ã€ŠThe Soul Force Sagaã€‹


 1.1

    The sun shone down through a cloudless sky, bathing the training yard in warmth. Damien St. Cloud wanted to turn his face up to the light and let the sun warm him, but that would be a breach of protocol and the last thing he needed was to get yelled at for something so simple. There were plenty of other things for the masters to yell at him about.

    He took a deep breath, enjoying the sweet scent of spring blossoms blowing in over the wall. He stood at the end of a line of thirty-six other boys and girls, all thirteen years old and third-year students at The Citadel, the kingdom¡¯s training school for warlords.

    Whoosh crack!

    Damien managed not to wince when the master brought a wooden training sword down on the collar of the first boy in line. The Master of Fitness was a great bear of a man with huge muscles made even more massive by the infusion of soul force. He wore a blue tunic trimmed in silver with matching pants, the same as all the students, the only difference a silver shield pinned on his broad chest that marked him as a master of The Citadel.

    The sword snapped in half, the broken-off chunk flying across the yard, kicking up dust when it hit the dry dirt of the yard. The student never flinched or cried out; he¡¯d mastered his soul force enough to make his bones as hard as steel and his skin tougher than leather. Strengthening the body was one of the most basic skills a warlord learned during his training at The Citadel. All the third years could do it¡ªall except Damien.

    Whoosh crack!

    The next student in line, a fit girl named Tenna, took the blow as stoically as the first. She had short blond hair and a mean streak. Tenna liked to punch Damien whenever she got close to him, which was as seldom as he could manage. Tougher than most of the boys, she could take on anyone and usually win.

    Back when they were first years, before anyone had use of their soul force, Damien had been the best student in his class. He could take anyone, hell any two of his fellow students, in a fight, barehanded or with practice weapons. But now, everyone else had mastered the basics of using their soul force except Damien, leaving him the weakest student in the class. He¡¯d only made it through his second-year graduation tests because of his exceptional skills and the fact that none of the tests required him to use soul force to complete them. Not this year. This year he had to demonstrate the ability to toughen his body enough to take a blow on the collar without getting hurt.

    Whoosh crack!

    Another student, a giant idiot of a boy named Stan, who wouldn¡¯t know decent technique if Damien drove it through his stomach, took the blow without batting an eye. Stan might be an idiot, but he was better than anyone at strengthening his body.

    Damien turned his focus inward, to the great, seething mass of power in his core. For as long as he could remember everyone had told him he had the greatest soul force in his generation; fat lot of good that did him. He tried to coax the power out and run it along his bones, wrapping them in a matrix of power that would make them unbreakable. The masters all said this was the simplest technique and any third year and most second years should be able to do it with no trouble.

    Damien focused all his mental energy on moving the power through his body. He¡¯d spent countless hours studying and meditating, trying to get the power to obey his commands.

    Nothing.

    His power just sat there, mocking him. So much power he should be able to smash a hole through The Citadel wall with his bare hands and he couldn¡¯t coax so much as a flicker of movement out of it.

    At last, the master stood in front of Damien, a final wooden sword clenched in his massive right fist. All down the line, every eye focused on him. The master raised an eyebrow a fraction. Damien gave an equally minute shake of his head. The master closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. Damien¡¯s collarbone was about to get broken. Again.

    He held no ill will toward the master; he was only doing his job.

    The failure lay with Damien and no other.

    The wooden sword went up over the master¡¯s head. Damien tensed, determined not to pass out this time. The sword came down. At the instant of impact, Damien let his knees buckle to absorb some of the force.

    It didn¡¯t help.

    Bone snapped and pain raced through his body. His vision swam. He clenched his jaw to hold in a scream of pain. Despite his best efforts, a groan escaped his lips. He didn¡¯t collapse this time, didn¡¯t tumble to the ground unconscious and wake up in the healer¡¯s quarters. He salvaged some pride from that.

    Slowly, painfully, Damien climbed back to his feet, left arm useless at his side. The master held up the unbroken sword. ¡°Fail.¡±

    He didn¡¯t know who laughed first, but that first chuckle was joined by another and another, soon his whole class was laughing at him. Damien didn¡¯t say a word, didn¡¯t dare, fearing if he opened his mouth a scream would erupt.

    So much for the army¡¯s famous motto: ¡°For the person beside you.¡± Damien believed in that motto. He¡¯d heard it his whole life. His classmates either didn¡¯t believe in it or didn¡¯t consider him a comrade. Either way, he just stood there, left arm hanging limp at his side, and waited for the master to give him permission to go to the healer.

    The master shook his head. ¡°Go on.¡±

    Damien nodded an acknowledgement, a proper bow beyond him at the moment. He walked across the yard, his boots scuffing through the dirt, toward the towering stone fortress that gave The Citadel its name. It served as a school and home for both the students and the masters and their families.

    Like all the fortresses in the kingdom, sorcerers had built The Citadel out of dark gray granite, quarried in the northern mountains. The blocks were transported south, then fused together to make a single, solid piece of stone.

    The main door stood open during daylight hours, thank all the angels in Heaven, so Damien didn¡¯t have to wrestle the giant oak-and-iron thing open with one hand. Beyond the door, the entrance hall was empty, no surprise given the early hour.

    Straight ahead, a flight of stairs led to the second-floor living quarters. On either side lay passages deeper into The Citadel. Damien eased his way down the right-hand hall. He knew the way to the healer¡¯s quarters almost as well as he knew the way to the family suite upstairs.

    The first door on the right led to the servants¡¯ barracks. He passed it and went to the first door on the left. It was open and inside, holding a healing elixir and wearing a familiar, sad smile, stood Miss Ella, The Citadel¡¯s healer.

    Damien and Miss Ella had spent a great deal of time together since he began his training. She wore her usual white healer¡¯s robe, a red cross embroidered over her heart, her gray hair up in a bun. Behind her sat six empty cots separated by curtains. A locked chest against the far wall held all her healing supplies, not that she needed many. Warlords could heal themselves from almost any injury with soul force, so besides looking after the new students and Damien, Miss Ella had little to do. Maybe she was so nice to him because he provided her with job security. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I figured you¡¯d be along.¡± The wrinkles around her blue eyes crinkled in concern. ¡°How bad was it?¡±

    Damien caught himself before he shrugged. ¡°I didn¡¯t pass out this time.¡±

    She handed Damien the vial filled with red, bubbling liquid. ¡°Drink up, then I¡¯ll adjust the bone.¡±

    He tossed back the potion. The strong peppermint flavor burned his throat a little. Damien didn¡¯t care. The instant the healing elixir touched his mouth, the raging pain in his shoulder cooled to a dull ache. Whichever sorcerer had enchanted the potion, Damien owed him a thank you.

    Miss Ella gave him no chance to savor the loss of pain. She put one hand on his neck and the other on his shoulder and guided his collarbone into the proper position. When the broken ends of bone touched, they vibrated as they knit back together. No matter how many times it happened, Damien never got used to feeling his body heal.

    Damien sighed, the pain nearly gone. ¡°Thanks, Miss Ella.¡±

    She waved a hand, her face stern. ¡°You know the drill. No strenuous activity for a day while the bones finish healing. Anything doesn¡¯t feel right, come see me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. Dad¡¯s not going to be very happy with me failing again.¡±

    Miss Ella¡¯s lips turned down. ¡°That man expects too much from you. You try your best, no one can ask more than that. He gives you any grief, you send him to me. Master of The Citadel or not, I¡¯ll set him straight.¡±

    She sounded so fierce, Damien thought she might daunt the great Fredric St. Cloud, King¡¯s Champion and Master of The Citadel. But more than likely, his father would ignore her, the same way he did everyone who said something he didn¡¯t want to hear. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll head home and get a nap.¡±

    ¡°Make sure you drink a couple glasses of milk at lunch, you need the minerals to help the bones heal.¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± He bowed to her and left the infirmary.

    Damien retraced his steps back to the staircase and went up to the second floor. Well away from the public and student areas of the school sat the quarters assigned to the masters and their families. Damien, his sister and his father lived together in the largest suite: one of the few perks of being the son of the Master of The Citadel. On the downside, it was all the way at the end of the hall. That made it quiet, but when every step jarred his healing shoulder, quiet wasn¡¯t as important as proximity.

    He pushed the unlocked door open¡ªno one would be stupid enough to mess with Dad¡¯s room¡ªand went in. He¡¯d barely shut the door behind him when the mental voice of Lizzenwar, his father¡¯s demon-possessed sword, appeared in his head.

    You¡¯re hurt again.

    Damien smiled at Lizzy¡¯s concern. She hung over their little fireplace in her lacquered black scabbard. If Dad hadn¡¯t taken her today, he must be training with the fifth years. Damien walked between the couch and Dad¡¯s favorite ragged, overstuffed chair to the fireplace and ran his index finger along the cool, smooth scabbard. Lizzy¡¯s mental shiver tickled his brain. He didn¡¯t know if she actually felt it when he touched her, but she liked to pretend.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a broken collarbone. Miss Ella patched me up.¡±

    That¡¯s the third time this year. How many times are they going to hurt you?

    Damien sprawled on the couch, kicked his shoes off, and closed his eyes. An instant later, he floated in a star-filled night sky. Lizzy flew beside him, black-feathered wings spread, tail lashing behind her, and naked as a newborn. Damien smiled. She liked to try to shock him by appearing nude, but she¡¯d done it so many times, he hardly twitched. Not that Lizzy wasn¡¯t worthy of a great reaction. She had a perfect, voluptuous figure, smooth pale skin, bright red lips and smoldering red eyes. She was easily the most beautiful woman he¡¯d ever seen. The fact that she was a mental projection didn¡¯t bother him in the least. When she brought his consciousness into her psychic world, they were both real.

    ¡°I get one more chance to pass the test of endurance. If I fail it again, I can¡¯t advance to fourth-year studies and will have to repeat the third year. I can¡¯t see much point. If I haven¡¯t accessed my power by now, what are the chances another year will make any difference?¡±

    ¡°None, I¡¯m afraid.¡± She had a husky, sultry voice that oozed sex. Centuries ago, before her first lover bound her soul to the sword rather than let it return to Hell, Lizzy had been a lust demon, her purpose to seduce and corrupt mortal sorcerers. He suspected she was really good at it. ¡°What will you do?¡± she asked.

    Damien shrugged. In this world, his shoulder caused him no pain. ¡°What can I do? I¡¯ll train hard and hope something jars my power loose. If I fail, I¡¯ll be back in three months with another broken collarbone.¡±

    The air around Lizzy shimmered and she cloaked herself in sheer black silks. She stuck out her bottom lip. ¡°Don¡¯t say that. It kills me a little every time you come home hurt. Maybe if you spoke to Fredric, you could convince him this isn¡¯t the right path for you.¡±

    Damien laughed. ¡°Dad decided this was the right path for me ten seconds after I was born and Mom died. I have to become a great warrior to make her death mean something. If I fail or quit, then she died for nothing. If I tried to walk away, I think Dad might kill me.¡±

    Lizzy flew over and hugged him, her wings wrapped around him. She felt so warm and soft and real. He closed his eyes and breathed in the spicy, cinnamon scent of her hair. ¡°I wish I could stay in this world with you.¡±

    She drifted back. ¡°You know you can¡¯t. Human souls can¡¯t be bound to objects like demons. Your place is out in the real world. But you can visit me as often as you like.¡±

    She lashed her wings and raced through the infinite night sky. With a thought, Damien flew after her. In this place, anything he imagined became possible. He chased her and they played tag through the sky. For a few minutes, he forgot about the test, his father, and everything else beyond Lizzy¡¯s mental world. He loved her for that gift, among many others.

    Lizzy stopped and hovered in the sky, her head cocked slightly as if listening to something beyond his hearing. Damien stopped beside her. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Your sister¡¯s coming. I¡¯m afraid our play time is over.¡± She sounded as disappointed as he felt.

    Damien kissed her, savoring the softness of her lips. ¡°I love you.¡±

    He blinked, and found himself back in his physical body, lying on the couch, shoulder aching, and wishing he could go back to the only place he was ever really happy.

    He shook that depressing thought out of his head a moment before the door opened and a tall, stunning girl with long, flowing blond hair, a slim build and a uniform just like his, rushed through. His sister Jennifer kicked her shoes off next to his and sat on the couch beside his feet.

    ¡°I heard about the test. Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, nothing I haven¡¯t dealt with before. Dad¡¯s going to be pissed when he finds out.¡±

    Jen grinned. ¡°Also something you¡¯ve dealt with before. What happened?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, that¡¯s the problem. No matter what I try I just can¡¯t get the power to respond.¡± He ground his teeth. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with me?¡±

    She squeezed his knee. ¡°Nothing. You¡¯ll make it work eventually.¡±

    The door slammed open. Damien didn¡¯t have to look to know his father stood there, scowling. ¡°Another failure, boy.¡±

    Damien sat up and peaked over the back of the couch. Sure enough, Dad stood in the doorway glowering, shaved head red with anger, his uniform flawless, his commandant¡¯s gold shield gleaming. If he got any madder steam would probably shoot out his ears. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a disgrace.¡± He stepped into the room and slammed the door closed. ¡°A disgrace to me, your sister, your mother¡¯s memory, and the name St. Cloud.¡±

    Damien winced at the barrage, but held his peace. What could he say? If Dad measured his worth by his ability as a warlord, he certainly was a disgrace.

    ¡°On your feet when I¡¯m speaking to you!¡±

    Damien jumped up and clasped his hands behind his back at parade rest. ¡°Sir?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve had enough of you embarrassing me. One more failure and you¡¯re done. The Citadel is a school for warlords. Weaklings have no place here.¡±

    Damien blinked. Was his father threatening to expel him? For another student that would be bad enough, but he could always go back home to a normal life. But Damien didn¡¯t just study at The Citadel, it was his home. Maybe it wasn¡¯t much of one, but he had nowhere else to go.

 1.2

    Damien leaned on the table in the little kitchen in their quarters and nibbled on a slice of bread covered with blueberry jam. The normally sweet jam seemed bitter this morning. He hadn¡¯t slept much last night. After his father¡¯s pronouncement Damien had thought of little else. Jen and Lizzy both tried to convince him Dad didn¡¯t mean it, but after seeing the disgust in his face Damien knew he did. Barring a miracle Damien would be homeless in a few months.

    He flexed his shoulder; the pain had vanished overnight, but it still felt a little stiff. His class had sword drills this afternoon and he felt good enough to join in, though he¡¯d have to sit out morning calisthenics or face Miss Ella¡¯s wrath. From behind the door to his sister¡¯s room came the sound of hard-soled shoes on stone. Damien covered a second slice of bread with jam and poured a glass of milk. Jen appeared in a swirl of blond hair. He handed Jen her breakfast and they ate for a while in silence.

    Halfway through her bread Jen said, ¡°I heard you tossing and turning last night. Did you get any sleep?¡±

    Damien shrugged and washed the last of his breakfast down with a swallow of milk. ¡°Not much. Busy mind, you know?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he didn¡¯t mean it, Damien. Dad would never kick you out. He was just upset.¡±

    Damien washed, dried, and put away his dishes. ¡°He didn¡¯t come home until early this morning and stayed just long enough to grab Lizzy. He can¡¯t even stand to be in the same room with me. I think he meant every word.¡±

    ¡°Try not to worry about it. Walk with me to strategy class?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    They left their quarters and went downstairs. Students from all years milled around the entry hall, talking, arguing and flirting. Every boy and many of the girls turned their heads to stare when Jen walked down the stairs, the boys in open awe and the girls with a combination of annoyance and jealousy. She ignored them all with her usual cool indifference. No one gave Damien so much as a second glance. Walking with Jen he never had to worry about getting too much attention.

    They turned down the left-hand hall towards the strategy room. Damien had a class there once a week, though they only covered basic, small-scale stuff. He loved strategy class. Since it didn¡¯t require soul force he excelled at it.

    Jen stopped halfway down the hall. ¡°Damn it! I forgot my paper. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± She turned and ran back down the hall about three times as fast as a normal person.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    She must have pushed soul force into her legs to enhance her speed. He shook his head as she disappeared around the corner. Just once he¡¯d like to run that fast.

    ¡°Well, well, well.¡±

    Damien turned to find a pair of fourth-year students ambling his way, soul-force-enhanced muscles straining against their uniforms. The tall blond with close-cropped hair was Dirk and the shorter bald one his idiot cousin Donk. Now would be a good time to be able to run like his sister.

    ¡°Our favorite punching bag, out and about without his big sister to protect him,¡± Dirk said, prompting an evil chuckle from his cousin. ¡°Word is you failed your endurance test again.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡±

    Dirk¡¯s lips curled into an ugly sneer. ¡°Tsk, tsk, you should show your seniors more respect. Perhaps we can give you some practice toughening up. What do you say, Donk?¡±

    Donk chuckled again and cracked his knuckles. Damien grimaced. This could get ugly in a hurry. ¡°Don¡¯t you two have anything better to do than bother me?¡±

    The two bullies shared a look then turned back to him. ¡°Not just now. We need our morning workout and you¡¯re it.¡±

    Damien brought his fists up in a futile gesture. He had no chance of beating them one on one much less together and judging by their grins, Dirk and Donk knew it.

    They lunged for him. Damien ducked and shot between Donk¡¯s legs. He scrambled away then spun to face them. The older boys weren¡¯t using any speed enhancements, which was the only reason Damien managed that move.

    ¡°Slippery, ain¡¯t he?¡± Donk said.

    ¡°Indeed. Shall we try again, cousin?¡±

    Dirk blurred and before he could react Damien slammed into the wall, Dirk¡¯s fist snarled in his uniform. His captor leaned forward. ¡°A weakling like you didn¡¯t think you could get away from us, did you?¡±

    Damien flicked a glance down the hall and grinned. ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to escape. I was trying to delay you.¡±

    Dirk frowned as he tried to understand. ¡°Why?¡±

    Damien nodded back toward the entry hall.

    Dirk turned his head just in time to catch Jen¡¯s fist with his face.

    Dirk flew down the hall, bounced twice, and crashed to a halt when he reached the far wall.

    Damien straightened his uniform. ¡°That¡¯s why.¡±

    Jen turned her furious gaze on Donk. Dim as he was, Donk had brains enough to make himself scarce. He ran to collect his cousin as fast as his soul-force-enhanced legs could carry him.

    When they¡¯d gone Jen relaxed. ¡°You okay?¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°I figured you¡¯d be back in a hurry. Funny, they didn¡¯t seem so interested in fighting two on two.¡±

    Jen snorted. ¡°Those two aren¡¯t interested in anything resembling a fair fight. Are you good to go to training on your own?¡±

    ¡°Sure. I doubt those two will bother me for a while.¡±

    Jen scowled. ¡°If they do I won¡¯t go so easy on them.¡±

 1.3

    Fredric watched the gold griffin circling in the bright noon sun. It was hot again today, too hot for this early in the year. If they didn¡¯t get some rain soon the crops would wither in the fields. He stood just inside the great granite wall that surrounded The Citadel grounds, next to the open space¡ªnothing more than a patch of dirt really¡ªthey¡¯d set aside for visiting sorcerers. Far from the fortress and training grounds, sorcerers were able to arrive with a minimum of disruption. That suited Fredric as he despised anything that interrupted the smooth operation of his school.

    Master Shen¡¯s griffin got lower with each circle. As sorcerers went he was a good one. They fought together during the last northern invasion. He both liked and respected the man, one of the few sorcerers whose company he enjoyed. Master Shen had a case of healing potions for the infirmary, luckily for his incompetent excuse for a son. Why couldn¡¯t the boy be more like his sister?

    Damien works harder than any two students in The Citadel. He¡¯s kind, courteous, and has more pure skill than men twice his age. You¡¯re far too hard on him.

    Fredric scowled, not appreciating having his sword commenting on his thoughts. That was the price you paid for having a demon living in your weapon. ¡°You¡¯re always making excuses for him. If he¡¯s trying so damn hard, why can¡¯t he do what he needs to?¡±

    I don¡¯t know, but threatening to kick him out of the only home he¡¯s ever had is hardly likely to improve his focus. He didn¡¯t get more than a couple hours¡¯ sleep last night.

    ¡°I¡¯m desperate. The masters have tried every trick in the book to coax Damien¡¯s power out and they¡¯ve all failed. Perhaps the fear of losing everything will force him to break through whatever¡¯s holding him back.¡± The griffin landed in the dry patch of dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust. ¡°Now be silent. I have to deal with the sorcerer.¡±

    Master Shen hopped off the griffin and waved a hand. The great golden beast vanished. Fredric shook his head. He¡¯d never get used to sorcerers. Creating something out of nothing wasn¡¯t natural. Master Shen wore loose-fitting gray trousers and a matching tunic. His long dark hair hung in a tail that reached down to the middle of his back. That¡¯d make a handy place for an enemy to grab and yank his head off. Over his shoulder the sorcerer carried a leather satchel.

    Fredric held a hand out. ¡°Master Shen, welcome.¡±

    They shook; he had an excellent grip for a sorcerer. Some of the soft, doughy saps they sent turned Fredric¡¯s stomach.

    ¡°Commander St. Cloud. What¡¯s it been, three years?¡±

    Fredric grinned. ¡°Almost four. It¡¯s good to see you, Lon. How long are you staying?¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.The slender sorcerer shrugged. ¡°As long as I can be of use. Training your students to deal with sorcerers is important, even if the best strategy for them is to escape as fast as possible.¡±

    Fredric¡¯s grin faded at the implied insult. ¡°I¡¯ve killed a sorcerer or two.¡±

    Lon laughed and shot a pointed glance at the sword at his waist. ¡°You¡¯re hardly an average warlord, Fredric. What¡¯s practical for the King¡¯s Champion is a little different than what¡¯s practical for most of your students.¡±

    Fredric grunted. Lon had a point; he just didn¡¯t like the idea that there were things out there a skilled warlord with a sharp sword couldn¡¯t handle. He started toward the fortress, angling toward the training yard to let Lon have a look at the second and third years that would get their first taste of sorcery over the next week or two.

    A hundred plus boys and girls stood in neat rows, practice swords in their hands, as they made the five primary slashes, one after the other, over and over again. In another year they¡¯d be able to make all those cuts, as well as any variations, without needing to think. At the far end of the first row his son performed them flawlessly. Fredric watched the boy flow from cross cuts to diagonal to vertical and back to the beginning. Despite his failings with soul force, Fredric found nothing to criticize in Damien¡¯s technique. He allowed himself a moment of pride. His son wasn¡¯t a complete failure.

    You should tell him that sometime.

    Lon stopped, his gaze locked on Damien. Fredric ignored Lizzenwar¡¯s comment and moved to join his old friend. ¡°Something wrong, Lon?¡±

    The sorcerer nodded toward Damien. ¡°Why is that boy training as a warlord?¡±

    Fredric stiffened. ¡°That¡¯s my son.¡±

    Lon tore his gaze away from Damien. ¡°He¡¯s a sorcerer, Fredric. A very powerful one.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t possible.

    If Lon had hit him over the head with a sledgehammer it wouldn¡¯t have stunned Fredric as much as that statement. Shala had been a mistress of the spear and a warlord almost as powerful as Fredric himself. That they¡¯d had a son who was a sorcerer defied belief. ¡°The seer. When Damien was born, the seer said he¡¯d be a warlord.¡±

    ¡°That much power contained in an infant¡¯s tiny body, I doubt the seer got an accurate reading of which direction Damien¡¯s power flowed. He figured you and Shala were warlords and so assumed Damien would be as well. It¡¯s rare, but seers aren¡¯t perfect. Your son is an external soul force wielder: a sorcerer, just like me.¡±

    It took all Fredric¡¯s considerable will not to fall to his knees on the spot. He¡¯d pushed the boy so hard, threatened to kick him out of their home, all because he couldn¡¯t make his soul force work. To find out now, after all these years, that no matter what he did or how hard he pushed, Damien would never be a warlord¡­

    His stomach churned and he feared he might be sick. All the masters had tried everything. It never occurred to any of them that Damien might have gotten misclassified.

    ¡°My friend, I¡¯m aware this is a shock, but Damien needs to go to Sorcery. If he should accidentally tap that massive power and release it with no control he¡¯d level The Citadel and kill everyone here, including himself. I have to take him as soon as he can get ready.¡±

    Fredric nodded, pulling himself together. An untrained sorcerer was a grave danger. Lon had the right idea. Damien needed the proper training as soon as possible. He put his fingers in his mouth and blew a shrill whistle. The masters looked his way and Fredric pointed at Damien then gestured for him to come over.

 1.4

    Out of the corner of his eye Damien watched his father and the strange man chat as they walked along the edge of the practice field. A moment later he felt the weight of the stranger¡¯s regard. Damien turned his head and locked gazes with the long-haired man. What the hell did he want?

    The stranger broke the connection between them and said something to his father. He wished he could hear what they were saying.

    While Damien watched, his body kept making the proper cuts without conscious direction from his mind. He¡¯d been doing them since he could stand. They required no more concentration than breathing. His father raised his hand to his mouth and blew a whistle.

    Everyone stopped. His father pointed at him and waved him over.

    What had he done now?

    The Master of Swords turned to Damien. ¡°You saw the commander, move out.¡±

    Damien sighed and trotted over to join his father and the stranger. Behind him the others resumed their training. Damien clasped his hands behind his back and faced his father. ¡°Sir?¡±

    ¡°Relax, Damien, you¡¯re not in trouble. This is Master Shen, an old friend of mine. He has something important to discuss with you.¡±

    Damien turned his focus on Master Shen. ¡°Sir?¡±

    The strange man smiled, a warm expression filled with kindness. The sort of expression his father never wore. ¡°I understand you¡¯ve been having trouble with your soul force.¡±

    Damien nodded. So this was some expert Dad had brought in to fix whatever was wrong with him. ¡°Yes, sir, it doesn¡¯t work.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯ve been using it wrong. Do you know about sorcerers, Damien?¡±

    He hesitated at the odd question. ¡°A little, from what I¡¯ve read and rumors, of course.¡±

    ¡°Would it surprise you if I said you were a sorcerer, like me, and not a warlord?¡±

    A sorcerer! He snapped a look at his father, who nodded.

    It¡¯s true, Damien. I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t realize it.

    When Lizzy confirmed it he accepted that they weren¡¯t joking. A sorcerer. How was it possible? ¡°Is that why my soul force doesn¡¯t work?¡±

    ¡°It works fine, Damien, just not the way you¡¯ve learned. Sorcerers like us use our powers outside our bodies, the exact opposite of a warlord.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Damien tried to process what Master Shen was saying, but failed. ¡°What happens now?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to train at The Tower of Sorcery, the school for sorcerers,¡± his father said. ¡°Go pack your things and Master Shen will take you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Damien ran for the fortress before they changed their minds.

    He leapt once as he ran. A sorcerer! He wasn¡¯t a failure after all. His father and all the masters thought they knew so much and not one of them realized he couldn¡¯t do what they wanted him to. It wasn¡¯t that he wasn¡¯t trying; his power just didn¡¯t work like theirs. Everything finally made sense.

    He ran through the front door, up the stairs, and down the hall to their quarters. He didn¡¯t have much in the way of clothes or possessions; Dad thought things just held you down and forced his preferences on him and Jen.

    Damien¡¯s bedroom held little save a bed, table and chair for studying, and a chest of drawers for his clothes. He dug his rucksack out of the bottom drawer and set to filling it. Small clothes, two tunics, two pairs of pants, and dress boots. A horn comb that had belonged to his mother he wrapped carefully in the tunics. Of his meager belongings, he treasured that one the most.

    He opened the top drawer and hesitated before taking the sword and dagger set his father gave him when he began training as an official cadet. The sword was almost identical to Lizzy, from its straight, thin blade right down to the lacquered black sheath. He sighed and hung it over his shoulder. The only people he¡¯d miss were Lizzy and Jen. He touched the hilt of the sword. Too bad he couldn¡¯t trade with Dad and take Lizzy with him. He couldn¡¯t of course. She was far too powerful to leave in the hands of a kid.

    The dagger had a short, curved blade and a sheath that matched the sword. He clipped it to his belt. Damien started for the door then hesitated again. He was still wearing his uniform. Only cadets and instructors wore the silver-and-blue tunics and after today he wouldn¡¯t be a cadet anymore.

    Best to make a clean break. He took off his weapons, dug out his black tunic, and tossed his uniform aside. He¡¯d never wear the damn thing again.

    The door burst open and Jen ran in. ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡±

    ¡°Dad told you? I¡¯m a sorcerer, apparently. I have to go to a school for sorcerers.¡±

    ¡°When will you be back?¡± She sounded so worried it tore at him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know anything except that I have to go. Hopefully, when I finish my training, I¡¯ll be able to come home.¡± Damien turned toward the door, his father stood in their watching. ¡°Of course, I may not be welcome.¡±

    She put her hands on his shoulders. ¡°You¡¯d better come back. This is your home whatever anyone says.¡±

    Damien hugged her and whispered in her ear. ¡°I¡¯ll miss you too.¡±

    What about me?

    Just for a moment Lizzy brought him into her world so they could talk without anyone overhearing. ¡°I¡¯ll miss you even more, Lizzy.¡±

    She hugged him with both arms and wings. ¡°What will I do without you?¡±

    ¡°I was thinking the same thing. I love you, Lizzy. As soon as they let me I¡¯ll come see you, I promise.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d better.¡± The instant before she returned him to his body he could have sworn she was crying.

    Master Shen entered the room. Damien kissed his sister on the cheek and stepped away. ¡°I¡¯m ready, Master.¡±

    He walked out past his father. They exchanged no words, didn¡¯t even make eye contact. Dad was probably as glad to be rid of him as Damien was to leave his father¡¯s disapproving glare behind.

 1.5

    Damien walked across the training yard beside Master Shen, his rucksack slung over his shoulder. It took all his focus to maintain a stoic expression. He¡¯d never need to stand in line waiting to get a broken bone again. No more orders and instructions he couldn¡¯t carry out. He was through with the place and all his father¡¯s expectations. If Jen and Lizzy could¡¯ve come with him he would never even consider returning.

    The stables sat at the rear of the grounds, the opposite direction from their path. Was Master Shen planning to walk all the way to The Tower or had he brought horses of his own? Or better yet, did he plan to summon a flying beast? Damien figured it wouldn¡¯t hurt to check, just in case he had gotten lost. The sorcerer didn¡¯t live here after all.

    ¡°Master, shouldn¡¯t we collect mounts before we leave?¡±

    Master Shen chuckled. ¡°No need for that, Damien. Sorcerers have faster means of travel.¡±

    They reached the dirt patch near the edge of the grounds where the sorcerers alway landed. Damien¡¯s heart raced. Master Shen was going to summon a flying beast. Damien could hardly contain his excitement.

    Master Shen raised his right hand and a golden glow appeared in the air in front of him. The glow expanded and shifted, forming into a great griffin. Damien stared at the huge beast. Would he be able to create such a thing? The prospect thrilled and terrified him in equal measure.

    Master Shen lowered his hand. ¡°Have you ever flown, Damien?¡±

    Flown? He¡¯d never considered such a thing possible for him outside Lizzy¡¯s psychic world. ¡°No, Master.¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯ll enjoy it.¡± Master Shen waved his hand again and three golden steps appeared from the ground. ¡°Climb aboard.¡±

    Damien went up the steps and found a pair of saddles had formed on the creature¡¯s back. He swung his leg over the back saddle and found it every bit as comfortable as sitting on a horse. The weirdest thing was the griffin didn¡¯t breathe or tremble. It felt like sitting on a statue.

    Master Shen climbed up in front of him and a moment later a golden belt appeared around Damien¡¯s waist holding him tight. Right, if they were flying the last thing he wanted was to fall off the back of this thing.

    ¡°Ready?¡± Master Shen asked.

    Damien nodded and the griffin leapt into the air. Seconds later Damien peered over his shoulder. The Citadel looked like a child¡¯s toy; the students training, bugs gathered around a sugar cube. Master Shen circled The Citadel once, perhaps imagining that Damien wanted a moment to say goodbye. If Master Shen believed that he was seriously mistaken. Damien was happy to leave the place, with its bullies and expectations, far behind.

    Master Shen made one last pass then turned east, the beast picking up speed. After a minute Damien realized there wasn¡¯t any wind and the griffin¡¯s wings, while spread, never beat.

    ¡°Master, why does your beast not breathe or beat its wings?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not alive, Damien. The griffin is a soul force construct. I like to use a griffin, but I could have made it look like anything.¡± Master Shen put his hand beside the griffin¡¯s flank and the creature flowed like soft clay. A moment later the griffin had shifted and Damien sat on a horse with no wings. The movement and feel of the thing hadn¡¯t changed a bit. ¡°See, nothing to it. The construct is just to give us a place to sit while we fly. I could¡¯ve shaped a couch for all the difference it would make, but a flying couch is beneath the dignity of a sorcerer.¡±

    Damien couldn¡¯t see his face, but he suspected from Master Shen¡¯s tone he was smiling. ¡°Why is there no wind?¡±

    ¡°Since I don¡¯t care to pick bugs out of my teeth, I wrapped us in a windscreen.¡±

    Amazing. The things a warlord could do astonished Damien, but this, this seemed impossible. ¡°Will I be able to do this sort of thing, Master?¡±

    ¡°Of course, conjuring soul force constructs is a basic skill for a sorcerer. You should be able to manage a flying mount by the end of your first year.¡±

    A year? Damien goggled. In a year he¡¯d be able to fly around like a bird whenever he wanted to? It was beyond comprehension.

    He looked down and watched the green treetops whiz by. That had to be the Great Green, the largest forest in the kingdom. It was over a day¡¯s ride from The Citadel and they were already well into it. How fast did the griffin fly? Ahead of them the edge of the forest raced closer, the lumber camp that sat beside the tree line resembling nothing so much as markers on the map in strategy class.

    ¡°We¡¯re almost there.¡± Master Shen turned his head to look at Damien. ¡°How are you?¡±

    Damien grinned. ¡°Eager to learn how to fly on my own.¡±

    Master Shen smiled as well. ¡°I remember that feeling. Hang on to it when you get frustrated.¡±

    The sorcerer turned back and pointed ahead and a little to the right. A great black tower jutted into the sky. Around it several smaller buildings huddled in the shadow of the surrounding wall. North of the complex sat a circular amphitheater, a well-worn path connecting it to the northern gate. A few miles distant from the tower, a little town had sprouted up. Like the one near The Citadel, it sat close enough to provide services for the masters, but far enough away to keep from tempting the students to sneak out and play.

    Their mount descended and as they flew closer to the school Damien got a sense of just how huge the tower was. It had to be a hundred and fifty feet tall and a hundred feet on each side. Though the shape differed he suspected the tower was every bit as big as The Citadel.

    Master Shen brought the horse in for a gentle landing. The belt holding him in place faded away and Damien hopped down to the ground. The sorcerer joined him and a moment later the horse vanished. Damien turned a slow circle. The yard was empty. Up on the wall he saw an occasional guard carrying a crossbow and wearing a sword strapped to his back. The way they were slumped suggested to Damien they didn¡¯t expect trouble. Lucky for them his father wasn¡¯t here. Even if they weren¡¯t expecting trouble he¡¯d have given them a thorough talking to about staying alert on duty.

    ¡°Where is everyone, Master?¡±

    Master Shen glanced at the shadow of The Tower. ¡°It¡¯s about three so I¡¯d guess they¡¯re in class. Sorcerers don¡¯t train much outside. The yard is used during flight practice as a place to take off and land. Sometimes the guards drill, or the students get a game of Long Ball going, but other than that it¡¯s usually empty. Come on.¡±

    Master Shen headed toward the tower and Damien followed a step behind and to his left as was proper for a new student. Halfway to the tower the sorcerer noticed him and laughed. ¡°No need to hang back, Damien. You¡¯ll find Sorcery a good deal less formal than The Citadel.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Damien quick-stepped until he reached the sorcerer¡¯s side. ¡°I¡¯ve gotten so used to the rules of The Citadel it¡¯ll take a while to learn new ones.¡±

    A set of double doors made of some dark wood Damien didn¡¯t recognize marked the entrance to the tower. Master Shen pushed them open and they swung inward without a sound and the two of them stepped through, the doors shut behind them.

    The tower¡¯s entry hall was smaller than the one at The Citadel. Polished black stone with silver veins running through it covered the floors, walls, and ceiling. It felt like standing in the night sky. Doors made of the same wood as the outer doors waited on each wall. Master Shen turned left and pushed a door open. Behind it, a hall covered in the same black stone led deeper into the tower.

    ¡°Down this hall are the administrative offices.¡± Master Shen led the way. ¡°I sent a message to the headmaster so he should be expecting us.¡±

    They passed several closed doors before stopping in front of one marked with a silver pentagram. On a bench opposite sat a boy Damien¡¯s age, with sandy brown hair, a brown tunic, and tan pants. Brown eyes stared at Damien, unblinking.

    He was about to ask the kid what his problem was when Master Shen pushed the door open. ¡°Come on.¡±

    Damien put the boy out of his mind and stepped into the headmaster¡¯s office. A huge cherry desk dominated the room, covered with books, parchments, quills and ink. Behind it waited a tiny man with a pointed white beard, dressed in a black robe embroidered with stars. Two small, dark chairs waited in front of the desk and matching bookcases stuffed from top to bottom with leather-bound books lined the walls.

    Damien bowed. ¡°Sir, Damien St. Cloud reporting for instruction, sir.¡±

    The little man hopped out of his chair and rushed around the desk. He couldn¡¯t have been over four and a half feet tall. He grabbed Damien¡¯s hand and pumped it enthusiastically. ¡°No need for such formality, my boy. Have a seat.¡± His voice matched his stature: small and squeaky. ¡°Excellent work finding him, Lon, thank you.¡±

    ¡°My pleasure, Thomas,¡± Master Shen said. ¡°I¡¯m heading back to The Citadel to resume their training.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course.¡± The headmaster waved his hand towards the door.

    Master Shen turned away from the desk. Damien said, ¡°I don¡¯t know how to thank you, sir, for telling me what I am.¡±

    ¡°As I said, it was my pleasure.¡± Master Shen favored him with his warm smile. ¡°If you put in half the effort training in sorcery that you did at The Citadel, you have a bright future ahead of you. Good luck.¡±

    Master Shen left the office and closed the door behind him. Damien swallowed, suddenly nervous. This place was different from home in every way and the only person he knew at all had just left.

    ¡°You seem a bit anxious. Sit down, please,¡± the headmaster said. He stepped back around his desk and Damien eased into one of the chairs. It seemed wrong, sitting in the master¡¯s presence. He¡¯d have taken five lashes back home if he¡¯d dared sit in one of the masters¡¯ offices.

    ¡°I suppose I am, sir. This is all so new, so different. I¡¯ll do my best to settle in quickly.¡±

    The headmaster waved an indifferent hand. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Everyone has a first day and everyone¡¯s nervous. Some settle in fast, others less so, but sooner or later everyone settles in. When Lon said he found you I was pleased to have a fourth member for the first-year class.¡±

    Damien blinked. Perhaps he¡¯d misheard. ¡°Excuse me, sir, did you say my class is only four people?¡±

    The headmaster nodded. ¡°That¡¯s about average. Last year we had five, the year before only two. We currently have twenty-three students in various stages of training.¡±

    Damien had over thirty in his class alone at The Citadel. ¡°Why so few, sir?¡±

    The tiny sorcerer chuckled. ¡°No need to add ¡®sir¡¯ every time you address me, son, Thomas is fine.¡±

    Thomas? He¡¯d never considered calling a master by his given name. Damien doubted he could force himself to do it. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    The headmaster shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ll work on it. As to your question, the reason we have so few students is that a sorcerer is born only rarely. In any given year only a handful of children with externally flowing soul force are born, and often fewer than half of them are powerful enough to serve as an effective sorcerer. The biggest first-year class we¡¯ve ever had was six and that was over a hundred years ago.¡±

    Damien had no idea so few sorcerers were born every year. He¡¯d thought warlords were rare, but compared to sorcerers they were common. ¡°How do you have classes with so few students?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have formal classes, not the sort you¡¯re used to. Some students learn best with a study partner, others in small groups, and still others benefit from individual instruction. That¡¯s what you¡¯ll be receiving, at least for the foreseeable future.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be receiving individual instruction, sir?¡± Were they afraid he¡¯d slow down the other students? He¡¯d never been popular back home, but he liked having comrades to train with, even if, later on, he couldn¡¯t fight at their level.

    ¡°That¡¯s right. I fear you don¡¯t realize just how tremendously powerful you are. Until you can control your power it¡¯s very possible you might accidentally hurt or kill an unskilled partner. Working one on one with a skilled teacher will give you the best chance of bringing your power under control with the minimum amount of danger to anyone else. Okay?¡±

    Damien couldn¡¯t fathom that these people thought he was powerful enough to be a danger to the other students. No one had ever considered him powerful, much less a threat. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°Any questions?¡±

    ¡°No, sir.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± The headmaster gestured and the door swung open. The boy on the bench stood up and at the little man¡¯s beckoning entered the office. ¡°Damien, this is Eli. He¡¯s another first year. You two will be roommates and Eli will help you settle in. Once he¡¯s shown you around he¡¯ll take you to Mistress Ann¡¯s training room. She¡¯s expecting you so don¡¯t dillydally.¡±

    Damien stood, bowed to the headmaster, and slung his rucksack over his shoulder. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±

    The little man nodded again. ¡°Off you go.¡±

    Damien followed Eli out of the office and the door closed behind them on its own. That would take some getting used to. The boys walked back to the entry hall.

    ¡°Sorry for staring earlier. I¡¯ve never seen soul force as dense as yours, not even the masters¡¯,¡± Eli said.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± Damien didn¡¯t know what dense soul force meant, but Eli seemed impressed. He pointed to the right-hand door. ¡°What¡¯s back there?¡±

    ¡°Meeting rooms. When the masters meet with nobles or merchants or whoever, that¡¯s where they do it. The first floor is the public portion of the tower. Everything above is for sorcerers and students only.¡±

    Eli opened the center door and behind it waited a curved staircase leading to the next floor. Damien took the steps two at a time and halfway up had to stop to let Eli catch up. The boy didn¡¯t look like he was in bad shape, but he wasn¡¯t warrior trained either. They continued up to the second-floor landing where they found yet another dark wood door. Inside was a black stone hall branching left and right. Eli went left.

    When they reached an arch he turned right down a door-lined hall. ¡°This is the students¡¯ dormitory.¡± Eli went to the third door on the right and pushed it open. ¡°Here¡¯s our room.¡±

    Damien followed his guide inside a rather plain room. Brown carpet covered the stone floor and two narrow beds sat ten feet apart. There was a footlocker for his gear and two tables and chairs. Spartan, even by Damien¡¯s standards.

    ¡°I thought my room back home was empty.¡± Damien stowed his gear, putting his sword and dagger at the bottom of the trunk and covering them with his clothes.

    ¡°We just sleep and study here, so we have all we need.¡±

    ¡°I guess. How long have you been here?¡±

    ¡°Two months. I was the third to arrive this year and everyone figured I¡¯d be the last.¡±

    ¡°What are the others like?¡±

    ¡°Amanda¡¯s the only girl and she¡¯s fierce, she wants to be an artillerist. Blowing things up with sorcery is her fondest wish. Jaden¡¯s quiet, short and round. He¡¯s decent enough as long as you¡¯re not into conversation. He likes books. In fact, he has a flawless memory for anything he reads. You¡¯ll meet everyone at dinner. Come on, I¡¯ll show you the dining hall then we can go up to Mistress Ann¡¯s room.¡±

    They left their shared room and retraced their steps back to the stairway, and down the hall the opposite way. The scent of garlic and cooking meat reached them long before they arrived at a pair of swinging double doors. They pushed through into a large open room with tables and benches in neat rows. At the far end was a counter with plates and utensils. Damien grinned. This at least was the same as back home. Even sorcerers needed a place to eat.

    They went back to the staircase and climbed up another floor. The third floor looked much like the second: halls and doors and no people. Straight across from them was a door labeled Master Stine in silver letters. Eli led the way to a door labeled Mistress Ann.

 1.6

    ¡°Can you find your way back to our room on your own?¡± Eli asked.

    Damien spared his roommate a glance. It was one floor down and two turns. He¡¯d manage. ¡°Yeah, no problem. Thanks for the tour.¡±

    Eli patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Good luck.¡±

    His guide walked back down the hall and soon disappeared around a corner. Damien adjusted his tunic and knocked. The door swung open and standing behind it was a beautiful, dark-haired woman about thirty. She had a slim, graceful figure and wore a long black dress slit on both sides up to mid-thigh. A plunging neckline revealed her considerable cleavage.

    Damien bowed. ¡°Damien St. Cloud reporting for instruction, ma¡¯am.¡±

    She laughed¡ªmore of a witchy cackle really¡ªand said, ¡°So formal. I¡¯m Ann and since we¡¯ll be spending a lot of time together you should probably relax. Come on in.¡±

    She moved aside and let him enter the small, nearly empty room. The teachers were certainly strange. They had no interest in any sort of discipline that he could see. Ann led him over to the two chairs set three feet apart that were the room¡¯s sole furnishings. She sat in one and gestured to the other.

    When Damien took his seat she said, ¡°I assume Thomas explained the school rules to you.¡±

    Damien shook his head. ¡°No, ma¡¯am, no one¡¯s explained much of anything to me beyond the fact that I¡¯m to live and train here for some time. Everything¡¯s so odd. There are no uniforms, no classes, no real structure. The headmaster wants me to call him by his first name. If any student called the Master of The Citadel by his first name he¡¯d soon be picking himself up off the floor.¡±

    Her smile held the same warmth as Master Shen¡¯s. ¡°I see. You¡¯re the first student we¡¯ve ever had that spent time at The Citadel. We¡¯re not as rigid with our training because we can¡¯t be. Every sorcerer learns their art at a different pace and in their own way. All sorcerers must find his or her own path. Our job as masters is to teach the basics, offer advice, and keep everyone from getting hurt. The last one is the most difficult. The only hard and unbreakable rule is that you¡¯re not allowed to use your powers on another student or master. Break that rule once and you get twenty lashes. Break it a second time and the punishment is banishment in the Northlands. Clear?¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. If we¡¯re not to use our powers on other students how do we practice?¡±

    ¡°Practice is different. Training in combat techniques with a master overseeing happens all the time, though not until you finish your first year of training. What I¡¯m talking about is unsupervised mischief or violence. Also your movements are restricted to The Tower grounds until you complete your training.¡±

    As rules went those two seemed fair, after all the last thing they¡¯d want is two boys fighting over a girl to blow up the dining hall. But it didn¡¯t sound like he¡¯d be visiting Jen and Lizzy anytime soon. ¡°Is there anything else?¡±

    ¡°Not really. Want to try a basic technique?¡±

    Damien¡¯s heart fluttered. To finally tap his soul force was something he¡¯d dreamed about for years. Now that it was going to happen his mouth felt dry and his hands trembled. ¡°What do I do?¡±

    ¡°Imagine a bit of your power, about the size of a grain of rice, above the palm of your hand.¡±

    Damien imagined the speck of energy flowing through his arm and out his palm. Nothing. His soul force remained as inert as ever. He slumped in his chair. It wouldn¡¯t be any different here.

    ¡°Not like that.¡±

    Damien looked up at his teacher. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to push the energy through your body. That¡¯s the way warlords use soul force. Our power can¡¯t travel through our bodies. Picture the grain of energy appearing just above your hand like it came out of nowhere.¡±

    Damien frowned, held out his hand, and imagined the power just appearing. A blinding light like a second sun burst to life above his hand. He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut.

    ¡°Douse it, douse it!¡±

    How the hell was he supposed to do that? Damien clenched his fist around the speck of energy and willed it to return to where it came from. He opened his eyes and spots danced before them. At least the light had vanished.

    Ann gaped at him.

    ¡°Sorry, ma¡¯am. What did I do wrong?¡±

    She threw back her head and laughed. ¡°Not a thing, Damien. In fact you did something amazing. You recovered your unused energy and returned it to your core. That¡¯s a rare skill. The excessive light was my fault. You used the exact right amount of energy; I failed to allow for how dense your soul force is. I need to adjust my instructions down by at least four times when I work with you.¡±

    She held out a hand and a ball of warm, golden light appeared above it. ¡°This is what I expected. I used the same amount of soul force as you, but mine is so much less dense it only makes this little light.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Damien said, though in truth he had no idea what she was talking about.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it now. Let¡¯s try something else. This is a mental trick unique to sorcerers that lets you see another¡¯s soul force.¡± She held her hands together in a circle just above her belly button. ¡°Focus here and try to look through my dress, skin, and muscle to the core of my body.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Damien stared, trying to imagine the thin black cloth parting, then the skin and muscle under it. He squinted and soon a ball of golden energy became clear. He flinched and it vanished. It seemed so different from what he sensed inside himself. His power felt roiled and agitated while hers seemed smooth and calm.

    When he pointed this out she said, ¡°Everyone¡¯s power is different. Yours will calm in time. Part of your problem is you¡¯ve been prodding it to do things it can¡¯t. Now that you¡¯re using it properly it should smooth out. With time and practice you¡¯ll be able to do more than see soul force, you¡¯ll also be able to sense it as well. Now try again.¡±

    He focused and her soul force appeared at once, smooth and serene as the surface of a pond on a calm day. Then it vanished. Damien squinted, trying to get the image to reappear.

    ¡°You can stop now. I raised my shield to block your vision. That¡¯s another trick sorcerers developed to hide their power from each other. Of course, if you see someone with no visible soul force you¡¯ll know they¡¯re a sorcerer, just not how strong. Building your shield is the final thing I¡¯ll teach you tonight. You¡¯ll want to get your power hidden before you meet the other students.¡±

    Damien nodded, remembering how Eli had stared at him when they first met. ¡°What do I do?¡±

    ¡°Take a small ball of soul force, about the size of a marble, and imagine it turning into a liquid. Once you have that, imagine the liquid covering your whole body, always a little above your skin.¡±

    Damien did what she said and soon a golden second skin covered him. ¡°Like this?¡± He couldn¡¯t be doing it right. Her shield was invisible.

    ¡°Exactly. I can¡¯t see your core anymore. Now we just need to make your personal shield a little less obvious. Focus on the shield and imagine it turning clear, like water.¡±

    Damien did as she said. The light vanished, but he could still sense his shield. It was wavering like it wanted to shatter. ¡°The power¡¯s running out.¡± He tried and failed to conceal his concern.

    ¡°That¡¯s okay. You have to do one more thing to make it sustaining. Do you sense the power flowing into your core to replace what you used?¡±

    He turned his focus inward and sensed a rushing power, like a river with no origin, flooding into the small empty space in his core. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Good. Now imagine most of that flow going to your shield instead of your core.¡±

    Damien frowned as he tried to redirect the river. He divided it into small streams and sent them out just above his skin and below the shield. He sent a stream to each of his extremities, then some to his back and chest and finally his head. With the streams in place he sent little tendrils of power into the shield and it stopped wavering. He let out a breath he didn¡¯t realize he¡¯d been holding. Sweat covered his back and neck. He¡¯d run ten miles without getting this worn out.

    Ann was staring at him again. Now what had he done? ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡±

    She gave herself a little shake. ¡°Sorry, but whatever you¡¯ve created here is far more than a simple shield to hide your core. Your body generates more soul force every minute than some sorcerers can contain in their core. With that much power running through your shield I could probably drop a boulder on you and not break your skin. It¡¯s absolutely amazing.¡±

    ¡°Thank you?¡±

    Ann smiled. ¡°I know a little about warlord training. While our powers work differently, the focus and mental discipline you¡¯ve gained through your earlier training has clearly made this transition easier for you. I¡¯ve worked with many students and no one has used their power as naturally as you. I think you¡¯ll find your training serves you well as we continue your studies.¡±

    She yawned and stretched. Damien tried to ignore her breasts straining to escape out the top of her dress. ¡°I¡¯m beat and you look all in. Let¡¯s call it a night. Come back in the morning after breakfast and we¡¯ll pick up where we left off.¡±

    Damien leapt to his feet and bowed. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. Any time in particular?¡±

    She got up and waved a hand. ¡°Whenever you get done eating is fine.¡±

    They walked together to the staircase. When they reached the landing she turned to continue up. ¡°Good night.¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°Ma¡¯am.¡± He started down the stairs to his room.

    He¡¯d only gone a couple of steps when he heard her mutter, ¡°So formal.¡±

    As he walked down stairs he reflected on what Mistress Ann had said. Maybe all the time he spent meditating and failing to move his power would turn out to be time well spent after all.

    When he reached the second-floor landing his stomach rumbled. He¡¯d completely lost track of time. Was dinner over? Damien turned toward the dining hall, hoping he hadn¡¯t missed his chance. He smelled garlic and onions, but heard nothing that suggested anyone was in the hall. He pushed the doors open and sighed. The room was empty of students. A pair of women in black-and-white servants¡¯ uniforms scrubbed the tables and a third person, a bald man as wide as he was tall and wearing a grease-stained apron, stood behind the serving counter.

    Damien put on his best smile and ambled up to the counter. ¡°Excuse me, I was late finishing my day¡¯s training and missed dinner. Is there any chance you have some leftovers?¡±

    The man scowled at him. ¡°I don¡¯t know you.¡±

    ¡°No sir, this is my first day.¡±

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re the one everyone was talking about. They seemed disappointed you weren¡¯t here.¡±

    Damien blinked, surprised anyone besides Eli was even aware he was here. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see them at breakfast. So, do you have anything? Please?¡± His stomach growled its own request.

    ¡°Just a minute.¡± He ducked back into the kitchen, grumbling all the way. Damien smiled, relieved to find at least one normal person in this place. He¡¯d feared the kingdom had gathered up all the oddballs and sent them here. The cook returned a minute later carrying a plate with a roll heaped with meat and onions. ¡°This¡¯ll have to do. There¡¯s water in the barrel down at the end of the counter.¡±

    Damien accepted the plate and bowed. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±

    He ate quickly and returned his plate and cup to the cook. He yawned and headed for his room. It had been a long, strange day and he was ready for a good night¡¯s sleep. He met no one on his walk back. Inside his room he found Eli sitting at his desk reading. His roommate glanced at him and smiled. ¡°Got your shield up I see.¡±

    Damien nodded, sat on the edge of his bed, and kicked his shoes off. ¡°Did you break into a sweat the first time you made a shield?¡±

    Eli laughed and closed his book. ¡°Are you kidding? It took me three days to get mine to work. How¡¯d you manage it in an afternoon?¡±

    Damien shrugged. ¡°I just did what she said and it worked. It was one hell of a relief, let me tell you. I¡¯ve been beating my head against the wall for a year and a half trying to get my power to move. It helps if your teacher tells you the right way to use it.¡±

    Eli snorted. ¡°I imagine it does. Everyone will be jealous of you. Not only did you get your shield to work on your first day, but you got assigned to Mistress Ann. Talk about lucky.¡±

    ¡°Lucky?¡± Damien thought he understood what the other boy meant, but wanted to be certain.

    Eli held his hands out in front of his chest. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you didn¡¯t get a good look at her. It¡¯s a wonder you could concentrate on your lesson.¡±

    Damien thought about Lizzy constantly appearing naked whenever they met. A woman with her clothes on, even one as well proportioned as Mistress Ann, wasn¡¯t enough to break his focus. ¡°She certainly wasn¡¯t what I was expecting.¡±

 1.7

    Damien woke at five. There was no window in the room he shared with Eli, but he¡¯d woken at five every day for as long as he could remember and, sunlight or not, his body knew when to get up. In the pitch-black room the only sound was Eli¡¯s deep, steady breathing. Damien slid out of bed, dressed by feel, and slipped out as quietly as he could. Outside, glow balls hanging from the ceiling in glass jars lit his path. Damien walked down to the dining room hoping to get his breakfast and get to training.

    He pushed through the swinging doors and found the hall silent and empty. He¡¯d have thought the cook would be up and started at least. Maybe he could get in a workout before breakfast. Eli hadn¡¯t shown him a gym yesterday, but they had to have something.

    Damien went down to the ground floor and out into the yard. The morning was cool and clear, the sun just turning the sky above the wall gray. It was a beautiful late spring day.

    A few guardsmen stood on the wall and Damien ran up the steps to talk to them. If anyone knew where he could find the gym it seemed like it would be the guards. He trotted up to the nearest man, a middle-aged fellow with a pot belly and salt-and-pepper beard. On closer inspection maybe he wasn¡¯t the best one to ask.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.Not wanting to be rude now that he¡¯d approached Damien said, ¡°Excuse me. Do you know if there¡¯s a gym or somewhere for the students to exercise?¡±

    The guardsman laughed. ¡°Not so far as I know, young sir. Sorcerers aren¡¯t much for exercise.¡±

    Coming from a fat guardsman that was a laughable statement. ¡°Would you guys mind if I ran the wall?¡±

    The guardsman waved his hand. ¡°Be my guest.¡±

    Damien shook his head and jogged away. He did ten circuits, about five miles give or take. The guards all stared at him in disbelief as he kept running. It was like they¡¯d never seen someone exercising before. Given their lack of conditioning Damien guessed most of them certainly hadn¡¯t run in a while.

    He stopped beside the same guardsman. ¡°What time is breakfast?¡±

    The man grumbled and glanced at the sun just peeking over the wall. ¡°Another hour at least.¡±

    Damn, they didn¡¯t get started very early here. He grabbed the lip of the wall and swung over, hanging by his fingers. He did forty pull ups, then reversed his grip so his back was to the wall and did forty more. Damien pulled himself back up on the walkway and rolled his shoulders. What was he supposed to do for another hour?

    He jogged back inside and up to the dining hall. Pots were clanging in the kitchen, so that was progress. He dropped to the floor and did some crunches. The doors squeaked and a familiar voice said, ¡°I figured I¡¯d find you here.¡±

    Damien grinned and kipped up to his feet. Standing by the door, a matching grin on his face was a boy a year older than him with long brown hair, a lean, fit build, and a chiseled, handsome face. John Kord, his oldest and best friend.

 6.45

    Lidia flew behind a demon that resembled a melted candle with eight flailing tentacles and a single central eye and blasted it before it could reel in a captured sorcerer. The bound woman flew away and Lidia got clear before a bout of hellfire blazed through the space she just vacated. The wound on the demon¡¯s back healed in a second before it flew off to find new prey.

    She was down five more sorcerers, three injured, one totally drained of soul force, and one dead. The enemy hadn¡¯t lost an individual since Lidia killed the bug-headed leader. It wasn¡¯t looking good and she couldn¡¯t think of anything to do about it. Her first thought was to simply fly away and collect reinforcements, but that would take a day at least, and by the time they returned the eastern army would be nothing but corpses. The demons that crossed over from the haunted lands had proved to be far stronger than she¡¯d ever imagined. Even the weakest one was easily a match for any four of her sorcerers.

    ¡°Archmage.¡± Zahara paused beside her. Blood dripped from a shallow wound on the outside of her left thigh. ¡°It¡¯s not looking good.¡±

    Lidia sealed Zahara¡¯s wound with a little burst of soul force. It wasn¡¯t proper healing, but at least the bleeding had stopped.

    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t. I¡¯m open to suggestions.¡±

    Zahara stared at her. That had obviously not been what she expected to hear. At this point Lidia would have listened to a good idea from one of the demons; unfortunately none of the remaining creatures appeared interested in conversation.

    ¡°What about the fortress? Can we fall back there and make a stand?¡± Zahara asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a terrible idea. Watch my back while I check on the warlords.¡±

    Lidia spun toward the pass and conjured a viewing construct. The moment it appeared she winced. The warlords had been pushed back to the western wall and were barely holding against the crystal creatures. There was no safe harbor to be found there.

    A scream rang out as a young woman was blackened by hellfire. There was no safe harbor here either. Maybe if they pooled their resources with the surviving warlords, destroy as many demons as they could before they were all killed.

    Her face twisted in a bitter grimace. That wasn¡¯t the most optimistic line of thought. Her eyes widened. Maybe there was another way.

    ¡°Zahara, contact everyone and have them join up with the warlords on the wall. Have all but five put up a defensive barrier overhead. Have the others wipe out the crystal monsters as fast as they can. You lead the attackers.¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Zahara sent a blade of soul force scything into the ribs of a twisted goblin demon. ¡°What are you going to do?¡±

    ¡°Keep an eye out for surprises. Go!¡±

    Zahara set about conjuring small message orbs. Lidia watched for demons, but most of them seemed to have realized her and Zahara were the strongest and they kept their distance. That was both a blessing and a curse. It gave her a moment to replenish her soul force, but it subjected her weaker subordinates to more attackers.

    The orbs went out to their intended recipients and in twos and threes everyone started flying backwards toward the western wall. They all gathered together and pooled their power to conjure a dense shield. Hellfire splashed off it and several of the madder demons bounced clear when they charged bodily into it.

    Below them warlords fought a desperate battle to prevent the crystal demons from either climbing up the wall or charging up one of the two staircases to reach the battlements. Lidia frowned. They were too spread out. She blasted the northern staircase, sending a handful of demons crashing to the ground. There, that would slow them a bit on that side.

    Should she blast the southern staircase as well? No, maybe the enemy commander would funnel the bulk of her forces that way, making them easier targets. That was probably wishful thinking, but they could use a bit of good luck, heaven knew they¡¯d had enough bad.

    Lidia and Zahara landed on the battlements. When the others reached the wall the shield shifted, forming a bubble that wrapped around the top of the wall to protect the warlords and surviving sorcerers from airborne attacks. So far so good. Up above the demons blasted away at the shield, but without concentrating their hellfire in a single spot it would take them a long time to burn through. Thank heaven for the demons¡¯ inability to work together. That weakness might just save all their lives.

    Explosions sounded down on the ground as Zahara and her team turned their attacks on the crystal demons. Most of the energy blasts were turned aside by the demons¡¯ crystal skin. While the rain of destruction continued Lidia scanned the area for Jennifer. She hadn¡¯t seen Damien¡¯s sister since they landed. Hopefully nothing had happened to the young woman. With Damien gone and Fredric dead she felt oddly protective of his sister.

    She felt holy energy from the area of the gatehouse. When Lidia traced it to its source she spotted a single paladin fighting with eight warlords, one of which was Jennifer. Thank heaven, she was still alive. Alive and hard pressed. A force of demons was attempting to smash their way past the warlords and out the gate. Only the narrowness of the gate kept them from being totally overwhelmed. And even with that advantage they couldn¡¯t hold out long.

    Lidia drew deep from her near-empty core and hurled a sphere of destructive energy at the massed demons. It exploded and sent them flying. The warlords seized the moment and rushed out, bashing the fallen constructs at a blinding pace. One after another they exploded.

    A warlord went down with his leg severed at the knee. The paladin dragged him back into the gatehouse. The rest paid no attention and kept pounding. Lidia flew down to lend a hand.

 1.8

    ¡°John! What¡¯s it been, three years?¡± The boys bumped fists. Damien hadn¡¯t seen his childhood friend since he started training at The Citadel and had forgotten John was supposed to be studying at The Tower. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡±

    ¡°Good, turns out I¡¯ve got a gift for healing. The old man didn¡¯t like it much, he wanted an artillerist. What about you? I thought you were going to be a warlord.¡±

    ¡°You and everyone else. Apparently the seer screwed up when I was born.¡± Damien shook his head and sat on one of the benches. ¡°A year and a half trying to use internal soul force and all the time I was a sorcerer. To say Dad wasn¡¯t thrilled would be an understatement.¡±

    ¡°I can imagine. How many generations of your family have been warlords?¡±

    ¡°Since the first colonists came over from the old empire.¡±

    John laughed at his impression of his father. ¡°Well, we can¡¯t help how we¡¯re born, can we?¡±

    ¡°Nope. Anyway, Jen can carry on the family tradition. She¡¯s a better warrior anyway.¡±

    John¡¯s expression turned wistful when Damien mentioned his sister. His friend had always had a crush on Jen. That she was completely indifferent to him made it even worse. ¡°She can¡¯t inherit the demon sword though, can she?¡±

    ¡°No, Lizzy won¡¯t work with a female partner. What¡¯s the general up to these days?¡±

    John sat across from Damien. ¡°Dad¡¯s up north, keeping an eye on the ice trolls and ogres. Some days I¡¯d swear he wants them to attack just so he¡¯ll have something to do.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Nah, he¡¯s too fond of his men to want any of them to die in some stupid war. He¡¯s just bored.¡±

    Damien got up and did a handstand followed by pushups. Between reps he said, ¡°This is a weird place, John. There¡¯s no gym, no real schedule. Mistress Ann said to just show up for training whenever I finished breakfast.¡±

    ¡°You got paired up with Ann? Lucky dog. She¡¯s the best-looking teacher in the tower.¡±

    It looked like Eli wasn¡¯t the only one with a crush on his teacher. Of course, John had a crush on most every woman he laid eyes on. Pots clanked in the kitchen and Damien rolled to his feet. ¡°So I¡¯ve heard. Who¡¯s your master?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m in a group of three studying healing with Master Jones: tall, skinny and bald.¡± John sighed. ¡°Still, he¡¯s regarded as one of the finest healers in the kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Is he by any chance in charge of making healing potions?¡±

    John nodded. ¡°Yeah, why?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to thank him. I¡¯ve drunk enough of the damn things over the last year and a half.¡±

    John laughed again though Damien found nothing funny in his broken bones. The kitchen door swung open and the cook came through carrying a steaming pot. Behind him the two women he¡¯d seen the night before followed with trays covered with bread, fruit, and jars of golden honey. Damien turned and jogged to the pile of bowls at the start of the line. His morning exercise had left him starving. The cook filled his bowl with oatmeal which Damien then topped with blueberries and honey. He added a slice of bread, collected a cup of water, and headed back to their bench. John joined him a moment later and they set to eating.

    Damien hadn¡¯t managed more than a mouthful when the doors swung open and half a dozen students poured through. John waved to one of the girls, a cute brunette, before turning back to his meal. Damien raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Marie¡¯s in my healing group. She¡¯s a third year. Nice girl, but kind of shy.¡±

    Damien had eaten half his food before the door squeaked again. He looked up to see Eli leading two others into the hall. There was a girl with flaming red hair and a tiny build and a stout boy with sandy hair and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Those two had to be the other first years. Eli waved and Damien returned the gesture.

    ¡°Friends of yours?¡± John asked.

    ¡°My roommate and the other first years. Eli said he¡¯d introduce me today. Have you met them?¡±

    ¡°John!¡± The redhead leapt at his friend and wrapped her arms around his neck. ¡°How¡¯s my sweetie pie this morning?¡±

    John grimaced and disentangled himself from the girl. ¡°I¡¯m not your sweetie pie.¡±

    Eli set a bowl down in front of the girl. ¡°Amanda, behave yourself. You know John doesn¡¯t like it when you do that.¡±

    She stuck her tongue out at Eli. ¡°I¡¯m going to marry him, just wait and see.¡±

    The blond boy with the freckles sat beside Damien across from Amanda. He held out a hand and Damien shook it. ¡°Jaden Orn, my dad¡¯s the cook.¡±

    Damien nodded. The family resemblance was obvious. ¡°Damien St. Cloud. It must be nice to have your family so close.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°We¡¯re both real busy, but at least I can sleep in my own bed.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Amanda leaned across the table so her face was only inches from Damien¡¯s. ¡°I want to see your soul force. Eli said it was really strong. Show me.¡±

    Eli grabbed the back of Amanda¡¯s tunic and yanked her into her seat. ¡°That¡¯s so rude. You¡¯re not supposed to ask people to show you their soul force. I¡¯m sorry, Damien.¡±

    Damien shrugged. He didn¡¯t realize it was rude to ask, so it never occurred to him to be offended. He turned his focus inward and found his shield and the flows sustaining it working just like he left them the night before. Truth was he didn¡¯t know how to lower his shield without removing it completely and he didn¡¯t want to do that since putting it up was such a chore. He said as much to Amanda.

    ¡°It¡¯s not fair.¡± Amanda glared at Eli. ¡°You got to see it. How come I don¡¯t get to?¡±

    Eli looked pained as he tried to think of an explanation.

    ¡°I¡¯ll show you as soon as Mistress Ann teaches me how to open a hole in the shield. Okay?¡±

    She whipped around to focus on him. ¡°Promise?¡±

    Damien nodded.

    Amanda grinned. ¡°I like you. We¡¯re going to be friends.¡±

    Without giving him a chance to respond she darted across the table and kissed him square on the lips. Too stunned to speak, Damien stared at the odd girl. Who kisses someone they just met on the lips?

    ¡°There.¡± She nodded, seeming satisfied. ¡°Now it¡¯s official, we¡¯re friends.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Eli put a hand over his face and sighed. Damien finished his breakfast before anything else strange happened. Which, considering what he¡¯d seen so far in this place, was a small miracle.

    He was about to get up and take his dishes to the counter when the door opened again and a blond giant walked in flanked by two smaller, but still huge boys. The blond boy had to be over six feet tall with broad shoulders and thick legs. Damien had seen a picture of an ogre once in one of his father¡¯s books, and this boy wasn¡¯t much smaller.

    ¡°That¡¯s Sigurd Iceborn,¡± Eli said. ¡°His father¡¯s the duke of the northern territory. He¡¯s very proud, so watch what you say to him.¡±

    Damien shot a look at John who shook his head. ¡°Sig¡¯s an ass, just like his father. Dad says it¡¯s a wonder they have any snow up north considering the amount of hot air the duke blows.¡±

    Eli winced at John¡¯s lack of tact and Amanda laughed. The shrill noise caught Sig¡¯s attention and he angled away from the counter and toward their table, his companions flanking him. A slender dark-haired boy started to get up, but Sig shoved him back into his seat.

    Damien tensed. He knew this type.

    Sig stopped a few feet from their table, hands on his hips, looming over them. The dining hall fell silent. The giant Northman turned his ice-blue eyes on Amanda. ¡°Something funny, first year?¡±

    ¡°John told us a joke.¡±

    Sig turned his gaze on John and his lips twisted. He couldn¡¯t count on his rank helping him with John, whose father, the general, was equal in rank to the duke. Technically Damien¡¯s father, as King¡¯s Champion, outranked both the duke and the general, but it didn¡¯t filter down to Damien.

    ¡°John.¡± Sig inclined his head a fraction, acknowledging John as his equal, but clearly resenting it.

    John returned the gesture. ¡°Sig.¡±

    No love lost between those two. Sig shifted his gaze again and Damien found himself under the nobleman¡¯s intense glare. ¡°You must be the new guy. You don¡¯t look like much. Rumor is you¡¯ve got strong soul force, but I doubt you¡¯re anything special.¡±

    Damien shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s your opinion.¡±

    The minion on the left stepped closer to Damien. ¡°Mind your manners when you speak to Master Sigurd.¡±

    Damien stood up. These weren¡¯t warlords he had to run from. They were just boys. Arrogant boys who thought they could push around anyone they wanted. Well, Damien had gotten pushed around enough. He¡¯d be damned if he let a new batch of bullies pick up where the last bunch left off.

    He took a step closer, so he was nose to chin with the older boy. ¡°Or what?¡±

    The minion glanced at his master and Sig nodded. The boy grabbed Damien¡¯s tunic with his left hand and reared back with his right.

    Damien crouched, tucked his chin, and leapt up, driving the top of his head into the bully¡¯s nose.

    Cartilage crunched and blood gushed.

    The boy¡¯s grip on Damien broke and he clasped both hands to his face, trying to stop the flow of blood.

    Minion number two rushed toward Damien, intent on avenging his bleeding comrade. He stopped, planted his front foot and threw a punch at Damien¡¯s face.

    Damien slipped past the clumsy blow and kicked the boy in the side of his locked knee. Another crunch echoed through the silent hall and the second henchman fell to the floor howling and clutching his busted knee.

    Damien looked at Sig and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Well?¡±

    The muscles in Sig¡¯s jaw worked as he glared at Damien. Finally he said, ¡°Pity you¡¯re only a first year. If you had a little more experience we could have a proper duel and I¡¯d show you your place.¡±

    Damien shrugged. ¡°There are other sorts of duels. Hand fighting, swords, bows. Name your weapon and I¡¯ll accept the challenge.¡±

    Sig threw back his head and laughed. ¡°You¡¯d dare take me on with a blade? I was trained by the finest sword master in the north. A runt like you wouldn¡¯t last ten seconds against me.¡±

    Damien smiled. ¡°You choose swords then?¡±

    Sig stared at him. ¡°Did you not hear what I said?¡±

    ¡°All I hear is a lot of noise. If you don¡¯t have the guts to back up your big talk, get lost. I¡¯ve got to get to class.¡±

    ¡°Fine, swords. Where and when?¡±

    John got up and stepped between them. ¡°If you two are serious about this I know a master that specializes in creating soul force weapons. The blades only interact with each other, they won¡¯t cut flesh. I doubt either of your fathers would be happy if you killed each other. I¡¯ll speak to him and if he agrees, tomorrow at noon in the arena. Sound good?¡±

    Damien nodded, not in the least concerned about Sig¡¯s skill. ¡°Works for me.¡±

    ¡°Fine. Tomorrow at noon I¡¯ll crush you in front of the whole school.¡± Sig spun and snarled at his bleeding companions. ¡°Get yourselves to the healers.¡±

    Damien watched the three of them walk, and in one case limp, out of the dining hall without bothering to get something to eat. ¡°Charming fellow.¡±

    ¡°I see you¡¯ve inherited your father¡¯s tolerance for fools,¡± John said. ¡°Did you really have to pick a fight your second day here?¡±

    All around them conversation picked up. Damien suspected he was the main subject. ¡°Technically I got here yesterday afternoon, so this is still my first day.¡±

    ¡°You know what I mean.¡±

    ¡°Sure. Let me know what the master says?¡±

    ¡°You bet.¡± They bumped fists and John left to handle the details.

    Whatever he said, Damien felt certain John would persuade whoever he needed to in order to make the fight happen. Damien grinned. He hadn¡¯t fought a normal person in a couple of years. Tomorrow promised to be fun.

    ¡°Are you crazy?¡± Eli stared at him, his face pale.

    ¡°No, why?¡±

    ¡°Why? You just picked a fight with the biggest kid in the school and the son of a duke at that. He¡¯ll kill you.¡±

    ¡°You think? John said the soul force weapons wouldn¡¯t cut flesh.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¨C¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t pay any attention to him.¡± Amanda talked over Eli. She swung her tiny fists around, barely missing giving Eli a black eye. ¡°That was amazing the way you took those two down. I bet you can beat Sig with one hand tied behind your back.¡±

    Damien smiled. ¡°Thanks for the vote of confidence. I need to get to class.¡±

    He left the dining hall and made his way to Mistress Ann¡¯s training room. He knocked on the door and it opened on its own. His teacher sat in the same chair as the day before, wearing a similar dress only in red instead of black.

    Damien bowed. ¡°Ma¡¯am.¡±

    She smiled and waved him over to the empty chair. ¡°You¡¯re an early riser. I saw you running the wall this morning. That sort of thing isn¡¯t required here.¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am, but at some point I assume I¡¯ll return home and if I show up at The Citadel out of shape I¡¯ll never hear the end of it.¡± He sat and faced her.

    ¡°You¡¯re the first boy I¡¯ve taught who focused above my neck and not below. Do you not think I¡¯m pretty?¡±

    Damien coughed, trying to cover his discomfort. What kind of question was that for a teacher to ask a student? He wasn¡¯t sure how to answer her. ¡°You¡¯re very pretty, ma¡¯am, but my girlfriend wouldn¡¯t appreciate me ogling another girl.¡±

    ¡°You have a girlfriend, how sweet. Back at The Citadel?¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s she like?¡± She leaned forward, her cleavage once more threatening to spill out of her dress.

    How did one describe a demon soul bound to a sword that you could only interact with on a mental level? Damien had never really thought about it. He¡¯d loved Lizzy for as long as he could remember. ¡°She¡¯s beautiful, sharp, with a wicked sense of humor. She doesn¡¯t always get along with Dad though.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s nice. Okay, I see your shield is holding. Let¡¯s try the trick with the light again. Remember, a quarter of a grain of rice.¡±

    Damien did as she said and this time the light didn¡¯t blind them. He grinned. He could do this.

    ¡°That¡¯s excellent, Damien. Now let¡¯s try a simple soul force construct. You understand what I mean by that, right?¡±

    ¡°Like Master Shen¡¯s griffin?¡±

    ¡°Exactly, though we¡¯ll try for something a little simpler. Watch me.¡±

    Damien focused like she¡¯d taught him and watched her form a blob of golden energy into the crude likeness of a cat. It landed on the floor and ran around the training room, jumping and batting the air with its paws.

    ¡°Now you try.¡±

    ¡°Do you want a cat?¡±

    She waved her hand. ¡°Whatever you want, just not too big.¡±

    Damien took his own blob of energy and formed it into a four-legged shape with a muzzle and tail. When he finished, the golden dog towered over the little cat, its head barely missing the ceiling. He winced. ¡°Too big?¡±

    ¡°A little. Try compressing it. Don¡¯t take any energy away, just squish it down smaller.¡±

    Damien concentrated and the dog shrank, but glowed brighter. ¡°Like that?¡±

    She smiled and nodded. ¡°Amazing. Well done.¡±

    They spent the rest of the day trying different shapes, sometimes having them battle and chase each other around the room. A few times he lost control and his construct ran into the wall and bounced off. He understood now why the room held minimal furnishings; anything other than stone would probably end up smashed to bits. When Mistress Ann called a halt to the training Damien felt like he¡¯d spent a day in the field digging trenches. ¡°That¡¯s harder than it looks.¡±

    ¡°You did well and the more you practice the easier it gets. Your homework is to make the little light until you can conjure it without having to think through each step. Any questions?¡±

    ¡°Do you know a sorcerer who specializes in making soul force weapons?¡±

    She frowned. That was apparently not the question she expected. ¡°Yes, his name¡¯s Sagan. Why?¡±

    Damien told her about the duel and John making the arrangements. ¡°I just wondered if he¡¯d be a fair judge of the contest.¡±

    ¡°Sagan¡¯s an honorable man, you need not fear on that score. What were you thinking, challenging that brute to a duel?¡±

    ¡°I was thinking I was sick of people pushing me around. I hope this will nip it in the bud.¡±

    She nodded, her face troubled. ¡°If Sagan agrees you¡¯ll need a master to serve as your second. I¡¯d be happy to stand beside you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like that, Ann.¡±

 1.9

    Someone jostled John from behind as he tried to make his way down the stone steps. Eli had gone early to grab their little group seats above the south entrance where Damien planned to enter. Everyone else should be there already, but he¡¯d stopped to buy a bag of glazed walnuts on his way and was running behind. The sun shone bright in a clear sky. All in all it was a lovely day to make some easy money.

    The excited chatter of students and sorcerers entering the stands filled the air. The main topic of conversation seemed to be how fast Sig would crush Damien. John grinned. Man, were they in for a surprise. None more so than the kids who¡¯d been taking bets for the last day. When he¡¯d bet his and Damien¡¯s money he¡¯d gotten five-to-one odds and the sixteen-year-old oddsmaker had almost hugged him when he proved willing to take the other side of the wager. He¡¯d be considerably less thrilled in a few minutes.

    John dodged a chubby third year and finally reached Eli and the others. They¡¯d gotten seats directly above the doors, perfect. Amanda smiled as he approached and patted the leather seat between her and Eli. John sighed. Maybe not perfect. The moment he sat, a tiny hand shot in and snatched some walnuts.

    ¡°If you weren¡¯t so cheap you could get your own.¡±

    She popped the sweet treat into her mouth and ignored him. He shook his head and ate a few before she stole them all.

    ¡°Did you make a bet?¡± Eli asked.

    He swallowed his snack. ¡°Yeah, a hundred royals on Damien, got five to one against. I¡¯m going to clean up.¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Eli stared at him. ¡°You bet on Damien?¡±

    John smiled at his incredulous tone. He clearly had no idea what Damien could do with a sword. ¡°You didn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°I put five on Sig.¡±

    John turned to Amanda. ¡°What about you?¡±

    ¡°Ten on Sig.¡± She snitched another walnut.

    ¡°What about all your cheering for Damien and telling him how great it was that he beat up those two thugs?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Cheering¡¯s one thing, money¡¯s another. I¡¯ll cheer my lungs out for Damien, but Sig¡¯s huge.¡±

    John looked across Eli at Jaden. ¡°How about you?¡±

    Jaden shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t have any spare money for gambling.¡±

    John grinned. That was a nice way of saying he didn¡¯t want to bet against Damien. Jaden would be feeling better about that decision soon.

    ¡°Damien St. Cloud!¡± The announcer¡¯s voice, amplified with soul force, echoed through the arena. Time for the fun to begin.

    When Damien and Ann entered John and the first years cheered. Damien looked bored and Ann looked stunning. Where did she get those outfits? It was going to be hard to concentrate on the match and not stare at her. Damien spoke with Master Sagan for a moment.

    ¡°Sigurd Iceborn!¡± the announcer said.

    Sig entered from the far doors, his chest bare, and a pretty, pale master a step behind. No surprise Sig would choose Mistress Ingrid as his second, she was the only master from the northern duchy at the tower. She was cute, but nowhere near as beautiful as Ann. Judging by the little frown on her otherwise expressionless face she¡¯d rather be just about anywhere else. But when the son of your duke asks you to be his second you couldn¡¯t exactly refuse.

    Beside him Amanda shook her head. ¡°Look at the size of him. I¡¯m afraid you threw your money away.¡±

    ¡°Want to make a side bet?¡± John asked.

    She narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°What kind of bet?¡±

    ¡°If Damien wins you don¡¯t hug me anymore and if Sig wins I¡¯ll give you a kiss.¡±

    She blushed then frowned. ¡°You really think he¡¯s going to win?¡±

    ¡°I know he will.¡±

 1.10

    The sun was high overhead as students and sorcerers made their way to the arena. The founder of Sorcery had shaped the arena out of a single huge chunk of granite. It was amazing. He¡¯d cut it out of a mountain then ten sorcerers combined their power to bring it back here where he carved it out over four days. Damien couldn¡¯t imagine someone having that much control.

    Word had quickly spread about Damien¡¯s duel with Sig. John told him over breakfast that he was a huge underdog. Damien had given his life savings, twenty-three gold royals, to his friend to bet on him. If the odds against him were as bad as John said he stood to make a nice bit of coin.

    Damien stretched and bounced in place, trying to get his blood pumping and his muscles loose. He wore a simple black tunic and pants, the same set he¡¯d worn the day before in fact. According to John, Master Sagan¡¯s weapons were harmless unless he wished it otherwise so protective gear was unnecessary.

    ¡°Are you sure you want to go through with this?¡± Ann stood beside him just outside the south entrance to the arena. Instead of her usual dress she wore tight black pants and a red silk top. She¡¯d informed him that red and black were the proper colors for this sort of occasion.

    ¡°Yup. Watch this.¡± He made the little light appear in front of him without even raising his hand then drew the power back in. ¡°Not bad, huh?¡±

    ¡°How can you be so calm? He¡¯s three times your size.¡±

    Damien shrugged. ¡°Size doesn¡¯t mean much in a sword fight. It just makes him a bigger target.¡±

    A roar went up from the crowd and a much amplified voice said, ¡°Damien St. Cloud!¡±

    Damien grinned. ¡°Shall we?¡±

    Damien went first and Ann followed a step behind and to his right. The tall double doors opened at their approach and the roar of the crowd washed over Damien. One hundred and seventy-five sorcerers and students filled the seats. In the sand at the center of the arena floor a grizzled old man with a scruffy beard and missing left hand waited, Master Sagan, Damien assumed.

    He bowed to the master. ¡°Thank you for doing this, sir.¡±

    Master Sagan shook his head. ¡°Boy, I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯re brave or stupid. I know the man that trained Sig and he¡¯s one of the best in the kingdom.¡±

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.¡°Really? The man who trained me claims to be one of the best as well. This should be a good match.¡±

    ¡°And who might that be?¡±

    Before Damien could answer the announcer said, ¡°Sigurd Iceborn!¡±

    The doors on the opposite end of the arena opened and Sig entered, his chest bare to show off his muscles. He had plenty of them, Damien wouldn¡¯t deny that. Lucky for him they weren¡¯t having a wrestling match. The crowd cheered even louder, telling Damien everything he needed to know about how they¡¯d bet. Behind Sig a master Damien didn¡¯t know, a woman with pale skin and hair so blond it almost looked white, regarded the whole scene with bored, half-closed eyes.

    He turned to Ann. ¡°Did you bet on me?¡±

    She looked away. ¡°I don¡¯t like to gamble.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a no.¡±

    Sig reached the center of the arena and stopped a couple of paces from Damien, a grin plastered across his pale face. ¡°Well you had the guts to show, I¡¯ll give you that.¡±

    ¡°I was about to say the same thing.¡±

    Sig¡¯s grin turned to a snarl. ¡°I¡¯m going to crush you, you little speck.¡±

    Damien nodded, not at all impressed.

    Master Sagan raised his hands and the arena fell silent. ¡°Here are the rules. I¡¯ll provide the weapons. Any hit I deem fatal will count as a point. Three points wins. Clear?¡±

    They both nodded and Master Sagan turned to Damien. ¡°What¡¯s your weapon?¡±

    ¡°Dai Chi long sword.¡±

    Master Sagan blinked, seemingly surprised by the choice of such an exotic weapon. He recovered quickly and a long, thin, straight blade appeared in front of Damien. It looked exactly like Lizzy, right down to the sharkskin wrapping on the hilt. He grasped the hilt and swished it around a couple times like a kid with a stick playing knight. The weight and balance were perfect. When did Master Sagan get a chance to see Lizzy? He¡¯d have to ask after the match.

