made up of twenty or more mining crews. The mining crews dig tunnels to search for veins of ore. The tunnels are cartel territory, and anything they find belongs to either us or the Lagos brothers."

    "That sounds chaotic. How do you keep track of which tunnel is which?¡±

    "The miners know. Even after the Lagos brothers shook everything up, we were able to divide the new territory. Besides, there''s always been enough to go around."

    The wide tunnel opened into a wider room. We lit lanterns pulled from our packs, illuminating particles of dust that stirred with our movement. The room reminded me of a smaller version of the Lagos estate¡¯s hall with walls of pale, grey-streaked marble and a floor of broken tiles where hundreds of feet tread.

    At the end of the hall, stairs led to a lower floor. Off to the side, a black iron cage dangled over a jagged hole.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s the dunk?¡± Castille asked.

    Arwen kicked a loose stone. It bounced off the metal cage and vanished below.

    ¡°Yep. The ruins go down four¡ªfive floors. Most of the floors have been picked clean of treasure.¡±

    "Most?" Isla asked.

    "We think some of the ruins are unexplored. There could be hidden rooms or even whole floors no one has found."

    ¡°I bet Nostrand is on a hidden floor,¡± I said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t jinx it,¡± Castille said.

    Arwen ignored us to finish his story.

    ¡°After all the treasure was cleared out, the explorers discovered ore in the walls of the lowest floor, and the rest, they say, is history.¡±

    I walked closer to the cage. Above it, a series of pulleys held it in place with braided rope. Behind it, a circular face sculpted on the wall stared back at me.

    "What''s this."

    "That''s ole pie face," Eric said.

    "They say he watches over the miners," Arwen said.

    It looked more like a sun to me. I walked closer, running my hand over the smooth, carved face. It was cool to the touch... and hungry.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "Isla! It''s enchanted."

    She dropped her staff, running to the wall to rest a hand below its right eye.

    Castille picked up Isla¡¯s staff, running a hand along the black wood grain.

    "What do you feel?"

    "It feels like it''s waiting for something."

    Beside her, I burned my will, pushing it into the face through my right hand. The energy stopped at my fingertips. Waiting? It was more like knocking on a door with no one home.

    "Is there something behind this wall?" Isla asked.

    Arwen''s mouth twitched.

    "We don''t know. It''s bad luck to mess with the face."

    Castille scoffed.

    "You''re already spirits-cursed miners. Dugan."

    He nodded, stepping out of the background to stand beside Isla with his axe held high.

    ¡°Wait!¡±

    CRACK!

    The edge of the axe sank into the face.

    Arwen and Eric''s faces paled.

    Dugan yanked his weapon free. Isla held her lantern to the narrow groove and gasped as the stone reknit itself before our eyes.

    Spirits below!

    I blinked, turning back to Castille. She raised her eyebrows.

    "Impressive."

    Isla ran her fingers over the smooth surface.

    "Incredible. Self-healing stone. I¡¯ve never seen writings about this.¡±

    Castille gave her a bitter smile.

    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised what they don¡¯t put in books.¡±

    We spent the next few minutes hacking away at different places along the wall. No matter where Dugan struck, the wall healed itself before he could break through to the other side.

    He panted, shaking his head.

    "Dugan¡¯s right. We can¡¯t spend all night banging our heads against the wall. I say we take the dunk and set our eyes on the lowest floor," Castille said.

    "I second that," Arwen said.

    Isla sighed, taking her staff back from Castille.

    ¡°If you think so.¡±

    The cage was big enough to fit two people. The black iron bars crisscrossed, leaving wide rectangular gaps in the upper half of the cage. The bottom half was lined with mesh for sure footing.

    ¡°Dugan, we''re up."

    Castille and Dugan got into the cage, their weapons drawn. The man gripped his axe until his knuckles went white.

    Was he nervous? I didn¡¯t blame him. They were descending into pitch-black darkness with only their lanterns to light the way.

    Arwen released a lock on the cage¡¯s winch while Eric turned the hand crank counterclockwise. Metal slapped against metal with rhythmic clicks as the two warriors were lowered into the abyss.

    "How will you know when to bring us up?" I asked.

    "There''s a bell at the top of the cage. Ring it hard enough, and we''ll hear."

    Isla and I waited with bated breath for the ring of a bell or a scream cut short. Instead, the winch continued to click. The pulley creaked as more rope was fed into it.

    A few minutes later, a metal clang echoed from the hole, and the rope slackened.

    "They''re at the bottom," Eric said.

    I knelt over the hole. In the darkness, two faint flames flickered.

    "Castille?!"

    "We''re good!"

    I turned to Isla. We exchanged nods.

    Eric turned the hand crank clockwise, raising the metal cage back to the first floor.

    Our turn.

    I took a deep breath before I stepped into the cage.

    "Good luck," Arwen said.

    I nodded, my eyes lingering on his bruise.

    "Keep an eye out for us."

    Isla elbowed my arm.

    "Jacob!" She whispered.

    We descended. I raised my lantern high, squinting into the darkness as it swallowed us.

    Where were you hiding, Nostrand? Somewhere in the mines or on one of these floors?

    I leaned forward, expecting to see a face in the dark.

    The cage dropped half a foot, jolting me upright.

    "Hey!"

    "Sorry! The rope got caught!"

    Isla sighed. One hand held her staff; the other held the cage in a vice grip. Her lantern lay on the floor.

    "I don¡¯t think these cages are safe."

    I smirked.

    "Safety gets in the way of profits."

    The cage scraped against the second floor.

    Isla yelped and jumped away before her left hand was crushed.

    ¡°No! Definitely not safe.¡±

    I laughed. Isla frowned.

    ¡°Why are you laughing?¡±

    I shrugged.

    ¡°Because it¡¯s funny.¡±

    ¡°I almost got hurt. That¡¯s funny to you?¡±

    ¡°No, but people getting hurt is funny¡­ generally.¡±

    She flashed a coy smile.

    ¡°So, I¡¯m not a person?¡±

    I paused. I wasn¡¯t familiar with this game. It was a trap with no right answer. So, I guessed.

    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re something more. At least to me.¡±

    Isla quirked an eyebrow before giving me a broad grin.

    ¡°That works for me.¡±

    I raised my eyebrows. I must have guessed right.

    Something more? Hmm.

    The cage banged to a stop at the bottom floor.

    Dugan was waiting for us, sitting on a rock with his axe across his lap and his lantern beside his foot.

    "Where''s Castille?" I asked.

    Dugan pointed to a side of the room that had been picked away into a series of tunnels. The room around us looked like the first floor, except for the cylindrical stone columns evenly spaced to support the four floors above.

    "Castille?!"

    "Down here. Looks like this is the opening to the mines."

    "He wouldn''t be there," Isla whispered.

    She wandered away to examine the rest of the room.

    Castille walked up from the opening, her longsword slung over one shoulder, lantern in her left hand.

    "The mine goes down forever. We should finish investigating this floor first."

    I gestured over my shoulder.

    "Isla''s on it."

    We found her hugging the corner of a wall near the metal cage.

    "You OK, girl?" Castille asked.

    Isla pressed her ear against the wall.

    "This is directly below the face on the top floor."

    I raised my lantern. While similar to the first floor, the layout was different. The stairs were on the other side of the room, and instead of a flat wall near the cage, a sharp corner faced us.

    "You don''t think..."

    I pressed my hand against the wall.

    Not hungry. Not enchanted. I twisted out my dagger and scratched the marble surface.

    The rest of the party crowded around me. The stone didn¡¯t heal.

    "I still have one hand bomb. I could blow it open."

    "Maybe I can help," Isla said.

    She placed her hand on the scratched surface. The scratch deepened. The stone around it cracked, creating a spider web of deep grooves in the wall.

    My eyes widened.

    Another type of Landbound magic?!

    Of course, as the princess of Luskaine, she was connected to all the land in the country.

    She could do¡­ anything.

    "Dugan.¡±

    Dugan stepped forward and slammed the blunt side of his axe against the wall with repeated swings. The marble chipped away in sheets, forming a hole big enough to fit your head and arm.

    Isla stuck her torso through the opening before we could stop her. She pulled it out, smiling at us in the lantern light.

    "What did you see?" Castille asked.

    ¡°Our way in. The entrance to the real lowest floor.¡±

 The Cursed Lands Part 40

    ¡°A floor lower than this one?¡± I asked.

    "Go ahead. Look."

    We each took turns sticking our heads and lanterns into the hole. The opening revealed a mine shaft or chute from the first floor to unknown depths.

    We chipped away at the opening until even Castille could crouch over the chute. I lowered my lantern over the yawning chasm.

    How far did this shaft go?

    I conjured a ball of fire and threw it down the shaft. It sputtered out three storeys down, smothered by the darkness.

    "Not bad," Isla said.

    She knelt over the hole, conjuring a ball of water that she crystallized into ice and sent tumbling down the shaft.

    I knelt beside her, straining my ears. A long moment passed before the faint sound of ice shattering against stone echoed on the walls.

    "How deep is that?" I asked.

    "Fifteen¡ªmaybe twenty storeys?"

    "That''s well over a hundred feet," Castille said.

    "Longer than my rope," I said.

    "That''s longer than all our rope combined. Unless..."

    Castille grinned, putting her arm around Dugan.

    He nodded in agreement.

    "Wwwhat''s your rope made of?"

    Isla quirked an eyebrow at Dugan''s unexpected speech.

    I dropped my pack, handing Dugan the rope I bought from Elmer.

    "It''s hemp. Why does that¡­ Oh, get it."

    Castille slapped Dugan on the back before walking up to the entrance of the shaft.

    "Going down is the easy part. Getting back up will be next to impossible, and that¡¯s assuming we aren¡¯t injured by whatever¡¯s down there."

    Isla chimed in.

    ¡°I think this shaft is part of a system to travel up and down the floors. If I go down, maybe I can get it working.¡±

    Castille sighed.

    "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

    She turned to Isla.

    "Can you help Dugan get us down?"

    Castille¡¯s grey eyes hardened to slate. It wasn''t lost on her that the noblewoman had used three different types of Landbound magic. It would make anyone suspicious of Isla¡¯s noble roots.

    "Um... Yeah, I think I can.¡±

    "Good."

    Castille turned to me.

    "Jacob, you''re up."

    I tensed at the mention of my name.

    "What?!"

    "You''re up."If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "You want me to go down there first?"

    "I want you to scout."

    "That''s a death trap!"

    "That''s your job!"

    Her hard eyes met mine with a level stare.

    "If you want to stay in this party, you need to show us¡ªshow me that you''re a team player."

    "I am! I just..."

    The eyes of the party were on me. The more I argued, the worse I would look in their eyes¡ªin Isla''s eyes. Team player? What was she talking about? I saved her life! Was she still mad that I punched Arwen? I said sorry!

    "Fine. I''ll do it."

    Castille smiled, her face beaming in the gloomy room.

    "That¡¯s the spirit!"

    I sighed. I couldn¡¯t wait for this night to be over.

    # # #

    Dugan tied together our rope and secured it around the nearest marble pillar. He closed his eyes, calling on his Landbound magic to extend the rope''s plant fibres a few feet every minute. When it was long enough, I wrapped it around my waist.

    The plan was simple. I would repel down as Dugan extended the rope. Once I scouted our landing spot, Isla would turn the rope into a rope ladder, and the rest of the party would come down. If there was trouble, Castille and Dugan would pull me up.

    I looked over the edge, and I wiped the sweat from my forehead.

    The plan was simple but not perfect. What if the rope broke? What if something or someone was waiting for me at the bottom of the shaft? What if something fell from the first floor as I climbed down?

    "Hey."

    Isla touched my forearm.

    "I think you''re brave for going down there first."

    I smiled, the tension in my shoulders easing.

    "Just doing my job."

    "Ready, Jacob?" Castille asked.

    "As I''ll ever be."

    I turned my back to the abyss, leaning backward as Castille fed me more rope. Isla passed me my lantern. I nodded to her as I took my first backward steps into the darkness.

    # # #

    The leather of my boot heels scuffed the smooth surface of the rectangular shaft. It was wide enough to fit three average people lying down head to foot and two across. In many ways, this shaft was like my life: walking backward into an unknown future, looking back at a shady past.

    I sighed.

    For the first time since breaking into that Sanctifier outpost, I was alone, and I felt¡­ empty. No Isla in my ear talking about something magic-related. No Castille to crack sarcastic jokes with. No Dugan to watch my back and Thor¡­ Eh, Thor could go.

    The sound of footfalls in front of me made me raise my lantern and almost drop it.

    Ghostly faces flashed in the lantern light.

    Faces I knew well.

    Kirk. Gren. Mr. Reeves. Mrs. Dulldrey... Cynthia.

    They stared at me from the shadows, stepping forward each time I stepped back.

    ¡°No,¡± I whispered. ¡°This isn¡¯t real.¡±

    ¡°You betrayed us, Jacob.¡±

    Their voices were a distant chorus, blending into a haunting monotone.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°You replaced us.¡±

    ¡°No...¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ll do it again¡­ you¡¯ll betray Van Lagos¡­ and you¡¯ll betray Isla.¡±

    ¡°NO!¡±

    ¡°Jacob! Is everything OK?!¡± Isla asked, her voice bouncing off the walls.

    I closed my eyes.

    A weapon. A weapon.

    I am a weapon.

    I opened my eyes, panting in short, hurried breaths.

    They were gone.

    I wiped away the sweat covering my face with clammy hands.

    ¡°Jacob?!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡±

    I was a fool. This is what happens when I forget Sin¡¯s lessons¡ªforget what I am.

    The feelings sneak in and, with it, the pain.

    I chuckled to myself.

    A weapon didn¡¯t care about others. A weapon didn¡¯t feel pain. Being a weapon¡­ It was so much easier.

    I looked down at the hemp rope tied around my waist.

    There was another way to stop feeling: one little cut, one little bolt of fire, and then a moment of pain followed by peace.

    Coward.

    I laughed, cackling to myself in the esophagus of the Mountain.

    "Jacob?!"

    "I''m fine," I lied.

    My next footstep touched the air.

    "I''m at the bottom!"

    # # #

    Castille lowered me until my feet touched a stone platform. I untied myself and crouched, burning will into my jacket to hide myself from view.

    Droplets of water splashed in shallow puddles. A wet, earthy smell made me wrinkle my nose. Nothing was here¡ªnothing alive, at least.

    I raised my lantern. The ceiling around the opening sprouted with stalactites that protruded like teeth. The floor past the stone platform was muddy and not tiled like the floors above. Walls surrounded me on four sides. I was in some kind of room.

    I exhaled and stopped burning my will.

    In front of me was a wall with two openings. A pale light shined past the doorways. I moved between them, pressing myself against the wall, almost slipping on the floor¡¯s gradual slope. Taking slow, careful steps, I worked to the entrance on my left.

    I peeked through the door and gasped at what I saw.

 The Cursed Lands Part 41

    The small room opened into a cavern as large as Steeltown. I overlooked large blocky buildings under a canopy of stars.

    I was a boy again, head tilted up at the capital''s night sky¡ªmy eyes full of wonder and fear.

    I am nothing.

    A rock clattered on the stone platform, snapping me out of my trance.

    I turned on the balls of my feet, hand on my cane. The hemp rope bobbed up and down.

    Oh, right...

    I walked over to the rope, tugging on the end.

    "Jacob! All clear?!" Castille asked.

    I looked over my shoulder.

    "All clear!"

    # # #

    I sat on the stone platform, watching the room''s entrances as I flipped my dagger in my left hand. The ropes dangling from the hole above swayed as Isla climbed down her modified rope ladder.

    It was taking forever.

    I jumped up, pacing around the rectangular stone platform.

    "Isla! What''s taking-"

    A single trembling foot stuck out of the hole.

    Finally.

    I walked up to the ladder, holding it steady as she climbed down the last few feet.

    She doubled over, her hands on her knees as she panted.

    "I don''t think I can do that again."

    "Then maybe you can do something about this."

    I stamped my foot on the stone platform.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    "Is that what I think it is?"

    I nodded, looking up at the rectangular shaft with the same dimensions.

    Isla crouched on the platform, her hands flat on the surface.

    "It¡¯s enchanted, but it feels just like the stone face."

    "Do you know why it''s not working?"

    "If I had to guess, it''s that."

    She pointed to a diamond-shaped hole at one corner of the rectangular platform. At the other corners, a red, fist-sized crystal was embedded in the stone surface.

    Could it be that simple?

    She crawled over to examine the hole on her hands and knees.

    "It''s missing a control crystal."

    My mind flashed to the ruby-eyed pommel of Sin''s knife.

    "Why does that matter?"

    She perked up, sitting on her haunches with her hands on her knees.

    "It''s an old tradition in the creation of enchanted items. The orderly structure of the crystal symbolized control, so it was incorporated into an item¡¯s design when direct control was needed. For the most part, that style was abandoned after the fall of the Old Elvish Empire, and you can see why. The objects stop working when the crystal is removed or damaged."

    I examined my dagger; outside the gold trim, it looked ordinary.

    "Then our Nostrand Del is a traditionalist."

    "For some people, the old ways are best."

    "Not you?"

    She shook her head.