    Seeing him swing the sword Master Sagan whispered, ¡°Do you know how to use that weapon?¡±

    Damien held up the sword and gave it a close look. ¡°I believe so.¡±

    Sig laughed and Master Sagan shook his head. He turned to Sig. ¡°Weapon?¡±

    ¡°Claymore.¡±

    A four-foot blade a hand wide with a two-handed grip appeared in front of Sig. He grasped it, whirled it around over his head and roared to the crowd. They cheered and he waved like he¡¯d already won the match. Damien smiled at the display. Sig was so overconfident he could probably win using his off hand.

    ¡°Take your positions.¡±

    Damien stood four feet from Sig, his sword in front of him, wrist cocked. Sig took a wide stance, sword raised at middle guard.

    ¡°Begin!¡±

    Sig flinched back to begin his swing. The instant he moved Damien lunged, burying a foot of illusory steel in Sig¡¯s throat.

    The arena fell silent. Damien recovered and returned to his position. He glanced at Master Sagan and raised an eyebrow. The old man shook himself and said, ¡°First point to Damien.¡±

    Damien smiled. ¡°See, nothing to it. I didn¡¯t get a chance to answer you earlier. My father trained me. His name is Fredric St. Cloud. You probably know him better as Fredric the Lightning, King¡¯s Champion and Master of The Citadel. You guys must have met at some point. The sword you created for me is an exact replica of the demon sword he carries.¡±

    Master Sagan stared at him, Sig stared at him, and it seemed everyone in the crowd was staring at him. Guess they really hadn¡¯t thought he had a chance.

    He faced Sig and resumed his stance. ¡°Ready when you are.¡±

 1.11

    John rubbed his hands together, eager for the match to start. Down on the sand Master Sagan conjured a long thin sword for Damien. It looked just like his father¡¯s demon sword. Did Master Sagan know or was it just a coincidence? Damien swished it back and forth, playing around. Beside him Eli groaned.

    Sig got his weapon and roared for the crowd. They took their positions. ¡°Begin!¡± Master Sagan said.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!John blinked and Damien¡¯s sword was in Sig¡¯s neck. Stunned silence surrounded him. Students and sorcerers gaped at Damien¡¯s speed. From the intense look on several of their faces he suspected they were trying to figure out how Damien used his soul force without them noticing.

    Amanda grabbed his sleeve and tugged. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Damien won the first point.¡±

    ¡°I barely saw him move then it was over.¡±

    John nodded. He¡¯d dueled Damien once when they were little. He was nine and Damien eight, and he hadn¡¯t fared any better than Sig. If the match lasted another full minute he¡¯d be shocked.

 1.12

    ¡°Luck won¡¯t save you this time.¡± Sig raised his blade so the hilt was near his right ear and the point aimed at Damien¡¯s chest. Why didn¡¯t he just put a sign around his neck saying he was going to thrust the instant Master Sagan gave the signal?

    ¡°Begin!¡±

    Sig thrust, just as Damien expected. He spun and parried, pushing the huge blade to the left. Sig staggered past and Damien slashed him across the back of the neck.

    ¡°Second point to Damien.¡±

    Sig regained his balance, spun and snarled at Damien. Such a scary face. Damien smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t imagine this is how you expected our match to go.¡±

    ¡°My master said I was his finest student, the best in the Northlands. I can¡¯t lose to a skinny runt like you.¡±

    ¡°Did your father pay him to train you?¡±

    Sig¡¯s snarl turned to a look of confusion. ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t think his continued employment might have depended on him telling you and the duke what you wanted to hear?¡±

    ¡°He lied to me?¡±

    ¡°Either that or the Northlands are in serious trouble the next time the Ice Queen sends her army south.¡±

    ¡°No! I will beat you.¡± Sig took his stance, sword held in a two-handed grip on his right side. This one was a little harder to read at least.

    Damien raised his sword and nodded once.

    ¡°Begin!¡±

    Sig roared and swung his blade in a horizontal slash that would have cut Damien in two if the blade was real. Damien leapt straight into the air, pulling his legs up tight. The sword passed under him with inches to spare. He landed and thrust his weapon through the side of Sig¡¯s head.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Match to Damien.¡±

    And that was that. He tossed his fake sword to Master Sagan who let it fade away. ¡°Thanks for overseeing the match, Master.¡±

    Master Sagan inclined his head. ¡°An impressive performance, young man. Your father would be proud.¡±

    Damien smiled. His father would be disgusted that he¡¯d wasted his time fighting someone as unskilled as Sig in the first place. He could hear Dad now. Find someone worth your effort. Getting praise for defeating that boy is worthless.

    The crowd stood, getting ready to leave the arena and cry over their lost money. How much would he and John collect for his trouble? Damien started for the doors.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Sig faced him, his face red and furious. ¡°This isn¡¯t over. I¡¯ll pound you with my bare hands. Your tricks won¡¯t help you then.¡±

    A murmur ran through the crowd and they turned back to the arena.

    ¡°You fought a fair duel and lost,¡± Master Sagan said. ¡°Don¡¯t dishonor yourself with this tantrum.¡±

    ¡°Stay out of this, old man. I¡¯m going to teach this snot you can¡¯t insult the heir to the North and get away with it.¡±

    Sig ran toward him, arms out wide. It appeared he planned to crush Damien like a great bear.

    Damien waited, perfectly at ease, until the last second when he dodged left, grabbed Sig¡¯s outstretched arm and dropped his full bodyweight to the sand. He dragged Sig down with him, twisted his arm and wrenched it up, stretching the shoulder joint just short of dislocation.

    He planted his knee in his opponent¡¯s back. Under him Sig groaned.

    ¡°It¡¯s not fair,¡± the giant boy whimpered. ¡°I¡¯m the strongest.¡±

    ¡°Strongest?¡± Damien stood up and pulled his tunic off. A gasp from behind him said Ann saw the scars crisscrossing his back from his failure to master iron skin. His chest sported a matching set. ¡°You dare claim to be strong yet you haven¡¯t got a single scar. Your master didn¡¯t train you, he let you play with a sword and told you you were a soldier. We¡¯re done here. Leave me and my friends alone or so help me I¡¯ll send you to the healer for a month.¡±

    Sig buried his face in the sand and his body shook. Damien slipped his tunic back on and walked away. The last thing he wanted was to sit and listen to the boy cry.

    Ann came over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. ¡°Are you okay? Your back¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine and the scars are old.¡± He looked at his feet, embarrassed that he¡¯d lost control. ¡°Thanks for standing with me.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t need much help. I feared I might have to carry you out of the arena.¡±

    Damien smiled and held out his arm. ¡°Your confidence in my skills warms my heart.¡±

    She linked arms with him and they walked out of the arena together.

 1.13

    Damien sat on the edge of his bed holding his sister¡¯s letter and read it again. He¡¯d been studying at The Tower for a little over three years and would be taking his final exam in an hour. Ann said she had no doubt he¡¯d pass with flying colors and have all his restrictions removed. That would be nice since Jen wanted him to come home for the summer solstice the day after tomorrow and celebrate with her and Dad. Unless the masters removed his restrictions he wouldn¡¯t be allowed to leave the tower.

    He grimaced and tossed the parchment on his desk. It would be great to see Jen and Lizzy again, but he didn¡¯t know what sort of reception to expect from Dad. Maybe it wouldn¡¯t be too bad. Now that there was no chance of him becoming a warlord there¡¯d be no pressure on either of them. They could just be father and son rather than master and student.

    A quick pace around his little room did nothing to relieve his anxiety. He stopped in front of his footlocker, dug out a pair of thin leather gloves, tossed his tunic on the bed so it wouldn¡¯t get sweaty, and pulled on the gloves. A pair of curved sabers appeared in the air in front of him. Damien grasped the hilts and ran through some basic forms. He¡¯d discovered after his duel with Sig that if he wore gloves he could grip weapons he conjured himself, as long as they didn¡¯t actually touch his skin.

    He leapt, spun, and twisted, swirling the blades around his body. Lost in the movements, his worries fled to the back of his mind and vanished, at least for a few minutes. A thin sheen of sweat soon covered his chest. Though he¡¯d never be fast enough to stand toe to toe with a warlord, Damien felt pleased that he¡¯d maintained his form for three years without a sparring partner.

    After a couple of minutes he stopped and blew out a breath. ¡°Enjoying the show?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d noticed me.¡± Ann pushed the door the rest of the way open and sauntered in. She wore one of her typically snug, low-cut dresses. ¡°With everything a sorcerer can do, why do you insist on using those swords?¡±

    Damien reabsorbed the energy in the blades, stripped off his gloves, and dug a towel out of his trunk. Why did he keep using swords? With what he¡¯d learned the last few years he could destroy a small army with a thought, but somehow the sword still called to him. ¡°I guess it¡¯s the discipline. To be a good swordsman you need perfect focus and balance. When I do forms it drives out all other thoughts.¡±

    He finished drying off and reached for his tunic. It jumped out of his hand. He looked up at Ann, who smiled. ¡°No need to put that back on so soon.¡±

    Damien shook his head. He¡¯d have to introduce Ann to Lizzy, they were a lot alike. With a thought he formed a bubble around his tunic and severed whatever thread of energy she¡¯d attached to it. He pulled it back to his side of the bed and threw it on.

    She stuck out her bottom lip. ¡°You never let me have any fun.¡±

    ¡°Staring at your students without their shirts on might get you into trouble.¡±

    She looked around. ¡°There¡¯s no one here but us. Are you going to turn me in?¡±

    Damien grinned. He thought of Ann as an older sister; a somewhat perverted, often inappropriate older sister. He¡¯d never do anything to get her in trouble and would happily cut the throat of anyone that did. ¡°Of course not. Should we head up? Eli¡¯s probably just getting started.¡±

    She heaved a dramatic sigh. ¡°I suppose, if you¡¯re not going to leave your shirt off so I can enjoy the view, we might as well.¡±

    They left Damien¡¯s room and headed for the stairwell. It was fifteen floors up to the testing chamber. Damien could have jogged up easily enough, but Ann wouldn¡¯t appreciate it, especially since she wore her ridiculous four-inch heels. ¡°Want me to handle transportation?¡±

    ¡°Save your strength for the test.¡±

    Damien raised an eyebrow at that. He could replenish any power he used carrying them up in seconds and she had to know that by now. ¡°Is it that bad?¡±

    She turned serious for the first time. ¡°No, it¡¯s not bad, exactly, just challenging. I know you can handle it. You¡¯re the most gifted student I¡¯ve ever trained and your power still terrifies me a little.¡±

    She conjured a little basket around them and it lifted them up one floor after another, until they reached the fifteenth-floor landing. The basket vanished and Damien opened the door for her. Beyond the door waited a short, black-stone hall. No silver broke the dark surface of the tiles. A little shiver ran through him. The atmosphere gave him chills.

    At the end of the hall a black door marked with a rune of forbiddance blocked their path. Except on test days, no one but the high sorcerers entered the chamber. A few feet from the door, as though to lift some of the foreboding a student must feel on his approach to the testing chamber, rested a pair of perfectly ordinary leather chairs.

    Ann sat in one, but Damien was too anxious to sit down. He paced the short hall, eager to get on with it. After his tenth trip back and forth Ann said, ¡°Will you please sit down? You¡¯re making me nervous.¡±

    He sat beside her and patted her knee. ¡°Sorry. I don¡¯t do well with waiting.¡±

    ¡°I see that. Have you heard from your friend?¡±

    ¡°Not since he left this spring.¡± John had passed his tests and gone north to apprentice to the master healer in the northern army. He¡¯d also be stationed close to his father, which might be good or bad depending on the general¡¯s mood. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s fine. John has a knack for getting along with people. So, how does one go about becoming a high sorcerer?¡±Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°It¡¯s simple enough. Every ten years all the sorcerers in the kingdom come to The Tower for the gathering. Any full sorcerer interested in the job can stand for high sorcerer. We then hold a vote and the five with the most votes become high sorcerers for ten years.¡±

    ¡°I thought there were only four high sorcerers?¡±

    ¡°We select five then they chose amongst themselves who to promote to archmage. The archmage heads to the capital to advise the king on supernatural matters and oversee the Crimson Legion, the sorcerers in charge of protecting the king. There¡¯s a lot of politics involved and most sorcerers aren¡¯t interested in the job. That¡¯s why Lidia has held the post of archmage for the past sixteen years.¡±

    The black door creaked and swung open. Damien leapt to his feet a moment before a slumped-over Eli walked through. He looked up at Damien and shook his head. He¡¯d failed. Damien clapped him on the back as he headed for the stairs. Eli was a solid sorcerer, and even if he failed this time he could try again in six months and pass it for sure.

    ¡°Damien St. Cloud.¡± A disembodied voice spoke from inside the testing chamber. ¡°It¡¯s time.¡±

    He glanced at Ann, who shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re on your own. I¡¯ll be here when you finish.¡±

    Damien entered the dark chamber and walked to a circle of light in the center of the room. Looming over him, one at each of the four cardinal directions sat the four high sorcerers. Three women and one man, all older than Ann, but not by as much as he¡¯d expected. He put them all in their late forties or early fifties.

    He bowed to each in turn then clasped his hands behind his back and waited. He didn¡¯t have to wait long.

    ¡°Mistress Ann has recommended you for the final examination,¡± the Master of the South said. ¡°Do you feel you are ready?¡±

    Damien faced the master. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± the Mistress of the East said, her voice almost as deep as the master¡¯s. ¡°You must demonstrate competence in four of the six primary skills. Where do you wish to begin?¡±

    ¡°Shielding.¡± Protection and attack were Damien¡¯s strongest skills so he planned to start there and make a good first impression.

    ¡°Form your shield and we will attack. Resist as long as you can,¡± the Master of the South said.

    Damien conjured a golden globe around himself, wasting neither time nor energy to make it invisible. He spent a quarter of his power on it and felt certain it would hold against anything but a full-power assault. Energy blasts from each master struck his shield in succession.

    Their attacks didn¡¯t even cause it to flex. So far so good.

    Next they attacked it together. Dents formed, but the shield held.

    Damien let out a breath. A moment later a golden giant appeared, a club in its hand. It swung down at him and an instant before it struck he reinforced the top of the sphere. The club skipped off without breaking through.

    ¡°Well done,¡± the Mistress of the North said. ¡°You pass the first test.¡±

    Damien reabsorbed the shield energy remaining and diverted some of the power from his personal shield to restoring his core. It wouldn¡¯t take long for his power to replenish.

    Damien passed attack easily, hitting multiple moving targets and shattering every shield they conjured. Detection was harder, but he found the poison in every sample they brought and neutralized it. He was almost through. Sweat stained his tunic and stuck it to his back.

    ¡°Next?¡± the Mistress of the North asked.

    ¡°Shaping.¡± Damien took a few deep breaths to steady himself and a chunk of stone floated down from somewhere in the darkened recesses above him. ¡°What do you wish me to make?¡±

    ¡°Whatever you like,¡± the Mistress of the East said. ¡°Impress us.¡±

    Damien studied the stone, both with his eyes and his soul force. It was taller than it was wide and a couple of fissures ran through it. If he hit those wrong the rock would crumble and he¡¯d fail the test. Luckily for him both flaws ran along the edge of the stone so he could use most of it. When he had the image of what he wanted firmly in mind he sent out streams of soul force and carved.

    He had no sense of time as he worked, his focus on the task absolute. When he finally finished, a statue of a nude, winged female sat on the floor. The face was a little crude and the feathers on the wings could have used more texture, but overall it was a pretty good likeness of Lizzy.

    Around him the masters applauded. ¡°The finest example of shaping we¡¯ve seen from a candidate in many years. That¡¯s four passed out of six,¡± the Master of the South said. ¡°Congratulations, you¡¯ve passed your final test.¡±

    The master looked at the three women and each nodded. He continued. ¡°We remove all restrictions from you. You are now free to use your powers at your discretion. Finally, you¡¯ll need to find an experienced sorcerer to mentor you for two years of field work before you¡¯ll get missions of your own. Well done.¡±

    The door behind him opened, he bowed to each of the masters, and left. Ann stood beside her chair, a worried frown on her face. Damien grinned and she smiled. ¡°You passed?¡±

    ¡°Sure did. All credit to my teacher. How long was I in there?¡±

    ¡°Three hours. I was afraid they¡¯d killed you for a little while.¡± They went back downstairs in her basket. As they descended Ann asked, ¡°What will you do now?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going home for a visit. Jen invited me for the Solstice festival and I¡¯m eager to see her and Lizzy.¡±

    She leered at him. ¡°You¡¯re not afraid your lover has moved on in three years?¡±

    Damien had never told Ann that Lizzy was a spirit bound in his father¡¯s sword and he didn¡¯t feel the need to now. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    ¡°Well if she has, let me know. After today you¡¯re not my student anymore so anything goes.¡±

    Damien shook his head and the basket hit the second-floor landing. She never quit. ¡°Thanks. Though I¡¯d be too afraid of the other guys to try anything with the object of their affections.¡±

    She laughed, hugged him again, and rose up to the sixth floor and her apartment. Damien sighed. When he got back from The Citadel he¡¯d have to find an apartment in the upper levels. He was a sorcerer now, which meant he couldn¡¯t stay in the students¡¯ rooms anymore.

    He made the familiar walk back to the room he shared with Eli and pushed the door open. His roommate lay on his bed, an arm over his eyes. When Damien entered he rolled on his side. ¡°How¡¯d you do?¡±

    ¡°Passed. Took damn near three hours. What happened to you?¡±

    ¡°My shield broke, I missed half the moving targets, and my construct lost its mock battle.¡±

    Damien winced. He¡¯d failed attack, shield, and conjuring, the three primary skills for a sorcerer, not good. ¡°What about the rest?¡±

    ¡°I passed detection and shaping no problem and I could have passed healing, but I failed the other three first.¡±

    ¡°Sorry. Want some advice?¡±

    Eli shrugged, sighed, and said, ¡°Sure, what could it hurt?¡±

    ¡°Chose one of the three you failed and focus on it for the next six months. When the time comes you¡¯ll have your skills ready to go.¡±

    Eli got up and they shook hands. ¡°Thanks, Damien, you¡¯ve been a good roommate and friend. I suppose I¡¯ll get a new bunkmate now.¡±

    ¡°Only for six months, then you can get an apartment on my floor, whichever one I end up on. I¡¯m heading out for a few days. See you later.¡±

    ¡°I saw your sister¡¯s letter on your desk. You must be excited to finally go home again.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, excited and terrified, the same as when I arrived here.¡±

 1.14

    Damien circled The Citadel once to have a look around. It was late afternoon on a dull, gray summer day. He¡¯d gathered his gear and taken off a couple minutes after his talk with Eli.  His rucksack and weapons hung off his shoulder, just like when he¡¯d left, but he didn¡¯t bother with a mount. Instead he flew on his own like a bird, his shield keeping the bugs out of his mouth and nose. He went full blast, pushing as hard as he dared. He ended up making the return trip in under an hour.

    Below him, tiny figures practiced their forms in the training yard. A wave of nostalgia hit him, just for a second, before he remembered all the bad things he had to put up with. He descended and landed on the dirt patch beside the wall. No one greeted him, of course. He¡¯d come early hoping to surprise Jen and Lizzy.

    He skirted the practice field, pausing a moment to look the students over and make sure no one was a sorcerer. Nope, all happy little warlords. That was good. He wouldn¡¯t have wished the frustration he went through on anyone.

    He angled toward the fortress. Classes would end soon and Damien wanted to avoid the press of students in the entry hall.

    He walked through the doors and sighed in relief. The hall was empty; he¡¯d beaten the rush. He jogged up the stairs and down the hall to his family¡¯s quarters. He raised his hand to knock then hesitated. Three years, what would it be like to walk through that door again after three years?

    Stop being such a wimp.

    He pushed the door open.

    Jen stood in the kitchen setting the table, her familiar golden hair swirling around her as she worked. She¡¯d grown since he last saw her. She stood close to six feet tall now and her figure had filled in. He suspected the guys still drooled when she walked by. Especially if she walked by wearing an outfit like the one she had on now. Sheer blue fabric billowed around her and slits in the arms and legs revealed smooth skin. A lot of female warlords dressed in revealing outfits to distract their opponents, their iron skin defense better protection than any armor.

    ¡°Hey, sis.¡±

    The plate in her hand fell to the kitchen floor and shattered. She spun, eyes filled with tears. ¡°Damien.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    She covered the distance between them in an instant, lifted him off the ground, and spun him around. She cried openly as she hugged him. He had a tickle in his throat, but managed not to cry. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you too.¡±

    She set him down. ¡°I didn¡¯t know if you were coming. Why didn¡¯t you write?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know if I was coming either until I passed the final test this morning. I¡¯m a full sorcerer now. I still have to do fieldwork with a more experienced sorcerer for two years before they¡¯ll give me my own missions, but I have no restrictions on my power beyond good sense.¡±

    ¡°Congratulations.¡± She stepped back and looked at him. ¡°You¡¯ve grown so much.¡±

    ¡°So have you,¡± he said, eyeing her ample chest.

    ¡°Ugh! Why is it every boy, even my brother, notices those first? I swear they¡¯re nothing but a nuisance. Still, they make an excellent distraction when I fight men.¡±

    ¡°I bet. What¡¯s for dinner?¡±

    ¡°Roast venison and vegetables. I need to clean up that plate.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll get it.¡± Damien focused on the plate and the pieces glowed and lifted off the floor. He heated the edges and fused the chunks together. The small bits he melted and used to fill the cracks. Finally he polished the surface and it looked good as new. ¡°There, all fixed.¡±

    She looked at him then at the plate floating in the air in one piece. ¡°Neat trick.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± He lowered the plate into the sink and released his power. ¡°How¡¯s it feel to be a proper warlord?¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± Jen finished setting the table, adding a place for him. ¡°They gave me my own squad. There¡¯s only five of us, but I¡¯m in command.¡±

    Damien sat in his usual place at the table. ¡°Congratulations. From your letters I got the impression you didn¡¯t care much for working with the watch in Port Valcane.¡±

    She grimaced. ¡°No, the commander was grabby and it took all my self-control not to knock him through the wall of his office. That was a long year.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed you managed it. What¡¯s your squad like?¡±

    She grinned and sat across from him. ¡°They¡¯re great. Tough, smart, and determined. One of them graduated this year, two are my yearmates, and the fourth is a veteran of twenty years.¡±

    Damien offered a knowing smile. ¡°Is he there to keep an eye on you?¡±

    ¡°Probably, but he¡¯s never undercut me with the others and he follows orders like any other soldier so I can¡¯t complain.¡±

    A creak from the door stopped Damien before he could ask another question. He glanced over his shoulder to see his father walk into the room, Lizzy held easily in his left hand. He spotted Damien and stopped. Here it comes.

    ¡°Hi, Dad, I¡¯m home.¡±

    ¡°Damien. You¡¯ve completed your studies?¡±

    Not the warmest greeting, but at least he hadn¡¯t yelled or threatened to throw him out. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m a full sorcerer now.¡± Damien conjured a little light and made it vanish.

    His father hung Lizzy over the fireplace and took his seat at the head of the table. ¡°Sending you there was the right decision. Good. When¡¯s dinner?¡±

 1.15

    Damien lay on his old, lumpy bed, legs crossed, staring at the ceiling. Dinner had been an interesting sort of awkward. He and Dad had no idea how to react to each other. Jen had tried to fill the silence, but only sounded pained. They ended up eating without conversation and after he helped Jen clean up Damien retreated to his room. It would be a long visit if he and Dad couldn¡¯t figure out some way to get comfortable with each other.

    He closed his eyes and found himself floating beside a beautiful, naked Lizzy. He sighed at the sight of her. They stared at each other for a moment then came together. The feathers of her wings tickled the back of his neck and her tears soaked his shirt. He held her, her body soft and familiar in his arms. Damien had dreamed of this reunion for three years.

    When they parted she wiped her eyes. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure you¡¯d ever come back.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t think I¡¯d forget about you, did you?¡±

    She sniffed. ¡°Not really, but we were so far apart. You might have found another girl.¡±

    Damien grinned. ¡°As though a girl exists that could compare with you.¡±

    She smiled. That appeared to have been the right thing to say.

    ¡°In fact I used you as the model for my shaping final. The masters seemed impressed with the little statue I made of you.¡± He concentrated and a replica of his final project appeared in the air between them.

    She flew around the statue, looking it over. ¡°Not too bad.¡±

    She lashed her wings and flew away. Damien let the statue vanish and chased after her. They played the old game, racing through the endless sky. When he caught her this time, she made his clothes vanish and wrapped them both in her wings.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Later they drifted together, her wings around them like a blanket. Damien had always known this day would arrive, but now that it had, it felt more perfect than he¡¯d dared hope. Lizzy rested her head on his chest and he put an arm around her. Not for the first time Damien wished he could stay with her like this forever. It would certainly be preferable to having to try to talk to his father again.

    ¡°He regrets having been so hard on you.¡± Lizzy¡¯s glowing red eyes looked up at him. She must have read his thoughts.

    ¡°He just doesn¡¯t know how to fix it. Emotional matters have never been Fredric¡¯s strong suit.¡±

    Damien laughed, short, bitter and humorless. ¡°No kidding. After the Solstice I¡¯ll head back to The Tower and he¡¯ll be free of me again.¡±

    ¡°Do you have to leave so soon?¡±

    He stroked her hair. ¡°I¡¯ve got to start my fieldwork. I wish I could take you with me.¡±

    She sighed and nuzzled his neck. ¡°I can¡¯t project myself more than fifty feet, and I know of no sorcery that would allow us to connect over such a distance.¡±

    ¡°I can try to visit more often. Maybe me and Dad can figure out some way to talk to each other that doesn¡¯t resemble pulling teeth.¡±

    ¡°I think he would like that. I certainly would.¡±

    Lizzy¡¯s head lifted off his chest and listened to something beyond his perception.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Someone came to the door and now your sister¡¯s getting dressed.¡±

    ¡°Trouble?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s after midnight, so I assume so.¡±

    Reading his mind again Lizzy returned him to his body. Damien rolled out of bed and went to the door in time to see Jen walk out of her room, her sword strapped to her back. Just inside the door stood a tall, broad-shouldered boy with a maul over his shoulder. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±

    She turned back. ¡°Goblins. They burned a farm eight miles north. I¡¯m taking my squad to investigate. Go back to bed.¡±

    ¡°Be careful.¡±

    She threw a wave over his shoulder and walked out with the stranger. Damien went back to bed and sighed. Goblins, so close to The Citadel. That was certainly strange. Usually they kept to the wild lands. The green-skinned monsters were stupid enough, but he thought they had more sense than to hunt near a cluster of warlords. He fell asleep still musing on what had prompted the little brutes to do something so foolish.

 1.16

    Jen cinched the buckles on her back sheath tight as she walked down the hall beside Edward Mark, one of her squad members. They strode through the hall outside the living quarters, the only sound this late at night their boots on the stone floor. Glow globes set every twenty feet lit their path. Edward had drawn the short straw and received the task of fetching her when word of another goblin raid arrived at The Citadel. A little after midnight a night patrol had seen flames and when they went to investigate, discovered the attack. The little bastards had burned a farm an hour¡¯s ride away. They did it to mock her, she knew it.

    The raids had started two weeks ago. Local patrols had failed to deal with them; three soldiers were killed in the first attempt to handle the green-skinned monsters. After that the patrol leader put in a request to have warlords handle the matter. Hunting down a few goblin raiders should have been a simple matter, so Dad assigned Jen and her squad to the mission, her first as a commander. Three burned farms later Jen had begun to doubt their ability to even find the miserable wretches.

    She clenched her jaw and sent soul force through her brain to burn the last of the sleep from her mind. She needed her full focus tonight. No way would her prey escape this time. Outside the fortress¡¯s main doors the rest of her squad waited with saddled horses. Dim light from a near-full moon lit the yard. Jen sent soul force to her eyes to enhance her vision and the scene before her became clear.

    Three warlords sat astride their horses, weapons and other gear secured, eager and ready for a fight. Jen leapt onto the back of her black gelding. None of them were more eager than her.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡±

    They thundered through the main gate and turned up the dirt road, following the directions the patrolman provided. Between the moonlight and smooth road they made good time for the first part of the trip. Sparks leaping into the air showed the location of the burning farmhouse. Jen reined in her mount and turned off the main road and onto a rutted wagon path that led down to the farm.

    As they got closer the smoldering remains of the house came into view along with three patrolmen who were placing a shroud over an uncovered body. Jen frowned. More bodies on her watch. Each one pained her, as much because of the failure they represented as the loss of life. Jen hated failing, probably because she¡¯d done so little of it. That¡¯s what Damien would say if he could hear her thoughts.

    She didn¡¯t yet know what to make of her little brother. He¡¯d changed in the three years he spent at Sorcery. His trick with the plate showed he¡¯d learned to use his soul force. She smiled at that. He¡¯d struggled so long to get his power to work. That he¡¯d finally found a way forward pleased her.

    The group stopped short of the patrolmen and dismounted. Jen caught Talon¡¯s eye and nodded toward the farmhouse. The lanky warlord nodded and rushed over, soul-force-enhanced eyes scanning for tracks. Talon had a knack for hunting, having grown up the son of a woodsman at the edge of the Great Green. If anyone could figure out where the goblins went it was him. The patrolmen left their grisly task and walked over to the warlords.

    ¡°Report,¡± Jen said.

    Two of the patrolmen looked at the third man, an older fellow with a salt-and-pepper beard and tired eyes. He cleared his throat. ¡°We were riding our usual patrol an hour or so before midnight when we saw the glow from the fire. When we arrived the house was fully engulfed and we saw no goblins. This is the second farm attack I¡¯ve seen so I figured it had to be the same bunch as before. I sent Mica to The Citadel and the rest of us searched for survivors.¡± He nodded toward the bodies. ¡°Didn¡¯t find any.¡±

    Jen patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Thank you. We¡¯ll take it from here.¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Get them bastards, ma¡¯am. Don¡¯t know how many more farmers I can tell to lock their doors at night and they¡¯ll be fine before I throw up.¡±

    Jen knew just how he felt. Every time they arrived too late to save a family then failed to track down the creatures responsible she felt sick and angry, mostly angry. ¡°We¡¯ll get them. They can¡¯t hide forever. Head back to town and get some rest.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s all the same, I think we¡¯ll finish our patrol. Doubt I¡¯ll get any sleep tonight anyway.¡±

    Jen nodded. ¡°Whatever you think best. Thanks again.¡±

    Talon stood by the corner of the burning farmhouse. When she finished with the patrolmen he waved her over. When she arrived he pointed at the dirt. Short, wide prints covered the ground. She¡¯d visited enough goblin victims to recognize their tracks. ¡°Talk to me.¡±

    He pointed northeast. ¡°They came from that way, across the farmer¡¯s fields, and smashed down the back door. They dragged two people out here and the third ran toward the outhouse. Looks like the goblins ran that one down about halfway across the yard. They didn''t haul away any loot. They came, killed, burned, and left. I can¡¯t see much point to it.¡±

    ¡°Since when do goblins need to make sense?¡± The others had gathered around and they chuckled at her comment.

    Talon had a point though. These goblins acted even stranger than usual for their insane kind. Not that it mattered to her why they did it, all she cared about was finding them and putting an end to it. ¡°Which way?¡±

    ¡°Same way they arrived, back across the fields. They didn¡¯t make any effort to hide their tracks. It¡¯s like they don¡¯t care if we follow them. It¡¯s kind of insulting.¡±

    They left their horses tied to an old elm a safe distance from the burning ruin. In the dark, moving across rough ground, they¡¯d be better off on foot. Talon led the way, the others a few steps behind. They left the yard and entered a field with what Jen guessed was wheat; most of the farms around here grew wheat. She shook her head. What a stupid thing to think about.

    Focusing on the situation at hand, she used her soul force to sharpen her hearing and smell, either one of which would be more likely than her sight to warn her of an approaching enemy in the dark. Talon led them on, never hesitating, along the goblin trail.

    From her position behind him she saw the path the goblins had left as clear as the wagon ruts that led to the farmhouse. Talon was right, they didn¡¯t seem to care if anyone followed them. If she was following an enemy that wasn¡¯t obviously insane she¡¯d fear an ambush. In this case she¡¯d welcome it, at least they could come to blows with the goblins instead of chasing them all over the countryside.

    They arrived at the edge of a forest. It was of fair size and consisted mainly of evergreens. No one had bothered to name it since, despite its size, it was tiny compared to the Great Green. Talon paused a moment at the edge of the forest and crouched down for a closer look at the tracks.

    A couple minutes later they were on their way again, angling more east than north. For an hour they marched through thick, young evergreens. Finally they stopped at a thicket of brambles and blackberry bushes. Some of the vines had inch-long thorns.

    ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°The tracks lead in there.¡± He pointed to some broken vines where the goblins had pushed them aside. ¡°Gonna be a bitch forcing our way through. You want to stay on their trail or circle around and try to cut it on the opposite side?¡±

    ¡°Keep on them.¡± There was no way she¡¯d let the little bastards have a chance of sneaking past them now. ¡°Our iron skin will protect us from the thorns.¡±

    Talon nodded and pushed his way through the brush. Jen followed a step behind. She felt the sharpness of the thorns, but when she yanked them aside they broke off on her impenetrable skin. Her very penetrable clothes, unfortunately, grew ever more shredded with each step. Jen grimaced and kept going. She had plenty of clothes back home. Fifteen minutes of hard slogging later Talon stopped and stared at the ground.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Jen stood beside him and looked where he was looking.

    ¡°The trail ends here.¡±

    She studied the area, but saw nothing except brambles and thorns. Where the hell could the goblins have gone that their trail just vanished? It didn¡¯t seem possible. ¡°Explain.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°The trail ends. One minute it was there, now it¡¯s not. I can¡¯t explain it.¡±

    Rhys yawned. They¡¯d been at it for hours. Jen hated to quit, but with no trail to follow she couldn¡¯t think what to do next. She snarled at the heavens. How did they do it? Every time she thought she was close the trail vanished.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go back, get some food and new clothes, and head out again,¡± she said. Maybe her brother the sorcerer would know something. Heaven knew she needed the help.

 1.17

    When Damien walked out of his room he found Dad and Lizzy already gone and Jen not back yet. He sighed. So much for a family breakfast. He found bread and jam along with milk from the icebox and fixed himself a snack. He¡¯d finished half of it when Jen pushed the door open and trudged through, her clothes torn and her sword dragging behind her.

    ¡°Hard fight?¡±

    She shook her head and tossed the sword on the couch. ¡°We tracked them through the forest, brambles, and thickets for hours then lost them. I don¡¯t know how they do it! It¡¯s like magic.¡±

    Damien fixed her a slice of bread and jam then poured a second glass of milk. He didn¡¯t have enough hands to carry everything over to the couch so he conjured an extra pair. Glowing, golden hands zipped Jen¡¯s breakfast over to her. She flinched when the disembodied hands appeared before her, then took the food. Damien joined her and they ate together on the couch.

    ¡°Dad would have a fit if he saw us eating on the couch,¡± Jen said around a mouthful of bread.

    Damien finished his breakfast. He was in too good a mood after last night to care what his father thought about him eating on the couch. ¡°What are you going to do?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She sipped her milk. ¡°We¡¯ve tried everything, but we always lose them after a few miles. Can you take a look? You don¡¯t have to fight, just help us find them.¡±

    ¡°If they¡¯re using sorcery there might be residual energy I can track. I¡¯m not sure what the masters would say, but since this isn¡¯t a proper mission there shouldn¡¯t be any problem with me helping you out. When do you want to go?¡±

    ¡°Right now.¡± She kissed his cheek, leaving a spot of sticky jam. ¡°Let me wash up and get some new clothes. My team¡¯s getting breakfast and we were planning on heading back out anyway.¡±

    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll meet you in the hall.¡±

    Damien left Jen to get cleaned up. He locked the door behind him so no one would walk in on her and headed down the hall toward the entry. He didn¡¯t bother with his sword. In a real fight a steel sword was about his weakest option. In the entry hall a couple dozen students stood around chatting. He saw no one he knew. His class would have graduated last year and received their first assignments so it was no surprise everyone was a stranger.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°Well, well, what are the odds?¡±

    Damien groaned at the familiar voice. He turned and saw Dirk and Donk coming from the general direction of the mess hall. He hadn¡¯t expected those two idiots to be here. They were a year ahead of him and should be out on whatever assignment the military had chosen for them. ¡°Dirk. What¡¯s the matter, no one want you two in their command?¡±

    Donk clenched his fist, but Dirk laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. ¡°On the contrary, we completed our third successful mission and are waiting for our next assignment. Good of you to come home and provide us a little entertainment while we wait.¡±

    Damien grinned. He wasn¡¯t some scared kid looking to run this time. He was a sorcerer, with full access to all his powers. If these clowns thought they could push him around now, they were in for a surprise. ¡°All right, let¡¯s play that game you two liked so well. You remember, the one where I hit you as hard as I can then you hit me as hard as you can. I¡¯ll even let you go first.¡±

    ¡°Brave of you, punching bag.¡± Dirk balled his fist.

    ¡°What¡¯re you two doing?¡± Jen stood at the top of the stairs. She had changed into an identical outfit, this one free from rips, and carried her sword over her shoulder.

    Dirk and Donk stepped back from him. Damien looked up at Jen. ¡°It¡¯s okay, sis, we¡¯re playing a game. No need to worry.¡±

    Damien poured power into his shield. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, boys, she won¡¯t interfere. Right, Jen?¡±

    Jen looked at him. She wasn¡¯t a sorcerer and couldn¡¯t see the power surrounding him, but she must have gotten a sense of his confidence. ¡°You sure?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely.¡± Damien tapped his chin. ¡°Go ahead, give it your best shot.¡±

    Dirk shrugged. ¡°Your funeral.¡±

    He swung with all his might. Soul force coursed through his body as he put everything he had into it. Dirk¡¯s fist hit Damien¡¯s shield and stopped. He could have punched a mountain and done more damage. The dumbfounded Dirk pulled his fist back and stared at it like it had betrayed him.

    Damien turned to Donk. ¡°Your turn.¡±

    Donk tried an uppercut to Damien¡¯s stomach with the same results as his cousin. They looked at each other then back at Damien. It would have been comical if it wasn¡¯t so pathetic.

    ¡°My turn.¡±

    Damien shaped a golden gauntlet around his right fist, then covered his arm and shoulder in more golden armor. He pumped a third of his power into the construct. Little sparks and jagged mini-lightning bolts sparked off the armor. Excess power caused the floor and walls to vibrate and dust to fall from the ceiling. It seemed like the whole fortress was shaking.

    He drew his fist back.

    Dirk and Donk ran back the way they¡¯d come as fast as their soul-force-enhanced legs could carry them. The assembled students and Jen all stared at him with wide eyes. Damien reabsorbed the power and the vibrations stopped.

    He glanced up at his sister. ¡°Ready?¡±

 1.18

    Damien and Jen walked out the doors together and turned toward the stables. He couldn¡¯t stop grinning about the way Dirk and Donk had run off. That made his visit home even sweeter.

    ¡°What would have happened if you¡¯d hit one of those idiots with that thing you made?¡±

    Damien had been pretty confident the cousins would run at the sight of his construct, so he hadn¡¯t given it much thought. ¡°It probably would have blasted them into a fine red mist. Don¡¯t worry, if they hadn¡¯t run I would have pulled the power back enough to only break a few bones.¡±

    ¡°You scared me half to death when you let them hit you. I guess you don¡¯t need me to protect you anymore.¡±

    Damien reached out and squeezed her hand. ¡°I¡¯ll always need you to protect me. That¡¯s what big sisters are for.¡±

    She squeezed back. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Damien winced when the familiar stink of the stables reached them. The Citadel kept fifty horses on site for the masters and students to use in their training and on missions. The stable itself was a long narrow building with an exit on either end. Four men stood beside five horses near the door. They had the horses saddled and ready to go. When they spotted Jen they snapped to attention. Good discipline, Dad would approve.

    ¡°Guys, this is my brother, Damien. Damien, this is my squad.¡± She named them one after another. The tall one with the maul on his shoulder was Edward Mark. He had come to fetch Jen the night before. Next came Talon Wrath. He wore a pair of swords belted at his waist and had a fit, but not bulky build. Talon regarded Damien with cool, appraising eyes. Standing beside Talon was a grizzled, scarred veteran who looked older than Dad, named Rhys. He carried a mace in a loop on his belt and wore a shield on his back. Last was a whip-thin kid Damien¡¯s age with a staff, named Alec Wright. The way he looked at Jen told Damien everything he needed to know about Mr. Wright. He¡¯d fallen head over heels for his lovely sister.

    ¡°Why¡¯d you bring the kid?¡± Talon asked.

    ¡°Damien just finished his training at Sorcery. He¡¯s going to help us find the goblins.¡±

    ¡°More likely he¡¯ll slow us down,¡± Edward said.

    Damien hadn¡¯t expected a warm welcome, but he figured at least they¡¯d give him a chance. ¡°If you guys think you can find the goblins on your own that¡¯s fine, but so far all you¡¯ve done is make my sister look bad.¡±

    Edward¡¯s hand tightened on his maul and soul force coursed through his body. Damien sighed. None of them had enough power to concern him. He could lay them all out without breaking a sweat, but that wouldn¡¯t help Jen deal with the goblins.

    ¡°Kid¡¯s got a point,¡± Rhys said. ¡°I don¡¯t fancy spending another day thrashing through the woods with my thumb up my ass. If he can find them I¡¯m glad to have him along.¡±

    Jen grabbed Edward¡¯s leather shirt and yanked his head down so his eyes were level with hers. ¡°Damien¡¯s coming. We¡¯re not having a debate or a vote, clear?¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±

    Damien forced himself not to smile. She had a way of getting her point across.

    ¡°I¡¯ll saddle another horse,¡± Alec said.

    ¡°No need.¡± Damien concentrated and a golden horse appeared beside him. He spent another moment turning it black to match his sister¡¯s then leapt up into the saddle. ¡°Ready when you are.¡±

    The others mounted up and Jen led the way through The Citadel¡¯s main gate. She guided them north along a well-worn dirt road. The horses went at an easy canter and Damien matched their pace. His construct¡¯s hooves never touched the ground, instead he glided along just above the road. It made for a smooth ride, certainly better than bouncing along on a living horse.

    He eased up beside his sister. ¡°Where are we going?¡±

    ¡°The thicket where we lost the trail.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be better if we go to the site of the attack so I can track them from the beginning. If they are using sorcery they might have led you down a false trail.¡±

    She looked over at him. ¡°Can you do that?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Easily. Make some fake goblins the way I did my horse, send them off through the nastiest patch of forest around, and laugh while you guys got shredded by thorns.¡±

    ¡°You think that¡¯s what happened?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Best not to take chances.¡±

    They reached the still-smoldering farmhouse an hour later. Blackened timbers stuck out of the basement and three shrouded bodies lay on the ground a few feet away awaiting burial. It was a mess. Damien studied the ground. Small tracks covered the soft dirt. A strange black energy swirled around the bodies; not much, more like the remnants of a casting.

    Damien had never seen the soul force of a goblin and had no idea if that¡¯s what the energy was. He circled the ruins and soon found wisps of the same power leading toward the distant woods. He guided his mount in that direction, following the wisps. When he reached the edge of the trees, thicker blobs of dark energy went left while fainter flecks went straight ahead.

    He turned to his sister. ¡°Which way did you guys go?¡±

    She pointed left and Damien nodded. ¡°They laid a false trail for you. The real path goes straight ahead, deeper into the woods.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯re no tracks that way,¡± Edward said. It looked like he was going to play the part of second guesser.

    ¡°Look under my horse¡¯s hooves. Do you see any tracks? If the goblins have a sorcerer, which it¡¯s clear they do, then hiding their path is simple. I¡¯m tracking the remnants of the sorcerer¡¯s casting and it goes straight ahead.¡±

    ¡°The forest is too thick for horses.¡± Jen swung down off her mount. ¡°We¡¯ll leave them and continue on foot.¡±

    Damien dismounted and reabsorbed the construct. While the others hobbled their horses Damien concentrated on the trail. The sorcerer must have surrounded the goblins with a shield that brushed the branches aside and let them snap back into place without breaking. That was tricky work, making a path through the thick evergreens and breaking no branches. The enemy sorcerer had skill, no doubt.

    When they¡¯d finished tending the horses Jen said, ¡°Lead on.¡±

    Damien expanded his shield so it was outside his clothes and started forward. The prickly spruce limbs made no more impression on his shield than Dirk¡¯s punch. The little group tromped through the forest until well past noon, following the twisting trail of dark energy.

    ¡°Look here.¡± Talon bent down to examine the ground. ¡°Tracks.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.Sure enough, as though out of nowhere, the tracks of a group of goblins appeared in the soft dirt of the forest floor. ¡°They must have figured they were far enough away that we wouldn¡¯t stumble over their trail.¡± Jen patted Talon¡¯s shoulder.

    Talon assumed the lead, his eyes focused on the now-obvious trail. Damien made no complaint about the warlord taking over the tracking duties. He focused on the dark energy, making sure it continued to follow the tracks and they didn¡¯t veer off on another false path.

    They continued on for another hour, the residual energy getting thicker with each step deeper into the forest. Around them the scrubby evergreens had given way to towering, mature pines. If they got the goblins cleaned out, some loggers would drool over the tall, straight trees.

    ¡°Damien.¡± Jen walked by herself a little ways from the rest of her squad.

    He went over to join her. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to thank you. We¡¯d have never found their trail this deep into the forest.¡±

    Damien grinned. ¡°No problem. This is the sort of thing we¡¯re trained for. Maybe you can write me a little recommendation for whichever sorcerer I end up serving with.¡±

    ¡°Of course, I¡ª¡±

    He held up a hand to stop her. Up ahead a pillar of dark energy rose out of the forest. No goblin sorcerer put out that much energy. Whatever they were approaching it was powerful, and evil. ¡°We¡¯re getting close, sis. Whatever¡¯s out there, it isn¡¯t just goblins.¡±

    ¡°What do you see?¡±

    Damien described it to her. ¡°We need to be real careful.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°Talon! Don¡¯t get too far ahead. Weapons out and eyes focused. Alec, you¡¯re on rear guard. Damien, stay with me in the center.¡±

    The squad drew their weapons, formed up, and made their cautious way onward. The closer they got the thicker the miasma appeared. Damien¡¯s stomach clenched. He¡¯d never seen anything so wrong. Around them the trees reflected the corruption; bark peeled and drooped from drying trunks, the limbs twisted like arthritic hands. The grass and shrubs had withered and curled up. He tapped a dry bush with his toe and it disintegrated.

    They climbed up a little rise and stopped. Ahead of them, in a clearing, sat a jumbled up pile of trees, branches, and mud. Easily forty yards in diameter and twenty feet tall, the goblin lair resembled a giant beaver lodge. Like a lodge, the inside would be hollow with chambers and passages. A large opening about eight feet in diameter faced them and to Damien¡¯s enhanced sight it looked like a chimney belching corruption.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go get ¡¯em.¡± Talon started down the far side of the bank.

    ¡°Wait.¡± All Damien¡¯s senses screamed that danger waited in the lair. ¡°At least let me scout it so we have some idea what we¡¯re walking into.¡±

    Edward looked at him, a dubious frown twisting his lips. ¡°You think you can sneak in there?¡±

    ¡°Not me.¡± Damien held out his hand and a golden wasp appeared above it. He concentrated and the color shifted so it looked like a black wasp. ¡°A scout bug. They¡¯ll never notice it and we can see what¡¯s in there.¡±

    ¡°Good idea.¡± Jen motioned them back down the bank. ¡°Send it in.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing but a bunch of stinking goblins. Just because they set up in this nasty stretch of woods doesn¡¯t mean anything. We go in and carve them up, like we were trained.¡± Talon stood a little below the top of the bank, his swords clenched in his fists. He looked tempted to ignore Jen. Heaven help him if he did.

    Jen glared at him. ¡°Get down here and keep quiet. They¡¯ve got at least one sorcerer and who knows what else. A little scouting seems like just the thing to me. It¡¯s not like the ugly monsters are going anywhere. Go on, Damien.¡±

    He nodded and conjured a flat rectangle of soul force and connected it to the wasp with a hair-thick strand of energy. An image of the surrounding forest appeared on the viewer. Satisfied with the connection, Damien made the thread invisible and sent the wasp toward the mouth of the lair. The image shifted as the wasp flew, showing whatever the little construct looked at.

    Jen stood beside him and studied the image. ¡°That¡¯s amazing. I didn¡¯t know sorcerers could do something like this.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a handy trick.¡±

    The wasp entered and the image went dark. Damien frowned and adjusted the wasp¡¯s eyes through the link, making them bigger and reflective to increase the light they collected. The image brightened. The inside of the mound looked just like you¡¯d expect a hollowed-out pile of wood to look like. Branches jutted into the tunnel and a rough, worn path led deeper into the lair.

    Damien had expected the tunnel to narrow soon after the entrance. Given the goblins¡¯ small stature a narrow tunnel would give them an advantage in a fight, instead it maintained its size the whole way.

    Ten feet in, the bug reached the first branch in the tunnel. Damien guided it down the side tunnel. A couple feet further on it widened into a round room filled with trash, animal skins, and half-eaten gobbets of meat. Damien shuddered, glad he couldn¡¯t connect a thread to transmit smell.

    No other paths led out of the chamber so he guided the bug back to the main tunnel. Over the next five minutes they passed two more branches leading to living chambers like the first, but still no goblins. The main tunnel led to another round chamber three times the size of the smaller ones.

    Ten goblins gathered around a giant creature seated on a crude wooden throne. It had curved tusks and long six-fingered hands ending in black talons. Rolls of fat under coarse black fur covered its body. Through the link Damien saw the corruption rolling off the monster. The goblins¡¯ eyes resembled black pits as they stared, enraptured, by the horror on the throne. They¡¯d absorbed the monster¡¯s corruption.

    ¡°What the hell is that?¡± Jen asked. She stared at the monstrosity on the projection, her mouth partway open as though she wanted to say more but couldn¡¯t find the words.

    ¡°It¡¯s a demon. That¡¯s the source of the corruption.¡± Damien shuddered. Demons were an abomination that had no place in the mortal world. Over time, just by being here, they twisted everything and everyone around them, turning their surroundings into a little slice of hell on earth.

    Only rarely could a demon overcome its innate corruption and transform into something purer, a risen demon, like Lizzy. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s taken control of the tribe. See the especially wrinkled one closest to it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Man, that¡¯s one ugly goblin.¡±

    The withered goblin beside the demon¡¯s throne had bones driven through its earlobes, lips and nose. Sharp fangs protruded from its upper lip. Withered, sagging breasts argued it was female, but Damien had no intention of getting close enough to make sure.

    ¡°That¡¯s their sorcerer. There¡¯s a connection between her and the demon. She¡¯s not a full warlock, but her power¡¯s been enhanced by the demon¡¯s corruption. The regular goblins have absorbed it as well. They¡¯ll be much more dangerous than anything you¡¯re used to.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re nothing but shit-stinkin¡¯ little goblins.¡± Talon¡¯s knuckles were white, he was gripping his swords so tight. ¡°Let¡¯s go get them.¡±

    Jen ignored Talon and pointed at a pair of dark arches at the rear of the throne room, for lack of a better word. ¡°What are those?¡±

    Damien guided the wasp along the ceiling, hoping neither the sorcerer nor the demon would notice it. It reached the closest arch and flew through. A long, narrow, twisting tunnel led to a small opening to the surface. Looked like a back door. He searched beyond the second arch and found another exit. It was too small for the demon, but the goblins could escape through them easily enough.

    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± Damien let the wasp dissolve. ¡°A demon, a sorcerer, and nine corrupted goblins. We should get out of here and collect some reinforcements. I can fly to The Tower, get some more sorcerers, and be back in a day.¡±

    ¡°What if they attack another farm tonight?¡± Edward said. ¡°While you¡¯re collecting reinforcements people might die. We¡¯re here now. Let¡¯s deal with them before they do any more harm.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Talon said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Alec chewed his lip. ¡°If there¡¯s a demon¡­¡±

    Rhys remained silent, his gaze on Jen. Whatever the others thought, it was her call. Damien watched the muscles of her jaw work as she thought. ¡°Edward¡¯s right,¡± she said at last. ¡°We need to deal with them before anyone else gets hurt. We can¡¯t fight them in their lair. Damien, can you flush them out so we can fight in the open?¡±

    ¡°Sure, I can blast them out easy enough. What are you going to do about those other exits?¡±

    She turned to Edward. ¡°Take Alec and cover the left side. Talon, you and Rhys take the right. We¡¯ll cover the main entrance. Kill anything that comes out then fall back here to reinforce us.¡±

    ¡°How are we supposed to find them?¡± Talon asked.

    Damien conjured two glowing spheres. ¡°Follow the lights. When you¡¯re in position crush them and I¡¯ll sense it. My blast will follow a minute later. Be careful. Their aura of corruption will make your iron skin vulnerable. Don¡¯t count on it to protect you.¡±

    ¡°How about you let us worry about the fighting?¡± Talon said.

    Damien sent the orbs out toward the small tunnels. It would take a couple minutes for them to get in place. He wished Jen had let him get help. During his studies he¡¯d read a lot about demons. Even a weak one would be a huge challenge. If he had to fight the sorcerer at the same time he didn¡¯t know what might happen.

    ¡°We can do this, right?¡± Jen sounded like she needed some encouragement. In truth he didn¡¯t know if they could do it and he didn¡¯t want to lie to his sister.

    ¡°It¡¯s not too late. You can call them back, we can retreat, and return with more help. There¡¯s no guarantee they¡¯ll attack again tonight.¡±

    ¡°But there¡¯s no guarantee they won¡¯t. Edward was right about that much. We¡¯ve been hunting these monsters for a week. The people rely on us to protect them and we¡¯ve done a poor job of it. We¡¯ll take them down together. I can count on you, right?¡±

    ¡°Do you even need to ask?¡±

    They shared a smile. A few seconds later the first then the second orb shattered. The others were in place.

    Damien conjured a ball of energy and hurled it at the entrance.

 1.19

    A golden ball of energy raced toward the entrance to the goblins¡¯ lair. It flew out of sight down the tunnel and Damien detonated it. The explosion shook the clearing and sent bits of wood flying out. Dust and debris marked the openings of the secondary exits. Jen drew her sword and he increased the power to his shield.

    Damien focused on the entrance. When the demon came he¡¯d have no trouble detecting it. Beside him Jen held her long sword in a two-handed grip, soul force surging through her body, strengthening her muscles and bones to many times the power of a normal person.

    He grabbed Jen¡¯s arm and yanked her behind him.

    A golden shield appeared before them an instant ahead of a blast of dark fire. Raging black flames swept by on either side of them. They didn¡¯t feel hot so much as wrong, an abomination that didn¡¯t belong in this world.

    When the flames subsided he absorbed the minimal energy remaining in his shield. From within the lair three small energy sources raced ahead of two bigger ones.

    Sounds of battle from deeper in the forest indicated the others had engaged their opponents.

    ¡°Here they come.¡±

    Three goblins, their eyes filled with corruption, the tips of their crude spears burning with the same black flames that had shot out of the tunnel, came screaming out of the exit.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Quick as thought, golden swords fell from the sky and pierced them through the head and chest. Damien reclaimed his power the instant the goblins died.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to leave any for me?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll get your chance. You have to keep the demon busy while I deal with the sorcerer.¡±

    As if summoned by his call the goblin sorcerer flew out of the mouth of the tunnel. A beam of darkness streaked toward Damien.

    He raised a shield to deflect it and leapt into the air after the goblin.

    Streaks of golden energy shot from his fingers, detonating around the monster, but never making a solid hit. They chased each other through the late afternoon sky, golden energy hammering dark barriers.

    The little bitch was fast, Damien had to give her credit.

    Damien conjured a wall in her path. If he could slow her down and get in a clean hit he¡¯d be able to end this fight.

    The goblin surrounded herself with an aura of dark power and smashed right through his wall.

    So much for that.

    At the edge of his awareness the seething power of the demon raged. He hoped Jen could keep it busy.

    A dark beam streaked past his head, missing by inches.

    He didn¡¯t dare worry about his sister now. If he did his opponent might get lucky and hurt him and then they would all be in serious trouble.

    The goblin dodged another of his blasts. The thing was too fast to hit that way.

    He conjured a pair of golden angels and sent them after the goblin. He didn¡¯t worry about them getting hit, instead focusing on getting them close to the enemy sorcerer.

    Lances of dark energy punched holes through his constructs, but they didn¡¯t falter. Damien poured more power into them, closing the holes and increasing their speed.

    One of them got a hand on the goblin¡¯s ankle. She turned to blast it. The moment the goblin stopped, the second angel grabbed her arms.

    Damien released the power in both constructs. The double explosions tore the little goblin to bits.

 1.20

    Jen stood, trembling, watching her brother exchange blasts with the wrinkled goblin. When the blast of dark fire shot out of the tunnel and she took cover behind Damien¡¯s shield, she had feared they¡¯d be incinerated. That his power blocked it amazed her.

    Jen knew her brother was powerful, his demonstration in the hall that morning made it clear enough, but the ease with which he blocked those flames then killed the goblins without batting an eye amazed her. It had always been her job to protect Damien, but now it seemed she was the one who needed protection.

    A roar sounded from the tunnel, drawing her back to the matter at hand. The demon lumbered into view. Its head brushed the top of the tunnel as it stepped out into the clearing, yellowish-green saliva dripping from its tusks. The sight of an enemy she could fight jolted Jen out of her stupor.

    She was a warlord and she had a job to do.

    She pushed soul force into her legs and sprinted toward the monster. Her sword sliced across its chest then she was past, its claws missing her by inches.

    The demon spun to face her, the wound on its chest closing as she watched.

    Jen shook her head. Her father didn¡¯t even heal that fast.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.She lunged toward it and sliced its knee. A taloned hand swooped down to tear her apart.

    Too slow.

    She leapt back and before it recovered darted in again, cutting its arm.

    It went like that for half a minute, her darting in to cut it and the demon healing the shallow wounds an instant later. She put some distance between them and took a deep breath. She could keep this up for hours, but it didn¡¯t seem like she was accomplishing anything.

    Jen blinked and the demon was before her, its clawed hand rushing toward her stomach.

    So fast!

    She got her sword between her and the monster¡¯s talons an instant before it sent her flying halfway across the clearing. The rough ground tore her clothes, ripping the left sleeve of her tunic off as she skidded through the dirt.

    She sprang to her feet in time to meet the brute¡¯s next charge.

    Claws met steel.

    Jen poured more soul force into her muscles to hold the demon back.

    How could it be so strong? She¡¯d hoped to save some power in case she needed it later, but if she held back the demon would kill her.

    Power flooded her body as she let all her soul force go. She shoved the demon back and hacked a chunk out of its side.

    Her sword blurred and thick black ichor flew as she hacked at her opponent.

    The demon took a step back and roared.

    Got you now, you ugly monster.

    Dark power rushed from the demon, its wounds closed in an instant, flames burst from around its hands and the ground under its feet blackened.

    Her body trembled as corruption poured from the beast. It had just been playing with her.

    Standing face to face with the demon, its full power revealed, Jen saw her death.

    Why hadn¡¯t she listened to Damien?

    This creature was so far beyond anything she¡¯d ever imagined. She felt like a little girl. A terrified little girl, facing a hungry bear.

    She would be devoured and there wasn¡¯t a thing she could do about it.

 1.21

    A surge of dark power drew Damien¡¯s attention back to the ground. Jen stood a few feet away from the demon, staring at it and not moving.

    Its power had overwhelmed her.

    Damien had read about that in his studies, but never imagined it happening to his sister, strong as she was.

    The demon raised a claw.

    Damien drew out half his remaining power and conjured a golden serpent. His construct wrapped around the demon, binding it in place.

    He let out a breath. He¡¯d made it in time.

    The demon¡¯s corruption was rotting his construct by the second. He needed to finish it, but didn¡¯t want his sister to feel like he¡¯d saved her. She needed to be part of its defeat to regain some of her confidence.

    ¡°Jen!¡±

    She shook herself and looked up at him. Damien dragged his finger across his throat and pointed at the demon. Jen looked at the bound monster and nodded.

    She leapt.

    All her power flowed into her arms and back as she swung her sword at the demon¡¯s neck. Its head shot up into the air and Jen rolled clear.

    The serpent snapped the head out of the air and Damien detonated it, sending the power into the sky instead of outwards into the clearing. A great pillar of golden light consumed the demon so nothing of it remained.

    Damien sighed. He sensed no other sources of corruption outside the lair.

    It looked like they¡¯d won.

    Thank heaven for that. He only had a third of his power left.

    Jen knelt a little ways away from the shallow crater that marked the demon¡¯s grave. He landed beside her, taking a moment to shift the flow of his soul force so half went to replenishing his core rather than the usual trickle. ¡°You okay?¡±

    She stood, sheathed her sword, and nodded. ¡°It didn¡¯t hit me. Damn, that thing was strong. I know Dad¡¯s killed a demon or two, but I can¡¯t see how he managed it. I couldn¡¯t do much more than scratch the thing.¡±

    ¡°For one thing, Dad¡¯s got more soul force than you. Not a lot.¡± He raised his hands when she glared at him. ¡°He¡¯s also got Lizzy, which doubles his strength. She can also send her power through the blade so it cuts better than normal steel. Those are huge advantages.¡±

    She didn¡¯t seem convinced, but screams, growing closer by the second, ended the conversation. Rhys burst into the clearing, Talon slung over his shoulder. The younger man was clutching his leg and screaming with each breath.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Jen rushed over to check on her subordinate.

    Rhys lowered Talon to the ground. ¡°One of the goblins got through his guard and jabbed him in the leg. Didn¡¯t look like much of a blow, but the spear pierced him deep. He fell screaming on the spot. I killed the little bugger, but I couldn¡¯t do anything for Talon.¡±

    Jen tore the cloth away from the wound. The goblin had stabbed Talon in the lower thigh, six inches above his left knee. Black lines ran out from a raw, red wound. Talon gritted his teeth, trying to hold in the screams.

    He managed it for a couple of seconds.

    Jen put a hand on his forehead. ¡°Talon, you have to focus on healing.¡±

    He thrashed and gasped. ¡°Can¡¯t. Hurts, so much pain.¡±

    Edward and Alec emerged from the woods and rushed over. While Rhys filled them in Jen led Damien off to the side. ¡°Can you heal him?¡±

    Damien shook his head. Despite his considerable skills, healing was the one thing he couldn¡¯t do. His soul force was too dense for such fine work. ¡°I¡¯d be more likely to blow his leg off than cure him. There¡¯s one thing I can try, but I make no promises. The corruption¡¯s deep in his flesh.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s dying. Do whatever you can.¡±

    Damien nodded and knelt beside the thrashing Talon. He put his hand above Talon¡¯s wound and sent his soul force into the injured man¡¯s body, blocking the flow of pain from his injury to his brain. Talon went still and lay back. He sighed. ¡°The pain¡¯s gone.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not gone,¡± Damien said. ¡°I blocked it so you can concentrate. Now focus on healing. The corruption is still spreading. Purge the darkness first, don¡¯t worry about the wound.¡±

    Talon closed his eyes. Soul force flowed from his core down to his leg. His muscles shrank as he pulled every drop of power and sent it to battle the corruption in his leg. The dark lines drew back ever so slowly.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Over the course of three minutes Talon purged the corruption and partly closed his wound. He fell back, covered in sweat, every speck of excess soul force used up.

    ¡°You¡¯ve cleansed the wound. I¡¯m going to restore the link between your leg and brain. Brace yourself.¡±

    Damien removed his barrier and Talon winced, but didn¡¯t thrash or scream. A little blood oozed out of the remaining gash, clean and red, with no sign of infection. Rhys dug a healer¡¯s kit out of his satchel and set to work binding the injury.

    Damien started to get up, but Talon grabbed his sleeve. ¡°Thanks. You saved my life. You were right. That goblin¡¯s spear went through my iron skin like it was nothing. I¡¯ve never felt such pain.¡±

    ¡°Save your strength.¡± He patted Talon¡¯s hand. ¡°You¡¯ve still got healing to do.¡±

    Jen turned to Edward and Alec. ¡°Get a stretcher built. He won¡¯t be walking anywhere for a while.¡±

    Damien left them to their work and walked through the late afternoon shadows toward the goblin¡¯s lair. That demon hadn¡¯t appeared from nowhere. He needed to search the lair for a clue as to its origin.

    He hadn¡¯t taken three steps when Jen grabbed his wrist. ¡°Where are you going?¡±

    ¡°To have a look around.¡± He nodded toward the lair entrance.

    ¡°I¡¯ll come with you. The guys have things under control out here.¡±

    They continued on together. At the mouth of the tunnel Damien conjured a globe of light without breaking stride. He winced at the stench of rot and corruption. He hadn¡¯t expected a goblin lair to smell of perfume, but this was nasty.

    They turned down the short branch to the sleeping chamber. It looked the same as they¡¯d seen through his bug¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Thanks for helping Talon. He might be a jerk, but he¡¯s a good soldier.¡±

    Damien turned back toward the main corridor. ¡°I¡¯m glad I could do something. If John were here he¡¯d have purged that wound and had Talon sealed up in ten minutes.¡±

    ¡°Could he have handled the demon too?¡±

    Damien headed toward the central chamber. ¡°Probably not. The best healers rarely have dense soul force. It lets them refine their power enough to affect a body on the cellular level, but that sort of control doesn¡¯t help much in a fight.¡±

    ¡°If we stumbled on this place alone, could my squad have beaten that demon?¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡±

    She grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. ¡°Tell me the truth.¡±

    Damien looked into his sister¡¯s eyes and saw something he never thought he¡¯d see, doubt and fear. The battle with the demon had shaken her more than he realized. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. The sorcerer would have cut you to pieces while you tried not to get killed by the demon. The goblins, even corrupted as they were, you could have managed. But the demon and sorcerer, with their ability to use external soul force, no.¡±

    Her lips trembled and he thought she might cry. ¡°My decision to attack might have gotten them all killed, might have gotten me killed.¡±

    Damien covered her hand with his. ¡°We¡¯re all okay. The goblins are dead and no longer a threat to the people. You held your own against a demon. Things could have been much worse.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, little brother.¡±

    The central chamber, like every other chamber in the place, was a mess. Damien¡¯s explosion hadn¡¯t helped any. Bits of broken wood mixed with rotted flesh and strips of skin. Damien ignored most of that and went right up to the throne.

    It was a crude thing, roughly built from scraps of wood and bound with leather thongs. It was a wonder it supported the demon¡¯s weight. At its base was a stone slab.

    Damien leaned in for a closer look. On the edge of the slab it looked like someone had engraved runes. He conjured a blast of energy to smash the throne off the slab. On the top of the altar was a carving of a horned skull.

    ¡°What is that?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°A sacrificial altar. A cult of the Horned One must have operated here at one time. The goblins built their lair around the altar. The question is, did the cult summon the demon or did it enter the area on its own?¡±

    ¡°How would you know?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t, but there are sorcerers who specialize in this sort of thing. I¡¯ll report what we found and they¡¯ll send someone out to investigate. But first I have to ward this place so no one wanders in.¡±

    Damien conjured a ball of energy and left it floating in the central chamber. As they walked back out, he put a similar ball in each chamber they passed, linking them together with strands of energy. When they reached the exit he put up a barrier so no one could enter.

    ¡°There. Can you guys make it back to The Citadel on your own?¡±

    Rhys had Talon bandaged up and Edward and Alec were putting the finishing touches on a stretcher. Jen nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll make camp and head back in the morning. Will you return for the festival tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Depends what the masters have to say, but I¡¯ll try.¡± Damien leapt into the sky and flew back towards the tower to report.

    The sun had set when Damien landed in the empty yard outside the tower. He hoped the headmaster would still be in his office as he had no way to get in touch with the high sorcerers on the top floor. The doors opened at his approach; he¡¯d gotten in the habit of opening them unconsciously using his power.

    He turned down the left-hand corridor and found the headmaster¡¯s door closed. He knocked and when there was no response tried the handle and found it locked.

    Damn it! Where could he be?

    He left the administrative area and headed upstairs to the dining room. Perhaps the old man was getting something to eat. He pushed through the double doors and looked around the room. Nothing but students.

    He ground his teeth in frustration. Where else? Ann would know, if he could find her.

    Damien made his way up to the third floor but when he reached her training room found it empty. Cursing the universe in general and teachers in particular, Damien went up to the sixth floor to try her apartment. He knocked on the closed door and after a few seconds, to his immense relief, it opened.

    ¡°Damien?¡± Ann stood in the doorway, dark hair dripping, wearing a short robe that left her legs bare. ¡°I thought you went to see your family.¡±

    ¡°I did. I helped Jen and her squad track down some goblins. Turns out they were led by a demon. We killed it, but inside their lair I found an altar to the Horned One. I couldn¡¯t tell if the demon was summoned there or not, so I came back to report after I warded the lair against intruders.¡±

    ¡°Slow down. You killed a demon? By yourself?¡±

    ¡°Jen helped.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°A little.¡±

    Ann stepped away from the door. ¡°Come in. I need to get dressed then we have to go talk to Thomas.¡±

    Half an hour later found Damien and Ann seated at the headmaster¡¯s coffee table, warm cups of tea in their hands, and Damien repeating his story for the second time. When he finished the headmaster said, ¡°This is troubling news. We¡¯ve seen nothing from the Horned One¡¯s cult in years. I¡¯ll send a team to investigate first thing in the morning.¡±

 1.22

    Damien walked down the familiar black-and-silver hallway towards the dining room. A pair of first-year girls saw him and crossed to the other side of the hall, their eyes wide. He sighed.

    Two months had passed since the demon incident and word had spread that he¡¯d killed it on his own. The reactions to the news varied from fear to awe, with fear being by far the most common.

    Having the people you saw every day regard you as a monster made life awkward to say the least. Even worse, none of the more experienced sorcerers would take him on as an apprentice. He asked everyone he saw and to a person they found some excuse to deny his request.

    Well, he couldn¡¯t do anything about it, so he trained on his own and hoped for the best. The truth was Damien didn¡¯t really know what he wanted to do with his new skills. He had power enough to serve almost anywhere, but he hated the idea of being stuck in a fort somewhere, waiting for trouble to find him. Joining the inquisitors appealed to him. Wandering the kingdom, rooting out corruption, generally helping the people who didn¡¯t have connections among the rich and powerful. Damien couldn¡¯t imagine a more satisfying use for his power.

    He pushed through the dining hall doors and the room fell silent as every gaze focused on him. Damien wanted to shout boo, just to see if they¡¯d flinch. Eli was sitting at the end of one of the benches and waved to him. Damien collected his meal, mystery meat and potatoes covered in gravy, the same as usual, and went to join his friend. The three students seated at Eli¡¯s bench made themselves scarce when Damien arrived.

    ¡°Maybe I should just eat in my room.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t pay any attention to them. Have you heard anything more about the cult?¡±

    Damien sat down. ¡°No one has said anything to me. You¡¯d think since I was the one who discovered them they¡¯d keep me in the loop.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure if there¡¯s any fighting to be done you¡¯ll be the first to hear. What¡¯ve you been doing to keep busy?¡±

    ¡°Practicing on my own. Ann recommended a book on shaping. I¡¯m going to check it out after lunch.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s it about?¡±

    ¡°Shaping materials other than wood and stone. She says working with more complicated materials will help me learn to better control my power.¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Eli shook his head and smiled. ¡°I can barely manage stone and you¡¯re already looking for more complex materials to work with. I¡¯m jealous.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be. At least no one¡¯s terrified of you.¡± Damien hated the bitterness in his voice. He¡¯d thought Sorcery would be different than The Citadel, and it had been. For three wonderful years he was just another student, stronger than average, sure, but nothing extraordinary.

    Now, thanks to the demon incident, he found himself alone most of the time, the other students too uncomfortable to want to be near him. Even Amanda and Jaden treated him like a snake that might bite them if they did something wrong. Only Eli still acted the same as before. They finished their meal in silence, Damien¡¯s bitter comment having spoiled the mood.

    Damien got up to return his plate and Eli grabbed his arm. ¡°You¡¯re joining us tonight for Jaden¡¯s after-testing party, right? We¡¯ll either congratulate or commiserate depending on whether he passes or not.¡±

    ¡°You sure you want me to come? I know I make the others nervous.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. They need to get used to the new reality. It¡¯s one thing to know you¡¯re strong and another to learn you can kill a demon by yourself.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem to bother you.¡±

    Eli offered a rueful grin. ¡°Remember, I saw your unshielded soul force the day you arrived. I¡¯ve had over three years to accept the fact that you terrify me. Give the others some time. They¡¯ll come around.¡±

    Damien laughed. ¡°All right, everyone¡¯s meeting in our room, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and Jaden¡¯s dad is fixing the food. See you tonight.¡±

    Damien nodded, returned his plate to the counter, and went to the library to fetch the book Ann recommended. His quarters were on the eighth floor. As he walked down the silent hall he shook his head. The reason they assigned him this room was because all the other sorcerers living there were out in the field. He essentially had the whole floor to himself. Well, to hell with them, he¡¯d enjoy the peace and quiet.

    The apartments they provided for full sorcerers weren¡¯t much of an improvement on what they gave the students. Same bed, same minimal furniture; the only difference was no roommate and if he wanted to pay for it he could decorate however he wanted. His twenty gold royals a month stipend would buy some nice furniture, but Damien preferred to save his coin. You never knew when the government might decide sorcerers needed a pay cut.

    He kicked his shoes off and plunked down on the narrow, lumpy bed. Perhaps he¡¯d splurge on a nice featherbed at least. The book he¡¯d retrieved from the library had a black leather cover and measured at least two inches thick; not exactly light reading.

    He opened to the table of contents and scanned down the list of chapters. Shaping organics, crystals, living animals and plants. He stopped when he reached the last entry: forging weapons without heat. Damien had read about swords created by a sorcerer using only soul force. Lizzy was soul-forged and her blade was the purest steel in existence.

    Troubles forgotten, Damien flipped to the back of the book and started reading. Jen¡¯s name day was coming in a few months. What would be a better gift than a soul-forged long sword?

 1.23

    Eli sipped cider and wondered when Damien would arrive. Amanda had walked in fifteen minutes ago wearing a typically gaudy orange-and-red dress. She pounced on the plate of little sandwiches Jaden¡¯s dad had prepared for them the moment she spotted it. He didn¡¯t bother scolding her. Amanda did what she wanted regardless of what anyone said. He¡¯d begged a couple of extra chairs from one of the masters so no one would have to sit on a bed.

    They¡¯d decided to have the little party in his room because the masters hadn¡¯t assigned him a new roommate yet. In fact he didn¡¯t expect to get a new roommate this year as they only had three first years and they were all girls. That suited Eli fine as he was an only child and enjoyed being alone. Not that Damien had been a bad roommate, even though he got up every morning at five.

    ¡°Is he coming?¡± Amanda had a half-eaten almond butter sandwich in her left hand and an untouched ham sandwich in her right.

    Eli didn¡¯t need to ask who she meant. ¡°Damien said he¡¯d be here. I didn¡¯t tell him a specific time so we¡¯ll just have to wait and see when he shows up. Try not to act so nervous when he gets here.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t help it! No one should be that powerful. It¡¯s not natural. The fact that he¡¯s also good with a sword makes it worse. Damien could kill you so many different ways it¡¯s terrifying.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say things like that. He¡¯s our friend¡­he¡¯s my friend anyway. John¡¯s not afraid of him, that should tell you something.¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    The door swung open and a stiff, sweat-soaked Jaden stood in the doorway, his round face glistening. Eli was starting to ask if the test was that bad when Damien appeared behind him. If Amanda was nervous around Damien then Jaden was flat-out terrified. Eli couldn¡¯t figure out why since Damien had done nothing remotely aggressive toward either of them. If anything, he stood up for them when Sig picked on them. Maybe to them it was like living next to a volcano; you never knew when it might erupt and when it did you couldn¡¯t do a thing about it.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Eli set his cup down and shook both boys¡¯ hands. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure if you¡¯d make it, Damien.¡±

    Damien smiled. ¡°I got to reading. I wish the tower had windows so I could tell what time it is. I met Jaden on my way downstairs. Tell them the good news.¡±

    Jaden opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat. ¡°I passed.¡±

    Eli grinned and clapped him on the back. ¡°That¡¯s great. Apparently everyone¡¯s going to pass on their first try except me.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t jinx me.¡± Amanda came over with the tray of sandwiches and offered one to Damien. ¡°They¡¯re pretty good.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Damien took a ham sandwich. Eli handed him a mug of cider and he nodded, his mouth too full to speak. When he swallowed he said, ¡°Which disciplines did you choose?¡±

    Jaden sat in an empty chair and sipped cider. ¡°Detection, shaping, healing, and attack.¡±

    Damien raised an eyebrow and Eli knew how he felt. He figured the last skill the shy young sorcerer would choose would be attack. Eli would have guessed shielding.

    Seeing their surprise Jaden offered a weak smile. ¡°Master Zora recommended I do attack over shielding or conjuring since it requires less sustained power.¡± He glanced at Damien. ¡°What book were you reading?¡±

    Damien finished his sandwich and sat across from Jaden. ¡°Advanced shaping. There¡¯s a chapter on soul-forging weapons. Since I have nothing better to do I thought I¡¯d make a sword for my sister¡¯s name day gift.¡±

    Jaden smiled and the tension seemed to melt out of him. ¡°That¡¯s nice. I should shape something for my mom. Her name day is next month.¡±

    The next hour passed with no tension and lots of laughs. Damien yawned and asked, ¡°Do you have a master lined up?¡±

    Jaden nodded. ¡°I volunteered to do a one-year posting on Lookout Island. The master there knows how to shape a viewer powerful enough to let you see a hundred miles away. I want to learn that conjuring. Besides, nothing ever happens out there. That¡¯s the sort of job for me.¡±

    Damien grinned and everyone stood. They all shook hands and somehow Amanda made off with the leftovers. How did she eat so much and still remain so tiny? When the others had gone he and Damien stood by the door.

    ¡°Thanks for this,¡± Damien said. ¡°I think they¡¯re a little more comfortable with me now. When I met Jaden on the stairs I was afraid he might have a heart attack before we got here.¡±

    Eli smiled, glad he could ease a little of his friend¡¯s worry. ¡°It was fun. I think when you mentioned your sister it reminded everyone that you¡¯re just a regular guy who has a huge soul force. Good luck with her sword.¡±

    Damien started down the hall, his step lighter than Eli had seen it since before the demon. He threw a wave over his shoulder and Eli thought Damien would be okay after all.

 1.24

    Damien flew towards the Crimson Caldera. After the get-together he felt better than he had in a while and he¡¯d slept like the dead. He woke up rested and eager to get started on his project. He¡¯d left the tower at first light hoping to make the long journey in one day. Noon had come and gone an hour ago along with any chance of getting home before nightfall. Below him the mountains of the Crescent Range sped by.

    Situated in the northeast corner of the kingdom, the Crimson Caldera took its name from the red-scaled drakes that nested on the lip of the pit. In the bottom magma bubbled, providing the heat necessary to hatch the great winged lizards¡¯ eggs. What drew Damien to the inhospitable place was a report in the library that said a meteorite had struck the caldera a decade ago and no one had gone to collect it for fear of the drakes.

    Meteoric iron was the purest in the kingdom and he wanted to get enough to make Jen¡¯s sword. A shimmer of heat rose from the pit and Damien angled toward it. Though it was still August, this far north it was already getting chilly. It felt like they¡¯d have a bad winter this year. He was eager to slice off a chunk of iron and head back.

    Along the rim of the pit sat half a dozen stone nests formed from boulders as big as Damien was tall. Three of the nests held mature female fire drakes, their dull red scales, small head crests, and forty-foot length separating them from their brighter, smaller mates. Damien wrapped himself in invisibility. If the females were sitting on their nests they must have eggs and he certainly didn¡¯t want to anger a nesting drake.

    He flew over the pit. Down in the bubbling magma, bobbing like a cork on a pond, floated the meteorite. It was twice as big as his head and glowed cherry red. Damien conjured a thin disk of energy, set it to spinning, and launched it toward the chunk of iron.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    It hit with a wicked shriek and started cutting into the metal. On their nests the drakes screamed and arched their necks toward the sky. Guess they don¡¯t like the noise. He didn¡¯t blame them, the blade squeaked worse than nails on slate.

    A bright red shape hurtled down out of the sky, missing Damien by a couple feet. The male drake rushed toward the cutting blade, intent on killing whatever was bothering his mate. Its wings snapped open a five feet from the magma and it lashed out with a talon.

    The black claw hit Damien¡¯s disk and got sliced off. The drake shrieked and swooped around for another pass.

    Stupid beast, it couldn¡¯t hurt his blade. It could only cut up its talons. Damien poured more power into the blade, hoping to get the metal he needed before the drake finished wheeling around for another pass.

    The increased speed of the blade¡¯s rotation made the screeching even louder, prompting the drakes to scream at greater volume. Damien conjured ear covers before he went deaf. The male finished its turn and once again dove at the blade, this time with its fanged mouth leading.

    Not good.

    The beast was about to lose its bottom jaw. He didn¡¯t want to hurt the drake; he just wanted to get the iron.

    Damien wrapped the drake in soul force and sent it plunging into the magma. It flopped around, annoyed but unharmed by the intense heat.

    His blade finished cutting and the small chunk of iron slipped into the magma. Silence fell in the caldera, much to his relief. He formed a bubble of soul force around the small chunk and lifted it out of the magma. On a whim he grabbed the sliced-off talon as well. It might make a nice pommel for the sword.

    Damien flew off with his prize and when he was a safe distance away released the male drake. The creature roared, trumpeting its victory over the now-vanished blade.

 1.25

    Damien focused on the lump of iron sitting on the heavy table he¡¯d dragged up to his room. He¡¯d already removed all the impurities, leaving behind nothing but clean metal. Now he had to shape it.

    He inserted his power into the ore and felt the molecules of iron. They seemed jumbled up, going every which way. Before he aligned them he needed to mold the lump into a blade. Pushing, pulling and stretching, Damien slowly coaxed the metal into a rough bar.

    He gasped and let his focus lapse. He¡¯d used three quarters of his power and all he had to show for it was a bar of metal. Better than a lump, but he still had a long way to go. Damien leaned back in his chair and wiped the sweat from his brow. He hadn¡¯t even moved and look at him: sweat drenched his body and his limbs were trembling. It might have been less work to beat the metal into shape at a forge. Of course, that wouldn¡¯t help him improve his shaping technique.

    For the next two weeks Damien labored on the blade from the time he got up in the morning until he went to bed at night. He¡¯d gotten it shaped into a proper blade, albeit a blunt, unbalanced one. He was about to dive back into his work when he heard steps outside in the hall. Who could be visiting him up here? Ann was the only one he knew that might, and she should be training her new student.

    Curious, Damien went to the door and poked his head out into the hall. A woman he didn¡¯t recognize stood two doors up from him, a glowing key in the air in front of her. She must be one of his floormates back from assignment.

    Maybe she hadn¡¯t heard about his adventure with the demon. If he got her to commit to taking him as an apprentice before she found out he could finally start his fieldwork.

    He darted out the door and strode toward her. ¡°Excuse me. I¡¯m¡ª¡±

    ¡°The demon slayer, I heard.¡± She turned to face him. Her hair was going gray and fine wrinkles lined her face. Despite her apparent age her gaze was firm and she stood straight and tall.

    On the inside he winced, but he let nothing show on his face. ¡°That¡¯s been completely blown out of proportion.¡±

    She laughed at that. ¡°Kid, there¡¯s no way the statement ¡®he killed a demon all by himself¡¯ can be blown out of proportion. If you did it, you did it. There¡¯s no other way to say it. Did you do it?¡±

    He hung his head. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. I didn¡¯t set out to, it just sort of happened. I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯re looking for an apprentice?¡±

    ¡°No, and even if I was, there¡¯d be no point in me choosing you. On my best day I wouldn¡¯t last ten seconds against a demon, even a weak one. If you killed one at your age, with such limited experience, you¡¯re at a different level than me. I wouldn¡¯t know where to begin teaching you. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°Thanks anyway. At least it¡¯ll be nice to have some company up here.¡±

    ¡°I doubt I¡¯ll be good company. After three months in the field without a break, I plan to sleep then sleep some more. I¡¯m Maria von Kade.¡± She held out a hand.

    ¡°Damien St. Cloud.¡± They shook and he left Maria to her rest.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.After yet another rejection he didn¡¯t feel like working on the sword anymore. In fact he didn¡¯t feel like staying in the tower. He needed to get out. Damien went to the stairwell and flew down to the sixth floor to see if Ann had finished her training for the day.

    He knocked on her closed door and it opened a few seconds later. Ann smiled and leaned against the door frame. ¡°Everything all right, Damien?¡±

    ¡°I need a change of scenery. Have you had dinner yet?¡±

    ¡°No, I just finished my lessons a little while ago. What did you have in mind?¡±

    ¡°Dinner at the Dancing Pony, my treat.¡±

    She beamed. ¡°A date with my favorite student, how lovely. Let me get my cloak.¡±

    Damien started to say it wasn¡¯t a date, but she had disappeared back into her apartment. She returned a moment later wrapped in a midnight-blue cloak. They left the tower and Damien flew them to the little town just down the road.

    The founders, creative souls that they were, named the place Tower Town. Most of the commerce revolved around supplying the tower with everything it needed to function, mainly food and other mundane supplies. Several inns and taverns catered to the visitors that had business with the masters, along with sorcerers that got sick of the food in the dining hall.

    When they landed in the packed dirt street just outside the Dancing Pony, the finest inn the village had to offer, no one spared them so much as a second glance. It spoke to how often sorcerers visited Tower Town that two people landing in the middle of the street didn¡¯t rate so much as a pause in stride.