    "We should improve on what our parents build, not imitate it."

    Her face fell, her eyes becoming distant.

    ¡°Anyway¡­¡±

    She shot up, clapping her hands together to snap herself out of her sudden sadness.

    "The good news is if I can find a crystal roughly the same size, I can get this platform working."

    She looked up at the hole.

    "Did you hear that, Castille!"

    "Yes! The sooner, the better!"

    Isla smiled at me. Her love of magic was contagious.

    I fought to keep my face neutral. I walked closer to her to examine the corner with the missing crystal.

    "Couldn''t you¡ªyou know, create the crystal instead."

    She looked away, scratching her cheek with a dirty finger.

    "I could try, but I¡¯ve never practiced with minerals. It would be easier to build off something that already exists."

    "Like the rope?"

    "Exactly."

    "We should be able to find..."

    I cocked my head.

    Footsteps squelched in the mud.

    Careless. I turned my back to the entrance to talk to Isla.

    "Jacob?"

    I pressed my right hand against her mouth, burning my will into the jacket.

    Squelch...

    Squelch...

    Squelch...

    Isla''s eyes bulged at whoever¡ªwhatever was behind me. At least our lanterns were on the platform and not in our hands.

    I closed my eyes, forcing myself to take slow, quiet breaths. Whatever was behind me couldn''t see us¡ªcouldn''t hurt us¡­ yet.

    I set my shoulders, taking one last, long breath before turning to see what was behind me.

 The Cursed Lands Part 42

    Two round, red crystals glinted in the face of the thing in the doorway. The vague humanoid form walked with an unnaturally fluid gait with a slender body carved from dark stone. The centre of its chest was cracked, and tendrils of gold spilled from the wound, wrapping around its torso.

    A heart of gold. Ironic.

    I pulled Isla down into a crouch, hoping to duck under the stone man¡¯s view and conserve my will. Those crystals must have been its eyes. It crept forward, not noticing us huddled on the other side of the platform.

    Squelch...

    Squelch...

    Scrape...

    It stepped onto the platform, stopping at the rope ladder.

    No¡­ It wouldn¡¯t...

    The stone man¡¯s slender fingers grabbed the rope and pulled, shaking the ladder left and right.

    "Hey! What''s going on down there?!" Castille shouted.

    My stomach clenched, pins and needles prickling my back and neck.

    If she fell from fifteen stories up...

    I turned to Isla.

    She raised her hand and nodded.

    A stream of water shot from her palm, knocking the stone man off balance. The water dripping off it froze, hanging off the stone man like the fins of a caught fish.

    I flipped my dagger, holding it by the blade and throwing it pommel first. The knob handle smashed into the side of its crystal eye, toppling the stone man and pulling down a section of the rope ladder.

    THUMP!

    We held our breath, waiting for Castille''s scream¡ªfor the second thud of her body hitting the platform.

    We waited¡­ and were greeted with silence.

    "Castille!"

    "What are you two doing?! I thought that was it for me!"

    Isla breathed a sigh of relief.

    "Something attacked us! The ladder¡¯s destroyed!"

    "Dugan! Can you extend the rope?!"

    "Will do."

    I willed my dagger into my left hand, walking up to the strange creature. Its body was like a life-sized doll with articulated ball joints down to the finger. It was the work of a master craftsman¡ªa shame it had to be destroyed.

    Its head turned to me. Its body trembled, trying to move. The water had seeped into its joints and froze, locking them in place. I knelt beside it. My dagger cracked one of its crystal eyes. The other eye gleamed with dark intelligence.

    Now, that won¡¯t do.

    I sank the tip of my dagger into its face, prying the undamaged crystal out of its socket.

    The stone man went limp.

    Go for the eyes. Good to know.

    I tossed the crystal to Isla.

    "Do you think you can build something off of that?"

    She crouched down and inspected it against the lantern light.

    "As long as I''m careful. The crystal lattice needs to be perfect."

    "We have time."

    Squelch...

    Squelch...

    Squelch...

    Maybe not. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "Castille! More of those things are coming! We''re going to lead them away!"

    I sheathed my dagger, picked up one of the lanterns and grabbed Isla by the hand.

    ¡°Keep up.¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°I will.¡±

    We ran through the right entrance. I turned to the left to see the source of the noise. Four stone men were walking to the other entrance, carrying pickaxes and shovels.

    I threw my lantern, shattering it against the closest enemy. Burning my will, I stoked the lantern''s fire to engulf the stone men. It wouldn''t hurt them, but it would distract them, and that was the first half of misdirection.

    "Come on!"

    We slipped down the muddy hill into the underground town, running through its streets and ducking between its short, stocky buildings. Through the buildings¡¯ doorless entrances, we glimpsed stone men at work. Some stone men carved stone or stood at furnaces smelting ore. Other stone men were artisans who worked on metal skeletons that resembled the first step of their creation.

    "It''s incredible! Who would have guessed there was an entire civilization beneath our feet."

    I pressed myself against the wall of an abandoned building, panting as I looked around the corner.

    "Priorities, Isla."

    "Hey, I''m doing my part."

    She raised the crystal I plucked out of the stone man¡¯s face; it was bigger but not by much.

    I let out a sigh.

    "Do you know what these things are?"

    She shook her head, clutching the crystal to her chest with both hands.

    "No. They weren''t in the archives or any book I''ve ever read. They''re enchanted objects, but¡­ they have minds of their own."

    "At least we know how to kill them."

    "Are we killing them?"

    "What do you mean?"

    "Destroying the control crystals only makes them dormant like the platform."

    Her eyes fixed on the growing rock before her.

    "Or were they ever alive to begin with?"

    The question made me uncomfortable. I changed the subject.

    "We need to create a bigger distraction. Something to keep their eyes on us and not on the platform room."

    I looked up.

    That might work.

    ¡°Isla, can you create handholds in this wall?¡±

    # # #

    I scaled the building by pale starlight. It was a short climb; like most structures in the town, the building was a few stories tall. The rooftop was flat, with a waist-tall wall around its edge. I swung my legs over the side and crouched down. I didn''t want to get seen¡­ yet.

    I stalked to the other side of the roof and peeked over the barrier. In the middle of the town, one structure stood out against the skyline: a step pyramid with a familiar orb hovering at its peak. The enchanted object was ten times bigger than the one in the Lagos brother''s hall, with dozens of rings rotating around its golden core.

    I picked up my jaw.

    Focus.

    I slipped off my pack and ruffled through Castille¡¯s supplies until I found the last thing I bought from Elmer: the flask of oil. It wasn¡¯t enough for the distraction I had in mind, but I would have to make it work.

    I couldn¡¯t depend on Isla for everything.

    The flask¡¯s cork was pulled free with a thonk, and I splashed the contents over the rooftop. I snapped my fingers, creating a spark to light the oil. Small red flames danced over the rooftop in what amounted to little better than a kitchen fire.

    I frowned.

    Not big enough.

    I burned more will, fanning the flames like a furnace¡¯s bellows. Tongues of fire rose to my knees.

    More...

    The heat in my hands bloomed. The phantom pain of bubbling skin ran up to my wrists. The fire turned orange in hue, and gouts of flame rose to my waist.

    More!

    KABOOM!

    The oil exploded into a bonfire. A wave of pressure knocked me across the roof. The back of my thighs slammed against the edge, spinning me head over heels to land on my stomach.

    "Jacob!"

    I shook the stars out of my eyes, licking the blood from my split lip.

    "Do you think that worked?"

    Across the town, alarm bells rang.

    Isla cocked her head.

    "Yeah, I think it did. We need to hide. Can you stand?"

    "Yeah¡­"

    I staggered to my feet, leaning against the wall of the building.

    It hurt to breathe.

    Some of my ribs felt... loose.

    I coughed up dark red blood; a stabbing pain in my chest brought me back down to my knees.

    "No, you can''t. Let''s get you inside," Isla said.

    She supported me as I limped through the entrance of the abandoned building.

    It was becoming a habit.

    The first floor was a room with an old wooden table and chair off to the side. A net bag hung from the ceiling filled with glowing stones that cast the room in a familiar pale light.

    Isla set me down in the chair and ran back to the entrance. She pressed her hand against the wall next to the opening, sealing it shut in matching grey slate.

    As the opening closed, her shoulders slumped.

    "I can''t believe you! Are you trying to die?!"

    She walked across the room, slamming the red crystal on the table¡ªit was almost as big as her fist.

    I tried to laugh but winced instead.

    "Why are you surprised? Only someone with a death wish would do this quest."

    She pressed her palm against my chest.

    "Ow!"

    Isla stared at me; her eyes hard for the first time since I met her.

    ¡°Listen to me! We are NOT going to die here!"

    A moment later, warm, soothing energy flowed through my chest. I relaxed, slumping into the chair.

    "Whatever you say, princess.¡±

    She frowned.

    "I''m not a princess¡­¡±

    ¡°Then what are you?¡±

    She chewed on her bottom lip, an internal war waging behind her eyes.

    ¡°I''m a bastard,¡± she whispered. ¡°The love child of the King of Luskaine and a maid from his summer home."

    My eyes widened.

    A bastard?

    I blinked at her. To Luskaine¡¯s nobility, there was little difference between bastards and foulborn. To them, they were all vermin that siphoned away the magical potential of real nobles.

    No wonder she was shy.

    "You''re like me¡­"

    She snorted.

    "If you say so. Wow¡­ My healing has never been this strong."

    I smiled through blood-spattered teeth.

    "Conviction."

    "I think you''re right. If only there were some way to stay like this."

    I stared at Isla, and in her determined eyes, I saw... no one.

    Not Kirk. Not Cynthia. Not Cindra.

    Just... Isla.

    "Why are you doing this quest? To be raised to nobility? To stop being a bastard?¡±

    "What?! No, nothing like that. I¡¯m doing this quest because I want to become stronger.¡±

    She grimaced.

    ¡°I NEED to become stronger. It''s my father. I think someone¡¯s trying to kill him."

 The Cursed Lands Part 43

    I furrowed my brows.

    Kill the King of Luskaine? Good luck.

    "Isn¡¯t he well protected?" I asked.

    "He is, but he''s also sick, and it''s getting worse. The best healers in the country have tried everything, but nothing¡¯s worked."

    She lowered her voice.

    "I think it''s the man in black."

    I jolted up in my seat, lurching back from the stabbing pain in my chest.

    "What?!"

    "What?"

    I blinked at her.

    "What''s that about a man in black?!"

    "Oh..."

    She looked down, focusing on her healing.

    ¡°My mother¡­ A man in black killed her.¡±

    I stared at her with wide eyes.

    A man in black. Could it be¡­

    ¡°Tell me what happened.¡±

    ¡°Why do you want to know?¡±

    ¡°Just¡­ humour me.¡±

    She blinked at me and then sighed.

    "Fine¡­ I was a little girl when it happened. It was nighttime, and a terrible wind woke me up. I went to look for my mother¡­¡±

    She closed her eyes.

    ¡°I remember¡­ walking down the hallways of the summer estate. Her door was cracked open.¡±

    She shook her head.

    Something about it was wrong. So wrong. I walked to the door and looked through the crack. And there he was¡ªa hooded man dressed in all black with something covering his face.

    "That something. Was it like stocking?"

    "Yes, like black stocking. He was standing over my mother''s bed... I ran away and hid under my covers. The next day, she was dead. No wounds. No signs of struggle. Her heart... it just stopped."

    Her voice fell to a whisper, and as the volume of her voice dropped, so did her healing.

    Conviction: a double-edged sword.

    She opened her eyes. The determination was gone, and in its place, sadness found somewhere to roost. She wiped away the tears rolling down her cheek.

    "My mother and father were childhood friends. He was a prince, and she was a commoner who lived in the neighbouring village. When they got older, she got a job as a maid at the estate, and he would visit every year just to see her. When he became betrothed to his current wife, they consummated their relationship¡­ and had me."

    Firstborn and a bastard?

    That was dangerous. She could challenge the line of succession if the King raised her to nobility.

    "Why would someone kill your mother?"If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    "To hurt my father by hurting us. To show him he can¡¯t protect the people he loves¡­ The day after she died, he smuggled me to the capital to keep me safe. My father has always cared for me¡­ always looked after me... Now I want to take care of him."

    She blinked away tears.

    "I''m sorry. Heh, my healing isn''t working."

    "I¡¯ll live."

    I touched my chest and winced. My broken ribs were now bruised¡ªnot ideal, but an improvement. Between pained breaths, I thought over what Isla said.

    Another sighting of the man in black. Another woman killed in her bed. It had to be him. My anger flared. I pushed it down before it simmered to the surface. Now wasn¡¯t the time.

    "How did you know?" Isla asked.

    "Know what?"

    "About the face mask? How did you know what it looked like?"

    "A lucky guess."

    Isla narrowed her eyes.

    She knew I was lying, but I couldn¡¯t tell her the truth. I was trained by the people who killed her mother¡­ by the people who were killing the King.

    Sin¡­ Who are you?!

    THUMP!

    Isla jumped as something heavy slammed against the sealed opening.

    THUMP!

    "They''re here!" I said.

    I got to my feet, rubbing my chest. Isla snatched the red crystal off the table.

    "Isla?!"

    The voice was muffled but familiar.

    "Castille?!"

    Isla ran up to the door, creating a small opening in the stone. Castille''s grey eyes looked through the hole, scanning the room.

    "Are you alright?"

    "Mostly."

    Castille rapped her knuckles on the door.

    "Then open this thing."

    # # #

    Isla opened the door wide enough for us to squeeze through and slip around into the alleyway. Dugan stood guard at the alley¡¯s edge, watching around the corner. I leaned against the wall; the fire at the top of the building was still burning.

    Have I been fueling it this whole time?

    I reached out to the flames with that phantom third limb and smothered the fire. It petered out into dying embers.

    Castille handed Isla her staff and nodded to me.

    "Nice trick. We wouldn''t have found you without that signal fire."

    I frowned.

    "I don''t get it. Those stone men should have swarmed us like ants."

    "We smashed up a few on our way here. Too few for the size of this town."

    Castille sighed.

    "We should leave."

    "What?!"

    I coughed, doubling over from the aching pain in my chest.

    She put her hands on her hips.

    "You''re hurt. I say we fall back to the platform and buy time while Isla gets it working."

    I glanced at Isla. She was focused on the red crystal in her hands.

    "Are we leaving because of me? Are you kicking me out of the party?"

    Castille gave me a sad smile.

    "No, Jacob, you did well, but look around. This is bigger than us now. This isn¡¯t a hunt for one man.¡±

    She grimaced.

    ¡°This is a war.¡±

    She was right. How many stone men were down here? Hundreds? Thousands? We would have to fight through an army to face Nostrand Del.

    I shook my head.

    "We can¡¯t leave now. He''ll be ready for us next time."

    "Then we come back faster than he expects and with reinforcements."

    "I''m done!" Isla shouted, holding up the fist-sized red crystal in her hand. ¡°I can fix the platform.¡±

    Castille smirked.

    "That settles it. Let¡¯s go."

    "C-Castille," Dugan whispered.

    "Dugan?"

    "Mmmovement."

    Castille walked up to Dugan, looking over the kneeling man.

    "They''re trying to encircle us. Jacob, do you remember the way to the platform?"

    "Yeah."

    "Then lead the way. Isla, follow him."

    I pushed myself off the wall, stretching the sore muscles in my chest.

    "OK. Let''s do this."

    # # #

    I jogged through the streets with my short sword unsheathed.

    Out of the corner of my eye, red crystals glinted¡ªshambling limbs ducked out of view.

    "They''re herding us like sheep."

    "Then we break through before they box us in. Cut right around the next corner. Dugan and I will take the lead."

    I did as Castille commanded, cutting around the corner to see a handful of stone men armed with pickaxes and shovels blocking the way. Dugan charged past me, bashing into their line with his wooden shield. Castille followed a moment later, half-swording her long sword in two hands¡ªpommel first. She hooked one stone man¡¯s slender leg with her cross guard, tripping it to the ground.

    "Aim for the eyes!" Isla said, running past me. I followed a few steps behind, wheezing out shallow breaths.

    "Aye!" Castille said, stabbing the sword''s tip into the stone man''s eyes.

    "Did you hear that, Dugan?"

    "Of course."

    He bashed the side of his shield into an advancing stone man''s face.

    We were moving together like one beast¡ªan animal with the drive and will to survive. We would survive. Who could stop us?

    The hair on the back of my neck raised.

    I paused and turned to face the source of the eerie sensation.

    Twenty stone men blocked the other side of the alley, and one stood head and shoulders above the rest.

    The stone men parted as it walked forward. Its face was a mask of smooth, polished gold that went down to cover the top half of its chest. A golden halo flared behind its head like the rays of the sun. A sleeveless white robe draped over its body of black stone. In its right hand was a staff of two golden snakes intertwined to face each other with a fist-sized ruby floating between their open mouths.

    In that moment, I had no doubt who was in front of me.

    Nostrand Del.

 The Cursed Lands Part 44

    Two red, faceted gems stared at me.

    "Who are you?"

    The voice was metallic, bouncing off a hollow, metal cavity.

    My jaw dropped.