    The Dancing Pony was a two-story inn with a dining room on the first floor and rooms for rent on the second. You could find a similar building in every town in the kingdom just about. Damien held the door for Ann then closed it behind them. Half a dozen people sat in the common room. They had beaten the dinner rush which suited Damien fine. He wasn¡¯t much in the mood for noise or crowds.

    A fire blazed in the fireplace taking the chill off the cool night. They found a table near the hearth and Damien helped Ann take her cloak off. The waitress came over to take their order then left them alone.

    ¡°So what¡¯s the matter? You never want to go out.¡±

    Damien slumped in his chair. ¡°I¡¯m sick of being turned down. Every sorcerer I talk to is unwilling to take a chance on me. What are they afraid of?¡±

    ¡°Some are afraid you¡¯ll show them up, and others honestly don¡¯t know how best to help you. You just have to be patient. Eventually you¡¯ll find the right mentor.¡±

    ¡°I guess. Has anyone ever quit before? Just given up on the whole damn thing?¡±

    Ann¡¯s normally cheerful face went dark as she frowned. ¡°A few quit every decade, moving on to work for merchants traveling through rough country, or going off to explore some distant corner of the kingdom, but most sorcerers consider it an honor to serve on the front lines, protecting the people. The ones that choose to leave the crown¡¯s service still keep in touch with The Tower to remain in good standing with the government.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know about the ones that go into private service. I mean has anyone left it all behind, just vanished and made a new life having nothing to do with sorcery?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not something we advertise, but it happens. Since the school¡¯s founding less than ten sorcerers have vanished. Most left the kingdom, but there are a handful we¡¯ve lost track of entirely. Those are the ones we fear the most. If they¡¯re hiding it¡¯s probably because they¡¯re up to no good. The most recent was sixteen years ago, a young man named Connor Blackman fled ahead of a group of sorcerers coming to arrest him on charges of trafficking with demons. No one knows where he went after that. It¡¯s like he just disappeared.¡±

    They finished their meal in silence. Damien couldn¡¯t stop wondering what would happen if he decided to run away. Would they send a group of sorcerers to kill him rather than let him go? It wasn¡¯t the sort of thing he liked to think about. He understood the masters¡¯ point of view. It would be horrible for all sorcerers to have a rogue running around doing whatever he liked.

    After dinner they flew back to the tower and Damien walked Ann to her apartment. They stopped outside her door. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I wasn¡¯t very good company tonight.¡±

    She smiled and patted his cheek. ¡°That¡¯s okay. Are you feeling better?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not planning on running away if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking. I¡¯ll finish Jen¡¯s sword and if I still haven¡¯t found someone willing to take a chance on me, I¡¯ll try to convince the high sorcerers to assign someone.¡±

 1.26

    Damien focused on the edge of his sister¡¯s sword. It was already sharp enough to shave with, but he wanted to get the edge a little finer, make it a little harder so it lasted longer. He¡¯d been working on it almost nonstop for the last two months. The balance was flawless, the blade strong and flexible. It wasn¡¯t as polished as Lizzy, but Damien didn¡¯t think you¡¯d find a better weapon anywhere in the kingdom. Even the fire drake talon he¡¯d set in the pommel looked like it was meant to be there.

    Fine grains of iron fell to the tabletop as he ran his soul force along the edge. He made ten more passes before he felt certain he couldn¡¯t get it any sharper. He lifted the sword and wiped a cloth along the blade to remove any remaining iron filings. The hilt felt warm in his hand. According to the book that was because he¡¯d put so much of his soul force in the iron a little had remained behind. That was one of the unique properties of a soul-forged blade. He would also be able to sense it anywhere in the world.

    He made a couple of swings, careful not to damage any of his room¡¯s minimal furnishings. Satisfied with his creation Damien placed it in the cherry wood box he¡¯d had the carpenter in town build. The sword nestled down into the crushed velvet lining, the deep-gray metal stark against the red cloth. Like Ann said, black and red were the colors for battle.

    He hoped Jen liked it. The hasp clicked shut and he tucked her gift under his arm. He was eager to see her reaction and, since he had nothing else to do, he decided he¡¯d take it to her right now. He could fly to The Citadel in time to have lunch with her.

    Damien left his apartment, flew down to the first floor, and went out onto the steps. It was only mid October, but a foot of snow covered the grass and the guards huddled under thick cloaks. Sunlight reflected off the snow forcing him to narrow his eyes. This was the time of year when the guards earned their money. At each corner of the wall a brazier burned so they could warm themselves as they walked the perimeter. Most of them spent more time standing around the fire talking than they did patrolling.

    Damien shook his head. No one had yet explained to him why they even bothered with guards on the wall. He still leaned toward it being some sort of punishment.

    He expanded his shield so it was six inches away from his skin then vibrated the air trapped between his skin and the shield, creating a pocket of warm air around his body. He couldn¡¯t raise his body temperature like a warlord, but this was a good alternative. He leapt into the air and turned toward home.

    A few hundred yards from the tower he increased his speed, pushing with everything he had. The ground became a blur of white and green. He wished he had some way to measure his speed.

    Half an hour later The Citadel came into view; a new personal record. If he kept practicing he might make the trip in fifteen minutes. Below him in the training yard tiny figures ran around, carrying parcels. Saddled horses pawed the ground outside the stables and no one was training.

    What the hell was going on? He remembered training in snow twice this deep.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    He landed beside the door, not bothering with the official landing zone. A pair of first years brushed past without seeming to notice him. Inside, students and full warlords jammed the entry hall. They stood talking in clusters, the unsteady flow of their soul force revealing their anxiety.

    Some wore travel gear and had their weapons belted on. Many of the younger ones looked nervous. Damien saw no sign of Jen. He ran up the steps and down the hall to their quarters, hoping to find her.

    He knocked once and pushed the door open. ¡°Sis? Dad? Anybody here?¡±

    Jen emerged from her room. She wore her standard slashed blue tunic and pants, her sword jutted up behind her head and a rucksack was slung over her shoulder. ¡°Damien? What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°I brought you your name day present early and I thought we might have lunch together. It looks like I came at a bad time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll say. Haven¡¯t you heard? The Ice Queen¡¯s army is on the move. General Kord expects to make contact within the next couple of weeks. Eight squads are being deployed to help and another ten are going to handle any stragglers that slip through the line.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad I got here before you left. If you¡¯re going into battle my gift will come in handy.¡± He held the five-foot box out to her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have time.¡±

    ¡°Please. You won¡¯t regret it, I promise.¡±

    Jen set her bag down, took the box, and opened it. She gasped when she saw what was inside. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful. Damien, how did you afford this?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t buy it, I made it. It¡¯s soul-forged from meteoric iron. Took me two months to craft it.¡±

    Jen removed the long sword from the box. ¡°It¡¯s amazing. The handle¡¯s warm.¡±

    Damien explained about how a bit of his soul force remained in the blade after he finished with it. ¡°Even when we¡¯re apart a little bit of me will always be with you.¡±

    She set the sword and box on the kitchen counter and hugged him. ¡°Best present ever. Thanks, little brother. But now I¡¯ve really got to go.¡±

    She replaced her old sword with his soul-forged blade, put the box and her old sword on the couch, and started toward the door.

    ¡°Got room in your squad for one more?¡±

    Jen looked over her shoulder. ¡°You volunteering?¡±

    ¡°The masters have me sitting around the tower sucking my thumb. Maybe I can do some good up north.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have any gear or weapons.¡±

    Damien let a little power blaze around his body. ¡°I am a weapon, and anything else I need I can scrounge up in camp.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m convinced. After that business with the demon I¡¯m sure the guys won¡¯t complain. Come on.¡±

    They left The Citadel and walked around to the stables. Jen¡¯s squad was readying their horses. The scene reminded Damien of when they¡¯d gone hunting the goblins, only this time forty other warlords readied their mounts all around them.

    ¡°Guys,¡± Jen said when they were close enough. ¡°We¡¯ve got an extra recruit. I trust no one will complain if my little brother rides with us again.¡±

    Unlike last time, smiles and handshakes greeted Damien, none warmer than from Talon who walked without even a limp after his close encounter with the goblin spear. A horse appeared beside Damien and he climbed aboard. ¡°Where¡¯s Dad?¡±

    Jen swung up onto her own horse and nudged it over beside him. ¡°The king called him back to the capital to take command of the reinforcements in case our line breaks.¡±

    ¡°How many did the Ice Queen send south?¡±

    ¡°Word from the scouts is twenty thousand mixed ogres and ice trolls along with a hundred strong frost giant artillery. It looks like she¡¯s serious this time.¡±

    Damien frowned. ¡°Damn. That¡¯s more than last time, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°A lot more. That¡¯s why we¡¯re heading north. Eight squads of warlords can make a big difference. Rumor is they¡¯re ordering fifteen sorcerers to help as well.¡±

    Damien nodded. Fifteen sorcerers would make an even bigger difference. He hadn¡¯t heard about it, but that didn¡¯t surprise him. Nobody told him anything. Still, twenty thousand was a lot of monsters.

 1.27

    John bustled around the healers¡¯ tent, a chest filled with healing potions clutched in his arms. Cots filled the bulk of the tent. Empty for the moment, and everyone hoped they¡¯d stay that way, but even John knew better. Four nurses sat in a circle bundling bandages and chatting about husbands or lovers, offering prayers that everyone would make it through the battle safely. John sighed. You¡¯d have thought there¡¯d be at least one single nurse.

    He¡¯d arrived the day before with his father, the other healers, and the general¡¯s support staff. The bulk of the army had arrived and set up camp ten days earlier, but Duke Iceborn wanted to discuss every fine point of strategy with the general and, despite his disdain for the duke, Dad was enough of a politician to keep his opinion to himself on the cusp of a war.

    And they were on the cusp. John had read the scouts¡¯ reports and it sounded like the Ice Queen planned to send the largest army in several generations against them. If Dad had suffered from boredom in years past he certainly wasn¡¯t now.

    ¡°John!¡± Master Kane, the army¡¯s chief healer and John¡¯s mentor for the past year and a half, shouted at him from the tent flap.

    John set his burden down on a cot and jogged over to the gray-bearded sorcerer. ¡°Master?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve got wounded just over the border, let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± John conjured a shield and stepped out into the cold.

    Despite the protection he shivered. Wind and snow blew out of the north, a bitter chill that wore on the men and sapped their strength. John spent an hour every day tending frostbitten soldiers. The couple hundred warlords handled the cold easily enough, but the ordinary men suffered.

    John narrowed his gaze and spotted the familiar wisps of blue soul force threaded through the wind and snow, remnants of the Ice Queen¡¯s power driving the storm on. Maybe when the main force of sorcerers arrived they could shield the camp from the worst of the weather.

    Master Kane conjured a chariot and John stepped up beside him. The master¡¯s shield blocked the storm and they shot into the air. ¡°What happened, Master?¡±

    ¡°Scouts on their way back ran into an ambush. One man made it through uninjured and ran for help: that¡¯s us. The others were alive when he left, but in no condition to move. The cold will work for us today. Remember, just get them stabilized enough to move. We¡¯ll handle the rest in camp.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± John shivered, but not from the cold. He seldom left the relative safety of camp. His soul force wasn¡¯t dense like Damien¡¯s. If something went wrong and he had to fight, his power wouldn¡¯t hold out very long.

    Below them white spread out as far as he could see, broken by the occasional spot of green where a spruce hadn¡¯t been covered up. He scanned ahead, looking for some sign of the wounded soldiers. First, he looked for red, as the blood from a large battle would show up well in the snow, but he soon gave that up for a fool¡¯s errand. The way it was storming any sign of battle would vanish in minutes.

    The chariot veered right and descended. John saw nothing remarkable, but Master Kane must. Halfway to the ground a huge ice boulder came flying out of nowhere. Master Kane veered and John blasted, and between the two of them they avoided the missile. Below them a twenty-foot-tall, blue-skinned frost giant shimmered into view. It wore armor made of ice and between its raised hands another boulder of ice took shape.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°Did you know they could turn invisible?¡± John readied another blast, but held it in reserve. He doubted he had enough power to kill the giant and he wanted to be able to help turn aside any missiles that came their way.

    Master Kane sent a blast at the giant that blew his half-formed boulder to bits. ¡°Yes, but I figured I could still spot its soul force. Join your power with mine and we¡¯ll attack together.¡±

    John sent half his soul force to a point just in front of the chariot, and the master¡¯s power appeared an instant later and entwined with his. Master Kane formed the attack while John provided power. A golden lightning bolt lanced down at the giant.

    The bolt struck its icy armor and shattered it. The armor served its purpose, slowing their blast enough that the giant had time to dive to the side and avoid the worst of the attack. The only damage they inflicted was a deep crease along its ribs.

    The giant staggered to its feet and raised both hands. Shards of ice shot up at them, shattering against the chariot¡¯s underside.

    Master Kane grimaced and sent more power to reinforce his construct. John hated to leave the wounded, but he was about to suggest retreating before they ended up needing rescuing as well.

    Man, he wished Damien was here.

    ¡°We need to hit it again,¡± Master Kane said.

    ¡°I¡¯m only good for one more, Master.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll have to be enough.¡±

    John joined most of his remaining power to Master Kane¡¯s. This time the master conjured a golden dragon and sent it swooping down at the giant. When the giant tried to dodge, Master Kane adjusted his construct¡¯s path and drove its claws into the giant¡¯s wounded side.

    The construct got a secure grip and the master sent a pulse of energy through the dragon and detonated it. When the snow settled all that remained were a pair of blue-skinned legs.

    Panting, John bent over and urged his soul force to recover faster. That had been too close. The chariot descended and he straightened up. Below them, leaning on a spruce, a soldier with a bandaged leg waved. Master Kane landed the chariot and allowed it to vanish after they climbed down.

    ¡°Lucky you came when you did,¡± the injured soldier said. ¡°I thought that giant was going to squish us.¡±

    John bent down to examine the man¡¯s leg, but was waved off. ¡°Check the others first. They¡¯re all hurt worse than me.¡±

    He left the wounded man where he stood and went deeper into the small stand of evergreens. The coppery tang of blood and moans from the wounded reached him at about the same time. Soldiers lay on cloaks thrown over the snow. Five men and two women clutched wounds and in one unfortunate fellow¡¯s case, the stump of his right arm.

    John had studied and thought himself prepared for the aftermath of a battle, but this was worse than he imagined. None of the wounded were warlords so they wouldn¡¯t heal quickly on their own.

    Forcing himself to work through the nausea, John went to the man with the stump first, leaving a nasty stomach wound for his mentor.

    ¡°So what happened?¡± John asked the grimacing man. He insinuated his soul force into the man¡¯s body and blocked the flow of pain. A sigh of relief passed the man¡¯s lips.

    ¡°Ice trolls happened. They dug themselves in under the snow. We didn¡¯t have a clue until ten of them burst out of the ground all around us. Just damn lucky we had numbers on our side or they would have killed us all. As it was we lost over half the patrol and the rest of us are hardly in any shape to fight.¡±

    While he talked John sealed veins and accelerated regeneration of muscle and skin over the stump to prevent infection. He frowned and burned away a nasty spot of bacteria, probably left over from the troll¡¯s spit. A quick scan of the rest of the man¡¯s body showed no other injuries or infections.

    He squeezed the soldier¡¯s remaining hand. ¡°You¡¯re going to make it.¡±

    John and Master Kane spent an hour tending the wounded before loading everyone on a soul force wagon and flying back to camp. If this was what they had to look forward to it would be an especially ugly war.

 1.28

    Two weeks of hard riding found Damien and the others at the edge of the northern army¡¯s war camp. Hundreds of tents sprawled along the length of a river valley. A cloud of wood smoke rising from the camp made a dark gray day even darker, so many fires burned to keep the regular warriors warm. The scent of burning pine reached them even from a mile away.

    He felt bad for them, huddled around their fires, trying to keep warm while they waited for an eight-foot-tall monster to try to take their heads off. The only good thing about a winter camp was it kept the stink to a minimum.

    Damien and his companions only bothered with a fire when they set up camp to enjoy a hot meal. Both warlords and sorcerers could keep themselves warm through the use of soul force. The warlords sped up their metabolism to generate heat, and Damien simply heated the surrounding air to a temperature he found comfortable. It took such a tiny portion of his power he didn¡¯t think twice about the effort.

    The other squads had fallen a day behind as they didn¡¯t have Damien to create a road above the snow for them to ride on. They had to resort to forcing their horses to plow through ever-deeper drifts of snow the farther north they went. If the other members of Jen¡¯s squad hadn¡¯t already gotten to like him, the fact that he could keep them out of the snow would have made him their best friend.

    The squad reined in at a checkpoint half a mile out from the camp. ¡°Halt and name yourself.¡± What Damien had initially thought was a snowman spoke and raised a snow-covered spear.

    Jen urged her mount a little closer, forcing Damien to extend his platform so her horse wouldn¡¯t sink in up to its knees like the unfortunate soldier. ¡°I¡¯m Jennifer St. Cloud and this is my squad, reporting as ordered.¡±

    The guard lowered his spear. ¡°Where are the rest of the squads and how is your horse standing on top of the snow?¡±

    ¡°The others are about a day behind us and my brother¡¯s a sorcerer.¡±

    Damien waved at the guard. The poor snow-covered guy just stared at him. Perhaps he¡¯d never seen a sorcerer before.

    ¡°Can we go?¡± Jen asked. ¡°I imagine General Kord is anxious for us to report in.¡±

    The guard scrambled out of their way and waved them through. They rode past the still-staring guard. Damien smiled at him as he rode his conjured horse past, but got no reaction. On closer inspection Damien guessed the guard was about his age and someone had probably assigned him to guard their rear line to keep him away from the fighting. He always knew John¡¯s father was a good guy and this was more proof of it.

    They reached the first of the tents and Damien let his portable road vanish. Some unfortunate had shoveled the area down to the dirt allowing them to move around without trudging through snow. Jen led them toward the center of camp where a tent twice the size of Damien¡¯s quarters back at the tower waited, a flag with a snow-covered mountain crossed with a claymore flapping in the breeze above it. Was the duke in camp or was he leaving it to General Kord?This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    When they arrived, two young men standing outside the command tent rushed over to collect their horses. Damien waved them off and reabsorbed the energy from his mount. The pages were younger than Damien, but they didn¡¯t give the squad a second look. Stationed outside the command tent they probably saw all sorts of unusual people come and go. The boys led the horses off to the temporary stable.

    Jen brushed the tent flap to one side and led the way in. A huge table covered with a map of the Northlands dominated the central chamber of the tent. General Kord stood beside it, talking with a soldier who dripped on the floor as the snow melted off his uniform, and adjusting the positions of models representing the Ice Queen¡¯s troops. Jen, Damien, and the rest of the squad stood with their hands clasped behind their backs, waiting for the general to finish with what Damien assumed was a scout.

    Finally the scout bowed to the general and brushed past them back out into the cold. General Kord noticed them standing by the tent flap and smiled. ¡°Jennifer, and Damien too, this is a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in, no need to be so formal.¡±

    They approached the map and bowed. John¡¯s father was a big, broad-shouldered man, with a thick beard, dark hair and hard green eyes. He looked nothing like his son, who very much favored his mother. The general came around to their side and hugged Jen when she straightened. He shook hands with Damien and nodded to the rest of the squad.

    ¡°Reporting for duty, sir,¡± Jen said.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure your father would send you. Well, I guess everyone¡¯s got to fight their first war sometime.¡± The general turned to Damien. ¡°Where¡¯s your mentor? You were a year behind John so you can¡¯t be acting alone yet.¡±

    ¡°I was visiting Jen and tagged along. I can¡¯t seem to find a mentor and we did good work together this summer, so I thought I could lend a hand.¡±

    ¡°I heard. Killed a demon, impressive. Still, you¡¯d best report to the sorcerers¡¯ commander after we finish here. I wouldn¡¯t want to step on her toes.¡±

    Damien nodded. He¡¯d check in, but whatever the woman said, he had no intention of letting his sister face whatever was waiting out there without him.

    ¡°What¡¯s the situation, sir?¡± Jen asked.

    General Kord returned to the map and the rest of them gathered around. He pointed out two model ogres a few miles north of the kingdom¡¯s border. ¡°They¡¯ve divided their army. Half will attack through Frozen Hell pass and the other half are climbing up and over an ice ridge here. We have to defend the pass, but we need to keep enough men in reserve to handle the force climbing the ridge.¡±

    Jen pointed at another gap in the mountains. ¡°What about this one?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve seen no activity in the middle gap. My guess is they¡¯re trying to spread us out. That¡¯s a new trick. Maybe the dragon isn¡¯t as stupid as we hoped. This is the first time she¡¯s divided her army, usually they try to overwhelm us with numbers at one of the passes.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s our assignment going to be?¡± Jen asked.

    General Kord pointed at six white circles ten miles behind the enemy¡¯s line. ¡°Our sorcerers spotted these supply depots while long range scouting. Food and weapons are gathered there before going on to the monsters on the front line. I want your squad to destroy them. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯ll slow them down much, the ice trolls fight with their claws anyway, but if we can eliminate their food supply it might make them desperate enough to make a mistake.¡±

    ¡°Understood. When do we leave?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too late in the day to go now,¡± the general said. ¡°Why don¡¯t you find a tent, get a hot meal and a good night¡¯s sleep, and head out first thing in the morning.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Jen said. ¡°Where might we find an empty tent?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea. Ask the pages out front, one of them can help you.¡±

    ¡°Where are the sorcerers camped?¡± Damien asked. He wanted to get the meeting over with so he could focus on the task at hand.

    ¡°When you go out take a right and go until you see the big blue tents. That¡¯s them.¡±

 1.29

    Damien parted ways with his sister and her squad and headed toward the sorcerers¡¯ tents. As he walked he considered how best to approach whoever was in charge. He¡¯d be polite but firm. Damien wanted to help and he had the power to make a difference.

    The six blue-dyed tents looked pretty near identical to those used by the rest of the army. Unfortunately that made it hard to figure out which one was the command tent. A dark-haired girl in her mid twenties with no visible soul force dressed in a dark-blue tunic and pants left one of the tents.

    Damien sighed and jogged after her. ¡°Excuse me.¡±

    The sorcerer turned back to face him. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m looking for the commander. Can you help me out?¡±

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Her gray eyes narrowed. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you around camp.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m Damien St. Cloud. I arrived with my sister an hour ago. General Kord sent me to check in.¡±

    Her narrow eyes went wide. ¡°You killed the demon. I didn¡¯t realize you¡¯d been assigned here. The commander¡¯s tent is there.¡± She pointed at a tent a little ways down the row. It had a plaque with a black tower carved on it above the flap. How had he missed that?

    ¡°Thanks.¡± He left the gaping sorcerer where she stood and jogged over to the command tent.

    Some tents had a board outside for visitors to knock on, but not this one. He shrugged, brushed the flap open, and ducked inside. A pale woman with white-blond hair sat at a table with two male sorcerers. The woman looked like the master that had served as Sig¡¯s second in their duel. They fell silent and looked up at Damien.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Hi. I¡¯m Damien St. Cloud. General Kord sent me to check in.¡±

    The men muttered amongst themselves and he picked out the words demon slayer. Was that the first thing everyone he met would say? The woman hissed and the men fell silent. ¡°Why are you here?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I thought I could help. I¡¯ve fought with my sister¡¯s squad before and we did good work. This seemed like an opportunity to do that again.¡±

    The woman¡¯s pale lips turned down in a frown. ¡°My sister spoke of you. You embarrassed my lord¡¯s son in a duel. For that insult alone I should send you back to the tower.¡±

    ¡°I saved Sig¡¯s life,¡± Damien said. Annoyed by the woman¡¯s attitude he went on. ¡°He thought he knew how to fight. With his meager skills he was liable to get killed in a real fight. I showed him the truth. Where¡¯s the insult in that?¡±

    She stood up; the woman was easily as tall as Jen, with a slender, boyish figure. ¡°You have no mentor and no place here.¡±

    Damien walked deeper into the tent. If she thought he¡¯d just walk away on her say-so she¡¯d miscalculated. ¡°I don¡¯t have a mentor because none of the more experienced sorcerers have the guts to take on an apprentice more powerful than them. I¡¯ve been sitting on my hands for four months waiting to find someone with the stones to work with me. Now there¡¯s a war on and you want me to go home and sit around some more?¡±

    She stepped around the table and soul force gathered around her. ¡°What do you think you can do that we can¡¯t?¡±

    Damien gathered his own power, enough to make the tent shake. ¡°Nothing, but since when is having an extra set of hands a bad thing in war? I¡¯m not planning to sit around camp getting in your way. I¡¯m going out with my sister in the morning. Just pretend you never saw me. Every ogre I kill is one less for you to deal with.¡±

    She spun away from him and released her power. ¡°Do what you will. I don¡¯t care.¡± She dismissed him with the back of her hand.

    Damien reclaimed his power, bowed to her back, and left.

 1.30

    When they crossed the border it felt like the temperature dropped twenty degrees. The wind blew waves of loose snow, obscuring their vision beyond forty feet. The Ice Queen¡¯s magic controlled the weather, hindering her enemies and aiding her own forces. Only a dragon had that much power. The kingdom was fortunate she¡¯d never come against them herself. If that ever changed he feared for their survival.

    They¡¯d been running at a brisk pace all morning, Damien¡¯s power allowing them to travel on the surface of the snow. They¡¯d seen no signs of ogres or ice trolls; the general¡¯s information looked good. If he was right about the locations of the supply depots it would make their jobs a lot easier. Hunting around in a blizzard would be a miserable process.

    ¡°Can anyone tell where the hell we are?¡± Talon asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± Jen squinted into the wind. ¡°But we¡¯ve got to be within a mile of the first depot.¡±

    ¡°Want me to see if I can find it?¡± Damien asked.

    Jen nodded and Damien conjured a remote viewing construct. Instead of a bug this time he conjured an invisible sphere and sent it flying in the direction they believed the depot lay. The rest of the squad gathered around to watch. For several minutes the only images the sphere sent back were white and empty. As Damien guided it through the empty terrain he passed something dark.

    With a thought he moved it back. The dark object turned out to be the head of an ogre. Beyond the ogre several large tents sat in a clearing free of wind and snow. The orb circled the clearing revealing seven more ogres guarding the tents. They had found the depot. Jen clapped him on the shoulder.

    Following the link to his orb, Damien led the squad to their target. They crouched forty yards away from the clearing. It looked like someone had set up an invisible wall blocking the storm.

    It wasn¡¯t fair.

    Still, the blowing snow made for good cover, allowing them to approach without the ogres noticing. Jen used hand gestures to direct her squad to surround the depot.

    ¡°What should I do?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Wait here and keep your eyes open. We can handle eight ogres. I just don¡¯t want anything sneaking up on us.¡±

    She waited a full minute, let out a shrill whistle, and charged, drawing her sword as she went. Damien stepped out of the storm to better watch. Before he got clear of the wind the first ogre lay in two pieces in the snow, staining it red. Their speed and strength enhanced by soul force, the warlords finished the guards in less than a minute. It was an impressive bit of work. The power of a warlord never ceased to amaze Damien.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    He ambled into the clearing in time to see Jen flick the blood off her sword and slip it into the sheath on her back.

    ¡°How did it work?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Like a dream. It cut through them with hardly any resistance.¡±

    Talon slashed open one of the tents, revealing rows of heavy spears standing upright in wooden racks. The next tent held slabs of meat¡ªno one wanted to inquire too closely about type¡ªhanging from what looked like a clothesline. They tore open the other tents and found either weapons or food in each of them.

    ¡°What now?¡± Edward asked. ¡°We can¡¯t exactly make a fire out in the snow.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll handle it.¡± Damien conjured bubbles around the tents and yanked them together in the center of the clearing, merging the bubbles into one. He drew a heavy portion of soul force and squeezed. The bubble shrank to the size of a large boulder, crushing everything inside and fusing it together in a solid mass. The bubble shifted, turning into a catapult with the crushed supplies as the stone. Damien launched the mass out into the storm where it vanished.

    He dusted off his hands, reabsorbed the leftover energy, and grinned. ¡°All done. Where¡¯s the next depot?¡±

    They set out for the next target but it was too far away to reach before dark. They made camp in the storm. Talon found a stand of spruces that cut the wind a little and Damien augmented it with an invisible barrier that blocked both the wind and the light of the little fire they made from dry branches broken off the nearby trees.

    Damien reclined on a bed of soul force while Rhys fixed them a warm meal, the savory scent of simmering meat mixing with the smoke from the fire. It was nice, feeling like part of a group. His solitary studies at the tower and later spending months alone forging Jen¡¯s sword had denied him that camaraderie. He hadn¡¯t realized how much he missed being part of a team.

    Jen came over and he conjured a replica of the couch in their quarters for her to sit on. She sprawled on it, one leg hanging over the arm. ¡°You have a thoughtful look, little brother.¡±

    ¡°Just enjoying the moment. I never realized how much sorcerers did alone. I think I prefer being part of a team.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°That¡¯s left over from your time at The Citadel. Warlords are trained to fight for the person beside them. When you¡¯re alone you have no one to fight for.¡±

    ¡°I suppose. I¡ª¡± He sat up. Something powerful was nearby.

    Damien scrambled to his feet, trying to locate the source. He moved around the camp, ignoring the confused looks from the others.

    Where was it?

    The power felt defused rather than focused like a sorcerer¡¯s conjuring. He stopped.

    There!

    East and a little north. It wasn¡¯t too close, but it wasn¡¯t that far either.

    ¡°What is it, Damien?¡± Jen stood beside him, squinting into the storm outside their shelter, trying to see what he saw. She could strain as hard as she wanted. What Damien sensed wasn¡¯t visible to anyone besides a sorcerer.

    ¡°Power, lots of it. Headed toward our lines. It¡¯s still a ways out, but in a day, maybe two, it¡¯ll reach our people, assuming it doesn¡¯t change course. I can¡¯t get a fix on it. We need to check it out.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s dark and there¡¯s a blizzard. We¡¯re more likely to get lost than find something in this storm. Let¡¯s wait until morning and if you still sense it we¡¯ll investigate.¡±

    Damien wanted to argue, but Jen made a good point. They¡¯d be able to tell more in the morning, though she was wrong about them getting lost. He could follow something that powerful blindfolded.

 1.31

    They were up and moving at first light. The storm had let up during the night, the blizzard dying down to flurries. Apparently even an immortal dragon couldn¡¯t maintain a storm of that power forever. Damien hoped the Ice Queen would need a nice long rest; being able to see where you were walking made a nice change.

    They¡¯d planned their route to the supply depots carefully so as not to waste any time, but the power Damien felt last night lay well off their chosen path. Whatever was generating the power had stopped some time during the night, before resuming its slow, steady progress at dawn. The others grumbled about abandoning their mission, but Jen pointed out their mission included scouting enemy movements. Whatever Damien sensed almost had to be something to do with the enemy forces.

    ¡°How much further?¡± Edward asked.

    Damien shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s moving again. Not as fast as us, but steadily south. If whatever it is doesn¡¯t speed up we should catch it in an hour, two at the most.¡±

    ¡°It better be worthwhile,¡± Talon said. ¡°We could have reached the second depot by now.¡±

    They continued on in silence. Whatever they thought about going off course, the squad members were too professional to give their position away to a potential enemy.

    An hour and twenty minutes later they reached a snow and ice covered ridge. The power he¡¯d felt earlier screamed in his head and all around them flecks of bright-blue soul force streaked the air. It wasn¡¯t far now.

    Damien motioned the others to stop. They gathered around and he whispered, ¡°It¡¯s right over the ridge.¡±

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.They eased up and poked their heads over the crest of the ridge. In a valley below them a column of thousands of ogres and ice trolls marched shoulder to shoulder. None of them gave off much power individually. Damien saw nothing that looked like a sorcerer or warlord, though ogres and trolls all had stronger soul forces than normal humans. It was what accounted for the ogres¡¯ great strength and the trolls¡¯ rapid healing. Even so, it wasn¡¯t enough to account for the power that emanated from the army below. The question was, what did?

    They ducked back down and Jen pulled a rough map of the territory out of her tunic and unfolded it. She touched the map and said in a low voice, ¡°We¡¯re about here. There¡¯s nothing on the map to indicate a valley exists here. Nevertheless that¡¯s a third army and judging from its direction of travel it¡¯s headed for the unguarded pass. We need to warn General Kord he¡¯s going to have company.¡±

    ¡°I can get the message to him if you have pencil and paper to write on,¡± Damien said.

    Rhys rummaged in his ever-present satchel and pulled out a stubby pencil and a two-inch square of parchment. Jen nodded her thanks, scribbled a note, and rolled the paper up. Damien conjured a bird and when Jen held out the note, had it grasp the rolled-up parchment in its beak. The bird raced into the air, far faster than a flesh-and-blood animal.

    Damien conjured a rectangle so he could see through the bird¡¯s eyes and guide it. Ten minutes later the camp came into view. He guided the bird to the general¡¯s tent. The two pages standing outside the tent gaped at the bird hovering in the air in front of them.

    The pages looked at each other, then back. One of them must have noticed the note gripped in the bird¡¯s beak as they pulled the flap open for it. The bird flew in. The general sat in a camp chair eating a bowl of something that steamed in the cool air. Damien guided the bird to land on the edge of his bowl.

    That might not have been the best idea as the general sucked in a surprised breath and choked on his breakfast. When the coughing subsided he took the scrap of paper and unrolled it. A few seconds later his eyes widened.

    Damien had only linked his sight to the construct, but he was good enough at reading lips to know the general asked if the information on the paper was accurate. The bird nodded its head. General Kord ran out of the tent, his food forgotten.

    Damien let the construct dissolve. He¡¯d done everything he could for now.

 1.32

    The little group crouched in the snow above the monster army, their message successfully delivered. Whatever else happened at least the army wouldn¡¯t get caught by surprise. Whether they could defeat a third army was another question altogether.

    ¡°We should follow them,¡± Jen said. ¡°If they change course or join up with another force we haven¡¯t yet seen we have to be able to warn the general.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Damien said. ¡°If we¡¯re in position I might be able to break their charge and give the soldiers a better chance to hold the line when they attack.¡±

    ¡°Do you really think there might be more of them?¡± Alec asked. Damien had never met a nervous warlord, but the youngest member of Jen¡¯s team came close.

    Jen shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but we need to be ready for the possibility. No one has any idea how many monsters live in the Ice Queen¡¯s territory. Some people speculate the reason she attacks every decade or two is to keep the numbers of her army at a reasonable level rather than to try to conquer the Northlands. I think that¡¯s bullshit, but we¡¯re all just guessing.¡±

    Quiet from over the ridge brought their conversation to a halt. They peeked over the edge and saw the end of the column marching out of view. The squad jogged along, never letting the back of the column out of sight. Trailing the enemy force was slow, tedious work, but they kept at it until the sun hung low in the sky and the army stopped for the night. The enemy force set up tents made from fur-covered hides. They made no fires, but passed around what looked like gobbets of raw meat and ate them cold.

    Damien shuddered. How did anyone live like that? The monsters were little better than animals, slaves to be pointed south to kill and die on the whim of an indifferent mistress. He would have pitied them if they weren¡¯t on their way to murder people he¡¯d sworn to protect.

    One ogre, a big, blue-skinned monster wearing nothing but a loincloth and standing a head taller than anything Damien had seen up to now, moved a short distance from the camp, a club of carved ice slung over his shoulder.

    That had to be the commander. Commander might be too generous. He was probably the one that pointed and roared when he wanted them to attack.

    ¡°We should make camp and get some rest,¡± Talon whispered.

    Before anyone could reply a dragon¡¯s head made of ice rose up out of the frozen ground. The soul force Damien sensed gathered around it. This was the source he¡¯d been tracking.

    It wasn¡¯t the Ice Queen. As overwhelmingly powerful as this beast was, it wasn¡¯t strong enough to be her. This must be one of her sons. The books Damien had read suggested she had at least two, though she hadn¡¯t sent one against the kingdom in over one hundred years. The dragon¡¯s eyes glowed bright blue, the same color as the soul force swirling around everywhere. It stared at the big ogre who looked back at it, mouth agape.

    They ducked down out of sight. ¡°Where the hell did that thing come from?¡± Edward asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s been there all along,¡± Damien said. ¡°The dragon¡¯s power is what I sensed, I just didn¡¯t realize it.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Are there tunnels under the snow where it travels out of sight?¡± Jen asked.

    Damien shook his head. He¡¯d read everything in the library about dragons. ¡°Dragons are nothing but energy bound into matter, ice in this case. It can send its energy through the ice then rise up, forming a new body as it goes. That¡¯s why they only attack the kingdom in the winter. There¡¯s no ice in the summer and it reduces their strength to have to maintain the integrity of their bodies outside their element.¡±

    Jen¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°They mean to surprise our forces. No one will know the dragon¡¯s there until it¡¯s too late. We have to send another note.¡±

    Rhys already had parchment and pencil out. Jen jotted down a quick note and when she finished Damien had a bird ready to go. It clamped on to the paper and flew off. His construct hadn¡¯t gone more than a couple hundred yards when it shattered, shards of energy scattered everywhere, the note disintegrated.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Jen must have seen the bird explode.

    Damien was about to explain when Talon said, ¡°Guys?¡±

    Damien had never heard a tremor in the arrogant warlord¡¯s voice. He and Jen inched up the slope to join him. When they peeked over the dragon¡¯s glowing blue eyes were staring right at them.

    ¡°Shit!¡±

    They slid down to rejoin the others. The beast must have sensed Damien¡¯s conjuring and raised a barrier to stop the message from going through. The scrabbling of claws on ice reached them a moment before a bluish-white face, its lips peeled back from a fang-filled mouth, scraggly black hair trailing down its back, appeared over the slope. A reflexive burst of soul force from Damien blew the ice troll¡¯s head to bits. A second later half a dozen more popped up like gofers on the plains.

    Damien blasted two more, but the rest made it over the ridge and charged, claws raised to slaughter anyone that got close. Behind the first wave, more trolls appeared, and behind them yet more.

    It looked like a troll avalanche and the six of them were about to get buried.

    Jen cut the arm off one and gutted a second. ¡°Can you fly us out of here?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Damien conjured curved blades of dense soul force and sent them flying into the mass of trolls. The spinning blades decapitated half a dozen in the first pass. ¡°If we break cover the dragon will turn us into frozen treats. I¡¯m not strong enough to shield us all from something that powerful. Plus I don¡¯t know if I can get through its barrier.¡±

    Jen chopped the head off a troll attempting to reattach its arm to the oozing stump on its shoulder. ¡°Damn it! I guess we¡¯ll have to run.¡±

    ¡°I can hold the trolls off, go.¡± Damien guided his spinning swords into another clump of trolls and sliced them into bloody chunks.

    ¡°I can¡¯t leave you here alone.¡± A troll clawed Jen¡¯s arm, but failed to penetrate her iron skin.

    She punched it in the face, crushing its skull and driving shards of bone into its brain, killing it instantly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, trust me.¡± Damien raised a golden wall between the squad and the trolls. ¡°Go!¡±

    Jen gave him one last look, concern plain on her frowning face, and then she and her squad sprinted away in a cloud of snow.

    Good, now that they were clear he didn¡¯t have to hold back. Damien dropped the wall and shaped the energy into a bubble around him. Trolls raced toward him, foot-long purple tongues hanging out of their mouths, spit flying and freezing on the side of their faces. Ugly things, no doubt about that.

    The first pair of trolls reached his bubble and scraped their black claws against the impenetrable barrier. More trolls gathered around until nothing but rough, pebbly skin, claws, and fangs filled his vision.

    He waited another minute for good measure then conjured a pair of twenty-foot-long blades, one on either side of the bubble, and set them spinning as fast as he could. In an instant he ground over a hundred trolls into so much fertilizer, spattering the snow red for fifty feet in every direction.

    It looked like a butcher shop had exploded.

    A quick look around revealed no more trolls and the dragon¡¯s power moving away. It must have decided to push on through the night. That wasn¡¯t good. If the army reached their line before Damien and the others warned General Kord about the dragon it would be a slaughter.

    He couldn¡¯t allow that to happen.

 1.33

    Jen ran, soul force blazing in her legs, the world a blue-and-green blur. She glanced back over her shoulder in time to see Damien surrounded by a horde of ice trolls. She clenched her jaw and kept going. If her brother could handle a demon, a bunch of trolls wouldn¡¯t bother him. Jen trusted him to survive and catch up.

    If he didn¡¯t make it she¡¯d kill him.

    ¡°Captain!¡± Talon pointed at a patch of evergreens a little ways ahead.

    Jen nodded, that would be a good place to rest and wait for Damien to catch up. They raced through the first few rows of spruce and skidded to a stop in a clearing in the center of the stand. It looked like someone had cut some trees and not that long ago if the fresh stumps were any indication. She¡¯d never heard of ogres or trolls cutting timber; they lived in ice caves, at least according to everything she¡¯d read.

    ¡°How long do we wait?¡± Edward asked.

    Jen wanted to snarl, until my brother catches up, but that wouldn¡¯t be practical with the dragon and its army on the march. ¡°We¡¯ll give him fifteen minutes. If Damien hasn¡¯t caught up by then he isn¡¯t going to.¡±

    No one argued, which was just as well given her mood. She¡¯d left her brother surrounded by trolls! What kind of sister did that?

    It didn¡¯t matter if he told her to go, or that he was the strongest sorcerer she¡¯d ever seen, he was her brother and she¡¯d left him on his own.

    A branch snapped, jolting her out of her recriminations. That hadn¡¯t taken long. Jen figured even Damien would have needed more time than that to deal with so many trolls. A nine-foot-tall, blue-skinned figure wearing a mask of ice carved to look like a dragon stepped into the clearing, an icy club held loosely in one hand. A moment later eight more stepped out of the trees. The silent figures pointed their clubs at Jen and her squad.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Jen drew on her soul force, enhancing her perception and preparing her body for battle. She raised her blade, eager to take her frustration out on ogre flesh.

    She recognized the ogres standing before them. Numerous reports mentioned the masked berserkers that served as the Ice Queen¡¯s elite troops. They were essentially the monstrous equivalent to warlords.

    The first ogre blurred and attacked her in a rush. Ice club met soul-forged steel with a resounding crash. If she hadn¡¯t sped up her awareness she wouldn¡¯t have gotten the blade up in time.

    All around her the crack of ice on steel filled the clearing. Jen pushed the ogre back half a step and counterattacked. It matched her blow for blow as they raced around the clearing fighting for an advantage.

    She leapt at a spruce, twisted in midair so her boots hit the trunk, and pushed off with enough force that the tree cracked down the middle. At a blinding speed that even her father, the great Fredric the Lightning, would be hard pressed to match, Jen raced toward her opponent.

    The masked ogre raised its club a fraction too late and her sword found its heart. She kicked the brute off her blade in the nick of time as a second berserker barreled toward her with murderous intent. Jen met it head on and the battle began again.

    If any normal person entered the clearing all they would have seen were blurry images racing around in clouds of snow. To Jen¡¯s soul-force-enhanced perception the battle unfolded in real time. This ogre didn¡¯t have the same skill as the first and she soon had it on the defensive. She gashed its leg then cut a shallow groove in its chest.

    Out of the corner of her eye she spotted an ogre coming up at high speed behind Rhys. A second ogre had a death grip on his shield.

    The elder warlord beat on the brute¡¯s arm, trying to force it to let him go, but he¡¯d never turn in time to block the incoming berserker.

    Jen abandoned her wounded opponent and raced to cover Rhys¡¯s back.

    Her sword came up and the ogre¡¯s club came down.

    Steel met flesh at its wrist and the ogre¡¯s club went flying, hand and all. Her back cut took its head half off.

    A wet crunch made her spin around in time to see Rhys yank his mace out of the second ogre¡¯s skull. At that moment Damien flew into the clearing.

    Jen tried to shout a warning as her wounded opponent, his injuries all closed up, raced toward her brother, club cocked and ready.

 1.34

    Damien focused on Jen¡¯s sword and quickly sensed the fragment of his soul force several miles distant. He frowned. Why weren¡¯t they still moving? Damien gathered his power and blasted toward them, flying along only a few feet above the ground. He skimmed the fluffy snow, blowing waves of white to the left and right.

    He reached the edge of a spruce grove and had to slow to weave his way through the trees. Unlike a warlord he couldn¡¯t use his soul force to speed up his reactions.

    A minute later he burst into a clearing and found the squad battling a bunch of masked ogres. Damien sensed at once that this lot had warlord-level soul force. Even if he couldn¡¯t sense it the fact that nine ogres were giving Jen and her team a real fight would have told him everything he needed to know. The dragon must have sent a squad of berserkers to deal with them.

    Damien barely had time enough to register the situation when a club appeared out of nowhere and came swinging at his head.

    It bounced off his shield without hurting him, but the force of the blow sent him flying across the clearing toward a second berserker who had his club raised like a forester getting ready to chop down a tree. Quick as thought Damien sent a scythe of pure soul force spinning toward the berserker.

    With the speed of a warlord the ogre dodged the worst of the attack, taking only a shallow gash along its ribs. At least the attack forced it to move aside and gave Damien a chance to get his uncontrolled flight righted.

    He managed it not a moment too soon. The first ogre was sprinting across the clearing, its club cocked and ready.

    Not this time.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.Damien expanded and softened his shield. The club struck and sank into the energy web instead of bouncing off. Unlike last time Damien didn¡¯t go flying, instead he stuck to the berserker¡¯s club.

    In the brute¡¯s instant of confusion he blew a head-sized hole through its chest. His opponent crumpled to the snow.

    Four other ogres lay dead or dying while another five battled Jen and her squad at speeds so fast Damien could just follow the battle. The only reason he knew how many fought was by counting the different soul forces. In a fight where he couldn¡¯t even see where the combatants stood from one instant to the next he didn¡¯t dare launch an attack, he¡¯d be as likely to hit one of his comrades as an ogre.

    A second later an ogre appeared out of the scrum, unmoving, its leg half severed below the knee. Before Damien could blast it, its head went flying off into the trees. He didn¡¯t know which blur killed it. He guessed his sister given the smoothness of the cut.

    Warlords and berserkers raced around the clearing at speeds he could hardly process. Damien stood, surrounded by his shield, and let the battle play out without him. An ogre went down, and another a second later. It looked like his side was winning.

    The final berserker appeared directly in front of Damien, perhaps thinking him an easier target than the warlords, and brought its club down on his head. The blow drove him, shield and all, a foot into the snow.

    Damien narrowed his eyes and a dozen spears of soul force pierced the ogre¡¯s body.

    The rest of the squad stood, panting, surrounded by dead ogres. Edward¡¯s arm hung at a funny angle, attesting to the fact that at least one ogre got a solid blow in. He walked over to a good-sized spruce and slammed his shoulder into it. The joint popped back into place and healing soul force rushed to repair the remaining damage.

    Jen straightened and hurried over to Damien. ¡°You okay?¡± Ogre blood dripped from her sword and spattered her face.

    She made a gruesome sight, like a warrior goddess of legend, worshiped by primitive people with blood sacrifices.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, you?¡±

    She bent down and cleaned her sword off with a handful of snow. ¡°I¡¯m good. Never fought berserkers before. They had some skill.¡±

    Edward grunted, but made no other comment. It appeared he was the only one injured. ¡°What about the trolls?¡± Talon asked.

    ¡°I shredded them. The dragon¡¯s marching through the night. If we don¡¯t hurry they¡¯ll reach the pass ahead of us.¡±

 1.35

    After an exhausting night of running the team finally left the Ice Queen¡¯s territory behind just as dawn lightened the ever-present clouds. The only sign they¡¯d crossed over into the kingdom was the sun finally breaking through the gloom. They saw no soldiers, not even the pickets assigned to the perimeter. The general must have called everyone to the central pass.

    After the fight with the berserkers a reluctant Damien had tried to fly back ahead of the others to warn the general. He hated leaving the others behind, but as his sister pointed out he could make the trip faster than any of them. He didn¡¯t get over fifty feet off the ground before he slammed into a barrier. The dragon must¡¯ve conjured it to keep them from rushing back to warn their army. With no other options they¡¯d run along as fast as possible and hoped for the best.

    They took a moment to catch their breath then the squad turned north. Damien didn¡¯t know how the dragon managed it, but it had raised a sheer wall of ice, blocking them from making a direct run to the central pass. The wall forced them to travel miles out of their way, delaying and exhausting them.

    Damien didn¡¯t know what difference a handful of warlords and a single sorcerer would make, but they were determined to make the effort. The squad hadn¡¯t gone more than a hundred paces when a wide-eyed soldier came running towards them as fast as the deep snow would allow. Every few seconds he glanced back over his shoulder, as though he expected to find an ogre on his tail.

    Jen raised her hand. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s going on?¡±

    The soldier turned his terrified gaze their way. ¡°A dragon! A bloody big dragon appeared out of nowhere.¡±

    They surrounded the trembling soldier. ¡°Slow down. Just tell us what happened.¡± Jen rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

    He took a deep breath and let it out slow. ¡°A third army arrived just before dawn. Thousands of monsters came howling down the pass. We was ready for them though. The sorcerers hammered the first wave, broke their line, and left the stragglers for us to clean up. We was winning, ¡¯til that dragon rose out of the ground. It sent a blast of ice across our line, froze better than a hundred of our boys solid. The commanders shouted orders, but we¡¯d had it. Last I saw that damn dragon was stomping on the stragglers. Looked like it was having fun too.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Jen let the soldier go. They couldn¡¯t blame him for running. ¡°We¡¯re too late.¡±

    ¡°Maybe not.¡± Damien gathered his power. Since they were clear of the Ice Queen¡¯s territory the barrier should be clear. It was probably a suicide mission, but if he couldn¡¯t kill the dragon a lot of soldiers would die. ¡°At the very least I¡¯ve got to try.¡±

    ¡°Damien!¡± She shouted after him, but he¡¯d already leapt into the air and turned toward the battle.

    Damien raced through the sky. The central pass lay a couple of miles from the army camp. Below him tiny figures of fleeing soldiers raced away from the battlefield. The army had routed, pure and simple. No discipline or direction influenced the men, just a need to escape the horror of the dragon.

    Damien understood, he¡¯d felt the beast¡¯s power in its unfocused state and it dwarfed the demon he killed last summer. The plain truth was Damien doubted he could kill the dragon. He¡¯d probably hit it with everything he had and get a laugh for his trouble. But what choice did he have?

    If all those people died and he did nothing he¡¯d never be able to face himself again.

    It took less than a minute to reach the pass. The dragon¡¯s forces had blocked the retreat of the majority of the kingdom¡¯s soldiers. Towering over everything was a horror of icy spikes, horns, and fangs. The dragon had to measure over fifty yards, not counting its sinuous tail. Beside and behind it thousands of ogres and trolls watched it slaughter the trapped humans.

    Damien gathered his soul force. Golden energy rushed out of his center and collected in a seething ball in front of him. Any moment he expected the dragon to sense his power and look up, but it was having too much fun to spare Damien a glance. As his power grew the dragon raised a taloned foot and brought it crashing down on half a dozen men, crushing and slashing them to ribbons.

    Bastard!

    He drew deeper, pulling the power out in a river.

    When he¡¯d drawn every drop of energy he had, Damien loosed the blast at the dragon in a single focused lightning bolt.

    He fell.

    The world went black and the ground rushed to meet him.

    Damien hoped he¡¯d pass out before he struck. Hitting the ground from this height would hurt, for a moment at least.

 1.36

    ¡°Damien!¡± Jen shouted after her brother again. He ignored her, racing off to do something very brave and stupid.

    She drew on her depleted soul force and sprinted after him. Despite her speed Damien pulled away from her.

    She dodged spruce trees that seemed to appear from nowhere, her accelerated senses allowing her to make decisions ten times faster than a normal person. What was he thinking, trying to take on a dragon on his own? They should gather reinforcements, especially more sorcerers, and make a proper counterattack.

    Jen leapt an eight-foot boulder. But if they did that they¡¯d lose the forces fighting in the central pass along with General Kord, who almost certainly had led the soldiers himself. Damien must have realized that as well.

    Idiot!

    A tear froze on her cheek. If anything happened to him¡­ No, she wouldn¡¯t allow anything to happen to him. She was his big sister and it was her job to keep him safe, even if he didn¡¯t think he needed to be kept safe anymore.

    A line of retreating soldiers streamed past her. She was moving so fast most of them didn¡¯t even notice her. In the sky above, Damien had come to a stop. He floated, facing toward the pass, still a mile away. In front of him golden energy gathered. He wasted no effort disguising his conjuring.

    She clenched her teeth and ran faster. She had to get to him before he released his power. If Damien gave it everything he had there¡¯d be nothing left to hold him up.

    She was still a hundred yards short of her brother when a thunderous explosion shook the ground. The energy he¡¯d summoned crackled like a lightning bolt toward the pass.

    Damien fell.

    He had no power left to stay in the sky.

    She gathered herself and leapt. As she flew toward her brother she glanced into the pass in time to see his attack slam into a massive dragon made of ice. It roared louder than the explosion, bits of its body flying in all directions.

    Damien thudded into her arms.

    He groaned. ¡°Hey, sis. I think I overdid it.¡± Then he passed out.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    She landed in the snow, turned, and sprinted toward camp. There¡¯d be healers there. Someone could do something for him. Jen ran so fast a wake of snow rose and fell on either side of her, washing over the occasional group of soldiers she passed, their shouts and curses drowned out by the wind in her ears. She dodged the sparse trees and weary soldiers with equal indifference. Her only thought was to get Damien to the healers as fast as possible.

    A couple minutes later the first tent came into view. ¡°Hang on, little brother, we¡¯re almost there.¡±

    Damien gave no sign he heard her. He lay in her arms, limp and still. If not for the rise and fall of his chest she would have thought he¡¯d died. She clenched her jaw and headed toward a sprawling white tent with a red cross on the side. Wounded soldiers in torn armor surrounded the tent. Jen shouldered her way through them.

    ¡°Hey!¡± A big bald man with an arm hanging limp at his side grabbed her and spun her around. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing, cutting to the front of the line?¡±

    Jen narrowed her eyes and snarled. ¡°Take your hand off me or you won¡¯t need a healer.¡±

    Whether the look in her eye or the cold tone she used, something made the wounded man take a step back and raise his good hand. The others must have noticed the altercation because when she turned around a path had opened for her to the front of the tent. Jen hurried inside.

    Dozens of cots filled the inside. Healers of all sorts, both mundane and sorcerers, tended moaning, groaning, and bleeding soldiers.

    The stink of blood and death almost overwhelmed her.

    Six cots to her right, John Kord knelt beside a wounded woman, his hands glowing as he sealed a gash on her side.

    ¡°John!¡±

    He turned his handsome face in her direction and his eyes went wide. John and Damien had been close when they were little and her brother mentioned they¡¯d gotten reacquainted at the tower. He finished with the woman then ran over to them. ¡°What happened?¡±

    She told him as they walked over to an empty cot. Jen laid her brother down and John made a pass with one hand over his chest. He nodded to himself.

    ¡°Well?¡± she asked, a quiver in her voice.

    John smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯ll be fine. Channeling that much soul force all at once exhausted his body. It looks like he used a little of the energy he needed to maintain his life functions, which explains why he passed out. He¡¯ll be sore as hell for a few days, but other than that I don¡¯t expect any lasting impact.¡±

    ¡°How long until he wakes up?¡±

    John shrugged. He didn¡¯t seem at all worried, which set her mind at ease. ¡°Your guess is as good as mine.¡±

    ¡°Can I stay with him?¡±

    ¡°Sure, grab a stool. I¡¯ve got to get back to work. Hey, when this is over we should get something to eat.¡±

    Jen shook her head. He never failed to ask her out when they met, and no matter how many times she turned him down he kept trying, even in the middle of a war. She had to respect his persistence. ¡°I¡¯ll pass.¡±

    He sighed, apparently having expected her reply. John left her alone with Damien. Jen glanced around and found a forgotten three-legged stool half hidden under a torn cot. Not ideal, but it was better than standing. She settled down beside her brother, took his hand, and closed her eyes to try to nap until he woke up.

 1.37

    Damien hurt everywhere. From the tips of his toes to the top of his head he was one giant ache. Even his hair hurt. He and pain were old and bitter acquaintances, but for all the injuries he¡¯d taken at The Citadel he¡¯d never before hurt everywhere all at once. This was a new experience and he didn¡¯t like it at all.

    Around him groans of pain filled the air. It sounded like he wasn¡¯t the only one that got hurt, though he was probably the only to sustain self-inflicted injuries. He opened his eyes and a white roof filled his vision.

    The healers¡¯ tent, of course. Somehow he always seemed to end up with the healers. He turned his attention inward and found his soul force regenerated, but his shield hadn¡¯t recovered. He drew a little soul force and winced. How long would it hurt to use his power? He supposed it didn¡¯t really matter. He focused through the pain and recreated his shield. When he finished drawing on his power the pain faded a little.

    ¡°Damien?¡±

    He turned toward his sister¡¯s voice and found her sitting beside his cot. ¡°Did I get it?¡±

    ¡°You hit the dragon, but I didn¡¯t see what happened to it. Don¡¯t ever scare me like that again.¡±

    Her eyes were red like she¡¯d been crying. It was a rare thing, seeing his powerful, fierce sister with tears in her eyes. He hoped to never see it again, much less be the cause of it. ¡°Sorry, sis. I couldn¡¯t think what else to do.¡±

    A cough sounded and Damien turned to see General Kord and the pale sorcerer that led the army¡¯s sorcerers standing near the entry of the tent. Damien tried to sit up, but Jen put a hand on his chest, forcing him back into bed. ¡°Sir?¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    The pages entered a moment later carrying a pair of folding camp chairs. They set them up and the general and sorcerer sat beside his bed. ¡°I was on the field when you blasted that dragon,¡± General Kord said. ¡°You blew a hole big enough to drive a wagon through in its side and somehow our sorcerers say it escaped.¡±

    ¡°I tried to shape the blast so it wouldn¡¯t hit our soldiers. Is everyone okay?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t catch a single one of my men in the blast, but you killed thousands of ogres and trolls. When the dragon fled the monsters lost their enthusiasm for the fight. We swept the field clear and according to my scouts they¡¯re still running. I suspect the war¡¯s over for this year, thanks to you. I dispatched a letter to His Majesty and the king insists on having a feast and award ceremony in your honor. You, Jen, and her squad are to head south as soon as you¡¯re able to travel.¡± He shot a look at the sorcerer.

    Her face twisted in a grimace. ¡°Well done, young man. You blew away over half the dragon¡¯s soul force with your attack. It¡¯ll take centuries for it to recover. The Northlands owe you a great debt. You have my thanks and the thanks of my lord duke.¡±

    Damien smiled. What sort of threats had General Kord made to get her to say that? Whatever he said, Damien appreciated it. ¡°I¡¯m just glad I made a difference.¡± He brought his fist to his heart. ¡°For the person beside you.¡±

    The general grinned and returned the salute. ¡°For the person beside you. You¡¯re welcome in my army any time, Damien. Your father would be proud.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±

    The general nodded and he and the sorcerer left. When they¡¯d gone Damien turned to his sister. ¡°How long was I out?¡±

    ¡°Most of a day. John said you¡¯d be fine, but I was starting to wonder.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to worry you.¡± Damien grinned. ¡°Did he ask you out?¡±

    Jen sighed. ¡°Of course. That boy won¡¯t take no for an answer.¡±

    Damien laughed even though it made his whole body hurt. ¡°What do you expect, he¡¯s in love.¡±

 1.38

    Damien managed another day resting before he couldn¡¯t stand it anymore. He still ached, but it was bearable and getting less painful all the time. In another week, hopefully, he¡¯d be recovered. It still hurt to draw his soul force. John said it was because he¡¯d used too much all at once, but he hadn¡¯t done any permanent damage. Better yet, if Damien had to do it again it would hurt less since he¡¯d done it once already.

    Damien, Jen, and the rest of her squad rode for the better part of three weeks before the walls of the capital rose in the distance. Damien would have preferred a conjured mount, but John assured him riding a real horse would be better under the circumstances. So here he was, on a rolling, breathing, stinking mount ten miles from the capital. Snow blanketed everything; trees, fields, and fences were reduced to white blobs.

    He hated winter. Anything might be hiding out under that white expanse. A clever, patient enemy could sneak within a few feet of his target before he struck. Of course, anyone stupid enough to sneak up on Damien and his companions would end up dead in very short order. At least the traffic to the city had tromped down the snow covering the road so the horses didn¡¯t have to slog through knee-deep piles of the stuff.

    ¡°What are you thinking about?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°Assassins.¡±

    She frowned. ¡°What about them?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather fight half a dozen than go to some stupid feast.¡±

    She laughed. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. Just smile and nod, shake some hands, and plead exhaustion. You could probably escape inside an hour.¡±

    He grimaced. An hour? How would he manage an hour of smiling and listening to those idiots talk about the battles they watched like they had some part in the fighting? At least the food should be good. After a month plus on the road and eating in camp Damien wanted a hot, well-cooked meal in the worst way.

    Not tiny sandwiches covered in cold cucumbers either, but meat and hot bread. And a mug of mulled cider, he¡¯d sell his soul for a mug of hot cider.

    ¡°Looks like they sent out a welcoming committee.¡±

    Jen¡¯s words shook him out of his thoughts. A dozen horsemen cantered out from the main gate toward them. Damien squinted, but couldn¡¯t tell who it was.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°It¡¯s Dad.¡± Jen must have used her soul force to sharpen her sight.

    Damien warped the air in front of his eyes to mimic the lenses of a spy glass. A little twinge of pain coursed through him, but nothing to bother about. Sure enough, through the magnification field, he saw his father riding at the head of ten horsemen dressed in blue-and-silver tabards, a gold crown embroidered on their chests. They carried lances with matching pennants flapping in the wind.

    An escort of royal guardsmen, how nice. It looked like the king, or as he preferred Jen and Damien to call him in private, Uncle Andy, was going all out.

    They reined in when the two groups were ten yards apart. Jen and her squad saluted his father, their fists touching their chests. Damien waved. He wasn¡¯t a warlord and he didn¡¯t answer to his father.

    Dad returned the salute. ¡°Congratulations on your successful mission.¡± He turned his intense gaze on Damien. ¡°I understand you made a good showing for yourself, son. His Majesty wishes to extend his most sincere thanks for your efforts on his behalf. Well done.¡±

    The pride in the old man¡¯s voice surprised Damien. He¡¯d never had much use for sorcerers and even less for Damien himself. He considered them cowards for the most part since they didn¡¯t fight the enemy face to face. ¡°Thank you, sir. It¡¯ll be nice to see Uncle Andy, I mean the king, again.¡±

    Dad winced at his slip. Damien had to remember not to act too familiar with Uncle Andy when other people were around. Sometimes he forgot the kind man that used to run around with Damien on his shoulders as a child was also his king. Of course Uncle Andy would have a fit if he acted too formal in private so he had to balance it, so complicated. Stupid court, with all their rules and propriety. It would be so much easier if everyone could just be friends instead of lords and vassals. The fact that a lot of them hated each other might have something to do with it.

    The guardsmen formed up on either side of the group and they rode toward the gate. Dad eased his mare over beside Damien.

    Taking on that dragon was very dangerous.

    Damien smiled, but didn¡¯t reply. It was good to hear Lizzy¡¯s voice. He hoped they¡¯d have time to catch up later. Dad hated it when he talked out loud to her when others were around, so he contented himself with sending her warm thoughts.

    ¡°General Kord said you saved the northern army all by yourself.¡± Dad sounded a little dubious and Damien didn¡¯t blame him. All he¡¯d ever seen was Damien the screw up.

    ¡°I did the best I could and things worked out. I was lucky Jen was there to catch me since I didn¡¯t have a drop of power left after I blasted that dragon. I was hoping to kill it, but the spotters said it got away.¡±

    ¡°An impressive feat just the same.¡± Dad patted him on the back.

    Damien smiled at the awkward attempt at affection. Of all Dad¡¯s myriad of talents, showing affection to his son was not among them. It was nice that he¡¯d made the effort though. Maybe they¡¯d manage to be civil for however long they were in the capital. ¡°Thanks, Dad. Did any of the monsters get through?¡±

    ¡°Reports say a few groups snuck past our line. I¡¯ve got squads out hunting them down. You¡¯ve done your part. Let others handle this.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± That was one order he¡¯d be happy to follow.

 1.39

    The city gates consisted of foot-thick oak timbers held together with iron bands. The walls loomed fifty feet above them. Twenty feet thick and constructed of granite blocks fused together with soul force, the wall was almost a solid piece of rock. Beyond the gate the citizens had shoveled the cobblestone streets clear of snow, making traveling easy.

    Hundreds of people walked in both directions up and down King¡¯s Way, the central road from the gate to the castle, on their way to one of the many shops and taverns lining the street. Noon fast approached, so this was probably the lunch rush. Many people waved at the stoic guardsmen, hoping for a reaction.

    Damien remembered doing the same thing when he was little and visiting the capital with Dad and Jen the first time. They never flinched despite his youthful efforts.

    He sighed. It had been too long since they visited the castle together. Did the cook still make the honey butter biscuits he and Jen used to steal as kids? He hoped so and if she did he planned to steal some more.

    ¡°You look nostalgic.¡±

    He glanced at his sister who wore a smile that no doubt matched his. ¡°How long has it been, six years?¡±

    ¡°About that. Do you think Princess Karrie will be happy to see you?¡±

    Damien¡¯s smile soured. Princess Karrie was Uncle Andy¡¯s daughter, heir to the throne, and a year younger than Damien. On his last visit she¡¯d developed a crush on him and followed him and John everywhere. She even proclaimed to anyone that would listen that she intended to marry him. He¡¯d had no use for girls at the time and now he only had eyes for Lizzy. He really hoped she¡¯d grown out of it. ¡°Not too happy I hope.¡±

    Jen laughed. She¡¯d always gotten a kick out of the little princess chasing him around. Funny, she didn¡¯t seem to find John chasing her around nearly so amusing. Not wanting to ruin the warm fuzzy feeling he was enjoying Damien kept that observation to himself.

    Fifteen minutes brought them to the inner gates. A second, thirty-foot wall surrounded the residential district and served as a second line of defense if the outer wall should fall. As far as Damien knew that had never happened.

    King¡¯s Way continued on through the neat rows of cedar-shingled multifamily houses. The further they went the nicer the buildings. In the distance the imposing gray stone castle loomed. A third wall, this one twenty feet tall, surrounded the castle just inside the dry moat. A single drawbridge allowed access to the castle.

    With their escort of royal guards no one challenged them as they rode across the heavy planks of the drawbridge. Damien glanced up at the spiked bottom of the raised portcullis. How big a force would it take to penetrate this far into the city?If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    A bigger danger would be sorcerers flying in over the walls. Of course anyone attempting to fly into the castle would have to deal with the archmage and her Crimson Legion.

    Inside the wall was an empty courtyard. Long, low barracks sat along the walls and housed the royal guards. Now that they were inside their escorts peeled off and rode towards the barracks. Perhaps they¡¯d get the rest of the day off.

    Four boys rushed out of the keep to collect their horses.

    When they¡¯d dismounted and the stable boys had led the animals away Damien asked, ¡°What now?¡±

    In answer to his question an old man with a knobby staff wearing long blue robes hobbled out of the keep. A wispy white beard grew from his chin and he wore a golden key around his neck.

    Damien grinned. Dale Alan, the castle seneschal, looked exactly as he remembered from all those years ago.

    ¡°Dale!¡± Damien waved.

    The old man smiled. ¡°Master Damien, it¡¯s been far too long. And Jennifer as well. Wonderful to see you both. The king is expecting you.¡±

    Dale led them into the keep, his staff tapping along on the stone floor. Inside, a long hall lined with suits of armor led to a set of double doors that opened into the throne room. Halfway down, a door on either side led to the rest of the castle. A pair of royal guards, their halberds resting on the floor, stood beside the doors.

    They looked more like doormen than guards. As if reading Damien¡¯s mind the two men pulled the doors open as they approached.

    The throne room wasn¡¯t as big as you might have expected, reflecting the fact that when they¡¯d built the castle defense came before pomp. A red carpet ran down the center of the room between rows of empty, hard wooden benches that sat facing the raised throne where Uncle Andy sat beside another pair of guards.

    Those two carried well-worn long swords and judging from their soul force were powerful warlords. Not that Uncle Andy was any slouch. His soul force almost matched his guards and he was still strong and fit, his dark hair streaked with gray. He wore a simple gold circlet, blue-and-silver tunic, black pants, and a purple robe trimmed with fox fur. When they reached the end of the carpet everyone took a knee.

    ¡°No need to stand on protocol in private, please rise.¡±

    Damien got up and found Uncle Andy on his feet and walking down the two steps from the throne. He shook hands with Jen and her team. ¡°I understand you did good work finding the dragon and its army and warning General Kord of its approach. Well done.¡±

    They all bowed their heads and murmured words of thanks. Besides Jen none of them had met the king before and they seemed uncertain what to say. Uncle Andy realized it as well. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re tired from your journey. Perhaps you¡¯d like to rest in the barracks.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll join you later,¡± Jen said.

    The guys bowed and fled like men who¡¯d just received a reprieve from the gallows. When they¡¯d gone and the doors closed behind them Uncle Andy laughed. ¡°Am I so intimidating?¡±

    Damien grinned and shook his hand. ¡°They just don¡¯t know you like we do. Can we skip the award ceremony and just have the feast?¡±

    ¡°Same Damien, always thinking with his stomach. Unfortunately, we have to have the ceremony. General Kord put you up for the Medal of Valor and after reading his report I believe you deserve it. Don¡¯t worry, it won¡¯t take that long. Karrie¡¯s around here somewhere. I believe she mentioned wanting a dance at the feast.¡±

    Damien managed not to grimace.

 1.40

    Two days after his meeting with Uncle Andy, Damien stood in a short hall that led to a balcony where the king would place a gold trinket around his neck. The voices of the gathering crowd reached Damien despite the distance.

    He tugged at the collar of his formal robes. A shrill, wrinkled woman had spent an hour yesterday evening measuring him and attempting to poke him with needles. If not for his personal shield he¡¯d look like a pin cushion. He¡¯d never met the woman before, but he felt certain she hated him on sight. When she left an hour later he returned the feeling.

    Why couldn¡¯t they just get it over with already? He couldn¡¯t see the sun from where he stood, but he figured he had at least another half hour of waiting. Damien never imagined wishing for a demon attack, but it might be a welcome change right about now. He conjured a chair and slumped down in it.

    ¡°Damien St. Cloud?¡± A slender, older woman with blond hair, a mess of fine wrinkles around her sharp green eyes, and a crimson robe appeared as if out of nowhere. He saw no soul force so she must be a sorcerer, probably a member of the Crimson Legion.

    Damien blinked in surprise. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am, can I help you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Lidia Thorn, archmage of the kingdom.¡±

    Damien scrambled to his feet, reabsorbed the speck of power he used to form the chair, and licked his lips. The archmage! What was he supposed to do, bow, salute, no one ever told him. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡± That was almost certainly not the proper reply.

    She smiled at his unease. ¡°Please relax or you¡¯ll make me nervous. I¡¯ve been reading about you. You completed your training in the minimum required time, killed a demon a few days later, and now you almost killed a dragon. An impressive start to your career.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°Thank you, ma¡¯am. I haven¡¯t had much luck finding a mentor despite my efforts. If I can¡¯t find one soon I don¡¯t know what sort of career I might have.¡±

    She waved her hand as though that was of no concern. ¡°Show me your power.¡±

    ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡±

    ¡°Channel half your power into your shield and make it visible. Reading reports isn¡¯t the same as seeing for myself.¡±

    Damien saw no reason to refuse, and even if he did he wouldn¡¯t dare object to her order. He made his shield visible and suddenly the world took on a golden tint. Half his power went flowing down the channels he¡¯d made. All around him stones vibrated, and cracks ran along the floor as the power he didn¡¯t fully contain spilled over. The archmage¡¯s hair and robe blew back from the breeze his power whipped up.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± She waved her arms like he couldn¡¯t hear her.

    He drew his power back in and returned his shield to its original state. ¡°Was that okay, ma¡¯am?¡±

    She smiled and straightened her hair. ¡°Better than okay. You¡¯re stronger than me. I suspect you could take any three of my Crimson Legion in a duel. How about you come work for me?¡±

    ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± He had to have heard wrong. There was no way the archmage would want a kid six months out of the tower to serve in her legion.

    ¡°I want you to come work for me. The others are too gutless to take you as an apprentice. Well, that¡¯s their loss. You¡¯re far too valuable to waste sitting in The Tower waiting for a mentor. I¡¯ll be your mentor and you¡¯ll answer directly to me. You¡¯ve certainly proven yourself a capable field agent. What do you say?¡±

    Damien didn¡¯t have to think long. ¡°I¡¯d be honored, Master.¡±

    She nodded once. ¡°Excellent. I¡¯ve arranged a room for you in the castle. When I have something I¡¯ll summon you. In the meantime keep practicing and make yourself useful around the grounds. I¡¯m sure you can find something to do.¡±

    Damien blinked and she vanished. He squinted, trying and failing to penetrate her invisibility screen. What an odd woman. He¡¯d assumed the archmage would be more intimidating, but she reminded Damien of a kindly aunt.

    Oh well, at least he didn¡¯t have to go around begging for a master anymore. He was working with the archmage. He restrained himself from jumping for joy. After this even the award ceremony would be bearable.

 2.1

    Damien St. Cloud leaned against the wall in the back corner of the throne room, the stone rough through his black tunic, and watched the line of peacocks waiting their turn to suck up to Uncle Andy. Silk and lace draped the soft, flabby bodies of thirty of the richest and most powerful people in the kingdom while gold and gems glittered in the light of the glow globes hanging from the ceiling. They¡¯d arrived to present themselves to the king. Probably so, despite his best efforts, he wouldn¡¯t forget they existed.

    A slight breeze from the invisible fan he¡¯d conjured blew the overwhelming stink of perfume mingled with sweat away. When he first entered, the stench had about knocked him over. You¡¯d think people that rich could afford a bath. He didn¡¯t know how the regular guards stood it. The warlords used soul force to block their sense of smell. Damien could see the flow of energy that separated their brains from their noses. That had to be how Uncle Andy kept from throwing up.

    For his part. the king sat on his simple wooden throne, a big, fake smile plastered on his face as he shook the hand of a fat, bald nobleman in acid green silks. Damien couldn¡¯t hear what the fawning fop was saying nor did he care enough to conjure an eavesdropping sphere to listen in. He assumed the man wanted something, the same as the rest of the leeches in line. Rich as they were, you could always count on a noble to want more.

    Damien narrowed his focus, curious about the nobles¡¯ soul force. The fat man in green seemed ordinary enough, likewise the woman behind him. The man behind her, one of the few without a giant stomach, had a weak internal soul force. Not strong enough to train as a warlord, but enough to give him an edge over an ordinary person.

    He kept scanning. A surprising number of the nobility lacked any significant soul force. Maybe nature made a point of balancing their wealth with a lack of real power. Damien frowned when he reached the second-to-last man in line, a potbellied fellow with oily black hair and watery blue eyes. He had no soul force at all. Which meant he had to be a sorcerer. Curiosity piqued, Damien studied the man even closer. A faint soul force aura surrounded his body. Some kind of illusion maybe.

    Why would a noble need an illusion to present himself to the king? Something was wrong. Along the far-side wall stood the captain of the royal guard in his immaculate blue-and-silver tabard over practical mail armor. Damien didn¡¯t know the man well. He¡¯d stood beside Damien¡¯s father when Uncle Andy presented him with the Medal of Valor last week. The captain had a strong internal soul force, nothing compared to Dad, but better than average. Most important, his loyalty to the king was beyond question. He¡¯d know if the nobleman was hiding something.

    Damien worked his way around the back of the throne room. The guards all knew him and moved out of his way. A minute later he leaned against the wall beside the guard captain, arms crossed, trying to look casual. ¡°Captain.¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.¡°Damien. Something I can do for you?¡± The captain pitched his voice low so no one would overhear them.

    ¡°The second-to-last man in line, do you know him?¡±

    ¡°Dominic Santen. He¡¯s a merchant prince, bought a title, but doesn¡¯t hold any land. What about him?¡±

    ¡°Is he a sorcerer?¡±

    ¡°No, he¡¯s a weasel, liar, thief, and cheat, but not a sorcerer.¡±

    ¡°Then we have a problem, because that man¡¯s a sorcerer and I suspect he¡¯s using an illusion to look like Mr. Santen.¡±

    The captain eased his hand closer to the well-worn hilt of his sword. ¡°Are you certain?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Damien wanted to tap his soul force, but didn¡¯t dare for fear of warning the imposter. ¡°How do you want to handle it?¡±

    ¡°Can you break the illusion so we can see what we¡¯re dealing with?¡±

    The imposter had moved so he stood only ten people from the throne. They needed to act fast, before he got any closer to Uncle Andy. ¡°Sure, but if he¡¯s strong this could get ugly fast. Do you want me to shield the nobles or take down the sorcerer?¡±

    ¡°Take down the sorcerer. I know enough about sorcerers to know my men won¡¯t have much of a chance against him. We¡¯ll deal with the nobles. Blasted Crimson Legion! They were supposed to screen all the guests before they entered the throne room.¡±

    Damien nodded. The captain¡¯s plan made sense. Part of him wanted to defend his new comrades, but he couldn¡¯t think of a good argument. How had the sorcerer snuck into the castle? Damien hoped whoever the imposter was, he was just filling in for the real Dominic Santen and didn¡¯t mean any harm. ¡°Understood. When do you want me to go?¡±

    The captain made several subtle gestures with his off hand and all around the room guards tensed. ¡°Now.¡±

    Damien drew power and sent a stream of it at the imposter. He formed the blast so it would only shatter the illusion, not harm the person under it. The image of an out-of-shape merchant vanished. In his place stood a female figure. Tight gray pants and shirt hugged a curvy figure. A half mask covered her face from the nose down. She wore thin black gloves and heavy leather boots.

    Her cold gaze locked with Damien¡¯s.

    This woman was a killer, he knew it.

    She leapt toward the throne, a golden blade appearing in her right hand. Damien conjured a wall in her path, but the blade made short work of it.

    He¡¯d never seen a soul force construct that dense. It looked like she put all her power into it.

    Uncle Andy had leapt to his feet and pulled his sword. It appeared he wanted to fight, but his guards were standing in front of him, shielding him from the assassin.

    Whimpering nobles fled for the exit, royal guards attempting to keep them under control. Damien had no time to worry about them. With his barrier demolished the sorcerer rushed the guards.

    They attacked and an instant later found their swords in pieces, only their enhanced speed keeping them from getting gutted. Damien drew half his power and conjured golden chains that wrapped tight around her legs and body. He matched the density of her blade and when she tried to cut the bindings away she only nicked them.

    Uncle Andy¡¯s guards hustled him out the back exit. Half a dozen guardsmen approached the woman as she furiously hacked at the chains. Damien poured more energy into them to repair the damage she was causing.

    ¡°Somebody hit her! I can¡¯t keep her bound forever.¡±

    The captain of the guard raced in at warlord speed and brought his pommel down on the back of her head. Her sword vanished and she slumped in Damien¡¯s chains. He studied the flow of her soul force to make certain she wasn¡¯t faking before he let the chains vanish. Two guards caught her before she hit the ground.

 2.2

    Every castle had a dungeon. Damien felt sure it was a rule. He¡¯d never visited one before so he had no idea how Uncle Andy¡¯s compared to someone else¡¯s. In some of the stories he¡¯d read, the authors described dungeons as dank, smelly places filled with torture chambers and hooded guards that entertained themselves by beating the prisoners. By that standard this dungeon was a pleasant spot.

    Cool and dry, without a bit of standing water, the dungeon under the royal castle had a dozen cells outfitted with simple cots and mess buckets. A faint odor of sweat and human waste filtered through the halls, but nothing unbearable. In fact, to Damien, the smell offended less than the nobles¡¯ perfume. Steel doors with small view slits kept the prisoners from wandering off. Ten guards in blue-and-sliver uniforms patrolled the halls, heavy truncheons hanging at their belts.

    On their way to the interrogation chamber Damien and the archmage passed three guards on patrol. Was ¡°interrogation chamber¡± a euphemism for ¡°torture chamber¡±?

    When she heard about the attempt on the king¡¯s life his master had about hit the roof. Damien wouldn¡¯t have wanted to be whichever Crimson Legionnaire had let the assassin sneak into the castle.

    ¡°You did well to spot and subdue her, Damien,¡± the archmage said. ¡°Since you took her alive, hopefully we can find out who hired her.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Master.¡± Damien allowed himself a moment to bask in his mentor¡¯s praise. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone who used their soul force like she did.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised.¡± They rounded a corner and found three red-robed sorcerers facing into an open room.

    Soul force streamed from the sorcerers. Every time the assassin tried to draw power from her core they severed the link and her conjuring collapsed. He wasn''t familiar with that technique. Inside the room a fourth sorcerer in identical robes sat at a simple wooden table facing the assassin.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°She¡¯s a member of a group called the Soul Knives,¡± the archmage said. ¡°Assassins for hire that specialize in creating soul force weapons of great destructive power. They¡¯re based down south in the badlands. Whoever hired her must have a lot of coin as they don¡¯t work cheap.¡±

    They stopped just beyond the interrogation chamber. Someone had removed the assassin¡¯s mask and outer clothes, leaving her wearing nothing but small clothes. Her thin lips were turned down in a sullen frown. Pale, freckled skin covered a lean, wiry body. Several thin scars marred her flat, well-muscled stomach. She might have been attractive but for the flat, emotionless brown eyes; killer¡¯s eyes. Damien¡¯s father had eyes like that when he fought.

    The sorcerer in the room slammed his fist on the table. ¡°Who are you working for?¡±

    The assassin¡¯s cool, indifferent gaze raked him over and dismissed him. Damien doubted just asking would be enough to get her to talk. Maybe they¡¯d need a torture chamber after all.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s going to tell us anything,¡± Damien said.

    His master smiled, a tiny, evil curl of her lips. ¡°We haven¡¯t begun the interrogation yet. Alden¡¯s just giving her a chance to talk and save herself some pain. I wanted you to see how he proceeds. This isn¡¯t the sort of thing they teach at Sorcery. Pay close attention.¡±

    She whistled two sharp notes. Alden drew a thin stream of power and drove it straight into the assassin¡¯s brain. She tried to conjure a shield to block the probe, but one of the other sorcerers countered her.

    The assassin¡¯s back arched and she screamed. Damien recognized the place Alden stabbed: the pain center of the brain. In healing class they¡¯d learned how to block the flow of pain from a wound to that area, like he¡¯d done for Talon last summer. This looked like the exact opposite of that technique. It never occurred to him to do that.

    The questioner shifted his probe to another section of her brain and the screaming stopped. ¡°Who hired you?¡±

    She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Damien glanced at his master.

    ¡°She¡¯s trying to lie, but Alden¡¯s blocked her access to that area of her brain. If she wishes to speak she can only tell the truth. This part of the technique is more important than the pain. If you can¡¯t keep them from lying, torture does no good.¡±

    Damien winced when Alden switched his probe back to the pain center, drawing another scream. For her sake, killer or not, he hoped she told them what they wanted to know. ¡°Do you think she¡¯ll break?¡±

    ¡°They all break eventually.¡± Her cold, emotionless tone sent a chill up Damien¡¯s spine.

 2.3

    Damien sat at the intricately carved mahogany table in the dining room of the royal quarters. Roast pheasant and a variety of sides covered the table. Uncle Andy sat to his left, Princess Karrie across from him, and Queen Audra to his right. After the attack that morning Uncle Andy had insisted he join the family for supper, as a reward or for protection Damien couldn¡¯t say. For his part Damien was glad to have an excuse to escape the marathon torture session in the dungeon.

    He¡¯d never considered himself squeamish, but after two hours of listening to that woman scream he had been happy to beg off and get ready for supper. The assassin was tough, he had to give her credit. Alden had to quit after an hour and a half. While he recovered, a stunning young woman¡ªblond hair, blue eyes, and a perfect figure¡ªtook his place.

    The sight of perhaps the most beautiful woman he¡¯d ever seen after Lizzy, torturing someone without blinking, amazed him. The strangest thing about the whole process was the lack of blood. Aside from a hoarse voice you¡¯d never know anything had happened to the assassin.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Damien?¡± Queen Audra asked. She wore a blue gown, her long dark hair hanging loose down her back. Damien had never been as close to the queen as he was to Uncle Andy. Whenever his family visited the capital she spent most of her time gossiping with her ladies. Uncle Andy liked to play with him and Jen. ¡°Isn¡¯t the pheasant to your liking?¡±

    Damien looked down at his almost untouched plate. Everything tasted like ashes after the torture session. As far as he knew the assassin was still screaming under their feet. Thinking about it soured his stomach.

    ¡°Everything¡¯s delicious. I guess after the attack I don¡¯t have much appetite.¡±

    He looked up and found Karrie staring at him with her bright, green eyes. She batted her eyelashes, trying to play the flirt. Since he¡¯d last seen her Karrie had grown into a pretty girl. Straight black hair framed a heart-shaped face and a slim body was just starting to show signs of the woman she¡¯d be. In a couple more years, when she finished filling out, the noble boys would be fighting over her and not just because she stood to inherit the throne.

    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing you were there today.¡± Uncle Andy took a sip of wine. ¡°A lot of people might have gotten hurt otherwise.¡±

    ¡°My master said to make myself useful. Capturing assassins seemed useful.¡±

    Uncle Andy laughed and dug back into his meal, an attempt on his life insufficient to blunt his appetite. Damien nibbled a few more bites. The pheasant really did taste wonderful. To his surprise, five minutes later, he¡¯d cleaned his plate. He fought a yawn and lost. It had been a long day.