    It could talk¡­

    The thing that was Nostrand Del blinked, the golden metal of its face acting as naturally as skin.

    "Are you one of my son''s whelps or, perhaps, a great-grandson?"

    What should I say?

    His sons were the ones who overthrew him; he should hate them, but would that hatred carry over to his descendants? We were still a family, after all.

    "Yes, I am your¡­ uh¡­ great-great-grandson."

    "I see¡­ Kill him."

    I sighed.

    It was worth a shot.

    The ruby in Nostrand¡¯s staff flared red and the stone men rushed forward, their pickaxes and shovels held high. With my free hand, I caught the pickaxe of one of the stone men at the top of its swing. I pushed the weapon to the side to slam the pommel of my short sword into its eye. I stepped back, avoiding a wide swing of another stone man. I stabbed it under the eye and twisted, popping out the crystal.

    Was that the best they could do?

    These stone men fought like townsfolk instead of soldiers or mercenaries. The only advantage they had was numbers.

    "Jacob!"

    I looked back.

    Dugan and Castille had cleared the away. They were running back in my direction. Isla''s eyes were wide with fear.

    What? What is it?

    I followed her eyes to see Nostrand Del with his finger raised in my direction.

    I took a step back. Not that it would''ve helped.

    "Gelatus.¡±

    Every muscle.

    Every joint in my body.

    Froze.

    High Elvish! Spoken High Elvish! The First Magic.

    I strained to move... anything. I couldn¡¯t blink. My eyes could only move left and right. My lungs took shallow breaths. It was not a mercy. Nostrand Del didn''t want to kill me. That¡¯s what the stone men were for.

    "Pick him up," Dugan said.

    He ran in front of me, deflecting a pickaxe aimed at my head with his shield. A moment later, Castille''s lean, strong arms wrapped around my waist and hoisted me in the air.

    "Isla, cover us!"Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    A familiar fog filled the alley, hiding Nostrand Del and his stone men¡¯s bodies from view but leaving the glow of their red eyes.

    Over the heavy footfalls of my party, a metallic voice rang out.

    "So much will. Yes, you must be of my line. Do not think you can escape this easily, child of my blood."

    "Dugan?"

    "On it."

    The short man threw down a length of rope wrapped around his waist. The same rope that the first stone man tore during Castille''s climb down. The hemp fibres writhed to life, tangling the legs of the advancing stone men. It would buy us time¡ªenough time to get away.

    # # #

    We ran for the platform. I bounced up and down on Castille''s shoulder. Facing down, I stared at the dirt, flashes of Castille''s boot heels and Isla''s worried face.

    "Can you fix him?" Castille asked between heaves of breath.

    Isla''s face blanched.

    "No! This is spoken High Song. I don''t know what to do."

    "You hear that, Jacob! You''re stuck as a statue. We¡¯ll keep you around as a coat rack."

    "Ugh¡­ Yuh," I said.

    "Castille, this is serious!"

    She laughed.

    "Aye, I know, but let me laugh; it''s how I cope."

    "W-We''re here!"

    Castille slowed down to hike up the small hill to the platform room. She crossed the entrance, placing me face-up on the cool stone. My left arm was fixed forward, short sword in my hand, pointing at the dark shaft above. Tears pooled in my unblinking eyes.

    This was my life now, trapped in the prison of my body.

    Weak. Pathetic. Useless.

    They should have left me to die.

    No!

    Shay. He could do it. He could fix me. There was hope. We just needed to make it out of this spirits-cursed cavern.

    "Isla, what''s wrong?" Castille asked.

    "I inserted the missing crystal, but the platform isn''t working!"

    "Castille, more are coming," Dugan said.

    She grunted.

    "When it shits, it pores."

    "I think you mean rains."

    "Quiet! Let me think... Dugan!"

    "Yeah."

    "Pull down the rope. Let''s do that trick again. Isla, get that platform working!"

    They buzzed around me, their feet almost trampling my body. Castille and Dugan pulled down the rope ladder, our one lifeline to the surface. With nothing to do except watch, it gave me time to think and understand Castille¡¯s gamble.

    We were too tired to make the climb to the fifth floor. At least not before Nostrand Del and his stone men pulled us down. She put all our hopes on getting the platform working but there was another option.

    Castille could have climbed the ladder while Dugan and Isla made a last stand to buy her time. She was the most suited for it; her lean, strong form was built for endurance. Warning Steeltown about Nostrand Del was more important than our survival. We were only three soldiers in this war. Yet, Castille was willing to sacrifice herself and Steeltown for us.

    For me...

    "I figured it out! Two of the other crystals are cracked."

    "Can you fix it?"

    "I think so!"

    "Then hurry! Dugan, take the other door!"

    Isla darted around me, muttering under her breath, kneeling out of my view. At the front of the room, metal and stone clashed.

    "They got arrows," Dugan said.

    "Isla!"

    "Almost there!"

    An arrow whizzed by on my left, cracking into the wall behind me. Another bounced off my short sword, skittering across the platform.

    "I got it! Get on!"

    The shaft lit up with the same pale white light as the underground sky. The square rings of glowing stone were evenly spaced along the shaft¡¯s smooth surface.

    THUMP! THUMP!

    Castille and Dugan crashed beside me on the stone platform.

    "Go! Go! Go!"

    My stomach sank as the platform launched off the floor.

    Beside me, Isla sighed.

    "That was close."

    "You did it! You could kiss you, girl!"

    "Please don''t."

    "Hmph."

    "Dugan? What''s wrong?"

    "We almost died."

    He was right, and this was just the beginning. We had seen Nostrand Del in the stony flesh, and he had seen us. Something told me he wouldn''t sit around and wait for us to come back with reinforcements.

    "I know. For now, let¡¯s regroup and fix this one."

    Castille kicked my shin.

    "You alright, Jacob?"

    Isla''s hand pressed against my forehead.

    "Ohhh," I said.

    "This is terrible. No wonder the Sanctifiers banned spoken High Song."

    Spirits spare me. They only did that to keep the First Magic for themselves.

    "UHH EM!"

    "See, even Jacob agrees."

    Castille sighed.

    "We''ll need to beg that Inquisitor for help. How much will it cost us, you think?"

    "You mean cost him," Dugan said.

    Isla shook her head.

    "Only his dignity. The Inquisitor likes him."

    "I don''t think she likes anyone past their usefulness."

    The platform jerked to an abrupt stop. The side of the wall opened like a yawning mouth to reveal Eric and Arwen on the top floor.

    ¡°What in the¡­ Why are you coming out of ole pie face?¡±

    "What happened to the dunk? What happened to Jacob?!" Arwen asked.

    "We¡¯ll explain on the way back," Castille said.

    She glanced down at me and frowned.

    "Arwen, I hope you brought a stretcher."

 The Cursed Lands Part 45

    They loaded me into the covered wagon for a tense ride back into town. As the morning rays broke over the horizon, Castille and Dugan lifted me by stretcher through the Pit¡¯s doors and up to their room. They set me down on the bed next to Thor. The pack animal had slept through everything.

    Lucky him.

    They disappeared out of view, leaving me alone with my thoughts¡­ and Isla. She pulled up one of the side table''s chairs next to the bed to watch over my rigid body.

    Hours passed until knuckles rapped on the bedroom door.

    "Who is it?"

    ¡°It¡¯s me. Castille."

    Isla pushed her chair back and shuffled out of view, clutching her black staff close to her body.

    The door creaked open, and the footfalls of two or more people stamped towards me.

    If only I could lift my head.

    Something tapped my foot¡ªthe tip of a finger traced its way up my thigh.

    Reed¡­

    She loomed over me, her half-lidded eyes fixed on my frozen face.

    "Oh, I could get used to this."

    "We brought you here to fix him, not tease him, Inquisitor," Castille said.

    Reed smirked, smiling at someone at the foot of the bed.

    "Why not both?"

    She unbuttoned the black, double-breasted jacket of her uniform.

    What kind of fix did she have in mind?

    The jacket swung open. Her torso was wrapped in lavender cloth that rippled and writhed.

    It shot into the air in a flurry of fabric, swirling on the ceiling until it took a familiar, human shape.

    Isla gasped; something wooden clattered on the floor.

    Shay?!

    He towered over me at his full height, his head almost brushing the ceiling. A bemused smile curled his full lips.

    "You''re in quite the mess, child."

    "UH UHHH!"

    He let out a deep and throaty laugh.

    "Knowing is half the battle."

    "Enough talk. Can you fix him or not, revenant?" Castille asked.

    "A revenant?!" Isla said.

    "He can fix him. Shay, please proceed," Reed said.

    He leaned over the bed, inspecting me like an ill-fitting suit. His long, silky black hair slid off his shoulders to frame his face.

    "I could do it, but I won¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Because, my dear apprentice, you need me at full strength."

    Apprentice?! Reed is Shay''s apprentice? When did that happen?

    Reed looked up at the immortal tailor, an unreadable expression on her face.

    "I hate that you''re right."

    "Get used to it."

    He pointed his chin at me.

    "Now, you do it. You need the practice.¡±

    Hey! Did I get a say?

    ¡°UHH AH UHUHHH!¡±

    He laughed.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine. I trained her myself.¡±

    Reed stalked to the head of the bed and crouched down until her mouth was next to my ear. She inhaled, hesitated and then whispered.

    ¡°Liber¡­¡±

    The stiffness in my muscles melted away.

    I gasped, sucking in my first deep breath in hours.

    Pain blossomed in my chest. I doubled over, groaning from my bruised ribs. Thor cracked open an eye and let out an annoyed grunt at his noisy bedmate.

    Everything¡­ HHHUUURRRTTT!!!

    From my dry, red eyes to my left shoulder fixed to keep my sword arm raised in the air.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    I dropped my weapon onto the bed, rolling on my side and curling into myself.

    "Dugan," Castille said.

    "Right."

    Dugan moved past Shay and Reed, resting his thick fingers against my temple to begin his healing.

    I melted into the bed, letting the warm, soothing energy flow into me.

    Spirits below! Finally, relief.

    With tired, bloodshot eyes, I watched Reed fall back into Isla''s chair, wincing and rubbing the side of her head. Shay fluttered to her side. He crouched low until his face was level with hers. In my drunken daze, I strained my ears.

    "I used too much will," she whispered.

    "The first time is always the hardest, apprentice. If you¡¯re running low, use your will well.¡±

    "Yes, mother,¡± Reed said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

    He chuckled under his breath.

    ¡°Don¡¯t complain if you don¡¯t want advice. Although, I am impressed. He has a strong will, and his body hums with enchantment."

    "Don''t all Landbound?"

    "No, this is different. He has a second enchantment passed down from an ancestor¡ªpossibly a parent."

    "Interesting... That could be useful."

    "Reed! What are you talking about over there?" I asked.

    "Oh, nothing. Just you.¡±

    She smiled and then straightened in the chair, her appearance turning formal.

    "Castille mentioned your adventure into the Mountains. What happened?"

    I passed glances from Dugan to Castille. The same question was in our eyes and the tips of our tongues.

    Can we trust her?

    As much I hated the Sanctifiers, Reed had been honest with me. She was awful but predictably awful, and right now, we needed that reliability.

    I scanned for Isla¡¯s face in the people looking at me. She was off to the side, staring at Shay with awestruck eyes.

    He had that effect.

    Castille shrugged.

    "Well, we needed reinforcements. Let¡¯s tell her."

    # # #

    Reed thrummed the armrest of the chair with her fingertips. As we explained what we saw under the Mountain, her eyebrows knit closer and closer together. Behind her eyes, a thousand plans were unravelling or falling into place. With Sanctifiers, who could tell which was which? In one abrupt motion, she shot up from the chair and marched across the room, waving Isla aside before tearing open the bedroom door. One of her black-clad servants stood at attention.

    "Special Inquisitor?"

    "Send messengers to the cartel leaders. The mines are shut down until further notice. There will be a meeting here in the afternoon. Invite all members of the Steeltown Compact."

    "B-But, Special Inquisitor, we can''t shut down the mines!"

    Reed cocked her head, and the colour drained from the servant¡¯s face. I couldn¡¯t see the Inquisitor¡¯s expression, but whatever the servant saw chilled him to the bone.

    "WE can do whatever WE want.¡±

    Reed slammed the door before the man could respond. Her shoulders slumped for a moment before pulling back as she fixed her posture. So even the Special Inquisitor had a breaking point. I would laugh if we weren¡¯t in the same wagon.

    Reed turned to face us. She was like a pillar of marble, her face etched with resolve. Was it focus or conviction that gave her such a strong will?

    "Jacob, I would like you and your party to come to the meeting."

    I pushed myself up against the headboard, brushing aside Dugan''s meaty hand.

    "You know something, Reed. What aren''t you telling us?¡±

    I pointed to Shay.

    ¡°And what''s a revenant?! Castille, you seem to know."

    The Northern woman frowned, crossing her arms.

    "It''s something I¡¯ve seen at the border¡ªsoldiers that keep fighting after getting run through by spears and swords."

    My stomach sank. Old images of Lord Severn flashed through my mind. The way he stood up after Sin slashed his throat¡­ The way he was able to launch one final attack.

    She nodded at Shay.

    "This one gives me the same shivers. He''s somewhere between the living and dead."

    Shay flashed a smug smile.

    "A simplistic explanation but correct. I am a revenant, but there is a world of difference between me and a common soldier.¡±

    He turned to Isla.

    "You, child. What are the three pillars of will?"

    Isla took a step back.

    ¡°Oh... Um... Focus, power, and conviction. Focus for the mind, power for the body and conviction for the spirit."

    Shay nodded along.

    "Correct. If your conviction is strong enough, you can persist after the death of your body. It''s no surprise that you''ve seen revenants at the border, warrior. Surviving the No Man''s Land between the two countries requires a strong will, and revenge is a powerful motivator."

    "But revenants are temporary. They pass on in hours¡ªsometimes days,¡± Isla said. She looked away, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. ¡°At least, that''s what the books say."

    "No, child. You¡¯re correct. Conviction is fickle by nature. You need a strong goal to persist without a living vessel. All it takes is one moment of doubt to lose your will and have your quintessence spill from your body. Very few persist longer than a day."

    "Then how have you lived for hundreds of years?" I asked.

    "I have a strong goal, and I cheat."

    "Cheat?"

    "Will wells," Reed said, rolling up her right sleeve to reveal the golden bracer she wore during her training.

    Isla¡¯s eyes bugled.

    "I knew that was a will well! Can I touch it?!"

    Reed eyed the enthusiastic girl with a suspicious glance.

    "My pleasure."

    Isla took timid steps to the Inquisitor, wrapping her hands around Reed¡¯s wrist.

    ¡°It¡¯s warm!¡±

    Shay nodded.

    "The elves have cherished gold since before they descended to the Abyssal Lands. It symbolizes perfection and, among its many qualities, is a sensitivity to will. Through Enchantment, we can create will wells that store our unused will for later use. That will is the warmth you feel, child. The warmth of enchanted gold."

    Shay raised his index finger, letting it unravel to reveal braided, golden thread where there should be bone.

    "When I enchanted myself, my body died, and I lost the main pillar of will: power. The will well that runs through me now is a poor replacement. A backup reserve for when conviction is not enough. I suspect Nostrand Del does the same."

    Castille groaned.

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me he¡¯s a revenant, too?¡±

    ¡°Based on your description, he must be.¡±

    Isla¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°Do you know what this means?¡±

    ¡°No, but it looks like you do,¡± I said.

    ¡°Even with a will well, Nostrand Del couldn¡¯t have survived over a hundred years underground without incredible conviction. And incredible conviction means-¡±

    ¡°Incredible will. Yes, this Nostrand Del might be stronger than me,¡± Shay said.

    For the first time in the conversation, Reed frowned.

    ¡°An Enchanter stronger than you. That doesn¡¯t bode well.¡±

    I wrapped my arms around myself to stop from shivering. With a single word, Nostrand Del had reached in and taken control of my body. He changed me¡ªturned me into that boy again, that orphan huddling in an alleyway, waiting to die.

    No!

    That boy was dead, and his fear should die with him.

    But how?

    Shay had given me the answer¡­ Knowledge.

    "H-How does it work? How does the First Magic work?¡±

    All eyes in the room turned to me. Reed looked at me like a goblet of cheap wine.

    "You''re playing a dangerous game, Jacob. I could have you flogged just for asking that."

    "I-I need to know. Just enough to protect myself¡­ Enough to win."

    The corners of Reed¡¯s mouth tugged into a smile.

    "I do like winners. Shay?¡±

    The revenant rubbed his chin, scanning the nervous faces in the room.

    "Who plays the more dangerous game, apprentice?"

    "Me, of course, but I¡¯m a winner."

    They smiled at each other. The relationship was unnerving. What had Reed done to get in Shay''s good graces, and what game was she playing?

    "Very well. I will explain¡ªonly the basics.¡±

    I sat up in the bed. Castille kept her arms crossed, her jaw clenching and unclenching. Dugan sat down in Isla''s chair while the young mage picked up her staff and wrung the wooden shaft. Thor was asleep¡ªhis loss.

    The First Magic. The ancient power of the elves. The power they used to warp the world.

    Finally, I would learn.

 The Cursed Lands Part 46

    Tension fell over the room. Anticipation. Curiosity. Fear. Shay lapped up our emotions, eyeing each of us with a self-important grin before speaking.

    ¡°The First Magic is the ability to enforce your will on reality through naming and renaming.¡±

    Naming? Renaming?

    I screwed up my face. Shay continued.

    ¡°When the elves descended to this plane, they discovered a world without language. In their hubris, they named the objects around them, and, to their surprise, the world changed to match their whims. On this plane, the High Elvish language is supernatural.¡±

    Reed raised a gloved finger.

    "High Song, Shay.¡±

    "I know we changed the name, apprentice. I just don¡¯t care.¡±

    She flashed a bitter smile.

    "Suit yourself."

    "I will... Now, the First Magic requires three things: The ability to speak High Elvish, visualization, and will."

    ¡°Sounds easy,¡± I said.

    ¡°It is. In the old days, everyone could use the First Magic. The only thing that separated the fine wool from the coarse was will. These days almost everything has a name. Instead, we use renaming to manipulate the properties of named objects. Each time we rename an object, we bend reality. The further we bend it, the more will is consumed. Those with extraordinary will can bend reality until it breaks, creating the supernatural.¡±

    He pointed at me. My body tensed.

    ¡°That is Enchantment, child."

    ¡°Breaking reality? You do that every time you speak High Elvish.¡±

    ¡°The process is supernatural, but the result doesn¡¯t have to be. For example, what Nostrand Del did to you was not Enchantment. He fixed you in a pose by controlling your muscles. That¡¯s why you''re in so much pain. This, on the other hand¡­¡±

    He unravelled his pointing finger, letting the thread dangle at the foot of the bed.

    "Do you understand?"

    I nodded.

    Incredible¡­

    "Um... How can we protect ourselves from being changed?" Isla asked.

    "Renamed. Use the right word."

    "Sorry¡­"

    "You''re forgiven. In most cases, it''s rare for the First Magic to be used on people."

    "Why not?" Castille asked.

    "Like all things, it comes down to will. When you attempt to rename a person, you pit your will against theirs. To rename them, you must overpower them. Even with the person''s consent, it''s difficult. Worst of all, if you succeed, you consume a large portion of your will and leave yourself vulnerable.¡±

    "So that¡¯s why you didn¡¯t want to fix me.¡±

    "Correct. I need to conserve my will. I fear this Nostrand Del is an Enchanter like me. A practitioner of the First Magic with extraordinary will."

    "So, there''s nothing we can do?"

    Isla¡¯s grip on her staff tightened.

    ¡°He must have weaknesses,¡± Castille said.

    Shay frowned.

    "His weaknesses are my weaknesses."

    "Then you should know them.¡±

    ¡°Please¡­ Can you tell us one of them?¡± Isla asked.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Shay sighed, turning to Reed. The Inquisitor shrugged, an amused smile on her face.

    "Very well¡­ The main limitation of the First Magic is the inability of practitioners to use it on themselves. This skews the First Magic to overwhelming offence. The person who strikes first and strikes well usually wins.  Because of this, your best chance of survival is to catch him by surprise and overwhelm him¡ªget him to react instead of act."

    Sound advice. Sin couldn¡¯t have said it any better.

    Isla spoke up.

    ¡°Um¡­ If you can¡¯t rename yourself, how did you become a revenant?¡±

    I jumped in. I knew this part of the story.

    ¡°Through a contract. The Sanctifier contracts let us rename ourselves.¡±

    Isla¡¯s eyes widened to saucers, the realization shaking the foundations of her world.

    ¡°That¡¯s why we pass out when we become Landbound... We burn through most of our will.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a clever loophole, isn¡¯t it?¡± Reed asked. She grinned, enjoying the look of awe on the mage¡¯s face. ¡°The enchantment to become Landbound is minor, yet few people have the will to go further. Shay is one of those few.¡±

    For a moment, Reed¡¯s mask slipped. Childlike admiration and respect beamed on her face like she was talking about a hero of legend. Come to think of it, Shay was older than most legends. At least the kinds we wrote down.

    I sagged against the headrest. It was a lot of information. A throbbing headache joined the dull ache of my muscles. I invited the pain. It was a relief compared to living as a statue. Thank goodness for Shay. We were lucky to have him.

    I cocked my head.

    Maybe, too lucky.

    What were the chances that two Enchanters would be in one place? Two Enchanters that also happen to be revenants. Even Gren wouldn¡¯t take those odds.

    I glanced at Reed, remembering what she said at the Lagos brothers'' party.

    Shay was right where she wanted him...

    The realization hit me like a punch in the chest. I rocked my head back, almost slamming it against the headboard.

    ¡°You knew¡­¡±

    Confused faces turned to look at me.

    ¡°Knew what?¡± Isla asked.

    I pointed at Reed.

    "She knew¡­ She knew about Nostrand Del! That¡¯s why Shay is in Steeltown!"

    Reed slipped on her neutral mask. She folded her arms, a mirror to Castille on her right.

    "We¡­ suspected."

    "You suspected?!"

    "The Sanctifiers have monitored the situation for decades. Shay is a more recent addition."

    I blinked. It was like a fog being lifted from my eyes.

    "You had an outpost in Southsun to monitor the spread of the curse. When the village rioted, your people fled. That''s when you brought in Shay. Of course! He¡¯s the perfect countermeasure. A revenant would be immune to the curse, and an Enchanter working undercover would be in the perfect position to take out Nostrand Del."

    Castille scoffed.

    "But they made one mistake¡­ They should have brought an army."

    Shay glanced from me and Castille to Reed with one raised eyebrow.

    "They¡¯re clever¡ªmore clever than we anticipated."

    ¡°Yes, but for now, it¡¯s an asset.¡±

    "Reed, if you want our help, we need to know everything."

    She glanced at Shay, who shrugged back at her.

    "I told them my secrets; you should tell them yours."

    Reed closed her eyes for a long moment, running her arcane accounting of risk and reward.

    She opened her eyes and flashed us a brittle smile.

    "If this information leaves the room, you all die."

    Isla''s face paled while Dugan sat up in his chair. Castille smirked.

    My left hand moved to the short sword on the bed.

    "Don''t push yourself, Jacob," Castille said, glancing from me to the weapon.

    I nodded, grabbing my left hand with my right.

    Reed''s eyes glanced at my hands.

    "Are you finished?"

    "For now¡­"

    "Good. We killed Nostrand Del."

    "What?!"

    Reed weathered our shock and surprise with practiced poise.

    "To be specific, the Sanctifier¡¯s Guild made a black contract with Nostrand Del¡¯s seven sons. They eliminated him on our request."

    Dugan jumped out of his chair. His eyes were wild, fists clenched into balls.

    ¡°Castille, keep your man under control. I know his history with black contracts, but I will not tolerate violence in this room.¡±

    Castille stretched her arm over the bed.

    "Dugan. Dugan! Calm down..."

    He looked down at the floor. His mouth twitched with involuntary tremors.

    Black contracts were the Sanctifier''s worst-kept secret. They enforced deals so shady that they were kept off the Guild''s records.

    Dugan sat back in his chair. He hunched over, his hands clasped together so hard his fingertips turned white.

    Reed looked down at the man, something close to sympathy in her eyes.

    Dugan, who are you?

    She continued.

    "As I was saying, we made a deal with Nostrand Del''s seven sons. Whoever killed their father would receive a Landbound contract and our support in taking over the Kingdom of Del."

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t they already have Landbound magic?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Not quite,¡± Shay said. ¡°Contracts are either exclusive to the signer or inclusive of their living blood relatives. In the era of petty kingdoms, Landbound contracts were often exclusive. Such were the times.¡±

    "Why did the Sanctifiers want to get rid of Nostrand Del?" Castille asked.

    Reed glanced at Castille.

    "He was meddling with dangerous enchantments despite our repeated warnings.¡±

    "In other words, he challenged the Sanctifiers¡¯ monopoly on the First Magic, so they bribed his sons to kill him," I said.

    Reed scoffed.

    "Kill your monster of a father and become a king? It was a fair deal. Elves were slaves in Del, and his half-elven sons were treated no differently than their mothers. Not that it matters now. He was prepared to die."

    "You¡¯re wrong, Reed, it does matter. The Sanctifiers gave him his goal. To get revenge on his son''s descendants and retake his kingdom."

    Shay smiled.

    "Why stop there? I would take over all of Luskaine and then the rest of the Abyssal Lands. Such a powerful goal would give me the conviction to live for hundreds of years."

    ¡°That could have always been his plan,¡± Reed said.

    Isla shook her head.

    "It should never have gotten this far.¡±

    "The past is the past. The future is ours. Get some rest. I expect you at today''s meeting.¡±

    "Why? What''s going to happen?" I asked.

    "We begin the counterattack. And your party will lead the charge."

 The Cursed Lands Part 47

    We traded shocked expressions¡ªat least most of us. Dugan was off in his own world, and Thor was still sleeping.

    Reed opened the right side of her jacket.

    "Shay, let''s go."

    The Enchanter sighed.

    "Must I travel in such a crude fashion?"

    "Stop complaining, Shay. Half of my men would pay to be in your position."

    With a pout, Shay folded into himself, wrapping around Reed''s torso in a flutter of lavender cloth.

    Was this how my relationship with Sin should be? Friendliness instead of fear. Trading barbs instead of blows.

    No!

    Sin was cruel, but she made me strong.

    My left hand reached for the short sword on the bed. It wrapped around the black lacquer handle.

    She made me...

    Reed opened the bedroom door, exchanging quiet words with her guards as they disappeared down the hall.

    "Well... That was a lot," Castille said.

    And that was an understatement. Will wells, the First Magic, the truth of Nostrand Del and the Sanctifiers'' role in creating him. What would I give to go back to the mansion? To wash wooden bowls and plates with Gren, read Mr. Reeves'' books, or play games with Cynthia and Cindra when Mrs. Dulldrey wasn¡¯t looking.

    I sighed.

    The past is the past.

    I scanned the room and the faces of my new companions. Dugan was still hunched over in his chair with Castille rubbing a comforting hand on his back. Isla held her staff close to her chest, staring off into space, and Thor was still sleeping.

    Reed had decided to put the fate of the Dellends in our hands.

    We were doomed.

    # # #

    We spent the rest of the morning sleeping, rolling out the bed rolls on the floor of Castille''s master suite. By the time we walked down to the first floor of the Pit, the dining room tables were pushed to the side by the Sanctifier Guild¡¯s servants. Chairs were laid out in crooked rows in front of a platform the black-clad servants were assembling.

    Cassandra stood behind the bar with a sour look on her face.

    "Castille, what''s going on? That Inquisitor isn''t telling me anything," she whispered.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    I barely heard her over the sound of hammers banging against wood.

    Castille scratched the top of her head, ruffling her already tousled hair.

    "Cass... Where to begin."

    I sat down on a nearby stool.

    "Reed is gathering the cartel leaders and bosses of Steeltown. We found something under the mountains. Something bad."

    Her eyes widened, leaning over the counter.

    "So the rumours are true! The whole town has been talking. Between the food storage and mines shutting down, people are furious. The Sanctifiers are barely keeping things under control."

    Great. The last we needed was another riot like Southsun.

    Cassandra looked away, examining the wood grain of the countertop.

    "Maybe... Maybe it would be better if you stayed in your room."

    "Why?" Isla asked, sitting on a stool next to me.

    The Madame''s face flushed. Impressive, considering her line of work.

    "Ever since you came into town, it¡¯s one thing after another. Van Lagos was poisoned, our food supply was burned, and now the mines are shutting down. People are blaming you, Jacob.¡±

    Her eyes met mine. Anger simmered beneath her pleasant, perfumed visage.

    ¡°You¡¯re bad luck."

    The words stung.

    Maybe she was right.

    Castille shrugged.

    "When things get hairy, people look for a goat. Isn''t that right, Dugan?"

    Dugan had turned away from us to watch the door. Ever since his outburst, his mind... was somewhere else.

    I exhaled, letting the tension out of my shoulders.

    "It would help if I wasn''t in the middle of every accident in this town."

    ¡°I think the worst of it is over,¡± Isla said.

    I slapped my forehead.

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°You jinxed it!¡±

    Slow, heavy footfalls stamped up the stairs of the Pit. We turned to the entrance as the doors swung open, and a tall man ducked his head under the frame.

    Tiny Tom lifted the fringe of brown hair in front of his face to scan the room. He glowered when he caught sight of me.

    I groaned. This was the last thing I needed.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Isla whispered.

    He stomped to the bar. Behind him, Arwen¡¯s head poked in the entrance. He gaped and darted after the hulking man.

    "Tommy! Tommy, wait a minute!"

    Tiny Tom Harwick stopped against the wall that was Dugan. He didn¡¯t acknowledge the shorter man. Instead, his eyes were fixed on me.

    "Is this him, Arwen?"

    "Yes, but wait, he''s-."

    "Well, I''ll be! I peeped you at the party, but now that I¡¯m looking close, I can really see it. You¡¯re an elf. A reeeeeal elf."

    ¡°Half. Elf,¡± I said.

    He bared his teeth.

    "What do you want, lad?" Castille asked.

    "I ain''t no lad. I''m a cartel leader, and my people are out for blood."

    He rolled up the sleeves of his grey work shirt, thumbing his right hand over his shoulder.

    "Git outside, and let''s settle this. Me and you with none of your elf tricks."

    Arwen sighed.

    The swelling around his eye had gone down, leaving a purple ring of blackened blood beneath his sunburnt skin.

    I pointed to the cartel¡¯s actual leader.

    ¡°Is this about him?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re damn right. You think you¡¯re tough? Beating on an old man. Time to pick on summin your own size.¡±

    I looked around.

    ¡°Where are they?¡±

    ¡°You know what I mean!¡±

    I sighed.

    And Dugan had just finished healing me.

    "Can I eat first?"

    Tiny Tom furrowed his brows, taken aback by my question.

    "Uh... Fine! I''ll be waiting outside. Don''t try n'' run!"

    I blinked at Tom¡¯s back as he stormed out of the Pit.

    "Are you really doing fight him? He''s huge," Isla said.

    "I don''t think he has a choice," Castille said, one hand on her longsword.

    Arwen walked up to the bar, shaking his head.

    "I''m sorry. When he saw my face, there was no cooling him off."

    I punched him, and he was apologizing to me.

    Disgusting.

    "Doesn''t he know we''re working together?"

    "He does¡­ He doesn¡¯t care. He''s my sister''s boy. I cared for him when she passed. Now he got it in his thick head that I need his protection.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s sweet of him,¡± Isla said.

    I groaned.

    "He''s been like this all morning, getting the mining crews all riled up. They''re excitable, especially with the mines closed. There could be trouble if you don''t go out there soon."

    Cassandra''s eyes flashed with worry.

    "Jacob..." Castille said.

    "I know."

    I made this bed, and now I had to lie in it.

 The Cursed Lands Part 48

    I walked to the entrance of the Pit and was met with the faces of Steeltown¡ªhard men and women who endured the worst the Dellends had thrown at them. They crowded the street, blocking both sides. The crowd parted into a rough circle, where a bull paced its edges. Tom had stripped to his waist, revealing a lean, well-muscled physique.

    The rest of my party followed on my heels, with Arwen trailing behind.

    "You''re popular,¡± Castille said.

    The collection of frowns and scowls in the crowd said otherwise.

    I pulled off my jacket and unbuttoned my shirt. If they wanted a show, that¡¯s what they would get.

    "Isla, can you hold this?"

    "O-Ok."

    I handed her clothes. She grabbed them, juggling her staff in the crook of her elbow. After a moment of hesitation, I unbuckled my sword belt and added it to the pile.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hurt each other too bad,¡± Arwen said.

    ¡°No promises.¡±

    I walked down the steps into the jeering crowd.

    A woman with locks of straw-like hair and a missing front tooth spit in my face.

    "Get out of Steeltown!"

    The crowd erupted around me.

    "Yeah! Get out! Get out, elf! Get out!¡±

    I smiled through clenched teeth, wiping the glob of spit off my cheek with the palm of my hand.

    After everything I''d done for these people.

    Well¡­ Everything I''d tried to do it.

    It didn''t matter.

    Once Nostrand Del died, I could leave this spirit-cursed land for good.

    I took a deep breath. My chest was tight along with everything else¡ªa side effect of the renaming.

    Ignore it. Ignore everything.

    I let my mind sink into that place that was so far away.

    The crowd disappeared. Their taunts became distant. I was no longer in the Dellends.

    Yes, his was just another sparring session in the Red Room, and, for the first time, Sin was not my opponent.

    I laughed, letting the raw giggle escape my throat.

    "What¡¯re laughing about?" Tom asked.

    He walked to the centre of the ring to tower over me.

    I tilted my head up, smiling at the imposing man.

    "I''m happy."

    Tom frowned.

    "Why?"

    "I''m in a fight I can win.¡±

    Tom returned my smile.

    "You''re a funny fella.¡±

    "Thanks. I try.¡±

    He raised his fists, each one almost as big as my head.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Oh, are we starting?

    I sunk into my stance, knees bent, arms loose and close to my torso. Shouts from the crowd were muted further by my pounding heart. My eyes unfocused to see everything and nothing.