    ¡°You look all in,¡± Uncle Andy said. ¡°What do you say we call it a night?¡±

    Before Damien could respond a tremor ran through the room, setting the silverware to rattling. The little quake lasted for maybe five seconds.

    ¡°Bloody tremblers,¡± Uncle Andy said. ¡°I swear, if it¡¯s not one thing it¡¯s another.¡±

    Damien stood and stretched. The tremors were a nuisance, but basically harmless. ¡°I think I¡¯ll head to my room. I¡¯m afraid I wasn¡¯t good company tonight.¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.Audra patted his knee. ¡°Don¡¯t give it another thought. Go get some sleep.¡±

    Damien bowed to the queen and shook Uncle Andy¡¯s hand.

    ¡°I¡¯ll walk you to your room.¡± Karrie popped out of her chair.

    Damien¡¯s jaw clenched and released. He tried to think of a polite way to refuse, but nothing came to him. The walk only took a couple of minutes. He could tolerate her unwanted attention for that long. It wasn¡¯t that he disliked Karrie, she was a sweet girl, he just didn¡¯t like her the way she wanted him to.

    ¡°That¡¯s a good idea, sweetheart,¡± Uncle Andy said. ¡°You need to spend more time with people your own age.¡±

    Damien glanced at Uncle Andy. Was the king trying to set him up with his daughter? By heaven, he hoped not. Karrie had enough unreasonable ideas without her father encouraging her.

    Karrie grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the door. He swallowed a sigh and let her lead him out of the royal apartment. Outside the sumptuous quarters waited the same plain gray halls as everywhere else in the castle. Damien loved visiting Uncle Andy, but it felt good to get back into surroundings he found comfortable. Now if he could just get Karrie to loosen her death grip on his arm so he could walk without tripping on her.

    Damien turned right. His quarters sat on the same floor as the royals¡¯, but in the opposite wing. ¡°Could you give me a little space before we fall?¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± She rubbed her small, firm breasts against his arm.

    Damien hesitated a moment before he pulled gently away. He needed this complication right now like he needed to wrestle a demon barehanded. ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±

    She released his arm and pouted. ¡°Why? There are half a dozen boys that would cut their best friend¡¯s throat to walk with me.¡±

    Damien didn¡¯t doubt it, especially if she acted with them the way she did with him. ¡°I believe it. You¡¯re a beautiful girl, and a princess too.¡±

    ¡°Then what¡¯s the problem?¡± She reached for his arm again and Damien sped up.

    He needed to get back to his room before he said something wrong. He doubted Karrie heard no very often and he didn¡¯t know what sort of reaction he¡¯d get if he told her straight out he didn¡¯t like her that way.

    She hurried to walk beside him then laughed. ¡°If you keep speeding up we¡¯ll be running through the halls.¡± Karrie took his hand. ¡°There, that¡¯s not so bad, is it?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± A right turn and three more doors and he¡¯d be at his room. He¡¯d hold her hand for a couple of minutes and call it a night.

    They finished the walk in silence. Damien tried to let go and reach for the door, but Karrie didn¡¯t let him. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to invite me in?¡±

    Damien had no intention of inviting her in. He barely had to force a yawn. ¡°No, I¡¯m beat.¡±

    Karrie stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him, her tongue darting in his mouth for a moment before she stepped back. Damien stared at her, no idea what to say, no coherent thought in his head beyond wondering where she learned to kiss like that.

    ¡°I told you when we were little I would marry you one day and I meant it. I hate those arrogant, soft boys, with their fake compliments and eyes on Daddy¡¯s throne. Daddy already thinks of you like a son, Mom likes you too, and I like you a lot. The only one that seems to have a problem with this is you. I have to marry in three years, and get betrothed in two. I have no interest in fending off smelly, grabby noble boys for two years. You¡¯re a hero and you saved Daddy¡¯s life today. No one would complain if he announced our engagement after all you¡¯ve done.¡±

    Damien did his best to process her speech, but it overwhelmed him. After the battle and what was happening under their feet right now, he didn¡¯t have the wherewithal to deal with this right now. ¡°Good night, Princess. Sleep well.¡±

    He freed his hand and fled into his room, closing the door firmly behind him. He took slow, deep breaths, trying to get his heart rate down. He didn¡¯t know what to feel, what to think. He didn¡¯t love Karrie, but that kiss¡­ The pounding in his ears didn¡¯t fade until the click of her heels moved beyond his hearing. He sighed and stepped away from the door. What was he going to do?

    Something sparkled on his desk, distracting him from the princess. He locked the door and crossed the dark room to his plain wooden table. Glowing words sat on the top. They read: She broke. My office. Dawn.

    So the archmage convinced the assassin to talk. He wondered for a moment what shape the woman was in then dismissed the thought as irrelevant. She had tried to kill Uncle Andy. She deserved what she got.

 2.4

    Damien strode down the hall toward the archmage¡¯s office. She¡¯d chosen a place well away from noise and people. In fact, judging by the smell, he figured at some point in the past the small room had served as a storeroom for chamber pots. Damien hadn¡¯t been brave enough to point that out.

    He absently took a bite of the egg and cheese sandwich he¡¯d begged from the kitchen, his mind elsewhere. Damien had come to an arrangement with the cook. In exchange for not stealing her rolls he could get a snack whenever he wanted. This suited Damien as he usually woke up early and hated waiting to eat. His master rose early as well and he hoped she¡¯d enjoy the second sandwich that floated along beside him in a soul force bubble.

    Damien fought off a yawn. He hadn¡¯t gotten much sleep last night. The attack and torture had pumped him full of adrenaline. Add the princess¡¯s proclamation that they were getting married, his preferences be damned, and it was a wonder he slept as much as he did. Surely the king could have found a better match for Karrie than him.

    On the other hand, having seen some of the elder members of the nobility, maybe he couldn¡¯t. Nevertheless Damien had no intention of marrying Karrie, he just had to find some way to make that clear to her and the king.

    Right.

    Damien wished he had time to make a quick trip to The Citadel to visit Lizzy and see what she thought about all this. The demon spirit understood relationships better than he did. Getting to be with her, even for a little while, would soothe his nerves as well. Heaven¡¯s mercy, he wished they could spend more than an hour here or there together every few months.

    Nothing marked the door as belonging to the archmage. It just looked like a plain oak door with an iron pull. It didn¡¯t even have a lock. Not that it needed one. If she didn¡¯t want anyone inside, a soul force barrier would keep people out better than any normal lock.

    He popped the last of his sandwich in his mouth and stepped up to the door. Muffled voices, neither of them sounding happy, filtered out into the hall. Damien frowned. She must have had a meeting before him. He moved a few steps away and leaned against the wall. He didn¡¯t want his master thinking he had been eavesdropping.

    A minute later the door slammed open and a tall, fit young woman in her early twenties, with short brown hair stalked out, her face twisted in an angry scowl. She wore leather pants, knee-high boots, and a blue shirt that showed her figure to good effect. She stormed past Damien, glaring at him as she went.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    What had he done?

    She turned a corner that led to the main gate. Damien shrugged. Whatever her problem, it had nothing to do with him. He pushed off the wall, walked over to the open door and poked his head in. The archmage sat in her chair behind a battered desk, head in her hands.

    ¡°Is this a bad time, Master?¡±

    She looked up and offered a wan smile. ¡°No. Is that for me?¡±

    Her gaze locked on the sandwich floating beside him. Damien guided it over, transforming the bubble into a plate and landing it on her desk. ¡°I thought you might be hungry.¡±

    She took a giant bite out of the sandwich. ¡°You were right.¡±

    Less than a minute later the food was gone. She sighed. ¡°Thank you. I always intend to get breakfast, but something often comes up. Sit down.¡±

    Damien dropped into the padded mahogany chair in front of her desk. To his right a cherry bookcase held hundreds of leather-bound books. ¡°Was the unhappy young woman I saw what came up today?¡±

    ¡°My daughter, Lane. She¡¯s one of the kingdom¡¯s leading diplomats. I just gave her a new assignment.¡±

    ¡°The moment I saw her I thought diplomat, either that or berserker. I take it she didn¡¯t care for her new task?¡±

    His master smiled. ¡°No, the assignment didn¡¯t bother her. She¡¯s mad because I assigned you to be her bodyguard. Lane doesn¡¯t like sorcerers.¡±

    Damien raised an eyebrow at that. ¡°The daughter of the archmage doesn¡¯t like sorcerers? That sounds awkward.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve made peace. I don¡¯t know if you noticed, but she doesn¡¯t have any extraordinary power. Being born the daughter of a leading sorcerer and having no power of her own was hard for Lane. Spending time around sorcerers reminds her of what she doesn¡¯t have.¡±

    Damien could relate to that. ¡°What about the assassin?¡±

    ¡°Right, that¡¯s the reason you¡¯re accompanying Lane. Baron Trasker hired the assassin to kill the king. He¡¯s a border baron, one of ten. They¡¯ve been complaining about taxes and threatening to secede from the kingdom, leaving us open to raids from the bandits living in the badlands. Lane¡¯s going to their annual meeting to try and negotiate a settlement.¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°And I¡¯m going to keep her safe from Trasker.¡±

    ¡°Partly, but mainly you¡¯re going in case she fails. If the barons can¡¯t be persuaded to see reason you¡¯re to remove them from their positions.¡±

    ¡°As in¡±¡ªDamien drew a finger across his throat¡ª¡°permanently?¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Keeping the border secure is too important to jeopardize because of petty, noble greed. It will also make a good example for their eventual successors. I¡¯ve spoken to the king and you have full authority to resolve this with whatever force necessary.¡±

    Damien nodded again. She wasn¡¯t starting him off with an easy mission, to say the least. ¡°Does Lane know my real job?¡±

    ¡°No, and I prefer you not tell her until the last possible moment. I don¡¯t want her to think I don¡¯t have faith in her abilities.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Anything else?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget to check in at each stop. If I have new information I¡¯ll pass it along. Keep my daughter safe and come home in one piece. Good luck.¡±

 2.5

    Damien left his master to brood in her office and followed Lane to the main gate. He couldn¡¯t stop smiling. Even if she hated him, any assignment that got him out of the capital for weeks or maybe months was right up Damien¡¯s alley. When in doubt, delay. Sound, if not especially brave, tactics.

    He didn¡¯t meet another soul until he reached the gate guards who waved him through. Since the ceremony last week everyone knew Damien and he could go wherever he wanted with no trouble. He shivered in the chill breeze as he passed under the raised portcullis, and through the open gates. A thin blanket of snow covered the ground, but the riot of footprints made it impossible to tell where Lane had gone.

    Damien frowned and turned back to the guards. ¡°Did you fellows see an attractive, pissed-off looking woman with short brown hair come this way?¡±

    ¡°I believe she was headed for the stables,¡± the right-hand guard said.

    Damien touched his forehead in salute and headed left, expanding his shield and heating the air around him as he went. The stink of the stables, though reduced by the cold, still made them easy to find. Why would she bother with horses when he could fly them to the border in a day?

    He found Lane in a fur-lined cloak right outside the stables, adjusting the straps of the saddle on a bay gelding. Her breath puffed in the air with each tug of the strap. Damien strode up and stopped a few feet away. ¡°Morning. I¡¯m Damien St. Cloud, I¡¯ll be your bodyguard for this mission.¡±

    Lane gave the strap one last yank and straightened up to face him. Jade eyes flashed in the bright morning sun. ¡°So my mother said. I¡¯ll tell you what I told her, I don¡¯t need a bodyguard and I certainly don¡¯t need a sorcerer tagging along on a diplomatic mission. All you people are good for is blowing things up.¡±

    Damien certainly had a knack for blowing things up, but he liked to think that wasn¡¯t the extent of his talents. ¡°We don¡¯t need horses, you know. I can fly us to the border by nightfall.¡±

    ¡°Ha! If we fly in there, they¡¯ll know you¡¯re a sorcerer and they¡¯ll think you¡¯re along to intimidate them into doing what the king wants. If the barons feel threatened the negotiations will be over before they start. Besides, the meeting isn¡¯t until March first. If we ride and take it easy, we should make it just in time.¡±

    Ten weeks on the road and away from Karrie, that sounded fine to Damien. ¡°Do you have supplies?¡±

    ¡°The grooms are loading a mule. There are army supply posts every ten days where we can get more food and swap horses. Are you ready?¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°I need to pack my gear and grab a sword so I¡¯ll pass for a regular bodyguard. Other than that I¡¯m good to go.¡±

    ¡°Well hurry up, I want to be out of here inside the hour.¡±

    Damien nodded and jogged back toward the keep. When he¡¯d moved past the guards he wrapped himself in an invisibility screen and flew a few inches off the ground so his steps wouldn¡¯t draw attention. A lot of sorcerers forgot that part when they turned invisible. Clomping steps from thin air drew people¡¯s attention. Not that he¡¯d get in trouble if someone caught him, he just didn¡¯t want to deal with the princess.

    He flew through the halls at the speed of a brisk run, dodging servants and messengers as he went. The halls quieted as he approached the living areas. A single chambermaid carried a pile of towels toward the laundry. Damien floated silently as she hurried past him, then he turned toward his room.

    He landed outside the door and let his screen fade. Getting ready shouldn¡¯t take long. He could pack everything he owned in five minutes.

    Two minutes later he had a change of clothes, a spare set of boots and his curved dagger tucked away in his rucksack. His sword he strapped to his back then covered it with a heavy fur cloak. He wore both for appearances rather than need. Damien glanced in the mirror and nodded. He looked like a proper bodyguard.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡±

    Damien spun to face the door and found Karrie standing there, arms crossed and frowning. He¡¯d been visible for two minutes. How had she found him? ¡°I¡¯ve got a mission, guard duty for the archmage¡¯s daughter. Your father knows about it.¡±

    Her frown deepened. ¡°He didn¡¯t say anything to me. I know Lane Thorn. She¡¯s very pretty. I suppose you prefer spending time with older girls.¡±

    Damien would have preferred spending time with Lizzy, who had existed since the dawn of time, so he supposed that made her an older girl. Lane, on the other hand, appeared to hate him on principle. He doubted it would be an especially pleasant trip. ¡°Guarding Lane is a job, and I assure you she hasn¡¯t the slightest interest in me, nor do I have any in her, beyond keeping her safe. We have a task to complete. When it¡¯s finished we¡¯ll come back, so relax.¡±

    Her frown softened. ¡°I don¡¯t like you hanging around with another girl, but I suppose it is your job. See that you keep it professional. We¡¯ll continue our conversation when you return.¡±

    Karrie turned in a swirl of silk skirts and sauntered down the hall back toward the royal residence. Damien wanted badly to shout at her back that she wasn¡¯t his girlfriend and it was none of her business who he spent time with, but she might come back if he did, so he held his peace.

    Damien retraced his steps back to the stable and found Lane sitting in her saddle, reins held in one hand, the lead of an overloaded mule in the other. ¡°Ready?¡±

    Damien nodded and started to conjure a mount.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Lane¡¯s disagreeable voice stopped him halfway through the process. ¡°You¡¯re posing as a regular bodyguard, remember? No sorcery; you ride the same as me.¡±

    He grimaced, both at her patronizing tone and the idea of having to ride a bouncing, jostling, uncomfortable horse for ten weeks. A stable boy led a saddled roan mare out of the long building. Damien accepted the reins, nodded his thanks, and checked the saddle straps. Everything looked good and tight.

    He hung his rucksack from the pommel and swung up into the saddle. ¡°Satisfied?¡±

    ¡°Hardly.¡± She clucked her tongue and led the way toward the outer gate.

    Damien tapped his mount¡¯s ribs and followed her. This was going to be a long trip.

 2.6

    Damien figured they managed fifteen miles before the sun dropped so low in the sky that they had to stop and make camp. The roads this close to the capital had little snow to bother them, the tread of hundreds of horses and wagons having stomped it down to nothing. Damien appreciated that almost as much as he appreciated the invisible soul force pad he¡¯d conjured between him and his mare. Lane couldn¡¯t see it and what she didn¡¯t know about she couldn¡¯t yell at him for.

    She led them off the road into a caravan cutout, a little open patch where travelers could make camp. The clearing could accommodate ten wagons and fifty people, so the two of them and their three animals made little impression.

    Six inches of fresh snow covered the ground. No one had used this cutout for a week or two at least. The ring of stone surrounding the fire pit looked like a circle of miniature snowmen.

    ¡°Do you want to tend the horses or clear off a spot for us to sleep and start a fire?¡± Lane asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m good with either.¡± It surprised him that she¡¯d bothered to ask what he wanted instead of just giving him his marching orders.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the horses.¡±

    Lane dismounted and he joined her, passing his reins over. She led the animals to a small clump of pasture pine at the edge of the cutout. Damien kicked around through the snow like he was using his feet to clear it off. Beside him an invisible broom ten times the size of a normal one brushed the ground clear in a couple of minutes.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.Damien left the now-clear campsite and went to join Lane by the trees. Maybe he could find some dry branches to get a fire going. When he arrived she had the horses unsaddled and was busy rubbing his mare down. She looked up as he approached; she must have heard him tromping through the snow.

    ¡°What?¡± She sounded mad. The woman sure carried a lot of anger.

    Damien held his hands up in surrender. ¡°I¡¯m just looking for firewood. Unless you¡¯d rather eat a cold dinner and freeze tonight.¡±

    She mumbled something and went back to rubbing his mare.

    ¡°What?¡±

    Lane looked back up. ¡°I said, I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m not really mad at you, I¡¯m mad at Mom for assigning a sorcerer as my bodyguard. She knows I don¡¯t like being around people like you.¡±

    Damien chuckled and kicked through the snow, looking for fallen branches. He picked up a few and when he straightened Lane stood three feet away, hands on hips. ¡°What¡¯s so damn funny?¡±

    ¡°You. You and everyone else. They all want to define me by my soul force. Dad¡¯s disappointed because I¡¯m a sorcerer and not a warlord. Most of the other sorcerers don¡¯t want anything to do with me because of how dense my soul force is. And it¡¯s the only reason your mother took me on as an apprentice, despite knowing nothing else about me. There¡¯s more to me than my power, you know.¡±

    Now it was Lane¡¯s turn to laugh. ¡°I have the exact opposite problem. People judge me by my lack of power. My whole life I¡¯ve been held up to the example of my mother and been found wanting. Now you come along. Yeah, I know all about the demon and the dragon and every other thing you¡¯ve done in your short career. You¡¯re everything I was meant to be.¡±

    Damien collected some more sticks. ¡°Don¡¯t be jealous of my power. All it does is separate me from everyone. Aside from my sister and a few friends, no one will look at me as anything but a threat or tool. If that¡¯s the life you¡¯re pining for, you¡¯re welcome to it.¡±

 2.7

    Jen strode down the hall toward her father¡¯s office in The Citadel, the hard soles of her boots tapping on the stone floor. He¡¯d summoned her earlier and she hoped he had a new mission planned for her and her squad. The war had ended after Damien blasted that dragon and while the feast and all the compliments had been nice, she wanted to get back out in the field. Maybe he¡¯d send them out to hunt down some stray ogres, that would be a good workout.

    She reached back and brushed the hilt of her new sword where it jutted up over her shoulder. It still felt warm from the remnants of her brother¡¯s soul force. She shook her head. Some of the things Damien had done boggled her mind, and crafting the sword was the least of them.

    Her little brother had grown strong. Jen went back and forth between pride in all that he¡¯d accomplished and sadness that he no longer seemed to need her.

    The cadets were all in class or outside training and the empty halls agreed with Jen. It seemed like she couldn¡¯t take a step out of her room without attracting stares. The boys had always stared, of course, she¡¯d made peace with that years ago.

    But since the war, the stares had a different quality. The desire was still there, but now there was a little awe and fear mixed in. She didn¡¯t really understand it since her brother had done most of the extraordinary stuff, but she¡¯d been there and survived, so maybe that was enough.

    Damien told her how people at The Tower avoided him after the demon incident and she wondered if she was going through something similar. Whatever it was she¡¯d be glad to get out of The Citadel for a while.

    Her father¡¯s office door had a golden shield nailed to it, a replica of the badge of office he wore pinned to his uniform. She knocked and pushed the door open. The spartan room matched Dad¡¯s personality. He sat at a simple oak desk in a hard, straight-backed chair. A stand for the demon sword¡ªshe¡¯d never gotten comfortable with Damien calling it by its nickname¡ªrested at his right hand. She knew Dad could have the blade out and at a person¡¯s throat faster than she could blink. A three-shelf bookcase filled with military manuals along with a pair of chairs for guests completed the furnishings.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.Jen ignored the two empty chairs in front of the desk and stood with her hands clasped behind her back. ¡°Reporting as ordered, sir.¡±

    Dad looked up for the first time. ¡°Jennifer, sit down. I have your next mission.¡±

    Eager now, Jen slid into the left-hand chair. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    He steepled his fingers and looked at her through the gaps. ¡°What I¡¯m about to tell you doesn¡¯t leave this room. Unfortunately a number of people know already, but I¡¯d just as soon not spread the information any faster than necessary. An attempt was made on the king¡¯s life two days ago.¡±

    Jen¡¯s breath caught in her throat.

    ¡°Andy¡¯s fine,¡± her father hastened to add. ¡°Your brother was there and he captured the assassin. The report I received says he saved a lot of lives. If they didn¡¯t want to keep it quiet I suspect he¡¯d be up for another medal.¡±

    Jen caught the barest hint of pride in her father¡¯s voice. Maybe he and Damien would finally become a little closer. ¡°That¡¯s a relief. Do you want my squad to track down whoever hired him?¡±

    ¡°Her, not him, and no, I don¡¯t. The interrogators persuaded the assassin to talk. They know who hired her. Your brother¡¯s looking into that end.¡±

    Jen frowned. If Dad didn¡¯t want them to track down whoever hired the killer, what was their mission?

    ¡°Are you familiar with a merchant prince named Dominic Santen?¡±

    ¡°Of course, anyone that¡¯s spent any time in Port Valcane knows the Santen family. They own a third of all the businesses in the city and rumor is they control another third indirectly. Why?¡±

    Dad drummed his fingers together. ¡°The assassin used an illusion of Dominic Santen to sneak into the throne room and now, according to the Valcane watch, Dominic is missing. Your job is to find him and determine if he¡¯s collaborating with the assassin or if he¡¯s a victim.¡±

    ¡°Why us? The Valcane watch is competent, never mind that their captain is a pig. Surely they can track down a missing merchant.¡±

    Dad nodded. ¡°I¡¯m sure they could. The problem is we have no idea how many of them have divided loyalties. Since the Santen family controls so much of the city we can assume they have more than a few watchmen in their pockets.¡±

    ¡°And if they¡¯re working with whoever hired the assassin we can¡¯t count on the watch¡¯s loyalty.¡± Jen saw it clearly now. ¡°I understand. It¡¯ll take us a month to ride to the coast.¡±

    ¡°No, it won¡¯t. You remember Master Shen?¡±

    Jen nodded. The good-natured sorcerer had taught her class the basics of surviving an encounter with a sorcerer. Run the other way as fast as you can.

    ¡°Master Shen will fly your team to the city then remain there in case you need sorcerous backup. The assassin they hired was a sorcerer after all. Questions?¡±

    ¡°No, sir.¡± Jen stood. ¡°Dead or alive, we¡¯ll find him.¡±

    Dad nodded. ¡°Be careful. I have no idea what sort of mess you¡¯re walking into.¡±

 2.8

    The wind streamed through Jen¡¯s hair when she leaned over the side of the golden chariot. Her heart raced and she couldn¡¯t stop smiling. She¡¯d never flown before and the sensation exhilarated her.

    Below them the sprawling expanse of Port Valcane squatted in the dying sunlight. The oldest city in the kingdom, Port Valcane was the first village the settlers carved out of the wilderness when they arrived from the Old Empire. It had grown a thousand times since then, and now covered a mile north to south and three-quarters of a mile east to west.

    She¡¯d gotten to know the city well in her year there, from the stink of the fish market to the perfume of the merchant villas. Jen preferred the fish. At least they weren¡¯t apt to bite you. Most of the merchants she¡¯d met would put a dirk in your kidney for an extra copper.

    Jen¡¯s good mood dimmed a little when she considered what awaited her down there. Her former commander, Watch Captain Tosh, expected them to report in the moment they landed. A competent administrator, Captain Tosh had a bad habit of touching his female subordinates. If he laid a hand on her this time she¡¯d knock his teeth down the back of his throat. She was visiting the city as an independent investigator for the crown and he had no authority over her. Of course, he could make her job a lot harder if he ordered his watchmen not to cooperate.

    A groan pulled her mind back to the present. Edward slumped against the side of the chariot, his skin a sickly green. They hadn¡¯t flown out of sight of The Citadel before he¡¯d thrown up over the side. To say flying didn¡¯t agree with him would be putting it mildly. She knew people got sick on boats, but she¡¯d never heard of anyone getting sick while flying. In Edward¡¯s defense, the only other person she knew that had flown before was Damien, and nothing much bothered him.

    She patted her subordinate on the shoulder. ¡°Just a few more minutes.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, after we check in we should get something to eat.¡± Alec grinned. Like Jen he seemed to have enjoyed the flight. ¡°I hear good things about the fish stew.¡±

    Edward scrambled to get his head over the side of the chariot before he gagged. Rhys and Talon laughed.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Jen shook her head and frowned at Alec. He winked back. She turned away so he wouldn¡¯t notice her smile. The youngest member of her team had a crush on her and she didn¡¯t want to do anything to encourage him. Romance between teammates never ended well and once in a while it ended with someone dead. If she could help it, no one in her command would die.

    The chariot descended toward the city. From the front Master Shen said, ¡°You enjoyed the flight. You and your brother have the same smile.¡±

    She left Edward to his gagging and moved up beside the dark-haired sorcerer. ¡°It¡¯s wonderful.¡±

    Edward let out an especially loud gag.

    ¡°I enjoyed it anyway. I can¡¯t speak for everyone.¡±

    Master Shen laughed. ¡°I know a couple sorcerers who don¡¯t like to fly, though neither of them so loudly as your man. It¡¯s not for everyone.¡±

    He reached into an inside pocket of his gray cloak and pulled out a six-inch stick of pale, polished wood. She took it and found it warm in her hand. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a call stick. I infused enough of my soul force into it to last a week. Just break it if you need me and I¡¯ll come as fast as I can. If the investigation takes more than a week we¡¯ll need to meet up so I can reenergize it.¡±

    Jen slipped the stick into the pouch on her belt. ¡°I assumed you¡¯d be working with us.¡±

    Master Shen shook his head. ¡°Sorcerers make people nervous. You¡¯ll have better luck on your own. I have a task of my own, straight from the archmage no less.¡±

    He offered no details so Jen assumed he had orders to keep them to himself. That didn¡¯t bother her. She had things of her own she couldn¡¯t talk about. ¡°Do you want to plan a spot to meet in six days to compare notes and recharge the call stick?¡±

    ¡°Good idea. Are you familiar with The Mermaid?¡±

    ¡°Sure, everybody knows The Mermaid. They have the cheapest drinks and best food in the city. Not exactly a private place for a meeting.¡±

    ¡°On the contrary, it¡¯s a perfect place for a meeting. The crown owns the tavern. We have a sorcerer on duty at all times, listening in to the gossip. You¡¯d be amazed what you can learn if you just listen. When you arrive, ask the barman for the capital suite. He¡¯ll give you a key and walk away. Go to the third floor and turn right, it¡¯s the last door on the left. If I¡¯m not there when you arrive, I will be shortly.¡±

    Jen tried not to stare and failed. She¡¯d worked in the city for a full year and had no idea the government owned The Mermaid. ¡°Does Captain Tosh know about this?¡±

    ¡°No one in the city government knows.¡± Master Shen turned to face her, his usually smiling face serious. ¡°The city government doesn¡¯t always have the capital¡¯s best interest at heart. Don¡¯t mention the tavern to anyone. You never know who might be listening.¡±

    Jen stepped back to let Master Shen concentrate on landing the chariot. What had seemed a simple mission now looked a good deal more complicated.

 2.9

    Captain Tosh¡¯s office looked just the same as Jen remembered it. A huge mahogany desk covered with curlicue inlays filled with gold dominated the center of the room, a single chair for guests in front of it which she ignored, preferring to stand with her men. A bookcase filled each corner, curios rather than books covering the shelves.

    The captain had never been one for study. He always claimed he read enough reports over the course of the day that the last thing he wanted to do was read books in his spare time. Behind the desk a window looked out over the glittering city.

    The sun had set just as Master Shen landed the chariot, and now glow lamps twinkled on every street corner. Captain Tosh¡¯s office sat on the top floor in the northeast corner of watch headquarters. It took up a quarter of the floor all by itself, though she couldn¡¯t pin that one on him. The office hadn¡¯t changed in two hundred years.

    Behind the garish desk Captain Tosh reclined in a soft leather chair and looked at them through half-closed eyes. A short, barrel-chested man, with an oiled goatee and polished fingernails, the captain considered himself the angels¡¯ gift to women. Whether the women agreed or not concerned him little.

    He leaned forward and smiled. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you what a pleasant surprise it was to hear my favorite former subordinate was leading the investigation into Dominic¡¯s disappearance. Jennifer, you¡¯re looking as beautiful as ever.¡±

    Tosh¡¯s oily grin turned Jen¡¯s stomach in a way the flight hadn¡¯t. The less time she had to spend in the pig¡¯s presence the better for both of them. ¡°Have you made the arrangements for us to speak with the family?¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    He heaved a dramatic sigh. ¡°Always right to business with you. Same old Jennifer. The family has agreed to see you at ten tomorrow morning. Dominic¡¯s widow¡­ahem¡­wife, have to stay optimistic, is too distraught to talk, but the eldest son, Mikhail, has agreed to meet with you.¡±

    Good of him considering they had a royal charter to investigate this matter that gave them the authority to go anywhere and talk to anyone they wanted, whenever they wanted. ¡°I appreciate that. I won¡¯t take up any more of their time than necessary.¡±

    ¡°Go easy, Jennifer. The boy¡¯s lost a father after all. I trust you¡¯ll keep me informed of anything you discover.¡±

    Jen nodded, intending to tell him as little as possible. ¡°As time permits. I assume you¡¯ll inform your men to provide whatever help we need.¡±

    ¡°As long as it doesn¡¯t interfere with their duties. I still have a city to keep safe.¡±

    So, they understood each other. Jen would offer him as little information as she could and he would offer her as little help as he could. She and her squad were basically on their own, which she¡¯d expected.

    ¡°Best of luck with your investigation, Jennifer.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Captain.¡±

    Jen led her team out of Tosh¡¯s office, into the hall, and past his assistant, a pretty blond girl about half Tosh¡¯s age. How many bruises did she have from the captain¡¯s pinches? They left the bored girl behind and headed toward the stairwell.

    ¡°Talk about sleazy,¡± Talon said.

    Jen held a finger to her lips. They needed to stay quiet until they left headquarters. They arrived on the first floor and, luckily for them, avoided the main processing area where the watch brought in criminals, handled interrogations, and basically took care of business. A back door by the staircase led to the street. Jen took a deep breath of cool night air.

    ¡°Can we talk now?¡± Alec asked.

    ¡°No.¡± Jen turned north toward their inn. She wouldn¡¯t feel comfortable until they had locked the doors behind them and checked for spies.

 2.10

    Princess Karrie marched away from Damien¡¯s room, a frown creasing her forehead. What had Daddy been thinking, sending Damien off on a mission so soon? She¡¯d only just begun working on him and it would take weeks to wear him down enough that he¡¯d accept the inevitable. She would marry him, and that was that.

    A servant scurried out of her way, but Karrie paid her no more attention than she did the paintings that decorated the walls every few feet. It would have been ideal if Damien wanted to marry her as much as she did him, but it didn¡¯t look like that would happen. If she knew who she was up against it would make it much easier to turn him to her way of thinking.

    Maybe he preferred older girls, like Lane. Karrie chewed her lip. That didn¡¯t seem likely. He hadn¡¯t shown any great interest in her when Karrie had said something. Damien clearly regarded Lane as a job and nothing more.

    Maybe someone from The Tower? It made sense that he might have another sorcerer for a girlfriend. How could she find out?

    She barged through the door to the royal quarters, eager to take her father to task over sending Damien away. The kitchen and dining room sat empty and spotless, no doubt thanks to the efforts of the servant she¡¯d seen earlier. She took a couple of steps and peeked into the sitting room. Empty, though a small fire burned in the hearth. Daddy must have had a meeting.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°Mom!¡±

    ¡°In the sewing room, dear.¡± Her mother¡¯s faint voice came from the back of their quarters.

    Karrie rushed down the carpeted hall, past their bedrooms, to her mother¡¯s sewing room. The small room had a pair of windows that let in the morning sun. Her mother sat at her square embroidery hoop, her delicate stitches creating a scene of dragons flying through a clear sky.

    Mom set her needle down and looked up at her. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, dear?¡±

    Karrie plopped down on the floor facing her mother. ¡°Dad sent Damien on a mission. I just started working on him. How can I convince Damien to do what I want if he¡¯s not here?¡±

    ¡°My dear girl, badgering the boy won¡¯t convince him to do what you want. You need to tease him and seduce him. It takes time. When he comes back try playing hard to get. Maybe invite one of those boys that¡¯s always chasing after you to visit the castle. Make him jealous. Ideally you want him to come to you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s bad enough I have to deal with those idiot boys at the stupid balls the nobles and merchants are constantly throwing. The last thing I want is to have them hanging around the castle as well.¡± Karrie chewed her lip some more. ¡°And what if it doesn¡¯t work? I¡¯m not sure Damien likes me that way. If he doesn¡¯t he¡¯s likely to feel relieved instead of jealous.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Mom tapped her chin. ¡°That¡¯s a good point. I¡¯d assumed every boy would want to marry you. You are the heir to the throne. But that probably doesn¡¯t mean much to Damien. He¡¯s too much like his father. Fredric always hated politics. Well, if the usual tactics don¡¯t work we¡¯ll try something more drastic. One thing is certain. If you wish to secure your reign and not become some man¡¯s arm candy, you need Damien. His power, combined with a disdain for politics, make him perfect. With him at your side no one would dare challenge your rule.¡±

 2.11

    The Santen family villa covered more ground than the king¡¯s castle back at the capital. Painted white and trimmed with gold, the main house stood two stories tall. White marble statues beside elaborate topiary animals decorated the sprawling, manicured grounds. From the main house, two single-story wings spread left and right. The whole thing together had enough space to house an army.

    The squad stood across the street from the estate¡¯s iron gate. Jen crossed her arms and studied the place. How much had it cost to build? A gilded red carriage rolled down the cobblestone street. A pair of stunning white geldings pulled it, guided by a coachman in black-and-red livery.

    Aside from the carriage the streets in the Lord¡¯s District were quiet. No street vendors shouted, no kids ran around playing, she hadn¡¯t even seen a servant out running an errand. They were far enough inland that the creak of the docks and rush of the waves didn¡¯t reach them. Only the faint tang of salt in the air mixed with the yeast and cinnamon from the bakery behind them gave any sign that the ocean was close.

    The district felt dead.

    She shuddered. Dead as Dominic Santen most likely.

    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± Talon asked.

    They¡¯d arrived a little early for their meeting with Mikhail Santen so they could scout the place. ¡°You and Rhys will come with me to interview the son. Talon, you focus on his heart rate. Rhys, watch his pupils. You two will be my lie detectors. Edward, stay here and keep an eye out for trouble. I don¡¯t expect any, but better safe than sorry. Alec, I want you to snoop around the grounds. Check out security, get a feel for how hard it would be for someone to sneak in, grab Dominic, and escape.¡±

    Everyone murmured their agreement, though Edward grumbled about getting stuck as lookout. He¡¯d also left his maul at the inn. It made him stick out too much to be practical in the city. He¡¯d settled for hiding a handful of daggers about his person.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Jen strode across the street with Talon and Rhys beside her. Alec seemed to vanish as he accelerated away from them. Edward leapt up to the roof of the bakery behind them and crouched down behind the chimney.

    The gate was unlocked and swung open at Jen¡¯s touch. Either it served no purpose beyond decoration or the family had unlocked it in expectation of their arrival. Jen thought the former more likely than the latter. A white gravel path wound through the grounds toward the curved steps up to the front door. A pair of guards, the first Jen had seen, armed with spears and short swords, stood on either side of a set of massive, intricately carved double doors.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    The men crossed their spears. ¡°Name and business?¡± one asked.

    ¡°Jennifer St. Cloud here to see Mikhail Santen. He¡¯s expecting me.¡±

    They moved their weapons aside and the guard who¡¯d spoken nodded. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. We just needed to be sure who you were.¡±

    They pulled the doors open and Jen walked into a foyer twice the size of her family¡¯s quarters at The Citadel. A garish marble fountain shaped like a dolphin sprinkled water out its blowhole into a pool at its base. On either side of the room, curved staircases led up to a second-floor balcony. Jen half expected to see Mikhail standing there, looking over them. Closed doors to the left and right opened into the mansion¡¯s wings. Straight ahead a short hall led deeper into the main house. A slim, pretty brunette with short, curly hair, wearing a servant¡¯s black-and-white uniform with a too-short skirt appeared from deeper in the house.

    The servant curtsied. ¡°Master Mikhail said to bring you to the sunroom. Follow me, please.¡±

    Jen nodded and motioned for her to lead the way. They went through an arch, turned left, and continued down a white, marble hall lined with carved busts of men Jen didn¡¯t recognize, probably past heads of the family. At the end of the hall an open door led to a round room, the walls consisting of solid glass. A young man dressed in a fine black tunic and trousers, a long, drooping mustache decorating his face, sat in a blue-upholstered armchair. A matching chair three feet away faced him.

    ¡°Mikhail Santen?¡± Jen asked.

    The young man nodded and waved an indifferent hand at the empty chair. The servant bobbed another curtsy and scampered out. Jen frowned at the lack of courtesy shown to an agent of the crown, but kept quiet. She sat facing the arrogant merchant, Talon and Rhys taking up positions behind her.

    ¡°I¡¯m here investigating your father¡¯s disappearance. Is there anything you can tell us about it?¡±

    He leaned forward, his bloodshot brown eyes half covered by long brown hair. ¡°You say disappearance, but you mean murder. My father has never been out of contact for this long. Only death would cause him to worry Mother so.¡±

    ¡°I say what I mean. Since no body has been found I assume he¡¯s alive somewhere, perhaps being held against his will.¡±

    Jen tried to force sympathy she lacked into her voice. ¡°Does your family have many enemies?¡±

    Mikhail threw back his head and laughed. ¡°No one gets as rich as us without making enemies. And the richer you are the more enemies you make. We have many.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you could narrow it down a little for us?¡±

    ¡°The Blackman clan despises us for forcing them out of the shipping business, as though it¡¯s our fault their ships are outdated and often arrive late. The Corno clan nurses an old grudge over timber rights in the Great Green. There are many others, but those two are the most vocal.¡±

    ¡°Did your father travel with bodyguards?¡±

    ¡°Always. Six men led by a female warlord, Citadel trained, like you lot. We¡¯ve heard nothing from them either. Probably eaten by sharks.¡±

    ¡°What were¡ª¡±

    Talon laid a hand on her shoulder bringing Jen up short. ¡°What?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°Someone drew steel outside.¡±

 2.12

    Jen sharpened her hearing and the distant ring of steel on steel reached her. She leapt to her feet and pulled her soul-forged blade from its sheath.

    Footsteps pounded outside, getting closer.

    ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this?¡± Mikhail asked.

    Jen grabbed the merchant and yanked him behind her. Soul force flowed, strengthening her muscles and hardening her skin. Not a moment too soon.

    The windows shattered as an armored figure leapt through them. Glass shards bounced off Jen¡¯s iron skin.

    The stranger wore a full helm, gauntlets, and a mail coat that covered him from neck to knees. He carried a four-foot-long great sword. He whirled the blade around his head and sliced one of the chairs in half.

    Jen rushed forward at full speed. Her sword streaked toward the invader¡¯s neck.

    His speed a match for hers, the great sword rose to block her attack. Unfazed, Jen continued the assault, her weapon a blur as it slashed and stabbed.

    High, low, left, right, the armored man blocked her every effort.

    Damn, he was fast.

    Talon streaked in from the side, his double blades driving for the man¡¯s unprotected legs. The invader leapt straight up, six feet into the air, carrying seventy pounds of armor.

    Impossible.

    Talon caught a boot to the back as he went under his target. The powerful kick sent him flying out the shattered window and into the yard.

    Jen darted back into the fray. At the rear of the room Mikhail cowered behind Rhys. ¡°Get him out of here!¡±

    Rhys grabbed Mikhail and slung him over his shoulder. They raced away at warlord speed.

    Good, now she could focus on her enemy without worrying about the merchant. She drew deeper from her soul force. A tingle from the hilt ran up her arm, her brother¡¯s soul force reacting to her power.

    She swung with all her might. The invader caught the blow on his blade and staggered. He hadn¡¯t had time to set his feet after he landed.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Jen swung again. All power and no finesse.

    Every blow drove the armored figure back. It took everything she had just to manage that. This guy was strong, stronger than any warlord she¡¯d ever faced. Almost as strong as the demon.

    At the edge of the shattered window he bound her sword. Their guards locked and they jockeyed for position.

    Jen pressed against him with every ounce of strength she could muster to no avail. Dark sparks shot from his gauntlets.

    He grunted and forced her back a step.

    Jen leaned in, trying to hold her position.

    The gauntlets burst into black flames, just like the demon¡¯s claws.

    He forced her to retreat another step. Jen put everything she had into holding him, but he kept on coming. She couldn¡¯t beat him and Damien wasn¡¯t here to save her this time.

    The tips of two blades burst out of his chest. The black flames flickered.

    This was her chance.

    Jen disengaged and spun. Her blade sheared the stranger¡¯s head off. A fountain of black blood geysered out of his neck before his body collapsed to the floor.

    Talon stepped on his back and ripped his blades out. Jen gasped for breath. She¡¯d used everything she had.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Talon asked.

    She straightened and nodded. ¡°Stay here. Don¡¯t let anyone touch the body.¡±

    Jen left Talon standing guard over the corpse. Rhys wouldn¡¯t have gone far. She needed to make sure Mikhail was okay.

    Jen pulled the call stick out of her pocket and snapped it. Master Shen needed to have a look at those gauntlets.

    She found Rhys and his terrified charge in the foyer along with Edward and three more dead bodies. She kicked one over so she could see his face. He didn¡¯t look like much. Dark brown skin, beard, leather armor, scimitar, and a crushed skull.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°I saw these three run through the front gate and followed,¡± Edward said. ¡°I got two, Rhys got one.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a competition,¡± Rhys muttered.

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    They all looked up. Alec stood on the second-floor balcony, blood spattered on his white shirt.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°Sure, it¡¯s not mine. There¡¯s three more dead guys up here. Looks like they were trying to reach the wife.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Stay with her just in case. Edward, sweep the grounds, make sure we¡¯re done.¡±

    He nodded and vanished.

    Jen turned her attention to Mikhail. ¡°Who are they?¡±

    He held his hands out. ¡°I have no idea.¡±

    ¡°What about the big guy in the sunroom?¡±

    The merchant gave her a blank look. Jen flicked a glance at Rhys who shook his head. Either the merchant was telling her the truth or he was so terrified Rhys couldn¡¯t read his heart rate. Either way he was useless.

    Edward appeared as though out of nowhere. ¡°We¡¯re good. I found six dead guards, but no more like this bunch.¡±

    ¡°Good. Watch the front. Alec!¡±

    The young warlord dashed to her side. ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Go to watch headquarters and fetch a patrol. Maybe they¡¯ll know who these people are.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°You want ¡¯em here double quick or should I take my time?¡±

    ¡°Take your time. Hopefully Master Shen will turn up soon and he can take a look around before the locals show up.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡± He ambled out the front doors, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like a teenager out for a morning stroll. Only the blood on his shirt spoiled the image.

 2.13

    Jen paced in the Santen¡¯s elaborate foyer. Mikhail flinched every time she drew close, like he expected her to kick him. Two hours had passed since she sent Alec to fetch the watch and still no Master Shen. Where in the world was he? He¡¯d given her the call stick in case she needed him and now that she did he was a no-show.

    Edward appeared beside her. ¡°There¡¯s about twenty watchmen headed this way, your friend Tosh in the lead.¡±

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Jen walked back to the sunroom. Talon sprang up from the undamaged chair when she entered. ¡°Grab his gauntlets and go. We¡¯ll meet you a block north.¡±

    ¡°Will do.¡± Talon yanked the dead man¡¯s gauntlets off and sped away.

    Grumbling about unreliable sorcerers, Jen returned to the foyer. A minute later Captain Tosh strode through the door at the head of a war party of watchmen plus Alec. He looked down at the three dead men, a frown of distaste curling his lips.

    He glanced at the cowering merchant. ¡°Who¡¯s this asshole?¡±

    Jen glared at the merchant cowering behind Rhys like her subordinate would protect him. ¡°Mikhail Santen.¡±

    Tosh barked a laugh. ¡°Mikhail¡¯s about six inches taller and twenty pounds lighter than this guy.¡±

    ¡°Well?¡± Jen said.

    The imposter scrambled back a few feet before Rhys grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and lifted him off the ground. He shook the imposter like a dog with a rat. ¡°Speak up!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything.¡± The prisoner flailed at Rhys¡¯s impassive form. ¡°She paid me fifty royals to pretend to be the merchant for a day.¡±

    ¡°Who paid you?¡± Jen moved closer so she stood only inches from the squirming man.

    ¡°The girl. You know, in the servant¡¯s outfit. It seemed like easy coin.¡±

    Jen glanced at Alec and Edward and the two warlords accelerated away. It wouldn¡¯t take them long to search the grounds.

    ¡°Who is she?¡± Tosh asked, butting his way into her interrogation.

    ¡°How do I know, man? I was getting a drink at The Drowned Rat when this girl sidles up to me and whispers in my ear about a job, coin up front. I got here this morning real early like she said and found her in that servant getup. Thought maybe it was some kind of sex thing, you know. I wouldn¡¯t have complained either. She was gorgeous.¡±

    ¡°What about the job?¡± Jen asked, failing to hide her annoyance.

    ¡°Take it easy. She said some people wanted to talk to the merchant, but he wasn¡¯t in town. She gave me these fancy duds, a sack of gold, told me what to say, and then put me in the sunroom to wait for you. Like I said, easy money, at least till that armored guy smashed the windows in.¡±

    Tosh looked at her. ¡°Armored guy?¡±

    Jen nodded toward the arch. ¡°He¡¯s not going anywhere. Any of these slobs look familiar to you?¡±

    Tosh bent down and yanked one of the dead men¡¯s sleeves up to the elbow. He had a tattoo of a raven on the inside of his forearm. ¡°The Unkindness. They¡¯re a group of thugs and skull crackers that hire out to anyone interested. They usually work the docks.¡±

    Jen grunted. A moment later Edward and Alec arrived, causing Tosh to flinch.

    ¡°No sign of her,¡± Edward said.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°She probably took off as soon as she left us with him.¡± Jen jerked a thumb at the imposter. ¡°I think it¡¯s time we had a word with the grieving wife.¡±

    ¡°Maybe I should handle it,¡± Tosh said. ¡°She¡¯s bound to be terrified.¡±

    Jen waved him toward the stairs. If Tosh wanted to lead the way he was welcome. She followed the captain up the curved staircase to the balcony. At the top they had a choice of left or right.

    Tosh looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Jen enhanced her sense of smell and caught the coppery tang of blood to the right. She nodded that way and Tosh took the lead again.

    A short hall ended with a closed white door. The three dead men on the floor in front of it had gotten blood all over its pristine surface. Jen was glad she didn¡¯t have to clean the place.

    Tosh knocked on the door. ¡°Mrs. Santen? This is Watch Captain Tosh. Open the door please, it¡¯s safe now. Ma¡¯am?¡±

    Tosh glanced at her and she shrugged. What could she tell him? It wasn¡¯t like she could see through the door. He tried the handle, but it was locked.

    ¡°Move.¡± Jen brushed him aside, reared back, and kicked the door off its hinges. It flew ten feet into the room and skidded to a halt at the foot of a canopy bed the size of Jen¡¯s whole bedroom.

    ¡°Are you trying to give the poor woman a heart attack?¡±

    They stepped through the doorway into a cavernous white room empty of all furnishing save the giant bed. Surrounded by white pillows, with her body buried under a white comforter, Mrs. Santen¡¯s face looked tiny. Her eyes never opened despite the crash and clatter of the door. Jen didn¡¯t like the feel of this.

    She looked over at Tosh and from his slack-jawed expression suspected he had the same feeling. ¡°You wanted to go first, so go on.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Tosh favored her with a sour grimace. ¡°Mrs. Santen?¡±

    They eased closer, each taking a side of the bed. They drew closer still. The woman¡¯s gray, sallow complexion combined with the blue lips told Jen all she needed to know. She grabbed the giant blanket and yanked it back.

    She flinched. There was nothing but the woman¡¯s head in the bed. A dried pool of blood stained the white sheets under the blanket. ¡°So much for a heart attack.¡±

    Tosh frowned. ¡°Show some respect.¡± He flung the blanket up over the remains.

    ¡°Is that at least the correct person¡¯s head?¡±

    Tosh nodded and they retreated from the bedroom back toward the foyer. ¡°I met her a couple of times at government functions. What¡¯s going on in my city?¡±

    That¡¯s what Jen wanted to know. It looked like something bigger than a missing merchant. ¡°Someone has it in for the Santen clan. I doubt we¡¯ll find Dominic alive.¡±

    ¡°You mean to continue the search?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the mission. Until I find a body or someone tells me to stop, I¡¯ll keep looking.¡±

    ¡°What if I tell you to stop looking?¡±

    Jen laughed.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I figured. Try to keep the breakage to a minimum. We¡¯ll clean up here and notify the surviving family.¡±

    She stopped halfway down the stairs. ¡°There are more of them?¡±

    ¡°A daughter. She married into another merchant house. I can¡¯t recall which.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a good suspect. I assume she stands to inherit all this.¡±

    ¡°Probably. You want to come along when I talk to her?¡±

    Jen frowned. She needed to track down Master Shen and have him look at those gauntlets. Much as she wanted to hear what the daughter had to say, the sorcerer came first. ¡°I¡¯ll leave her to you. What do you say we meet up tomorrow morning and compare notes?¡±

    ¡°My office?¡±

    ¡°Fine. Do you still not get started until midday?¡±

    ¡°Funny. See you tomorrow.¡±

    They left the watch to deal with the villa and headed north to catch up with Talon. They found him leaning against the wall of a general store, the gauntlets tucked under his arm. ¡°What took you so long?¡± Talon asked.

    ¡°We went to talk to Mrs. Santen and found her head, but no body. Tosh is going to talk to the daughter. We need to get to The Mermaid and find out what in the world is going on with Master Shen.¡±

    ¡°What about Mikhail?¡± Talon asked.

    Jen grimaced. They¡¯d left the imposter with Tosh. She doubted they¡¯d drag anything more out of him. ¡°He was a dupe. A disposable tool the girl probably meant to have die in the attack along with the rest of them. The real one¡¯s still in the wind along with his father.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Talon stared at each of them in turn.

    ¡°I¡¯ll explain on the way.¡±

    They walked out of the alley and headed toward The Mermaid. When they left the Lord¡¯s District behind the streets grew crowded. People hurried along the sidewalks, running errands. All of them made way for Jen and her squad, many throwing sidelong glances at their weapons.

    The shouts of vendors filled the air. It seemed like the city came alive around them. It gave Jen a moment¡¯s pause, being surrounded by so much life only minutes after leaving a house full of bodies. Life went on and a house full of dead merchants and thugs wouldn¡¯t slow it down.

    The Mermaid lay in the Shipping District abutting the docks. The tang of salt grew stronger the closer they got to the water. The acrid hint of smoke mixed with the normal ocean smells. Jen looked up. Black smoke billowed in the distance.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Edward asked.

    ¡°I think The Mermaid¡¯s on fire.¡±

 2.14

    It took less than a minute to reach The Mermaid at warlord speed. Black smoke billowed out of the roof and flames shot from broken windows on the third floor. All around the burning building locals were gathering. People came running up the street with buckets. They¡¯d have a bucket brigade going soon. The fire hadn¡¯t spread too far yet. They might save some of the building. More likely they¡¯d just try to keep it from spreading to the neighboring businesses.

    Jen took a moment to orient herself. Unless she was badly mistaken the flames came from the capital suite. What were the odds of someone attacking the secret crown listening post and Jen¡¯s squad on the same morning?

    ¡°Talon, Rhys, fan out and look for the servant girl. Alec and Edward, with me.¡± She accelerated to the burning inn, her subordinates right behind her.

    They rushed past the gaping crowds so fast she doubted they even registered their presence. A quick glance showed the common room was empty, all patrons having sense enough to flee. Jen heightened her hearing, but the only sounds were shouting outside and the crackle of flame above them.

    She pointed toward the kitchen and Alec raced to check it out. She and Edward sprinted up the steps. At the second-floor landing she pointed again, leaving Edward to clear the floor. Jen continued up to the third floor and down the hall to the crown suite.

    Smoke filled the hall and the heat resembled an over-fired oven. She strengthened her lungs and ran on.

    The door to the suite was smashed. Judging by the damage someone had broken it in. Flames filled the doorway.

    Jen crouched down, trying to see into the suite. Even with enhanced vision the smoke and flames obscured too much. She needed to make sure.

    She drew power and slammed her palms together. The blast of wind blew the flames back from the doorway for an instant and she ducked through the gap.

    Flames seared her skin, forcing her to put more power into her defenses or get roasted. Even strengthened by soul force she needed to hurry. The common room held nothing valuable, just burning furniture. The first bedroom was empty and she began to fear she¡¯d wasted her time.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Jen kicked down the door to the last bedroom. A woman lay on the floor, her skin blistered and her clothes reduced to charred scraps.

    She scooped the woman up and fled the burning room as fast as her soul-force-enhanced legs would carry her. She reached the second floor a moment later. Away from the flames, Jen sent healing energy to soothe her seared skin. Edward joined her a moment later. He took one look and left again.

    He returned a second later with a pink fur-lined robe which he slung around her shoulders. Apparently her clothes hadn¡¯t stood up to the flames as well as her skin. ¡°Thanks. Take her.¡±

    Jen passed the unconscious woman to Edward and adjusted the robe so it covered her better. Pity he couldn¡¯t have found anything a little less garish.

    ¡°She¡¯s alive,¡± Edward said.

    ¡°Let¡¯s collect the others and get out of here.¡±

    Ten minutes later found them in Jen¡¯s room at their inn. They¡¯d collected a fair share of stares when they rushed through the common room. Despite the guys¡¯ best efforts you could only do so much to hide one burned woman and another in a pink robe. Rhys examined the woman while Jen changed into her spare outfit.

    ¡°How is she?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°Alive. Don¡¯t ask me how given all these burns. She needs a healer. The sooner the better.¡±

    Jen nodded. The only healer she knew was at watch headquarters, but if she brought the woman there it might lead to some uncomfortable questions. She needed more information and she needed it now.

    ¡°Can you wake her?¡±

    ¡°Maybe, but it won¡¯t be a kindness.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have the luxury of kindness. Do it.¡±

    Rhys nodded and dug a bottle out of his satchel. He passed it under the woman¡¯s ruined nose. She choked, gasped, and tried to sit up.

    ¡°Easy, you¡¯re safe now.¡± Jen sat beside her on the bed. ¡°Is there somewhere we can take you? The only place I can think of is the healer at watch headquarters.¡±

    The woman gave a vehement shake of her head. ¡°Secret,¡± she gasped.

    ¡°I understand. Master Shen told us about your work. Can we take you to him?¡±

    Another shake of her head. ¡°Missing.¡±

    ¡°Shit! Can we take you somewhere else?¡±

    ¡°Underbridge. Secret place. Emergency¡­¡± She passed out again.

    Jen stood up and paced. What should she do?

    ¡°Any of that make sense to you?¡± Talon asked.

    She stopped. ¡°Not much. There¡¯s no Underbridge district. There is a bridge across Cold River. Maybe they¡¯ve got a bolt hole there. That¡¯s all I can think of.¡±

    ¡°Whatever we¡¯re going to do, we need to do it quick. She won¡¯t last long with those burns,¡± Rhys said.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go for it. Rhys, you carry her. Edward, you¡¯re with me. Talon, take Alec and watch our back trail. I don¡¯t want to be followed.¡±

    Edward went to his room to retrieve his maul and this time Jen didn¡¯t object.

 2.15

    They wrapped the unconscious woman in blankets to keep her from freezing before they reached¡­wherever they were going. Jen¡¯s window opened into an alley so they went out that way, leaping down from the second floor with no trouble. The Cold River bridge was north of the city, maybe half a mile past the gate. Jen had only ridden over it once during her previous posting to Valcane.

    They raced through the quiet streets at half speed; Jen didn¡¯t dare try full speed with the injured woman over that distance. The timing worked out well. Most people were inside eating their noon meal. Those unfortunates who had to work outside in the cold went in to warm up, leaving the city a ghost town for half an hour, plenty of time for Jen¡¯s team to pass through.

    The north gate stood open and they ran out, the two guards standing beside a burning brazier not giving them a second look. The dirt road beyond the city was clear of snow thanks to the nearly nonstop traffic coming and going from the port. Talon and Alec accelerated to full speed and zipped back to make sure no one was following them. Jen and the others ran on, the bridge waiting only a minute away.

    The Cold River bridge was a tall, arched thing of fused stone and steel wide enough to accommodate two wagons side by side. The ravine it crossed wasn¡¯t especially wide or deep, but the chill of the river made fording a dim prospect. Even in summer the mountain streams kept the river frigid; at this time of year it was frozen solid.

    ¡°Stay here, I¡¯ll call if I find anything.¡± Jen skidded down the side of the ravine to the river bank. Fine gravel crunched under her feet when she hit bottom.

    She jogged over to the base of the bridge. The engineers had fused the legs to the cliff face. Even with her enhanced vision Jen couldn¡¯t tell where the cliff ended and the bridge began. She also couldn¡¯t find where this secret whatever was. Why couldn¡¯t the woman have stayed conscious long enough to tell her something useful?

    Jen studied the striated stone, mostly gray with a few streaks of pink. Nothing stood out. When she ran her finger over it looking for a seam she came up empty. After five minutes she¡¯d covered the whole area under the bridge and found exactly nothing. Had she misunderstood the woman¡¯s message? Was there a place named Underbridge she didn¡¯t know about?

    ¡°Shit!¡± She looked across the frozen river at the far side of the ravine. There was nothing for it, she had to check. At least the river was frozen so she didn¡¯t have to swim.

    The river ice felt as hard as stone under her feet as she made her way to the far bank. She slid sideways, caught her balance, and continued on. Jen reached the other side with no further trouble. Her breath steamed into the air as she searched. Every second reduced the woman¡¯s chances of surviving.

    The stone on this side matched the bank. Jen ran her fingers over the rough cliff face. There had to be something. If she couldn¡¯t find anything she didn¡¯t know what she would do.

    There!

    Something gave under her fingers. She pressed harder and a hand-sized section of stone pressed inward. A catch popped loose and a stone door swung in on concealed hinges.

    Jen threw a fist into the air in silent celebration. On the opposite side Rhys and Edward had seen her success and begun their descent into the ravine. She had no idea what they¡¯d find, but the cave had to be warmer than out here. Rhys crossed the river first, the woman cradled in his arms like a child. You wouldn¡¯t think it to look at the grizzled old veteran, but he could be surprisingly gentle.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Movement caught her eye. At the top of the ravine six figures in long, dark coats stood staring down at them. They looked like cousins of the goons they¡¯d killed at the villa. Jen put her fingers in her mouth and blew a piercing whistle. Both her men looked her way. She pointed up at the bank.

    Edward readied his maul. Jen gathered her legs and poured soul force into them. She leapt, covering the width of the river in a single bound, to land beside Edward.

    She glanced back at Rhys. ¡°Keep going! We¡¯ll handle this lot.¡±

    He nodded once and continued toward the cave.

    Jen drew her sword. Edward grinned beside her. ¡°Think this crew will be any tougher than the bunch from this morning?¡±

    ¡°I hope not. I want to finish this and have a real talk with that woman. And where the hell are Talon and Alec?¡±

    Edward shrugged, his already huge shoulders even larger as he poured soul force into them. ¡°Beats me. Maybe they got lost.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only a mile and a half to the bridge and there¡¯s a road. How could they get lost?¡±

    Another shrug. The six thugs slid down to the bank and halted about fifteen feet away. They rolled up their sleeves, revealing the black ravens. As one they dragged their thumbnails across the tattoos. Blood welled and the black ink came alive.

    Midnight flames danced along their arms. Several threw back their heads and howled, in pain or ecstasy Jen couldn¡¯t say. The black flames reminded her of the dark power that flowed from the gauntlets of the armored attacker.

    ¡°Be careful.¡±

    Edward grunted. ¡°Reminds me of those goblins we fought.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, only my brother isn¡¯t here to help us this time.¡±

    ¡°Ha! We can manage without the kid.¡±

    Jen wished she shared his confidence. The battle with the armored man had shown her how strong her opponents could be. If they weren¡¯t careful they might end up dead.

    The gang members had gotten themselves under control. Black flames surrounded their hands, ran up their arms, and burned in their eyes.

    They pulled short swords from hidden sheaths in their coats. The flames flowed from their hands down the blades.

    Jen clenched her sword and drew deep from her core. Soul force flowed, accelerating her perceptions, and strengthening her body. She raced forward at ten times her normal speed.

    She swung at the center thug. He leapt back and the two beside him thrust at her sides. Jen spun and slashed, gashing one across the thigh.

    The ground shook when Edward¡¯s maul missed its mark and struck the bank. She didn¡¯t dare spare a glance to check on her subordinate. Her original target darted back in, his swords thrusting high and low, fast as rattlesnakes.

    But not as fast as lightning. Jen drew more power and vanished. She appeared an instant later behind her opponent and hacked his head off.

    The others gave her no chance to celebrate. Three of them attacked her at once. Jen used every trick she knew and all her speed to keep clear of the darting blades.

    Damn, they were quick.

    Two came in from her left, their blades lunging toward her chest. Jen spun away from them and hammered the right-hand attacker with the side of her blade.

    He staggered left, his weapons tangled with one of his partners.

    Jen thrust her blade through the first thug¡¯s back and continued on into the second¡¯s chest. Before they died her opponents twisted, yanking the sword from her hands.

    Unarmed, Jen retreated before the third man¡¯s furious assault. She wove through rapid-fire thrusts, some missing her by inches.

    She needed her sword.

    Her opponent knew it too. He kept between her and his dead companions. It was a standoff.

    He lunged, swords leading. A length of wood flew down between his legs.

    Her opponent stumbled, his swords lowered for an instant. Jen hardened her knuckles and punched him in the side of the head, caving in his skull.

    She spun and found Edward standing over the crushed remains of his opponents. He threw her a little wave as if to say see, we didn¡¯t need Damien. She smiled, appreciating the gesture.

    Alec landed beside the dead man and collected his staff. ¡°You okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Jen retrieved her sword and cleaned the blade on one of the dead thug¡¯s coats. Talon skidded down to stand beside Edward, the gauntlets still tucked into his belt.

    ¡°Where have you two been?¡± Jen asked.

    Talon jerked a thumb toward the bodies. ¡°These guys had friends. We just killed another four of them. Tough bastards. They put up way more of a fight than the bunch from the villa.¡±

    ¡°I noticed.¡± Jen led the way across the ice at a brisk walk. She wasn¡¯t certain she had enough soul force left to jump it. If the others hadn¡¯t gotten back when they did, the fight might have been a lot closer. ¡°Let¡¯s see if Rhys has her patched up yet.¡±

 2.16

    The inside of the bolt hole reminded Jen of a small flat; they¡¯d even brought in a cheap carpet to cover the stone floor. There were two cots against the back wall. The unconscious woman lay on one, a blanket tucked around her. Her burns had healed enough that only white patches of skin remained and those would flake off in short order. Even her nose had grown back. Whatever healing supplies they cached here must have been potent.

    A fire burned in a little iron stove in the far corner, a full coal scuttle beside it. The stovepipe went through the side of the cave wall to vent who knew where. Rhys sat on a three-legged stool beside his patient, a half-full coffer of healing potions at his feet.

    Jen sat cross-legged beside her cot. ¡°How is she?¡±

    ¡°I rubbed three vials on her burns and she woke up long enough to drink three more. I think she¡¯ll be fine, but I¡¯m no expert. I heard fighting.¡±

    Talon and Edward leaned on either side of the tunnel back to the secret entrance. Alec had drawn guard duty and stood just inside the entrance to make sure no one snuck up on them. Jen had no idea how many members the Unkindness had, but she didn¡¯t plan to take any chances.

    ¡°Yeah, the thugs found us. This bunch had a new trick.¡± She described the black fire. ¡°It made them a damn sight tougher than the last group.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like the goblins,¡± Rhys said, echoing her earlier thoughts. ¡°How do you suppose they gained access to power like that?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°You got me. We need to find Master Shen. I¡¯m so far out of my depth I¡¯m drowning.¡±

    The woman groaned and tried to sit up. She failed and flopped back on the cot. ¡°Thirsty,¡± she said in a rough voice.

    Rhys shrugged off his water skin and handed it to her. She tried to sit up again and he put a gentle hand on her back, easing her into a sitting position. She drank deep and sighed. ¡°Thank you.¡± Her voice sounded better already.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. I¡¯m Jennifer St. Cloud. My squad and I were sent to find Dominic Santen. Master Shen said we could find help at The Mermaid.¡±

    She laughed, dry and bitter. ¡°That didn¡¯t work out very well. I¡¯m Mariela. I was sent to consult with the observation team a week ago. I¡¯m not sure how much I can do to help you, but anything within my power is yours for the asking.¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°Are you a sorcerer?¡± Jen¡¯s heart leapt at the thought of getting some extra power on their side. Maybe she wasn¡¯t as strong as Damien, but even a weak sorcerer would be a huge asset.

    Mariela laughed again. ¡°Hardly. I¡¯m a scholar. I specialize in supernatural threats, demons and angels, along with their cults. The team had seen an increase in cult activity in the city and wanted my opinion. I wish I¡¯d told them to take a flying leap.¡±

    Rhys chuckled and Mariela smiled up at him. Now that her face wasn¡¯t a mass of burns Jen realized she was an attractive woman with bright blue eyes, full lips, and prominent cheekbones. When her eyebrows and hair grew back she might even be beautiful. They looked close in age, maybe Rhys had found a girlfriend.

    Jen cleared her throat. ¡°Can you tell us what happened?¡±

    ¡°Sure. I was reading in the back bedroom when something exploded. I stuck my head out and saw a girl standing in the flames. Marco, our lead sorcerer, lay dead at her feet. The other two members of the team were slumped against a wall bleeding out. She spotted me. I slammed the door, but she punched through it and stabbed me with a blade of power that surrounded her hand. The next thing I remember is seeing you standing over me.¡±

    Jen frowned. ¡°What did the girl look like?¡±

    ¡°Pretty, petite, short curly hair. She wore a short black dress and went barefoot of all things.¡±

    Jen nodded, sounded like the servant girl was a sorcerer. ¡°What happened to Master Shen?¡±

    Mariela shook her head. ¡°No idea. He gave us a report about the attempted assassination and your search for Dominic. He said you should receive any help you needed and left. He mentioned something about spying on ravens. It made no sense to me.¡±

    It made sense to Jen. Master Shen had gone to spy on the Unkindness and ended up captured or killed. That wasn¡¯t good, but at least now they had a place to start looking for him. ¡°Can you tell me anything about Dominic Santen?¡±

    ¡°Not much. He was the head of the local cult of The Binder in Chains. Many of the richest merchants are members. It¡¯s as much social club as cult.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with that demon lord. Can you tell me anything about him?¡±

    Mariela smiled. ¡°The Binder isn¡¯t a demon lord, he¡¯s an archangel. His cult preaches absolute obedience and always following through on a contract. That¡¯s what makes him so popular with merchants.¡±

    ¡°Tyrants and slavers too, I imagine,¡± Talon said.

    ¡°Yes. The Binder¡¯s teachings are unleavened by any mercy or kindness. He¡¯s considered the harshest of the archangels. Some of the paladins I correspond with think if he doesn¡¯t find some way to soften his message he may fall.¡±

    Jen shuddered. A fallen archangel would be a horrible threat, easily as great as any of the five dragons. ¡°Do you think Dominic was a willing participant in the assassination attempt?¡±

    ¡°No. Absolute obedience, remember? Turning against the king would be a breach of his beliefs.¡±

    Jen didn¡¯t laugh, but it took some effort. She¡¯d seen more than once that belief often gave way to ambition.

 2.17

    The docks at night were a dangerous part of the city, especially with Jen and her squad sneaking through the shadows. Mariela had fallen asleep shortly after their conversation and she hadn¡¯t woken when they slipped out of the cave at dusk.

    Jen hated leaving the woman alone, but didn¡¯t dare spare one of her team to stand guard. They took four healing potions with them and left the other two for Mariela. Jen had no idea how many members the Unkindness had or how many could use the black flames, but she suspected they had enough that even together her team would have a tough fight.

    This close to the water the stink of fish guts mingled with salt and rum to assault her nose. Scores of ships creaked in their slips, everything from tiny sloops to three-masted caravels. The streets were practically empty. Anyone they met after dark in this part of town would mean them ill.

    The glow-ball lanterns had been smashed years ago and no one bothered to replace them. The only light came from the windows of the raucous taverns lining the streets. Dark as it was, to Jen¡¯s soul-force-enhanced eyes it might as well have been daylight. Despite her night vision she saw no sign of the Unkindness and she had no idea where they hung out. If they had to search every vomit-scented tavern in the docks it would be a long night.

    Jen leapt from her perch on the roof of a sail maker¡¯s shop to a tavern roof across the street where Talon crouched.

    ¡°See anything?¡± she asked.

    He pointed at a tavern three doors down. ¡°There¡¯s a pretty barmaid down there. If we live through the night I might introduce myself.¡±

    She slapped his shoulder. ¡°See anything useful?¡±

    ¡°Nah.¡± He patted the gauntlets on his belt. ¡°How long am I going to have to drag these around?¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Until we find someone to check them out. What¡¯s the matter, they too heavy for you?¡± She leapt away to check on the others before he could respond.

    Alec stood behind a meat smoker¡¯s chimney, the mouthwatering scent of rendering pork filling the air. Jen landed softly beside him. ¡°Anything?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°I really want some bacon.¡±

    ¡°We can have some for breakfast after we rescue Master Shen.¡±

    Jen leapt away. Three blocks further on she reached Rhys. The oldest member of the team stood in the shadows of a snow-clogged alley. ¡°Anything?¡±

    ¡°Edward slunk by a minute ago. He was tailing a likely looking fellow, but I have no idea if it panned out.¡±

    ¡°Which way?¡±

    He nodded to the right.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what he found. If we need help I¡¯ll whistle, so keep an ear out.¡±

    He nodded again and settled deeper into the alley. Jen leapt to the roofs and ran along above the street, eyes straining for any sign of Edward. She gritted her teeth. He should know better than to tail someone on his own, especially after seeing what the thugs could do.

    At last she spotted him standing in the shadows of an empty alley, his maul leaning against the wall behind him. His gaze was focused on a two-story brick building across the street. A glow lamp hung above a closed door at the top of a short flight of steps. Nothing about the place seemed remarkable to her.

    She leapt down and landed beside him. Edward never flinched. ¡°Report.¡±

    ¡°I followed a guy in a coat like the ones the thugs were wearing to that building across the way. He knocked and when the door opened he rolled up his sleeve and showed the raven tattoo. The door guard let him in then slammed and locked the door. That was about a minute ago.¡±

    Jen grinned in the dark. This was the best sign they¡¯d found so far. ¡°Do you think this is their base?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°No idea. I couldn¡¯t see past the guard. You want to go kick the door down?¡±

    Kicking the door down was the last thing she wanted to do. If the Unkindness heard them coming they might kill Master Shen, assuming he was still alive. ¡°Do you remember the knock he used?¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t sound like a code if that¡¯s what you mean. He just knocked, the door opened, and he showed off his tattoo.¡±

    ¡°Perfect. All we need is to get the door open. I¡¯ll fetch the others. If anyone comes out before I return take them into custody. And for heaven¡¯s sake keep it quiet.¡±

 2.18

    It took ten minutes for Jen to collect the rest of her people and rejoin Edward. When they arrived, a dead man lay on the ground beside him. Jen grimaced. ¡°This is not what I meant when I said take him into custody.¡±

    ¡°You said keep him quiet. He shouted when I grabbed him so I punched him. I may have hit him a little too hard.¡±

    ¡°No kidding,¡± Talon said.

    ¡°Did he have anything on him when he stepped out?¡± Jen asked.

    Edward shook his head. ¡°My guess is he¡¯s a messenger.¡±

    Jen eyed the dead man then turned to Alec. ¡°You look about the right size. See if his jacket will fit.¡±

    Alec leaned his staff against the wall and shrugged into the dead man¡¯s long coat. It was a little short, but not bad. ¡°What now?¡± He reached for his staff.

    ¡°Leave it.¡± Jen pointed to the hilt of a dagger sticking out of the top of his boot. ¡°Use that. Knock on the door and when the guard opens it, take him out. We¡¯ll be right behind you.¡±

    Alec walked across the street, the boot dagger in his right hand behind his back. He climbed the steps and knocked.

    Jen held her breath. If the guard raised the alarm they¡¯d had it, and most likely so had Master Shen.

    The door opened and the guard said something.

    An instant later Alec drove the dagger up under his chin and into his brain.

    They rushed across the street. Edward shouldered the body and dumped it with the first one.

    Jen tossed Alec his staff and they slipped inside, locking the door behind them.

    Beyond the door was a small room with a hard wooden chair and rickety table with a broadsheet on it. Apparently the guard enjoyed reading gossip while he waited. Jen glanced at the front page. Two months out of date; maybe he covered his eyes with it while he napped. A second door led deeper into the building.

    ¡°What if someone knocks?¡± Alec tossed the nasty jacket into the guard¡¯s chair. ¡°Won¡¯t they wonder where the guard is?¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t worry about that, unless you¡¯re volunteering to fill in.¡± Jen raised an eyebrow.

    Alec waved his free hand. ¡°Just asking. What now?¡±

    ¡°Now we have a look around and see if we can¡¯t figure out what¡¯s happening in this city. Talon, take point. Edward, rear guard. Let¡¯s move.¡±

    The second door opened on well-oiled hinges. Behind it a long, narrow corridor led deeper into the building. Talon went through first, silent as a hunting cat. Jen let him get a short lead before she followed, the others right behind her. As she slipped down the hallway she trailed her fingers along the wall. Whoever built it had faced the walls with rough-cut lumber. Whatever business fronted this place it wasn¡¯t high end.

    Talon stopped at the end of the hall. It ended in a T. ¡°Which way?¡±

    Jen couldn¡¯t see that it mattered. They¡¯d have to search both directions anyway. ¡°Right.¡±

    They continued right maybe five paces before coming to a door. Talon gave it a tug and it creaked open. Jen winced at the noise, which certainly sounded louder to her soul-force-enhanced ears than it really was. Inside they found crates, coils of rope, and block-and-tackle sets hanging from pegs on the wall. Apparently this building served as an outfitter for sailors. That made sense. There were probably another two or three just like it further down the street.

    ¡°Keep going, unless you hear a heartbeat,¡± Jen said.

    Talon nodded and continued down the hall. He paused at two more doors before continuing on. The hall ended at the rear of the sales floor. Everything you could imagine a ship needing filled the open space. Sails, rope, crates of nails, even barrels of withered apples.

    Whatever the Unkindness were up to, it had to be either upstairs or in the basement. Jen enhanced her hearing as much as she could and lay down on the floor. She pressed her ear to the boards and held her breath. A faint grinding reached her along with some muffled grunts. Someone was doing something down there. Whether the gang or some unlucky worker sharpening harpoons they¡¯d learn soon enough.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Someone¡¯s in the basement. Fan out and find the stairs.¡±

    With their enhanced senses it didn¡¯t take her team long to locate a door built into the wall. Rhys opened it and Talon had slipped through before she could say anything. Jen stood by the door, waiting for Talon to finish his scouting. The grinding she heard earlier sounded louder by the open door.

    A minute later Talon returned, his face pale. ¡°You won¡¯t believe it.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Jen asked.

    He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t have the words. Come on.¡±

    Jen followed her shaken subordinate down the short flight of stairs, the rest of the squad on her tail. What could he have seen that shook him so bad? At the bottom, a short hall led to a doorway through which came a dark, crimson glow. Something about that light chilled Jen to the bone.

    Talon motioned ¡°down¡± with his hand and they crouched as low as they could. Jen eased down the hall and peeked through the doorway. Her breath caught in her throat and her stomach twisted.

    The doorway opened out onto a catwalk that ran around the perimeter of a deeper room. Down in that pit people, both men and women, lay strapped to vertical tables.

    Their clothes hung in tatters. Hundreds of shallow cuts covered their bodies. Gags kept them quiet as people in long coats circulated amongst the prisoners. When a wound stopped bleeding one the torturers would slice a fresh grove in their flesh. Most horribly, the blood running out of the wounds flowed up toward a black circle in the ceiling a few feet from Jen¡¯s head.

    Every so often a drop of some black liquid dripped out of the circle and into a stone bowl placed under it.

    Jen stepped back from the doorway and clenched her fists. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to run down there and kill every one of those monsters.

    They needed more information. She didn¡¯t see any sign of Master Shen or the servant girl or for that matter Dominic Santen. It didn¡¯t look like they planned to kill those unfortunate people, just bleed them. Judging by the number of scabbed over wounds some of them had, they¡¯d been prisoners for a while.

    ¡°What now?¡± Talon gripped his swords and looked as eager as she felt to go down there and do some cutting of their own.

    ¡°I noticed a door on the far side of the catwalk. There must be some cells around here where they keep their prisoners. We have to try and find Master Shen. Whatever¡¯s going on down there it¡¯s beyond my comprehension. If we go stumbling into something blind some of us are going to get killed. Rhys, Edward, and Alec, stay here and keep watch. Talon, you and me are going scouting.¡±

    They left the others by the doorway and slipped out onto the catwalk. Whoever built it had bolted it securely to the wall; it didn¡¯t creak or wobble when they put their weight on it. Jen inched along, careful to make no noise. She glanced down into the lower level. A gang member was sharpening knives on a grindstone. That explained the noise.

    A woman with long, limp brown hair looked their way. Jen froze and motioned Talon to as well. They stood in the shadows and the woman was close to one of the braziers that provided heat and light for the torture chamber. She doubted the woman could see a thing in the deep shadows close to the ceiling.

    Jen let out a silent breath when the woman turned her attention back to the horrors close at hand. The door was only fifteen feet away, but it took Jen and Talon five minutes to reach it at the crawling pace they set. Jen pressed the dark wood and the door swung open without a peep. She looked up and sent a silent word of thanks to whatever angel watched over crazy warlords. Talon closed the door behind them.

    Beyond the door waited a pitch-black hall. Even with her enhanced sight Jen couldn¡¯t make out much. Her nose, unfortunately, wasn¡¯t hindered in the least. The stink of sweat, waste and blood filled the hall. She hated to risk it, but they needed more light.

    ¡°Open that door back up.¡±

    ¡°You sure?¡± The doubt in his voice came through loud and clear.

    Jen wasn¡¯t sure of a damn thing except that she was blind in the dark. They couldn¡¯t help anyone if they couldn¡¯t see them. ¡°Open it.¡±

    He eased the door open and dim light filtered through, just enough to let her see the row of cells lining the hall. Her lip curled in a snarl. If she¡¯d wanted to kill the Unkindness before, now she really wanted them dead, and not necessarily quickly.

    Ragged figures filled the left-hand cages, their bodies covered with freshly scabbed-over cuts. Grime covered them and from the smell she guessed their chamber pots had been emptied¡­never. She squinted, trying to make out the details of their faces. Master Shen had to be here somewhere. He¡¯d only been gone a day so he should be in better shape than the others.

    Jen worked her way down the hall. None of the pathetic figures reacted to her. Whether they couldn¡¯t see her, or they didn¡¯t have strength enough she didn¡¯t know. She reached the end of the prison and someone groaned from her right. She turned and, alone in a cell, lay Master Shen.

    They¡¯d stripped him to the waist and cut a bunch of gashes in him. He wore no restraints and didn¡¯t stir when she moved closer to him. She grabbed the door and pulled. Even with her enhanced strength the steel door didn¡¯t budge.

    ¡°Master Shen.¡± She spoke just above a whisper and even that seemed far too loud.

    He groaned and turned his head toward her. His face was a mass of bruises and one eye had swollen shut. She winced and tried again. ¡°Master Shen, I can¡¯t open the door.¡±

    He crawled toward her, but only managed to get a few feet closer. He muttered something.

    ¡°I can¡¯t understand, Master.¡±

    ¡°Drugged.¡±

    Of course they¡¯d drugged him. He couldn¡¯t use his powers if he couldn¡¯t concentrate. Jen fished a healing potion out of her pocket and reached as far into the cell as she could. He stretched out a trembling hand, fumbled, and finally got a grip on the vial.

    He ripped the cork out of the top with his teeth, spat it out and drank the potion in one gulp. His bruises faded and the gashes on his chest shrank. A minute later he sat up and rotated his arm, and nodded.

    ¡°Thank you, Jennifer. I feared I¡¯d die in this awful place.¡±

    Relief flooded through Jen. ¡°Can you open the door?¡±

    He conjured a golden key and fit it into the lock. A second later it clicked and she pulled it open. He stood up and joined her in the hall. ¡°What do you say we escort these people out of here?¡±

 2.19

    Master Shen pointed at the wall. A lance of golden energy shot out and he cut a circle in the wood. The disk fell into the snow outside with a dull thump. Jen glanced back at Talon who stood just inside the doorway. He shook his head. No reaction from the torturers.

    Jen hurried over and crouched beside him. ¡°Fetch the others. We¡¯re getting these people out of here.¡±

    ¡°With pleasure.¡±

    Talon eased out onto the catwalk and Jen went back to join Master Shen. ¡°You¡¯ve regained your power.¡±

    ¡°I never lost it.¡± He spoke in the same low tone. ¡°I just couldn¡¯t focus enough to use it. I¡¯m eager to hear how you found me, but this isn¡¯t the time.¡±

    Jen seconded that. He conjured keys for the other cells and unlocked them. The rest of her squad arrived a moment later. ¡°Get ¡¯em out of here,¡± she said.

    Rhys went in the first cell and helped people to their feet. Alec helped them to the door and Talon and Edward guided them out the hole in the wall. The prisoners staggered and shuffled down the hall. This was taking too long. Jen gritted her teeth and kept quiet. They could only move as fast as they could move.

    They emptied the first cell. It held ten of the sickest, scrawniest looking people she¡¯d ever seen. While Talon half-carried the last prisoner out into the alley Rhys moved on to the second cell.

    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± The servant from the Santen¡¯s villa floated at the entrance to the cell block. Power sent her short hair flying every which way. She¡¯d traded her servant¡¯s outfit for an equally short black dress. Like Mariela said, her feet were bare.

    ¡°You!¡± Master Shen sent a blast of raw soul force down the hall, barely missing Jen, and sending the enemy sorcerer hurtling back into the far wall. He raced after her and explosions followed a moment later.

    Jen grimaced. This was getting out of hand fast. She grabbed Edward as he passed. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you have to carry them, but we need to speed this up. If we don¡¯t hurry, those two will bring this dump down on our heads. Spread the word.¡±

    A crash sounded from upstairs and shattered boards rained down into the pit. Come on, Master, fight her in the air, away from the building. A bald, broad-shouldered gang member with black fire burning in his eyes leapt up onto the catwalk. He carried a four-foot-long double-bitted ax and was running toward Jen.

    She drew her sword and forgot all about the dueling sorcerers.

    Jen met her opponent at the doorway. She had to keep him out of the cell block. He swung the broad-bladed ax with all his might. Jen hopped back. The ax tore a two-foot chunk out of the doorway.

    She lunged, hoping to finish him before he recovered.

    Somehow the man batted her attack aside with the haft of his ax.

    Jen recovered and blocked his back cut.

    This guy moved every bit as fast as the other bunch they¡¯d fought.

    She slashed high, low, high. He blocked every attack. Jen repeated the series with the same result, a lot of noise and no blood.

    Her sword went high then low again.

    The thug raised his ax, anticipating her high slash. Just as she¡¯d hoped.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!Jen spun and cut low again. Soul-forged steel sliced through the flesh of his thigh, taking the unfortunate man¡¯s leg off above the knee. Jen kicked him in the chest. He flew over the edge down into the pit.

    She walked to the railing and leaned over. Like rats fleeing a sinking ship the thugs rushed down a hole in the floor. Jen leapt over the rail. Maybe she could capture a couple of them.

    Two rushed her, short swords drawn. They lacked the black flames and she cut them down in seconds. Those seconds proved expensive. The door to the secret passage swung shut and a lock engaged. She stomped on it, but the thick metal lid didn¡¯t budge.

    ¡°Damn it!¡±

    She could do nothing about the escaping thugs so Jen turned her attention to the bound and bleeding prisoners. She sheathed her sword and grabbed a fallen knife. An emaciated man flinched at her approach.

    Jen cut his hand free. ¡°Easy, I¡¯m here to help.¡±

    She freed the second hand and he slumped against her. ¡°Heaven bless you, girl.¡± He gasped the words out like it took the last of his strength.

    Edward landed beside her and took the unconscious man out of her arms. Another blast shook the building. It sounded farther away. Maybe Master Shen realized he was about to collapse the place on them.