    It was just a sparring session.

    Just another-

    WHOOSH!

    I bobbed to the right. The wind of Tom''s fist blew past my head. I ducked as that fist stopped and swung left.

    An opening.

    I darted in, punching his solar plexus with a straight left.

    THWACK!

    What was he made of?! Stone?!

    My hand bounced off the dense muscles of his stomach.

    Two thick hands grabbed the back of my neck. I threw my arms down, blocking his knee before it slammed into my stomach. I wrapped my arms around his raised thigh, stepping in and sweeping out his other leg.

    We toppled to the ground.

    I slipped past his legs, scrambling on all fours to get a dominant position over my fallen opponent.

    The chest. Control his chest!

    Tom''s stiff arm kept me away. A punch with his other hand landed a glancing blow that turned my vision white.

    He got to his feet as I blinked away stars.

    "Nice trick! Where''d you learn it?"

    "My mother."

    "She must be sum woman."

    I spit out a glob of blood.

    "She hits harder than you."

    Tom pulled back his foot to kick me in my ribs.

    I rolled away as he followed through, spinning into a crouch on all fours.

    My eyes widened as the bottom of his foot flew to my face.

    I fell into a kneeling bow and winced as his heel scrapped skin off my back. I sprang up, trapping his ankle between my head and shoulder.

    Tom hopped on one foot for a few awkward moments and then jumped forward.

    His second foot slammed into my chest, sending me stumbling into the angry crowd.

    The miners caught me and pushed me forward into Tom as he got back to his feet.

    Too slow!

    He was still crouched when my knee cracked into his chin.

    His head snapped to the side as I slid past him.

    A large hand wrapped around my ankle and yanked me to the ground.

    This was the worst place to be.

    I kicked at his fingers.

    Once. Twice. A third time!

    The grip loosened, and I scampered to my feet.

    Tom stood up a moment later, wiping his bloody mouth on the back of his hand, one finger bent the wrong way.

    He flashed me a pink smile.

    "Not bad!"

    I frowned.

    Not bad?!

    I was better than him. More skilled. More technical. But unlike Sin, he didn''t mind getting hurt. This wasn''t a battle of skill; this was a war of attrition¡ªthe kind of fight I had not trained for.

    What would Sin do?

    She wouldn''t be here, fighting a larger enemy head-on. She would have sneaked out of the Pit¡¯s back door and visited Tom later that night.

    A weapon. I''m a weapon.

    The more time I spent with Isla, Castille and Dugan, the harder it was to convince myself of this truth.

    The more I didn''t want it to be true.

    I sighed.

    I¡¯m weak, and look where it brought me, rolling around in the dirt in front of a crowd of people who hated me.

    I focused on that crowd for the first time since the fight began. Their weathered faces huddled around us, peeking over and in between the first ring of onlookers.

    In their wide eyes, I saw... hope.

    This fight was more than a passing moment of entertainment. It was a release of all their fears and frustrations. It was a play where they became Tiny Tom Harwick, lashing at everything wrong with the world, symbolized by me.

    These people were on the brink of rioting, destroying the town they sacrificed their lives to create.

    I could let Tom win.

    I could relieve the tension that had been building for days.

    I could be selfless.

    Like Castille...

    Like Arwen¡­¡­..

    Fuck that!

    I darted forward with blinding speed, catching Tom off guard. I jabbed at his face. The large man covered it with his forearms. I pulled back my feint and, with my trailing leg, swung my foot into his groin.

    THWACK!

    Tom screamed as I kicked his testicles into his stomach. I switched stances and sent a low kick to buckle the knee of his lead leg.

    He faltered, lowering himself to my height. I grabbed the tufts of his long, brown hair and smashed my knee into his nose. He fell on his back in a cloud of dust.

    Thank you, Sin¡­

    I pinned him down with my knee on his chest, raining down fist after fist on his face.

    You made me¡­

    THWACK!

    Utility¡­

    THWACK!

    Misdirection¡­

    THWACK!

    Ruthlessness¡­

    I held my bloodied fist high. My face split into a feral grin. My eyes soaked in the horrified faces of the crowd.

    That''s right. This isn¡¯t your story¡­ It¡¯s mine.

    Arwen was watching me from the crowd, and, in that brief moment, our eyes locked.

    Ruthlessness¡­ Why was it always a struggle? What¡¯s holding me back? What¡¯s stopping me from being who I was meant to be?

    Sin¡­

    Why do you feel out of reach?

    Why did you leave me alone?

    I needed someone. I needed you!

    No¡­

    I stifled it. That feeling? That emotion?

    Whatever it was, I pushed it down into the depths of myself¡ªinto the parts of me it was best to ignore.

    I sighed, standing up to stare down at the bloody pulp of Tom¡¯s face.

    The crowd was deathly quiet. Between their stunned, slack-jawed faces, Arwen breathed a sigh of relief.

    I turned to the crowd and shrugged.

    "I guess¡­ I guess I won!"

    "GET HIM!"

    The circle of bodies around us collapsed. The miners rushed toward me, onlookers becoming combatants.

    Out of the corner of my eye, Castille and Dugan ran forward to pull me out of the crowd.

    They were too far and too late. So be it.

    I fell into my stance.

    Bring it on...

    Who wants to die first?

 The Cursed Lands Part 49

    The first miner ran headfirst into a transparent golden wall. It enveloped me in a sphere, and¡­ and I was back in the mansion¡¯s kitchen.

    Huh?

    I ran my hands along the rough wooden surface of the kitchen table. The smell of Gren''s stew was heavy in the air. The comforting warmth of the fireplace caressed my skin.

    I missed this¡­

    Wait¡­ How is this happening?!

    The next few miners skid to a stop, clinking against the sphere like birds bumping into a glass window.

    Gasps rippled through the crowd. They stumbled back, stunned at the magical display.

    "A mage¡­ He''s a mage! A mage!"

    "He isn¡¯t a mage. I am."

    The tall, black doors of the Sanctifier Guildhall were open.

    Reed stood in front of the grey building with her spiked club slung over one shoulder.

    Her face was a mask of irritation¡ªthe corners of her ruby lips twitching into a scowl.

    That mild disapproval was enough to make the miners cower¡ªthe magic helped, too.

    "Today, we decide the future of Steeltown."

    She lifted the club off her shoulder, pointing the length of blackened iron in the direction of the Pit and my party''s shocked faces.

    "Mining crew leaders and above into the Pit. The rest of you leave. Now!"

    The crowd dispersed with a few muted grumbles of complaint, leaving me standing beside the fallen Tiny Tom Harwick.

    My party walked past the people filing into the Pit. Arwen and two of his guards lingered off to the side.

    Reed loped towards me. I spit out a glob of pink fluid, checking my mouth for any loose teeth.

    "Thanks, Reed, I-"

    SLAP!

    The world spinned. The Inquisitor''s open-handed strike whipped my head to the left.

    "I told you to rest. Instead, I find you in the middle of a fight with another cartel leader! Do you take me so lightly?!"

    A band of golden light wrapped around my arms and stomach.

    "Is force the only thing you understand?!"

    The band tightened. It was a vice, pushing my elbows into my sides, crushing my organs and stealing my breath.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°I get it¡­ I-I get it!¡± I said in a wet wheeze. The semi-solid band was crushing my diaphragm and, with it, my ability to speak.

    "Do you?!"

    She leaned closer, slamming the head of her club into the dirt.

    "You asked me about my stick. Maybe it''s time I used it."

    Castille walked ahead of the party.

    "That¡¯s enough, Inquisitor."

    Reed¡¯s eyes flicked to the taller woman.

    ¡°It¡¯s enough when I say it¡¯s enough.¡±

    "Please just let him go," Isla said.

    Dugan¡¯s hand reached for the axe head looped into his belt.

    Reed narrowed her eyes.

    "Loyalty? Good. You''ll need it."

    The golden band dissolved into glittering particles that winked out before touching the ground.

    I took a deep, shuddering breath.

    "Lick your wounds and get inside. You have an important part in this play."

    Reed brushed past Castille to walk to the doors of the Pit.

    "A bowl of sunshine, that one," Castille said, watching the Inquisitor leave.

    She rubbed her chin with one scarred hand.

    "Although... she''s growing on me!"

    "Jacob, are you alright?" Isla asked.

    "I''ll live."

    "We¡¯ll need to get that dust off you. It''s toxic."

    I nodded.

    "I should have time to clean up."

    I gestured to Tom.

    "The meeting can''t start without him. Right, Arwen?"

    Arwen walked up with his two guards.

    "That¡¯s right. Philip. Frank, get him up. We''ll ask Cassandra to use the Pit''s services."

    The two men exchanged looks.

    "Not those services. Now git!"

    The two men hoisted Tom over their shoulders and dragged him to the Pit. We fell into step behind them with Arwen by my side.

    "Arwen... I''m sorry for beating up your nephew."

    He chuckled.

    "Why? He deserved it. Besides, there aren¡¯t any lasting injuries."

    Tom''s head lolled to one side.

    "Are you sure?"

    Arwen gave me a dismissive wave.

    "He''ll be fine. Trust me."

    I gave him a slow nod.

    "Most people around here hate me. You don¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°And wanna know why? Is that it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I do.¡±

    Arwen smiled.

    "Before the curse reached Southsun, we used to have a wanderer stop by the village every few years¡ªa real scholarly type. He would stay at the headman''s house and trade stories from the road in return for room and board. As a boy, I loved his stories¡ªall the far-off lands, interesting people and customs. One place I found more interesting than the others. Can you guess which?"

    I smirked.

    "The Forest Enclave of Elves."

    He grinned and nodded.

    "I couldn''t believe it. A society without nobles or peasants, where everyone was as equal as the day they were born. They even choose their own leaders!"

    He laughed, shaking his head.

    "I thought it was a daydream, the kind ya get when you work the fields for too long, but we''re doing it here¡­ slowly. That daycare you saw is only the beginning."

    His enthusiasm was contagious. A society without nobles. If the Forest Enclave elves could do it, why not the people here?

    I smiled.

    "Just don''t let the Vangraves hear you."

    ¡°Then let¡¯s keep it a secret.¡±

    He winked.

    ¡°I-¡±

    I stopped mid-sentence. A sound, like thunder, rumbled down the street. It was the sound of horses¡ªa lot of them.

    They were moving at a full gallop, kicking up a cloud of dust that obscured them from view.

    The lead horses pulled up and slowed to a trot, and as the dust settled, the riders were revealed.

    Van Lagos rode at the head of a group with Finnick and Lira on either side.

    His face soured when he saw me beside an upbeat Arwen.

    "See! I warned you, brother! Look at the elf''s treachery," Finnick said.

    Van Lagos narrowed his eyes, trotting closer to our group.

    ¡°I thought I was late, but I was just in time.¡±

    He sighed.

    "I didn¡¯t want my brother to be right."

    ¡°He isn¡¯t. Van, I can explain-¡±

    "Explain what?! The truth is revealed to my eyes and ears. You lied to me, Jacob. Once, I can understand, but twice!"

    He leaned over and spit on the ground, pointing at the moist patch of earth.

    ¡°You made your bed and forsaken my friendship. Be glad you don¡¯t face my fury. That¡¯s what the embers of my good will buy you. Now, I have a meeting.¡±

    He tugged on the reins, turning his horse to face the twenty riders behind him.

    As his spit evaporated on the ground, so did my hopes of learning the secret of fire that didn''t burn¡ªArwen better be worth it.

 The Cursed Lands Part 50

    I went to the room I shared with Isla, wiping myself down with a damp rag and getting dressed. Below me, the soft hum of muffled voices had died down. The meeting had started, and I was late.

    I stalked down the stairs, leaning over the railing to get a better view of the main floor.

    Everyone was here. Reed sat in the middle of a rectangular table on the raised platform her servants built. On her left was Kateen and the Lagos brothers. On her right was Arwen and a swollen-faced Tom. Mining crew leaders and other important cartel members sat in the rows of chairs in front. I spotted Lira¡¯s braided ponytail in the front row and a man in a long brown coat who looked like one of Kateen¡¯s men. Reed''s guards lined the walls and stood near the entrances. Their enchanted black uniforms made them easy to miss.

    I joined Isla and the others at the bar, keeping our distance. So many personalities in one room was dangerous.

    "Do you take us for fools?" Kateen asked.

    Van Lagos let out a clipped laugh through the sneer that plastered his face.

    "You shut down the mines because of rock monsters. That¡¯s difficult to believe, Special Inquisitor."

    Finnick crossed his arms.

    "You''ve overstepped. The power to shut down the mines was never in the Compact."

    Reed tapped the head of her metal club on the platform.

    THUD! THUD! THUD!

    The left side of the table quieted down. Reed stared from Kateen to the Lagos brothers with eyes that revealed nothing.

    "You''re right, Finnick. I did overstep.¡±

    She snapped her fingers with her free hand.

    One of her guards appeared from a shadowy corner, walked up the platform and rested a stack of papers in front of Reed.

    She picked up the first page, presenting it to the seated crowd.

    "This is the Steeltown Compact¡­ It''s not worth the paper it¡¯s written on."

    Low grumbles rose from the onlookers. Tom looked more confused than usual through his swollen face. The rest of the Compact members looked wary.

    What was she planning?

    "Lady Kateen, your control over all trade into and out of the Dellends is ridiculous."

    Kateen''s mouth dropped as the Lagos brothers smirked at each other.

    "And let''s not forget the Lagos Brothers. You two have grown too comfortable here. Rumours are being spread in the capital about Dahlgeshi openly walking our streets. The royal court only tolerated you when you stayed in hiding. If you continue this behaviour, soldiers will be sent. The Southern Lords are already lining up to volunteer. Who knows? You may get a visit from the Brass Hand herself.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°I walk where I wish, Special Inquisitor,¡± Van Lagos said.

    ¡°Yes, but for how long?¡±

    Finnick pointed across the table to Arwen and Tom.

    ¡°What about them?¡±

    ¡°What about them? They meet their quotas despite their tendency to make trouble.¡±

    ¡°Trouble? They tried to kill my brother!¡±

    ¡°What?! What kind of hogwash is that?¡± Tom asked.

    ¡°The true kind, you overgrown farmer!¡±

    ¡°Careful, Finnick. I¡¯ll beat your face in.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll have matching black eyes, and I¡¯ll still be prettier.¡±

    ¡°Stop it¡ªall of you. This is a meeting,¡± Arwen said.

    ¡°Meeting? This is madness. Only a fool would sit across from his poisoner.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t poison anyone!¡±

    Reed leaned her club against the table, taking her right hand to grab the other side of the raised sheet of paper and tear it in two.

    RIP!

    Gasps erupted from the crowd. Shocked faces turned to the Inquisitor and the torn halves of the Compact¡¯s first page hanging loose in each hand.

    "I have your attention. Good. The Compact no longer works for us."

    I raised my eyebrows.

    That was bold... or suicidal.

    Once the shock wore off, anger bloomed in the faces of the Compact members.

    "Y-You can''t do that!" Tom said.

    Arwen touched his nephew''s wrist, shaking his head, his voice grave.

    "She can..."

    "Thank you, Arwen. You''re right. The Sanctifiers reserve the right to renegotiate the Compact during times of emergency. It''s what allowed us to adjust the Compact after the Lagos brothers disposed of the last cartel leaders."

    Van Lagos smiled¡ªall teeth and menace.

    "The problem, Special Inquisitor, is we don''t see your emergency. You can manufacture whatever story you want¡ªwhenever you want and cut us out of the Compact. Does that sound fair to you?"

    Reed smirked.

    "The Sanctifiers are beacons of fairness."

    "Hah!" Kateen said before covering her mouth as Reed glanced at her.

    "My apologies, Special Inquisitor."

    Reed smiled.

    "I understand your concerns, Van Lagos. Which is why I brought witnesses."

    Oh no...

    Reed pointed to our party at the bar.

    "Would you accept the eyewitness account of the man who saved your life?"

    The Compact and cartel members turned to look at us.

    Van Lagos clenched his jaw in a forced smile.

    Well played, Reed. So this is why you wanted us at the meeting.

    "Dugan, is my claim about Nostrand Del and his stone men true?"

    From my view of his back, Dugan squirmed from the sudden attention.

    "Yes, i-i-it''s true," Dugan said.

    ¡°Is it an emergency?¡±

    He nodded his head.

    Finnick scowled.

    "What were you doing at the mines?!"

    "I-I... Um... W-We..."

    I stepped forward.

    "We-"

    "They''ve been working tirelessly to end the curse that has plagued the Dellends for over a century," Reed said.

    Eyebrows raised. Faces twisted in shock. Jaws dropped on the floor.

    Reed, what are you doing?!

    She¡¯d blown our cover!

 The Cursed Lands Part 51

    Van Lagos stared at me¡ªtwo cat-eyed rubies, glassy and hard.

    I betrayed him¡­ again.

    Why did it make my chest tight? My stomach sink?

    He was my enemy. He was always my enemy. Yet, his look of disappointment picked at an old wound.

    Kateen and Finnick scowled in unison at our direction. Murmurs broke out among the cartel members sitting at the front of the platform.

    THUD! THUD! THUD!