    Jen moved on to the next victim. It took her team two minutes to free all twelve prisoners and carry them up and out of the pit. Jen paused as Rhys carried the last woman up the iron steps. The black disk on the ceiling shimmered like water and a drop of darkness fell into the bowl.

    Jen grimaced and kicked it over. The nasty stuff oozed across the floor, sizzling and burning stone. She shuddered. What could they use that crud for?

    Maybe she didn¡¯t want to know. Jen leapt up to the catwalk and followed Rhys out the hole in the wall. Above them streaks of energy lit the sky. She couldn¡¯t tell who was winning.

    ¡°Did we get everybody?¡± Talon asked.

    ¡°All the prisoners, but some of the gang escaped.¡± Not a perfect victory, but when she looked at the huddled figures shivering in the snow Jen figured maybe it was close enough. ¡°Let¡¯s take these people somewhere warm.¡±

    An explosion shook the night and Master Shen fell from the sky. Jen leapt and caught him eight feet from the ground. They landed close to the hole he¡¯d cut in the wall. ¡°You hurt?¡±

    He grunted and looked up. Jen followed his gaze. Hovering above them, an armored figure sat astride a black horse with glowing red eyes and flames around its feet and tail. The knight wore a great sword strapped to his back and a full helm shaped like a leering demon that hid his face. Inscribed on his breastplate was a huge, horned skull.

    Beside him the sorcerer floated, a little pout on her pixie face. ¡°You spoiled my fun, Mikhail.¡±

    Mikhail!

    This was the missing Santen heir?

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that!¡± Mikhail said. ¡°Mikhail Santen is dead. I am Sir Darkness, a demon knight.¡±

    The sorcerer grimaced. ¡°I am not calling you Sir Darkness, Mikhail, or anything equally pretentious.¡±

    Black flames gathered around his bare hands. ¡°You dare question my commands?¡±

    Jen hoped they¡¯d kill each other and save her a lot of work, but the sorcerer raised her hands. ¡°Of course not, my lord. Hey, how about that? ¡®My lord¡¯ would be a good thing to call you.¡±

    He nodded once and the flames vanished. ¡°It will do.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Jen shouted. ¡°Where¡¯s your father?¡±

    Mikhail turned his attention to her and a chill ran through Jen. His eyes were pits of fire. ¡°Dead. I cut his heart out and his blood fueled my ascension to greatness. I¡¯ll never again have to listen to his prattle about obedience and following the rules. I make the rules now.¡±

    His gaze shifted. ¡°I wondered what became of those.¡± He held out his bare hands and the gauntlets on Talon¡¯s belt flew up and slid over them. He flexed his fingers. ¡°Now die, worms.¡±

    A black ball of crackling energy formed in the air in front of him.

    Jen grabbed Master Shen and ran back to the others.

    The sphere shot toward the alley. Master Shen raised a golden barrier.

    White snow and black energy washed over them. Jen braced the slender sorcerer.

    The assault lasted only moments. When the snow settled, all that remained of the Unkindness¡¯s base was a smoking crater. Master Shen slumped in her arms and his barrier vanished.

    Jen eased him to the ground. ¡°Everybody okay?¡±

    Her squad all indicated that they were, even the prisoners survived the attack. Jen studied the sky. No sign of the sorcerer or Mikhail, thank heaven.

    Master Shen groaned and sat up. Jen helped him to his feet. He wobbled, but stayed upright. ¡°Are you all right, Master?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Some of the corruption penetrated my shield. It would have been unpleasant if I was in peak condition. As I am now it stunned me. Is everyone safe?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you did it.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± He turned toward the smoking crater. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing we were only on the edge of the blast. If his aim had been better¡­¡±

    ¡°I have a lot of questions, Master Shen.¡±

    He smiled and patted her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sure. I have my share as well, but they¡¯ll all keep until we reach somewhere warm.¡±

 2.20

    ¡°I thought I told you to keep the breakage to a minimum.¡± Captain Tosh sat behind his desk. A vein in his forehead throbbed in time with his heart. ¡°Do you call blowing up a building in the docks minimal breakage?¡±

    Jen and Master Shen sat across from him. They¡¯d retreated to Jen¡¯s inn long enough to change clothes before leading the victims to watch headquarters. Some kid fresh out of training had been dispatched to fetch the captain. He¡¯d arrived ten minutes later, shirt half tucked in and hair uncombed. Jen managed not to laugh.

    The former prisoners were downstairs getting looked at by the healers. The rest of the squad had stayed with them to offer what reassurance they could. That left Jen and Master Shen to handle the inevitable explanations. She would have preferred to fight a dozen thugs.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t destroy the building. I rescued the prisoners and their jailor didn¡¯t appreciate it.¡±

    Tosh ran a hand through his rumpled hair. ¡°Just walk me through it. Start with what happened after we parted ways.¡±

    Jen paused to gather her thoughts and try to figure out how to tell the story without revealing the secret spying operation, but couldn¡¯t see any way around it.

    ¡°I told Jennifer to look up an old friend of mine if anything happened,¡± Master Shen said, saving her the trouble of making up a story. ¡°Mariela told her about my efforts to investigate the Unkindness so she tracked them down and freed me along with the other prisoners. Mikhail Santen murdered his father to gain demonic powers which he used to destroy the building in an attempt to murder us. He fled with a female accomplice. Where they are now we have no idea.¡±

    ¡°A handful of the gang escaped under the building, I assume into the sewers,¡± Jen said.

    ¡°That¡¯s it? That¡¯s your whole explanation?¡± Tosh stared at them.

    Jen shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s what happened. It hasn¡¯t even been a full day since we left the villa. What more do you want?¡±

    Tosh waved a hand. He looked exhausted. ¡°Nothing. I don¡¯t want a thing. I trust you¡¯re finished with your investigation and will be leaving my city soon.¡±

    ¡°Tomorrow morning,¡± Master Shen said. ¡°I need sleep and food before I¡¯ll have strength enough to transport us to the capital.¡±

    ¡°Fine, just don¡¯t blow up anything before you leave.¡±

    Jen opened her mouth to protest, but Master Shen laid a restraining hand on her wrist. They took their leave of the weary captain, collected her men along with many thanks from the former prisoners, and headed to Jen¡¯s inn. She had a ton of questions, but when she started to ask, Master Shen shook his head.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    They stopped outside the inn. The sun was just coloring the horizon. ¡°Order some breakfast and wait for me in your room,¡± Master Shen said. ¡°I¡¯m going to collect Mariela. I¡¯ll be back soon.¡±

    He leapt into the air and faded from view. Jen shook her head and led the way in. The smell of fresh bread washed over her and her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn¡¯t eaten in a full day. A serving girl bustled around the common room, wiping tables and straightening chairs. It wouldn¡¯t be long before the other guests came down to eat.

    Jen waved her over and ordered a large breakfast to be sent up to her room. She flipped the girl a gold royal and went upstairs. Fifteen minutes later a tapping sounded on her window. She saw nothing, but opened it anyway.  Something brushed against her and a moment later Master Shen shimmered into view, Mariela held in his arms.

    He laid the scholar on Jen¡¯s bed and sat on the edge. The woman looked better. The last of the dead skin had flaked off and her hair had grown back, only an inch long, but still. Six healing potions could work wonders.

    A knock sounded on the door. Outside two serving girls held trays laden with food. Edward and Alec collected the trays and closed the door. Master Shen waved his hand and nodded. ¡°We can speak now. I¡¯ve blocked all sound from leaving the room.¡±

    Jen fixed an egg-and-bacon sandwich and leaned against the wall. ¡°So what was that black disk in the ceiling above the torture room?¡±

    ¡°A hell gate. A small one, thank heaven. Someone opened it for them and they fed it blood to get demon essence.¡±

    ¡°You mean that black stuff?¡± Jen finished her sandwich and moved on to the pastries. ¡°It looked like a lot more blood went in than black stuff came out.¡±

    Mariela sat up. ¡°It runs about a gallon of blood to a quarter ounce of essence.¡±

    ¡°What do they do with it?¡± Alec asked around a mouthful of ham.

    ¡°You saw the ones with the black flames?¡± Master Shen asked.

    They all nodded.

    ¡°What are they anyway, the flames?¡± Talon asked.

    ¡°For the gang members the flames were simply a visible manifestation of the demonic power running through their bodies. They represent the flames of hell. For a warlock or a demon the flames are the shape their corrupt soul force takes unless they chose to transform it into something else. The gang used the essence to ink their tattoos a second time. When they shed their blood it triggered the power which took the shape of the black flames. What you missed was the aftermath. Normal humans aren¡¯t equipped to handle that much soul force, much less corrupt, demonic soul force. Most of them would have dropped dead the instant the power dried up.¡±

    ¡°Mikhail didn¡¯t seem to have much trouble,¡± Jen said.

    Master Shen frowned. ¡°He¡¯s a different matter altogether. Mikhail bonded his soul to a demon, most likely that ugly flying horse he was riding. It allows him to draw on the demon¡¯s power, but when he dies the demon consumes his soul and grows stronger.¡±

    ¡°Seems a little short sighted,¡± Rhys said.

    ¡°Usually, but demon binding grants immortality as well, so as long as no one kills him the demon doesn¡¯t get his soul. If the binding was done correctly it can¡¯t betray him either.¡±

    ¡°So what happens now?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°Eat, sleep, and tomorrow we fly back to the capital where I report to the archmage then I¡¯ll fly you back to The Citadel to report to your father.¡±

    Jen sighed. This was one mission she didn¡¯t regret finishing.

 2.21

    A little after noon the first supply station came into view. It jutted up out of the snow several hundred yards ahead of them. Damien had never felt so glad to see a building, even a slumping, three-room shack like the station, in his life. Eight days of riding and sleeping in a tiny, two-person tent with a woman that barely tolerated him left him eager for a bed and someone, anyone, else to talk to. A bath wouldn¡¯t hurt either of them as well.

    Behind the station a fenced-in paddock and modest stable housed about ten horses. Army patrols stopped at the station to swap injured mounts and tend to tack and shoes. No soldiers manned the place, only a farrier, stable master, and their apprentices. It struck Damien as a peaceful if tedious post.

    They rode around to the paddock. From the stable a middle-aged man with a beard wearing a heavy fur-lined jacket ambled out to meet them. ¡°Can I help you?¡±

    ¡°We need fresh mounts and supplies,¡± Lane said.

    ¡°Yeah, and you are?¡±

    She frowned and fished around in her furs. After a moment of hunting she pulled out a badge and pointed it at him like it was a crossbow. ¡°Lane Thorn, diplomatic corps. This is my bodyguard.¡±

    No introduction for him. Damien tapped his forehead in a two-fingered salute. ¡°Damien St. Cloud, pleasure.¡±

    The stable master studied the badge a moment then nodded. ¡°Looks official. You two staying the night?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Damien didn¡¯t give Lane a chance to speak. ¡°Please tell me you have a tub in this place.¡±

    He glowered at Damien. ¡°Of course. Just because we¡¯re in the middle of nowhere doesn¡¯t mean we live like savages. Leave the horses and mule to me and the boys and head on in. Nigel can show you where everything is.¡±

    Damien swung down and grabbed his rucksack. Lane joined him, pausing to collect the smallest of her bags from the back of the mule. They trudged through a foot of snow to the back door of the station. An iron ring served as door knob and Damien pulled it open. He went through first like a proper bodyguard.

    The main room had a big, potbellied iron stove in the center that threw off a pleasant heat, its chimney running up through the roof. Four chairs sat around a rough-hewn dinner table. Two closed doors, one straight ahead and a second to his right, led to other rooms. Not exactly luxury, but it would do.

    Lane came in behind him. ¡°What a dump.¡±

    The door straight ahead opened and a bald man wearing a leather apron stepped into the room, a crossbow at his shoulder ready to fire. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Damien was halfway across the room before he finished the question. Damien leapt onto the table, gathered himself, and leapt again.

    His heel crashed into the man¡¯s crossbow. It clattered to the floor.

    Damien grabbed the man by the throat and slammed him into the wall. ¡°Nigel?¡±

    Nigel croaked something then settled for nodding.

    ¡°I¡¯m Damien, that¡¯s Lane. We¡¯ll be spending the night tonight. The stable master said you could show us where everything is. If I let you go you¡¯re not going to go for that crossbow, right?¡±

    A red-faced Nigel shook his head.

    ¡°Good.¡± Damien released him and stepped back. ¡°Crossbows make me nervous.¡±

    Nigel coughed and rubbed his throat. ¡°You didn¡¯t look nervous. Who are you again?¡±

    Lane flashed the badge a second time. ¡°Diplomatic corps. You must forgive my bodyguard. He can be over protective.¡±

    Nigel coughed again. ¡°You don¡¯t say.¡±

    Damien bent down, removed the bolt from the crossbow, and uncocked it. ¡°Here. Be careful, you could hurt someone with that thing.¡±

    Nigel managed a hoarse laugh. ¡°Yeah, like myself. Dinner¡¯s a few hours away. Want me to set up the tub?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± he and Lane said at the same time.

    The second door led to a supply room with an open space for the heavy iron tub. They melted snow on the stove to fill it. The whole process took half an hour. It would have taken double that, but Damien sped up the project with a little subtle sorcery.

    Of course, Lane went first. She went in and slammed the door. A moment later it opened again. ¡°I¡¯d better not catch you peeking.¡±

    ¡°Can I peek as long as you don¡¯t catch me?¡±

    Lane slammed the door again. He took that as a no. Damien had only been half joking about peeking. Lane was a beautiful woman if you looked past her personality. He wouldn¡¯t have minded a closer view of those long legs. He sighed. The look wasn¡¯t worth the argument. Anyway he had more pressing matters to attend to.

    Damien dug a scrap of paper and pencil out of his kit and wrote a quick, two-sentence note to the archmage. She¡¯d taught Damien how to send his constructs to a location he knew so he didn¡¯t have to guide the message the whole way. He conjured a bird and sent it to his master¡¯s office. That little task finished he pulled a chair over beside the stove, grabbed a second one to use as a footstool and settled in to wait.

    A hot bath followed by a hot meal left Damien in a much-improved mood. His good mood soured slightly when Nigel explained that they had to sleep on the floor. At least they were inside and warm.

    Damien woke early as usual and found a scroll on his chest sealed with crimson wax. A reply from the archmage. How had she gotten that scroll inside the station?

    He slipped out of his bedroll and headed for the outhouse. Damien shivered when the cold air hit him. With a thought he increased the temperature of the air inside his shield. It was pitch black out this early in the morning, but the short path was well marked.

    Damien closed and latched the door of the rickety little building. He conjured a tiny light and settled down to read. One good thing about the cold: it kept the stink to a minimum.

    Fifteen minutes later he finished reading about Jen¡¯s adventure. It sounded like she¡¯d had a rough time. She was okay, and that was what mattered. At least they knew Dominic Santen hadn¡¯t been involved in the assassination attempt, though his son appeared mixed up in it.

    Damien sighed and incinerated the message. He hated complicated things like this. He wished someone would just tell him who to blast and let him get on with it.

    Oh, well.

 2.22

    Ten weeks later found Damien and Lane on the outskirts of the first good-sized town they¡¯d seen since the capital. The roofs of two-story buildings rose above the wooden palisade that surrounded the town. This far south the worst of the cold had passed and the first buds were visible on the maples growing along the road. A single, four-story mansion towered above all the other buildings. Damien assumed it belonged to whichever noble oversaw the town.

    ¡°What¡¯s the name of this place again?¡±

    Lane glanced over at him. ¡°Allentown.¡±

    ¡°Right. And we¡¯re stopping here why?¡±

    She sighed. ¡°Because we have another week until the meeting and I want to spend a little time getting a feel for what the people think about the barons¡¯ plan to leave the kingdom. We¡¯re only forty miles from the border. These people sit right on the edge of a potential war zone if the barons abandon their responsibilities and let the bandits cross en masse.¡±

    ¡°Does that matter in the grand scheme of things?¡± Damien wanted to tell her even if she failed the barons wouldn¡¯t be allowed to leave the kingdom alive.

    ¡°Of course it matters!¡±

    Damien raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Okay, maybe it doesn¡¯t matter to the negotiations, but it matters to me. Looking after these peoples¡¯ wellbeing is as much my job as dealing directly with the nobles.¡±

    Damien smiled. Even if she didn¡¯t like sorcerers, she had a good heart. That made it even harder to keep his secret.

    They reached a set of double doors built into the palisade that served as a gate and reined in. A pair of guards with swords and spears stood on either side of the doors. ¡°State your business,¡± the left-hand guard said. He couldn¡¯t have sounded more bored.

    ¡°We¡¯re just passing through,¡± Lane said. ¡°We need an inn for the night. Could you recommend a nice place?¡±

    The right-hand guard chuckled.

    ¡°We¡¯ve only got two inns, miss.¡± The left-hand guard ignored his companion¡¯s laughter. ¡°And I¡¯d never send a lady to one of them. Best head over to the Golden Stag. It¡¯s clean and they serve the best food in town. Just take the second left, you can¡¯t miss it.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Lane smiled in a way that made Damien jealous for a moment.

    The guards pushed the doors open and they rode through. The streets were a little muddy, no surprise this time of year. All the buildings looked sturdy and well taken care of. They all had flat roofs that could also serve as archery platforms. If bandits ever attacked the town they¡¯d find arrows raining down on them from every direction.

    Damien counted the streets and turned his mount toward the second left.

    ¡°No. We don¡¯t want to go somewhere fancy,¡± Lane said.

    ¡°We don¡¯t?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°The people I want to talk to can¡¯t afford a place like the guard described. If the nice inn is to the left we want to go right.¡±

    Right, heaven forbid they stay at the nice inn. They might have soft beds and decent food. Better to find some rat hole liable to give them a disease.

    Damien followed her away from where he wanted to go. The farther they went down the street the worse the buildings looked. The first couple of rows seemed okay. Then the cedar shakes covering the walls became patchy before giving way to simple rough-sawn boards covering the walls.

    Shouts and music sung with more volume than skill led them to The Horny Badger Inn, a take on the name of an aggressive animal native to the badlands. The less said about what the owner had painted on his sign the better.

    The sign hung at a forty-five-degree angle from a single chain. Nothing about the building looked square. The entryway cocked a few inches left and the back wall had sunk a foot into the ground. Damien seriously considered shoring the place up with soul force before letting Lane enter.

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.The inn had a hitching post out front, but no sign of a stable. What should they do with the horses? If they left them tied up out front he had no doubt they¡¯d be walking the rest of the way to the gathering.

    Damien dismounted and tied off his horse. ¡°What now?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll talk to the owner.¡± Lane dismounted and tied her mount next to his. ¡°There must be somewhere nearby we can keep the horses.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Damien grabbed his rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. He started for the stairs, but she brushed past him. He sighed. ¡°After you.¡±

    He feared Lane¡¯s foot might go right through the half-rotted steps, but she made it up to the landing and pushed the door open. Inside, the common room was full of people laughing, drinking, and eating. Smoke filled the air. Damien examined it with invisible strands of soul force and found only mild stimulants, nothing poisonous.

    The crowd looked rough: loggers and farmers mingled with thugs and whores. Everyone carried a weapon of some sort, mostly wooden cudgels and knives. From the number of scars and bent noses it looked like they weren¡¯t afraid to use them.

    Along the far wall ran a bar behind which stood a middle-aged man with one eye and not many more teeth. ¡°Talk to the bartender and rent us two rooms. Find out what we should do with the horses. I¡¯m going to mingle,¡± Lane said.

    Damien shook his head. Lane had too many teeth and not enough scars or holes in her clothes to mingle with this lot. She looked like a swan swimming through a pond of raw sewage.

    The archmage said she knew what she was doing and Damien had to trust that. Leaving Lane to her mingling Damien ambled over to the bar. The bartender met him with a gap-toothed smile. ¡°You sure you folks are in the right place?¡±

    Damien set his bag down. ¡°No, but it looks like we¡¯re staying the night, assuming you have two empty rooms.¡±

    The bartender coughed and spat something thick and black on the floor behind the bar. ¡°We got six empty rooms. Hell, we ain¡¯t rented a room by the night in years. You best keep an eye on your lady friend. She¡¯s attracting the wrong kind of attention.¡±

    Damien glanced over his shoulder and found the men leering at Lane as she worked her way through the press. Maybe they¡¯d be content to look and he wouldn¡¯t have to kill any of them. He returned his attention to the bartender. ¡°Don¡¯t suppose there¡¯s a stable around here.¡±

    The bartender barked a phlegmy, congested laugh. ¡°Only thing we do with horses in this part of town is eat ¡¯em. You want a place to store ¡¯em you best head back to the fancy part of town.¡±

    Damien concentrated and conjured an invisible barrier around the horses. That would keep anyone from taking them to the butchers while he figured out how to convince Lane to stay somewhere else. Maybe someone would pinch her ass and she¡¯d realize this wasn¡¯t a good place for them.

    ¡°Still want those rooms?¡±

    Damien sighed and nodded toward Lane. ¡°She¡¯s the boss. I¡¯m just a bodyguard.¡±

    The bartender whistled through his teeth. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind guarding that body. Uh-oh. Looks like you¡¯ve got work to do. She¡¯s caught Bonzo¡¯s eye.¡±

    Damien grimaced. Sounded like the name of a dancing bear at the summer fair. ¡°Who or what is a Bonzo?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the biggest man in the place. Head enforcer for the Daggers. They run this town.¡±

    ¡°What about the nobleman that lives in the mansion?¡±

    ¡°Ha! The Lord Mayor? The Daggers pay him off with gold and young girls. His soldiers won¡¯t lift a finger to stop them.¡±

    Damien¡¯s anger rose. When he finished with the barons he¡¯d have to visit the Lord Mayor as well. That sort of behavior couldn¡¯t be tolerated in the kingdom.

    But first Bonzo.

    Damien spun around and scanned the room. It didn¡¯t take long to spot the brute leaning against the wall near the end of the bar, his gaze following Lane¡¯s every move. He stood nearly seven feet tall, broad-shouldered, with a raw-boned, weathered face. Made Sig look like a midget.

    Damien looked closer. Bonzo had weak internal soul force he used to augment his strength and toughness. His technique was sloppy. Probably self taught rather than Citadel trained. Bonzo wasn¡¯t strong enough to be a threat to a real warlord, much less a sorcerer, but his ability would give him a huge advantage over a normal person.

    Bonzo pushed away from the wall and sauntered across the common room toward Lane. Everyone rushed to move out of his way. Lane had her back to him as she chatted up a painted whore whose best days had come and gone before Damien was born. Maybe Bonzo would do the job of convincing her to stay somewhere else for him.

    ¡°You¡¯re pretty.¡± Bonzo patted her ass.

    Lane spun around and craned her neck to look up at him. ¡°Watch where you touch.¡±

    Bonzo leered at her and reached for her chest.

    Lane slapped his hand away and raised a fist. ¡°Try that once more and I¡¯ll deck you.¡±

    Bonzo laughed and stuck his chin out. ¡°Take your best shot.¡±

    Lane reared back. Quick as thought Damien wrapped her in a full-body shield and anchored her to the floor. Next he added a sphere of soul force at the end of her fist.

    She swung. The sphere hit Bonzo¡¯s chin and released the stored energy.

    He flew across the common room and slammed into the wall.

    Lane blinked and stared at her fist. ¡°Asshole.¡±

    Everyone held their breath, waiting for him to stand up.

    They¡¯d be waiting a while. He¡¯d put enough energy into the blast to kill a normal person. Even someone like Bonzo wouldn¡¯t shake that off any time soon.

    When it became clear the giant wouldn¡¯t be getting up again a cheer rose from the crowd. Damien reabsorbed all the energy he¡¯d wrapped Lane in and smiled.

    Damien turned back to the bartender who shook his head. ¡°What does she need you for?¡±

    ¡°She keeps asking me that very same question. Truth is I work for her mother. The old lady worries and pays well. Who am I to argue?¡±

    The bartender laughed. ¡°Words to live by, my friend.¡±

 2.23

    When Lane finally finished chatting Damien waved her over. Scowling, she stalked to the bar. What was she pissed about now?

    ¡°What?¡± Lane asked.

    ¡°They don¡¯t have a stable in this part of town. My new best friend¡±¡ªDamien nodded toward the bartender¡ª¡°assures me that any horse we leave outside will find its way to the meat market in short order.¡±

    ¡°Fine. Take the horses back up the street and find a stable. I¡¯ll wait here.¡±

    ¡°If you think I¡¯m leaving you alone in this place you¡¯re nuts. And if your mother found out she¡¯d kill me. We go together and walk back together, if you insist on returning.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s for the best, miss.¡± The bartender flinched when Lane turned her angry gaze on him. ¡°Bonzo¡¯s got a lot of friends. You don¡¯t want to be here when they find out you flattened him.¡±

    Lane turned back to Damien. ¡°What¡¯s a Bonzo?¡±

    ¡°The gentleman lying by the wall over yonder.¡±

    She pursed her lips. ¡°I think I have a good feel for what the people in this part of town think. Maybe it would be useful to talk to the other side.¡±

    Thank Bonzo and all the heavens.

    Lane headed for the door and Damien slipped the bartender a silver crown before he followed. He doubted it would stop the man from telling the Daggers which way they went, but he had provided some useful information.

    Damien dissolved his invisible barrier before Lane reached it. He detected no sign that anyone had tried to bother their horses. Lane swung up into her saddle and Damien followed her example.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    They¡¯d gone as far back as the cedar-sided buildings before Lane said, ¡°You used your powers back there. No way I knocked that goon out myself.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I sure did. Would you have preferred to break your hand on his jaw?¡±

    ¡°I told you not to use your powers. I know how to throw a punch.¡±

    Damien shook his head at the woman¡¯s stubbornness. ¡°I¡¯m sure you do, but have you ever punched a warlord? Bones as hard as steel tend to be hard on the knuckles.¡±

    Lane laughed. ¡°If he was a warlord then I¡¯m a princess.¡±

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t Citadel trained, but Bonzo did have a weak internal soul force. He¡¯s what¡¯s called an instinctive user. You¡¯ll run into one now and then. The point is, trained or not, you still would have broken your hand on his jaw. After that I would have had to do something drastic to stop him from raping you on one of the tables while the whole place watched.¡±

    That shut her up.

    They reached the crossroads and turned in the direction the guards had suggested. The effect on the buildings was exactly the opposite of their ride toward the first inn.

    Houses became nicer. Fresh coats of paint covered everything. Single-story buildings gave way to two stories. Windows got wider and more numerous.

    The Golden Stag stood two stories high and sprawled over half a block. An iron fence surrounded manicured grounds. Warm light from the windows lit the yard. Three steps led up to dark wood doors, inset with colored glass.

    Damien guided his mount through the open gate. Beside him Lane groaned.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°I hate places like this.¡±

    ¡°Oh sure. Clean, warm, good food, no thugs to attack you. Seems like a horrible place. Bet you a royal the bartender has all his teeth.¡±

    Lane offered a weary smile. ¡°It¡¯s not the setting, it¡¯s the memories. Mom used to bring me to places like this. Everyone patted me on the head, and smiled these sad smiles, every one of them thinking how pathetic it was for someone like Mom to have such a disappointment for a daughter.¡±

    A pair of boys in blue tunics embroidered with golden stags rushed out from behind the inn. They held their reins while Damien and Lane dismounted. As soon as they had their gear the boys led the horses and mule off toward the back. Now that¡¯s what Damien called service.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a little girl anymore,¡± Damien said. ¡°Try to relax and enjoy the luxury. After this little break it¡¯s back to business.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡± Lane followed him up the steps. ¡°It¡¯s only one night after all.¡±

 2.24

    Damien sighed and followed Lane down the steps out of The Golden Stag. She¡¯d said only one night and meant it. Too bad. Damien hadn¡¯t slept as well as he did last night in weeks. Deep feather beds combined with the best meal he¡¯d eaten since leaving the capital added up to nine hours¡¯ unbroken sleep. For the first time in his life Damien cursed the training that had him awake before the sun rose.

    Outside dawn was just coloring the horizon. Low, dark clouds and brisk temperatures threatened a late-season flurry before the end of the day. Two new boys in identical livery waited with their horses saddled and ready. From the shine, it looked like they¡¯d combed them out and cleaned the mud from their tails and the feathering around their hooves. The horses looked better than when Damien claimed them from the last supply depot. They¡¯d even slicked up the mule.

    He tossed the boys a crown apiece. They snatched the silver coins out of the air with practiced ease. Damien patted his mare on the neck and swung up into the saddle. He hung his rucksack from the pommel and followed Lane out the open gate.

    After a moment of silence Damien said, ¡°Best six royals I ever spent. Tell me you didn¡¯t love those beds and I¡¯ve never eaten roast that tender.¡±

    Lane nodded. ¡°Maybe I was too quick to dismiss an occasional bit of luxury. The beds were a delight.¡±

    ¡°Ha! Thank you very much. I guarantee we both would have ended up with food poisoning if we ate at the other place.¡±

    They rode through the slowly awakening town, eager to finish their journey. According to Lane¡¯s map, they¡¯d reach Baron Kannon¡¯s castle late tomorrow, barring any unforeseen adventures. Damien hoped she could convince the barons to do their duty. Though he had no qualms about killing, he preferred to avoid it when possible.

    They came to a stop a hundred yards from the south gate. Nine rough men in leathers stood blocking their way. All of them carried a weapon of some sort, with axes, swords with chipped blades, and heavy cudgels making up the bulk.

    In the center, a little ahead of the rest, Bonzo stood with his arms crossed across his massive chest. He looked none the worse for last night¡¯s pounding. He¡¯d found an ax as long as he was tall with a massive, double-bitted head that probably weighed thirty pounds. A pair of town guards stood by the closed gates leaning on their spears. It didn¡¯t look like they planned to offer any assistance.

    Damien turned to Lane. ¡°Do you want me to handle this or do you want to try and negotiate?¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.Lane frowned. ¡°Part of being a good negotiator is knowing when negotiation is a waste of time. Could you please keep it subtle? No golden dragons or smoking craters.¡±

    ¡°Come on, how did you know I was going to use a golden dragon?¡±

    A hint of a smile cracked her stony face. ¡°This is serious.¡±

    Damien dug his thin leather gloves out of his rucksack and pulled them on. ¡°No it isn¡¯t. I¡¯ve been in a few serious situations. This is a nuisance at worst.¡±

    He dismounted and handed her his reins. ¡°Keep your distance just the same.¡±

    Damien strode toward the assembled thugs. His eyes narrowed as he studied their soul force. Only Bonzo had anything more than normal.

    He could kill them all in an instant, probably should, since he suspected they were all members of the Daggers. Nevertheless, he wanted to give them a chance to surrender. He just didn¡¯t know where to take them since the Lord Mayor and his men were in the gang¡¯s pocket.

    He stopped halfway between the gate and Lane. Damien crooked his finger, beckoning Bonzo forward. Even from a distance the enforcer¡¯s clenched jaw was visible. If he didn¡¯t move out of the way he was about to get a lot less happy and a lot more dead.

    Bonzo slung his ax over his shoulder and marched toward Damien. When he stopped Damien stared him straight in the throat. Man, he was big. Maybe he had some ogre in his bloodline.

    ¡°We ain¡¯t interested in you,¡± Bonzo said. He had a deep, gravelly voice and breath that suggested he brushed his teeth with the contents of his chamber pot. ¡°But the girl¡¯s got to pay for insulting me. You can have her back when me and the boys are through.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a generous offer, but unfortunately I¡¯m her bodyguard and I¡¯m afraid handing her over to you wouldn¡¯t do her body any good. How about you guys get out of here? I don¡¯t want any trouble.¡±

    Bonzo laughed. Behind him the rest of the thugs tensed and raised their weapons. That was all the chance Damien intended to give them. He conjured a pair of swords and drove them through both Bonzo¡¯s lungs.

    Blood gushed out of Bonzo¡¯s mouth and he fell to his knees, the giant ax clattering to the ground. Damien stepped back, ripped his blades free, and cross slashed.

    Bonzo¡¯s head plopped to the ground.

    Before the other thugs recovered from the surprise of their leader¡¯s death, Damien hurled his blades at them. He accelerated their rotation until they looked like steel disks and guided them into the assembled thugs.

    Human flesh didn¡¯t stand up well to soul force blades sharper than a razor and harder than steel. In three seconds all eight thugs lay in perhaps twenty pieces. One of them moaned in pain. He¡¯d lost both legs above the knee and would bleed out in a hurry.

    Damien held out his hands and the blades flew back to him. He reabsorbed the energy, tugged his gloves off, and walked back to rejoin Lane.

    She stared at him, mutely handing him his reins when he reached for them. Perhaps she¡¯d never seen real combat and its aftermath. It wasn¡¯t pretty.

    Damien swung up onto his mare. ¡°You know how they say don¡¯t look down when you¡¯re somewhere high? You might want to follow that advice until we reach the gate. It doesn¡¯t look any prettier up close."

    She clenched her teeth and stared over the top of the wall. They rode toward the gate which the two guards hastened to open. Damien stayed close to Lane in case her horse shied away when they went through the bodies. A minute later they were out the gate and on the road again.

 2.25

    They traveled down the dirt track in silence. A mix of spruce and oak trees towered over both sides of the narrow road. Damien sighed beside her. Lane couldn¡¯t believe she¡¯d just watched him slaughter nine men and as far as she could tell it hadn¡¯t fazed him in the least. She couldn¡¯t stop trembling. Couldn¡¯t force the image of those men being sliced apart out of her head.

    Half an hour later, when Allentown was well behind them, Lane said, ¡°I always knew the sorts of things sorcerers could do, but I¡¯d never seen it before. You killed those men like I might step on a bug.¡±

    ¡°Same principle I guess. You step on the bugs so they don¡¯t bite anyone else. Dealing with that bunch didn¡¯t take any particular power. My sister could have done the same thing and she¡¯s a warlord.¡±

    Lane looked at him, eyes bulging, the blood drained out of her face. ¡°How can you talk about it so casually? You just killed nine people. Aren¡¯t you even a little upset?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s unfortunate they made me do it, but no, I¡¯m not upset. Do you know anything about training at The Citadel?¡±

    She blinked, not certain she understood. He was a sorcerer, not a warlord. ¡°I thought sorcerers trained at Sorcery.¡±

    ¡°We do, but before I went to Sorcery I trained for almost three years at The Citadel. People tend to think fighting techniques and how to use internal soul force are the most important things you learn, but they¡¯re wrong.¡±

    Lane licked her lips, not certain she wanted to know. She took a breath and asked, ¡°What is the most important thing?¡±

    ¡°To kill without hesitation or regret. Before we move on to the second year¡¯s training, all first year cadets are thrown into a pit with a chained goblin. The goblin is armed with a club and the cadet is given a short sword. The masters don¡¯t let you out until the goblin is dead.¡±

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.She put a trembling hand to her mouth. ¡°That¡¯s horrible.¡±

    Damien shrugged. ¡°Second year they throw you in with an unchained goblin and this time it has a sword and you have a dagger. You have to get up close to kill it. Get the blood on your hands. It spatters on your face.¡±

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s mercy. They do this to children?¡±

    ¡°Eleven- and twelve-year-olds. Third years move on to killing men, prisoners in this case. You have to cut the throat of a condemned man. I had a head start. Dad threw me in with a chained goblin when I was ten, before my official training started.¡± Damien looked up at the sky, lost in thought, totally unaware of her growing horror. ¡°On my tenth name day he gave me this beautiful sword and dagger set. I was so happy. It looked just like the sword he wore. That night after Jen went to sleep he woke me up and took me down to the pit. I didn¡¯t realize yet what he intended.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me,¡± she said. A part of her wanted him to go on. She felt an almost overwhelming need to understand this young man her mother had sent to protect her, this killer in a boy¡¯s body.

    Damien shook his head and continued on like she hadn¡¯t spoken. ¡°Dad said if I wanted to keep the sword I had to earn it. He threw me in with my precious new sword. He told me to kill the goblin and become a warrior. The goblin went crazy, thrashing and beating on its chain with a useless, blunt short sword. It was making the most shrill screeches.¡±

    ¡°What did you do?¡± Lane asked in a breathless voice, knowing the answer before she spoke.

    ¡°I killed it. I think as much to shut it up as anything. Dad lowered a rope, I climbed out, and he hugged me and said how proud he was. It was the last time he hugged me. I think it may have been the last time he was proud of me.¡± Damien locked his gaze on Lane and she went cold. ¡°That¡¯s what it means to be a warlord. I may use external soul force, but I was trained to be a warlord. To kill my enemies without hesitation or remorse. I don¡¯t go out of my way to find people to kill, but if it becomes necessary¡­¡±

    Lane shook her head and offered a weak smile. The horror of his childhood stunned her. ¡°And I thought I had a difficult time growing up. You make me feel bad about complaining that some of Mom¡¯s friends gave me condescending pats on the head. I¡¯ve never had to kill anyone.¡±

    Damien grinned, seeming to shake off his dark mood. ¡°That¡¯s why your mother sent me. If there¡¯s ugly business to be done, let me handle it. My soul is so bloodstained a few more drops won¡¯t matter.¡±

    So young and so bitter. She wanted to hold him, give him the hugs his father withheld. Lane suspected it was too late for any number of hugs to do him much good. You don¡¯t become a killer at ten without getting a permanent scar on your soul.

    How many scars did Damien carry?

 2.26

    Baron Kannon¡¯s keep loomed dark and menacing where it sat on a cliff overlooking the border five miles away. Dark clouds gathered behind it, setting a gloomy scene. Surrounded on three sides by sheer vertical drops, the only way to approach the fortress was up a steep, winding path that ended at a high, crenelated wall.

    The keep itself towered three stories high. A dozen arrow slits covered the front and sides. A dark-green banner with a golden bow embroidered on it snapped in the wind from a pole on the right-hand tower. The baron¡¯s ancestors had chosen well when they built their home. Now the question was, would the current Baron Kannon make a wise decision and stick to his duty. Damien hoped so. If they could accomplish this mission without killing that was fine with him.

    A soft breeze blew through the spruce, filling the air with the scent of evergreen. Damien breathed deep, enjoying the moment.

    ¡°It¡¯s so peaceful here,¡± Lane said. She¡¯d been a lot nicer to him since the battle with the Daggers. Was it pity or fear? He didn¡¯t know or especially care. Whatever melted her icy personality, it was a welcome change. ¡°You¡¯d hardly guess a day¡¯s ride south bands of murderers constantly gathered and plotted how best to kill and plunder our land.¡±

    ¡°At least they¡¯re flesh-and-blood humans and not monsters or demons. Our soldiers can handle them. The problem is sometimes they try to cross in small groups that are hard to detect. That¡¯s why the barons need to maintain their patrols.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Lane said. ¡°I¡¯ll convince them. I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯ll want to make an enemy of the kingdom.¡±

    Lane didn¡¯t know how right she was. ¡°Any thoughts on your strategy?¡±

    ¡°Not yet. I need to hear all their complaints before I can figure out how best to address them.¡±

    ¡°I assume your mother warned you the barons might be dangerous.¡±

    Lane nodded. ¡°I think she¡¯s overly concerned.¡±

    ¡°Either that, or we¡¯re walking into a trap.¡±

    ¡°Does that worry you?¡±

    Damien shrugged. ¡°Not especially.¡± He¡¯d welcome a trap. It would eliminate all the stupid politics. If they attacked he¡¯d counterattack and they¡¯d all die. Problem solved.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    They started up the steep trail, letting their horses pick their own path. If any conventional army tried to attack this place they¡¯d be cut to pieces by the baron¡¯s archers before they ever closed on the keep. They reached the top without incident.

    Two gatehouses bracketed a double set of portcullises. A guard stood behind the first portcullis. He wore mail and carried a sword at his waist. A dark beard streaked with silver marked him as a veteran. They reined in about four feet from the gate.

    Lane pulled out her badge. ¡°I¡¯m from the diplomatic corps. The barons are expecting me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. You¡¯re the last to arrive. Open the gate!¡± The inner and outer portcullises clanked up until they could ride underneath. ¡°Go on in. Master Miles, the baron¡¯s majordomo, is expecting you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Lane went through first and Damien followed a moment later.

    Damien nodded as his horse walked past, one soldier to another. The gate guard seemed competent. Hopefully the rest of the guards were cut from the same mold.

    Halfway across the yard a pair of boys came running. Damien swung down, collected his gear, and handed his reins to a blond youngster about ten. Why was it always stable boys? You¡¯d think there¡¯d be a stable girl somewhere.

    The boys led the horses and mule away as the double doors to the keep swung open. A man in his fifties with an oiled goatee and a long, forest-green robe strode out, his staff of office tapping on the stone. He came down three steps, paused, and bowed to Lane.

    ¡°Officer Thorn, welcome to Kannon Keep. I received word from your august mother, informing me of your assignment. I do so hope you can straighten out this business with the taxes and soldiers. My lord has been so terribly upset he hasn¡¯t slept the night through in months.¡±

    Lane plastered on a fake smile. ¡°I¡¯ll certainly do my best. After all everyone wants this matter cleared up as quickly as possible.¡±

    Miles beamed. ¡°My thoughts exactly. Follow me, please. Your bags will be brought up presently. We¡¯ve arranged for you and your bodyguard to have adjoining rooms. I trust that¡¯s convenient?¡±

    The last was addressed to Damien and he nodded. ¡°Perfect, sir. It seems you¡¯ve thought of everything.¡±

    Miles laughed. ¡°That¡¯s my job, young man.¡±

    The majordomo led them inside. The doors opened directly into a great hall. A huge fireplace blazed with a tree¡¯s worth of wood. A golden chandelier, its fifty candles unlit, hung from the ceiling. A second-floor balcony overlooked the hall. Miles guided them to a set of steps leading upstairs. A couple of twists and turns later they came to a pair of doors fifteen feet apart.

    ¡°Your rooms,¡± Miles said. ¡°Should you need anything just use the pull rope and a servant will be along in short order. I¡¯ll leave you to prepare for the feast.¡±

    ¡°Feast?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Of course. The annual gathering always opens with a great feast. It is my lord¡¯s honor to set the finest table. Never fear, there¡¯s always plenty of leftovers for the guards and servants.¡±

    Miles trotted off, his staff tapping away, no doubt to alert his master that they¡¯d arrived.

    ¡°I need to clean up and change,¡± Lane said. ¡°Did you bring something appropriate?¡±

    ¡°I think I have a clean tunic. I¡¯m a guard, remember? I don¡¯t need to dress up to enjoy the barons¡¯ leftovers.¡±

 2.27

    Damien stripped off his travel-stained clothes and tossed them on the bench at the foot of his oversized bed. The room they¡¯d provided was every bit as luxurious as The Golden Stag. White silk sheets covered the bed and a glow-stone lamp of blown glass rested beside it on the far nightstand. A jug of water and a basin sat on the nightstand beside him.

    If this was how the barons lived he couldn¡¯t see they had any room to complain about taxes. He¡¯d pictured hard men living in rough forts surrounded by enemies. This place was every bit as nice as Uncle Andy¡¯s castle back at the capital.

    Damien filled the basin and cleaned up. The cool, clear water felt wonderful on his dust-caked skin. A soft towel hung from the drawer pull and he used it to dry off before tossing it in the pile with his dirty clothes.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Now the question was, had his change of clothes stayed clean in his rucksack? He dumped it out on the bed and sighed his relief at finding the black cloth free of dirt. Behind him the door creaked. He spun to find Lane standing in the doorway that connected their rooms, her face bright red. She was staring at him, mouth partway open.

    He slung the tunic over his head. ¡°Didn¡¯t anyone teach you to knock? Some diplomat.¡±

    ¡°Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you had something clean to wear. I see you do.¡± She closed the door.

    Damien shook his head, pulled on his pants, and buckled his sword on his back. Lane¡¯s reaction was typical of people seeing his scars for the first time. He should be used to it by now, but it gnawed at him all the same. At least they didn¡¯t bother Lizzy. Her being a demon, he suspected she¡¯d seen a lot worse over the centuries.

    Now all he had to do was wait for Lane to finish. He didn¡¯t know how long that would take, but he suspected from the stories he¡¯d heard from some of the masters about their wives that he should get comfortable.

 2.28

    Lane shut the door, her face burning. Why hadn¡¯t she knocked? If Damien had opened the door on her while she was getting ready she would still be screaming at him.

    She sat on the edge of the bed and tried to slow her racing heart. When she closed her eyes she could still see the scars on his back. If that was the result of his warlord training someone needed to do something about it. It wasn¡¯t human to do that to a boy.

    He wasn¡¯t a boy anymore though. She tried not to smile when she thought of the hard muscle under his scars. Her face burned hotter.

    Stop thinking about him!

    Damien was a sorcerer and she hated sorcerers. He was her bodyguard, a killer assigned to keep her safe. Nothing more. She¡¯d treated him badly and he probably disliked her anyway. He¡¯d certainly been annoyed when she walked in on him.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Following his example she stripped and poured a basin of water. The water cooled her down and she sighed. What was wrong with her, anyway? They¡¯d traveled together for two and a half months and she¡¯d felt nothing but annoyance at having him tag along. Though he had come in handy at that grubby inn and later with the thugs, Lane could admit that.

    And that story about his father! Lane shuddered to think anyone could treat their child so callously. If nothing else her mother had always loved her and showed her nothing but kindness. Maybe she felt some disappointment that Lane wouldn¡¯t follow in her footsteps, but that never got in the way.

    Lane had always been bitter about what she considered a miserable childhood. Now that she¡¯d met someone that had an actual, horrific upbringing, Lane felt like a spoiled brat. She glanced at the door, half afraid she¡¯d find him standing there watching her bathe and half hoping he would be.

    Lane sighed and dried off. Another day or two more and this business would be settled and they¡¯d part ways. Of course, Damien worked for her mother so she¡¯d probably see more of him.

    She dug a specially wrapped parcel out of her pack and found the seal intact. Good, no dust had slipped inside. Lane unwrapped the blue-and-silver gown and smiled.

    What would he think of her in this?

 2.29

    Damien paced, waiting for Lane to finish getting ready. The masters hadn¡¯t lied, women really did take a long time. For a moment he was tempted to sneak a peek, it would only be fair, after all she¡¯d seen him in just his small clothes.

    He abandoned the idea at once. She¡¯d kill him, sorcerer or not.

    Lane knocked on the connecting door. Finally. ¡°Come in.¡±

    The door swung open and his breath caught in his throat. Lane wore a blue-and-silver gown of fine silk that shimmered in the light of the lamp. The skirt fell to just above her knees, showing the curve of her calf. The neckline plunged just low enough to show off the tops of her smooth, freckle-dusted breasts.

    ¡°Wow.¡±

    ¡°You like it?¡±

    ¡°Very much. You look stunning. Where did you hide that outfit?¡±

    She beamed. ¡°Mom sealed it in a package with soul force to keep dust out and prevent wrinkles.¡±

    Damien shook his head, stunned for the second time in as many minutes. How much skill would it take to weave a barrier that delicate and give it enough power to last ten weeks? He couldn¡¯t even fathom how to begin such a casting.

    Lane held out her hand. ¡°Shall we head down?¡±

    Damien took her hand and for reasons he didn¡¯t fully understand, brushed a soft kiss across it. He let go and took up a position two steps behind her. ¡°I¡¯m your bodyguard not your companion, remember? Much as I¡¯d enjoy it being otherwise, we both have to play our parts.¡±

    She looked sad for a moment, but shook it off. ¡°Right, let¡¯s go.¡±

    They left their fine suite behind. Damien placed an invisible strand of soul force across both thresholds. If anyone entered the rooms while they were gone he¡¯d know. Lane glided along through the cool stone halls. She had to be chilly in that dress.

    Ten men in fancy outfits, many of them with medals pinned to their chests, stood around chatting in the great hall. Servants in black-and-white uniforms mixed with the barons. They carried trays loaded with little sandwiches or full glasses of wine. Along the walls ten armed men stood, seeming at ease, though their eyes never stopped moving, constantly scanning for danger.

    To a man they had cold, dead eyes. Killers¡¯ eyes.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Damien took a moment to study the gathered men and found several guards and two barons all had modest internal soul force. No surprise to find a few warlords in such a powerful gathering. Lucky for him all the guards were in their mid to late twenties and the barons older yet. No one would recognize him from The Citadel.

    Conversation fell silent when Lane entered. Damien knew just how they felt. She smiled her fake smile, grabbed a drink from a passing servant, and headed toward the closest group of barons. Damien checked her drink with an invisible thread of soul force and found it free of poison. He sent out more threads, checking the rest of the drinks as well as the food.

    He didn¡¯t expect to find anything. It would be too risky to poison the food in this setting. A baron might grab something he shouldn¡¯t. Satisfied that Lane wasn¡¯t in any danger at the moment, Damien went to stand in an empty space along the wall.

    The older guards eyed him, sizing up the youngest member of their cohort. They didn¡¯t look impressed. That was fine with Damien. He didn¡¯t care what they thought of him and if they believed he was weak they might underestimate him. He crossed his arms and settled in for what he hoped would be a boring evening.

    His gaze wandered from Lane to the barons, to the guards, but always returned to Lane. In that outfit she drew the eye of every man in the room. Damien frowned. At least some of the barons had to be married. Where were the wives?

    ¡°Hey.¡± A big, broad-chested warlord sidled up beside Damien. He wore leather armor despite his soul force, whether to disguise the fact that he was a warlord or just because he liked the look Damien couldn¡¯t guess. A claymore hilt jutted up beside his ear and he looked like he knew how to use it. A thick black beard covered his face and his left eye was missing. He had an imposing look which no doubt served him well in his chosen career.

    ¡°Evening. Which one are you with?¡±

    ¡°Baron Trasker.¡±

    That focused Damien¡¯s attention. If their information was correct and Trasker had hired the assassin his bodyguard could be a source of information, or a threat. ¡°Which one is he?¡±

    ¡°The bald one with all the medals. You¡¯re guarding the woman. She¡¯s the king¡¯s representative, right?¡±

    Damien nodded, scanning the room for Trasker. There, chatting with Lane. Man, he did have a chest full of gold. How many wars had he fought in? He was a modestly strong warlord as well.

    They seemed to be having a pleasant-enough chat. The baron didn¡¯t look like the sort of person that would hire an assassin, not that you could really tell.

    ¡°Why¡¯d they send someone so young to guard such an important diplomat?¡± the guard asked.

    ¡°Got me. I don¡¯t pick and choose my missions. The higher-ups tell me where to go and I go. This job¡¯s been a breeze. ten weeks of riding through the wilderness, camping under the stars with a beautiful woman, and no one trying to kill me. If it was summer instead of winter it would have been perfect. They can send me on as many missions like this as they want.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t sound too attached to your charge.¡±

    Damien shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m attached to getting paid. Anything happens to her and I¡¯m liable to be out of a job.¡±

    The bearded guard grinned. ¡°You got the right attitude, kid. Name¡¯s Sloan.¡±

    ¡°Damien.¡± They shook hands.

    Miles emerged from a door at the rear of the hall. ¡°My lords and lady, dinner is served.¡±

 2.30

    Morana adjusted her tight, black dress and fluffed her curly copper hair as she walked down the dim tunnel. After she left that idiot Mikhail to return south, she¡¯d flown to her master¡¯s base in the northern mountains, as bleak and desolate a place as she¡¯d ever visited.

    It suited Connor Blackman perfectly.

    She approached the library Connor had carved out of the mountain and paused outside the entrance to pull the neck of her dress a little lower. Morana didn¡¯t know why she bothered. Connor never noticed her no matter how short her skirt or how low her top. Was it her or did he have no interest in women in general?

    Morana squared her shoulders and stepped across the threshold. As always the darkness of the place struck her like a cold fist, sending a thrill through her whole body. How she wished to join Connor in this wonderful, consuming darkness. Soon, he¡¯d promised her. For now he needed her soul force uncorrupted so she could move about as his agent in the wider world.

    Connor had carved the library out of solid stone; the tables and bookcases were simply stone he¡¯d left behind and shaped to his needs. Ancient tomes and scrolls covered the gray shelves alongside stranger artifacts like a horned demon skull that still retained eyes which followed her every move. If it had lips she suspected it would have licked them. The entire collection radiated demonic corruption.

    She reached out to touch a black gem that pulsed with power, but caught herself before her fingers could brush the cold facets. Last time she touched something in his collection Connor had been very upset with her. She had the scars to prove it.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Morana strutted down through the rows toward the back of the room, swinging her hips in her best imitation of a cheap whore. She¡¯d tried this trick before and, of course, he¡¯d ignored her like always. Maybe this time she¡¯d have better luck.

    Connor sat in a stone chair turned inky black after years of absorbing his corruption. Long, black hair covered his face as he looked down at the blackened metal amulet in his hands. That artifact never left his possession. Morana had asked him about it once and he just smiled and said it was the key to eternity. Whatever that meant.

    She stopped a safe distance from him and after a moment he looked up, veins black in his pale face, lips blue as a corpse, and eyes as crimson as blood. She shivered, wishing she had the courage to discover for herself if those lips felt as cold as they looked. ¡°Master.¡±

    ¡°Morana.¡± The emotionless, precise voice showed her neither warmth nor affection. ¡°How fare things in the city?¡±

    She grimaced. He wasn¡¯t going to like this. ¡°The Unkindness is finished and the death of the Santen family has been discovered.¡±

    Blue lips peeled back from clenched teeth. ¡°The others?¡±

    ¡°Still in place and undiscovered.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s something, at least.¡±

    ¡°Mikhail, that idiot, destroyed the gate.¡±

    She¡¯d expected Connor to hit the roof at that, but he just waved a hand. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. It was just a proof of concept. Now that I know it works I can move on to the next phase.¡±

    ¡°Do you have another mission for me?¡± Please don¡¯t send me to join Mikhail.

    ¡°Return to Port Valcane. I have agents arriving in the near future and they may require your assistance. In the meantime, see about gathering up whatever remains of the gang. I¡¯m sure we can find some use for them.¡±

    ¡°After Mikhail destroyed their base they may not want to work with us anymore.¡±

    Connor¡¯s gaze bored into her. ¡°I trust you to persuade them.¡±

 2.31

    Damien followed Lane into the dining room. A long, cherry table filled the center of the room, the surface covered with elaborate settings for each guest, including five forks, three knives of various shapes, two spoons, and an odd hooked device that looked more appropriate for a torture chamber than a formal dining room. On each plate rested a vellum card with a guest¡¯s name written on it. Lane sat at the end of the left-hand row next to Baron Trasker. It may have been meant as an insult to stick her at the end of the table, but it pleased Damien as she at least wasn¡¯t surrounded by potential enemies.

    A crystal chandelier hung over the center of the table, its scores of candles casting a warm glow throughout the room. In each corner a large green potted plant spread wide leaves.

    Lane and most of the barons took their assigned seats. The other guards stood against the wall behind their charges and Damien mimicked them, standing behind Lane. At the head of the table, Baron Kannon remained standing. He whispered something to Miles. The majordomo nodded and hurried out through another door. Behind it Damien caught a glimpse of the kitchen. The smell of spices and roasting meat wafted through the momentarily opened door.

    Baron Kannon raised his hands and the mumbled conversations fell silent. Two young, female servants emerged from the kitchen, each bearing a bottle of red wine. Damien quickly scanned the wine as well as Lane¡¯s glass, plate, and utensils.

    No poison. So far so good.

    When everyone had a full glass Baron Kannon said, ¡°A toast, to another year of cooperation with my fellow barons, and continued good relations with the kingdom.¡±

    He addressed that last bit to Lane, who offered a polite nod. They all raised their glasses. ¡°Hear, hear!¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Everyone drank and Baron Kannon took his seat at the head of the table. More servants emerged from the kitchen. They carried platters covered with little disks of bread smeared with some sort of gray mush. Damien didn¡¯t know what it was, but he was glad he didn¡¯t have to eat any.

    He scanned the food and found no poison. The next two courses were salads, also poison free. By the time the soup came out Damien was starting to think they weren¡¯t going to try and kill Lane tonight. One of the pretty, young servants set a bowl of deep-red soup in front of Lane.

    Damien¡¯s nerves jangled when he encountered an especially nasty poison floating in the steaming liquid. Lane lifted the larger of her two spoons as Damien rushed to gather all the poison into a small ball.

    He managed it with half a second to spare before she dipped in for the first bite. He wrapped the poison in a soul force bubble, turned it invisible, and dumped it in the dirt around the farthest plant. It didn¡¯t instantly turn black, so the poison must not have been quite as bad as he feared.

    For her part Lane chatted away with Trasker and the baron across from her, as fat a man as Damien had ever seen. No one gave her any searching looks like they were expecting her to fall face first into her soup. The poison was probably a slow-acting one, something that would sicken her overnight. Part of Damien wanted badly to kill them all on the spot, but he had to be sure all the barons were involved and not just Trasker.

    The next three courses were clean, and smelled delicious. Dessert was some sort of whipped concoction topped with flames. Another poison was mixed with whatever accelerant produced the flames. Damien purified the food again and dumped the second poison in the same pot as the first. The edges of the plant¡¯s leaves turned brown.

    The second poison must have enhanced the effects of the first. That was risky. If Lane hadn¡¯t cared for either the soup or dessert their plan might have failed even without Damien¡¯s interference.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about you,¡± Sloan said. ¡°But I¡¯m starving.¡±

    Spending the evening removing toxins from Lane¡¯s food had soured Damien¡¯s appetite. ¡°I think I might be coming down with something. My stomach is a mess.¡±

    Sloan nodded. ¡°I hear you. Some of this rich food is poison.¡±

 2.32

    Lane took her seat at the end of the row. The barons had probably stuck her there as an insult, but Lane refused to let it bother her. She had a job to do and petty tricks wouldn¡¯t stop her. She felt completely at ease knowing Damien stood behind her. Though she wouldn¡¯t deny having the young sorcerer along had annoyed her at first, he¡¯d proven himself a skilled protector and pleasant companion. He might be the first sorcerer whose company she¡¯d allowed herself to enjoy, outside her mother.

    Across from her Baron Marris couldn¡¯t take his eyes off her chest. She smiled at him. ¡°Baron Marris, how¡¯s your lovely wife?¡±

    He grimaced and his face went white. ¡°Fine.¡± His voice sounded more strained than she¡¯d expected.

    Beside her Barron Trasker chuckled. ¡°Well struck, my dear. I¡¯m afraid we¡¯re all missing our wives. Given the tense situation with the kingdom we thought it best to leave them at home. It¡¯s been a lonely few weeks.¡±

    He didn¡¯t sound like a traitor. Did the barons really fear the king would target their families? Even if they voted to leave the kingdom, Lane didn¡¯t believe King Andrew would do anything to innocent women and children. She¡¯d met the king several times and found him to be kind and decent.

    ¡°Rest assured, Baron Trasker, that the king would never do anything to bring harm to an innocent.¡±

    He patted her hand in a fatherly sort of way. ¡°It¡¯s sweet that you believe something so naive, but in war there are no innocents and no one is off limits. The king will do what he must to keep his nobles in line.¡± Trasker¡¯s voice turned hard. ¡°And we will do what we must to protect our families.¡±

    Lane reconsidered her initial assumption. Maybe Trasker had betrayed the kingdom. If he truly believed his family was in danger he might not consider it treason, but rather a desperate attempt at self-preservation. If that were true, what else might these desperate men be driven to? Hopefully nothing too drastic. Nevertheless she found herself doubly glad to have Damien watching her back.

    Baron Kannon made a toast and the first course arrived. Lane smiled, she loved pat¨¦. She wasn¡¯t alone and soon everyone had polished off their appetizer.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d care to give us a preview of the king¡¯s demands,¡± Trasker said.

    ¡°You already know what he expects: the border secure and your taxes paid on time. I¡¯m here to listen to your concerns and work out the details of a final agreement. I¡¯m sure tomorrow¡¯s meeting will be productive and this ugly matter will be put behind us.¡±

    Trasker¡¯s smile seemed forced. ¡°Of course, tomorrow.¡±

    The rest of the meal passed with little more than casual chitchat. None of the nobles pressed her for information. In fact no one seemed especially interested in the meeting tomorrow. The only interesting thing beyond the delicious meal was twice she would have sworn her food moved on its own. Lane must have drunk more wine than she thought.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    When the servants had cleared the remains of dessert Lane felt full to bursting. Kannon rose again and said, ¡°Gentlemen and lady, I hope you enjoyed tonight¡¯s meal. Sleep well, for tomorrow we have much to do. If any of the bodyguards are hungry feel free to help yourselves to any leftovers in the kitchen.¡±

    The gathering broke up, and most of the barons headed toward their rooms. Several bodyguards jogged into the kitchen. Lane expected to see Damien among them, but he simply stood, hands behind his back, waiting for her.

    She went over and put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Aren¡¯t you hungry?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have much of an appetite this evening. Are you ready to head back?¡±

    She¡¯d planned to offer to wait while he went for something from the kitchen, but if he wasn¡¯t hungry there wasn¡¯t much point. ¡°Sure. It doesn¡¯t look like they plan to do anything important tonight.¡±

    She headed for the door and Damien followed at the appropriate distance, his gaze darting around the room, trying to look everywhere at once. He looked more nervous than when they¡¯d arrived. Had something happened she wasn¡¯t aware of?

    Lane paused and looked back. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Not a thing. Please keep going.¡±

    Lane knew a lie when she heard it, but clearly Damien didn¡¯t want the barons to hear what he had to say. Curious and a little anxious, Lane set as brisk a pace as she could and not look like she was fleeing back to her room. They arrived at their rooms and she reached for the door.

    Damien grabbed her wrist and looked up and down the empty hall. He leaned in close and for a second she thought he meant to kiss her.

    ¡°Someone¡¯s been in our rooms,¡± he whispered in her ear. ¡°They¡¯re gone now, but they may have left a surprise. Let me go first.¡±

    Lane tried to swallow, but found her throat dry. Her over-full stomach churned. She nodded and he released her wrist.

    The door to her side of the suite opened slowly. Damien still stood in front of her, shielding her from anything that might wait inside. Lane found herself glad to have a sorcerer for a bodyguard. She expected him to move, but Damien never even twitched. His body remained taut and his eyes alert as he examined the room with senses other than sight.

    After five tense minutes he said, ¡°It¡¯s safe.¡±

    Damien went through the door to her side of the room and waved her in. The moment she crossed the threshold he shut the door and threw the bolt. He concentrated for a moment then sighed. ¡°I warded the room against eavesdropping so we can speak freely.¡±

    ¡°How did you know someone had been in our room?¡± Lane sat on the edge of the bed.

    ¡°I put an invisible thread of soul force across the doorway. Someone snapped it halfway through dinner. It might have been a servant coming to see if the room needed cleaning, but I didn¡¯t want to take chances.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°You¡¯re taking your role as bodyguard pretty seriously.¡±

    ¡°It seemed prudent, especially considering someone tried to poison you at dinner.¡±

    Lane choked and burst into a coughing fit. She had to have misheard. Damien sat beside her and patted her back. When she could breathe again she said, ¡°Poison?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°In the soup and dessert. Don¡¯t worry, I removed it and disposed of it safely.¡±

    She stared at him. ¡°I thought my soup stirred on its own. That was you?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I didn¡¯t recognize the poison, but I wanted to be sure I removed it before you had a taste. Did any of the barons seem suspicious to you?¡±

    ¡°I only spoke to Trasker and Marris and they seemed tense, but no more than you might expect considering the circumstances. Perhaps the barons didn¡¯t know about the poison.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. If they¡¯re surprised when you walk into that meeting tomorrow you¡¯ll know for sure. Just make sure you don¡¯t eat or drink anything they offer.¡±

    No kidding.

 2.33

    Damien left Lane in her room to try and sleep. Hearing you¡¯d been targeted for murder could give a person insomnia. Still, he hoped she could get a little rest. The moment the connecting door closed behind him he sent streams of soul force around every inch of the suite. He sealed the doors and every crack so tight an ant couldn¡¯t find a way through.

    In truth he didn¡¯t expect anything to happen tonight. Whoever tried to kill Lane had no way of knowing she didn¡¯t eat the poison. When she walked into the meeting in the morning, however, all hell might break loose.

    He hoped it did.

    The instant anyone made an overt move against Lane the negotiations would be over and he¡¯d have a free hand to handle things however he wished. He¡¯d gotten to like Lane and the fact that they¡¯d tried to kill her made him want to deal harshly with the barons.

    He sighed and lay down. Everything was so complicated.

    Damien woke early and found his barrier intact and no sign that anyone had attempted to breach it. Good. For once things seemed to be going how he expected.

    The meeting was scheduled to begin around midmorning, leaving him four or so hours to kill. His stomach rumbled. He hadn¡¯t eaten since lunch the day before. Maybe he could sneak down to the kitchen and find some untainted food for breakfast. With the suite sealed Lane was in no danger.

    Damien had no interest in conversation so he wrapped himself in invisibility before leaving his room. He scanned the hall outside before he stepped out. If anyone saw the door open and close by itself they might grow curious.

    The kitchens were at the rear of the castle on the first floor. Damien strolled through the empty halls, seeing no one save a servant hurrying along, carrying a mop and sloshing bucket of water, and completely unaware that he was walking a couple feet to her right. Damien smiled. It was fun walking around with no one knowing he was there.

    Damien smelled the kitchen long before he reached it. The pleasant, yeasty scent of bread mingled with cooking bacon. His mouth watered. A bacon sandwich and cold mug of ale would suit him just fine. Knives thunking into cutting boards and someone shouting about burning rolls told him he was getting close.

    He rounded the corner in time to see one of the bodyguards from last night grab a servant by the arm and drag her away from the kitchen door. He didn¡¯t know the man, Damien had only spoken to Sloan. What could he want with the servant?

    Damien could only think of one thing and if that¡¯s what the bodyguard wanted Damien would have to step in. He followed them down a long hall toward the back of the castle. The guard pushed a door open and dragged the girl out into the yard. Damien slipped through the open door and followed them toward the stable. It looked like he had the right idea.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Damien almost canceled his invisibility, but hesitated. He didn¡¯t want to give himself away unless he absolutely had to. The girl wasn¡¯t screaming for help, but from her frightened eyes and pale face he felt certain she didn¡¯t want to be going along with him. Maybe she knew no one would help if one of the barons¡¯ bodyguards wanted to have his way with her.

    They ducked into the stable and Damien hurried up behind them. If he pushed her down into a pile of hay Damien would step in, disguise be damned. He peeked through the doorway. The guard had released the servant and she rubbed a red spot on her arm where he¡¯d gripped her.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to be so rough,¡± the girl said.

    ¡°I had to make it look like I was dragging you off for a tumble. Do you have any poison left?¡±

    Damien tensed. Were these two behind the attempt to kill Lane?

    The servant dug two little pouches out of a pocket in her uniform. ¡°There isn¡¯t much. I put two scoops in the woman¡¯s food like you said.¡±

    The man snatched the poison out of her hand and stuffed it in his pocket.

    ¡°When can we leave? If I have to put up with one more of Master Kannon¡¯s pinches I fear I may slap him.¡±

    ¡°Soon.¡± The bodyguard held out his arms and she went to him. The girl buried her face in his chest and he held her with one arm. The other arm reached around and pulled a dirk from a sheath at the small of his back. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m almost done.¡±

    Damien wrapped the girl in a soul force barrier an instant before the bodyguard tried to stab her in the gut. The servant¡¯s eyes went wide when his weapon bounced off her uniform. Damien wished he could have seen the look on the bodyguard¡¯s face.

    He slipped into the stable, wrapped the man up in a cocoon of soul force, and stiffened the shield around the servant so she couldn¡¯t move. With his prisoners secure, Damien let his invisibility fade. The girl¡¯s eyes got even wider and the bodyguard tried to move, but only managed to fall over. Damien surrounded the stable with a sound barrier so no one would overhear them.

    ¡°I think we need to talk.¡± He turned to the girl. ¡°You put poison in Lane¡¯s food?¡±

    Her lip trembled. ¡°He promised to take me away. He said to just put a little powder in her food and she¡¯d get sick and not be able to finish the negotiations. It¡¯s so awful here. I just wanted to escape.¡±

    Stupid girl. ¡°You¡¯ll find the mines a good deal less comfortable, assuming they don¡¯t hang you.¡±

    She started bawling and Damien gagged her with a strip of soul force. He should feel sorry for her. The guard clearly used her and it sounded like the baron took advantage of her. Maybe if she¡¯d poisoned Kannon he would have been more understanding.

    He turned his attention to the bodyguard lying on the ground. The cocoon around his head vanished.

    ¡°Help! Sloan! James! Anyone!¡±

    Damien crouched beside him. ¡°No one can hear you. We¡¯re going to have a chat. If you tell me what I want to know I won¡¯t crush you into a bloody mush.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t tell you anything.¡± He spat at Damien.

    Thankfully the spit slid right off Damien¡¯s personal shield. Damien clenched his fist and the cocoon shrank, squeezing the guard¡¯s body. The man gasped for breath.

    ¡°Who told you to kill Lane?¡±

    ¡°Go to hell!¡±

    Damien shook his head and squeezed again. The guard moaned and fell silent when he couldn¡¯t refill his lungs. Damien let him suffocate for a minute before he allowed the guard take a breath.

    ¡°The next squeeze will break ribs. Consider your words carefully.¡±

    ¡°All right, I¡¯ll tell you whateve¡ª¡±

    The guard screamed when dark fire shot out his eyes and ears. Black tar oozed out of his nose and he stopped breathing.

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Damien slammed a fist on the stable wall. A warlock had put a binding on him. Poor bastard probably didn¡¯t even realize it. He turned to the servant and found her unconscious on the stable floor. ¡°Damn it!¡±

    Now who could tell him what was going on?

 2.34

    Lane yawned, stretched, and rolled out of the soft, warm bed. After Damien¡¯s revelation about the poison it had taken her a while to relax enough to fall asleep. Her beautiful dress hung in a wardrobe. She wouldn¡¯t be wearing it to today¡¯s meeting. This would be all business.

    She debated telling the barons about the poison, but if they were behind it she¡¯d be alone in a room with ten men who wanted her dead. If she kept her mouth shut it would probably be safer. Safe was good.

    Her stomach groaned and she reached for the pull rope. Her arm was halfway to the silk cord when she caught herself. What if they brought more poisoned food? Better wait until Damien was up and could check it. She pulled a tunic over her head, but didn¡¯t bother with trousers.

    Lane studied her long, bare legs. Plenty of men had complimented her on them and she wondered what Damien¡¯s reaction would be when she walked in. She smiled, a little heat in her cheeks.

    Lane had spent some time with men, of course, but never anything serious. Most found her mother too intimidating and she was often busy on a diplomatic assignment. Some found her success hard to take, but she hadn¡¯t gotten to be one of the kingdom¡¯s top diplomats by worrying about some man¡¯s disapproval. Ultimately the only man she had to please wore the crown.

    Damien didn¡¯t strike her as the type to be intimidated by a successful woman, or anything else for that matter. His door opened then thumped shut. He¡¯d been up and gone out already? She took a deep breath and let it out slow. Was she really considering getting involved with a sorcerer? She didn¡¯t even know if Damien liked her. Considering how she¡¯d treated him for most of the trip it wouldn¡¯t surprise her if he couldn¡¯t stand her.

    Well, all she could do was apologize and tell him how she felt. If he rejected her she couldn¡¯t blame him.

    Lane knocked once on the connecting door and pushed it open. Her jaw dropped. Damien was halfway across the room, an unconscious girl over one shoulder and a basket in the opposite hand.

    He stopped and looked over at her, a sheepish smile on his face. He held out the basket. ¡°I brought breakfast.¡±

    A million questions whirled in Lane¡¯s head, but she couldn¡¯t force a single one past her lips. She took the basket from him and Damien continued on to the wardrobe. The doors opened at his approach and he set the girl gently inside before closing them.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    He rolled his shoulders and turned back toward her. All Lane could manage was to stare dumbly at him, the unopened basket still in her hand.

    He took the basket back and sat on his bed. When he opened it the mouthwatering aroma of bread and bacon wafted out. Her stomach groaned and jolted her out of her stupor.

    ¡°Why did you carry an unconscious girl into your bedroom?¡±

    A golden table appeared in front of Damien and he spread the contents of the basket out on it. ¡°She¡¯s the one that tried to poison you yesterday.¡±

    Lane sat beside him. ¡°What happened?¡±

    Damien told her about his adventure this morning. ¡°So when the hellfire ward went off and the guard¡¯s charred brains leaked out his nose the girl fainted. She saw me use sorcery and tried to kill you once already, so I decided to take her into custody. I put a block in her brain that¡¯ll keep her out for a day or so. The real question is, what do you want to do now?¡±

    Lane¡¯s head spun. This was too much for her. She was a diplomat and she¡¯d dealt with some tricky situations over the last three years, but murder and warlocks were beyond her comfort zone. Way beyond. Damien just looked at her while he ate a bacon sandwich.

    ¡°Is the warlock in the area?¡± she asked.

    He swallowed and took a drink from a skin of ale. ¡°I doubt it. I would have sensed a powerful, corrupt soul force if it was within a few miles. Do you still want to go to the meeting?¡±

    She nibbled on a piece of bacon and frowned. ¡°Do you think they¡¯re in on it? Trying to kill me, I mean.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know a lot of things. The guard¡¯s brain melted before he could tell me anything useful. It¡¯s risky if you go, but their reactions will tell you a lot about how involved they are. I disintegrated the guard¡¯s body so no one will know he¡¯s dead. Since the girl is missing too, I hope the others will think they ran off together.¡±

    Lane finished her bacon and started peeling an orange, the mindless task occupying her hands while she thought. How did this mission become so complicated? First the thugs in Allentown, then the poison, a dead guard and unconscious servant, not to mention the fact that she feared she was falling for her bodyguard. She wanted to throw her hands up and scream.

    ¡°If you wanted orange juice I could have squeezed some for you.¡±

    Lane stared at him, uncomprehending. What was he talking about? She followed his gaze down to her hands. She¡¯d crushed the orange to pulp without noticing the sticky juice running down her finger into a golden cup.

    Damien smiled, stood, and walked over to the bedside stand. He poured water, soaked a cloth, and wrung it out. Lane accepted the proffered cloth and cleaned her sticky fingers.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°Sure. This¡¯ll all work out. If you want to go through with the meeting I can wrap you in a shield of invisible soul force. The barons could beat on you with a sledgehammer and you wouldn¡¯t break a nail. As long as you don¡¯t eat or drink anything you¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Some of the tension oozed out of her. Damien¡¯s reassurance set her mind at ease. ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡±

 2.35

    Two hours later found Damien standing in a little room with nine other guys. No chairs had been provided, no food or drinks either. When he and Lane arrived several of the guards had tensed, but they made no overt moves. Lane went right through a second door to join the barons. He¡¯d caught a glimpse of a large table surrounded by leather chairs before the door closed.

    Lane had guts going in there, even with his shield protecting her. He respected that. She¡¯d gotten a lot friendlier since Allentown. Damien didn¡¯t know who¡¯d been more surprised when she walked in on him carrying the girl. He¡¯d almost dropped her when he saw Lane standing there in just her tunic, her legs bare from mid-thigh. Maybe it was her way of making up for walking in on him when he was washing up.

    A little smile curled his lip. He appreciated the gesture.

    ¡°Want to let us in on the joke?¡± Sloan had made his way across the empty room to stand beside Damien.

    ¡°No. Say, aren¡¯t we a man short?¡± Damien looked around as though trying to spot the dead guard.

    Sloan grimaced. ¡°Dade was sweet on one of the serving girls. Looks like they ran off.¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°Not very professional.¡±

    ¡°No. What about your charge? Did she sleep well?¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Damien shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. ¡°She didn¡¯t complain. That¡¯s all I care about.¡±

    ¡°I hear you. I swear Trasker is always bitching about something. The room¡¯s too hot or too cold. The food doesn¡¯t suit him. You¡¯d think I was the man¡¯s valet instead of his bodyguard.¡±

    Sloan was trying to act natural, but the question about Lane and the fact that Dade shouted for him made a lie of the act. With a supreme act of willpower Damien restrained himself from blasting Sloan to ash. ¡°I¡¯ve never been assigned to guard a nobleman. From the sounds of it I don¡¯t want to either.¡±

    ¡°Ha! You got that right, kid. The sooner this meeting ends and I can dump the old fart off on his own people the better.¡±

    The meeting went on for three hours before they broke for lunch. No poison was included with the food and an hour after the meal they went back to it. Damien tried to stay sharp, but damn it was boring standing around the empty little room. After his initial chat with Sloan none of the other guards approached him.

    Finally, late in the evening, an exhausted Lane staggered out of the meeting room. ¡°We¡¯re done, and I¡¯m beat. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Damien escorted her back to their rooms. Neither of them spoke until he raised a sound barrier. ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡±

    She sighed and slumped down on the edge of his bed. ¡°We chased our tails for eight hours. They argued minor, meaningless points to death. None of them seemed to have come to a consensus about what they actually want the king to do. It¡¯s like they don¡¯t want a deal at all.¡±

    ¡°Did they seemed surprised to see you?¡±

    ¡°No. If any of them knew about the poison they¡¯re excellent actors.¡±

    Damien frowned and paced around the room. What in heaven¡¯s name was going on here? ¡°How did you leave it with the barons?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to try again tomorrow afternoon. I frankly can¡¯t see much point, but I¡¯ll do my best given the alternative.¡±

    The alternative wasn¡¯t what she imagined, but he¡¯d give her one more day before he carried out his orders.

 2.36

    A hand clamped over Lane¡¯s mouth. She struggled and tried to scream for Damien. Warm breath on her ear then Damien¡¯s voice, barely a whisper. ¡°Relax, it¡¯s me. Someone¡¯s trying to pick the lock to my room.¡±

    Lane¡¯s racing heart slowed and she stopped fighting. Damien¡¯s hand slipped off her mouth. ¡°What do we do?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t do anything. I¡¯m going to let them in and capture them. Maybe I can get something before their brains melt.¡±

    In the pitch-black room Lane¡¯s sense of hearing seemed heightened. She imagined she could hear the scraping of the lock pick in Damien¡¯s door. A faint click sounded and a dim light showed under the connecting door.

    She held her breath. What was happening?

    The sound of tearing cloth then angry shouts. Damien uncovered her glow lamp. Lane winced and squinted her eyes at the bright light. When her vision cleared she found Damien, fully dressed, sitting beside her on the bed.

    He grinned. ¡°We caught three little fish. Shall we go see what they have to say for themselves?¡±

    ¡°I have to get dressed.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll go check things out. Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t start the questioning until you¡¯re ready.¡±

    Damien left and Lane rolled out of bed. She took several deep breaths, trying to bring herself under control. When she fantasized about having Damien visit her room this wasn¡¯t what she had in mind. Lane shook out yesterday¡¯s tunic and pants and slipped into them. She groped around under the bed for her boots then pulled them on. She didn¡¯t bother washing up.

    She opened the connecting door and found Damien standing over three golden cocoons laying on his bed. He turned her way and smiled. ¡°Ready?¡±

    Lane crossed the room and stood beside him. ¡°Ready.¡±

    The energy covering the three men¡¯s heads vanished and they started yelling. Lane winced at the noise, but Damien just watched them, cold and indifferent. A minute passed before they finally gave up and fell silent.

    ¡°As you¡¯ve no doubt realized, no one is coming to your rescue,¡± Damien said. ¡°I¡¯m going to ask you some questions. You¡¯re going to answer me honestly. If you don¡¯t, I¡¯ll make you scream until your throats bleed.¡±

    The captive men went pale and Lane knew how they felt. Damien threatened them in such a matter-of-fact way it sent a chill down her spine. She didn¡¯t think he was just saying it for effect either.

    Damien pointed at the first man and he flinched. ¡°Let¡¯s start with you. Who sent you to kill Lane?¡±

    The prisoner opened his mouth but nothing came out. Damien shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve blocked the portion of your brain that controls lies. You¡¯ll either speak the truth or you won¡¯t speak at all. Who sent you?¡±

    The captive man clenched his jaw and remained silent.

    Damien sighed and turned to her. ¡°Did you know a sorcerer can directly stimulate the pain receptors in a person¡¯s brain, causing them extreme agony without resorting to cutting or breaking bones? I¡¯ve never done it, but it looked simple enough. Of course, if I use too much power the subject¡¯s head might explode, but we have spares and I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll get it right before I kill all of them.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Lane stared in growing horror at Damien. Why was he telling her all this? The last thing she wanted to know was how a sorcerer could best torture people. When one of the prisoners whimpered Damien winked at her. Lane released the breath she hadn¡¯t known she was holding. He was just playing, trying to convince them to talk without hurting them.

    Damien turned his attention back to the prisoners. ¡°So who wants to go first?¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± the center man said. ¡°Sloan sent us. He¡¯s in charge of the guards.¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± the right-hand prisoner said. The cocoon wrapped his head up and he fell silent.

    ¡°Keep talking,¡± Damien said.

    ¡°Sloan said if the king¡¯s envoy was killed while visiting one of the barons¡¯ keeps the barons wouldn¡¯t be able to back out. Since the poison didn¡¯t work he sent us. We were going to kill you first then the girl.¡±

    Lane blanched at the casual way the prisoner said he was sent to kill her. Like it was no big deal. Maybe to him it wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°Who are you people?¡± Damien asked. ¡°You¡¯re obviously not kingdom men.¡±

    ¡°The Bandit King sent us to keep an eye on the barons. Our master feared they lacked the spine to uphold the bargain they struck.¡±

    ¡°What bargain?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know the details. Our master offered them something in exchange for leaving the kingdom and swearing allegiance to him.¡±

    The bindings expanded to cover all the prisoners and Damien turned to Lane. ¡°What do you make of that?¡±

    She shook her head. Lane didn¡¯t know what to make of it. She now understood why they hadn¡¯t made much effort at negotiating. The barons didn¡¯t want a deal. They wanted her to give up and leave. ¡°I don¡¯t know and I can¡¯t imagine what the bandits might have to offer the barons. I wasn¡¯t under the impression they had a single ruler. Everything I¡¯ve read says the bandits work in small groups that fight with each other as much as they raid us.¡±

    ¡°That was my understanding as well. Perhaps the warlock that put the hellfire wards in their heads is this Bandit King. That, at least, would make some sort of sense.¡±

    ¡°I suppose. What are we going to do now?¡± Lane knew she was in charge of this mission, but it had become clear to her that she was in way over her head.

    ¡°First, I have to tell you something. Your mother didn¡¯t just send me to protect you. My secondary mission was to eliminate the barons if they proved unwilling to see reason.¡±

    Anger flashed through Lane. Had her mother believed her incapable of resolving this matter or did she know about the bandits and used Lane as a way for Damien to get close to his targets without drawing undue attention? Either way she should have trusted Lane enough to tell her.

    ¡°When were you planning on telling me?¡± Lane thought she managed to keep the resentment out of her voice.

    ¡°My instructions were not to tell you until absolutely necessary. If the negotiations went well you were to never know about my mission. That was the result we were all hoping for.¡±

    ¡°You should have told me.¡± Lane failed to keep the heat out of her voice.

    Damien shook his head. ¡°Not my decision. The archmage thought this was the way to handle things. It¡¯s hardly the place of a first-year sorcerer seven months out of the tower to question her.¡±

    Damien had a point, she knew that, but Lane needed someone to be angry with and Damien was here. ¡°So what now? Are you going to go kill the barons?¡±

    ¡°I suppose I could, but I¡¯m curious about what the Bandit King offered them that would make them betray their country. Once I hear their answer I¡¯ll decide whether to kill them for treason or not.¡±

    ¡°What about them?¡± Lane jerked a thumb toward the cocooned assassins.

    ¡°The bindings will hold them for a day or two. Once I understand what¡¯s happening I can either leave them for the barons to deal with or execute them along with the traitors.¡±

    Lane stared in horror at him. ¡°Just like that?¡±

    Damien nodded, seeming untroubled. ¡°They¡¯re murderers. As an agent of the king I¡¯m well within my authority to execute them.¡±

    She remembered what he said as they left Allentown, about the ability to kill without hesitation or regret. Lane had thought he meant in battle, but now she realized it extended beyond that. She couldn¡¯t comprehend his way of thinking. Damien didn¡¯t seem to take any pleasure in killing, but he wasn¡¯t shy about it either. It seemed a part of his life, as ordinary as cleaning his teeth or shaving and as unworthy of comment.

    The bound men floated off the top of the bed and flew under it, like bags being put under the bed for storage.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go talk to the barons,¡± Damien said.

    Lane couldn¡¯t manage more than a mute nod.

 2.37

    Damien left the bound men under his bed and turned to Lane. ¡°I¡¯ll turn us invisible. Stay close and keep quiet.¡±

    ¡°What about the guards?¡±

    ¡°They won¡¯t be a problem.¡±

    Lane favored him with that horrified look again. You¡¯d think he¡¯d said he was going to drown kittens or something. Was she really so worried about a bunch of killers? How many people had these bandits murdered over the years? Yet she was looking at him like he was the bad guy.

    Damien scanned the hall outside and found the way clear. He wrapped them in invisibility and they slipped out into the hall. The barons¡¯ chambers were in another section of the keep. With each step the hard soles of Lane¡¯s boots clicked on the stone floor. No way they¡¯d be able to sneak up on the guards at this rate.

    He stopped and Lane asked, ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Your boots are making too much noise.¡± He held out his hand. ¡°Hang on.¡±

    She gripped his hand and Damien conjured a floating disk under them. Lane stumbled, but he caught her. When she¡¯d settled in Damien willed the disk down the hall. They made no more noise than a whisper of wind.

    This late at night even the servants slept, allowing Damien to zoom along the halls at a good clip. Several twists and turns later found them at the end of a long hall that branched left and right. Ten doors lined the far wall and a guard stood in front of each one. They reminded Damien more of jailers than protectors.

    He turned left and drifted to the last door. None of the guards reacted when they ghosted past. Damien studied the men in passing and soon realized they weren¡¯t the same group he¡¯d seen guarding the barons during the day. Those men were probably sleeping. That worked out well for Damien as none of the night guards were warlords.

    Damien wrapped the last guard in an invisible binding. The unfortunate young man couldn¡¯t even twitch without Damien¡¯s permission. He looked a little stiff, but unless one of the others came to talk to him he should pass inspection.

    With the guard bound and helpless, Damien conjured a screen between them and the remaining guards so they could work without fear of being spotted. Lane gave the door a tug and shook her head. Locked.

    That was no problem. A dark blob of energy the size of his finger appeared in the air and slid into the keyhole. Damien concentrated, shaping the key to the lock then twisting it. The tumblers snapped into place and they slipped through the open door.

    Inside, the baron¡¯s room was pitch dark. Damien wrapped the room in a sound barrier then conjured a small light. Despite being in another section of the keep, the bedroom looked almost the same as Damien¡¯s, though the bed was a little bigger and had four posters. There was also a small fireplace for really cold nights.

    A snoring heap of blubber lay sprawled on the bed, thankfully wearing a silk sleeping robe. Damien crossed his arms and stared at the man. ¡°Which one is this?¡±

    Lane grimaced. ¡°Baron Marris. I thought you were going to kill the guard.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.¡°You said¡ª¡±

    ¡°I said the guards wouldn¡¯t be a problem, you assumed the rest.¡±

    She managed a weak smile. ¡°I suppose I did. What now?¡±

    ¡°Now we wake the disloyal turd and see what he has to say for himself.¡±

    Damien conjured a needle and stuck the baron in his giant ass. The man yelped and sat up. He spotted Damien and Lane and glowered. ¡°How dare you enter my¡ª¡±

    Damien silenced him with a soul force gag. ¡°Baron, we know about your deal with the Bandit King. You¡¯re going to provide me with details then I¡¯ll decide if I should kill you or not. What did he offer you that made you betray your country?¡±

    Damien removed the invisible gag so the now-trembling man could answer.

    ¡°Please. We didn¡¯t have a choice. They took our families, my wife, my son, and two daughters. He said if I did what they wanted everyone would be returned. I ne¡ª¡±

    The baron choked on whatever lie he was about to tell. The bit about his family, at least, was true. If the bandits had taken the barons¡¯ families it explained a lot.

    ¡°Trasker told me they left their wives and children at home because of the tension with the kingdom,¡± Lane said. ¡°And I bought it.¡±

    ¡°No reason you shouldn¡¯t have. Under the circumstances it made a reasonable enough explanation. The real question is how did they grab the families, and where are they now? How about it, Baron? And don¡¯t try to lie to me again.¡±

    Marris cleared his throat. ¡°I don¡¯t know where my family is and I don¡¯t know who took them. I saw a man, at least I assume he was a man, with pale skin, and black lines running under his skin like overfull veins. His eyes were crimson pits. He came to my castle, landed right in the courtyard. My guards tried to stop him, but he swatted them away like insects. We tried everything¡ªswords, axes, arrows¡ªbut nothing fazed him. He wrapped my family in a black bubble and said unless I did what he wanted I¡¯d never see them in one piece again.¡±

    ¡°What, exactly, did he want?¡± Lane asked.

    ¡°He told me to leave the kingdom and swear allegiance to him. I said I needed to talk to the others and he gave us until our annual meeting to decide. My family has been gone for three months.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s too simple,¡± Lane said. ¡°The kidnapper had to know the king wouldn¡¯t just let you leave the kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Unless the king was dead.¡± The assassination attempt was starting to make more sense to Damien now. ¡°If the assassin had succeeded it would have taken Karrie and her mother months to solidify their authority. By then who knows how many bandits might have crossed the border or how much damage they might have done.¡±

    Lane stared at him, her eyes wide.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t your mother tell you about the assassination attempt?¡±

    Lane shook her head. ¡°Apparently a couple of things slipped Mother¡¯s mind when she briefed me about this mission. What now?¡±

    ¡°We need to talk to the rest of the barons and see if we can learn anything else. Where¡¯s Trasker?¡±

    Marris chewed his lip. ¡°The opposite end of the hall. Please, don¡¯t let the guards know I talked. If word gets to the Bandit King my family¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°How are we going to sneak past the guards to see the other barons?¡± Lane asked.

    ¡°I thought we¡¯d take the direct route.¡±

    Damien pointed at the connecting wall and a golden beam lanced out from his finger. He sliced a disk out of the wall, pulled it out, and leaned it beside the hole. ¡°See, no problem.¡±

    Damien and Lane visited the next eight barons and received almost identical stories. Their families had been taken and unless they did what they were told they¡¯d be killed.

    Before he approached the last wall Damien turned to Lane. ¡°What do you think Trasker will have to say? He¡¯s the one that was supposed to have hired the assassin.¡±

    ¡°If he was willing to leave the kingdom to keep his family safe I see no reason he wouldn¡¯t hire an assassin if so ordered.¡±

    ¡°I suppose. Well, he can tell us himself in a second.¡±

    Damien sliced through the wall just as he had all the others. Trasker lay sleeping in his oversized bed. Lane was starting toward him when shouts sounded from out in the hall. Sounded like someone was raising the alarm. Damien poured power into the sound barrier changing it into a solid wall. That would keep the barons safe.

    The door to Trasker¡¯s room burst open and a pair of guards charged in, their swords drawn. Damien wrapped them in golden cocoons. The guards fell to the floor, completely immobilized.

    The baron sat up, sputtering. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡±

    Damien gagged him with a band of soul force. The baron mumbled unintelligibly and pawed at his mouth.

    When no more enemies presented themselves Damien walked to the door and poked his head out. The hall was empty.

    Where¡¯d the other guards go? Even the one he bound had disappeared.

 2.38

    Damien raced back through the barons¡¯ rooms. Everyone was huddled in their beds just as he left them, all except Marris. The fat tub of goo was gone. He must have been the one that alerted the guards. The question was why. Damien couldn¡¯t imagine, but he hoped some of his prisoners could tell him.

    He rejoined Lane in Trasker¡¯s room. The baron sat on the edge of his bed holding his head in his hands, a heavy dressing gown around his shoulders. ¡°Marris is gone,¡± Damien said.

    Trasker looked up. ¡°Of course he is. Marris belonged to the bandits long before this most recent assault. We could never prove anything, but we all suspected he allowed the bandits to slip across the border in exchange for a cut of their loot and a promise not to raid in his territory.¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t occur to you to mention this to someone in the capital?¡± Lane sounded as outraged as Damien felt.

    ¡°We had no proof!¡± Trasker ground his teeth. ¡°Without something solid it would have been an empty accusation. Marris would have brushed it off as nothing but envy on our part.¡±

    The man had a point, Damien had to concede that. Still, if the barons had at least mentioned their suspicions, agents of the crown could have kept an eye on Marris and tried to find proof.

    The other barons gathered in the opening Damien had cut in the wall to listen in.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Did you hire the assassin that tried to murder the king?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Trasker¡¯s head slumped into his hands again. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t done it someone else would have. That pale monster threatened to send me my daughter¡¯s left foot if I refused.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know where your family is?¡± Damien asked.

    Trasker gave a mute shake of his head.

    ¡°Marris might know,¡± one of the barons in the other room said. ¡°Or Sloan, the head guard.¡±

    Damien gestured and one of the bound guards floated upright. A quick search revealed the hellfire ward in the same place as the men that broke into their room. He neutralized the ward and caused the cocoon around the bandit¡¯s head to vanish, revealing a terrified face.

    ¡°Where did Marris and the rest run off to?¡± Damien asked.

    The bandit opened his mouth, but no sound emerged when he tried to lie. Damien conjured a pair of blades and set them spinning a few feet from the man¡¯s head. ¡°You¡¯d better tell me or I¡¯m going to slice your face off.¡±

    The bandit trembled. ¡°South, half a day or so¡¯s ride there¡¯s a farm where we stashed horses and supplies, just in case. That¡¯s where they¡¯ll go before they head for the badlands.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Damien flung the man up against the wall. His head bounced off the stone with a dull thud and he slumped to the ground.

    Damien turned to Lane. ¡°I need to go after them. If you don¡¯t feel safe with the barons I can barricade you in your room until I return.¡±

    Lane looked at the huddled, frightened men. ¡°I¡¯ll be okay here. Go.¡±

    Damien ran out the door, pausing long enough to seal the barrier and pour enough power into it to make it last until he got back or a day passed. He¡¯d swing by the suite he shared with Lane and renew the binding on the three would-be assassins and the servant girl. Lane would be safe enough as long as she could handle the barons. Judging from the looks on their faces they wouldn¡¯t give her any trouble.

    For their sakes they¡¯d better not.

 2.39

    The sun was just peeking over the horizon as Damien flew south, low over the trees, in the hopes of catching the bandits by surprise. He wasn¡¯t optimistic. Sloan struck him as a clever man and he¡¯d have to know Damien would be pursuing them. After leaving Lane and the barons Damien had run to the castle¡¯s stables and found them empty.

    A short ways ahead, the shingled roof of an old, weathered gray barn jutted up out of a clearing. That had to be the place. He hadn¡¯t seen another sign of life since leaving the castle.

    Damien strengthened his shield before he landed in a dusty yard fifty paces from the barn. Tracks covered the ground as far as he could see, leading to the barn. This was the place all right. To his left the burned-out husk of a farm house jutted out of its root cellar. Whatever had happened, it looked like it was a long time ago.

    Amplifying his voice with soul force, Damien shouted. ¡°Come out of there and I might let you live.¡±

    Metal squeaked on metal as the barn door slid open. That had gone better than Damien hoped.

    Ka-chunk!

    A ballista bolt hurled out of the open door. He barely registered it before the iron-tipped bolt hammered into his chest. Damien flew back across the clearing, bounced twice when the bolt lost momentum, and skidded to a stop against the trunk of a twisted old oak.

    He groaned and sat up, head spinning. Dizzy, but uninjured, Damien clambered to his feet and touched his chest. The bolt hadn¡¯t penetrated his shield. Thank heaven for that.

    He turned his furious gaze on the barn. In the dim light figures rushed around, cranking the winch, carrying another bolt over and sliding it into the slot.

    Damien frowned and leapt into the air. He flew five hundred feet straight up, hovered a moment, and then accelerated toward the barn roof.

    Dry timbers shattered when he struck.

    Splinters the size of daggers bounced off his shield.

    He hit the dirt floor and flooded the barn with white light.

    Eight men surrounded him, one warlord and the rest regular warriors, squinting against the glare. The ballista rested on a swivel mount in the back of a wagon. The operator wrestled the heavy siege weapon around to point it at Damien. He managed to turn the ballista halfway before a blast of raw soul force obliterated both man and weapon.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Six of the survivors charged him, waving a mixture of swords and axes. Lances of golden energy pierced the bandits from every direction.

    Weaklings. They¡¯d have been better off surrendering.

    The men collapsed and the lances¡¯ energy returned to Damien.

    He turned to find the last man a foot from him, his iron-studded mace streaking for Damien¡¯s head. The mace bounced off his shield.

    The bandit warlord¡¯s eyes went wide. Damien wrapped him from the neck down in soul force bindings.

    He¡¯d done it enough times now that removing the hellfire ward and putting the truth barrier in place took only a moment. Damien crossed his arms and glared. ¡°Where are Sloan and Marris?¡±

    The bandit¡¯s jaw clenched and he looked away. Damien conjured a golden blade and used it to force his prisoner to look at him. Since he had just one prisoner Damien didn¡¯t dare try any of the fancy interrogation techniques he¡¯d learned.

    ¡°Talk or bleed.¡±

    ¡°Go to hell, sorcerer.¡±

    Damien shook his head. Why were they all so stubborn? He drove his conjured blade into the bandit¡¯s shoulder. It sliced through the man¡¯s weak iron-skin technique like it was nothing. The bandit growled and clenched his teeth against the pain.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to do better than that if you want to break me.¡±

    Damien caused needles to grow from the blade in every direction.

    The bandit screamed as the needles burrowed into flesh and bone. After a couple of seconds Damien stopped them. ¡°It only gets worse from here. Those needles take a long time to burrow to your heart.¡±

    His prisoner panted and tried to swallow. He didn¡¯t talk.

    Damien shrugged. ¡°Have it your way.¡±

    ¡°Wait! They rode south, back to base. Marris is going to have the prisoners killed.¡±

    That was no surprise. ¡°Where is this base?¡±

    ¡°Across the border. Twenty miles south and a little east. You can¡¯t miss it, it¡¯s the only building in the area.¡±

    ¡°Tell me more about your base.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you take this thing out of my arm?¡±

    Damien made the needles grow another inch, prompting a shout of pain. ¡°The base.¡±

    The bandit snarled. ¡°It¡¯s an old stone fortress built into a rock formation. The bosses found it years ago, before my time, cleared out the scruffs, and moved in.¡±

    Damien raised an eyebrow. ¡°Scruffs?¡±

    ¡°Big, ugly lizards, with frills around their necks. We call ¡®em scruffs. Three hundred of us live there, though most of the time it¡¯s just forty or fifty. There¡¯s dungeons on the lowest level. That¡¯s where they took the women and kids.¡±

    ¡°What about the Bandit King?¡±

    ¡°That freak, him and his muscle. He showed up one day, maybe six months ago, and says we all work for him. That got a laugh. The way he killed the old chief didn¡¯t. You¡¯re an amateur compared to him. He made us all watch. When he finally finished he announced again that we all worked for him. No one argued. He hung around for a couple months then flew off. We haven¡¯t seen him since.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s in charge now?¡±

    ¡°Sloan and Janson handle the day-to-day stuff. That big armored bastard comes by once in a while to make sure we¡¯re doing what we¡¯re supposed to. Like we¡¯d be stupid enough to do anything else.¡±

    Damien nodded. He had a pretty good handle on things now. ¡°Thank you. You¡¯ve been very helpful.¡±

    He sliced the bandit¡¯s head off with a conjured blade. Now he had to catch Sloan and Marris before they could warn the others their plan had failed.

 2.40

    Damien floated far above the ground, searching for signs of movement. Dealing with the bandits at the farm had taken less than an hour so the rest couldn¡¯t be too far ahead of him. If Sloan and Marris kept to the forest he might miss them, but a mile or so from the border the thick hardwood gave way to scrub and eventually a mix of sand and gravel. He¡¯d have no trouble spotting them when they emerged. The bandit he¡¯d questioned told him everything he needed to know in order to rescue the hostages so there was no need to capture either the baron or Sloan.

    Lane¡¯s disapproving face appeared in his mind¡¯s eye. No, she wouldn¡¯t like it if he killed them out of hand. Contrariwise he felt like both men had earned a death sentence. As a high-ranking bandit Sloan had no doubt done many horrible things and Marris was a traitor to his country and his people. Damien considered that the worse crime.

    He caught movement through a gap in the branches. Damien dove toward the opening, flashing through the leaves and shattering branches. On the ground he found two horses racing away, their saddles empty.

    Damn it!

    No way Marris was running for it. Either they had extra horses or¡ª

    Something heavy landed on Damien¡¯s back, driving him to the ground. A dagger pounded his ribs, trying with no success to penetrate his shield. More annoyed than hurt Damien sent spikes of soul force out his shield and into whoever was on top of him.

    The rain of blows stopped and he shrugged off his attacker. Halfway to his feet someone kicked him in the back of the head. He dropped back into the dirt. Snarling, Damien conjured a whirlwind of blades around his body. Bits of his attacker spattered him.

    Satisfied that he wouldn¡¯t be attacked again, Damien clambered to his feet. Eight bandits surrounded him, with Sloan in the center, a curved blade dripping black flames in his right hand. The weapon¡¯s corruption made Damien nauseous.

    Eager to end the fight Damien sent his barrier of blades flying toward the bandits. Most of them fell, pierced repeatedly. Sloan blurred and his horrific weapon sliced every golden blade that came close out of the air before it hit.

    Damien grimaced. He was in for a fight now.

    He sent more power to his shield an instant before Sloan appeared a couple feet away. His sword snaked toward Damien¡¯s face at warlord speed. The tip skipped off Damien¡¯s shield. Even though it didn¡¯t penetrate, Damien¡¯s skin burned under his barrier where the corrupt blade had touched it.

    Sloan recovered from his failed attack in half a heartbeat. The blade darted back in for another try.

    Damien expanded his shield, pushing it out from his skin. Once again the corrupt blade skipped off. It sickened Damien, but didn¡¯t burn him.

    Like a tornado of steel Sloan slashed over and over again. His sword couldn¡¯t break through, but every blow drained a little of Damien¡¯s power.

    It wouldn¡¯t happen fast, but eventually Sloan would wear him down.

    He couldn¡¯t let that happen.

    Damien sent soul force into the ground. It burrowed under his shield and sprang up around Sloan¡¯s ankles. Tentacles of golden energy wrapped around the bandit¡¯s legs. Thorns shot out, piercing Sloan to the bone and locking him in place.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.Sloan ripped his right sleeve back, revealing a black tattoo of a horned skull. He dragged his thumbnail across the skull. Blood welled and burst into dark flames.

    The flames surged across Sloan¡¯s body, burning the thorns and tentacles away and healing his wounds. The bandit threw his head back and howled like an animal.

    Damien leapt for the sky. He needed to put some space between them. Sloan wouldn¡¯t be able to channel that much corrupt soul force very long. The smart move was to wear him down from a distance, then when Sloan collapsed, finish him.

    Sloan must have known it too. He leapt twenty feet up, kicked off a small maple with enough force to shatter the trunk, and arced over to an old oak. His boots landed on a gnarly branch. He kicked off again, sailing straight toward Damien.

    Damien powered higher. There was no way a warlord, even augmented with demonic soul force, could leap as high as Damien could fly.

    The burning sword swung toward Damien. Black flames streaked up. Damien dodged the first burst, but the stream twisted like a serpent.

    Damien drew more power. Somehow he put enough energy between him and the flames that they didn¡¯t consume him. They did drive him down into the ground with enough force that his body embedded six inches into the forest floor.

    Sloan landed fifty paces away, panting. Veins had burst in his face and black blood dripped to the dirt, sizzling where it hit. He couldn¡¯t keep this up much longer and Damien still had half his power left.

    A quarter of Damien¡¯s soul force went into a pair of golden griffins. The constructs rushed at Sloan. Gleaming claws slashed and curved beaks snapped.

    With insane speed even Jen would have envied, Sloan blocked every attack and somehow found openings to carve chunks out of the griffins. Another vein burst in the bandit¡¯s forehead. Blood ran down his face, but it didn¡¯t seem to faze him. Damien fired an energy blast. If he could score a hit or even distract the warlord the griffins would tear him to shreds.

    If someone asked, Damien would have had no way to describe how Sloan twisted his body to avoid the blast. Bones weren¡¯t supposed to bend like that. However he managed it, the golden blast brushed past Sloan¡¯s chest with a fraction of an inch to spare.

    Sloan turned his twisting dodge into a pivot that brought the edge of his burning sword across the neck of a griffin. The construct¡¯s head fell away and vanished, though that accomplished nothing beyond removing one of the beaks Sloan had to dodge.

    When the bandit turned his attention to the more-intact griffin Damien sent a surge of power into the damaged construct.

    Ten blades of energy sprang from its severed neck to plunge at Sloan.

    He dodged and deflected, but couldn¡¯t avoid them all. Two swords scored deep slashes on his back and chest. Dark fire dripped from the wounds. The injured bandit gasped for breath. His sword wavered.

    The griffins lunged. With a final effort Sloan cut them in half with a single stroke of his corrupt blade. Three quarters of the way through the second griffin, the steel shattered. Sloan collapsed under the dissolving beasts.

    Damien eased over to the dying bandit, cautious of any potential deception. When he stood over the unmoving bandit it became clear Sloan had nothing left. Thick, black blood covered him from his hairline to his waist. He stared up at Damien.

    ¡°I lost.¡± Sloan coughed up blood and spat to one side.

    Damien nodded. ¡°You put up a good fight.¡±

    The bandit laughed, his voice hoarse and bitter. ¡°Not good enough. My master promised the demon fire would defeat any opponent.¡±

    ¡°Did he tell you it would burn away your life as well?¡±

    ¡°So what. Wining is all that matters. If you¡¯re going to die, better to send your enemies to hell before you.¡±

    Damien shook his head. It isn¡¯t winning if everyone died. ¡°Where¡¯s Marris?¡±

    ¡°Dead. I gutted the pig and left him on the side of the path. He was slowing us down.¡±

    So much corrupt energy swirled around Sloan¡¯s head Damien couldn¡¯t tell if he was lying or not. The part about slowing them down was certainly true.

    ¡°Finish me, boy. At least allow me the dignity of dying by the hand of my enemy rather than being consumed by these black flames.¡±

    Damien raised a hand and drew deeply from his rapidly refilling core. He didn¡¯t do it for the dignity of the fallen bandit or anything else so ridiculous. The corruption needed to be cleansed to eliminate the possibility of Sloan rising again as some undead horror that might threaten the area.

    Golden flames roared from the air in front of Damien¡¯s palm. Sloan¡¯s body disintegrated in an instant and his shattered sword followed a few seconds later. Damien incinerated everything in the vicinity of Sloan¡¯s body then hunted down every drop of black blood on the ground and burned those away too.

    He didn¡¯t stop until every trace of corruption was gone. Exhausted, but nowhere near finished, Damien turned his gaze southeast.

 2.41

    Damien allowed himself an hour¡¯s rest after the battle with Sloan. He wished he¡¯d taken the time to bring his writing supplies so he could let his master know what had happened. He settled for tearing a relatively clean strip of cloth out of one of the dead bandits¡¯ tunics. He conjured a pen and dipped it in the corpse¡¯s fresh blood. A gruesome way to write, but Damien had limited options. He sent the message on its way and stood up.

    Most of his power had returned and he figured the rest would regenerate during the short flight south. He leapt in the air and moved along at a modest pace. Below him the hardwood forest gradually gave way to patchy, twisted evergreens. Soon enough the vegetation went away altogether, save for the occasional clump of scraggly grass. Hot, dry wind struck his face.

    The badlands spread out before him in shades of brown, gray, and dull orange. Towering mesas dotted the otherwise featureless desert. One of them must house the bandits¡¯ fortress. Damien assumed from the directions the dead bandit had provided that the first mesa he came to flying southeast would be the target.

    He wrapped himself in invisibility and flew toward the stone tower. The trip only took five minutes and he soon found himself hovering fifty feet off the ground facing a massive wood-and-iron double door. A well-worn path led up to the gates. It looked like they received regular visitors.

    Higher up on the rock face narrow slits looked out over the approach. Damien peeked inside and found every third one had a lookout. They all seemed alert and their bows well oiled and in good condition. These men resembled real soldiers rather than scruffy bandits.

    Damien landed a short distance away behind some boulders and wracked his brain trying to think how he could get the women and children out in one piece. He could blast the place to pieces easily enough, but at the first sign of trouble the hostages would be killed. That wouldn¡¯t do at all.

    A little ways to his left, movement caught Damien¡¯s eye. A narrow head covered in tan fur popped up out of a hole, looked around, and vanished again. A second later the little guy popped up from another hole twenty feet from the first. Damien grinned. The prisoners were underground. A tunnel would be the perfect way to slip them out.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    He tipped an invisible salute to the critter that inspired him and flew away. Damien would need a hidden place to dig. The terrain was so open the lookouts would notice at once if he just started flinging dirt around. He circled the mesa, hoping to spot something not too far from the fortress. On the back side a clump of trees grew maybe a mile away. That could work.

    Damien slipped through the palm fronds and landed beside a small pit filled with water. He scanned it and found the water pure. There was probably an aquifer deep underground that bubbled up in this little oasis. The bandits must have tapped it as well. They couldn¡¯t survive out here without a good source of water.

    Now that he had a starting point Damien needed to find out exactly where the prisoners were. It¡¯d be a hell of a thing to discover he tunneled into a storage room instead of the dungeon. He sat with his back to a palm tree, conjured a spy bug, and connected it to a viewing rectangle.

    When he was satisfied with the link Damien sent the spy buzzing toward the fortress. The tiny wasp flew through an unwatched arrow slit and flitted down a long, empty corridor. He needed to find stairs. The corridor ended at an intersection and Damien guided the bug left, deeper into the fortress.

    Halfway down the hall he reached a loose-fitting door. The bug crawled underneath and went down a set of steps to a massive open chamber filled with benches and tables. There had to be enough seats for five hundred people. At the far end of the chamber a pair of guards stood at attention beside a closed door.

    That looked promising. The bug slipped through a gap in the frame and flew down another set of stairs. At the bottom was a circular depression filled with water. Now he was getting somewhere. This had to be the bottom floor. Now where was the dungeon?

    Two archways led out of the well chamber. Damien had good luck with left before so he tried it again. The spy bug flew into a chamber filled with sacks, crates, and joints of meat hanging from the ceiling. A pantry, great. So much for lucky left.

    A short ways through the opposite arch was a locked door with a small barred window. That was more like it. Wherever there were bars the dungeon couldn¡¯t be far off. The bug flew through the bars into a hall with cages on either side. Filthy, gaunt women and children filled the cells. Once-fine clothes were torn and caked with dirt. The women held on to the little ones, trying to offer what comfort they could.

    Four men sat around a rickety table, passing a bottle and playing cards. This must be where they stuck the lazy guards. Lucky for Damien, less lucky for the guards.

    The spy flew to a bare section of wall and fused with it, changing color to blend in. Now Damien had a target, he just needed to hit it.

 2.42

    Damien drew a quarter of his power and conjured a digger. Nothing fancy, a crude body with massive arms ending in long claws. The construct burrowed down at an angle, flinging dirt behind it as it went. Once it dug a ways down, golden buckets formed to drag the dirt out of the tunnel followed by regular arches for support. Damien frowned as his constructs worked. This was taking a lot more power than he expected.

    When the digger reached a depth Damien sensed was even with his marker he sent it straight toward the fortress. His constructs worked tirelessly, scraping away rock and dirt and spreading it out behind him. Foot by foot, hour by hour the tunnel grew, until sixteen hours later the digger reached solid rock.

    Damien touched the stone and sensed his marker on the other side. By some miracle he¡¯d ended up exactly where he wanted to be. He reabsorbed the digger and buckets and settled in to sleep.

    Damien had been awake for thirty-six hours straight and used up a good portion of his soul force. Five hours of sleep would clear his foggy head and regenerate his lost power. Though he was eager to free the prisoners as soon as possible, rushing into it in his condition would most likely end with all of them getting killed.

    A hint of sunlight glinted at the far end of his tunnel when he woke. His core had fully regenerated and all he lacked was a hot breakfast to be at his peak. Not feeling optimistic about a hot meal Damien reconnected with his spy bug and had it shift back into insect shape.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    A different set of guards appeared on the viewing rectangle. They sat at the table eating bowls of heaven only knew what. Damien pointed at the wall and used a lance of golden energy to slice a disk out of the stone. He pushed it in and the instant the guards came into view spears of light pierced them with barely a sound.

    Damien strode through the opening into the dungeon. The stink almost knocked him over. Women crowded the bars of the cells. He held a finger to his lips and they obliged him by staying silent.

    Two slices opened the locked cells. Damien motioned them out and toward the tunnel. Some walked, others limped, and two of the kids had to be carried out. For his part Damien watched the door to the dungeon and eased over to the table.

    Up close the contents of the bowls turned out to be sausage gravy. Damien conjured a spoon and devoured the contents of two bowls before the last prisoner entered the tunnel. He followed along behind and ten minutes later everyone stood in the oasis taking turns drinking from the well.

    An older woman with sunken cheeks, dark, matted hair, and haunted eyes approached him. ¡°You¡¯re a kingdom sorcerer.¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. Whose wife are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Baroness Trasker. May I assume my husband sent you?¡±

    ¡°No, ma¡¯am. The king sent me to deal with what he assumed were traitorous barons.¡± The energy from the tunnel supports ran out, causing it to collapse. Damien winced at the noise. ¡°I only learned your location and situation a day ago. I assumed rescuing you would end the traitorous baron situation. Rescued hostages are a much better result than executed nobles.¡±

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s blessing on you, boy. I don¡¯t know how much longer we would have lasted in that pit.¡±

    ¡°My pleasure, ma¡¯am. When everyone¡¯s had a drink I¡¯ll fly us out of here.¡±

 2.43

    Exhausted, sunburned, drenched in sweat, Baron Marris clung to the back of his trembling black gelding. The horse was on its last legs, but the fortress was in sight, close enough that he could make out the heavy, closed gate. The beast only had to last a little longer.

    Yesterday¡ªwas it yesterday or the day before? Marris had lost track of time. Some time ago at any rate, Sloan had told him to ride ahead. The bandit leader said he¡¯d stay behind, deal with the boy sorcerer, and catch up. Marris had seen nothing of the other man since.

    Who would have guessed a sixteen-year-old brat and that skinny bitch of a diplomat could have so completely ruined his plans? He¡¯d sacrificed everything to see the warlock¡¯s plans through. Not that his shrew of a wife and the two screaming brats were a huge loss, nevertheless he expected to get something for their lives. Right now he¡¯d take a cold pitcher of wine and a rare steak.

    His mount stopped and shuddered. Marris freed his foot from the stirrup and fell off its back just before the beast collapsed. He squinted into the predawn gloom. Maybe a quarter mile to go. The baron staggered to his feet. He could make it.

    Marris pounded on the heavy doors. The lookouts had to have seen him. They were just letting him stew for a few minutes, to show him what they thought of him. He knew a power play when he saw one. They¡¯d all learn soon enough who was the master¡¯s favorite.

    A dull boom sounded from behind the doors a moment before they creaked open, just enough for him to slip inside. Blessedly cool air washed over Marris. A pair of rough men in soiled leathers with swords strapped to their backs pushed the doors closed and replaced the heavy bar.

    Marris snapped his fingers. ¡°Food and drink, now.¡±

    The men shared a look and led him deeper into the bleak fortress. The baron trudged along behind them, head hanging, sweat pouring off his back. He wouldn¡¯t give the bandits the satisfaction of collapsing. With grim determination Marris put one foot in front of the other until at last they reached the massive dining hall. Twenty people sat huddled together, heads down as they ate whatever passed for food in this place.

    Marris turned to his guides. ¡°Food. Drink. Now.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    He plopped down on the nearest bench and sighed. The hard wood felt as fine as the softest chair in his castle. The two bandits shuffled toward the kitchen to fetch his meal. Not the most enthusiastic servants, but under the circumstances he¡¯d take it. Maris laid his head on the table and shut his eyes.

    A minute later a bowl of some white glop, a pair of biscuits and a chipped ceramic cup of water clattered on the table in front of him. He looked at his servant and raised an eyebrow. ¡°What is this rubbish and where is your partner?¡±

    ¡°Breakfast. Mick went to fetch the master.¡± So saying the unnamed bandit left him to his unappetizing meal.

    Marris grimaced, but his empty stomach overruled his squeamishness. He dunked the biscuit in whatever the gravy was and popped it in his mouth. Surprised and pleased to find the mess edible Marris tucked in with a will. He¡¯d nearly finished emptying the bowl and was considering who he could send for seconds when the clank of a heavy tread drew his attention.

    A massive figure in black armor strode toward him, a horned skull engraved on his breastplate, the hilt of a sword jutting up by his shoulder. Marris¡¯s lip curled. The warlock¡¯s flunky, terrific. He¡¯d hoped to find the master himself in residence, but wasn¡¯t shocked that he was absent. The armored figure removed his demonic helm revealing the surprisingly human face underneath.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± the flunky asked.

    ¡°Watch your tone or the master will hear of it.¡±

    The knight glowered down at Marris. ¡°If you don¡¯t have a good reason for abandoning your task, the master will let me peel the skin from your body to make a new pair of gloves. Now speak!¡±

    ¡°Our business with the barons has failed. The king¡¯s agents forced us to flee and I assume killed all the others.¡±

    ¡°Someone killed Sloan?¡±

    ¡°I assume so since he never caught up to me. The point is I can¡¯t return to the kingdom now. I¡¯ll be assuming command here. You¡¯re welcome to serve as my subordinate.¡±

    A thump followed by a vibration that ran through the floor cut short any reply the flunky might have made. He mashed his helm back over his head and stalked toward the rear exit. Curious, Marris heaved his bulk up and followed along behind.

    They reached the dungeon and Marris stared at the empty cells. All the prisoners had vanished. Four dead guards lay on the floor and piles of dirt covered the stone near the back wall. ¡°What happened?¡±

    The flunky rounded on him. ¡°Someone dug a tunnel into the dungeon and freed my prisoners. Any idea who might have done that?¡±

    Marris thought of the boy sorcerer. ¡°I have a fair idea. One of the king¡¯s agents was a sorcerer. He pursued us and I suspect defeated Sloan and the others. Someone must have talked.¡±

    The flunky roared at the ceiling, pulled his sword, and rammed it through Marris¡¯s stomach. Pain became his whole world.

    ¡°If you can¡¯t return to the kingdom, what good are you?¡±

    The last thing Marris saw was a black boot descending toward his face.

 2.44

    Marris¡¯s skull crunched most satisfyingly under Mikhail¡¯s boot heel. Fat, useless worm. The master had made a grave error entrusting the incompetent baron with even the tiniest portion of this great task. Mikhail, no, Sir Darkness, had rectified that error.

    Sir Darkness wiped the brains off his boot and stalked back up the stairs. Perhaps it would be best not to mention that the master had made an error in judgment with the baron. Sometimes the great warlock could be touchy about such comments. If he asked, Sir Darkness would simply say the baron had outlived his usefulness. Perhaps the escape of the prisoners could be pinned on him as well. The dead couldn¡¯t defend themselves after all.

    At the top of the steps one of his minions waited, head bowed, showing the proper respect. ¡°My lord, what is the trouble?¡±

    ¡°The prisoners have escaped.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll organize search teams at once.¡±

    ¡°No! I will deal with the prisoners and whoever took them myself. Keep everyone inside. It will be safer.¡±Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°As you command, my lord.¡±

    The Black Knight smiled behind his mask. That was the way he should be spoken to at all times. If his family had shown him such respect they might still be alive. But probably not. His father at least had to die in order for Sir Darkness to be born and rise to his current height. The rest were nothing but anchors holding him down. Better to cut them away so he could soar.

    He reached the stables at the rear of the fortress. Horses snorted and whinnied in fear at his approach. Stupid beasts. Did they not realize what an honor it was to be chosen as the mount of Sir Darkness?

    He dragged the first horse he came to out of its stall. The beast tried to resist, but it was no match for the strength granted him by his armor.

    When they reached the open center of the stable Sir Darkness poured corruption into the terrified horse. Its brown hair turned black and its eyes became flaming pits. The horse stopped fighting as the demonic power took control of it, bending the animal to his will and shaping it into an appropriate mount for Sir Darkness.

    When the process was finished he grabbed a handful of its mane and swung up onto the horse¡¯s back. At the far end of the stables a hidden door let them out into the desert. The moment they left the fortress his mount leapt into the air.

    Mikhail sensed many life forces a short distance away at one of the oases that dotted the badlands. His prisoners were there. He would either reclaim them or send their souls to hell.

 2.45

    Damien watched as the Baroness Trasker took her turn drinking from the little well. Somehow the woman managed to make drinking out of her cupped hands look dignified. When she straightened he asked, ¡°Everyone ready?¡±

    They all indicated they were.

    ¡°Then gather around.¡±

    The women and kids moved to join him. Some of the little ones had fallen asleep and their mothers carried them. He couldn¡¯t remember ever seeing such a bedraggled collection of people in his life.

    A chill went through him and Damien looked up. A dark figure was riding across the sky on the back of a horse so dark it appeared to absorb the light. He narrowed his eyes and focused on the imposing figure. The horse was a seething mass of demonic energy, but nothing compared to the armor. A black cable of dark energy connected the rider to his mount.

    Damien had read about men like him. They were called Black Knights. One step removed from actual warlocks, a Black Knight was a warrior who had formed a contract with a demon. The demon provided power to the knight. In exchange, at the moment of his death, the demon would consume the knight¡¯s soul thus increasing the demon¡¯s own power. His demon was bound to the ornate armor, much as Lizzy was bound to his father¡¯s sword.

    Was this the same Black Knight the archmage mentioned in her account of Jen¡¯s adventure in Port Valcane? He hoped so. One of the monsters was bad enough.

    Some of the children started whimpering and their mothers tried to calm them. Success seemed unlikely. The kids were feeling the effects of the Black Knight¡¯s corrupt aura.

    ¡°What is that thing?¡± the Baroness Trasker asked, disgust dripping from her voice. ¡°That creature has been our captor these many weeks. Since the other one disappeared.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s trouble. Keep everyone together. It¡¯ll be easier for me to protect you that way.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t we make an easier target, gathered all in one place?¡±

    Damien really didn¡¯t want to argue with the woman, but the baroness wasn¡¯t used to taking orders. ¡°Together or spread out, without my shield he¡¯ll kill you all in a second. Please, keep everyone together.¡±

    She pressed her lips in a thin line.

    Please don¡¯t argue.

    The Black Knight was getting closer by the second.

    Please, please, don¡¯t argue.

    ¡°Very well, young man.¡±

    Thank heaven.

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep everyone together while you deal with that, I hesitate to call him a man, that thing.¡±

    The knight drew power from his armor and a ball of hellfire came screaming toward the oasis. Damien conjured a giant hand and swatted it aside.

    The ball exploded a safe distance away. Wind mixed with corruption blew through the oasis. The children started crying and several of the women threw up. The Baroness Trasker never faltered. She guided the last two people into a tight group.

    Damien conjured an invisible shield over them, investing a quarter of his power to be sure they¡¯d stay safe. He hated going into battle with such a disadvantage, but anything less would leave the ladies and their little ones exposed.

    He shot into the air and met the monstrous man a hundred yards from the oasis. Anxious to confirm his identity Damien asked, ¡°Mikhail Santen?¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    A hollow snarl came from inside the helm. ¡°Don¡¯t call me that. Mikhail died when he sacrificed his father to gain the power of a demon. Sir Darkness was born in that moment.¡±

    ¡°Sir Darkness? What a stupid name. Couldn¡¯t you have come up with something a little less idiotic?¡±

    Mikhail drew his sword and leveled it at Damien. He drew power from the demon and sent a stream of fire roaring toward Damien.

    Damien dodged easily enough, but like Sloan¡¯s attack earlier the fire twisted and pursued him.

    This time Damien was ready. He spun away, conjured a golden sword, and severed the stream of fire from the demon¡¯s power. The hellfire behind him flared and vanished.

    It worked, excellent. He fired a pair of golden blasts at Mikhail¡¯s chest.

    The Black Knight didn¡¯t bother trying to dodge or deflect. The blasts hit his breastplate and fizzled. ¡°Is that the best you can do?¡±

    Damien frowned. He hadn¡¯t put much power into the blast, but he¡¯d hoped to at least dent the armor.

    Mikhail leveled the sword again. This time he drew a huge amount of demonic energy. ¡°Burn away to nothing, worm.¡±

    A river of hellfire poured from the tip of Mikhail¡¯s sword. More power than the demon Damien killed had possessed in its whole body screamed toward him.

    Damien drew deep from his core and raised a shield. He angled it to deflect the blast rather than take it full on.

    Black fire hit golden shield. Cracks spread all over in his construct as the corrupt power ate away at it. Damien drew more power and repaired the damage.

    Still the river of flames came on, no end in sight.

    Damien poured more power into his shield, his vast reserve of soul force draining in a hurry. He had to hold on. If he failed, twenty-four women and children would stand defenseless before this monster of a man.

    When only a small fraction of his power remained, the river dried up. Damien reabsorbed the meager energy remaining in his shield. Before him Mikhail¡¯s sword trembled in his hand. He¡¯d used the bulk of his power with that attack.

    Maybe Damien had a chance.

    ¡°Impossible!¡± Mikhail screamed in nearly inarticulate rage. ¡°That should have reduced a worm like you to nothing.¡±

    Damien shrugged and began conjuring a pair of invisible swords behind Mikhail. If he could keep the idiot merchant distracted maybe he could take him by surprise. ¡°It was an impressive attack from a halfwit greengrocer. I didn¡¯t think you could manage it.¡±

    ¡°Greengrocer!¡± Mikhail shrieked.

    That hit a nerve.

    ¡°I am Sir Darkness, right hand to the mightiest warlock in the land, Connor Blackman.¡±

    Blackman! This fool worked for the missing sorcerer? That must be who opened the hell gate in Port Valcane and gave Mikhail his demon armor. He probably put the hellfire wards in the bandits¡¯ heads too. No way this clown had the skill to do such fine conjuring.

    Damien needed to end this and report back. The archmage had to know Connor Blackman had become a warlock and was behind the attack on the barons.

    Damien¡¯s invisible swords struck Mikhail in the back. Armor screamed in protest as the soul force blades cut it open.

    Black fire burst from the rent in Mikhail¡¯s armor, shattering Damien¡¯s swords before they could pierce flesh.

    The demon horse¡¯s mouth hung open and with Damien¡¯s enhanced sight it was clear the idiot had drained the beast almost dry. If Mikhail had possessed a fraction of Sloan¡¯s skill combined with the demon¡¯s raw power¡­ Best not to think about it.

    ¡°You¡¯ve proven a formidable opponent.¡± Mikhail turned his gaze to the former prisoners huddling under his shield. ¡°I wonder if the other worms will prove as durable.¡±

    Damien raced for the ground at full speed. Hellfire spewed from Mikhail¡¯s sword. A stream of soul force shot from Damien¡¯s hand, striking and reinforcing his barrier.

    Black flames hit a moment later. Palm trees withered and turned to ash. The dirt blackened as the dark flames consumed every shred of life in them.

    When the onslaught ended, his shield, cracked and wavering, still stood. The people inside remained unharmed.

    Damien needed to end this. Now.

    He absorbed and reshaped the shield into a focused blast, augmenting it with most of his remaining power. The golden lightning bolt streaked up at Mikhail.

    It struck the side of the demon horse¡¯s head, burning off an ear and exposing its skull. An instant later it struck Mikhail in the shoulder. His armor gave way before the assault.

    Mikhail roared in pain.

    An armor-covered left arm came crashing to earth.

    Damien crafted the last of his power into a crackling javelin and held it ready to throw.

    The Black Knight snarled at him. ¡°This is your lucky day, worm. We¡¯ll finish our battle another time.¡±

    Mikhail kicked the demon horse in the ribs and flew north, back into the kingdom. Damien waited until he was well out of sight before he collapsed to his knees. The javelin vanished when he absorbed the energy to refill a tiny portion of his depleted core.

    As first missions went this one was turning out to be a doozie.

    A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. Damien looked up into the concerned eyes of the Baroness Trasker.

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± she asked.

    Damien sighed. He needed to rest and burn away the corrupted arm and armor Mikhail left behind before he flew the baronesses and their children home. ¡°Sure. Just give me a few minutes to catch my breath and I¡¯ll get you people out of here.¡±

 2.46

    Lane squinted into the bright noon sky. On either side of her the nine barons did the same. Five minutes ago one of the guards, a loyal one, they¡¯d left on watch had come running into the dining hall shouting about something in the sky flying their way from out of the badlands. Everyone had rushed into the courtyard then up on the southern wall. Either Damien was returning or he¡¯d failed and the Bandit King was coming to exact his revenge for the barons¡¯ failure to live up to their agreement.

    When the object got close enough Lane recognized it as a golden sphere. It had to be Damien. A warlock¡¯s power would be darker. Some of the tension went out of her. He¡¯d survived. When one day passed, then another, she¡¯d feared the worst for her young bodyguard.

    The sphere passed over the wall and Lane realized it was bigger than she¡¯d thought. It settled in the courtyard and vanished. Dirty women and children in torn clothes surrounded a slumped-over Damien. She joined the barons as they rushed down the stairs to seek out wives and children. Most of the normally stoic men wept openly as they gathered loved ones in their arms.

    Damien straightened, caught her eye, and grinned. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes. An ugly red burn decorated his cheek, but other than that he looked intact.

    ¡°The barons give you any trouble?¡± Damien asked.

    Lane choked back a sob. He was worried about her. This young man she hardly knew, who¡¯d just gone through hell if his face could be believed. She hugged him and he patted her back.

    After a moment she let him go. ¡°They behaved like gentlemen. Once their minders fled they had no more reason to be hostile. They threw the assassins, along with the servant in your wardrobe, in the dungeon before the bindings wore off. I think they were waiting to see if you succeeded in rescuing their families before they hung all four.¡±

    Damien nodded, seeming neither shocked nor surprised at the self-serving ploy. ¡°What about their complaints against the kingdom?¡±

    ¡°They were pretexts to do what the Bandit King wanted. We had a meeting after your barrier vanished and they explained everything. With their families returned I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll have any more trouble.¡±

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.¡°I hope you¡¯re right, but the king will have to make some changes down here all the same. The barons are too vulnerable to blackmail. I doubt His Majesty will leave them in charge of border security after this debacle.¡±

    Lane saw his point, but feared any drastic change would raise the prickly nobles¡¯ hackles. She wanted to ask what he thought the king would do, but the barons and their families had turned their attention to Damien. Everyone wanted to shake his hand and several of the wives and children hugged him with tears in their eyes.

    Damien bore it all with a disconcerted look that made Lane smile. When the last of the hugs had been distributed Baron Trasker and his wife moved to the fore. As the oldest of the barons he often seemed to take the lead. Did that annoy the others or had they gotten used to it?

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how we can thank you for saving our families. It seems a miracle you returned everyone alive. Anything within our power to grant you, just ask.¡±

    ¡°Which one of you is in charge of Allentown?¡± Damien asked.

    That seemed to surprise the barons as much as it did Lane. Baron Kannon moved to stand beside Trasker. ¡°Allentown is within my lands. Is there some problem?¡±

    ¡°The Lord Mayor is corrupt and I intend to remove him on my way back to the capital. I suggest you think of a replacement, one less susceptible to bribes and underage girls.¡±

    Kannon stiffened at Damien¡¯s cold tone. Lane would have to give him lessons in diplomacy on the trip home.

    ¡°Is the Lord Mayor¡¯s removal the reward you desire for saving our families? He¡¯s my cousin and it will be difficult to convince him to renounce his position, but I can manage it.¡±

    Damien¡¯s expression turned hard. ¡°I require no reward for doing my duty, nor do I require your assistance or permission to remove the Lord Mayor. Eliminating corrupt officials is one of the responsibilities of a kingdom sorcerer. If I find the accusations against him true his head will decorate a flag pole at his residence before dark tonight.¡±

    Baron Kannon stalked off, muttering to himself. Lane debated going over to try and soothe him, but decided it wasn¡¯t worth the effort. If he knew about his cousin¡¯s actions he was lucky Damien decided to only punish the mayor himself.

    ¡°Are you ready?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°What about horses? The bandits stole or drove off every mount in the stable.¡±

    He smiled at that. ¡°I think it¡¯s safe to assume everyone knows I¡¯m a sorcerer. How about I just fly us home?¡±

    Lane looked away. She¡¯d never been comfortable trusting a sorcerer to keep her from falling to earth. It seemed like such a precarious, unnatural thing, to fly without wings.

    When she thought about flying with Damien she felt no doubts about his ability to keep her safe. If she were honest with herself the only real reason she hesitated was because the trip would only take two days and then they¡¯d be home and go their separate ways. She found the idea left a hollow feeling in her chest.

    ¡°Flying would be okay, I guess. I started packing yesterday, more to keep busy than anything.¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°Then let¡¯s finish packing and get out of here.¡±

 2.47

    Damien stuffed his last tunic in his rucksack and slung his sword over his shoulder. Drawers opened and closed on Lane¡¯s side. It didn¡¯t surprise him that he finished first; Lane had three times as much stuff as him.

    Someone knocked on his door. Damien was surprised to find Baroness Trasker on the other side. She¡¯d washed up and found some clean clothes. She wasn¡¯t a beautiful woman. The lines of her face, the way she carried herself, everything was too harsh.

    Damien bowed. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡±

    ¡°Before you leave I wanted to thank you once more for what you did, both on my own behalf and for the others. Are you certain there¡¯s nothing we can do to reward you for your heroic actions?¡±

    ¡°There is one thing, Baroness. You and the other ladies can keep an eye on your husbands. Be their conscience, keep them on the proper path as good kingdom men. I don¡¯t want the king to have to send me back here looking for traitors. Your husbands love you. I could see it in their reactions when you got back safe. Keep them on the right path and I¡¯ll consider that reward enough.¡±

    The baroness pursed her lips. ¡°You don¡¯t trust them?¡±

    ¡°The border¡¯s a long ways from the capital. They don¡¯t have anyone keeping an eye on them, though that may change after this incident. The temptation to cheat will always be there. Look at Marris. It won¡¯t end any better for the others if they make a similar decision.¡±

    ¡°Rest assured all the ladies watch over their husbands, though Baroness Kannon mainly watches to make sure he doesn¡¯t pester the female servants too much. There¡¯s nothing else?¡±

    ¡°I am curious about something. I saw no sign of Marris¡¯s family.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re dead. The pig actually bragged about it. He liked to say if we didn¡¯t behave we¡¯d join them soon enough.¡± The baroness nodded and glided away down the hall, a slight limp the only sign of injury from her time in captivity.

    Damien shut the hall door and frowned, trying to remember exactly what Marris had said when they spoke in his room. The baron had never actually said his family was alive. He¡¯d said in one piece and like the inexperienced fool he was Damien assumed the rest. He wouldn¡¯t make that mistake again.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Lane opened the door connecting their rooms, three stuffed bags sitting on the floor behind her. ¡°I thought I heard voices.¡±

    ¡°Baroness Trasker stopped by to offer me one more bribe. I don¡¯t know what she hopes to accomplish beyond getting her hooks into me.¡±

    ¡°Maybe she¡¯s genuinely grateful.¡±

    Damien raised an eyebrow at that. Nobles were seldom genuine and even less often grateful.

    Lane shrugged and smiled. ¡°I¡¯m sure she had a good reason.¡±

    ¡°On that, at least, we¡¯re in agreement.¡± Damien conjured a box around her luggage and they set out for the courtyard. They passed a pair of servants who both curtsied. The barons and their families made no appearance which was fine with Damien. He¡¯d probably offended them with his little speech to Kannon.

    ¡°Not much of a send off,¡± Lane said.

    ¡°Disappointed?¡±

    ¡°Not especially. How will we be traveling?¡±

    ¡°Do you have a preference? I remember you mentioning a gold dragon.¡±

    She blushed a little at that. ¡°I was being sarcastic. Perhaps something a little less ostentations.¡±

    Damien conjured a black horse with a double saddle. ¡°How¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°Much better.¡±

    Damien climbed up into the front saddle and reached back to help Lane up behind him. Remembering his first flight with Master Shen, Damien conjured a belt around Lane¡¯s waist to hold her in place. ¡°Ready?¡±

    ¡°Ready.¡±

    The horse galloped into the air, Lane¡¯s luggage box right behind. She yelped and grabbed Damien around his chest. Damien grinned, but kept his face turned away so she wouldn¡¯t see.

    They flew for a minute or two before she finally let go. Behind him Lane gasped.

    ¡°It¡¯s amazing. I¡¯ve never seen the world from this high before.¡±

    Surprised, Damien asked, ¡°Didn¡¯t you ever fly with your mother?¡±

    ¡°She offered to take me, but I wouldn¡¯t go. I was angry, a lot, when I was younger.¡±

    ¡°So you naturally became a diplomat.¡±

    ¡°The position got me away from sorcerers and the capital which helped with the anger. When we get back I need to talk to Mom, tell her I¡¯m sorry for being so difficult.¡±

    Damien reached back and patted her knee. ¡°I don¡¯t know your mother very well yet, but she was adamant that I keep you safe. Difficult or not, I think she loves you very much.¡±

    Behind him Lane sniffed and a moment later her head pressed against his back. Damien suspected when they reached the capital many hugs and tears would be shared. He envied Lane the chance to get closer to her mother. He wished he had a similar chance with his father. Maybe if he tried harder to talk to Dad they could find some way to set aside the anger of the past few years.

    A twenty-minute flight brought them to Allentown. Damien brought the conjured mount down a little ways out of town and transformed the box carrying their luggage into a mule. Now if anyone saw them they¡¯d look like regular travelers, more or less.

    ¡°What now?¡± Lane asked.

    Damien guided the construct toward the town gates. ¡°Now I deal with the Lord Mayor, we head over to the Golden Stag for twelve hours¡¯ sleep, and in the morning we fly home.¡±

 2.48

    Damien and Lane walked through the afternoon shadows up the long path to the front door of the Lord Mayor¡¯s residence. He¡¯d suggested Lane remain at the inn while he handled the mayor, but she insisted on joining him. Just to be safe he wrapped her in an invisible shield. Damien didn¡¯t expect any real trouble, but after everything they¡¯d been through these last eleven weeks he¡¯d hate for anything to happen to her now that they¡¯d almost reached the end.

    A pair of guards holding spears stood beside the pale wood doors. They looked young, older than Damien, but still young. They probably received the assignment straight out of training. They crossed their spears to bar his way. ¡°The Lord Mayor isn¡¯t seeing anyone else today,¡± the older guard said. ¡°You¡¯ll have to come back tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here to remove the mayor from office.¡± Damien drew on his soul force and caused his shield to crackle. ¡°I know his crimes. Stand aside or be judged with him.¡±

    ¡°Please, sir, we have sisters. If we let you through we lose his protection. They may be taken. The Lord Mayor is a man of great appetites.¡±

    Damien crossed his arms and scowled. ¡°So you serve this pig to protect your own families while others less fortunate have their daughters kidnapped and given over to his tender mercies. You dare call yourselves men of the kingdom? I should kill you both for your cowardice. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.¡±

    Spears clattered to the ground and the guards fled back down the path. How had they even made it through training? Damien didn¡¯t know what sort of training the regular army required of its cadets, but if those two were representative they needed to improve their standards.

    ¡°Would you have killed them if they didn¡¯t run?¡± Lane asked.

    ¡°Of course not. They were only doing what they believed necessary to protect their families. Still, if they¡¯d had the courage to run a spear through the mayor¡¯s guts when he came out this door some morning it would have saved a lot of people a great deal of trouble. I guess that¡¯s why the crown keeps people like me around.¡±

    Damien yanked the heavy iron door handle. It was barred from the inside. A golden blade made short work of that. The bar clattered to the floor and the doors swung open. Inside waited a grand foyer. Paintings, all of them erotic and explicit, decorated the walls and a pair of nude statues stood beside a sweeping staircase leading to the second floor. No guards waited inside the door. Either the mayor trusted the two outside combined with the bar to ensure his privacy or the guards were stationed elsewhere.

    Damien glanced at Lane who was gaping at the artwork. ¡°If you were a pig with grotesque appetites where would you be late in the afternoon?¡±

    At the same moment they both said, ¡°Bedroom.¡±

    Damien didn¡¯t know the layout of the place, but he figured the bedroom would be above. They went upstairs. The halls were lined with red carpet and more paintings like the ones below decorated the walls. If anything the ones on the second floor were more explicit and violent than the ones downstairs.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to be sick.¡± Lane stared at a painting of two little girls tied up, naked, getting spanked by masked men.

    ¡°Try not to look at them.¡±

    At the end of the hall a muffled thump sounded above them followed by a soft sob. Damien pointed at the ceiling and a cutting beam shot out. He sliced a disk out of the ceiling and let it fall to the floor. Staring down at them, his mouth partway open, was a fat, naked man with a scruff of gray hair around the base of his skull. He held a small, thin knife in his hand.

    Damien and Lane flew up into a bedroom-cum-torture chamber. One girl, she looked about Karrie¡¯s age, was tied to some sort of restraining device, her back covered in fresh welts, Damien guessed from the cat o¡¯ nine tails on the floor beside her. A second girl, younger yet, lay bound on the bed. She bled from three shallow cuts on her bare stomach.

    ¡°Guards!¡± the naked man bellowed.

    The door burst open and four men with drawn swords rushed through. Fifty golden lances pierced the guards from every conceivable direction. Lane went to the bleeding girl and tore strips out of the bedding to make bandages.

    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± the fat man asked. ¡°Do you know who I am?¡±

    ¡°You are a dead man,¡± Damien said. ¡°The only question I have is: are you the Lord Mayor?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± The fat man drew himself up to his less-than-impressive height. ¡°Baron Kannon is my cousin and when he hears of this outrage he¡¯ll have your head.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve already informed him of your removal and advised him to find a replacement who¡¯s less corrupt.¡±

    The mayor lunged at Damien, striking him with the little knife. The blade bent in half when it struck Damien¡¯s shield. The mayor whimpered and held up the ruined weapon. ¡°Please. I have gold, jewels. Please, take anything, everything, just let me go.¡±

    A golden band formed around the mayor¡¯s neck and Damien squeezed, choking off his pleas. Damien drew power, maybe a little too much power, and blasted the wall. It exploded out, reduced to little more than splinters. Damien hurled the mayor out the hole with way more force than necessary. His body exploded when it hit the ground.

    Damien turned away from the hole and found Lane had bound the girl¡¯s wounds and dressed her in a thin shift. ¡°Is she okay?¡±

    ¡°Physically she¡¯ll be fine. The cuts weren¡¯t deep.¡± Lane stroked the trembling girl¡¯s hair. ¡°Mentally I have no idea.¡±

    Damien went over to the second girl and cut her down. She latched on to him and cried. Damien held her and looked over her head for something he could dress her in. He spotted a dirty shift lying discarded in the corner. A tendril of soul force brought it to him and he got enough space between him and the girl to slip it over her head.

    ¡°Is he dead?¡± the girl asked.

    ¡°Yes. You¡¯re safe now.¡±

    ¡°I want to see.¡±

    Damien winced when he thought of the mess he¡¯d made out of the mayor. ¡°It isn¡¯t pretty.¡±

    ¡°Nothing about him was pretty. I want to see.¡±

    Damien guided her over to the hole in the wall. The girl stared for a long minute then spit on him. Damien couldn¡¯t help smiling. She had spirit. ¡°Are there any others?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll show you.¡±

    In the next room three more girls, all of an age with the first two, sat huddled in an iron cage. None of them wore more than a stained shift. The girl spoke to them while Damien opened the cage. Once they had all the girls free he and Lane took them home. Long after dark they returned to the inn.

    He walked with Lane to her room. They paused outside. ¡°I never imagined it would have been that bad,¡± Lane said.

    ¡°Me neither, but you know, this might be the best day I¡¯ve had in my short career. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever done anything as satisfying as helping those girls. I hope they¡¯re okay.¡±

    ¡°I think they will be, thanks to you.¡± She kissed him. ¡°Good night.¡±

    Damien touched his lips and stared at the closed door. What was that about?

 2.49

    Karrie stalked towards the royal quarters. Servants hastened to move out of her way. Damien had been gone for almost two months and she¡¯d considered and rejected half a dozen plans to convince him to agree to marry her. The problem she kept running into was none of them would work if he didn¡¯t fall in love with her and Damien had made it clear that while he did like her that was as far as it went.

    Daddy should be done with court by now and back in their rooms for his noon meal. Her only hope was to convince him to force Damien to marry her. She knew he thought Damien would be a good match for her so it shouldn¡¯t be too hard to convince him.

    Karrie pushed the door open and found her father seated at the dining room table, a plate of pasta in white sauce in front of him. He smiled when she entered.

    ¡°Hello, sweetheart. Will you join me?¡±

    She¡¯d get fat if she ate like her father, but she did sit beside him. ¡°I need to talk to you.¡±

    ¡°Of course. What¡¯s on your mind?¡±

    She couldn¡¯t think of any way to say it other than to just say it. ¡°I want you to order Damien to marry me.¡±

    He sucked in a breath along with his sip of wine. When the coughing subsided he asked, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I know you think he¡¯d be a good match for me. I spoke to him about it before he left on his mission, but he didn¡¯t seem interested. You could order him to do it, for the good of the kingdom.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve thought this through, Karrie. I have considerable power, but I can¡¯t command men¡¯s hearts. I think too much of Damien to force him into something like this, not to mention commanding someone to marry against their will is the sort of thing that could lead to a conclave.¡±

    Karrie shook her head. ¡°I hardly think the generals and high sorcerers care enough about the fate of one man to consider removing you from the throne.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Her father ran his hand through his hair. ¡°But it is the sort of capricious use of power that they watch for. If I do it once I might do it again, for something bigger. Since our ancestors went from being imperial governors of a colony to kings of an independent country we¡¯ve had a responsibility to rule for the good of all the people and not use the powers we¡¯ve been given irresponsibly. The conclave system was set up to prevent any king from becoming a tyrant.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Karrie sighed. She¡¯d learned all that from her tutors. ¡°What¡¯s the point of being king if you can¡¯t do what you want?¡±

    He smiled. ¡°The point is to be a good steward and see that you leave the kingdom stronger, safer, and happier than your predecessor. Maybe you should forget about Damien and find another boy.¡±

    Karrie ground her teeth. She didn¡¯t want another boy, she wanted Damien. If her father couldn¡¯t help her maybe her mother could. She kissed his cheek. ¡°Thanks, Daddy. Do you know where Mom is?¡±

    ¡°In her sewing room, I think. Oh, I forgot to tell you. I spoke to the archmage this morning. Damien should be home today, any time now in fact.¡±

    She brightened. If Damien was home she could start working on him again. She forgot about talking to her mother and jogged out to watch the front gate.

    Karrie found an unused guest bedroom overlooking the courtyard, dragged a chair beside the window and settled in to watch. She had a bit of good luck. Less than an hour after she sat down a black horse flew over the wall and landed in the courtyard. Damien sat in the front saddle and Lane sat behind him, her arms around his chest in a way Karrie didn¡¯t like at all.

    Damien swung down and reached back to help Lane dismount. They walked toward the castle together. Damien put his hand on her back in a far-too-familiar way. Daddy never should have sent him on a mission with Lane. The woman was too pretty and even if she didn¡¯t like sorcerers in general she seemed to like Damien well enough.

    Karrie¡¯s lip curled into a snarl and she slammed her fist on the arm of her chair. If Lane had her hooks in him, how could Karrie dig them out? Mom would know. She rushed back to their quarters. Daddy had finished his meal and returned to his duties. Karrie hurried to the back of the suite and into her mother¡¯s sewing room.

    Her mother sat in the sun, a delicate bit of needlework in her lap. ¡°Karrie?¡±

    ¡°Damien¡¯s back. I think he¡¯s fallen for Lane Thorn. They looked way too friendly walking together.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. That¡¯s a surprise. Everyone knows Lane hates sorcerers. Well, Damien is a handsome boy, so I can see where she might make an exception.¡±

    ¡°Mom!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sweetheart. I suppose you¡¯re planning to go to war with her?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to let Lane have Damien. He¡¯s mine. What do we do?¡±

    ¡°You need to make him think he¡¯s going to lose you. Jealousy can be a powerful motivator for men. It¡¯s how I convinced your father.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure Damien would feel jealous if I went with someone else.¡±

    ¡°It would have to be the right person. I made some quiet inquiries at The Tower. There are two people that might have the desired effect on Damien. His best friend John Kord and Sigurd Iceborn whom he fought a duel with his first day.¡±

    ¡°Sig¡¯s an ass, but John is handsome enough. It might not be so bad spending time with him.¡±

    ¡°Good choice. Nothing like seeing your best friend getting the attention of a girl you thought was interested in you. John is stationed with his father in the north. Perhaps we could arrange for him to come south. We could say you need a personal healer. That would give you a perfect excuse to spend time with him.¡±

    Karrie rubbed her hands together. She¡¯d make Damien so jealous his head would spin. ¡°How soon can he arrive?¡±

 2.50

    Damien sat in a conjured chair outside the archmage¡¯s office while Lane gave her report. He suspected they¡¯d have a good deal more than business to talk about so he made his seat more comfortable than usual. It was just as well his master¡¯s office was so far off the beaten path; it saved him many odd looks as he lounged in an overstuffed chair in the middle of the hall. Pleased as he was at having solved the border issue without having to kill any of the barons, Damien¡¯s mission had raised as many questions as it answered. The office door opened and Lane came out, her eyes and nose red.

    ¡°Did you have a good talk?¡± Damien stood up and absorbed his construct.

    ¡°Very good.¡± Lane hugged him and kissed his cheek. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°For showing me what a brat, and worse, hypocrite, I¡¯d been. I judged sorcerers for their power at the same time I hated being judged for my lack of power. Well, for now on I judge people as people, no more no less.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad I could help. I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll make you an even better diplomat.¡±

    ¡°More than that, it¡¯ll make me a better person. Maybe I¡¯ll see you around.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡± Damien smiled as she walked down the hall. When Lane had gone he rapped on the open door and stuck his head in. The archmage was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. ¡°Master?¡±

    ¡°Come in. Close the door.¡±

    Damien did as she said, taking his place in front of her desk, hands clasped behind his back. He felt her sound barrier fall into place.

    ¡°For heaven¡¯s sake, Damien, sit down. You don¡¯t need to stand like a man waiting for news of his execution every time you report in. Lane tells me you did good work, though she was a little vague on the details of what happened in the badlands.¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Damien settled into an empty chair, still uncomfortable sitting in the presence of his superior. ¡°I wasn¡¯t certain how much I should tell her. I figured I¡¯d let you fill her in on any details she might need.¡±

    ¡°Good decision. Why don¡¯t you just start at the beginning.¡±

    Damien did as she said. It took a good half an hour to complete his report and she never stopped him once. When he reached their arrival at the royal castle Damien said, ¡°That¡¯s what happened. Mikhail Santen escaped and I¡¯m sure many bandits still inhabit the fortress, but the families are safe, for the moment anyway.¡±

    The archmage shook her head. ¡°Connor Blackman, who would have thought. We knew that boy was trouble, but to become a warlock and threaten the kingdom¡­ I wouldn¡¯t have believed it. We need to find him, and Mikhail too.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master. The kingdom is a big place. Where should we start looking?¡±

    ¡°The Tower. Some of Connor¡¯s yearmates might have some insight into his habits. He must be in the wild lands. We could hardly miss a crimson-eyed warlock wandering around civilization.¡±

    ¡°Judging from Mikhail¡¯s armor the Cult of the Horned One is involved somehow. I wonder if Connor summoned the demon I killed and opened the hell gate Jen found.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be the least bit surprised.¡± The archmage steepled her fingers, tapping the index fingers together as she thought. ¡°In fact it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if he either took over the old cult or created a new one from scratch. On a more straight-forward note, good work dealing with the mayor of Allentown. I don¡¯t know how he operated without our notice for so long. I need to speak to Banlon about sending more sorcerers to patrol the little southern towns.¡±

    ¡°Banlon?¡± Damien didn¡¯t recognize the name.

    ¡°Sorry, High Sorcerer Banlon, Master of the South. He¡¯s too interested in his research and it takes away from his more mundane duties. I never figured out why he stood for High Sorcerer at the last gathering.¡±

    Damien had no interest in politics. ¡°What should I tell the king? I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll want me to have dinner with him now that I¡¯m back.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll give him a full report, but if he asks hold nothing back. We have no secrets from the king.¡± The archmage groaned to her feet and Damien leapt up to join her. ¡°I knew I was right to make you my agent. This mission just solidifies it. On a personal note, I don¡¯t know what happened between you and Lane, but you brought home a different person. Wherever you buried her anger I¡¯m glad to see it gone. For that gift I thank you, not as your master, but as a mother glad to see her daughter happy.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a wonderful woman and I¡¯m glad I got to spend some time with her. Is there anything else, Master?¡±

    ¡°No, take a few days, rest, relax. When you¡¯re ready come see me. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll have no shortage of missions for you.¡±

 2.51

    Mikhail hurt everywhere, but nowhere so much as his shoulder. His shoulder where an arm should have hung. Instead, his arm lay on the ground back in the badlands. All thanks to that puny worm. The boy had ruined everything. The horse under him shuddered. The beast had almost reached its limit. The animals could only bear the demonic energy so long before it burned them out. He¡¯d have to land soon or risk falling to the mountains below.

    Not that it mattered. Below him the entrance to his master¡¯s base was only half a mile away. The stupid animal could last that far anyway. A minute later Mikhail spotted the shadowed cave mouth. He urged the horse down.

    It landed in a patch of snow, shuddered again, and collapsed. Mikhail held out his hand and absorbed the demonic energy he¡¯d used to transform his mount. When the last of the power drained away from the horse, all that remained was a rotted corpse. He¡¯d need a new mount. Mikhail rotated his damaged shoulder. He¡¯d need a new arm as well, assuming the master didn¡¯t kill him.

    Mikhail shook his head. Master Blackman wouldn¡¯t dispose of him so lightly. He was the master¡¯s strong right hand, well strong left hand anyway.

    The tunnel had no lights burning anywhere, but to Mikhail¡¯s demon eyes the path was clear. He followed the rough passage for fifty paces, ignoring several side passages. With each step the master¡¯s power grew stronger. The warlock was probably brooding in his library again. He should get out more. It wasn¡¯t healthy to sit in the dark and think too much.

    Mikhail barged into the library. The master sat on his black chair at the far end, turning his amulet over and over. Mikhail walked past the shelves and their demonic artifacts. The creepy things never did fascinate him like they did Morana.

    He went down on one knee in front of the warlock. ¡°Master.¡±

    Master Blackman looked up from his amulet. ¡°What happened to you?¡±

    ¡°I was defeated, Master.¡± The words almost stuck in his throat. He wanted to make excuses, but the master wouldn¡¯t accept them. ¡°A sorcerer bested me and freed the prisoners.¡±

    Stolen story; please report.¡°Took your arm as well.¡± The master¡¯s cold voice was indifferent to Mikhail¡¯s suffering. ¡°Tell me about this sorcerer.¡±

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t much more than a boy, but he was strong and he fought well. Can you fix my arm, Master?¡±

    ¡°Morana warned me you weren¡¯t suitable for the task of being my knight. She said you were vain, weak, and stupid. Perhaps I should have listened. But you were so enthusiastic. You practically tripped over yourself in your rush to murder your father and take your place at my side. Now your incompetence has ruined my plans for our southern front.¡±

    Mikhail winced to hear his master lay out his many failings. To hear that Morana had tried to convince the master not to accept his service didn¡¯t surprise him. The bitch had always been jealous of him. ¡°If you fix my arm I can make everything right. The women and children won¡¯t be difficult to reclaim.¡±

    ¡°You truly are an idiot. General Taos will be on alert and the archmage will have sent more sorcerers to protect the border. No, that avenue is closed to us.¡± Master Blackman rose up off his throne and walked through the shelves. He finally stopped and plucked a long, black, desiccated arm off a shelf. ¡°Come here.¡±

    Mikhail stood and rushed over to his master¡¯s side.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move.¡±

    The master touched the stump of the arm to his shoulder. Black fire burst from the appendage. Pain such as Mikhail had never imagined screamed through his body as the flames fused the new arm to his shoulder.

    When the pain died down Mikhail flexed the fingers of his new hand. They worked well and felt stronger than the one he lost. That it was an ugly, black, scale-covered thing seemed a small price. ¡°Thank you, Master.¡±

    ¡°Best be careful, Mikhail, I have no more spares.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master. What shall I do now?¡± He desperately wanted a new task to prove his worth.

    ¡°You will stay here and guard our base while I¡¯m gone. You would have led the fight on the southern border, but that option is now gone.¡±

    ¡°Please, Master, take me with you. Morana can¡ª¡±

    ¡°Morana has her own work to do. Unlike you, she¡¯s never failed me. My own task is too important to have you getting in my way. I doubt anyone will stumble on this place, but if the wrong people should show up you will kill them. Surely you can manage that simple task.¡±

    The master¡¯s contempt clawed at Mikhail. He wanted nothing so much as to prove he was worthy to join the master when he ascended to true power. ¡°No one will get past me, Master.¡±

    ¡°Remember, only kill the wrong people. If some of our allies should show up I don¡¯t want to find their bodies bleeding on the stone. Everyone has their part to play if the plan is to succeed despite your failure. If you fail me again I¡¯ll have your own arm strangle you. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master. I won¡¯t fail.¡±

    ¡°Good. A new world is waiting for us, Mikhail. If you wish to see it you must prove your worth. Otherwise you burn with the rest of the garbage.¡±

 3.1

    Jaden flew through the beautiful blue sky along his patrol route, the wind whistling in his ears, his tan tunic snapping. Below him the vast expanse of the Western Ocean spread out as far as he could see in every direction, the blue-green waters broken occasionally by small, sandy islands or pods of playing dolphins. Silas, the other junior sorcerer stationed on Lookout Island, even claimed to have seen the serpentine shadow of the Leviathan once, but Silas lied so often that no one took him seriously.

    Jaden had seen no sign of the mighty water dragon nor did he have any great desire to. The sailors who brought supplies and replacement warlords to man the fort spoke of the Leviathan the same way they did a hurricane. They considered it a force of nature rather than an aware creature that made rational decisions. Jaden didn¡¯t know the truth and he suspected no one else did either. They couldn¡¯t exactly seek the creature out and ask.

    Today found Jaden on the northern patrol route. North a hundred miles, west fifty, then back to the island for lunch. The whole trip took about five hours. Master Soran had only begun to trust Jaden to make the patrol by himself in the last month.

    He smiled, remembering how proud and nervous he¡¯d felt when his master told him he could go out on his own. That had been a tense, exhausting trip even though he¡¯d seen nothing more threatening than a breeching whale.

    He paused to conjure a far-seer construct. It had taken Jaden a full two months of practice before he mastered the complex conjuring. Multiple, overlapping layers of soul force combined to mimic the effect of a spyglass, only much more powerful. Looking through his construct Jaden could see twenty miles out into the ocean like it was twenty feet.

    Nothing lurked on the western horizon. No ships, no dragons, just endless blue, exactly as Jaden preferred. He let his construct collapse and continued his patrol. Twice more Jaden paused to study the horizon and each time he found it every bit as empty as the last.

    What would the cook make for lunch today? Probably something with fish. The warlords spent most of their time swimming the clear waters with spears in hand. It was a rare day indeed when none of the ten men and four women brought anything delicious from the blue depths. Jaden only wished the cook¡¯s skill equaled his father¡¯s.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Jaden loved his quiet new life, but he missed his parents a great deal and couldn¡¯t wait for his next leave in two months. Dad had promised to make all his favorites. Thinking about it made his mouth water as he paused for his next scan of the empty horizon.

    It couldn¡¯t be!

    Jaden shifted his construct from wide scanning to focused zoom. There, maybe forty miles out¡ªfour dark-hulled ships, their sails taut in the breeze. They came out of the west, from the direction of the Old Empire. In the 220-year history of Lookout Island no ship had ever been seen on the western horizon.The warlords and sorcerers assigned the post considered it either a punishment that kept them out of the real action or a reward that kept them out of the real action.

    How could this have happened less than a year into his posting? Jaden dug through the satchel hanging from his shoulder. Master Soran¡¯s call stick had to be here somewhere. Pawing through the random shells, polished stones, and other junk he¡¯d accumulated, never taking his eyes off the impossible ships, Jaden finally found it. The thin piece of wood snapped easily in his trembling hands.

    Master Soran arrived surrounded by a glowing aura and looking a bit out of breath. His long, wild white hair made the sorcerer look more like an island castaway than an expert soul force wielder. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Jaden hadn¡¯t looked away from the four tiny ships bobbing out on the waves since he¡¯d broken the call stick. He didn¡¯t now, afraid if he did they¡¯d vanish like a mirage. Instead he simply pointed. ¡°Ships.¡±

    ¡°It can¡¯t be.¡±

    Jaden sensed his master conjuring beside him and a few seconds later he gasped. It sounded like he believed now.

    ¡°What do we do, Master?¡±

    Master Soran didn¡¯t speak for many long seconds. When he finally did he said, ¡°For now we¡¯ll keep watch, day and night. They¡¯re still weeks away from reaching the island and more weeks yet from reaching the kingdom. The ships may turn back or alter their course. Until we know something for sure we do our job and watch them. If they haven¡¯t changed course within a week we alert the archmage. After that it¡¯ll be for her and the king to decide.¡±

    ¡°At least there aren¡¯t enough ships for an invasion,¡± Jaden said.

    ¡°No. More likely they sent an envoy who¡¯ll demand we rejoin the empire and if we refuse the invasion fleet will follow shortly.¡±

    Jaden swallowed. So much for this being an easy posting.

 3.2

    Damien sighed as he landed in the empty yard outside The Tower. Two feet of fresh snow forced him to conjure a platform under his feet or sink to his knees. Bright blue skies held a blinding sun that reflected off the white yard causing him to squint. Despite the light, the sun did nothing to relieve the bitter cold.

    Not that the chill bothered Damien. He¡¯d surrounded himself with a pocket of warm air and little wisps of steam rose from his shield. To look at the clear sky today you¡¯d never know two days ago it had been snowing three inches an hour. Damien found he missed the southern weather. He didn¡¯t miss the bandits, poison, assassins, black knight, or corrupt barons. But the warm sunshine had been nice.

    He strode toward The Tower doors, extending the platform ahead of him. One of the guards on the wall waved, looking miserable huddled beside an inadequate brazier. Damien returned the gesture. He¡¯d gotten to know most of the guards during his time studying and they generally recognized him when he visited.

    Damien had managed four days of rest before he couldn¡¯t stand it anymore. The one small mercy of the past few days: Karrie hardly bothered him at all. She didn¡¯t seem angry or anything, just distant. Maybe she¡¯d accepted that he had no intention of marrying her. He hoped so. It would be a relief to go back to just being friends.

    When he¡¯d gone to the archmage looking for something to do she¡¯d sent him to The Tower with orders to learn all he could about Connor Blackman. Damien had never been much for research. He preferred action. Still, he¡¯d gotten comfortable in the library during his studies and a handful of days amid the stacks would make for a nice change of pace after all the running around and fighting. And it would be nice to see Eli, Amanda, and Ann again.

    Damien used soul force to open the massive, black front doors and walked into the black and silver entry hall. He pulled the doors closed and turned toward the headmaster¡¯s office. The tiny old man was expecting him. The archmage had sent a message detailing Damien¡¯s mission and pending arrival so there should be no problem on that account.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he walked toward the office. Had it only been three and a half years since he first visited the now-familiar hall, a nervous kid with no idea what lay before him? The bench where he¡¯d first seen Eli sat empty this morning. That boded well for him getting right in to see the headmaster.

    Damien knocked and the office door swung open. The dry smell of parchment and ink rolled over him. The little man stood in front of his desk, a bright smile on his bewhiskered face.

    Damien had barely taken a step inside the room when the headmaster rushed over and grasped his hand, pumping enthusiastically. ¡°Good to see you again, my boy. Sit down, sit down. Lidia told me all about your adventures down south. Remarkable, absolutely remarkable.¡±

    The headmaster bustled around behind his desk and sat. His head stuck up well above the surface of the desk. Did he sit on a stack of books or use a special chair? Damien eased into one of the guest chairs. Even after three plus years it took all his willpower to sit in the presence of a master. He¡¯d learned, however, that the headmaster wouldn¡¯t relax until Damien took a chair so he did it as much for the older man as his own comfort.

    ¡°To think Connor Blackman would have resurrected the old Cult of the Horned One. That boy always did have an unhealthy fascination with the black arts. When he escaped after we discovered him experimenting with demonic artifacts I feared he¡¯d come back to haunt us. But I never imagined something like this.¡±

    Damien forced himself to interrupt the flustered master. ¡°Sir, did you assemble the list of Connor¡¯s yearmates?¡±

    The headmaster shook himself, a little shudder running through his beard. ¡°Of course, it¡¯s here somewhere.¡± He rummaged around through myriad papers on his cluttered desk. Eventually he pulled out a crumpled sheet of parchment. ¡°Here we go. Small class that year, only Connor and two others, Kat Gentul and David Weks. Both were good students and haven¡¯t given us a moment¡¯s grief. You¡¯ll find their current assignments there as well.¡±

    Damien accepted the parchment. ¡°Thank you, sir. Did your researchers have any luck at the goblin lair?¡±

    The headmaster harrumphed. ¡°No. All their tests came back inconclusive. The only thing they learned for sure was that someone summoned the demon within the past ten years with primarily nonhuman sacrifices.¡±

    ¡°Nonhuman?¡±

    ¡°Mainly goblin and animal. Probably why the tribe was so small. Anything else I can do to help you?¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s okay and they¡¯re agreeable, I¡¯d like to borrow Ann and Eli to help with my research. I don¡¯t know how much reading I¡¯ll have to do, but two extra sets of eyes would speed the process along.¡±

    ¡°By all means, if they can help, use them.¡±

 3.3

    Damien stood outside Ann¡¯s training room. How long had it been since he¡¯d seen his teacher? Six months or so, the night they¡¯d had dinner at the Dancing Pony. In fact, that night she¡¯d told him about Connor Blackman. He¡¯d have found the coincidence more amusing if the situation weren¡¯t so bad.

    Damien rapped on the door and waited. He¡¯d tried Eli first, but his former roommate wasn¡¯t home. Probably training for another shot at the final test. Damien would try and catch up with Eli at lunch. After a few seconds of waiting it became clear Ann wasn¡¯t in her training room. Damien frowned. So far his luck tracking down his potential assistants stunk. Hopefully the search for information on Blackman would go smoother.

    A short flight up brought Damien to Ann¡¯s quarters and when he knocked this time the door opened a moment later. Ann stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a half-buttoned shirt, her long black hair disheveled like she¡¯d just gotten out of bed.

    ¡°Is this a bad time?¡± Damien kept his focus on her eyes, which twinkled with mischief.

    ¡°It¡¯s never a bad time for my favorite student to visit. Come in.¡±

    Damien hesitated a moment then slipped inside. Some spicy perfume filled the room, a jumbled mess of tangled sheets covered the bed, and a pile of clothes sat at its foot. Maybe he had woken her up. ¡°I can come back later.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly. Just sit down while I finish getting ready.¡± Ann walked toward the bathroom door. Halfway across the room she unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it aside. She glanced back at Damien and winked.

    He sighed. At least some things never changed. Damien picked a pair of lacy black underwear out of one of the two chairs in the living area, and sat. Water splashed behind the bathroom door. If Ann took as long getting ready as Lane he should probably get comfortable.

    Twenty minutes later she emerged from the bathroom in her favorite black dress, the one with slits up to both thighs and a deep neckline, her hair perfect, and balanced on four-inch heels. ¡°So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? I assume not just because you missed me.¡±

    ¡°No, though I did miss you. I need you to help me do some research on Connor Blackman.¡±

    She frowned and sat across from him. ¡°Why? No one¡¯s seen or heard from Connor in six years.¡±

    Damien filled her in on his recent adventures. When he finished he said, ¡°The archmage wants me to find out everything I can about Blackman. I figured I¡¯d start in the library. Mistress Lenore is bound to remember what Connor used to read. That might give me some clues about his plans. I also need to track down his yearmates. Doesn¡¯t sound like there¡¯s much to them, but better safe than sorry.¡±

    ¡°Lenore remembers everything, but she wasn¡¯t the librarian when Connor studied here. She¡¯s a year or two younger than me. I can¡¯t believe Connor Blackman¡¯s appeared again after all this time and as a warlock no less. I knew, I mean, everyone knew about his fascination with demons, but to go so far as to trade his soul to the Horned One¡­¡± She shook her head. ¡°Anything I can do just tell me. I¡¯m at your disposal.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. I appreciate the help and the company. I¡¯d hoped to grab Eli as well, but couldn¡¯t find him. Have you seen much of him and Amanda?¡±

    ¡°I see Eli occasionally in the dining hall, but Amanda Lee passed her final test last month. She¡¯s gone out on assignment.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Damien stared. ¡°No one told me. I would have liked to congratulate her.¡±

    ¡°From the sounds of it you were unreachable last month.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but still. Well, forget it. Shall we head to the library?¡±

    They left Ann¡¯s room and went down to the fourth floor. The library filled the entire level and at the center, behind a desk as perfectly ordered as Ann¡¯s room was messy, sat Mistress Lenore. She wore her hair in a bun so tight it stretched the skin of her face. Some of the students whispered she did it to hide wrinkles. Damien doubted wrinkles would have nerve enough to form on her severe features. She looked at least ten years older than Ann. Damien had a hard time believing they were near the same age. Her perpetual frown deepened as he and Ann approached. What had they done to upset her?

    Mistress Lenore adjusted her round wire-rimmed spectacles. ¡°Ann, Damien, what brings you two here?¡±

    Damien smiled his best smile. ¡°We hoped you could help us. The archmage asked me to investigate Connor Blackman and I need to know what books he read before he left The Tower.¡±

    Thin lips pursed as she concentrated. Mistress Lenore had the gift, or curse, depending on who you asked, of never forgetting anything. She had a soul force so weak she barely qualified as a sorcerer, but her perfect memory made her an ideal librarian. She could find any book in the place in moments and summarize the contents for you.

    ¡°Connor liked anything to do with demons. But his real obsession was the Mad King and the haunted lands. We don¡¯t have much information on them, but he read all of it, more than once according to the records. In fact, he read one history seven times over the course of two years.¡±

    ¡°He read these books when he was a student?¡± Ann asked.

    Mistress Lenore glared at Ann. It didn¡¯t look like they got along. That surprised Damien as he thought Ann was liked by everyone. ¡°Yes, and several times after he passed his final test according to the records. He¡¯d visit every time he came back from patrol. I saw him myself right after I assumed my post and just before he disappeared. It¡¯s like he needed to read them every so often.¡±

    ¡°Can you show us?¡± Damien asked.

    Her expression softened. ¡°Of course, but I¡¯ll warn you, this isn¡¯t pleasant reading. Some of the things the Mad King did¡­¡± She shuddered.

    Mistress Lenore led them around the library, collecting books as they went. Several students reading at the scattered desks looked up as the little group walked by, their gazes lingering on Ann who reveled in the attention. Damien smiled. Some things really did never change.