    Reed banged her club on the platform hard enough to shake the table, drawing their attention.

    "I understand your concerns, but I have it on good authority that the curse can be ended while keeping the ore deposits intact. Once Nostrand Del is eliminated, it will be business as usual."

    "What about my business?!" Kateen asked.

    It was true. With the curse lifted, the environment could be returned to its natural state, removing the need to import food and water.

    "An enterprising woman like yourself can adapt. I hear there will be some noble titles available soon."

    Kateen pressed her finger against her lips, considering the possibilities.

    Castille leaned into me and whispered.

    "She''s good."

    I nodded.

    By now, I knew Reed¡¯s style. She unbalanced her opponents with their fears and desires and then sold them solutions that ultimately benefited the Sanctifier Guild. In a matter of minutes, this collection of hardened criminals and labourers would be eating out of her hand.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Now, if there are no more complaints, I will discuss the terms of the new Steeltown Compact."

    Everyone''s ears perked up.

    "I¡¯m creating a task force to put down Nostrand Del for good. Each Compact member will assemble their best fighters, including themselves, in the case of the Lagos brothers and Tom Harwick."

    The large man smiled through split lips.

    "Your level of participation will determine how favourable your terms will be in the new Compact. I ask each of you to organize and bring your forces to the Pit. We will meet here tomorrow morning to lay out my plan of attack."

    "So soon?" Arwen asked.

    "Nostrand Del has been building his strength for over one hundred years. Our best chance is to attack him quickly before he can execute whatever he¡¯s been planning."

    She wasn¡¯t just good. She was great.

    Tying participation in the task force to the new Compact was genius. It guaranteed that each Compact member would provide a large force and motivated them to fight harder. It also added two more mages to the offensive. We just might have a chance.

    "Any more questions?" Reed asked.

    Van Lagos drummed the table with his fingertips, staring down at his hands. He lifted his head to meet the Inquisitor''s reddish-brown eyes.

    "I have a counteroffer, Special Inquisitor. You and your minions can fight this Nostrand Del and his stone army. We will focus on securing our properties."

    Sharp gasps broke out from the seated audience. Reed narrowed her eyes.

    ¡°Is that wise, Van Lagos? Two more Landbound mages could turn the tide. You are powerful weapons.¡±

    Van Lagos slammed his palms on the table, making Arwen almost jump out of his seat.

    "The Lagos brothers are not weapons!"

    Reed didn¡¯t budge. She dissected the Dahlgeshi cartel leader with dispassionate eyes.

    "Then what are you?"

    Van Lagos grinned ear to ear.

    "We¡¯re free..."

    He jolted to his feet, knocking his chair over on the makeshift platform. Reed raised a hand to hold off her guards.

    "I believe that concludes our business," Van Lagos said.

    "Are you sure? You¡¯ll be cut out of the new Compact if you don''t participate.¡±

    She glanced at the shorter Dahlgeshi brother.

    ¡°Does that sound good, Finnick?"

    She looked down at the seated audience.

    "How about you, Lira?"

    "I lead the cartel, Special Inquisitor, and I made my decision.¡±

    Van Lagos walked off the platform with his brother tugging on his sleeve. The other Lagos cartel members jumped out of their chairs, surrounding Van Lagos like gnats he brushed away.

    He was making a beeline straight for me.

    Great¡­

    The last thing I needed was more trouble.

 The Cursed Lands Part 52

    "My mind¡¯s made up," Van Lagos said.

    Finnick and Lira were on his heels, begging him to reconsider.

    He stopped in front of me, his mouth opening and closing. He was grasping for words but could only find air. After a moment of tense silence, he spoke.

    ¡°You¡¯re incredible. Do you know that?¡±

    I clenched my jaw. What should I say? Thank you?!

    ¡°Now you have trouble speaking. What¡¯s wrong, Jacob? Cat got your tongue?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to-¡±

    ¡°No! No, you did mean to...¡±

    He narrowed his eyes, seeing something in the expression on my face.

    ¡°You¡¯re a liar. You lie to everyone¡­ but most of all, you lie to yourself.¡±

    He shivered.

    ¡°I must leave before I catch your sickness.¡±

    He cut a line to the exit, ignoring everyone and everything except for the front doors. He stopped mid-step in front of Dugan, turning to look down at the shorter man.

    "Dugan Samaran, your protection is rescinded. Your life and your dignity are, once again, yours to protect."

    Dugan¡¯s shoulders slumped. He gave Van Lagos a curt nod as the Dahlgeshi turned and continued his march.

    Finnick glowered at us before catching up with his brother. The other cartel members followed, fear and confusion masking their faces in a delicate balance. Only Lira stayed in the Pit. She looked resigned, her long braid whipping back and forth with each disbelieving shake of her head.

    With the Lagos cartel gone, the meeting was over. The former Compact members left the platform. The audience disbursed, scurrying out the doors or stopping by the bar to drink away their thinly veiled fears.

    We moved to the stairs for privacy. It didn¡¯t last. Reed approached us with Lira trailing behind her. She spoke to the Inquisitor in frantic whispers, dodging the spiked club swaying on Reed¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Then you¡¯ll have to do better,¡± Reed said.

    She waved away Lira as she got into our earshot. Lira recoiled at the dismissing hand, turning to stare at us like a startled deer before dashing away.

    What was that about?

    "Jacob¡­¡±

    I glanced from Lira¡¯s back to the Inquisitor. Reed was at ease, one hand over the other, weighing down the handle of the club balanced on her shoulder.

    ¡°I''ll need you at full strength tomorrow¡ªall of you."

    She turned to Castille.

    "Make sure he stays out of more fights until then."

    The gruff woman crossed her arms.

    "I''m not his mother."

    ¡°No, you¡¯re more of a sister, aren¡¯t you? How is your younger brother?¡±

    Castille¡¯s face turned an angry shade of red. I jumped in before the Northerner did something she would regret.

    "Do you know what would keep me out of fights, Reed? If you didn¡¯t blow our cover."

    "The time for hiding is over, Jacob."

    She glanced at Isla.

    "In the end, everything comes to light. It¡¯s best to control when and how."

    ¡°You took that control away from us!¡±

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    She cocked her head.

    ¡°Of course I did. Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡±

    I opened and closed my mouth. Arguing with Sanctifiers was pointless.

    "Um¡­ About tomorrow¡­ Can tell us your plan of attack? Maybe we can help?" Isla asked.

    "Especially when we''re down two mages," Castille said, a bitter edge slipping into her voice.

    "And have my plans leaked?"

    Reed smiled.

    "No. You''ll have to wait like the others."

    ¡°Everything comes to light.¡±

    She grinned.

    ¡°Good, you¡¯re learning. I''ll leave you to your preparations. Rest well.¡±

    Reed turned on her heels, angling the length of iron on her shoulder up to avoid clubbing us in the head. She took two steps to the door and stopped, looking over her left shoulder.

    ¡°Castille...¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s alive.¡±

    The colour drained from the Northern woman¡¯s face. She was speechless as we watched Reed and her guards file out of the Pit.

    ¡°That woman¡­¡±

    I knew what she meant.

    "Isla?"

    "Yeah?"

    "What type of Landbound ability does Reed have?"

    "Oh, that! I¡¯m pretty sure it''s Hearth Magic. It¡¯s mainly defensive, but the Special Inquisitor has found more creative ways to use it."

    ¡°What type of land creates Hearth Magic?¡±

    ¡°A loving home.¡±

    A loving home?

    Reed mentioned her mother and sister at the Lagos brothers¡¯ party. Was that it? Was that where her power came from? The source of her strength.

    I frowned at the contradiction. At the fact, a person so cold and calculating could have a soft side.

    Reed embraced those she loved, yet she was strong. She was stronger than me! It didn''t make any sense, but what did these days?

    Was she as strong as Sin?

    I shook my head.

    No¡­

    "That¡¯s impossible."

    "What''s impossible?" Isla asked.

    "Oh! Uh, nothing. So¡­ What are we going to do for the rest of the day?"

    Castille huffed.

    "The Inquisitor is right. We should eat our fill and pack it in early. Tomorrow is a big day.¡±

    Dugan nodded.

    "T-T-Thor should be awake now."

    "Good, we''ll be needing that bed."

    Dugan blushed through the loose, brown curls of his beard.

    I sighed.

    Why couldn¡¯t Castille make up her mind?

    Dugan and Cassandra were both fine matches. She should pick one instead of leading both of them on.

    I turned to Isla.

    "Want to do some dagger drills?"

    Her face lit up.

    "Sure, they help me focus."

    "Is that what the kids call it now?" Castille asked.

    "Spirits below, what''s gotten into you?"

    "You don''t feel it, Jacob?! The danger in the air. The enemies scratching under our feet-"

    "OK, Mother Geslin."

    "It''s the day before a big battle..."

    She looked from me to Isla.

    "This may be our last chance to live a little."

    Castille led Dugan up the stairs, leaving me and Isla alone.

    She looked up at Castille''s back, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

    "I don''t get her sometimes. It''s like she''s speaking in riddles."

    "Yeah..."

    Did she always look this... beautiful?

    "Jacob¡­"

    I turned to the man approaching us from the bar.

    "Arwen, is something wrong?"

    "No, nothing like that; just wanted to loop you in. I sent runners to our people in the Residential Quarter. They¡¯ll gather our troops and send them here in the morning. We''re going to stay the night. There¡¯s no sense in leaving and coming back."

    "We?"

    Floorboards creaked as Tom lumbered towards me. His face was a mask of purpling bruises covered by his mop of brown hair.

    I sank into my stance, my left hand on the handle of my cane.

    Tom grinned down at me, reopening the cuts on his lip.

    "You fight good, elf."

    He reached out a hand that could cup my head.

    I blinked at it before reaching out to shake the giant paw.

    "Is everything... intact?"

    "The family jewels ain''t cracked if that''s whatcha mean."

    He looked up to the second floor.

    "I''ll get affirmation of that real soon."

    "Confirmation,¡± Arwen said.

    "You know what I mean!"

    He slapped me on the shoulder and bounded up the stairs. So that was the real reason they wanted to stay. I couldn''t blame them. Castille was right. We could all be dead by tomorrow evening.

    I glanced at Isla.

    This was our last chance to live a little.

 The Cursed Lands Part 53

    Isla and I stared at each other from opposite sides of our room. Ice covered the blades of the daggers we held, blunting their edge.

    "Ready?"

    She nodded, chewing on her bottom lip.

    We started slow, trading slashes and thrusts with our daggers that left wet streaks on our clothes and skin. This was important. The first thing to accept about a knife fight is you would get stabbed. Accepting that reality helped you think straight. It kept your body moving instead of curling up into a ball to avoid pain.

    I remembered what Sin used to say: Pain is not an enemy or a friend. Pain is a neighbour. We greet it when we leave our house and when we return, but we never let it in.

    Pain lived somewhere else.

    Is that why it was so easy for me to become numb? I built a house for my pain made of flimsy stones and cheap mortar. The walls collapsed when I burned down the watchtower. I tried to rebuild it, but there were cracks. The pain was seeping through¡ªthe pain and everything else.

    Ignore it!

    That was the only solution. I couldn¡¯t kill it. I couldn¡¯t seal it away. It always escaped. Even worse, it knew how to pick my locks. It set traps that forced me to remember what I would give anything to forget.

    We moved into sparring. She earned it. I needed the distraction.

    Sin made me spar before I learned to fight. That way, every bad move was punished before it became a habit. It was an efficient method but brutal¡ªtoo brutal for Isla. Maybe that was the excuse I needed to tell myself.

    Isla was stiff, forcing her mind to instruct the body when it should have been the other way around. The body knew what to do; the mind only got in the way.

    "One last time," I said, sinking into my stance. Isla mirrored me with her right hand forward.

    I thrust my dagger at her chest. She slipped to my left, slashing at my extended forearm. I pulled my arm back; the ice-coated blades slapped together with a dull thud.

    "Nice."

    I slashed across her body, from clavicle to hip. She spun out of the way, swinging her dagger in a back fist. I caught her wrist with my free hand, slamming my forearm against her elbow with enough force to make her drop the dagger.

    ¡°Ow! I can¡¯t feel my arm.¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, kicking the weapon back to her feet.

    She picked it up, rubbing the numbness out of the joint.

    I stepped forward. Isla stepped back. I shook my head.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    "You need to be aggressive. You can''t win by retreating."

    She crouched and lunged forward.

    I flicked my dagger at her face, sending droplets of melted ice into her eyes. I danced to the right, avoiding her lunge to rest my dagger against her carotid artery.

    "But not too aggressive."

    She sighed, running the back of her hand over her eyes.

    "You¡¯re doing good! Much better than me when I started."

    "That''s subjective... Wait, weren''t you a child when you started training?"

    I sat down at the foot of the bed.

    "Hey, for an eight-year-old, I was a beast."

    More rabbit than wolf, but she didn''t have to know that.

    Isla laughed.

    "Jacob Sin, the Abyssal Lands¡¯ scariest eight-year-old."

    I chuckled despite myself.

    "This is serious. I''ve spent most of my life training to be a weapon."

    She cocked her head.

    "A weapon?! That''s dumb."

    "What?"

    "People aren''t weapons¡ªthey''re people."

    People... are people?

    Brilliant observation.

    I sighed.

    She didn¡¯t understand¡ªnot many could. They didn¡¯t have Sin in their life.

    "Speaking of weapons, I wanted to give you this."

    I got off the bed and walked to my old coat hanging from the closet door. I ruffled through the pockets, pulling out the last hand bomb from Elmer''s shop. Isla''s eyebrows raised as I dropped the round metal ball into her free hand.

    "Shouldn''t you hold on to this? You''re the one that creates fire."

    "That''s why I''m giving it to you. Here..."

    I slipped the spark wheel out of the base of my top knot, sliding it between her index and middle fingers.

    "I can figure out how to create my own explosions, but you fight from afar. You''re in the best position to know when to use this."

    She smiled.

    "You''re more confident in me than I am."

    "Don''t let it get to your head."

    I paused and grimaced.

    "There''s another reason I''m giving you the bomb. Reed is going to use me as bait."

    "What?!"

    "It''s the only thing that makes sense. Out of the four of us, Nostrand Del targeted me. He wants revenge against his sons and thinks I¡¯m one of their descendants.¡±

    ¡°Because you''re a half-elf?¡±

    ¡°Yeah...¡±

    Let¡¯s just ignore that I lied to him about being a relative.

    ¡°Anyways, it''s classic misdirection. He¡¯ll focus on me, giving all of you the opening you need to blow up him and his enchanted orb."

    ¡°That¡¯s risky. I thought she needed to keep you alive.¡±

    ¡°I guess she believes in us.¡±

    I shrugged.

    ¡°Or she likes to gamble.¡±

    Isla stared down at the bomb in her hand, understanding its importance. Most likely, she would be delivering the killing blow to the ancient king.

    No pressure.

    "I''m going to get something to eat. You coming?"

    She sat down at the foot of the bed, staring at the bomb in her hand with wide eyes.

    "In a minute¡­"

    I walked to the door, stopping to turn around and raise my ice-coated dagger.

    "Oh yeah. Do you mind?"

    Without moving a muscle, Isla dissolved the ice around the blade into wisps of cool mist. I sheathed the dagger back into my cane.

    "Thanks."

    She was brilliant, but only at Landbound Magic.

    People are people?

    What a joke.

    # # #

    At night, I slept on the floor again. It had become a necessity. The distance from Isla helped me ignore the feelings nibbling at the edges of my mind.

    When did it happen? When did this thing inside me start growing like a weed? What would it blossom into?

    Love?

    Love?!

    No. No, it couldn''t be that.

    After everything I''ve been through¡ªeverything I sacrificed. How could I be¡­ this weak?

    I swept the feeling aside, pushing it through the cracks in the wall where I kept the things that didn''t matter.

    This was Castille''s fault. She was too free in who and how she loved. Now, her depravity was rubbing off on me. That woman! Didn''t she have a Mrs. Dulldrey to raise her properly? There were rules for these sorts of things!

    Enough¡­

    There was no point in fighting myself or blaming my friends. Tomorrow, I would have more than enough enemies to vent my frustrations on.

    I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me.

    A weapon.

    A weapon.

    I am a person...

    Damn it¡­

 The Cursed Lands Part 54

    Leather soles slapped on the cobblestone.

    My heart was racing, and each thud in my chest was a warning.

    She¡¯s coming¡­

    No¡­

    She¡¯s here¡­

    My eyes snapped open, greeting the darkness that robbed my sight.

    It was the middle of the night, and my body was trembling.

    That wasn¡¯t my body¡­ That was the floor!

    "Isla," I whispered.

    I crawled to my feet, conjuring a tongue of fire to dance above my hand.

    "Isla!"

    "Whaa?"

    Her question trailed off into a yawn.

    "Do you feel that?!"

    "Feel what?"

    BOOM!

    The room shook. The wooden beams of the Pit creaked and settled into a tense silence.

    I crouched, my right hand grabbing the bed frame for balance.

    "Was that an earthquake?!" Isla asked.

    "I don¡¯t know..."

    I lit the lantern on the dresser and slipped into my jacket. Out of my view, Isla changed as well, stepping into the light in her dress and cloak.