    When they¡¯d collected fifteen thick leather-bound books he thanked Mistress Lenore and he and Ann settled in at an empty table. ¡°Did you ever meet him?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Connor.¡±

    ¡°No, he arrived after I passed my test and had begun field work and he had already left when I returned to teach.¡±

    Damien knew they had to hurry, but curiosity got the best of him. ¡°How come you¡¯re not still in the field? You¡¯re young, beautiful, strong. I don¡¯t know how the masters could design a better field sorcerer.¡±

    She patted his hand, but her smile seemed sad. ¡°You¡¯re sweet. I do have all those things you mentioned, but I discovered I lacked something important: the will to use my power in battle. I just didn¡¯t have it in me to kill my opponents. In the field, that inability almost resulted in my master¡¯s death and mine along with him. We were tracking down a rogue sorcerer. I hesitated in battle. She blasted my master and escaped. I healed him, but it became clear to me I was nothing but a liability in a real fight. I had all the necessary skills so Thomas accepted my request to teach. I find it suits me much better.¡±

    Damien nodded. Teaching did suit her. She had a knack for explaining things so others understood. If she couldn¡¯t do what she had to, staying out of the field made sense. He grabbed the first book in the pile, a bestiary describing the most common varieties of demon, and started reading.

    An hour later Damien rubbed his eyes. Who would have thought you could fill an inch-thick book with demon varieties? From the sounds of it a demon could inhabit any host, but they preferred vicious creatures with fangs and claws. You could put a demon spirit into a bunny, but the demon wouldn¡¯t have much to work with in terms of natural weapons.

    ¡°Please tell me you found something interesting.¡±

    Ann shook her head. ¡°A book full of nasty blood rituals. Heaven¡¯s mercy! Who goes looking for stuff like this?¡±

    ¡°A warlock in the making, I guess. Someone should write down the names of everyone that reads these books. We¡¯d be halfway to figuring out who to keep an eye on.¡±

    ¡°A little late now.¡±

    ¡°A lot late now, but maybe we can spot the next Connor Blackman before he moves past research.¡±

 3.4

    Connor Blackman wrapped himself in an invisibility shield and flew into the cold morning sky. He sent a silent prayer to the Horned One that Mikhail didn¡¯t destroy anything in his library or kill anyone with important information. The more he saw of the former merchant the more he feared Morana had been right to warn him away from the stupid young man. Unfortunately, Connor had invested too much time and power in creating the black knight to simply toss him away and start over. Phase two of his plan would begin in earnest within weeks if not days and Connor simply didn¡¯t have time to make a new servant.

    Connor flew east toward the Barrier Mountains. His base was only a half hour¡¯s flight from the steep mountain range and when he reached them he stopped and hovered, gathering himself for his second great trial.

    The tall, jagged peaks marked the eastern border of the kingdom. On the far side lay the haunted lands, a blasted land crawling with demons and undead. Unless you could fly over the mountains, the only way to travel between the kingdom and the haunted lands was a single, narrow pass. On the kingdom side the Order of the Shield, the largest order of paladins in the kingdom, had built a massive citadel.

    How he despised the holy warriors. Each of them was bonded to an angel, gaining its power and skill. They were powerful enemies, but arrogant and overconfident. No one had challenged them in many years and they believed no one could. Connor would set them straight in due time.

    The order had been formed three hundred and fifty years ago when explorers first discovered the haunted lands. The leader of the order pronounced the reclamation of the haunted lands his group¡¯s reason for existing. The more practical members decided the first item of business was stopping the undead from wandering through the pass and into the newly formed kingdom. The citadel took five years to build, but when they¡¯d finished, combined with the paladins¡¯ holy power, it formed an impenetrable barrier.

    Connor grimaced and focused on his mission. He surrounded himself with a crackling barrier of dark energy that should protect him from the worst of the life-draining effects of the haunted lands. For the truth was, the haunted lands were an annex of hell on earth. The living, even a warlock like Connor, had no place there. At least he needed no food or drink like a mere mortal.

    The moment he passed across to the far side of the mountains, a familiar, crushing power gripped Connor with an iron fist. He pushed more power into his shield and snarled away the pain. It was nothing compared to the first time he visited the grim locale years ago as a simple sorcerer. He¡¯d feared just crossing the border that first time would kill him instantly. It didn¡¯t and he gained the first and most precious of his artifacts.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    He touched the bronze amulet that hung around his neck under his blood-red tunic. If he was right, that amulet was the key to everything. If he¡¯d miscalculated Connor would most likely die in the haunted lands, his soul consumed by the Horned One for his ignorance.

    Below him the bleakest environment imaginable sped by. No spark of life appeared anywhere in the gray wasteland. Here and there a shambling zombie or a darting, ravenous ghoul broke the otherwise empty landscape. The zombies ignored Connor as he flew over their heads, but the clever ghouls turned hungry gazes toward the meat above them.

    He didn¡¯t fear the minor undead; none of them would last an instant longer than he wished. The danger lay with the sort of creature a display of his power might attract. Far mightier and more fearsome things lurked in the wastes than zombies.

    Forty-five minutes from the mountains Connor caught sight of the first sign that anyone had once called this land home. A flat-topped, step-sided stone pyramid thrust up from the gray sand. On the top the ancients had built an altar. The Horned One alone knew how many sacrifices that altar had accepted.

    This was what Connor had flown so far to find. Others had visited the pyramid, warlocks of the old cult, men and women slain long before Connor¡¯s birth. Most considered them madmen and lunatics, but Connor honored them in his heart as his forebears. Everything he¡¯d accomplished he owed to their early efforts. Unlike those pioneers, he didn¡¯t intend to fail.

    Connor landed beside the towering pyramid. It rose at least two hundred feet into the air. Unlike stone structures in the kingdom, no sorcerer had fused the stone blocks together. Thin lines showed where the blocks fit. The few scribblings he¡¯d found indicated the final pyramids had been constructed in a hurry.

    Connor raised a reverent hand and laid it on the polished stone. A hint of corruption flowed into him. Such power, and it constituted only the barest taste of what waited inside. Connor sent a stream of soul force into the stone, seeking the door. He found it in moments. An ancient ward kept the temple sealed against casual visitors. His power interacted with the ward. Black flames outlined the entrance thirty feet to his left. Massive stone blocks slid inward and to the right, revealing a black tunnel running straight towards the interior of the pyramid.

    He stood looking into the darkness, savoring the moment. Years of study and research had led to this and Connor wanted to enjoy it.

    A pair of glowing red eyes appeared ten feet above the ground, cutting his savoring short. Power gathered around those eyes and crimson flames flickered to life revealing the massive form of the guardian demon. Ridged plates covered a massive humanoid shape, but darkness obscured most of the details. Connor had expected to meet the monster in the heart of the pyramid, but it must have sensed his power and come hunting.

    Better to have his first test sooner than later.

 3.5

    Connor drew deep from the black pit that sat at the core of his body. Once, a golden sphere of energy as pure as the sun filled his core, but now it had been replaced by a tiny fragment of the Horned One¡¯s own corrupt soul. Dark power, dense beyond the comprehension of mortal sorcerers, was his to command. That it had transformed him into something other than human was a small price to pay. With that power Connor could shatter castles, lay waste to whole villages. The question now was, could he dominate the demon blocking his path deeper into the pyramid?

    Time to find out.

    A river of black flames poured from Connor¡¯s raised hands. The flames struck a deep red barrier and were pushed back.

    In the sanguine light Connor got his first good look at the creature that opposed him. Curved tusks grew from a distended jaw filled with jagged teeth. Red eyes glowed in a porcine face. Massive legs covered in bristly hair ended in cloven hooves. Behind it bat wings obscured everything deeper in the pyramid and a lashing tail tipped with a mass of spiked bone twitched from side to side.

    The demon roared and red flames pushed Connor¡¯s dark fire further back.

    He sent more power into his attack.

    This would be so much easier if he could simply kill the guardian. Unfortunately, the demon¡¯s life-force was inextricably bound to the pyramid. If Connor killed the guardian the pyramid would collapse, burying the secrets he hoped to collect.

    No, he needed to bind the demon, force it to submit to his superior power. Connor conjured a pair of black, clawed hands and had them clutch the demon.

    It snarled and shrugged massive shoulders. The constructs shattered into so many black sparks.

    The demon threw its head back then forward. A torrent of red flames spewed at Connor.

    He fell flat.

    Heat and vileness seared his back.

    Though he now possessed demonic soul force his body still retained some of its human frailties, and hellfire destroyed his flesh the way it did anything else it encountered.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Connor didn¡¯t know if he could win going blast for blast with the guardian. His eyes narrowed as he studied it. A crimson cord of power ran from its back deeper into the pyramid. That cord represented the link that bound the demon to the pyramid.

    He rolled right. Another blast of hellfire narrowly missed turning Connor to ash.

    The creature drew power from the pyramid, augmenting its already formidable strength. Worse, Connor couldn¡¯t sever the link without destroying the very thing he sought to explore.

    Connor hammered the demon with a blast of dark fire, forcing it back a pace. The warlock scrambled to his feet. If he couldn¡¯t sever the connection maybe he could block it.

    Before the demon regained its balance, Connor slammed a barrier into the cord, blocking the flow of power. Instantly the demon shrank by half. Its massive frame withered and it roared in pain. Not wanting to give it a moment to recover, Connor conjured black chains, binding the demon from neck to ankles. He poured almost all his power into the construct.

    The guardian tried to shatter it.

    Connor held his breath. If the chains broke he had nothing left to continue the fight.

    Strain and struggle as he might, the demon couldn¡¯t escape in its reduced form. Connor let out the breath he¡¯d been holding. He¡¯d won. For now at least.

    He had to make sure the demon didn¡¯t escape until he finished his search. He sent a stream of energy to maintain the rapidly deteriorating block and a second to maintain the chains. That left him with only a trickle to replenish his almost empty core.

    He grimaced. If there were more guardians he¡¯d be in bad shape to fight, though it didn¡¯t really matter. If the binding failed the demon would finish him. Anything beyond that remained speculation and he¡¯d deal with it when it became fact.

    Connor waved his hand and the demon slammed into the left side of the tunnel. It let out a guttural snarl as Connor walked past.

    The warlock paused. ¡°We serve the same master. Fighting amongst ourselves benefits no one.¡±

    The demon shook and after a moment Connor realized the monster was laughing. ¡°Stupid human. Fighting, killing, consuming: it¡¯s what we do. What we are. Demons have no allies. Only those more powerful that we serve to avoid being devoured and those weaker that we destroy to grow stronger. That is our essence. The pure meaning of being a demon.¡±

    Connor nodded, absently clenching his fist and tightening the bindings around the demon, drawing a snarl of pain. What the guardian said was true and it explained why the princes of hell, like his master, sought mortal agents. Humans understood what it meant to have allies and how to work with others. Demons would never be more than slave soldiers, constantly seeking enough power to challenge their master and take his place.

    Though he desired ever greater power and immortality, Connor had no interest in taking the Horned One¡¯s place. No being in all existence had more enemies than a prince of hell. Better to stay in the mighty one¡¯s shadow. Accumulate power by providing good service. If the time came that the Horned One fell from his throne, Connor would offer his services to whoever took the master¡¯s place or, failing that, flee.

    The ambitious sought mastery over all, but the wise sought survival above all.

 3.6

    Damien closed another book. They¡¯d been at it for five days and only three books remained in the unread stack. He now knew more about demons, warlocks, and cults than he ever wanted to and he remained no closer to finding Connor¡¯s hiding place. The only things the books had in common were demons and the haunted lands, and he doubted even a warlock would try hiding in that undead-filled wasteland.

    He ran a hand through his hair. They were almost done. He just had to buckle down and finish up.

    The library seemed even quieter than usual; the soft rustle of pages being turned or the tapping of students¡¯ shoes on the hard floor no longer filled the silence. They had the whole place to themselves, aside from Mistress Lenore. The library had the hollow, lifeless feeling of a tomb.

    Damien shook his head. That was the books talking. Spending fourteen hours a day reading about the worst of humanity could put a man in a dark mood.

    Ann slid closer to him on the bench, pressing her hip against his. Damien inched away and she slid over again until they were touching.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!Damien smiled. She played this game every time he showed signs of flagging and he loved her for it. He slipped his hand under the table and squeezed her bare knee. She flinched and slid back to her side of the bench. He¡¯d discovered that, despite her flirtatious nature, if he showed any interest she backed off at once. Apparently she only enjoyed the game if he didn¡¯t want to play. Knowing that made it even more fun to tease her back.

    ¡°Find anything interesting?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Does the fact that some people are every bit as awful as the worst demon count?¡±

    ¡°No, I already knew that. I was thinking about something that might give us a hint where Connor is hiding.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t help you with that. Is there any way to unread all this horror? I never dreamed such awful books existed much less waited for anyone interested to find in our library.¡±

    Damien slid closer to her and put his arm around her. It seemed that, that despite her provocative dress and manner, Ann remained quite innocent about just how terrible the world could be. He felt a little bad about giving her a crash course.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been a huge help, you know. What do you say we finish these last three books then head over to the Dancing Pony. I¡¯ll buy you that chocolate cake you like and we can split a bottle of good red wine.¡±

    She smiled, though her eyes still looked sad. ¡°That sounds wonderful.¡±

    ¡°Then it¡¯s a date.¡± He kissed her on the cheek.

    Ann¡¯s face turned red and he forced himself not to grin. Teasing was kind of fun. He understood why she enjoyed it so much.

 3.7

    Damien woke up in his old spartan room relieved not to have a headache. Ann had drunk more than her share of the wine the night before, saving him a hangover. He feared she wouldn¡¯t be so fortunate. She¡¯d fallen asleep halfway through the flight back to The Tower and he¡¯d had to carry her up to her room and tuck her in. If she rolled out of bed before noon Damien would be surprised.

    For his part Damien was eager to track down Connor¡¯s yearmates and see what they had to say. In all honesty he¡¯d welcome anything other than reading in the library. If he didn¡¯t set foot in the place for a year it would suit him just fine.

    Damien took his time with his workout, adding half an hour of meditation before heading downstairs to the dining hall. Jaden¡¯s father had devised a new spice blend for his breakfast potatoes and Damien couldn¡¯t get enough of them. He pushed through the swinging doors and found a line waiting. The scent of rosemary and sage filled the room and set his mouth to watering. It appeared Damien wasn¡¯t the only one who liked the new spices. This was the first time he could remember getting to the hall and not being the first to arrive.

    He spotted Eli on a bench at the far end of the hall. When he looked up from his food Damien waved. His friend motioned him over and after he finally collected his breakfast Damien went to join him.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t help you with your research,¡± Eli said. ¡°I¡¯m retaking the final test next month and I really need to practice.¡±

    Damien waved off his apology. ¡°It¡¯s fine. We finished yesterday and didn¡¯t find anything remotely useful. What discipline did you decide to focus on?¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°I followed Jaden¡¯s example and chose attack. My speed and accuracy are much better, but I don¡¯t know if I can hit hard enough.¡±

    ¡°Make your blasts as narrow and focused as you can. That¡¯ll increase their penetration.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just what my teacher said.¡±

    All around them the room fell silent.

    Damien spun around and found the headmaster standing in the doorway. The old man looked as serious as Damien had ever seen him. The deep wrinkles in his forehead looked like canyons and the normally smiling face was turned down in a fierce scowl.

    ¡°Got to go. Good luck on your test.¡±

    Damien left his half-finished breakfast and trotted over to the headmaster. ¡°Sir?¡±

    ¡°Come with me.¡±

    Damien followed the headmaster back to his office, neither of them speaking. That the old man could go over a minute without laughing or joking surprised Damien. It appeared he had a serious side after all. From the way he was acting Damien suspected he wouldn¡¯t be staying long so he didn¡¯t bother to sit once the door closed behind them.

    Damien accepted a scroll from him and started reading. The message wasn¡¯t long. Ships had been spotted coming from the west. The archmage wanted him to return to the capital at once.

    He looked up from the scroll. ¡°Is it true?¡±

    The headmaster nodded. ¡°This isn¡¯t something Lidia would joke about. We¡¯ve long feared the Old Empire would try to make contact. It appears that day has arrived.¡±

    ¡°What about the search for Connor?¡± It bothered Damien to leave his task half finished, but he knew his master wouldn¡¯t have recalled him unless the situation were serious.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll send Lon to speak with his yearmates.¡±

    Damien dug the many-times-folded piece of parchment with the names and assignments of Connor¡¯s yearmates out of his pocket and handed it back to the headmaster. ¡°Tell him to be sure and ask about the haunted lands. Connor seemed to have an obsession with the place.¡±

    ¡°I will. Anything else?¡±

    ¡°No, sir. I¡¯ll collect my gear and head out.¡±

    ¡°Be careful, my boy. The Old Empire wasn¡¯t feared throughout the world for nothing.¡±

 3.8

    John Kord stood in front of his mentor¡¯s desk surrounded by the acrid, minty smell of alcohol and brewing potions. He¡¯d gotten used to the odd combination over the past year and a half. Four tables covered with bubbling beakers and flasks sat in front of the back wall.

    His master, dressed today as was his habit in a blue-and-silver commander¡¯s uniform, had gotten reassigned after the battle with the Ice Queen¡¯s army. The two of them now worked out of the barracks built just outside the city of Jorgen, the capital city of the northlands. They did their best to reconstruct the damaged limbs of soldiers injured during the war. The slow, tedious work wore on John, but when he restored a man¡¯s hand so he could tie his boots again, or hold a sword, the satisfaction defied description.

    Now it seemed he had to leave his task in the middle. John read the message Master Kane handed him for the second time. He¡¯d been selected to serve as Princess Karrie¡¯s personal healer. He was to report to the capital as soon as possible.

    It made no sense. John was an inexperienced sorcerer still in training. If Karrie really needed a healer there were dozens of sorcerers more qualified than him.

    John finally looked at his master. ¡°Is this a joke?¡±

    Master Kane frowned. ¡°No, though that was my first reaction as well. We have hundreds of injured men that need healing and as far as I know the princess is in excellent health. Whatever we may think, an order from the capital isn¡¯t something you can ignore.¡±

    ¡°What about my training? I still have five more months.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.Master Kane¡¯s expression lost some of its edge. ¡°The truth is, John, I have little more to teach you. You have a natural gift for healing which time and experience will hone. I¡¯m totally confident releasing you from your training early. Now you¡¯d best pack your gear and get a move on. When the capital says jump, you jump.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± John bowed then held out his hand. ¡°It has been a pleasure working with you.¡±

    Master Kane stood up from behind his desk and shook John¡¯s hand. ¡°Likewise. And don¡¯t worry about things here. I¡¯ll hold down the fort. You just focus on your new patient.¡±

    John left his master¡¯s combination apothecary and office, closing the door behind him. Out in the gray stone hall the occasional groan of an injured soldier in the healers¡¯ ward reached him. His instincts shouted at him to go help whoever was hurting, but he forced his steps the opposite way, toward the little room where he slept.

    Halfway there Mary Ann, a cute blond nurse that looked a little like Jen, rounded a corner, her arms loaded with clean towels. She smiled at him over the mound of linen and John winked. He¡¯d miss their banter only a little less than his work helping the injured. Not that there was anything serious between them. A quick kiss and cuddle now and then, to break the tension of working long hours with men in horrible pain. She wouldn¡¯t have any trouble finding a replacement for him.

    His room was little more than a monk¡¯s cell. A narrow bed, footlocker, and nightstand with a wash bowl were his only furniture. He emptied his footlocker into a canvas rucksack and was ready to leave. Since beginning his training with Master Kane he¡¯d gotten in the habit of traveling light. He had plenty of fancy clothes at home, but since everything he wore ended up with blood on it why bother dragging silk doublets and shiny boots around with him. That may have to change if he was to serve in the capital. He grimaced, not certain if he liked the idea of getting back into a role he hadn¡¯t played in almost five years.

    Perhaps he could focus more on being a healer rather than the son of one of the four generals. Fat chance of that. The moment he arrived there¡¯d be someone hoping to use him to get a favor from his father. Much as he¡¯d prefer to avoid it, politics were unavoidable for him.

 3.9

    John landed his conjured horse well away from the castle. A few curious people glanced his way, but for the most part sorcerers arriving in the capital weren¡¯t so uncommon that his landing drew much reaction. If he¡¯d tried to land in the castle courtyard, on the other hand, he would have drawn the attention of the Crimson Legion. All in all he preferred to approach the front gates and deal with the regular guards.

    He guided his construct along the road up to the closed gates. Behind him a trunk loaded with a selection of his better clothes picked up from home on his way south floated on a disk of soul force. He had considered not bothering with the expensive outfits, but figured word would get back to his mother if he didn¡¯t dress properly. In her own way his mother was every bit as fierce as the general. That probably explained why his parents had stayed married for so long.

    Four warlords stood guard outside instead of the usual two ordinary soldiers. The warlords looked tense, their hands never straying far from the hilts of their swords. John eased closer, not wanting to do anything that might startle the nervous guards.

    When he was ten yards from the gate one of the warlords stepped forward. ¡°Halt! State your name and business.¡±

    ¡°John Kord. I¡¯ve been assigned as Princess Karrie¡¯s new personal healer.¡±

    The guard looked back. One of the other warlords had unrolled a scroll. What in the world was happening? John had never seen security so tight. A few seconds later the man with the scroll nodded.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°You¡¯re expected. I¡¯ll have to search your luggage.¡±

    John made the trunk move up closer and the top pop open. ¡°Please be careful not to wrinkle my clothes.¡±

    The guard poked around for a minute then nodded. ¡°Okay, go ahead.¡±

    The massive gate swung open and John guided his construct through. He dismounted and let the horse vanish. Groups of warlords, each accompanied by a sorcerer in red robes, patrolled the courtyard. Heaven¡¯s mercy. Were they expecting an invasion?

    John shook his head and headed for the door to the keep. Two more warlords stood by the closed doors. They eyed John as though expecting him to start blasting everyone any moment. Despite their suspicious looks they opened the door as he drew closer.

    It had been a while, but the familiar entry hall hadn¡¯t changed. Suits of armor still lined the path to the throne room. The message said to report to the castle, but not exactly to whom. His first thought was the archmage, but he had no idea where to find her. By the same token he didn¡¯t know where Karrie might be either. He¡¯d try the throne room. The king and his father had known each other for years, he¡¯d help.

    He walked down the short hall and sighed in relief to find the usual guards on duty instead of more warlords. They probably figured if an enemy made it this far two more warlords wouldn¡¯t make much difference. He frowned when the guards made no move to open the doors for him.

    ¡°Is the king in court?¡± John asked.

    ¡°He¡¯s having a private meeting with the archmage,¡± the left-hand guard said. ¡°He¡¯s not to be disturbed.¡±

    John sighed and sat on his trunk. ¡°Mind if I wait here?¡±

    The guards looked at each other and the one that hadn¡¯t spoken shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t see why not,¡± the spokesman said.

 3.10

    Wind whistled in his ears as Damien blasted through the leaden sky at top speed. If the headmaster had read the situation correctly he had little time to spare. How was it possible that they had a warlock getting up to who knew what and at the same time ships from the Old Empire were approaching the kingdom? Had the universe decided to see how much trouble they could handle at one time? If just one more thing happened he feared it might break them.

    The capital grew larger and soon filled Damien¡¯s vision. He went straight to the castle, landing in the courtyard. Three groups of warlords, each paired with a sorcerer, ran towards him. What were they doing patrolling the courtyard? The empire ships must have everyone on edge.

    He recognized one of the Crimson Legion sorcerers. ¡°Alden, what¡¯s going on?¡±

    The red-robed sorcerer waved the others off. ¡°It¡¯s okay, he¡¯s one of ours. The archmage ordered triple patrols as soon as we found out about the imperial ships. After the assassin slipped through, she¡¯s not taking any chances and the captain of the guard agreed whole heartedly.¡±

    ¡°She sent a message calling me back. Do you know where I can find her?¡±

    ¡°I believe the archmage is in the throne room trying to convince the king she¡¯s not overreacting.¡±

    Alden went back to his patrol and Damien headed for the keep. The warlords guarding the door must have seen him talking with the Crimson Legionnaire as they opened the door for him without a fuss. Damien offered them a nod, but didn¡¯t break stride. He stopped at the entrance to the hall leading to the throne room. Seated on a trunk fifteen feet from the doors was the last person he expected to find here.

    ¡°John?¡±

    His old friend turned toward Damien and offered a relieved smile. Behind John the guards reached for the doors. Damien gave a subtle shake of his head and the men resumed their positions. ¡°Damien, thank heaven. I¡¯ve been sitting out here for an hour waiting for the king to finish his meeting so I can find out where I¡¯m supposed to go.¡±

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.Damien frowned. ¡°Why are you here, exactly? I thought you were assigned to the northern army.¡±

    ¡°I was. I got a message reassigning me to serve as Princess Karrie¡¯s personal healer. I rushed south and when I arrived I found more guards on duty than I¡¯ve ever seen. Do you know what¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but I¡¯m not certain how much I can tell you. Come on, I¡¯ll take you up to the royal quarters. If Karrie¡¯s not there, someone will know where to find her.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. Sitting in this hall is getting old.¡±

    They left the hall and took a side route to a flight of stairs. Damien had made the trip enough times he hardly thought about it. At least they didn¡¯t have warlords all over the living quarters. Uncle Andy guarded his scant private time zealously.

    ¡°So talk,¡± John said. ¡°Why¡¯s everyone so worked up?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you, but you have to keep it to yourself. Ships were spotted coming from the west.¡±

    ¡°From the Old Empire?¡±

    Damien smiled at the disbelief in his friend¡¯s voice. Not that there was anything funny about the situation. ¡°That¡¯s the assumption. The archmage called me back from The Tower and my guess is we¡¯re going to fly out and see what¡¯s going on.¡±

    ¡°Do you think that¡¯s why they called me in? In case something happened to the princess, poison or an assassin or something?¡±

    ¡°Possible, I guess. I had no idea you¡¯d be here, but it¡¯s good to see you.¡±

    They stopped in front of the door to the royal quarters. Damien knocked and a minute or so later Queen Audra opened the door. ¡°Damien, what a nice surprise. Won¡¯t you come in?¡±

    ¡°I really shouldn¡¯t. I was just playing guide for John.¡±

    ¡°Good morning, Your Majesty.¡± John moved up beside Damien.

    ¡°Hello, John. Damien, I insist you come in for a few minutes. Karrie would be so disappointed if she didn¡¯t get to see you.¡±

    She stepped out of the doorway and Damien had no choice but to enter. He couldn¡¯t exactly tell the queen he was too busy. A few minutes wouldn¡¯t make that much difference, hopefully. ¡°Is Karrie feeling okay?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Oh yes, it¡¯s just Lidia has been so busy lately we thought having a dedicated healer around would be a good idea. Better safe than sorry and all that.¡±

    ¡°John! Damien!¡± Karrie stood in the doorway of her room wearing a frilly pink dress, a big smile on her face. She ran over and hugged them with one arm each. She kissed John on the cheek and stepped back. ¡°If only Jen were here we¡¯d have the gang back together. Come and sit down. I can ring for tea.¡±

    ¡°I really can¡¯t stay. The archmage is waiting for me.¡± Damien and John bumped fists. ¡°Look after everyone for me. I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯ll be gone, but I feel better knowing you¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°Will do. Be careful.¡±

    Karrie had her bottom lip stuck out. ¡°You¡¯re leaving again?¡±

    ¡°For a little while. Don¡¯t worry, Princess, John is much better company than I.¡± Damien offered Audra a little bow and slipped out the door.

 3.11

    Karrie stared at Damien¡¯s back as he left. He¡¯d just left. Left her alone with his best friend without a care in the world. Her plan was seeming more and more dubious by the second. How could she make him jealous if he wasn¡¯t here to watch her cuddling with John?

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you two to catch up.¡± Her mother strolled out of the sitting area and headed back to her sewing room.

    Karrie made a snap decision. She¡¯d bring John in on her plan. He might make a better ally than a simple tool. She tugged the pull rope and a few seconds later when the servant knocked she ordered tea and a tray of snacks for them.

    John stood awkwardly beside his trunk, obviously not certain what he should do. Karrie smiled. ¡°Sit down, please, no need to worry about ceremony here.¡±

    John slumped down on the sofa. ¡°So what¡¯s the deal with you and Damien?¡±

    She stared at him. How did he know? ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not blind. You couldn¡¯t have looked more disappointed when he left.¡±

    Karrie sat beside him. ¡°I¡¯m going to level with you and maybe you can help me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m at your disposal, Princess.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to convince Damien that he should marry me, but I¡¯m not having much luck. He¡¯s either not here or not interested when he is.¡± She sighed. ¡°I was planning on using you to make him jealous. I don¡¯t know how that can work since he won¡¯t be here to see us together.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid your plan is doomed. Damien¡¯s already in love with another. I can¡¯t think of anything that would convince him to move on.¡±

    ¡°I know. He¡¯s fallen for Lane Thorn.¡±

    John cocked his head. ¡°Who¡¯s Lane Thorn?¡±

    ¡°The archmage¡¯s daughter. I thought you said you knew he was in love.¡±

    ¡°I do and he is, but I have no idea who Lane Thorn is. Damien has never mentioned her to me.¡±

    Now Karrie was really confused. A rap on the door gave her a moment to think. She went and collected a tray from one of the servants. Damien did say Lane was just a job, but they¡¯d looked so friendly. Karrie set the tray on the low table in front of the sofa and poured two cups of tea for her and John.

    ¡°If not Lane then who?¡±

    ¡°Lizzenwar. Damien¡¯s been in love with her for as long as I can remember.¡±

    Karrie blinked, more confused now than ever. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the name of his father¡¯s sword?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s also the name of the spirit that lives in the sword. She¡¯s been his friend and companion since Damien was old enough to be aware of other people. Lizzy¡ªthat¡¯s what he calls her¡ªcomforted him when he fought with his father. Held him when he got hurt in training. He¡¯s totally devoted to her.¡±

    ¡°How is that possible? She¡¯s a sword! I¡¯m competing with a sword!¡± Karrie wanted to pull her hair out. It wasn¡¯t fair. When she¡¯d thought Lane was Damien¡¯s lady that was one thing, but a sword? She didn¡¯t know what to do.

    ¡°You need to stop thinking about her as a sword,¡± John said in a soft, calm voice, like someone trying to soothe a horse in danger of bolting. ¡°Damien told me about her once. Lizzy can bring him into her world. He described it as an endless night sky. In that place she¡¯s as real as you or me.¡±

    ¡°You know Damien better than just about anyone. What do I do? I love him so much, but I can¡¯t even get him to look at me that way.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Princess. I doubt there¡¯s anyone or anything in the world that could change Damien¡¯s feelings toward Lizzy.¡± John squeezed her shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s my best friend and when I see how happy he is anytime he mentions her¡­I don¡¯t think I want to try and change his mind.¡±

    Karrie sniffed. So much for making an ally out of John. Heaven¡¯s mercy! She was competing with a sword.

 3.12

    The instant the door closed behind him Damien rushed back to the throne room, drawing the occasional concerned look from a passing servant. The guards opened the doors for him as he approached. Inside, Uncle Andy and the archmage stood together at a table with a map of the Western Ocean. The throne room was empty except for the two of them. He would have expected military strategists at least to be part of the meeting.

    Uncle Andy and his master both looked up as he entered. The king had dark circles under his eyes and pale skin. His clothes were wrinkled and Damien suspected he¡¯d slept in them. His master stared at him with bright, eager eyes. Unlike Uncle Andy it appeared the archmage relished the coming challenge.

    ¡°Where have you been?¡± she asked. ¡°I sensed your soul force earlier then you left again.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Master. I took John up to the royal quarters. I¡¯m glad he¡¯s here. If anything should happen while we¡¯re gone his healing skills will be useful.¡±

    ¡°So you figured out why I called you back. If I¡¯m going to meet with representatives of the Old Empire I want my strongest sorcerer with me.¡±

    ¡°When do we leave?¡±

    ¡°Now.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t do anything aggressive until we hear what they have to say,¡± Uncle Andy said. ¡°Maybe they only wish to establish communication and trade.¡±

    ¡°We won¡¯t attack first, but if the empire only wants to talk and trade I¡¯ll eat my robe. Come on, Damien. Sasha¡¯s waiting for us in Valcane with Admiral McAllan.¡±

    ¡°Sasha?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, High Sorcerer of the West. I need to introduce you to them one of these days so you¡¯ll know who I¡¯m talking about. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°Be careful, both of you,¡± Uncle Andy said. ¡°The kingdom can ill afford to lose either of you.¡±

    Damien followed his master out of the throne room and into the courtyard. The archmage conjured an eagle with a high-backed chair growing between its wings. She levitated up into the chair and the eagle lashed its wings, rushing skyward. Damien simply leapt up beside her and flew on his own without a steed.

    The eagle turned west and a little south and soared along at about half of Damien¡¯s top speed toward Port Valcane. Damien had never been to the ocean before and despite the situation he was eager to see the vast expanse of water. Jen had told him about it of course, but hearing about it and seeing it were two different things.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Damien accelerated up beside his master. ¡°Do the admiral or high sorcerer have any thoughts about the approaching ships?¡±

    ¡°They have lots of ideas. None of them particularly useful. The admiral wants to sail our meager fleet out and sink the ships before they get close to the kingdom. That¡¯s what he says anyway, but the truth is he¡¯s never had a real naval battle and he thinks this is his chance. Sasha wants to send sorcerers out to do basically the same thing.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t they curious what the imperials have to say? I mean, we haven¡¯t had contact with the Old Empire in over four hundred years. We can hardly judge them by the actions of their ancestors.¡±

    The archmage smiled and shook her head. ¡°Just when I think I have you a little bit figured out you say something that surprises me. You¡¯re right, of course. We need to talk to them even if it¡¯s just to see what the empire intends. After we talk we can decide whether to sink them.¡±

    They flew southwest for most of the day. The temperature gradually warmed as they neared the ocean. The port sprawled for at least a mile along the coast. Damien¡¯s eyes went wide at the sight of the sun sinking into the endless expanse of blue. Oranges and purples danced on the water. He¡¯d seldom seen anything so beautiful. He only wished he could have shared it with Lizzy. He soaked up every detail so when he saw her again he could show her the memory.

    The archmage¡¯s eagle descended toward the city. Damien forced himself to look away and follow. She guided her mount to the docks. A huge stone-and-timber fort sat at the northern edge of the city, right on the water. It had its own docks and six three-masted sailing ships bobbed in their slips. Was that the extent of the kingdom¡¯s fleet?

    The eagle settled inside the wall twenty feet from the keep. The archmage flew down from her mount and Damien landed beside her. A small door beside the keep¡¯s main door opened and two people emerged, a man with a drooping white mustache, blue-and-silver uniform, and a short curved cutlass at his hip. A step behind him came a broad-shouldered woman in blue robes with long white hair. Damien stayed a step behind his master, not certain how formal the meeting would be.

    ¡°Admiral McAllen, Sasha.¡± The archmage inclined her head a fraction. ¡°No new reports I assume.¡±

    The high mage nodded back. ¡°Lidia. No, we¡¯ve heard nothing new from Lookout Island.¡±

    ¡°My fleet stands ready to attack at the king¡¯s command.¡± The admiral had a gruff, blustery way that bordered on comical. Not that Damien so much as twitched while the others talked. He had no place in this conversation. Better to keep silent.

    ¡°His Majesty appreciates the thought, but he prefers to try and make peaceful contact before resorting to violence. My apprentice and I will be flying out to meet them in the morning.¡±

    ¡°Just the two of you?¡± Admiral McAllen looked at the archmage then at Damien, then back. ¡°Is that prudent?¡±

    ¡°I think we¡¯ll be okay, Ken. Damien¡¯s stronger than he looks.¡±

    Sasha turned her gaze on him. ¡°The demon slayer. I¡¯ve heard so much about you. You gave one of the most impressive displays we¡¯ve seen in the final test in many years.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, High Sorcerer.¡± Damien bowed.

    ¡°And polite as well. Is there no end to your gifts?¡±

    Damien didn¡¯t know if she was mocking him or teasing him. He¡¯d noticed most sorcerers seemed unable to remain serious for long periods. He didn¡¯t know if having so much power made them careless or if they all just suffered from the same character flaws. Either way he wasn¡¯t stupid enough to rise to the bait.

    ¡°Enough, Sasha.¡± His master appeared especially short on patience this evening. ¡°We need rooms. I, for one, am exhausted. We¡¯ll need all our wits for tomorrow.¡±

 3.13

    After days of exploring every inch of the pyramid, the black stone walls all began to look the same to Connor. Though he hated to admit it, doubt had begun to seep into his mind. The artifact he sought might not be hidden in this particular pyramid after all. Maybe he¡¯d gotten his hopes too high. According to his research ten pyramids circled the haunted lands. That made the odds of any given pyramid being the one he sought quite long.

    Connor left the hall he¡¯d just searched for the fifth time and returned to the central chamber. A red-stained iron cauldron sat in the center of the room, directly beneath a hole in the ceiling. All the blood channels in the roof¡¯s altar drained through that hole and the blood and life force of the sacrifices gathered in the cauldron.

    He ran a finger around the rim of the iron vessel. Dried blood flaked up like rust. How many lives had drained into it over the years, the decades? People called the former ruler of the haunted lands the Mad King, but Xanatos Alexious VI wasn¡¯t mad; he was a genius. A genius determined to live forever and with the will to make it happen. Connor admired that determination, admired everything about the great king.

    Many people wanted things that were hard to accomplish and they gave up, believing them impossible. King Alexious found a way. Granted, a case could be made that murdering the population of half the continent wasn¡¯t an acceptable method to gain what he wanted. If the scattered records Connor had read were accurate, many of his people objected, violently, to being used as fuel for the single largest feat of sorcery in history.

    Those people served as the first sacrifices.

    Connor sighed. Another fact his research had turned up: King Alexious hadn¡¯t intended to stop with just half the continent. He¡¯d intended to sacrifice all life in the wild lands beyond the mountains, in what was now the kingdom, along with his lands to the east.

    The savage tribes of goblins and ogres that infested the kingdom before the colonists¡¯ arrival held the pass while the Ice Queen sent her armies south. King Alexious had been forced to activate the ritual before he¡¯d completed his preparations and only managed to do the job half way. Connor intended to finish the task and take his place beside King Alexious at the Horned One¡¯s side.

    Connor hissed when an iron spur sliced his finger. His fresh blood glistened on the rim of the cauldron. A flicker of power awakened and a ruddy glow filled the chamber. Connor backed away from the cauldron and gathered his power. He had no idea what might happen next and didn¡¯t intend to be taken by surprise.

    The room shook and a beam of corrupt black energy shot up from the empty cauldron. When the anti-light vanished the cauldron slid back, revealing a set of stairs leading down into hidden chambers below the pyramid. The meager light from the entrance didn¡¯t reach into those stygian depths. His enhanced sight allowed him to see in near darkness, but in the absolute absence of light below the pyramid even Connor needed light.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    Though it seemed a sacrilege, Connor conjured a glowing globe and sent it down ahead of him. He paused a moment to make certain his binding on the demon guardian still held firm and it did. Connor didn¡¯t need the creature breaking free and attacking him in the catacombs where he had no hope of escaping.

    Connor¡¯s heart raced and sweat beaded on his neck as he descended into catacombs that hadn¡¯t seen the passage of a human being in over a thousand years. What wonders or horrors or both lurked below? Like a child on solstice morning he hurried down, eager to discover what gifts awaited.

    At the bottom of the steps a single vast room spread out in all directions. Shelves filled with books and artifacts lined three walls. Two large stone tables tried and failed to fill the otherwise empty space. It resembled his library writ large. Connor ran to the closest shelf and reached for a tome bound in black leather. His eager fingers stopped inches from the thick volume. Keen though he was, Connor wasn¡¯t stupid enough to touch anything in this place without first checking for traps.

    Streamers of black soul force shot out in all directions, brushing over everything in the room. The books all had a thin coating of some poison Connor didn¡¯t recognize. The artifacts were charged with demonic energy that would kill any normal human that touched them. Lucky for Connor he wasn¡¯t a normal human. His seeking tendrils found a small oval depression in the blank wall.

    He rushed over to the little divot. No poison or lethal energy protected the oblong depression. He ran loving fingers over the smooth stone. This had to be what he sought.

    Connor slipped the amulet from around his neck and pressed it into the oval. It fit perfectly. Another rumble shook the pyramid as a portion of the wall slid aside revealing a two-foot-square mirror of black glass. Clouds swirled in the depths of the mirror and slowly a face resolved. Cold and arrogant, with a hooked nose and eyes as crimson as Connor¡¯s own, the face offered a disdainful sniff.

    ¡°Name yourself, boy.¡±

    Connor stiffened at the insult. ¡°I am no boy and I don¡¯t take orders from spirits. If you want my name, share yours first.¡±

    A faint smile curled the spirit¡¯s thin lips. ¡°You¡¯ve got a spine at least. I am Dominicus Lucious, governor of the western provinces. I dared speak against our king and his plans. This is my reward.¡±

    ¡°My name is Connor Blackman. Tell me of King Alexious¡¯s backup plan in the event the ritual failed.¡±

    ¡°Backup plan? Our lunatic ruler had so many plans you can¡¯t even begin to imagine. If you wish to know about one in particular you¡¯ll need to offer more than that.¡±

    Connor ground his teeth. If he had more to offer he wouldn¡¯t need the spirit¡¯s help. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything else. It took me years to piece together what little I do know. The journals and histories mention a backup plan in case the grand conjuring failed. No specifics or other useful information.¡±

    Dominicus nodded. ¡°I heard of a plan, perhaps the one you speak of, but as I was not one of the king¡¯s favorites I know little more than you. My spies in the palace spoke of a demon army marching to war and consuming everything in their path. How he planned to accomplish the summoning I don¡¯t know.¡±

    It took all Connor¡¯s self-control not to smash the mirror to shards. What had he expected? That a regional governor, a man obviously an enemy of the king, would be privy to any of his deep secrets? The information he needed lay elsewhere, perhaps in the pages of the many books lining the wall.

    It would take time, a great deal of time, but Connor had no other choice. He covered his hands with a thin soul force barrier, grabbed a book, and settled in to read.

 3.14

    Damien joined his master on the wall surrounding the navy fort. Dawn had come and gone not long ago. The archmage stood silent in the cool morning breeze, her blood-red robes swirling around her, her gaze traveling over the ocean. She made no comment when he moved to stand beside her. Damien closed his eyes and breathed deep, enjoying the salt air and the crash of waves on the breakers. He¡¯d slept well. His thin cot left much to be desired, but a little conjuring had taken care of it.

    ¡°Shall we head out, Master?¡±

    She turned to face.The circles under her eyes looked dark than usual this morning. Had she gotten any sleep?

    ¡°I suppose we should. Are you ready, Damien?¡±

    ¡°I believe so, Master. All I¡¯m supposed to do is stand beside you and watch for potential attacks, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but just because the job is simple doesn¡¯t make it easy. The histories say imperial sorcerers were known for their subtle conjuring.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps Mistress Sasha should join us. Three pairs of eyes are better than two.¡±

    ¡°I considered that, but I don¡¯t want to risk three of the kingdom¡¯s most powerful sorcerers at once. If, heaven forbid, something happens to us, the king will need all his high sorcerers to help deal with the empire. No, it¡¯s just you and me, Damien.¡±

    He smiled and patted her back. ¡°We¡¯ll be enough, Master. I¡¯ll bring you back to Lane safe and sound, never fear.¡±

    The archmage laughed and Damien feared he had offended her. ¡°My daughter said you were an odd combination of sweet and tough. I begin to understand what she meant. Enough lollygagging.¡±

    The archmage conjured her eagle in front of the wall and leapt onto its back. They flew west together at a good clip. Lookout Island waited about two hundred miles off the coast and they reached it an hour later with no difficulties. The island was fair sized, but not huge. A wooden fort surrounded by a log palisade had been built on the north edge. A dock jutted out into the ocean for supply ships. Damien and his master landed there.

    Her eagle had barely vanished when a wild-haired man in his sixties burst from the gate of the fort and strode toward them. He wore ragged canvas pants and a torn, gray tunic. He waved as he approached like they couldn¡¯t see him otherwise. Damien saw no soul force, which meant the man was a sorcerer. That shouldn¡¯t have surprised Damien. It seemed sorcerers ran the gamut from ¡°a little off¡± to ¡°complete nut.¡± This guy looked like the nut had struck him on the head.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°Lidia, what took you so long? Damn ships show no sign of changing course. What are we gong to do?¡±

    ¡°Isaac, relax. My apprentice and I are flying out there just as soon as we get a first-hand account of what we¡¯re dealing with.¡±

    Isaac turned intense blue eyes on Damien. ¡°And who might you be?¡±

    ¡°Damien St. Cloud, sir.¡± Damien bowed to the eccentric sorcerer.

    ¡°The demon slayer? My apprentice mentioned you. I believe you were yearmates.¡±

    Damien winced at the demon slayer announcement. Even out here they knew about that? ¡°You¡¯re Jaden¡¯s mentor?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right. He¡¯s the one that first spotted the ships. Come on, you two have a lot to talk about and we can have something to drink.¡± Master Isaac spun and marched back the way he¡¯d come.

    Damien glanced at his master. ¡°How long has he been on this island?¡±

    The archmage fought a smile and lost. ¡°Isaac¡¯s been here close to forty years. He¡¯s never returned to the mainland since he was first posted.¡±

    ¡°That explains it.¡±

    The interior of the fort was basic, but comfortable. Each person had a cot and footlocker except one hammock, and Damien had a fair idea who that belonged to. The warlords stood at attention when the archmage entered and fled the moment she dismissed them. Jaden sat by himself at the long, rough-hewn table, looking for all the world like he wished he could escape with the warlords.

    ¡°Hey, how¡¯s island life agreeing with you?¡± Damien asked.

    Jaden managed a weak smile. ¡°It was great until those ships showed up. It¡¯s been crazy ever since.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully the archmage can straighten everything out and you¡¯ll be free of us. Don¡¯t worry, she doesn¡¯t bite.¡±

    The archmage sat facing a faintly trembling Jaden. ¡°Tell me about the ships.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s four of them, each with three masts. Each has a ballista mounted in the front. I didn¡¯t get close enough to make out any details. As far as I can tell their course hasn¡¯t veered more than a few degrees since we first spotted them.¡±

    ¡°How about sorcerers or warlords?¡±

    ¡°No, ma¡¯am, but like I said I didn¡¯t get that close.¡±

    ¡°What about flags or heraldry?¡±

    Jaden frowned. ¡°The lead ship had a pennant flapping from its highest mast. It was red, with crossed spears or pikes maybe.¡±

    The archmage nodded. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    She got up and headed for the door leaving Jaden slumped in his chair. Damien grinned and waved to his nervous friend before following his master out of the fort. She stopped on the dock and tapped her toe.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t especially informative,¡± he said.

    ¡°In one sense it was.¡± Her toe stopped. ¡°I studied a book of Old Empire heraldry before we left. What he described resembles no known imperial design. At least none in our records.¡±

    ¡°Well, those records are almost five hundred years old. I imagine all sorts of things might have changed in that much time.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. I had hoped to gain some hint of who we were dealing with, but it seems we¡¯re going in blind.¡±

 3.15

    Lon Shen flew north through the cold, clear sky on the back of his golden griffin. According to Thomas¡¯s information Kat Gentul served at an observation post ten miles south of the northern border. Lon had no idea what the woman would have to say about Connor Blackman. Maybe he¡¯d get lucky and she¡¯d mention a secret place he bragged about.

    Right. Nothing was ever that simple.

    To say he¡¯d been surprised when Thomas called him into his office and explained his next mission would be an understatement. If his mission came as a surprise the announcement that ships from the Old Empire were sailing toward the kingdom stunned him. It made perfect sense that the archmage would want Damien with her. Having seen the boy¡¯s power Lon would have wanted him along as well. Hopefully nothing would come of it, but no one Lon had spoken to seemed optimistic.

    Below him a vast expanse of white dotted with green spread out in every direction. Though spring had come in the south, up here winter still held sway. At least the Ice Queen hadn¡¯t sent any more monsters south. After the slaughter four months ago it would take a while for her to rebuild her forces. He sent a silent prayer to any archangel willing to listen that his generation, and hopefully the next, wouldn¡¯t have to deal with another invasion.

    A little ways ahead a gray tower jutted up from the snowy expanse. Smoke rose from a chimney poking out the roof. At least someone was home. He circled once and frowned. Something was moving maybe a quarter mile out from the tower. Something that blended in with the snow, and from the feel of their soul force not human either. Maybe some ogres or trolls that survived the battle had decided to try their luck on this side of the border.

    He conjured a sphere of energy and hurled it at the approaching figures. It hit the ground and detonated, sending snow and bodies flying. One of the monsters struck a tree and flickered, turning a greenish black. Before it disappeared Lon made out scales, an elongated jaw, and a tail. Crimson, hate-filled eyes glared at him a moment before the creature shimmered and turned white again.

    The shutters covering a narrow window high up on the tower opened and a confused-looking woman poked her head out, her tousled red hair sticking up every which way. She looked down at the spot where his sphere detonated then up at Lon. He descended and had his mount hover outside her window. Up close the woman seemed far younger than he¡¯d first thought.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± the girl asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re about to have company. I¡¯ll meet you on the ground.¡± Lon flew down, leaving the semi-coherent girl staring at him.

    He hoped she hurried. Lon really didn¡¯t want to be on the ground, out in the open, when those creatures arrived. Half a minute later the heavy oak door swung open. The girl had picked up an older companion, a tall, dark-skinned woman who looked little more than skin and bones. From the description he had, that would be Kat Gentul.

    Lon bowed. ¡°Ladies, Lon Shen at your service. Can we speak inside? There are evil-looking creatures on their way to pay you a visit.¡±

    Kat moved aside and he scooted by her. Beside Kat the redhead glared. Kat slammed a heavy bar in place to lock the door. ¡°So what are you doing here?¡± Kat asked.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± the girl added for emphasis.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Kat frowned at the girl. ¡°Amanda, return to your post and watch for Master Shen¡¯s visitors.¡±

    ¡°Aww, come on. This is the first interesting thing that¡¯s happened since I arrived.¡±

    Kat pointed at the stairs on the rear wall, silent and implacable. The sullen girl stomped across the room and up the stairs. When she¡¯d gone Kat said, ¡°The masters asked me to take the girl on to teach her patience. Amanda¡¯s not thrilled with her assignment.¡±

    ¡°No kidding. Kat Gentul, I assume?¡± Lon held out his hand.

    They shook. ¡°How did you know?¡±

    ¡°Thomas told me you were assigned here and asked me to come talk to you. We were hoping you could tell us something about Connor Blackman.¡±

    She flinched back. ¡°No one¡¯s seen any sign of Connor in years.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately that¡¯s no longer the case. He¡¯s emerged from hiding as a warlock and he appears to mean the kingdom harm. Anything you can think of, about what he¡¯s planning or where he might be hiding, would be valuable.¡±

    Kat shook her head. Before she could speak something heavy slammed into the door.

    ¡°Master!¡± Amanda shouted from above.

    Kat and Lon shared a look and raced up the steps. On the third floor the girl had her head and shoulders thrust out the window.

    Kat grabbed her and yanked her back inside. ¡°How many times have I told you not to do that?¡±

    ¡°I forgot. Anyway, if I don¡¯t stick my head out I can¡¯t see the lizard things trying to smash down the door. Can I blast them?¡±

    Kat growled deep in the back of her throat and thrust Amanda aside. Kat poked her head out a little ways, swore and ducked back in. ¡°Take a look.¡±

    Lon took her place and peeked outside. Six of the black-scaled monsters stood in a semicircle facing the door while a seventh, bigger creature pounded it with a fist the size of Lon¡¯s head. Corruption ran through the creatures¡¯ bodies, but they didn¡¯t appear to have a core of power to draw on. Not demons then, but if not demons then what?

    ¡°Have you ever seen such creatures out here before?¡± Lon asked.

    Kat shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ve never even heard of things like them. Just looking at them I wouldn¡¯t guess they belonged in a cold area.¡±

    ¡°Let me blast them,¡± Amanda said.

    Lon followed Kat¡¯s lead and ignored the girl. ¡°Their aura is corrupt. That probably gives them the strength to function in any environment.¡±

    Lon sensed Amanda drawing on her soul force, but he turned too late to stop her from dropping an energy blast on the monsters¡¯ heads. The golden energy streaked down. Lon braced himself, but nothing happened.

    Kat grabbed Amanda by the arm and yanked her away from the window. ¡°Idiot! Did I give you permission to attack?¡±

    Lon looked out, curious to discover how much damage she¡¯d inflicted. No crater marked the snow and no bodies lay broken around the base of the tower. One of the monsters glowed with power, its core full.

    Behind him Kat continued to dress down her apprentice. Lon tuned them out and focused on the energized monster. It looked like the creature had absorbed Amanda¡¯s attack. The glowing monster brushed its larger cousin aside and struck the door. The crunch was audible from the third floor.

    Kat stopped yelling at Amanda and turned to Lon. ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°The front door. We need to go, now.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± Kat asked. ¡°We can¡¯t fit through the window and the door¡¯s blocked.¡±

    Lon stepped back and blasted a hole in the wall. ¡°Sometimes violence is the answer.¡±

    Another crunch from downstairs.

    ¡°Hurry,¡± Lon said.

    The click of toenails on stone reached them a moment ahead of the monster.

    Kat and Amanda leapt out the hole and flew a safe distance into the sky. Lon followed a moment later. Three hundred feet above the tower Lon sat on his griffin and Kat and Amanda stood on a glowing platform.

    Amanda rubbed her hands. ¡°We can blast them from here.¡±

    Kat grabbed the scruff of the girl¡¯s neck and shook her. ¡°If you draw a drop of soul force without my permission, so help me I¡¯ll feed you to those things. What happened?¡±

    The last was addressed to Lon. ¡°They¡¯re soul force eaters. I¡¯ve read about them, but never imagined I¡¯d see one. That monster absorbed Amanda¡¯s blast and used the extra power to batter down the door. Those things are the perfect tool for killing sorcerers.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but where did they come from?¡± Amanda asked. She had the good grace to look abashed at almost getting them all killed.

    ¡°That, my dear, is an excellent question.¡±

 3.16

    Lon brought his griffin down on the dirt patch inside The Citadel wall. He¡¯d left Kat and Amanda at The Tower to make a full report to Thomas. Though eager to find David Weks, Connor¡¯s other yearmate, he needed to speak to Fredric first. He strode past the students enjoying the warm afternoon sun while doing their forms in the yard and hurried up the steps to the main gate.

    He took the right-hand passage down to Fredric¡¯s office. If he didn¡¯t find the commandant there he¡¯d have to go hunting for him and Lon really didn¡¯t want to waste that much time. Fredric¡¯s door was closed and the gold shield nailed to it polished to a mirror shine. Lon crossed his fingers and knocked.

    ¡°Enter.¡±

    Finally a bit of good luck. He pushed the door open and smiled to find Jennifer standing in front of the desk, her hands clasped behind her back. She wore the sword Damien had made for her, his soul force pulsing from the hilt in time to her heart.

    ¡°Lon, this is a surprise.¡± Fredric stood and the two men shook hands. ¡°What brings you to The Citadel?¡±

    ¡°I have two missions that require warlords, a hard one and a really hard one.¡±

    Fredric sat back down and gestured to the empty chair. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me about it?¡±

    Lon sat and filled him in on what had happened. ¡°So I need a team to come with me to meet David. I have no idea if more soul force eaters will show up, but I mean to be ready. It¡¯s certainly within the realm of possibility that Connor sent the monsters to kill anyone that might know something about him. Not that Kat did, in fact, know anything. The second group needs to hunt down the monsters near the border. Since I doubt they¡¯ll hang around the lookout, that will be the harder task, if it¡¯s even possible.¡±

    ¡°So you got stuck finishing my son¡¯s work.¡± Fredric shook his head.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t Damien¡¯s fault. When the archmage summons you, you go.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Fredric grunted.

    ¡°I volunteer to take my squad to the border,¡± Jen said.

    ¡°Actually, I hoped you and your team would come with me,¡± Lon said. ¡°Truth is, I doubt anyone will find the first bunch of monsters and if a second group attacks David, I¡¯d prefer to have a team whose abilities I know beside me.¡±

    Fredric nodded. ¡°Good idea. I have people in the northern army that can check out the watch post. They¡¯ll be more familiar with the territory so they¡¯ll have a better chance of finding the creatures. Prepare your squad.¡±

    Jen saluted and marched toward the door.

    ¡°I¡¯ll meet you in the courtyard,¡± Lon said. ¡°No need to bother with horses, we¡¯ll be traveling a good ways.¡±

    Jen grinned back at him. ¡°Edward will be thrilled.¡±

    When she¡¯d gone Fredric said, ¡°How is Damien faring?¡±

    ¡°Fine. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen the reports. I haven¡¯t actually spoken to him since he started serving with the archmage.¡±

    ¡°I have read the reports and I¡¯m afraid it all might be too much for a sixteen-year-old boy to handle. She sent him virtually alone into a nest of vipers on the southern border.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m told he acquitted himself brilliantly. Young as he is, Damien is already a masterful sorcerer. You need to stop seeing the boy who failed at being a warlord and start seeing the amazing sorcerer he¡¯s become.¡±

    Fredric shook his head again. ¡°Far easier said than done.¡±

    Lon left his old friend to brood and went out to the courtyard. He found Jen and her team waiting. A golden chariot appeared as he walked down the steps. Edward turned green as it formed.

    Everyone climbed aboard and Lon took his place at the front. David was stationed in the east, in a village not far from the Barrier Mountains. He served as an assistant to the local lord, handling healing and interrogations, helping out with the occasional bandit raid, that sort of thing. According to the report, David wasn¡¯t anything special as far as power went, but he had a solid reputation for getting his missions done.

    They left The Citadel behind and Jen asked, ¡°So what are we dealing with if these things do show up?¡±

    The rest of the squad, save Edward who had his head over the side of the chariot, leaned closer.

    ¡°The ones up north had a reptilian appearance, but that doesn¡¯t mean much. Warlocks create them from a unique sort of demon called a Hungerer. They have no soul force of their own beyond what all living things have to stay alive. As long as no one attacks them with external soul force they shouldn¡¯t pose much of a threat to you. You need to be careful they don¡¯t stick their claws or fangs into your flesh. If they do they can draw out even internal soul force.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± Talon muttered. ¡°Yet another thing iron skin is useless against.¡±

 3.17

    ¡°That can¡¯t be good.¡± Jen pointed at a thick column of smoke rising just ahead of them.

    Lon couldn¡¯t argue with that. They¡¯d been flying for two hours and unless he¡¯d miscalculated the smoke came from the village where he expected to find David. Though he was sure his mission could have gone worse, he had trouble thinking how.

    As they drew closer the roofs of flaming buildings came into view. It looked like most of the town was on fire. People were running around shouting. One group had formed a bucket brigade that fought in vain to save a sprawling, two-story building that had the look of an inn.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± Jen asked.

    The buildings were too far gone to save and they had a mission. Much as Lon wished to help the villagers, he or the warlords could do nothing. ¡°We need to find David.¡±

    Lon guided the chariot toward the center of town. One of the few buildings not burning and the only one made of stone was the town hall. More creatures surrounded it. They were different from the ones that attacked the watch post. This bunch sported red scales and long, whip-like tails. One of the monsters thrust its head forward, jaws agape. Flames blasted the charred door, but it didn¡¯t catch.

    ¡°We¡¯ll handle them.¡± Jen grabbed the side of the chariot.

    ¡°Wait.¡± Lon guided the chariot over the roof of the town hall. A gaping hole revealed a collection of timbers and shingles scattered all over a red carpet. ¡°Something¡¯s inside already.¡±

    Lon transformed the chariot into a bubble and lowered them through the hole. They landed and he let the bubble vanish. The warlords drew their weapons and formed a circle around him.

    ¡°Talon, which way?¡± Jen asked.

    The lean, wiry warlord studied the debris. While he worked Jen asked, ¡°How did you know they were inside?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t. I just wanted to check before we attacked the ones outside. It wouldn¡¯t make much sense to kill the monsters outside if some had gotten inside already.¡±

    ¡°Captain, I got something. One of them must have cut itself on the glass. There¡¯s a blood trail heading deeper into the building and it¡¯s fresh. Fifteen minutes, tops.¡±

    ¡°Good work, Talon. You¡¯re on point. Alec, watch our backs. Edward and Rhys, with me. Let¡¯s move.¡±

    Lon debated surrounding himself with a barrier and decided against it. They jogged down the hall, glass crunching under their boots. Once they moved away from the hole it looked like nothing had been damaged or disturbed. Landscapes and portraits decorated the walls. The further they moved away from the hole the darker it became. Lon wanted to conjure a light, but feared the soul force eaters might sense it.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    If the gloom caused the warlords any trouble they gave no sign of it. Lon enjoyed using sorcery, but sometimes it would be handy to give himself night vision.

    A crash followed by a scream came from down the hall.

    Edward cocked his head. ¡°That was close by.¡±

    ¡°Move it!¡± Jen said.

    They ran toward the noise. A door blocked their path and Talon kicked it off its hinges. Inside was a meeting hall. A score of benches, most of them tipped over and broken, filled an open room. At the far end a raised platform with a chair for the lord faced the benches. Between the platform and benches five of the black-scaled monsters stood over a bleeding, almost-dead man. On either side of them five more badly mauled corpses lay on the floor.

    ¡°One of them¡¯s still alive,¡± Lon said.

    ¡°Leave the monsters to us.¡± Jen took a step then seemed to vanish.

    The others accelerated to match her speed. One of the lizard creatures went flying. It slammed into the wall then bounced up, a shallow gash on its arm. A few seconds later the rest were forced away from the dying man.

    Lon rushed over and called up healing soul force. He knelt down and immediately looked away. The monsters had bitten half his face off. Lon poured power into the unfortunate man¡¯s chest, trying to close the most pressing wounds first. All around him the clash of steel on scale filled the air.

    It took all his concentration to seal up the mass of wounds on the injured man. He had to trust Jen and her team to keep him safe.

    Lon sealed the last damaged leaking vein in his patient¡¯s chest and looked up in time to see a black-scaled body three feet away.

    He staggered back.

    The monster opened its mouth.

    An instant later the tip of a long blade burst from its open maw. Jen shoved the beast to the ground and ripped her weapon free.

    ¡°That¡¯s the last of them,¡± she said.

    Lon wiped the sweat from his brow. That had been far too close.

    ¡°How is he?¡± She nodded at the still-unconscious man.

    ¡°Alive, though I¡¯m not certain if that¡¯s a blessing or curse. Keep watch, please. I need to return to healing.¡±

    Lon worked nonstop for an hour, sealing veins, mending flesh, and using every trick he¡¯d learned to keep the patient alive. He hardly got one thing fixed when something else burst. At last, his soul force virtually depleted, a vein he thought he¡¯d fixed ruptured again.

    He had nothing left to seal it. Lon pressed his hand to the gushing wound, trying to slow it enough that his power could recover. The man¡¯s heart stopped before he could close the vein.

    Lon sat back, covered in blood. He¡¯d failed.

    Someone patted his back. He glanced over and found Jen crouched beside him. ¡°You can¡¯t win ¡¯em all. Is that our guy?¡±

    Lon looked at the dead man¡¯s ruined face and quickly looked away. ¡°I can¡¯t tell. Wait. The description I received said David was known to wear a ring with his family¡¯s crest, a red sword crossed over a black shield.¡±

    Lon looked down. No ring graced the dead man¡¯s hand. He sighed. It wasn¡¯t David. ¡°Could you check the other bodies for me?¡±

    Jen nodded. She came back a minute later and held out her hand. ¡°Like this?¡±

    Lon opened his tired eyes. The gold ring in her hand had the right crest. ¡°Damn it! The body?¡±

    ¡°He was in worse shape than this guy.¡± She set the ring beside him. ¡°Sorry. We¡¯re going out front to deal with those fire breathers.¡±

    Lon stood up and pocketed the ring. ¡°Wait for me. I find I have some anger I need to work off.¡±

 3.18

    Once again Damien found himself flying out over the ocean. This time he was too focused on the mission to enjoy it. The archmage flew beside him, not bothering with her eagle for such a relatively short trip. Her shoulders were hunched up around her neck and she was clenching her fists and jaw. His master¡¯s anxiety leached into Damien and he kept forcing himself to take deep breaths. He needed to be calm and focused, not jumpy.

    Damien moved up beside her. ¡°If you don¡¯t relax you¡¯ll break your teeth.¡±

    With a visible effort she relaxed her posture. ¡°Happy?¡±

    To Damien¡¯s surprise he found he was a little happy. ¡°You know, this is the first time we¡¯ve gone on a mission like a proper master and apprentice.¡±

    She looked over at him and the fierce scowl eased a little. ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought about it. I guess I don¡¯t make a very good master, sending you out on missions by yourself.¡±

    Damien waved a hand. ¡°I don¡¯t mind. It¡¯s just I¡¯m interested to learn how the other students feel, watching a more experienced sorcerer work.¡±

    The scowl returned, but with a mocking twist. ¡°Are you calling me old?¡±

    Damien grinned. All the tension had gone out of her. ¡°Perish the thought.¡±

    They shared a laugh then turned their attention to the matter at hand. The sorcerer keeping watch on the ships hung in the sky half a mile ahead, a multilayer construct in front of him. He must have sensed their approach as he turned to face them the instant they stopped. The young man bowed to the archmage and nodded to Damien. He looked of an age with Jaden and Damien, but Damien didn¡¯t remember him from The Tower.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am, they haven¡¯t changed course or slowed. I haven¡¯t seen any activity beyond what you¡¯d expect for a sailing ship.¡±

    ¡°Where are they?¡± the archmage asked.

    He pointed west and a hair north. Damien squinted, but couldn¡¯t make anything out. The construct he saw earlier must have been the far-seer Jaden had been so eager to learn how to make.

    ¡°Keep watch and if anything should go wrong send a message to High Sorcerer Sasha in Valcane.¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± the sorcerer said.

    ¡°Ready, Damien?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±

    The archmage flew toward the ships. Damien strengthened his shield and his master followed suit. A minute later the four ships came into view. As they soared closer Damien made out more detail. Built from dark wood and sporting three masts like Jaden had said, the ships were bigger than the ones tied up at the navy dock back in Valcane. Men stood in the ropes and pointed at Damien and his master as they approached. In the center of each ship a big brick oven with a soot-blackened chimney jutted out. He¡¯d never heard of such a thing on a ship and couldn¡¯t imagine its purpose. Perhaps the sailors liked fresh bread. A little closer and the stench of rotten meat filled the air.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Standing in a raised area at the front of the lead ship, beside the unloaded ballista, a bald man in billowing white trousers and shirt waved at them. The archmage flew down until she was hovering even with the waving man.

    He beamed at them. ¡°Hello! Welcome to the whaling vessel Longshot. Please come aboard.¡±

    The archmage landed beside the sailor and Damien joined her. If this fellow was a representative of the empire Damien would swim back to Lookout Island.

    ¡°May I offer you food, drink?¡± the sailor asked.

    ¡°No, thank you. Are you the captain of this vessel?¡±

    ¡°I am. Anton Velco at your service. Please call me Anton. You are from the Lost Colony, yes?¡±

    ¡°We haven¡¯t been a colony for many years, but yes, we¡¯re from the kingdom. I¡¯m Archmage Lidia Thorn.¡± She nodded toward Damien. ¡°My apprentice.¡±

    He nodded but remained silent. If his master didn¡¯t want these people to know his name Damien wouldn¡¯t enlighten them.

    ¡°Are you representing the empire or have you crossed the ocean for your own purposes?¡±

    Velco threw back his head and laughed. ¡°The empire? There is no empire. A dozen factions circle and spit at each other like angry cats, leaving the rest of us to survive as best we can.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯ve come for your own purposes. I¡¯d be interested to know what could convince several hundred people to cross the vast ocean in hopes of finding something you weren¡¯t even certain existed.¡±

    Some of Velco¡¯s good nature dried up. ¡°I¡¯m not certain it¡¯s any of your concern.¡±

    A slender woman with long dark hair and pale skin came up from the lower deck. She wore flowing blue robes that swirled in the ocean breeze. Damien detected no soul force so she had to be a sorcerer. She whispered in Velco¡¯s ear and he nodded once. The woman stepped away, but remained on the platform.

    ¡°I apologize for the interruption.¡±

    The archmage waved her hand in dismissal. ¡°You were about to tell us why you crossed the ocean.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not certain I was. What business is it of yours?¡±

    ¡°My king has dispatched us to discover your purpose. You may tell us or turn around. Refuse to speak and continue on your present course and I¡¯ll be forced to consider you an enemy. Enemy ships go to the bottom of the ocean.¡±

    Velco laughed again. ¡°I think we have you a bit outnumbered.¡±

    Behind him the sorcerer drew on her power, sending her robes flapping and surrounding herself with a blue aura. Power crackled around her hands and her eyes glowed. She was fairly strong, but not extraordinary.

    ¡°As you can see we have our own sorcerers.¡±

    The archmage glanced back. ¡°Damien.¡±

    He knew at once what she wanted. Damien drew deep from his core. Golden power crackled around him. The deck planks vibrated and several nails popped loose. Even the ocean below trembled. The female sorcerer took a step back, her blue eyes wide.

    ¡°If you wish to go down this road I believe we can accommodate you,¡± his master said.

    The opposing sorcerer hurried over and whispered in her captain¡¯s ear. He said something back and she nodded. Her aura vanished and the captain heaved a great sigh. ¡°Very well. We wish to resupply in your kingdom. Our intention is to slay the Leviathan.¡±

    Damien gaped. Of the five dragons, all the books regarded the Leviathan as the strongest. Sailors called the mighty sea serpent the god of the ocean. Having seen how badly even a weak dragon overmatched him, Damien couldn¡¯t imagine how Velco might harm such a creature, much less slay it. If he had another hundred sorcerers in his service it wouldn¡¯t be enough. He absorbed his power and relaxed. He didn¡¯t need to fight these fools. They intended to destroy themselves.

    His master must have had the same idea. ¡°If you wish to commit suicide you¡¯ve chosen an interesting method. Your odds of survival would be better if you turned around without resupply.¡±

    ¡°We know some tricks on our side of the ocean that you may not. I¡¯m convinced we can accomplish the task. Are you satisfied? May we purchase supplies in your kingdom?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take your petition to the king, but I foresee no difficulties. Why should your gold sink along with your ships? My apprentice will guide you to our lookout post in case I don¡¯t return before.¡± The archmage turned to Damien. ¡°Don¡¯t let them sail on until I return.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±

    She nodded once and leapt into the air leaving Damien alone on the whalers¡¯ ship. The captain smiled. ¡°Are you certain I can¡¯t offer you something to eat?¡±

 3.19

    Damien sat with Velco in his surprisingly spacious cabin. A little glass-fronted cabinet filled with pieces of bone carved into elaborate shapes or with detailed seascapes inlaid into them sat against the back wall. Damien perched on the edge of the captain¡¯s bed while Velco reclined in the room¡¯s sole chair. A small fold-up table occupied one corner. Beside it rested a two-shelf bookcase filled with charts and logbooks. On a small table rested a tray covered with dried meat, biscuits, and some sort of withered fruit. Damien found no poison, but still had no particular desire to eat any of it. Even the red wine in his battered tin cup smelled sour.

    Damien took a nibble of dried meat just to be polite. ¡°Why did you risk a fight with my master just to avoid telling her your intentions?¡±

    Velco tore a chunk out of his meat. ¡°I wanted to see what she was made of. I have to admit I was impressed. Would she have sunk us if I continued on without answering her?¡±

    ¡°No, she would have had me do it.¡±

    Velco laughed and almost choked on his half-chewed food. When the captain could breathe again he said, ¡°You don¡¯t mince words do you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a warrior, not a politician. If I have something to say, I say it.¡±

    ¡°Ha! You and I are going to get along. How far to this island of yours?¡±

    ¡°I could fly there in half an hour, but sailing, maybe a day or two. I admit I have little experience with ships. Do you really think you can kill the Leviathan?¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°The sorcerers I¡¯ve spoken with assure me their plan will work. No guarantees of course, but they seemed confident.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d care to share?¡± Damien took another nibble of meat. If it took two days to reach the island he¡¯d have to stomach the food for a little while.

    Velco devoured a biscuit, mold and all. ¡°Your master tell you to ask?¡±

    Damien smiled. ¡°Not in so many words, but she¡¯d be disappointed in me if I didn¡¯t try.¡±

    ¡°I hate to dash your hopes, but I don¡¯t exactly understand the process myself. Something about suppression and negation. I can pilot a ship, plot a course, or kill a whale, but sorcery is beyond me. When the time comes I¡¯ll do what they tell me and hope for the best.¡±

    Damien shook his head. The captain had taken too big a risk to pin it all on hoping for the best. He either knew more than he let on or was desperate. Looking at the man Damien thought it might be a combination of both.

    ¡°Why risk it? This trip, hunting a dragon, my master¡¯s wrath. What¡¯s so awful in the Old Empire that you would make such a gigantic gamble?¡±

    ¡°Awful? On the contrary, things couldn¡¯t be better. The guild¡¯s business is doubling every five years. We¡¯re rolling in gold.¡±

    Damien just stared, not understanding. ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°And what we¡¯re not rolling in is whales. We¡¯ve nearly hunted the safe areas clean. If we want to continue working we need to hunt out in the deep water where the big pods live.¡±

    ¡°And the whales aren¡¯t the only big thing that lives in the deep ocean.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and the dragon doesn¡¯t take kindly to us hunting in its territory. We¡¯ve sent three flotillas out and only one came back with oil. The others vanished without a trace. The guild lost five hundred men combined on those ships. We can¡¯t convince new crews to sign up unless we guarantee only shallow water hunting.¡±

    ¡°Right. You eliminate the Leviathan and a whole ocean opens up to you.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. This is our way of life. If we can¡¯t find new hunting grounds we lose everything. I¡¯ve staked it all on keeping our lifestyle going.¡±

    ¡°Including your life?¡±

    ¡°Including my life.¡±

 3.20

    Connor slammed the useless history book on the hard stone table. He¡¯d been reading book after book for a week and had nothing to show for it beyond an intimate knowledge of the functioning of the western province¡¯s economy. Why had anyone bothered to put such useless tomes in a hidden room? Unless a thief was suffering from insomnia he wouldn¡¯t have any interest in them. No one would have any interest in them beyond a governor or other administrator.

    Wait!

    An administrator. Where was it? Connor flung aside several books until he found the one he sought. He rifled through page after page of lists until he found it, a list of high-value slaves sent to the palace. He scanned the columns of names and numbers until he reached a note at the end. Included with this shipment: Three artifacts of unknown providence for storage in the palace vault.

    The palace vault. If the artifact he sought was anywhere it would be in the vault. Connor collected his amulet from the niche in the wall. The hidden compartment slid shut, hiding the mirror away for however many hundreds of years it would take for another to find it.

    Now that he had a destination Connor was eager to move on. He slipped the amulet around his neck and rushed up the stairs. His power had recovered, thank the Horned One. Some enchantment woven into the stone shielded the interior of the pyramid from the energy-draining effect outside.

    He retraced his steps back to the exit, passing the snarling, still-trapped guardian as he went. The demon thrashed when he got close, but couldn¡¯t escape the binding. Connor powered up his shield and stepped out into the desolate wasteland. Dry, acrid air parched his throat. Above, a dim spot of light showed where the sun struggled to penetrate the dismal clouds. A small winged silhouette passed in front of the light.

    Connor frowned and turned back to reseal the pyramid. No bird would fly into the haunted lands. Animals had sense enough to avoid the unnatural place. If it wasn¡¯t a bird¡ª

    A huge approaching power drew his gaze up in time to spot a black-scaled demon plunging toward the ground. Bat wings snapped open at the last second, flapped twice, and the beast settled light as a feather ten feet from Connor. Jagged horns jutted up from a head covered in bone spurs. Twin sanguine flames burned in deep-set sockets and a thick, reptilian tail thrashed behind it.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Connor tensed, ready to lash out. This monster easily overmatched the one he¡¯d bound inside. If it came to a fight he wasn¡¯t certain he¡¯d win. That the demon didn¡¯t attack at once argued a peaceful resolution remained possible. Unlikely, but possible.

    ¡°You serve the Horned One,¡± the demon said.

    Connor nodded, equally surprised and relieved to be having a conversation and not fighting for his life. ¡°That¡¯s right. Do you?¡±

    Bony lips peeled back, revealing three rows of razor-sharp teeth. ¡°Focalor serves no master. I smelled the Horned One¡¯s stench in your soul force.¡±

    ¡°Forgive my misunderstanding. I assume you want something since we¡¯re having this pleasant conversation instead of killing each other.¡±

    ¡°As if you could harm Focalor. Focalor wishes to know what brings a puny mortal to this place.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m looking for something.¡±

    ¡°Focalor is looking for something as well. Focalor cannot gain access to the pyramids so his search has been frustrating. Perhaps Focalor and the warlock can help each other.¡±

    A demon that wished to work with someone rather than kill them on the spot. Of all the wonders Connor had seen this one surprised him the most. Having a demon to help deal with guardians and traps would make his task much easier. Of course once the demon found what it wanted Connor¡¯s lifespan would be measured in seconds. But if he didn¡¯t agree to work with Focalor his life wouldn¡¯t last much longer.

    ¡°That sounds like an excellent suggestion. I¡¯m Connor, pleased to meet you. What, exactly, are we looking for?¡±

    ¡°Focalor seeks a way back to hell. He has wandered this world in search of a gate, but has found nothing. The pyramids are Focalor¡¯s last hope of finding one.¡±

    ¡°If you wish to return to hell, fly west until you find a great stone citadel. The holy warriors inside will be happy to kill you.¡±

    The demon flexed its wings and tensed. For an instant Connor feared he¡¯d made a horrible mistake, but Focalor didn¡¯t spring and rend him limb from limb. It shook like a wet dog and sighed.

    ¡°Focalor does not wish to return in defeat, but to stride through a gate like a returning hero. The other demons will see how great Focalor is and fear and obey him.¡±

    Even by demonic standards this creature was insane. It also seemed to be searching for the same thing as Connor. If the demon helped him find the crystal gate key Connor would be more than happy to let it pass through the portal.

    ¡°I¡¯m seeking a gate key as well. It seems our interests are aligned. We work together to find the crystal and when the portal opens you go through and leave me in one piece to use it as I wish. Agreed?¡±

    ¡°This arrangement suits Focalor. Has the warlock found the key inside?¡±

    ¡°No, but I found a clue. I believe what we seek is in the Palace of Alexious.¡±

    ¡°Focalor has seen the palace, but a barrier prevents him from entering.¡±

    Connor frowned. What sort of barrier would be strong enough to keep a demon as strong as Focalor out? And more importantly, would it also keep Connor out?

    ¡°Let¡¯s go take a look.¡±

 3.21

    The ship creaked as the sailors rushed to tie it up to the docks of Port Valcane. The flotilla had been within sight of Lookout Island when the archmage returned and told Velco the king approved of him docking in the kingdom and buying supplies.

    The captain had grinned and adjusted course away from the island. They had plenty of water and just enough food to make it. At his master¡¯s order Damien had spent another ten days on the whalers¡¯ ship eating dry meat, moldy bread, and sucking withered limes, but at last they¡¯d reached the city.

    Down on the dock his master and Lane stood patiently, waiting for the sailors to finish their work. Damien grinned and flew down to join them. Lane hugged him and kissed his stubbly cheek.

    ¡°This is a pleasant surprise,¡± Damien said when Lane stepped back.

    ¡°I asked Lane to serve as Captain Velco¡¯s guide around the city,¡± the archmage said.

    ¡°I guess that fits within the area of diplomacy, though going from negotiating with barons to tour guide seems a bit of a demotion.¡±

    ¡°Yes, well, I wanted someone I trust keeping an eye on Velco. I¡¯ve conscripted the city guard to help as well.¡±

    ¡°Mom also offered me dinner at the most expensive tavern in the city along with a guest of my choice.¡± Lane raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you say?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been eating moldy bread and dried mystery meat for ten days. If you offered me chowder and rolls at a corner shack I¡¯d say yes.¡±

    The gangplank clattered to the dock and Velco bounded down, ending their banter. He sighed when his feet hit the dock. ¡°Good to be back in civilization.¡± He eyed Lane and smiled. ¡°Who¡¯s this lovely young lady?¡±

    ¡°This is Lane,¡± the archmage said. ¡°She¡¯s a member of our diplomatic corps and will serve as your guide.¡±

    Velco chuckled. ¡°My minder you mean.¡±

    The archmage shrugged. ¡°If you prefer. In any case she can answer your questions and show you where you can buy your supplies.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°What about hiring more men?¡± Velco asked.

    ¡°We¡¯d appreciate it if you didn¡¯t try to recruit.¡±

    Behind them a crowd had begun to gather on the nearest street. Shouts and the crack of a whip from a passing teamster opened a path which soon closed. The strange ships were drawing many curious looks.

    ¡°What about my men? After three months at sea they deserve some shore leave.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine, as long as they behave themselves. Understand that anyone breaking our laws will answer for it and most likely won¡¯t be sailing with you.¡±

    ¡°These are all good lads, never fear. Any other advice or threats?¡±

    The archmage shook her head. ¡°No, but I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see you again before you leave. Let¡¯s go, Damien. Lane can handle it from here.¡±

    Damien offered Lane a parting smile and followed his master off the dock. They walked in silence through the crowds, making their way toward the city center. Damien had to force himself to match his master¡¯s pace. He wanted to hear what Uncle Andy thought about all this, but if the archmage didn¡¯t want to talk in the street he couldn¡¯t blame her.

    They reached a large, three-story structure with guards constantly coming and going. No one challenged them as they pushed through a small side door and walked down a twisting hall. More than one guard paused as they went about their duties to stare at the passing sorcerers. At last they reached a room decorated with a large table covered with a map of the city, eight chairs, and not much else.

    She shut the door behind them and a sound barrier fell into place. ¡°Report.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re planning to try and kill the Leviathan. Apparently the sorcerers have convinced Velco they have the power to destroy the dragon. The captain thinks he¡¯ll have access to unlimited hunting with the dragon gone.¡±

    ¡°What do you think? Does this mad scheme have any chance of success?¡±

    ¡°Not given the power of the sorcerer we met and I found nothing on board that might give them any advantage. I fear the good captain is leading his sailors to their deaths.¡±

    She waved her hand in dismissal. ¡°The sailors made their choice back in the Old Empire. My concern is whether they might anger the dragon so that it retaliates against us.¡±

    Damien hadn¡¯t even considered that possibility. ¡°How could we know? I think the real question is: can we search their ships while the sailors are on shore leave? If they¡¯re not hiding something, this venture makes even less sense.¡±

    ¡°I prefer not to antagonize them if I can help it. Now that we know the crossing is possible and that the empire as our ancestors knew it doesn¡¯t exist, merchants are going to want to start trading. If word reached the Old Empire that we didn¡¯t treat visitors fairly it might end a profitable situation before it begins.¡±

    ¡°So what are we going to do?¡±

    His master looked like she had swallowed something sour. ¡°I¡¯m afraid we¡¯ll need to send someone along to look out for the kingdom¡¯s best interests.¡±

    Damien groaned. ¡°Let me guess.¡±

    ¡°Sorry. I hoped Lane would ask you to join her. You deserve a good meal before you go back to sea.¡±

 3.22

    Morana watched from the crowd as sailors poured off the four strange ships. Mixed in somewhere with the common riffraff were Connor¡¯s allies, three sorcerers from the Old Empire. Her master had been a little vague about whether the empire sorcerers reached out to him or vise versa, but the important thing was they had arrived and now Morana had to make contact.

    A quick glance revealed three guards in uniform watching the ships. If there were three in uniform there were probably three or more times that many mixed in with the regular citizens. Connor said his people expected her to make contact; she just had to figure out how to draw their attention without alerting every guard in the area.

    Two women and a man with no visible soul force walked down the ramps of the ships. That had to be them.

    They picked their way down Shore Street towards the city, bodies tense and gazes darting about. Morana followed along behind, not too close, just another person out for a walk. She glanced casually around, trying to spot anyone following the three sorcerers. No one stood out, but any of the people walking along the side of the road could be a guard out of uniform.

    She clenched her teeth and gave it another minute. Still nothing stood out. If she wanted to accomplish anything she¡¯d have to take a chance.

    Morana picked up her pace and walked right past the three sorcerers. The man looked at her and when he did she flashed a horned skull symbol in the air in front of her chest where no one else could see it. His eyes widened and she nodded. Morana continued on toward the Drowned Rat, trusting the others would follow.

    The run-down tavern made a perfect place to talk. The guards didn¡¯t go there; if they did they¡¯d end up floating facedown in the bay. It was too early in the day for much of a crowd and that worked against them. Not that it worried Morana one way or the other. She had an understanding with the bartender. He didn¡¯t talk about Morana¡¯s business and she didn¡¯t kill him.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    The Rat slumped on the corner of Shore and Tide. Two stories tall and fifty feet wide, the tavern doubled as a two-copper whorehouse. Since it was before noon, the working girls were probably still asleep. Morana pushed through the swinging doors, nodded to the bartender, and slipped into her usual booth at the back of the common room. The table wobbled, forcing her to slide the little wedge of wood back under the busted leg. A pair of drunks snoring under the biggest table in the center of the room were the only other guests.

    A minute later the three sorcerers entered, spotted Morana, and made their way across the room, careful to avoid stepping in any of the nastier pools of liquid on the bare plank floor. The three of them sat on the bench across from Morana. No serving maid bothered them. The Rat was strictly self-serve.