    BOOM!

    The room shook again. I grabbed the lantern before it fell to the floor.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    That wasn¡¯t an earthquake. That was a shockwave from an explosion. One much larger than Elmer¡¯s hand bombs.

    What¡¯s happening out there?

    I opened the door, sticking my head out the entrance.

    Thor''s grunts were muffled in the neighbouring room. Other heads peeked out of doors down the hallway.

    "Castille?!"

    The door beside me ripped open.

    "I''m here!" she said, fastening the last leather strip of her breastplate.

    "What''s with Thor? Does he smell enemies?"

    "Yes!"

    "Where?"

    "Everywhere!"

    BOOOOOOM!!!

    Another explosion rocked the Pit. Glass windows on the first floor shattered. A chorus of screams rose from the nearby rooms.

    Spirits below!

    "That one was closer!"

    ''We need to get out there, double time!"

    We ran down the stairs, Castille and Dugan in front, followed by me, Isla and Thor.

    Something heavy slammed onto the floor. Outside the window, a torch flit into view.

    "Jacob, the torch!"

    "I-I¡¯m not good at putting out fire!"

    Someone out of view tossed the torch through the window. Before it landed, a stream of water over my shoulder doused the flames.

    "I got it!" Isla said.

    At least one of us did.

    Castille and Dugan charged the entrance. I walked closer to the foreign object on the floor. It was a cracked stone pot the size of my head, wrapped in netting from the underground town. Something was leaking from it. It smelled like oil but stuck to the bottom of my boot like syrup.

    "What is it?" Isla asked.

    "Some kind of explosive."

    Thor waddled forward to sniff the stone container, wrinkling his nose at the pungent odour.

    "Anytime, you three!"

    ¡°Sorry.¡±

    Isla and I ran to the front of the Pit, skipping over pieces of broken glass to press against the wall beside the front window.

    I took a deep breath and steeled myself to look outside.

    Stone men shuffled through the firelit streets, carrying torches and swords. Others carried spears, short bows or nets bulging with more stone pots.

    BOOOOOOM!!!

    A shop down the street exploded in a ball of fire and wooden debris. I turned away from the blinding flash of light.

    "Spirits below! It''s like the end of the world out there."

    "Not if we can help it!" Castille said, beating an unseen enemy at the doors with the pommel of her sword.

    "How can we help?" Isla asked.

    "We''re being boxed in! Jacob, we need to clear the stone men from the stairs. Get out that window and flank them.

    Isla, watch for more torches and explosives. If the Pit catches fire, we¡¯re all dead."

    I handed Isla my lantern, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves.

    "Wish me luck."

    She smiled.

    "You don''t need it."

    We''ll see about that.

    I unsheathed my short sword and jumped into the fray.

 The Cursed Lands Part 55

    Chaos.

    The smell of burning wood and oil assaulted my nose. Buildings crumpled. A dozen fires crackled and burned, washing the world a violent orange. Through it all, the stone men danced, silhouetted by fire¡ªhalf hidden by the smoky haze clogging the air.

    It was the mansion all over again.

    No!

    I shook my head, blinking away the salty tears blurring my vision.

    It''s the smoke making me tear up. Just the smoke¡­

    I turned to the mass of stone men blocking the Pit¡¯s doors.

    Six lay at the foot of the entrance, with eight more climbing the steps.

    That¡¯s where I was needed. That¡¯s where I could make a difference.

    The first rocky face that turned to me got the blunt end of my dagger in its eye. I willed it back into my right hand and thrust my short sword into its face. It crumpled before me.

    A second stone man turned, swinging its sword in a wide, horizontal arc.

    I ducked, wrapping my short sword behind its knees and hooking it against my dagger. I drove my shoulder into its hip, toppling it to the steps. Four more stone men turned to face me.

    "Now!" Castille said.

    Dugan went low and charged out the door. I rolled out of the way as the stone men fell over each other. Castille appeared a moment later, stabbing her sword down on their heads.

    That was one problem solved.

    A stone foot flew at my head. I hopped to my feet, turning to my enemy a moment too late. The sword swing caught me on the right shoulder. I rolled with the blow, the blade¡¯s edge glancing off my reinforced jacket. I rolled to my feet, short sword forward and dagger close to my body.

    I charged in, catching the sword at the top of its swing with my interlaced short sword and dagger. I stepped in and kicked its chest, knocking it down in front of the steps.

    Behind me, a bow drew taut. I turned on the balls of my feet, knocking aside an arrow flying at my face. I tossed my dagger at the bow-wielding stone man, cutting the weapon¡¯s string in two. The stone man sulked back into the loosely assembled crowd of enemies blocking the street. I willed the dagger back into my right hand.

    Around me, more stone men massed on the street¡¯s other side. Their forward lines carried fresh-forged swords and spears. Their backlines pulled back short bows to send arrows down on our heads.

    Castille finished off the stone man I knocked to the ground. She grimaced.

    ¡°We should fall back. We''re surrounded.¡±

    ¡°Why were they coming here? What made this street so important?¡±

    As if to answer my question, the doors of the Guildhall across the street creaked open.

    Of course, Nostrand Del hated the Sanctifiers as much as he hated his sons.

    Twenty black-clad guards marched out of the doors in two lines. They carried short, black truncheons and wooden shields. Between them, Reed swaggered out with her long, spiked club slung over her shoulder.

    "Jacob. Why am I not surprised to find you, once again, in the middle of trouble?"

    She looked to her left as a group of stone men loosed their arrows. She raised a hand, and a thin dome of golden light covered our heads. The rain of arrows bounced off it like hail beating on glass.

    I shrugged.

    "Trouble seems to follow me."

    "In this case, that¡¯s true."If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    The rest of my party walked to us, eyeing the dome over their heads.

    "Inquisitor?¡± Castille said.

    ¡°Castille?¡±

    The Northern woman clenched her jaw. Her mouth twitched as she struggled with her next words.

    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±

    Reed smiled, sweeping her inscrutable gaze over the street.

    "Steeltown must stand. Jacob, can you do anything about the fire?¡±

    I looked away.

    "I can''t. I didn''t create the fire, so I can¡¯t put it out."

    "A pity. Van Lagos could."

    I frowned.

    ¡°Then go and ask him.¡±

    "I-I could do something," Isla said.

    Reed stared at Isla with a quirked eyebrow.

    "Then do it."

    Castille looked off into the distance.

    "Your left line is collapsing, Inquisitor, Dugan, and I will back it up.¡±

    Reed nodded.

    "I''ll join you. Jacob-"

    WOOOOOOWEEEEEE!!!

    Our heads turned to the front doors of the Pit. Tiny Tom Harwick filled the frame, with Arwen peeking behind him, holding a broom in his hands.

    "Now, this right here is a fight!"

    He was smiling. The giant oaf was smiling. He lumbered down the stairs, almost tripping over the fallen stone men.

    Spirits below, he was drunk.

    Reed turned back to me.

    "Jacob, harass their flanks and scout their movements. I want to know their positions in Steeltown.¡±

    ¡°Take Thor with you. He can help you track them down," Castille said.

    Thor raised his head, swelling with pride.

    Tom pointed.

    "I''m going with the elf!"

    "What?!" Arwen and I said in unison.

    He smiled wider.

    "C''mon, I can be sneaky. You¡¯ve seen me sneak, uncle."

    I turned to Reed.

    She shrugged, an amused smile playing on her lips.

    "Your call."

    "Arwen?"

    He looked down, running a hand through his uncombed, thinning hair.

    "Just take care of my nephew."

    Are you serious?!

    I sighed. My short sword and dagger were heavy in my hands.

    "Fine, you better keep up."

    The large man rubbed his hands together.

    "Now, that''s what I''m talking about."

    Oh, I¡¯m going to regret this.

    I ran to the closest alley. Over my shoulder, Tom and Thor padded behind me, and Isla closed her eyes. She was preparing something big.

    Don''t burn too much will.

    Who knows what else was waiting in the dark?

    # # #

    Burning buildings lighted our narrow path in the alleyway¡ªtheir crackle masking our footfalls and the ash in the air stinging my eyes.

    I let Thor take the lead of our party of three. He trotted forward with confidence, taking occasional sniffs of the air.

    I wonder what stone men smell like.

    I didn¡¯t have time to ask.

    Thor grunted, stopping just before an intersection. I raised my hand, signalling Tom to wait. He leaned with his arm against the wall, his hand over my head.

    I checked around the corner.

    "What do ya see?"

    More stone men were shambling forward down the main road to attack our collapsing left line.

    Do we attack their flank now or later?

    ¡°Jacob?¡±

    I scowled.

    ¡°So, you do know my name?¡±

    ¡°Hey, I can¡¯t help that you''re an elf.¡±

    ¡°Half. Elf.¡±

    ¡°OK. OK. Half elf. Now tell me what ya see?¡±

    "More enemies. It looks like they¡¯re all coming down the main street. We need to be care-"

    He clapped me on the shoulder.

    "Then what are we waiting for?! Let¡¯s go!"

    The large man ran past me into the street.

    It took a few seconds to wipe the shocked look off my face. I turned to Thor, who could only shake his head.

    No wonder Arwen was balding! Tom was charging head-first into a group of enemies, outnumbered and unarmed.

    I let out a deep, long-suffering sigh.

    "C''mon, Thor, let''s go save the idiot."

 The Cursed Lands Part 56

    I ran after the cartel leader, sheathing my short sword with a twist to lock it in place and pulling the cane out of my sword belt. In my right hand, I flipped my dagger in my hand to pinch the blade. Against these enemies, blunt damage was best.

    A shambling group of stone men turned to face us. Two of them pulled back short bows and loosed.

    The arrows whistled past Tom''s left ear and right hip. He leaned down and smashed his shoulder into the closest enemy holding a bow. The weapon snapped like a twig. The tackle sent the stone man flying across the street.

    "Tom¡ªthe head! Go for the eyes!"

    "Go for the what?!"

    Tom caught the sword swing of another stone man by the wrist. He slammed his fist into its face. The rocky surface crumbled against flesh and bone.

    "Never mind."

    I threw my dagger into the other bow-user¡¯s face, snapping its head back. Thor charged in front of me, knocking the stone man off its feet. He stomped on its face, crushing stone and crystal under his hooves.

    Good boy.

    I willed my dagger back into my hand and turned to the sound of metal grating against stone.

    Great, what¡¯s he doing now?

    Tom was crouched over the stone man he destroyed as two more approached him with swords raised and spears levelled.

    "Tom!"

    He stumbled back, a wild sword swing barely missing his head.

    "Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

    I ran to his side. A stone man¡¯s arm dangled in his fist, frayed copper and gold wires jut out of its shoulder joint.

    "It would have been easier to take the sword."

    He beamed at me.

    "Where''s the fun in that?"

    Tom charged forward, swinging the arm like a mace at the stone man that attacked him.

    I batted away a spear thrust with my cane, closing the distance and stabbing the blunt tip into the attacking stone man''s crystal eyes.

    More were shambling towards us on the right. On my left, Reed''s guards were breaking through their lines. The Inquisitor was at the head of the charge, swinging her two-handed club in wide arcs that destroyed the heads of two and three stone men at a time.

    Impressive but risky. Each swing left her wide open for a counterattack.

    "Tom, we should-"

    Before I could finish the sentence, a curtain of white fog rose from behind Reed''s line. It rolled over Reed''s line of guards, the retreating stone men, and¡­ then us.

    Isla, you genius.

    The mist would put out the fires and slow down the stone men¡¯s advance.

    Tom and Thor turned into hazy silhouettes in the thick, wet fog. The moisture seeped into my clothes, making the fabric cling to me like a second skin.

    I smiled.

    She knew how to make me uncomfortable.

    "C''mon! Let''s keep going!" Tom said.

    ¡°Wait!¡±

    The large man¡¯s silhouette disappeared to my right.

    I huffed. He was supposed to be keeping up with me.

    "Thor?"

    He grunted.

    "Stay close."

    I walked through the mist, following the sharp cracking sound of stone knocking against stone.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    An arrow whistled over my shoulder.

    Great. They¡¯re firing blind.

    I prodded into the mist with my cane forward. In my right hand, I raised my dagger for another throw. I passed the broken bodies of stone men until-

    "AAARGH!"

    Tom¡¯s cry of pain cut through the mist.

    Damn it, Tom!

    I pushed caution aside and charged. Ahead of me, a ring of silhouettes surrounded a large mass on the ground. The thin shadow of spears and swords rose in the air.

    Shit!

    I broke out into a full sprint, screaming to get their attention.

    Come on¡­ Look at me. Fight me!

    Spears stabbed down. Swords bit into flesh with a wet chopping sound.

    ¡°No!¡±

    I was too late.

    Arwen, why did you trust me? Why did anyone?

    BAM!

    The head of one of the silhouettes disappeared. Its body fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

    BAM! BAM! BAM!

    I skidded to a stop, shielding my face from the shower of debris created by the exploding stone men. Their headless bodies fell in a ring around the large, squirming mass.

    BAM! BAM! BAM!

    The last of them fell in a hail of stone chips that scattered into the damp dirt.

    "Tom! You alive?!¡±

    "Yeah¡­"

    He sounded disappointed.

    I crouched over him. His grey work shirt was mauled, muddy from rolling in the dirt, bloody from over a dozen wounds.

    He sighed.

    "Why did ya have to save me?"

    A strange question.

    "It wasn''t me.¡±

    Thor let out a low whine, pushing his snout forward.

    A silhouette, slightly larger than a child, emerged from the mist. Their green, catlike eyes shined in the dying light.

    "Finnick?!"

    At my realization, the curtain of mist swept past us down the street.

    The soft squelch of footfalls in the dirt made me turn around. I squinted at the motes of golden light floating above Reed and her advancing guards. Castille and Dugan trailed a few feet behind, staying close to Isla and Arwen.

    The Inquisitor narrowed her eyes.

    "Finnick? Is Van here as well?"

    The Dahlgeshi crossed his arms.

    "No. My brother commands that we do not fight outside our property."

    "Then why are you here?"

    "The Lagos bird flies free. He commands the guards. Not me."

    Reed quirked an eyebrow.

    "Your participation has been noted."

    Her guards advanced past us, forming a new defensive line. Reed heaved her long, spiked club over her shoulder, sweeping her gaze over the smoking buildings.

    "Lady Kateen is mobilizing her forces in the Service Quarter."

    She turned to Arwen.

    "How are your forces?"

    "Some of my runners found me in the fighting. Resistance is light in the Residential Quarters."

    "Resistance light on our properties as well. The enemy is most dense in the Service Quarter," Finnick said.

    Dugan and Arwen walked past me to see to Tom.

    Castille moved to stand next to Reed, with Isla a few steps behind.

    "That makes no sense. The Service Quarter is the farthest from the Mountains."

    Castille''s¡ªno, Mother Geslin''s words echoed in my mind.

    Scratching below the surface¡ªunder our feet.

    My eyes went wide.

    ¡°Tunnels! They''re coming from tunnels!"

    "Tunnels? Could they make a tunnel from the Mountains to here in less than a day?" Isla asked.

    "Unlikely," Finnick said.

    I shook my head.

    "He''s been planning this invasion for over a hundred years. He probably has tunnels all over the Dellends."

    Like Southsun¡­

    My mind imagined that elderly woman trying to fend off a stone man horde.

    I think she would win.

    Castille nodded.

    "Now that makes sense."

    Reed cupped her chin and... smiled.

    "We''ll pull back and create a perimeter around the Guildhall, evacuating any civilians we find to the Pit.¡±

    She turned to me.

    ¡°You¡¯ll look for the tunnel, or tunnels, in the Service Quarter. I¡¯ll get Lady Kateen¡¯s guards to help once they¡¯re organized."

    ¡°I¡¯ll bring Thor. Is that alright, Dugan?¡±

    The stocky man was kneeling over Tom, fingertips pressed into his forehead. With his other hand, he raised a thumbs up.

    Castille nodded.

    "He¡¯ll find that hole."

    "Yes. You''re truffle pig. So Jacob, the boar,-"

    "And me. I¡¯ll go with the elf.¡±

    All eyes turned to Finnick. He snarled at the attention.

    "If you want to seal the tunnel, you''ll need me."

    "He''s right," I said before I could catch myself.

    "I wanna come too!" Tom said.

    Arwen blanched.

    "You''ve done enough, nephew. Git back to the inn and let Dugan finish healing you."

    He stuck out his lower lip, reopening the cut across his mouth for the second or third time. I wasn¡¯t keeping count.

    Reed sighed.

    "You have your assignments. Now get to work."

 The Cursed Lands Part 57

    Isla handed me the lantern from our room before falling back with the rest of the party¡­ and Reed.

    The Inquisitor was keeping her close. I didn''t like that. Isla might slip up. She might reveal a clue to her identity. Maybe I should stay back. Maybe I should-

    "Elf! Are we leaving or not?" Finnick asked.

    Isla pulled up her hood and walked further down the street.

    I forced myself to turn away.

    "We leave."

    # # #

    We walked in awkward silence through the back alleys of the Service Quarter. Thor was a foot ahead, his nose to the ground.

    I kept my lantern down by the hip¡ªany higher could draw attention to us.

    I glanced down at my Dahlgeshi companion. Finnick kept his head forward as he walked beside me with folded arms.

    What possessed me to bring him along?

    I sighed. I knew why. What else could it be? Utility: Sin¡¯s first lesson. Finnick¡¯s Landbound ability was useful. He could carve through stone men better than any knife. And with his cartel¡¯s future on the line, he just might play nice.

    I should say something, smooth over the rough patch of brambles between us.

    But what?

    How about the truth?

    "Thank you."

    He glanced up at me and scowled.

    "For what?"

    "For Tom. You saved his life."

    He scoffed.

    "I wasn''t trying to save him. I saw the enemy, and I attacked."

    "Is that how they trained you in Dahlgesh?"

    He bared his teeth.

    ¡°You know nothing of Dahlgesh.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why I ask.¡±

    He snorted.

    "My brother was the sword. I was the shovel. Dug a tunnel here. Dug a tunnel there. Dug everywhere."

    I let his words digest and nodded.

    "Smuggling."

    Finnick spat on the ground.

    "Smuggling."

    Thor paused, letting out a low murmur¡ªhis version of a whisper.

    It came too late.

    Slow, heavy footsteps padded toward us. Five stone men turned around the corner, their red crystal eyes glinting in the lanternlight.

    Finnick raised his right hand. Their smooth faces cracked and exploded in a burst of rubble.

    BAM!

    Thor yelped as the bits of rock bounced off his head.

    "I was never a warrior."

    "Could have fooled me."

    "I am nothing. A foulborn and a midget¡ªtwice the bastard. Without my brother, I wouldn''t have survived."

    "And now you protect him from his enemies."

    He stared up at me.

    "All his enemies, including himself."

    I held his stare. Van Lagos didn¡¯t know how good he had it.

    Ahead of us, Thor grunted, calling our attention around the corner. We followed him, stepping over the fallen stone bodies.

    "We''re getting close."

    "We better. I can only run so far."

    Thor stopped at the back of a warehouse. He scratched the wooden wall with his right tusk.

    "Your boar is broken."

    "No, it¡¯s worth a look."

    I knelt at the warehouse wall and let a small fire ignite above the tips of my index and middle fingers.

    "I knew it! I knew you were a mage!"

    "Keep it down."

    I shooed Thor away from the wall, bringing the fire closer to the wooden surface. I was still new to Landbound magic, but my training under Isla had given me ideas. Different ways I could stretch my abilities and increase my utility. If there was any time to try these ideas out, it was now. I imagined a knife cutting through meat, and the fire responded. It bobbed up and down, rippling into a slender, blue flame. I clenched my jaw, accepting the searing pain that crept from my fingertips to my knuckles.

    I pushed the torch against the surface, cutting a rough circle of singed wood big enough to crawl through.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    "Finnick, can you hold this?"

    I passed him the lantern. He snatched it with an annoyed huff of breath. I twisted out my dagger and pried the wooden panel loose, leaning it beside the wall.

    "More tunnels," Finnick said with disgust.

    "I''ll go first."

    I pulled my cane out of my sword belt and crawled on my belly through the hole.

    The smell of burning oil greeted me¡ªdim torches burned in the distance, obscured by stacks of boxes.

    I crawled to my feet, sliding my cane into my sword belt. I peeked over a low stack of boxes.

    A giant sinkhole had opened up in the middle of the warehouse, and out of that hole climbed the stone men.

    What were the chances?

    They pitched torches with long poles near the sinkhole. Others held torches to light the space. The warehouse doors were pushed open. Guards lay sprawled out near the entrance, their blood drying on the stone men¡¯s swords and spear points.

    "I can''t seal that," Finnick whispered, walking up to my side. Thor waddled up beside him.

    I nodded.

    "We found the hole. Let''s go back to the Guildhall and come back with Reed and the others."

    "Look!¡±

    He pointed at the hole.

    Next to the opening was a staging area with equipment for their nighttime raid: weapons, arrows, unlit torches, and more stone pots like the one they tossed into the Pit.

    "They tried to blow up the inn with one of those pots."

    "It was the same for us. One was enough to blow up a smithy. Think of what a stack of them would do."

    I understood his meaning.

    "Lira was wrong about you, Finnick?"

    "How so?"

    "You can be reckless, too."

    Finnick bared his teeth in a wild grin.

    ¡°We must end it, elf. If we retreat now, they¡¯ll do more damage to the town.¡±

    I counted twenty-five stone men, with more crawling out of the hole by the minute.

    "Thor?"

    He grunted.

    "Go back to Dugan. This is going to be dangerous."

    The boar let out a low whine. I pointed a finger.

    "No arguing!"

    He huffed and trotted away with his head down.

    Finnick smirked.

    "You''re hard on the beast."

    "Strength is all he understands."

    "Like all animals. Come."

    Finnick sprinted ahead of me, slipping between the boxes with surprising stealth. I burned my will into my jacket and followed. We worked around the edges of the sinkhole, cutting a wide path to the front doors. Finnick stopped at the side of the warehouse.

    "Argh! Why can''t I look at you?"

    "Enchantment."

    Finnick scoffed.

    "An elf trick."

    Well, he wasn''t wrong.

    "We need to get to those doors before we blow this building. Stay behind me."

    I hopped over a crate and crouched low, stalking closer to the hole. There was no cover between the front entrance and the sinkhole. A crowd of stone men blocked the entrance. They were equipping themselves, preparing for another attack.

    "Finnick?"

    "Here."

    "I''m going to make a run for those pots. Cover me. When I kick them down that hole, we run. Got it?"

    "Yes."

    Hmm. Maybe Finnick wasn''t so back after all. All it took was a common enemy¡ªsomeone we could both hate.

    "Now!"

    I dropped the jacket''s enchantment, jumping over the crate to run into massing stone men.

    BAM!

    The head of the stone man closest to me exploded in a shower of dust and gravel. I covered my face with my forearms, running blind into the crowd.

    BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

    Chunks of rock pelted my forearms, shoulders and back. I slid under a sword swing aimed at my head and kept sliding. The floor was slanted closer to the sinkhole, and I was falling in!

    I clawed at the dirt floor, grasping for purchase. The ground disappeared under my legs. I willed my dagger into my hand, punching it into the ground with both hands. My lower body was dangling over the edge. The stone men were coming from above and below.

    The one that tried to take off my head was getting closer. It raised its sword for a downward swing.

    BAM!

    Its head exploded, sending the body tumbling in my direction. The impact knocked my hands loose. I jolt of raw fear sent my hands scrambling as I slid over the edge. I willed the dagger back into my left hand, piercing it into the hard-packed earth.

    ¡°ARGHHH!¡±

    I gulped down mouthfuls of stale air, shallowing the toxic dust that caked my tongue. Everything below my chest was shallowed by the darkness below. I swung my foot over the edge, crawling back to my feet to survey the warehouse.

    Finnick had done his work. The warehouse floor was littered with headless stone bodies, but more were shambling back through the entrance. I stumbled to the stone pots, tugging on the netting that kept them bundled together.

    Spirits below, these are heavy!

    BAM!

    Wait, stone pots?

    BAM! BAM!

    "Finnick!"

    BAM!

    "What!"

    BAM! BAM!

    "Move these for me!"

    BAM!

    "Fine!"

    Finnick ran to me from the crate he used for cover, destroying the stone men as he went.

    He looked over the sinkhole, knocking off the stone men climbing up.

    ¡°Get ready, elf.¡±

    I nodded, conjuring a ball of fire that hovered in the palm of my raised hand.

    "I''m ready."

    "Good."

    Finnick grunted. Dull grinding echoed in the warehouse as the stone pots scraped along the floor. The netting came loose, and, one by one, the pots rolled down the slanted floor into the gaping hole.

    "There. Do it now!"

    I hurled the fireball into the darkness and waited.

    Did I miss? Could I miss?

    The sound of stone pots shattering met our ears.

    A delayed effect.

    Finnick and I looked at each other and bolted for the doors. He was running too slow! I picked him up and carried him under my arm.

    Just a few more-

    KAAAAAAAAABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

    The shockwave threw me off my feet. Finnick was sent flying out of my arms. The force turned me into a rolling mass of limbs tumbling through the warehouse entrance.

    Am I dead?

    I blinked up at the night sky. The grey haze of smoke hid the stars and moon. Ash and dirt rained down on my face. I shook my head and wiggled my arms and legs¡ªeverything was working.

    "Finnick?!"

    "What?!"

    "Are you alright?"

    "Of course."

    I rolled to my side. The warehouse was reduced to a burning pile of wood. A few feet in front of me, Finnick brushed himself off, stepping around a quarter dome of stone that protected him from the worst of the blast.

    "You could have made one of those for me."

    He scoffed before looking back at the warehouse.

    "That fire is spreading. Can you stop it, elf?"

    I groaned as I got to my knees, wiping a layer of dust off my face.

    My body was a giant bruise.

    ¡°Elf?¡±

    ¡°I need a minute!¡±

    Finnick moved away from the burning ruins to stand beside me with folded arms.

    I narrowed my eyes on the orange-red flames. The explosion sent burning debris into the neighbouring buildings. If nothing were done, the fire that I started would engulf the Service Quarter.

    But unlike the fires earlier in the night, this one was mine. I reached out with that strange third arm and laid a smothering hand over the fires until they died down to embers.

    "Is it done?" Finnick asked.

    "Yeah," I said, panting between short breaths.

    "Good."

    A dagger slid out of Finnick¡¯s sleeve with a whisper. A small hand grabbed my top knot, jerking my head back as a blade cut into my flesh.

    I blinked, confused, as warm liquid spilled down my neck.

    "Because now you die."

 The Cursed Lands Part 58

    I grabbed Finnick''s wrist, turned my palm toward me and willed my dagger into my hand in a reverse grip.

    With all my strength¡ªall my anger, I slashed up.

    The dagger sliced through the soft silk of Finnick¡¯s shirt and the tendons of his forearm. I spun on my knees, driving my weapon down on his head.

    Eyes wide, he held up his flopping right hand. The dagger impaled his palm, driving down to pin the hand to his cheek and skewer his tongue.

    I ripped it free, staggering to my feet.

    "Finnick! Why?!"

    He scowled at me. Blood poured through the jagged hole in his cheek. His right arm dangled below his elbow.

    "I prothect my brother. From himsthelf and from you!"

    The ground at my feet cracked. I jumped, throwing my dagger and rolling to my left. A moment later, spikes of stone shot up from where I stood. Another spike erupted in front of Finnick, deflecting my dagger.

    I rolled to my feet, pressing my right hand against my neck.

    "You''re cut was shallow, Finnick! You should have smashed me over the head and saved us both some trouble."

    I raised my left hand, burning my will to send a torrent of flame at the Dahlgeshi.

    Die!

    The fire engulfed the stone spike and everything surrounding it. After a few seconds, I let flames sputter out. I walked around the spike in a wide arc, keeping my hand raised for another attack. My fire had singed the ground a sooty black, but where I expected to find a burning body, I found a hole instead.

    "Of course! You and your tunnels! You hate them until you need them!"

    Don¡¯t shout, stupid.

    I crouched, pouring will into my jacket and waiting for Finnick¡¯s counterattack.

    One minute¡­

    Two minutes¡­

    Ten minutes¡­

    Did he run away?

    I stood up, and the world spun. I peeled my hand away from my neck for a moment and grimaced. The wound was shallow, but the bleeding hadn''t stopped.

    I needed to get back to the Pit. I needed Dugan to heal me. I could deal with Finnick later. After all, I knew where he lived.

    I took a step forward, and my foot sank through the ground.

    The earth shallowed my leg up to the knee. With only one arm to balance, fell forward and tasted mud.

    I flailed, grasping for anything and finding nothing. I didn¡¯t know how to swim, but at that moment, it wouldn¡¯t help. Each movement sucked me further and further into muddy depths.

    Over my panicked gasps of air, a low voice purred.

    "Sthupid elf," Finnick said. "You would have thied easthier if you let me sthit your throat."

    He chuckled in a raspy hiss.

    "But this worths too."

    I tilted my head to the voice. It was all I could do. Everything below my neck was submerged in the thick mud. Finnick¡¯s short silhouette loomed over me, highlighted by the embers from the warehouse fire.

    "In Thahlgesh, we call this thuicksand. The more you sthruggle, the fasther you think. Think on your lasth momenths, elf. This is what if means to fight- AHHHHH!"

    Finnick''s short body flew in the air, landing head-first into the quicksand. Thor skidded to a stop at the edge where dirt and mud met.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Thor, you beautiful beast! I could kiss you!"

    The pack animal wheezed out a short series of laughs.

    Finnick''s head burst from the mud beside me, gasping for air.

    I pressed the side of my fist against his forehead and willed my dagger into my hand in a reverse grip.

    The dagger appeared, displacing bone and brain. I yanked it free with a spurt of blood and let Finnick¡¯s head fall limp to one side.

    With a satisfied sigh, I turned back to Thor.

    "Get me out of this mess."

    # # #

    Thor led me back to the Pit through back alleys, avoiding the stone men and patrols of Kateen''s guards. Based on his behaviour and the size of the hole, we closed the stone men¡¯s only tunnel into Steeltown. Without reinforcements and supplies, they would be defeated. Steeltown would stand, and Nostrand Del''s first volley in this war had fallen short.

    It hadn¡¯t been without sacrifice. We walked past one burnt building after the other with no lantern or fire to light our way. I tilted my head up to the sky. A few stars were able to twinkle through the grey haze. I winced and pressed harder against my neck. That wasn¡¯t smart. I was opening my wound wider.

    I didn¡¯t care.

    Thor grunted and turned the corner into the main street.

    I sighed.

    ¡°Are we there yet?¡±

    I followed the boar, each step taking more effort than the last. I turned the corner and shielded my eyes. A makeshift barricade made of repurposed wood faced me halfway down the street. Torches on poles were strapped to the wooden wall, and between them, people lined it, levelling crossbows and other ranged weapons in my direction.

    "Wait! It''s the half-elf," a woman said.

    I blinked.

    Finally, one of them got it right.

    They lowered their weapons. The men in long brown coats were more hesitant.

    A covered wagon with planks of wood covering the gap between its wheels rolled to the side, revealing an entrance to a bustling camp.

    I scratched my cheek, flaking off dried mud.

    They¡¯ve been busy.

    I walked past the barricade.

    Groups of armed men and women walked in patrols. Evacuated shopkeepers and store clerks worked in assembly lines, making fortifications.

    They all stopped and stared at me.

    I couldn¡¯t blame them. I was caked head to toe in mud and blood, walking beside a boar with saddlebags strapped to its sides.

    Clap!

    My eyes darted to the sudden noise.

    Clap!

    Another. A shopkeeper with a handlebar mustache pressed his hands together.

    Clap! Clap! Clap!

    The slow claps turned into full-on applause.

    ¡°Half-elf!¡±

    ¡°Half-elf!¡±

    ¡°Half-elf!¡±

    Were they cheering for me? These people are insane.

    I gave them an awkward wave. Thor raised his chin, walking tall up the stairs of the Pit.

    When in doubt, follow the boar.

    The activity inside the Pit was even more of a flurry. Tables were pushed together in the center of the dining room. Maps of Steeltown covered them, leaving not an inch of surface bare. Reed, Kateen and Arwen stood at the head of the tables in the eye of the storm. Around them, runners from different parts of the town barked out reports of enemy movement.

    Dew Able and other black-robed Sanctifiers at the tables removed copper coins on the map to the pleased smiles of Arwen and Kateen. At the bar, Tom drummed his fingers on the countertop, waiting for Cassandra to refill his mug of ale.

    His face lit up when he saw me.

    ¡°Jacob, you¡¯re alive!¡±

    The eyes fixed on the tables turned to me.

    "You look terrible!" Arwen said.

    "I''ve lived through worse."

    Kateen smirked before turning up her nose.

    I needed to keep an eye on her. She would kill me the first chance she got, and in war, there were many.

    Reed favoured me with a slight smile.

    "Jacob, I¡¯m glad you''re still among the living. We assumed that you and Finnick were behind that explosion. Are the tunnels to Steeltown closed?"

    "Thor seems to think so."

    He grunted in agreement.

    Reed nodded.

    "That matches our reports. Good."

    "Um¡­ Have you seen Dugan?"

    I removed the hand pressed against my neck, flashing a blood-smeared palm.

    "He¡¯s in the master suite upstairs with the others. You should freshen up. We''ll need you soon."

    I nodded, turning away to walk across the floor to the stairs.

    "Stop."

    Reed''s eyes narrowed.

    "Where''s Finnick?"

    I froze. The eyes of everyone in the room were on me. Even Tom glanced over his newly filled mug.

    What should I say? The longer I waited, the more guilty I looked.

    I sighed and shook my head.

    "He didn''t make it..."

    Reed inspected me. Her eyes flicked from the dried mud on my clothes to the wound on my neck.

    She closed her eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh.

    "Van Lagos is going to kill you, Jacob."

    ¡°I know¡­¡±

    I swept my gaze around the room, taking in the mixture of curious and contemptuous stares.

    ¡°But right now¡­ I just want to survive the night.¡±