    One of the three conjured a sound barrier. When it surrounded them the man said, ¡°You¡¯re our contact?¡±

    ¡°Connor sends his regards. Everything is on schedule?¡±

    ¡°Yes, we will collect the dragon¡¯s soul force as agreed.¡±

    ¡°The captain has no idea what you truly intend?¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t care. As long as the Leviathan dies and he can hunt his precious whales the captain is uninterested in any other details. It would be useful if we had a few extra men loyal to us in case things should go awry.¡±

    The two female sorcerers had said nothing up to this point, seeming content to stare at Morana. She shuddered. The women had blank, doll-like expressions. They almost didn¡¯t look human. Morana had never seen anything like it.

    Not her concern. At least now she had a use for the few Unkindness members that had survived her reminder of their loyalties.

    ¡°I have six men that should suit your needs perfectly. When should I send them over?¡±

    ¡°The woman that spoke for your kingdom asked the captain not to recruit from the populace. She said nothing about volunteers who offered to go on their own. Send them to the docks tomorrow morning. We¡¯ll handle the rest.¡±

 3.23

    Damien stood on the dock a few feet from Captain Velco and the archmage who were busy arguing about whether he could join the expedition. Their shouting almost drowned out the lapping of the waves. Since he¡¯d left all his gear back at the capital, Damien had gone shopping and now he carried a new canvas bag filled with clothes and other goods, most importantly a supply of parchment and pencils so he could keep his master up to date on the whalers¡¯ activities. Considering what he¡¯d seen on his first voyage with the good captain he didn¡¯t expect to have much reporting to do.

    He stretched and yawned. Despite the early departure time he¡¯d spent a late night chatting with Lane after a wonderful meal of fresh seafood. She¡¯d been surprised by Captain Velco¡¯s good manners as they went from shop to shop buying what the captain needed for his hunting trip.

    He hadn¡¯t put so much as a toe out of line and Lane seemed to think he meant what he said about opening up new hunting grounds. If he had ulterior motives he hid them well. Damien and Lane finally said goodnight around midnight. Lane kissed his cheek and slipped into her room. She was a good friend and unlike Karrie seemed to harbor no ambitions beyond being his friend.

    ¡°Damien!¡± The archmage waved him closer.

    They must have settled their differences. He didn¡¯t know why the captain bothered arguing. He either had to do what she said or be stuck in port. ¡°Master?¡±

    ¡°Captain Velco has agreed to let you travel with him on his flagship. All you¡¯ll have to do is stay out of everyone¡¯s way. Clear?¡±

    ¡°Perfectly.¡± Turning to Velco, Damien said, ¡°I appreciate you letting me travel with you, Captain. I won¡¯t give you a moment¡¯s trouble.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t. I booted my first mate to the common room so you¡¯ll be staying in his cabin. Meals are served promptly so if you¡¯re late you¡¯ll have to do without. Any questions?¡±

    ¡°No, sir.¡±

    ¡°Good. Let¡¯s board. I don¡¯t want to miss the tide.¡±

    Captain Velco showed Damien to a tiny, cramped cabin with nothing but a hammock and sea chest for furniture. He barely had room to turn around without bumping into one of the walls. It was going to be a long trip.

    Damien put his gear in the trunk and sat cross-legged in front of it. With everyone busy this would be a good time to scout out the ship. He conjured a spy bug, linked it to a viewing rectangle, and sent it under the door and down the hall. Damien sent the bug into Velco¡¯s room to have a second look around. It creeped and crawled over everything, but he found nothing interesting.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    The bug flew down a level to the hold. Scores of barrels filled every square inch. Some were filled with fresh water, but most were empty. It didn¡¯t take long for him to conclude the hold was a waste of time as well. The crew quarters came next, a jumbled space of hammocks and footlockers. Some of the sailors had letters from home tacked to the wall beside their hammocks, but nothing of interest to Damien.

    The only place left to check was the sorcerer¡¯s cabin and Damien didn¡¯t know if he wanted to take that step yet. If she noticed his spy there¡¯d be trouble, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. The bug flew to the opposite end of the ship where the sorcerer¡¯s isolated cabin waited. Damien studied the closed door through the bug¡¯s eyes. A barrier similar to the one he¡¯d used at the border baron¡¯s castle blocked anyone from going in. He could smash it easily enough, but didn¡¯t dare, not yet.

    The ship lurched and Damien let the bug vanish. He¡¯d check the other ships before he took any drastic steps. Damien got to his feet and went up on the deck. Behind them the city was slowly shrinking. Standing alone in the front, her blue robe swirling in the breeze, was the female sorcerer that had tried to threaten them when Damien and his master first arrived.

    Maybe he could talk his way into her cabin. He¡¯d seldom met a sorcerer who¡¯d pass up the chance to discuss their preferred techniques, and being from the Old Empire she had to be curious about how kingdom sorcerers wielded soul force. He certainly wondered about her style.

    Damien started across the moving deck, stumbling every other stride. Annoyed, he finally flew over beside her. When he landed she looked at him with wide, seemingly vacant blue eyes. Damien chewed his lip and tried a smile. ¡°We haven¡¯t been properly introduced. I¡¯m Damien.¡±

    He held out his hand and her gaze shifted down to look at it. She reminded Damien of a sleepwalker. The lights were on, but nobody was home. Her whole body shuddered, she blinked, and stumbled back from him. ¡°Where did you come from?¡±

    He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ¡°You looked right at me when I landed.¡±

    ¡°My body looked at you. My mind was otherwise occupied checking for obstacles in the water. What do you want?¡± She had gone from unaware to angry and Damien wasn¡¯t sure which he liked better.

    ¡°I wanted to introduce myself. I figured we¡¯d be traveling together for a while and it might be nice to have another sorcerer to talk to.¡±

    ¡°If I want to talk to another sorcerer I¡¯ll fly over to one of the other ships and talk to my comrades.¡± She brushed past him and flew down to her cabin. The door slammed behind her a moment later.

    He sighed. So much for talking his way in. Steps behind him heralded the captain¡¯s arrival.

    ¡°Not very friendly, is she?¡± Velco said.

    ¡°No, not very.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t take it personal.¡± The captain slapped him on the back. ¡°Near as I can tell she don¡¯t like anybody but her sister.¡±

    ¡°At least she likes someone. How far out are we going to sail?¡±

    Velco tapped his chin. ¡°Well past your island. I¡¯d say we¡¯ll be at least three weeks getting to where I plan to hunt. Here.¡±

    Damien caught a fist-sized white lump. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°Whale bone. Some of the sailors like to carve it. Thought you might like to give it a try, make the time go by faster.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Just what he needed, something to speed him along to a battle with the most powerful creature on the planet.

 3.24

    Dry air blew across Connor¡¯s face as he and Focalor flew east from the pyramid across the vast expanse of nothing that was the haunted land. Only the occasional movement of undead and minor demons disturbed the gray sand below. No water flowed and no plants grew. Connor didn¡¯t know how King Alexious managed to sacrifice even water to the Horned One, but it impressed him none the less.

    For three hours they flew in silence. Connor found it eerie, flying through the empty sky. On the other side of the mountains birds and insects occasionally shared the sky with him, though always flying away from him as fast as their wings could beat. Combined with the constant drain on his soul force the haunted lands were taking their toll.

    At last the royal palace appeared on the horizon. The heart of the ritual that created these ruined lands, the royal palace was a huge, sprawling collection of courtyards and walkways surrounding a four-story keep with a red-tile roof and stone dragons perched on each corner. An ancient map showed the palace sitting in the center of a city twice the size of the kingdom¡¯s capital. When the king triggered the ritual it wiped out everything not involved in the transference of energy.

    Once, Connor imagined, the palace probably inspired awe in the people and fear in visiting ambassadors. Now everything had faded, the color washed out to various shades of gray, the place more mausoleum than fortress. Even from this distance the barrier Focalor mentioned rippled and shimmered in his sorcerous vision. It didn¡¯t look like demonic energy. What he couldn¡¯t see was what sustained it and whether it would permit non-demons to pass through. If he couldn¡¯t get in he would have expended a lot of energy for nothing.

    ¡°You see it?¡± Focalor asked.

    ¡°The barrier? Yes, it¡¯s very powerful.¡±

    ¡°Of course it is powerful, it kept Focalor out.¡± Demon and warlock landed just beyond the barrier. ¡°But will it keep the warlock out?¡±

    Connor took a deep breath and let it out. ¡°One way to find out.¡±

    He stepped forward. The barrier resisted, then flexed inward, like it couldn¡¯t decide if it should let him through or not. Connor wouldn¡¯t be denied. One grim step after the next he pushed ahead until the resistance vanished. The constant drain eased at once. Like the pyramids, the palace must be protected from the effect that drained his soul force.

    Connor turned back to face the demon. ¡°I guess it won¡¯t keep me out. I¡¯ll try and find the source of its power.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    ¡°Focalor will circle above to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.¡±

    Connor nodded. The demon lashed its wings and soared into the air. More likely it wanted to make sure Connor didn¡¯t try to escape without keeping his end of the deal. He¡¯d do his best to follow through. The last thing Connor wanted was to have the powerful demon as an enemy.

    He put Focalor out of his mind and turned to face the palace. The barrier extended ten feet from the outer walls so Connor only had to take a few steps to pass through an open gate and into the first courtyard, a square area open to the sky. He suspected it had been a garden. A pair of eroded stone benches gave mute testimony that once upon a time people had lived here, children had played while parents sat on the benches and chatted. Connor could almost imagine the scene and the power that had ended them forever.

    Such power.

    He breathed out a sigh. He would have that power for himself. If not identical then equal. A covered walkway led from the square to the keep. Connor followed it to a closed door of petrified wood. The door didn¡¯t budge when he pushed it. Nothing supernatural protected the entrance, at least nothing visible. He drew a bit of power and blasted the door. It exploded inward showering the empty room beyond with splinters.

    Connor stepped through the ruined portal into a foyer decorated with intricately carved chairs and tables. Faded banners hung on each wall. Aside from a thick layer of dust it looked no different than it might have when people still occupied the palace. The perfect condition of the interior room clashed horribly with the ruined courtyard.

    As he had no interest in physically searching the whole palace, Connor sat in one of the chairs and conjured a scout sphere. The sphere zipped through halls, past perfectly preserved bedrooms, store rooms, a huge kitchen. He reached a set of double doors intricately carved with abstract shapes and gilded with gold. When Connor tried to send his sphere under the door it bounced off another barrier, similar to the one surrounding the palace, but more powerful and focused.

    Connor left the sealed doors for the moment. His sphere continued up to the second level, then the third, revealing nothing but ordinary living spaces. On the top floor the sphere slipped under a door and Connor¡¯s jaw dropped. A library that made the one at The Tower look like the collection in some backwater village stretched out before his disbelieving eyes. Connor could spend a mortal lifetime there and not read every book.

    He didn¡¯t have a lifetime. If the other portions of his plan were on schedule he needed to find the artifact and return to his base in weeks, not months or years. Connor slammed his fist on the arm of the chair, shattering the wood. He guided the sphere slowly through the library. Maybe there was a section of more important books he could focus on.

    Row upon row of packed bookcases filled the viewing rectangle, none looking more or less important than another. In the center of the library he found an open area with chairs and small tables where people could read in comfort. A dark carpet covered the floor. It had some sort of design woven into it.

    Connor guided the sphere higher so he could look down on the carpet. He blinked, certain his eyes were playing tricks. Laid out in white thread was an image of a horned skull. It couldn¡¯t be a coincidence. The Horned One¡¯s symbol had to indicate something.

 3.25

    Connor stood in the library surrounded by musty parchment, looking down at the carpet. Dim light filtered in from windows built into the ceiling. Occasionally Focalor¡¯s shadow would pass overhead. Could the demon see Connor standing in the library watching him fly by?

    Up close the carpet design looked less distinct. Whoever made it had woven the skull in as part of a larger design. If a person wasn¡¯t expecting to find the marker they might look right past it. Hiding things in plain sight was a trick used by the Horned One¡¯s cult and over the years Connor had gotten used to finding hidden symbols. Tentacles of soul force pushed the tables and chairs off the carpet then yanked it to the side. Underneath was an oval depression, a twin to the one in the pyramid.

    Connor took his amulet off and with trembling hands fit it into the oval. The floor vibrated then black flames spurted up between the cracks. Connor leapt back an instant before the stone sank down, forming a spiral staircase. He hadn¡¯t seen any sign of it when his scout sphere searched the palace. The staircase had to run between the walls. There was certainly enough room that no one would ever notice if a wall was thicker than it needed to be. For all Connor knew hidden passages might have been the rage when the palace was built.

    He conjured a light and started walking. He had no idea how long he walked or how deep he went, but finally the enclosed stairs opened up into a dark, empty room. Connor frowned. Where were the artifacts?

    Light spheres streaked to the far corners of the room. He left the staircase and walked around the empty space, his footsteps echoing around the chamber. Was this some sort of joke? Was King Alexious having a final laugh at his expense?

    The room shook, a violent shudder that brought dust raining down on Connor¡¯s head. Now what was happening? He spun, looking for the source of the tremor.

    Movement caught his eye. When Connor turned, a giant of black flame separated itself from the far wall. The construct¡ªConnor had no doubt the giant was a soul force construct¡ªlumbered closer. It was built like a man, with massive shoulders and long arms ending in three-fingered hands. It stood on legs as big around as full grown oaks. Its head was nothing but an oblong lump sitting on its trunk. Power surged down its arm and formed a flickering blade of black flame longer than Connor was tall.

    The construct strode toward him, raising its weapon as it came. Connor took to the air. The giant swung its blade.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.Connor darted aside. The passing of the blade raised a breeze. Before the giant halted its momentum Connor blasted it with a stream of hellfire.

    The construct absorbed the energy and grew taller. The sword whistled at Connor, faster this time. He just managed to avoid getting cut in half.

    Connor zipped around the giant like a bug, annoying but harmless.

    He avoided three more swipes. Though faster, the construct still failed to keep pace with him. Unfortunately, since it could absorb his attacks, Connor had no idea how to defeat it. They were at a standoff. That didn¡¯t work for him at all.

    He flew around the construct, dodging its ineffective attacks, and studying it from every angle. There had to be a way to deal with it. Everything had a weakness, he just needed to figure out what the construct¡¯s was.

    Connor squinted and peered closer. Something floated, just visible, inside the construct¡¯s chest. The black sword swished past his head, only missing by inches. Connor snarled away his frustration. He had to focus.

    He was almost certain whatever floated in the giant¡¯s chest was the key to stopping it. He took a breath, fortified his shield, and plunged toward the giant.

    The black sword came up.

    Connor ducked under it a moment before he struck the construct. His shield was stripped away in an instant. Cold and heat warred in their efforts to kill him.

    Connor fought the darkness. His skin melted and healed one second to the next.

    Even when the Horned One ripped his soul out and replaced it with a fragment of his own the pain didn¡¯t come close to what Connor experienced as he fought through the construct¡¯s body.

    A flicker of movement to his left. He flailed, hit something hard, and grabbed on.

    More pain as whatever he grabbed attempted to burn his hand off. Teeth clenched, Connor forced his way out the back of the construct. He fell twelve feet to the floor.

    Every inch of his body was screaming. He would welcome the giant¡¯s sword if only it would end the agony.

    Seconds passed. Connor uncurled his pain-wracked body and looked up. The giant had vanished.

    Connor sent healing energy through his body, soothing his pain. Skin reformed and in minutes Connor had recovered. He loved many things about his new abilities, but the thing he loved most was that his demonic soul force worked as internal or external power, just like a true demon.

    He sat up and brushed dead skin off his arm. The battle and healing had drained him. He didn¡¯t dare try to move on before he¡¯d recovered. Connor opened his left hand. Almost imbedded in the flesh was a flat, rune-covered stone maybe three inches around. He probed it with a little tendril of soul force.

    The token had served as an energy storage device. Whoever created the giant had filled the token with sustaining energy then stuck it in the construct¡¯s chest. Connor frowned. No way the little artifact had held enough power to sustain the construct for centuries. Whoever put it here had done so more recently. A few months ago perhaps. Certainly not more than a year.

    That begged another question. Who had set the trap?

 3.26

    When Connor¡¯s wounds had fully healed and his soul force recovered he scrambled up from the floor and walked over to the wall where the construct had first appeared. He conjured more lights and in the bright glow spotted a circle on the floor engraved with faded runes. An outer ring filled with small runes surrounded a central circle filled with dozens more, all intertwined into a single pattern. Some of them he recognized from books he¡¯d read about Alexious¡¯s kingdom, others looked like runes used in summoning and binding demons, and still others¡ªthe majority, Connor reluctantly admitted to himself¡ªhe¡¯d never laid eyes on before.

    He shook his head, crouched down, and traced a rune that resembled a thorny vine twisted into a spiral. What did that one mean? Connor had believed himself knowledgeable when he set out on this quest, but every day he learned just how deep his ignorance and arrogance ran. He felt like a child playing at being a warlock when he studied Alexious¡¯s mastery. How much more had the warlock king known than Connor and how much had he learned at the Horned One¡¯s right hand? Whatever his deficiencies, Connor¡¯s commitment to his path remained unwavering. He would succeed, whatever it took.

    He paused in his tracing. A rune featuring a circle inside another circle connected by straight lines. He knew that one. It was a rune of opening. Connor bit his lip, then poured a wisp of energy into the rune, careful not to let any of his power spill over into the other markings.

    The rune of opening drank in his power like a dry sponge. He kept the flow going until the rune would accept no more. The now-familiar vibration ran through the room. Black flames outlined a door in the wall which swung open at Connor¡¯s approach. He sent his lights through the opening and followed behind.

    His breath caught when he entered the room. The left- and right-hand walls were filled with niches, each of which held an artifact behind rune-etched glass. On the wall directly ahead hung a floor-length mirror of black glass. Connor¡¯s distorted image stared back at him. In the center of the room a stone table sat empty.

    This had to be the vault mentioned in the book he¡¯d found in the pyramid. Connor¡¯s impatient gaze flew around the room. The crystal had to be here somewhere. He passed over tomes of power that crackled with corrupt energy, rune-marked gems so sodden with power they made his little black diamond back home seem a pale thing. Skulls seemed to form the bulk of the collection, inhuman, warped things with overlong jaws, too many teeth, horns and bone spurs.

    Connor had never understood the warlock fascination with collecting skulls. He had several of his own of course, but he¡¯d never found any particular use for them, beyond decoration. He glanced over yet another skull, this one resembling a cross between a crocodile and a cobra.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    The next niche held a midnight-blue crystal the size of his fist. It looked like such a mundane thing compared to the more exotic artifacts filling the vault. Connor ran a hand over the glass protecting the crystal.

    After all his years of searching he¡¯d found it at last, the soul bleed crystal, the key to his ascension. Connor slammed his fist into the glass. It didn¡¯t so much as flex. He should have known it wouldn¡¯t be so simple. He sent a focused blast of hellfire into the barrier.

    The glass turned inky black then spat his power back at him magnified tenfold. Connor flew across the vault and slammed into the wall. The room spun and when he reached around and touched his head Connor found thick, black blood. He scrambled to his feet, healing the minor injury as he went.

    Connor hadn¡¯t come this far just to let a sheet of glass stand between him and his prize. He considered blasting it again, then rubbed the healed wound. Maybe a more subtle approach. He studied the runes cut into the glass. It seemed runes were always the key. Maybe he could find another rune of opening.

    Five minutes of searching later Connor found it, or rather he found a perfectly round opening in the pattern where the rune should have been. He punched the glass with no more success than the first time. There had to be a secret, something he¡¯d missed.

    Connor abandoned the sealed niche and paced the room as he thought. What was it? What wasn¡¯t he seeing? He paused when he passed in front of the mirror for the twentieth time. His reflection looked strange. He raised his hand and the reflection followed, but with a lag.

    Frowning, Connor moved closer to the mirror. The closer he got the more distorted his reflection became. When he met his reflected gaze the eyes in the mirror were black and hollow instead of red and glowing.

    ¡°Who are you?¡±

    His reflection smiled even though Connor¡¯s expression hadn¡¯t changed. ¡°Took you long enough to notice. Even the paladin noticed me faster than you.¡±

    The spirit shook its head. ¡°Sad what¡¯s become of the new generation of warlocks. In King Alexious¡¯s day you wouldn¡¯t have even qualified to serve as his court jester.¡±

    Connor clenched his fist and glared at the spirit.

    ¡°What, are you going to try punching the mirror? That worked out so well for you the first two times you tried it with the barrier glass.¡±

    Connor took a breath and found his center. His shoulders relaxed and he unclenched his fist. ¡°Tell me, spirit, how do I open the niches and retrieve the item I desire?¡±

    The spirit shook its head again. ¡°You really are an idiot. You need the key.¡±

    ¡°Where might I find the key?¡± Connor asked with exaggerated patience.

    ¡°That bitch took it with her when she forced her way past the guardian. She¡¯s hiding out up in the throne room. Hey, how did you get past her barrier?¡±

    ¡°It only keeps out demons. I¡¯ve still got enough mortal in me to slip through.¡±

    ¡°Tell you what. You kill the paladin and fetch the key back here and I¡¯ll let you talk to the master.¡±

    ¡°The Horned One?¡± Connor hardly believed his good fortune. The demon lord hadn¡¯t spoken to Connor since he made his pact twelve years ago.

    ¡°No, stupid, not The Master. Master Alexious.¡±

    Connor slumped for a moment then brightened. It would still be a great honor to speak with King Alexious. ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll return with the key and the paladin¡¯s head.¡±

 3.27

    Connor stood staring at the shimmering barrier between him and the throne room doors. The paladin had to be the source of the energy wall. He just needed to figure out how to bypass it. The warlock conjured a dart of hellfire and flung it at the barrier. The tiny speck of energy he used fizzled the moment it hit.

    So the paladin intended to keep corrupt energy out. That made sense considering everything in the haunted lands was brimming with the stuff, just like Connor himself. If he couldn¡¯t burn his way through maybe he could sneak through. Connor extended his index finger and pulled all the corrupt energy out of it, no shield, no physical enhancements, just flesh and blood.

    He reached for the barrier again, embarrassed to notice his hand shook. The tip of his finger touched the wall and after a moment of resistance pushed through. The sensation wasn¡¯t pleasant; it reminded Connor of washing in too-hot water, but he could bear it. The trick was going to be holding all his power as deep inside as possible, long enough to slip through the barrier. The only way to do it was to do it.

    Connor directed all his energy flows into his core. His shield faded away, his enhanced senses dulled down to those of a mere mortal. When he finally had his power as contained as he could get it Connor clenched his jaw and stepped through the barrier.

    The resistance was worse this time, like walking upstream in a swollen river, and the temperature had risen as well. His flesh turned red and blistered. Pain, raw and undiminished by any soul force techniques, assailed him.

    Connor took another step and reached for the doors.

    The temperature rose another fifty degrees. It took everything he had not to cry out. As bad as it was, the pain paled compared to diving through the black construct. While heavenly soul force had its uses, when it came to dishing out damage nothing beat corrupt energy.

    He shoved the doors open and staggered through. The pain and resistance vanished. Seated on the white marble floor in the lotus position, surrounded by a bright white aura, was a stunning woman in silver mail. White hair swirled around her and a great sword more suited to a northern warrior than a slender young woman sat on the floor beside her.

    Connor restored all his protections and enhancements then healed the minor damage caused by the barrier. Did she even know he was there? Maybe he could kill her quickly and finish his business downstairs.

    Crackling black hellfire appeared around his hands. The instant it did the woman¡¯s eyes popped open then narrowed. White light shone from them.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.Connor hurled a ball of hellfire. The paladin snatched up her sword and cut the attack out of the air, negating it before it hit. She wielded the massive sword with one hand like it weighed no more than a dagger. Which angel had she struck her bargain with? A powerful one for certain, perhaps even one of the archangels.

    He drew more power. This should be a worthy battle indeed. Connor conjured a black dragon and sent it flying toward the paladin. Claws slashed and fangs snapped.

    None of them even came close. Her sword a blur, the paladin carved his dragon up. In moments the construct collapsed.

    Connor turned the residual energy into dark spears that streaked toward her heart. Perhaps taken by surprise, she missed one of the spears. It struck her mail and sent the paladin flying. She skidded across the empty throne, not stopping until she hit the far wall.

    He grinned. She wasn¡¯t invincible at least.

    The paladin stood up, not a mark on her. Not even her mail was tarnished from the blow of his spear. His grin soured. He should have known such a weak attack wouldn¡¯t phase a paladin capable of crossing the haunted lands and raising such a powerful barrier. The fact that her sword and armor both had heavenly energy bound into them didn¡¯t help his cause.

    The paladin leveled her sword at him. It glowed white. Connor leapt, avoiding a burning arrow by inches. He rolled, spun, and dodged a storm of arrows. Lying on his back Connor sent a black scythe at her knees.

    The dark blade stopped when the sword slashed down through his attack. He sent blast after blast at his opponent, watching closely as she slashed each blast out of the sky. After the fourth attack he realized she was using only the power of the sword for both offense and defense. After the sixth blast he noticed the sword¡¯s glow diminishing.

    He knew what he had to do now. Connor drew deeply from his core, increasing the power in each blast. If he could just force her to take a little power away from the barrier it might be enough to allow Focalor to break through. With the demon at his side it would be a whole new battle. From the tiny beads of sweat forming on her smooth brow the paladin knew it too.

    Connor sent another blast, the biggest one so far. She slashed through it. Her power flared an instant before a wave of white light came roaring at him.

    Connor raised his shield at the same moment the wave struck. Dark and light power clashed.

    The explosion sent Connor flying. Only his enhanced strength kept his ribs from breaking when he struck the wall.

    His opponent stood slumped over, leaning on her no-longer-glowing sword. Connor drew another chunk of power and hurled a black lightning bolt.

    She formed a white shield that shattered when the corrupt energy struck it. The barrier wavered.

    The ceiling exploded inward. When the dust settled Focalor stood in the center of the throne room.

    The demon¡¯s knobby, scaled form shimmered. Bat wings turned to raven wings. The tail shrank and disappeared. The wide, thick body became slimmer and more human.

    So his erstwhile partner wasn¡¯t a true demon at all, but a risen demon cast out of hell for the crime of not being evil enough. Should Focalor turn against him Connor wouldn¡¯t last long against both the paladin and the former demon.

    For the moment it seemed Focalor had eyes only for the paladin. His gaze locked on the still-silent woman.

    ¡°We meet again at last, my love,¡± Focalor said. ¡°I have so missed you.¡±

 3.28

    ¡°I should have killed you centuries ago, Focalor.¡± The paladin¡¯s voice sounded dull and raspy from years of disuse.

    ¡°Kill me! I gave up everything I was for you, Aowin. Now I¡¯m trapped on this wretched world. But once I¡¯ve killed you I¡¯ll reclaim my place in hell.¡±

    Focalor¡¯s power blazed around him, a muddy gray haze, not quite the corrupt darkness of a true demon and not the golden light of a mortal sorcerer. The ragged remains of the paladin¡¯s barrier vanished as she drew the energy back into herself and her sword. Both weapon and wielder glowed with pure white light.

    If either of them remained aware of Connor they gave no sign. That suited the exhausted warlock. He scrambled back to the doorway and hunkered down to watch the show. He needed time to let his badly depleted soul force regenerate.

    Focalor raised his claws and a pillar of gray flames roared down on Aowin. The flames splashed down over her shield. When the torrent subsided she stood unharmed in a circle of charred stone.

    ¡°You always start with the same attack.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Poor, predictable Focalor.¡±

    She raised her sword and Connor expected the white arrows. Focalor blurred and reappeared beside Aowin. He backhanded her hard enough to snap her head aside. He hammered a fist into her stomach, doubling her over.

    ¡°Predictable am I?¡± Focalor raised his hand high for a clubbing blow to her head.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.Aowin sped up. Her sword swung in a crossing slash.

    Focalor¡¯s hand went flying, spraying black blood all over the white stone. He grasped his stump and snarled.

    Aowin sneered as her sword burned the black blood away. ¡°Did I say predictable? I meant pathetic.¡±

    She showed no ill effects from the heavy blows. The great sword went up and power flowed into it. When it reached its highest point Focalor smiled and thrust his dripping wrist at her face.

    Mingled blood and flame sprayed into Aowin¡¯s face.

    She gagged and staggered back, pawing at her face. Focalor formed a new hand of pure soul force. He drove straightened fingers into her stomach. When he ripped them back they were stained red.

    Aowin moaned and held a hand to her stomach. Focalor loomed over her. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

    Connor studied the paladin. Power flowed to her wound. ¡°Finish her before she heals!¡±

    Focalor looked back at him.

    Bad move.

    Aowin chose her moment well. She drove her great sword one handed into Focalor¡¯s chest up to the hilt. Purifying light burst from the blade.

    Focalor screamed.

    He tried to back away from the heavenly blade, but the paladin wouldn¡¯t give him an inch. She poured more power into her weapon. White light burst from cracks in Focalor¡¯s arms and legs. He roared even louder.

    Connor gathered his power. It wouldn¡¯t be long now.

    Light shot out the demon¡¯s mouth and eyes. A final blinding flash filled the throne room. When Connor¡¯s vision cleared there was no sign of Focalor. Aowin stood panting, her soul force depleted.

    Perfect.

    Connor conjured a black blade of dense soul force and walked over. ¡°That was impressive.¡±

    She looked up at him and he swung. Aowin¡¯s head hit the ground, eyes wide with shock. Connor smiled down at her.

    Now where was the key?

    He patted her pockets, but found them empty. Four buckles held the silver mail in place and once he unfastened them he tossed it aside and shook his singed fingers. On a chain around her neck was a small round seal marked with the rune of opening. He yanked it and snapped the chain.

    Connor now had everything he needed to claim the crystal.

 3.29

    ¡°You¡¯re not dead.¡± The spirit in the mirror appeared the moment Connor entered the vault carrying Aowin¡¯s severed head. ¡°I¡¯m modestly impressed. I was certain the paladin would kill you.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± He tossed the head in the corner. ¡°When can I speak to King Alexious?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need a few minutes. It¡¯s not like he¡¯s sitting around waiting to speak with every dimwitted warlock that wanders into his palace.¡±

    Connor ignored the insult and flicked his hand at the spirit. ¡°Well run along and let him know I¡¯ve completed the tasks you set.¡±

    The spirit stuck a shadowy tongue out at him and vanished. Connor shook his head and went over to the crystal¡¯s niche. It took a moment to locate the empty circle in the runes. When he found it again Connor placed the key in it. Seconds passed and nothing happened.

    Had he done something wrong? Power gathered and the runes writhed, finally. A blast of power sent Connor flying across the room. He slammed into the far wall and slid to the floor. Again.

    Connor clambered to his feet shaking his head, trying to figure out what happened. In the mirror the spirit had returned. It wore a grin that almost split its head in half. ¡°You tried to open the niche before learning the proper technique.¡±

    Connor snarled. ¡°You might have warned me.¡±

    ¡°Why should I warn someone too stupid or impatient to wait for the proper instruction?¡±

    Before Connor could respond the spirit shuddered and faded away. An armored figure took its place. This apparition appeared far more solid than the vaporous spirit. Connor took a knee. This had to be King Alexious.

    ¡°On your feet, boy.¡± The king spoke in a deep sepulchral voice that seemed to echo as though coming from a great depth.

    Connor rushed to obey, not even thinking to be insulted by the boy comment. To a being of King Alexious¡¯s age and power Connor was little more than a child. ¡°Great King, it is an honor to meet you.¡±

    ¡°My spirit guard seems to think little of you, but you have manners at least. That¡¯s surprisingly rare among those who walk our path. I never understood it myself. You¡¯d think by the behavior of some warlocks that snarling savagery and spitting curses somehow made you stronger.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    While the king spoke of manners Connor took the opportunity to study the man, or perhaps former man, that had been his chief inspiration ever since Connor learned of him. The once king had a heavy build and crimson eyes shone out from slits in the horned helm. He looked closer. It wasn¡¯t armor the king wore, not exactly. It appeared the plate, helm and gauntlets were fused to his body like a second skin or a demon¡¯s scales.

    ¡°What do you wish to know of me, boy?¡± King Alexious asked.

    ¡°I want to finish your work and sacrifice the rest of the continent to the Horned One. I sought the soul burn crystal to complete your harvest.¡±

    The king chuckled. ¡°Ambitious, I like that. The hell gate project wasn¡¯t a backup plan. It was my first plan which I abandoned as unworkable and inefficient compared to my final project. What makes you think you can succeed where I failed?¡±

    The king¡¯s voice held an edge when he asked the final question. Connor swallowed. He¡¯d have to be diplomatic in how he answered. ¡°I believe it¡¯s my best chance to succeed. I have no army and no kingdom. If I attempted to duplicate your work with the pyramids my enemies would detect it at once and destroy me and my work. Creating the hell gate allows me to do most of the work in secret and once I¡¯m ready I¡¯ll have the army I need to crush my enemies. Once I subjugate the kingdom I can move on to building pyramids and offering the great sacrifice.¡±

    King Alexious nodded. ¡°A thoughtful plan. Where will you find the energy sources you need to bring your army through the gate?¡±

    ¡°Much has changed in the years since you ascended. What was once wilderness with savage natives is now a prosperous kingdom. I will have no trouble getting the soul force I need to summon an army.¡±

    ¡°I honor your ambition and the Horned One¡¯s decision to gift you a portion of his soul force. Succeed and I will welcome you to The Master¡¯s court as a brother. To claim the crystal, place the key in the empty circle, charge it with hellfire, and spin it one full rotation right and two full rotations left. When you leave be certain to reset the guardian.¡±

    The king vanished from the mirror and the first spirit returned. ¡°You two seemed to hit it off.¡±

    Connor ignored the spirit and walked back to the crystal¡¯s niche. He performed the steps as King Alexious said then watched as the guardian runes faded away and the glass became insubstantial. He reached in and pulled the crystal out. It weighed more than he¡¯d expected; more like lead than crystal. Connor sighed in satisfaction. Now his plans could proceed.

    He pocketed the key, surrounded the crystal with a soul force bubble, and let it drift beside him.

    ¡°Wait,¡± the spirit said. ¡°Take me with you and I¡¯ll lead you to the cavern King Alexious planned to use to house the crystal.¡±

    ¡°I already have a place picked out. Do you know how to reset the guardian?¡±

    The spirit gave a despairing shake of its head. ¡°There¡¯s a circle on the floor outside. Put the token in the center and pour hellfire into it. When it can¡¯t hold any more it¡¯ll reactivate. Are you really going to pass up the chance to set up in the location the master chose himself?¡±

    Connor walked out of the treasure room without a backward glance. He needed to return to his library and check on Mikhail. He didn¡¯t trust the unstable young man to act on his own for very long.

 3.30

    The sun had long since slunk behind the mountains when Connor spotted the cave. He was relieved to find no bodies littering the ground outside. Either none of his agents had come calling or Mikhail had shown a shred of good judgment and let them be. Whichever way it turned out, a great weight lifted from Connor¡¯s shoulders.

    The snow crunched under his boots when he landed and Connor sunk up to mid-calf. It must have snowed again while he was gone. He stepped out of the snow and walked down the long tunnel to his library. He sensed Mikhail there. Connor frowned. The black knight wasn¡¯t alone. Another weak soul force was present. Who could it be? Despite what he¡¯d told Mikhail, Connor hadn¡¯t actually expected any of his agents to visit for weeks.

    Something must have happened.

    Connor picked up his pace, not running, that would be a sign of weakness and he didn¡¯t dare show any weakness. He entered his library and found Mikhail, drawn sword held in his scaly new hand, standing over a man in dark brown and green robes. The unfortunate prisoner spotted Connor and sighed in relief.

    ¡°Master, I have an important message,¡± the prisoner said.

    ¡°Silence, worm. I caught this one prowling around outside two days ago, Master. Remembering your admonishment I detained him for questioning prior to execution.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Good, Mikhail, I¡¯m pleased you paid attention.¡± Turning his gaze on the prisoner Connor continued, ¡°I assume Eleck sent you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± The terrified man looked up at Mikhail then back to Connor.

    Connor attempted a reassuring smile. With his current appearance he wasn¡¯t certain how well he pulled it off. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mikhail isn¡¯t going to kill you. He was just acting out of an abundance of caution. Your message?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Master Eleck says the project is on schedule, but he fears one of the Wise One¡¯s followers may have discovered our work. A girl has disappeared, and hunters have been dispatched. He feels confident the girl will be found and dealt with, but wished to let you know what had happened.¡±

    Connor ground his teeth. If Eleck didn¡¯t get the cave ready or, worse, someone from the kingdom learned what they were doing he¡¯d have nowhere to set up the crystal. ¡°Return and tell Eleck if he fails I¡¯ll send Mikhail to kill the lot of you.¡±

    The trembling messenger popped to his feet and fled the library as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. Connor slammed his fist into the wall. Problems, problems, problems. Why did all his servants cause him nothing but problems?

    He stalked across the library and sat in his black chair. ¡°It isn¡¯t too much to expect my subordinates to do their jobs competently, is it?¡±

    ¡°No, Master,¡± Mikhail said. ¡°Say the word and I will punish them for you.¡±

    Connor rubbed his face. Was Mikhail so stupid he didn¡¯t realize Connor was talking about him too? Probably.

    ¡°I appreciate the offer, but Eleck still has important work to do. We¡¯ll give him a chance to clean up his mess before we take more drastic measures.¡±

 3.31

    Lon sat across the table from Thomas in the headmaster¡¯s cluttered office. It had been an exhausting and frustrating couple of days. He returned Jen and her team to The Citadel before returning to report. Lon wasn¡¯t exactly sure how Thomas got put in charge of researching Connor Blackman. Usually the headmaster looked after his students and teachers and nothing else. The archmage must have been too busy with the imperial ships to take care of this as well. Thomas and Lidia were old friends and Lon suspected if she asked him to look into this business for her Thomas wouldn¡¯t hesitate to help.

    Thomas looked up from Lon¡¯s report. ¡°Not much here and Kat didn¡¯t know anything. Huh. Quite remarkable, soul force eaters showing up at both locations at the same time as you. It¡¯s enough to make a man think we have a leak in The Tower.¡±

    Lon had similar thoughts, but kept silent, uncomfortable giving voice to them. He couldn¡¯t imagine who might help Connor and they certainly couldn¡¯t just question people for no reason. It would kill morale and make everyone suspicious of everyone else. If that happened they¡¯d never accomplish anything.

    ¡°What do you want to do?¡± Lon asked.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.¡°If you¡¯re willing I was thinking of setting a trap.¡±

    Lon frowned. ¡°What sort of trap?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s one last avenue we haven¡¯t explored: the Blackman family itself. I want you to go talk to them. But before you meet, I¡¯ll let the usual people know something¡¯s happening, each with a slight variation, none of it the truth. Different times of the meeting, different locations, that sort of thing. You¡¯ll go to each place at the appointed time. If you¡¯re attacked we¡¯ll have our answer. Once that¡¯s sorted out you can talk to the Blackman clan safely.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not crazy about lying to our people, but I agree we don¡¯t have much choice. Who do you trust to act as my backup?¡±

    ¡°That, at least, I have sorted out. Before she left Lidia put three members of her Crimson Legion at my disposal, just in case. If we can¡¯t trust them, we can¡¯t trust anyone.¡±

    Lon feared his old friend was all too correct about that last bit. ¡°How many people will you test?¡±

    ¡°I only told six others about your last mission. Three of the high sorcerers, my assistant, Mistress Ann, and Lenore the librarian. I have my suspicions, but I¡¯ll try them all to be certain. Since Sasha is already in Valcane I won¡¯t inform her of your mission. The other five I¡¯ll give different information about a meeting three days from now in the port. At least one of them will most likely be a trap. Are you certain you¡¯re willing to take the risk, Lon?¡±

    Lon wasn¡¯t at all certain, but they had limited options. They needed to sort this out if they were to have any chance of stopping Connor. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, a trap isn¡¯t as dangerous if you know you¡¯re walking into it.¡±

 3.32

    The cry of gulls mingled with the salty scent of the ocean. Bright sun shone down on Lon as he sat in the outdoor cafe which was to serve as the third potential ambush location. He loved it down by the ocean. The water kept the temperature more comfortable. He¡¯d found a good spot. From his corner table Lon could keep watch for long distances in both directions.

    Right now all he saw were shoppers hauling baskets of fish or vegetables or whatever they¡¯d bought that morning. None of them looked remotely threatening. He hadn¡¯t seen a warlord or sorcerer that didn¡¯t work for him at any of the ambush points.

    He smiled. The Crimson Legionnaires probably wouldn¡¯t appreciate the implication that they were working for him. Speaking of which, here came one of them now. A stunning blond strode toward him, wearing a blue sundress that flapped in the breeze. She was assigned to play the part of his contact on the assumption that whoever was targeting them would be less intimidated by a woman than a man.

    Anyone stupid enough to think that deserved to die. She might have been smiling and waving at him like an old friend, but up close her blue eyes were as cold and emotionless as any killer Lon had ever met. When Alden, the lead sorcerer, had introduced him to Imogen Newall, one look at her hard features and flat eyes had made Lon very happy to have her on his side in the coming battle.

    They embraced like old friends and she sat across from him. A serving girl took their order and left them alone.

    ¡°Anything?¡± Lon asked.

    Imogen shook her head. ¡°Do you think this one will be a bust as well?¡±

    Lon shrugged. There was no way to tell what might happen. Alden and Chun had hidden themselves on opposite sides of the street and a squad of guardsmen were waiting a block over in case any soul force eaters showed up. If anything happened they were as ready as they could be.

    Lon and Imogen chatted about nothing in particular and sipped tea for an hour. They watched the pedestrians, the other guests, even the sky drew an occasional glance. There was simply nothing around.

    ¡°I think we can call this a bust,¡± Lon said.

    ¡°Agreed.¡± Imogen stood up and Lon joined her.

    He kissed her cheek and tossed a silver coin on the table to cover their drinks. They parted ways, Imogen heading toward the docks and Lon deeper into the city. He¡¯d go to the next site and a little later she¡¯d show up and do her performance again in a different dress with a different hairstyle. Lon was torn as he walked down the street toward a park a quarter mile away.

    Part of him was glad the first three sorcerers were honest, but another part wished the attack would just happen. He was getting worn down by the tension. This was why he¡¯d never wanted to join the inquisitors. The constant stress was too much for him.

    He hadn¡¯t gone more than a hundred yards down the street when he sensed power gathering ahead of him. He raised a shield an instant before a ball of soul force detonated five feet from him.

    Lon went flying to his left. Pieces of shoppers went every which way. He skidded to a stop against the wall of a dry goods store. Some poor woman¡¯s torso landed beside him.

    Standing on a rooftop across the street was a burly man. Black veins crisscrossed his arms and power crackled around his fingers. His core was nothing extraordinary, but rings on both middle fingers seethed with demonic energy.

    He raised his hands and Lon sprang into the air ahead of another blast that sent cobblestones flying toward the fleeing shoppers. When Thomas had come up with this plan, Lon doubted this was how he pictured it going.

    A golden blast struck the stranger in the back, staggering him half a step closer to the edge of the roof. Alden shimmered into view. More power gathered in the air around him.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Before he could renew his offensive, black flames roared down at him. Alden dodged with a hair¡¯s breadth to spare, his attack ruined. A second enemy appeared in the sky above, a pale, dark-haired woman with black pits for eyes. She carried a scythe wreathed in black flames and sat on a pale horse with flames dancing around its hooves.

    The sorcerers circled the corrupted humans. Both sides knew whoever attacked first would leave themselves open to a counterattack. It was a standoff which worked to Lon and Alden¡¯s advantage since they had reinforcements coming.

    Hopefully the strangers didn¡¯t.

    More sorcerers approached from the east and south. He sensed no corruption so it had to be Chun and Imogen. Below him the people had fled the immediate area, thank heaven. At least they wouldn¡¯t have to worry about any more noncombatants getting hurt.

    Imogen drifted to a stop beside him. She hadn¡¯t had time to change out of her blue dress. ¡°I thought we were expecting monsters of some sort.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t feel those two qualify?¡±

    ¡°Good point.¡±

    The other power source was close. Lon scanned the sky. His breath caught.

    She had curly copper hair and went barefoot, just like he remembered. After their first encounter Lon had done his best to find a mention of a sorcerer fitting her description in The Tower archives, but he¡¯d come up blank. Either she¡¯d changed her appearance or she¡¯d come from beyond the kingdom. In her right fist she clutched Chun¡¯s long black hair. His severed head dripped blood on the stones below.

    The female sorcerer looked at Lon and grinned. ¡°We meet again.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t escape this time, witch.¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s not how I remember it happening before. And this time I brought two friends along to play.¡±

    ¡°As did I. Let¡¯s see how you do in a fair fight.

    The redhead tossed Chun¡¯s head to the street where it splattered like a melon. ¡°Let¡¯s hope they¡¯re stronger than this one.¡±

    She sent a blast of lightning at Lon. He spun out of the way and the battle was on. Lon chased his opponent through the sky, dodging blasts and sending an occasional counter her way. She was as fast and strong as he remembered. Despite his boasting, Lon wasn¡¯t certain he could beat her.

    Explosions rattled the buildings as his companions fought their own battles. The Crimson Legion was known to be a close-knit group. Seeing their comrade killed had probably put the others in the mood for a fight. They were lucky in one regard: the two corrupted humans together weren¡¯t as powerful as the black knight that had faced Lon on his previous visit.

    A blast broke on his shield, forcing Lon¡¯s full attention back to the redhead. He conjured a pair of griffins and sent them in to engage her. His opponent raised a shield in time to stop their initial rush. The constructs scraped their claws and beaks against the golden bubble to no effect.

    She poured a ton of energy into her barrier, more than she needed to stop his constructs. He discovered why when a pair of giant arms shot out of her shield and grabbed his griffins by their necks. Lances of power shot out from the shield, piercing his griffins and tearing them apart.

    As he watched, her shield shifted from a sphere to a ten-foot-tall humanoid figure that wrapped around her. He could just make out the woman at the center of the construct, tendrils of energy connecting her to it. It contained a lot of soul force and he doubted she had enough power to maintain it for very long.

    If he kept out of her reach and wore her down Lon might have a chance. He circled the construct, trying to read its structure. The woman had skill. He found no weak spots.

    With no better options Lon conjured a spear and hurled it at the construct¡¯s left knee. It struck and shattered into splinters, doing almost no damage.

    She pointed the construct¡¯s hand at him and golden arrows streaked toward him. He dodged, flying in a circle around her. His opponent spun with him, just a fraction too slow to catch him in the barrage.

    Lon almost flew into a second hail of arrows when she pointed the left arm in his direction. He dove at the last second. Two arrows clattered off his personal shield and then he was past.

    He hardly had time to take a breath before she shifted her aim again. Arrows smashed the buildings under him to rubble as he flew on. He needed to end this fast before they leveled the neighborhood.

    He conjured another pair of griffins, one on either side of her. They bit her construct¡¯s arms and yanked them to the side. Lon raced into the gap, conjuring a sword with most of his remaining power.

    The blade struck her construct¡¯s chest and pierced through. She fled out the back an instant before his sword would have pierced her chest. The golden giant vanished.

    The redhead hung in the air, gasping for breath.

    Lon leveled his sword at her. ¡°Surrender, tell us everything you know about Connor Blackman¡¯s plans, and you¡¯ll be spared.¡±

    ¡°As if I value my life more than my loyalty to Connor.¡±

    She pointed at a damaged building and a ball of energy streaked toward it.

    Lon hurled his sword, changing its shape as it flew. His power wrapped around hers. When it detonated his shield blew apart, but the building survived.

    He spun back, but the redhead was gone.

 3.33

    Imogen watched as Chun¡¯s head fell to the ground and splattered. The cold fury that constantly burned inside her flared into a full-fledged inferno. Chun had been a good man, loyal comrade, and adequate sorcerer. That last was probably what got him killed. She¡¯d often wondered, when they first met, why the archmage chose him for her Crimson Legion.

    He hadn¡¯t been especially skilled or powerful. As they worked and spent time together Imogen had come to understand. He was loyal and dedicated. Give him any task, vital or minor, and he¡¯d do it and do it well. The more people she met, the more Imogen realized that was a rare talent.

    And now he was dead. Murdered by one of Connor Blackman¡¯s agents. Before Imogen could lash out at the traitorous sorcerer Lon flew after her. The two of them raced through the sky exchanging blasts. Imogen frowned. She wanted to kill the woman herself. Well, she had other options.

    Alden was locked in a sorcerers¡¯ duel with the man on the roof leaving the girl on the demon horse for her. The pale, she hesitated to say woman as Imogen wasn¡¯t certain her opponent still qualified, stared at her, head cocked at a forty-five degree angle, an insane smile stretching her face to its limit. The girl had no power of her own, but her scythe fairly crackled with corrupt energy. Had the weapon driven her insane? It could happen if an ordinary person laid their hands on a demonic weapon.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.The scythe slashed through the air, sending a ten-foot-wide blade of hellfire racing toward Imogen. The Crimson Legionnaire conjured a golden ax to hack a chunk out of it. Hellfire blazed past her on either side. Its inherent wrongness twisted her insides.

    Yes, handling such power could definitely drive a person insane. She had to put the woman down before she hurt anyone else.

    Imogen conjured golden armor and strengthened her ax. She raced to close the distance between her and her opponent. She was barely able to dodge out of the way when the girl countercharged, her flaming scythe sweeping toward Imogen¡¯s neck.

    Imogen spun, her ax hacking at the girl¡¯s back. The demon horse brought its rider around far faster than a normal horse could manage on the ground. Ax met scythe, the two grinding against each other, black and gold sparks flying.

    The demonic weapon immediately began to degrade Imogen¡¯s ax, forcing her to spend more power to maintain it. The girl cackled and hellfire flared, disintegrating the ax and almost taking Imogen¡¯s hand with it. The horse spat a stream of flame that drove her back. The golden armor held, but Imogen had to spend even more power to renew it.

    At this rate Imogen was going to use up all her soul force just staying alive. Perhaps she¡¯d underestimated the scythe¡¯s strength. She didn¡¯t have a lot of experience dealing with demonic weapons. Her specialty was in questioning and extracting information, the same as Alden. They¡¯d been assigned this mission assuming they¡¯d have someone to interrogate. She doubted the grinning lunatic facing her knew anything useful or that Imogen would be able to extract it if she did.

    Imogen glanced toward Alden and found him backpedaling from a furious series of blasts from his opponent. The man¡¯s back was to Imogen and she got an idea. It wasn¡¯t exactly a fair way to fight, but it might work.

 3.34

    Alden barely managed to raise a shield before streams of hellfire slammed into it. Alden¡¯s adversary stared up at him. The man¡¯s face twisted into a grimace of pain and rage as he channeled his rings¡¯ power. Alden¡¯s golden counterattack was slapped away with contemptuous ease.

    He grimaced and dodged another stream of hellfire. The rings were killing the man a little with each attack.

    Unfortunately, he wasn¡¯t dying fast enough to help Alden.

    Six golden blades spun out, streaking toward the dying man from multiple angles.

    His opponent roared and a pulse of hellfire burned them all to nothing. Alden blasted him again, finally getting through his defenses. Skin bubbled and sloughed off the man¡¯s chest.

    The ring wielder roared at the sky. He seemed incapable of rational speech. A black skull formed between his hands before streaking toward Alden. He threw desperate power into his shield an instant before the skull hit and exploded. Alden¡¯s skin blistered and burned. His stomach churned, but his shield held. When the flames faded Alden saw he had been blown back ten feet.

    His snarling opponent drew more power for another attack. Before he could release it Imogen flew up from behind him and buried her ax in his skull. On the roof the dead man looked at peace, his pain-twisted features now smooth and calm. Alden sighed his relief.

    Imogen flew past him. ¡°Switch!¡±

    Switch?

    Imogen¡¯s opponent galloped through the sky towards Alden.

    His relief gone, Alden conjured blades and sent them flying at the girl and her horse. She bashed half of them out of the sky, but the rest struck the horse in the belly and legs. The girl screamed like he¡¯d hit her.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    They must be linked somehow. What affected one affected the other. That was good to know.

    She swiped her scythe through the air and a wave of hellfire shot toward Alden. It seemed weaker than her earlier attacks. He flew under the flames and sent more blades spinning toward her. They struck a dark fire shield and shattered.

    That explained it. The girl had reserved some of her power for defense. Alden wasn¡¯t certain whether he should be grateful or not. At least he didn¡¯t have to face her full strength with each blast.

    A golden lance of power struck the shield from above. Lon came flying down out of the sun. A second and third blast got deflected. Alden sent more blades. The first four splintered, but the last pierced the girl¡¯s chest with enough force that the tip emerged from her back.

    She didn¡¯t make a sound or appear bothered by a three-inch-wide wound in her chest. The scythe went up and a ring of hellfire blasted out in every direction. Alden and Lon went flying out of control.

    Imogen braced Alden a second later, stopping his tumble before he flew too far.

    ¡°She¡¯s already dead,¡± Imogen said. ¡°The scythe is just using the body like a puppet.¡±

    ¡°We need to cut her strings.¡±

    Imogen nodded. ¡°You read my mind. You want to do the sword or the shield?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do the shield. You were always better at cutting than me.¡±

    The black flames burned out. Lon had been blown fifty feet away, but he looked unharmed. A few wisps of smoke rose from Lon¡¯s clothes and hair. Mostly unharmed, anyway.

    ¡°Ready?¡± Imogen had conjured a golden ax that fairly thrummed with soul force.

    Alden nodded and said a silent prayer that he had enough soul force left to sever the connection between the scythe and its bearer.

    Imogen dove like a falcon, her body a blur as she powered down at the girl. The scythe went up. A second too late.

    The golden ax crashed through the girl¡¯s hellfire barrier and sliced her hand off at the wrist. The weapon clattered to the roof below.

    The girl raised such a howl that Alden almost forgot to shield the scythe. He conjured a golden hemisphere around the weapon.

    The horse bucked and the girl continued to howl. For someone that didn¡¯t breathe she certainly could raise a racket. Cracks formed as the scythe fought to reestablish the link with its puppet.

    Alden clenched his teeth and sent more energy into the shield. It wasn¡¯t going to be enough. In a second or two the shield would collapse and the fight resume. He simply didn¡¯t have enough strength to hold it.

 3.35

    When Lon finally regained his senses from the hellfire blast he found Alden struggling to maintain a shield around the scythe. Imogen clutched her abdomen and limped through the sky like a deflating hot air balloon. He hesitated a moment then reinforced Alden¡¯s shield. He could help Imogen afterwards. If the shield broke none of them were in any shape to keep fighting.

    The girl¡¯s howling was enough to drive a man mad and with her mount¡¯s thrashing it was a wonder she stayed on its back. Gradually the horse slowed. Its chest sunk in, exposing ribs. As a disgusted Lon watched, both horse and rider rotted away, ending as nothing more than a puddle of liquefied meat and hair.

    When the ooze stopped bubbling Lon let his shield fade. Alden did the same, settling on the roof and bending over, gasping for air or gagging Lon couldn¡¯t tell. He flew over to Imogen and helped her down to the roof.

    ¡°Let me see.¡±

    She grimaced and moved her arm aside. ¡°I wasn¡¯t quite fast enough.¡±

    Her dress was slashed open and the flesh underneath gashed wide enough to expose her insides. Lon winced. Messy, but he could heal her, at least enough to make it safe to transport her to Sasha over at the navy fort. He wasn¡¯t going to lose her like he did that poor devil back at the village.

    Lon had just finished sealing all the rents in her intestines when Alden managed to hobble over. ¡°How is she?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll live.¡± Lon kept his focus on healing. ¡°An inch deeper and we might be having a different conversation. How are you?¡±

    ¡°Battered, burned, and almost out of power, but I¡¯ll recover.¡±

    Half an hour later Lon had Imogen as healed as he could under the circumstances. She¡¯d need one of the dedicated healers to take a look at her, but he¡¯d reduced the danger of her dying to a minimal level. ¡°Can you fly on your own?¡±

    Imogen winced and nodded. ¡°I can make it to the fort. Thanks for the patching up.¡±

    Lon smiled. ¡°My pleasure.¡± He turned to Alden. ¡°I can manage the artifacts if you can get the bodies.¡±

    The three of them flew north, the remains of their opponents surrounded by soul force bubbles. When they landed in the courtyard Sasha and the sorcerer assigned to the navy base were there to greet them. Seeing their sad state Sasha immediately assumed control of the bubbles protecting the remains. The duty sorcerer helped Alden and Imogen make their ginger way into the fort leaving Sasha and Lon alone in the yard.

    ¡°You three look like hell,¡± Sasha said. ¡°Where¡¯s Chun?¡±

    Lon shook his head. ¡°Didn¡¯t make it. There were some civilian casualties as well. And one of the enemy escaped, again. One of these days I¡¯m going to corner that lunatic and make her pay for what she¡¯s done. Well, at least now we know who the leak is.¡±

    ¡°We think we know. Thomas will question her to be certain.¡± She nodded toward the bubbles. ¡°What¡¯s the deal with these?¡±

    Lon explained the artifacts and their bearers. ¡°They didn¡¯t have much skill. In fact we¡¯re pretty sure the girl was already dead when we fought her. I¡¯d like to know where they found such powerful weapons.¡±

    ¡°I think we both know the answer to that,¡± Sasha said. ¡°Connor Blackman.¡±

    ¡°I meant I wonder where they came from originally. That scythe especially took a master of binding to create. I doubt Connor or anyone else living in the kingdom has the skill to create something like that.¡±

    ¡°They need to be destroyed and the bodies purified.¡±

    ¡°I know, but I haven¡¯t the strength to do it myself and I¡¯m afraid of what might happen if we break them in the city.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Lidia went to the capital yesterday to consult with the king. She¡¯s supposed to return tomorrow. When she gets here the three of us can deal with these artifacts. Until then we¡¯ll have to take turns guarding them. I want a barrier around both the bodies and the weapons at all times.¡±

    ¡°Good call. Can you take the first watch? I still need to talk to the Blackman family.¡±

    Sasha frowned. ¡°That female sorcerer is still on the loose. Are you certain you want to go through with the meeting?¡±

    ¡°Yes. It shouldn¡¯t take long and if they know something and we don¡¯t make the effort¡­¡±

    ¡°Understood. If you¡¯re not back in two hours I¡¯ll send my subordinate to check on you.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Lon conjured a griffin, climbed aboard, and flew towards Lord¡¯s district. The Blackman clan lived three mansions down from the Santens. It took less than a minute for him to make the flight.

    The Blackman¡¯s mansion wasn¡¯t as sprawling as the Santen¡¯s, but it was still bigger than the navy fort. Manicured grounds with white stone paths surrounded the white-painted main house. Lon brought the griffin down beside a bubbling fountain. Four guards in mail covered with black tabards surrounded him the moment his griffin touched the ground. Their spears trembled and they eyed the griffin with nervous glances.

    Lon hopped to the ground and let his mount vanish. ¡°I¡¯m Lon Shen, I believe your mistress is expecting me.¡±

    The youngest of the guards ran off toward the main house leaving Lon surrounded by the other three. He smiled and tried to look nonthreatening. ¡°You can put those spears down. I don¡¯t mean anyone here any harm and if I did those wouldn¡¯t help you.¡±

    The guards pointed their weapons away from him, but the tension remained. They leaned on the spears and the four of them stood in awkward silence until five minutes later when the fourth guard returned.

    ¡°You can go on up, sir. Apologies for the delay.¡±

    Lon waved his hand and the men jumped back three feet. He sighed. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Thank you for the welcome. Good afternoon.¡±

    Lon left the much-relieved guards to return to their posts and walked up to the main house. Three steps passed between white pillars. A boy in black servant¡¯s garb stood at a set of polished double doors. He pushed them open at Lon¡¯s approach. He nodded as he passed the young man who pulled the doors shut behind him. Inside the doors waited a white marble foyer. An elegant woman in a black dress wearing a string of pearls as big as Lon¡¯s knuckles sat in a simple cherrywood chair.

    ¡°Mrs. Blackman?¡±

    ¡°Master Shen.¡± She gestured toward the empty chair opposite her. ¡°Please sit.¡±

    Lon took her up on her offer. It seemed she didn¡¯t plan to let him any deeper into her home than necessary. ¡°I appreciate you speaking to me.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware I had a choice. Ask your questions and be gone.¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. Tell me about Connor.¡±

    Her thin face twisted into a scowl. ¡°That again. My son disappeared years ago. What possible interest could you have in him after all this time?¡±

    ¡°Connor has reappeared.¡± Mrs. Blackman¡¯s sharply drawn breath appeared genuine. She was either a superb actress or she really didn¡¯t know about her son. ¡°Apparently with a hatred for the kingdom. He¡¯s already done a great deal of damage and we hope to find him before he does any more. Anything you can tell me would help.¡±

    She leaned toward him, green eyes as hard as emeralds. ¡°Connor was a good boy, Master Shen. He didn¡¯t torture small animals or beat up the other children. Whatever happened to him happened after you people took him to The Tower. After he completed his training and returned home he wasn¡¯t the same person.¡±

    ¡°How do you mean?¡±

    ¡°He was cool, distant, like he didn¡¯t want anything to do with us anymore. In fact he only visited three times before he vanished. I was very close to my son and it hurt more than you can understand, watching him slipping away.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± That sounded lame to Lon so he could imagine how it sounded to her. ¡°Did he ever mention anything he was working on? Anywhere he planned to explore?¡±

    ¡°No. In fact he hardly spoke to us at all. I¡¯m not entirely certain why he came home those last few times.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps he was trying to convince himself not to go through with whatever he has planned.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. I like to think he wanted to visit me again before he left.¡±

    ¡°Did he mention anyone, a friend or teacher he was especially close to?¡± Lon had a sick feeling and sent a silent prayer to the archangels that he was wrong. If Lenore was more than a spy Thomas could be walking into a trap.

    She cocked her head slightly as she considered. ¡°Now that you mention it Connor did mention someone in his letters. It¡¯s funny, I thought perhaps he had a crush. Her name was Lenore and she was two years ahead of him. Is something wrong?¡±

    She must have noticed his expression. ¡°No, you¡¯ve just connected a couple dots for me. You¡¯ve been a great help, Mrs. Blackman, thank you.¡±

    Lon rushed out of the Blackman estate and hurtled into the air the instant he cleared the doors. He had to get back to the fort and warn them. Lenore was more than just a spy. She was most likely the one responsible for turning Connor into a monster. Thomas needed to be warned. If he went to her at less than full strength it could be a massacre.

 3.36

    Sweat dripped off Eli as he left Master Soren¡¯s training room. The gray-haired master might be in his sixties, but Eli still had trouble keeping up with him. He¡¯d pushed Eli hard, but he still managed to hit every target Master Soren had conjured. Eli grinned, stepped out onto the landing, and shut the door behind him. He¡¯d pass the final test next time for sure.

    Eli barely managed to clear the doorway when he had to move aside for a grim-faced headmaster leading three teachers up the steps. They stalked past without so much as a nod of greeting. What had happened to put the normally happy old man in such a mood? Curious, Eli followed along behind.

    He didn¡¯t have far to go. On the next floor the group exchanged nods and went into the library. Eli slipped in behind them and touched the headmaster on the shoulder. He paused while the other teachers continued deeper into the library.

    ¡°Is everything all right, Master?¡±

    The wrinkles on the headmaster¡¯s forehead deepened. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here, boy. Run along, now.¡±

    ¡°Please, Master, I¡¯d like to help.¡±

    The three masters had moved over to the central desk and were speaking with the librarian. Her eyes darted from one face to the next, her fingers drumming on the countertop.

    The headmaster grabbed Eli¡¯s arm and spun him around. ¡°There are four more students scattered around the library. If you want to be of use, find them and get them out. Quick now.¡±

    Eli nodded. ¡°Yes, Master.¡±

    Curiosity burned in Eli, but he didn¡¯t dare push the old man any further. Whatever was happening, it must be serious. He slipped through the stacks, eyes and ears straining along with his sorcerous senses as he searched for the students. He rounded a bookcase and found one of the first-year girls reading a book on basic shaping.

    She looked up when Eli approached. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°We need to clear the library, headmaster¡¯s orders.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    An explosion shook the room. Books rained down to the floor and the girl squealed. Eli knew just how she felt. ¡°Head to the door. I have to find the others.¡±

    She clutched his arm. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me alone. I¡¯ll come with you.¡±

    He didn¡¯t have time to argue with her. ¡°Stay close.¡±

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.She nodded, her eyes as big as tea cups.

    Eli led her by the hand deeper into the library. Through a gap in the bookcases he caught glimpses of black flames mingled with gold lightning. They were fighting a battle, but with who?

    The girl¡¯s hand trembled in his grasp. ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡±

    Join the club. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, the headmaster¡¯s here. Whatever the problem is, he¡¯ll handle it.¡±

    They found the next student, a second-year boy, cowering under a table. Eli crouched down. ¡°We need to go.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere. It¡¯s a war out there.¡±

    ¡°All the more reason to go. We don¡¯t want to get caught up in it. Come on, headmaster¡¯s orders.¡±

    Eli sensed the power a moment before it struck. He threw himself on top of the girl and conjured a desperate shield. Black flames roared over them. Bookcases and their contents disintegrated in an instant. Even with the shield the corruption twisted his guts. It took everything he had not to throw up on the weeping girl.

    When the flames subsided Eli sat up. The boy was breathing, but his body was red and blistered. An alley had been burned through the library. At the end of it the librarian hurled handfuls of black flames at the teachers and headmaster.

    Her normally tightly bound hair danced like a nest of serpents and every few blasts she cackled like a madwoman.

    He pulled the girl up. ¡°You have to help me. I need you to get this young man out of here. Can you do that?¡±

    She sniffed. ¡°His name is Chad. He helped me with my constructs.¡±

    The girl concentrated and a golden disk appeared under Chad and lifted him off the floor. ¡°I can do it.¡±

    ¡°Good girl. Hurry.¡±

    Eli watched until the girl slipped out the library door. He sighed and moved on, glad he¡¯d managed to get at least two people out in one piece. Another blast shook the room raining books down on Eli¡¯s head. He clenched his jaw and kept going.

    A blast had blown apart three bookcases, leaving a hill of books and jagged wood in his way. After a moment¡¯s hesitation he slipped around the left side, keeping the pile between him and the battle. Halfway around he tripped and staggered a couple of steps.

    He spun and found an arm jutting partway out of the pile. ¡°Heaven¡¯s mercy.¡±

    No soul force stirred under the debris. Whoever he tripped over was dead. Eli thought he should dig the unfortunate student out, but feared drawing attention. He touched the dead boy¡¯s hand. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Feeling like a coward, Eli left the body where it lay and went to find the last student. Please let them be alive.

    He hadn¡¯t taken more than a few steps when the library went dead silent. He peeked around a bookcase. No flames or lightning filled the air. The headmaster stood with his head bowed beside one of the teachers.

    Eli tiptoed their way. Three bodies lay on the ground, blackened and twisted. The only way he could distinguish the librarian was by her glasses. They¡¯d partly melted and fused to her face.

    Eli stared at the corpses. He didn¡¯t want to, but he couldn¡¯t stop looking. He¡¯d seen a dead body once, at his grandfather¡¯s funeral, but he¡¯d only looked asleep. This was beyond anything Eli ever imagined. And the smell, like rotten meat, was worse than the sight.

    The headmaster moved into Eli¡¯s line of sight. ¡°It¡¯s unfortunate you had to witness this. Let¡¯s get you out of here.¡±

    Eli was rooted to the spot. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Nothing you need to worry about.¡± The headmaster tugged his arm. ¡°It¡¯s over now. Come on.¡±

    Eli followed him toward the door. ¡°I found one of the others. He¡¯s buried under a pile of books. I didn¡¯t even dig him out.¡±

    ¡°You saved two of them. I need you to take them and yourself to the healers. I can rely on you do that, can¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± Eli grasped the task the headmaster gave him like a starving man thrown a loaf of bread. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it.

 3.37

    Damien sat in the front of the ship, a conjured fishing pole in his hands, the breeze blowing through his hair. Instead of bait he¡¯d conjured a little viewing sphere and connected it to the rod by a thin line of soul force. It wasn¡¯t really fair to the fish. Whenever he spotted one on his viewing rectangle he sent a blast of soul force through the line. It was a simple matter to pull the dead fish up on deck where the ship¡¯s boy would grab it and run it down to the galley.

    Damien spent long hours each day pulling enough fish from the ocean so everyone on board could enjoy a fresh meal at supper time. His generosity had kept the crew in a good mood, but no one would talk to him. He suspected the captain had told them to keep their distance.

    Over the snap of the canvas came a creak from the deck boards behind him. Damien glanced over his shoulder to find Captain Velco striding up the stairs to the little raised platform where he sat. Today the captain wore billowing pants that appeared to be made of sail cloth and an unbuttoned leather vest that displayed his hairy chest. Damien shuddered and wished he had a traveling companion as attractive as Lane or better yet Lizzy, to keep him company.

    ¡°Having any luck today?¡± Velco asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m halfway through the day¡¯s catch. In my wildest dreams I never imagined this was how I¡¯d be spending my name day.¡±

    ¡°Happy name day. You¡¯re in for a treat. We¡¯re far enough out to sea now. As soon as the lookouts spot a pod of whales we¡¯re going to start the hunt.¡±

    Thank all the angels in heaven. Though it wasn¡¯t his place Damien needed to try one last time. ¡°Are you certain you want to go through with this? I¡¯ve seen what a dragon can do. If your sorcerers have miscalculated you might get everyone killed.¡±

    ¡°Including you?¡±

    Damien smiled at the implication that he was scared. ¡°No, not including me. I intend to fly a safe distance away from the ships when you start your mission. I¡¯m here to watch, not commit suicide.¡±

    ¡°Have no fear, my young friend. Everyone knew what they were getting into when they signed up for this voyage. I have a strong crew and I trust my sorcerers. Rest assured the dragon will die.¡±

    Damien nodded. He¡¯d tried his best. Whatever happened now was on Velco¡¯s head.

    ¡°She blows to starboard!¡± the lookout shouted from up in the crow¡¯s nest.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Damien absorbed his rod and looked left. The ocean looked smooth and calm right up to the horizon.

    Beside him Velco chuckled. ¡°Starboard¡¯s the other way.¡±

    Damien turned right just as a white spout sprayed into the air followed a second later by a tail twice as wide as he was tall. He¡¯d seen drawings of whales, but they paled in comparison to the reality of the beasts.

    Shouts from the crew distracted Damien from the display. Sailors ran around gathering supplies. Two of them carried twelve-foot harpoons, their razor-sharp tips gleaming in the sun. Sixteen men piled into two boats a quarter of the size of the whales they meant to hunt. While he didn¡¯t think much of the brains of anyone that willingly signed up to hunt a dragon he couldn¡¯t fault the sailors¡¯ courage.

    Velco clapped him on the back. ¡°Sure you don¡¯t want to go along? It¡¯s quite a thrill.¡±

    ¡°No, thank you.¡±

    Velco left him in the front of the ship and made his way back to the wheel, barking orders as he went. Damien extended his awareness out into the wider ocean. If the Leviathan was anywhere close he¡¯d sense it.

    The hunters had lowered their little boats and were pulling hard for the pod of whales. As they drew closer one man stood in the front of each boat, a harpoon ready in his hand. It looked like the boats were racing to see who¡¯d reach the whales first.

    One of the smaller whales¡ªsmaller being a relative term when speaking of hundred-foot-long animals¡ªbreached twenty feet from the lead boat.

    The harpooner never hesitated. His harpoon flew true, piercing deep into the beast¡¯s pebbly hide. The whale took off, towing the tiny boat along behind it like a toy, the sailors whooping and hollering as the spray blew over them.

    At the rear of the Longshot Velco barked orders and soon they were in pursuit. The other ships of the flotilla maneuvered as well. It looked to Damien like they planned to circle the smaller boats with the big ones. Not wanting to get mixed up in whatever was about to happen Damien flew three hundred feet into the air above the ships. His position afforded an excellent view of the maneuvering vessels.

    The whale stopped and the small boats rowed closer. The harpooner had a long slender spear in his hand. When the boat sidled up to the exhausted whale he thrust it deep into the beast¡¯s head. The dying creature thrashed and its blood stained the water red. The harpooner continued to push his spear deeper until finally the whale stopped moving. A cheer went up from the men in the two boats.

    A spark of corruption drew Damien¡¯s attention away from the slaughter and over to the ships. At the front of three of the larger vessels, sorcerers stood with what looked like black jars held above their heads. A potent aura of corruption surrounded the jars. Those had to be the weapons they planned to use on the Leviathan, but what did they do?

    A minute passed, then five, and still no sign of the dragon. Finally, the dead whale was dragged over to Velco¡¯s ship and they began the process of rendering the animal¡¯s fat into oil. A fire was started in the furnace on deck and when it was hot enough chunks of reeking blubber were fed into it. A roiling cloud of stinking black smoke soon wreathed the ships.

    The smoke and stench distracted Damien and he lost track of the sorcerers. Before he realized they had moved, the sense of corruption had vanished. The jars must be back in their rooms behind whatever wards they used to keep Damien from sensing their demonic aura.

    He needed to let the archmage know what was happening.

 3.38

    For two days, reeking black smoke billowed from the furnace as the crew worked around the clock to process the massive carcass. After several failed attempts Damien managed to conjure a filter that kept the smoke and most of the smell out of his nose, allowing him to breathe freely. If any of the process bothered either the captain or crew they gave no sign of it. In fact most of them seemed thrilled, none more so than Velco.

    The captain walked up to Damien where he stood in the front of the ship. ¡°Quite a process, isn¡¯t it? We¡¯ll need to kill twenty to fill all four ships.¡±

    Damien shuddered at the thought of having to watch nineteen more whales rendered down. ¡°The crew seems pleased, especially considering how nasty the job is.¡±

    ¡°Ha! Are you kidding? No one¡¯s seen a beast that big in our old hunting grounds in twenty years. And the one we killed was small next to some of its pod. There¡¯s a fortune in oil just swimming around out here.¡±

    ¡°What about the dragon?¡±

    Velco shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a big ocean and if the stories are true the monster sometimes travels to other parts of the world. It¡¯ll show sooner or later and if it doesn¡¯t we¡¯ll collect four shiploads of oil for our efforts. Win-win in my eyes.¡±

    Damien grunted. Hopefully it would be sooner rather than later. He¡¯d come to the conclusion that the life of a sailor wasn¡¯t for him. ¡°What do you know about those jars the sorcerers were carrying?¡±

    Velco¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Noticed those, did you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d have to be blind to miss them. They¡¯ve got a nasty aura of corruption. You realize they¡¯re demonic artifacts.¡±

    ¡°The sorcerers tell me those urns used to hold the remains of an especially powerful demon and that¡¯s what makes them appear corrupt. I don¡¯t really care as long as they get the job done.¡±

    Velco returned to supervising the last of the rendering. Damien shook his head as he watched him go. Nothing good ever came from demonic artifacts. Unfortunately, short of sinking the ships and leaving the crew to drown, he couldn¡¯t think of anything he could do to stop them from using the dangerous items.

    Damien flew down to the sorcerer¡¯s cabin. Maybe he could convince her to let him take a look at the urns. The closed door had a pentagram engraved on it. He knocked and a few seconds later the door opened a fraction. A frowning face appeared in the narrow opening. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to take a look at the demon urn.¡± Damien offered his best smile.

    ¡°No.¡± She slammed the door in his face.

    She wasn¡¯t getting any friendlier with time. He knocked again.

    The door opened the same fraction. ¡°Can¡¯t you take a hint? I don¡¯t want to talk. I don¡¯t need a friend, and I¡¯m certainly not going to show you such a rare artifact.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Damien asked before she slammed the door again.

    She blinked, surprised by the question. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous.¡±

    That was a weak excuse and from the twist of her lips he suspected she knew it. ¡°Come on, I¡¯m a sorcerer too. I¡¯m not going to do anything foolish. I haven¡¯t had another sorcerer to talk shop with in weeks. Please, I¡¯m bored.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Her expression softened. ¡°We can talk, but I¡¯m not showing you the urn.¡±

    Damien grinned. ¡°Deal.¡±

    She opened the door the rest of the way and he stepped inside. Her cabin wasn¡¯t much different than his in general layout, but where his was almost empty hers was jammed full of trinkets, scrolls, books and every other bit of sorcerous paraphernalia imaginable. It almost looked like she wanted to prove how much of a sorcerer she was just with decorations.

    He looked around for a place to sit, but the only places were her sea trunk and a smaller box covered in runes that he suspected held the urn. He had no intention of sitting on it and burning his ass with hellfire.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive the mess. I seldom have company.¡±

    Damien conjured a chair in one of the few empty spots on the floor and sat down. ¡°No problem. Besides, it¡¯s nice to visit a lived-in room for a change. I can¡¯t seem to stay in one place long enough to make a room my own.¡±

    She had a pretty smile, though it seemed she didn¡¯t use it much. ¡°The others tell me I¡¯m a cluttered mess, but I like it like this.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Damien.¡± He held out his hand.

    She hesitated then shook with him. ¡°Salem. I¡¯m not very good at talking.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re doing just fine. Don¡¯t worry, like anything else, practice makes perfect.¡±

    Salem sat on the sea chest across from him. ¡°You seem nice. The others said¡­¡±

    ¡°What did they say?¡± He guessed they¡¯d told her all sorts of things to make her too afraid to talk to him.

    She chewed her lip a moment then said, ¡°They told me you¡¯re a spy and that you¡¯ll try and stop us from completing our mission.¡±

    ¡°I am a spy, at least in as much as it¡¯s my job to keep an eye on you and make certain you do nothing that might threaten the kingdom. Beyond that I have no interest in what you and your companions are planning.¡±

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s fair enough. We don¡¯t have any interest in your kingdom, only in killing the dragon.¡±

    Damien had serious doubts, but she seemed to believe it. The others were clearly not telling her everything. ¡°In that case there¡¯s no reason we can¡¯t be friends, right?¡±

    Her big, blue eyes stared at him. ¡°You want to be friends? With me?¡±

    ¡°Sure. You¡¯re a sweet, pretty girl. Why wouldn¡¯t I want to be friends with you?¡±

    Her pale skin turned pink. ¡°I¡­I¡¯ve never had any friends. Just my sister and then David. Our master lived in seclusion and we seldom saw anyone beyond the farmers that brought us food and supplies and they¡¯d never speak.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s bad luck for a normal person to speak with a sorcerer. Everyone knows that.¡±

    Damien smiled. She spoke such absolute rubbish with complete conviction. It was sweet and sad at the same time. ¡°How come you didn¡¯t want to talk to me? Was it just because the others told you I was a spy?¡±

    ¡°That and you scared me a little, when we first met.¡±

    ¡°Ah, well, that was just to avoid a fight. Sometimes a little intimidation can save lives. I am sorry I frightened you. I¡¯m a gentle soul once you get to know me.¡±

    She smiled again and this time it reached her eyes. ¡°I believe you. I think, perhaps, we will be friends.¡±

    ¡°Good. What about your sister and David? If you tell them I don¡¯t intend to interfere they¡¯d be willing to speak to me as well.¡±

    ¡°David won¡¯t.¡± Her smile faded. ¡°Sometimes he¡¯s not so nice, but Maishi is devoted to him. She does whatever he says, no questions.¡±

    ¡°Does David have a last name?¡±

    ¡°Weks. He doesn¡¯t use it often, but when we first met him by the docks he introduced himself with his full name.¡±

    Damien only half heard her once she said David¡¯s last name. It had to be the same David Weks from the headmaster¡¯s list: Connor¡¯s yearmate. How had he ended up in the Old Empire and then on a whale hunting ship? It couldn¡¯t be a coincidence.

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± Salem asked.

    He¡¯d completely lost track of the conversation. ¡°Sorry, my mind wandered. With all the smoke and stink I haven¡¯t slept well the last several nights. I think I¡¯ll head to my bunk and catch a nap. If you¡¯re willing, I¡¯d very much like to talk to you again.¡±

    ¡°I¡­I¡¯d like that too. Perhaps I could make tea.¡±

    ¡°Tea sounds wonderful.¡± Damien rose, absorbed his construct, and bowed to Salem. ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure.¡±

    She opened the door for him and Damien took his leave. He strolled away until she shut the door. The moment she did he rushed back to his room. He needed to let his master know David Weks was here.

 3.39

    Lon slammed his fist on the table when Sasha finished reading the letter Thomas had sent. They sat in a meeting room with the archmage. A full day had passed since the attack and Alden and Imogen had made a full recovery. The Legionnaires had returned to the capital to resume their duties.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have sent the letter telling him we knew Lenore was the traitor,¡± Sasha said. Given where the attack took place it hadn¡¯t taken much effort to figure out Lenore had betrayed them to Connor. When Thomas confronted her she attacked, killing two students, three masters, and herself.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± the archmage said. ¡°The only one who did anything wrong was Lenore. You can¡¯t blame yourself.¡± She turned her intense gaze on Lon. ¡°Either of you.¡±

    Lon slumped in his chair. He knew the archmage was correct, but he couldn¡¯t keep from blaming himself. If he¡¯d only gotten back from his interview with Mrs. Blackman sooner he could have warned them. Lenore was the one that corrupted Connor. She¡¯d seen his interest in demons and twisted that childish curiosity into something monstrous. From the journals Thomas had found hidden in her room it appeared Lenore had been a member of the Cult of the Horned One for years before Connor first vanished.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°They found nothing that would give us an idea of where to look for him?¡± the archmage asked.

    ¡°Not according to Thomas,¡± Sasha said. ¡°They¡¯re giving everything a second and third look, but it doesn¡¯t sound promising.¡±

    ¡°How did she sneak a black ring into The Tower anyway?¡± Lon asked.

    ¡°She kept it in a box that hid its aura of corruption.¡± Sasha got up and paced for a second. ¡°We badly underestimated her. We can¡¯t make that mistake again.¡±

    Lon didn¡¯t think she¡¯d find anyone to argue with her on that. They brooded in glum silence, each thinking their own thoughts. Lon sensed a power approaching, not corrupt, thank heaven. He didn¡¯t think he could handle another battle just now.

    The archmage perked up as well. ¡°A message from Damien.¡±

    She concentrated, sending a beam of soul force to intercept Damien¡¯s messenger. The beam zipped out the door and a second later returned with a small scroll. The archmage unrolled it and shook her head. ¡°It appears rumors of David Weks¡¯s death have been exaggerated.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Lon accepted the scroll when she offered it. He muttered to himself as he read then looked up. ¡°How did he travel to the Old Empire and who did I find wearing his ring?¡±

    ¡°Two excellent questions. We¡¯ll have to be certain to ask him when he arrives.¡± Looking at the archmage¡¯s stony expression Lon was glad she didn¡¯t plan to ask him any questions.

 3.40

    ¡°Why kill the dragon?¡±

    Damien was once again sitting on a conjured chair in Salem¡¯s cramped cabin. Across from him the girl was using sorcery to brew tea. Considering how much paper she kept in her room it was probably a good idea to avoid fire. Damien had joined her for tea and conversation twice more since their first visit a week ago. Salem was gradually relaxing in his company and he¡¯d managed to tease out a few more details of her life.

    Not a lot, but some. The girl was surprisingly hesitant to talk about herself. So far he¡¯d learned that Salem and her sister were banished from their village when the local witch noticed they had external flowing soul force. Not that she put it that way. Apparently some of the details of how sorcery worked hadn¡¯t made it to the remote village where they grew up.

    Anyway, once the village found out about their abilities no one would have anything to do with them. The last words their mother spoke to them was to tell them about a sorcerer who lived in the mountains. With no other options they¡¯d traveled to find the sorcerer who took them in and trained them.

    Salem poured tea into a pair of battered tin cups and handed him one. Damien took a sip. Mint and lemon. He¡¯d never tasted anything like it in the kingdom.

    She watched him over the rim of her steaming cup. ¡°Is it good?¡±

    ¡°Very, thank you. We have nothing like this back home.¡±

    ¡°This variety only grows around my village.¡± She took a sip. ¡°It reminds me of home.¡±

    They drank in silence for a minute. Damien was about to ask his question again when she said, ¡°Our master told us before he died, ¡®Man is capable of anything he puts his mind to.¡¯ To honor him Maishi and I set out to accomplish the most difficult task we could imagine. We¡¯d debated several other ideas when we met David and told him of our quest. He mentioned the Leviathan and suggested nothing could be more difficult than killing the most powerful creature on the planet. Maishi seized on that at once.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t agree?¡±

    ¡°I thought we could find a task that didn¡¯t involve killing anything. But once my sister made up her mind nothing would change it. I wouldn¡¯t abandon her so I had no choice but to accept her decision. David told us about the urns and the three of us set out to collect them. Once we¡¯d done that it wasn¡¯t hard to find Captain Velco and convince him to take us out hunting.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°It seems like a terrible risk. I¡¯ve fought a dragon, a weak one, if there is such a thing, and I only hurt it. I doubt I¡¯d have nerve enough to take on the strongest of the five.¡±

    Shouts from outside interrupted their chat. The lookout had spotted more spouts. Salem leapt to her feet. ¡°I have to prepare.¡±

    Damien got up and put a hand on her arm. ¡°Please be careful.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, don¡¯t worry.¡±

    He left Salem to prepare and went out on deck. Sailors were readying their hunting supplies and loading the little boats. Captain Velco stood at the wheel and bellowed encouragement. Damien couldn¡¯t get over how much noise the process entailed. Shouts and laughter mingled with the clanging of harpoons and spears.

    Damien flew up to three times the height of the mast and looked in the same direction as the lookout. From this height the whales were easy to spot. They resembled dark gray shadows on the water. Every minute or two one of the giants would blow a spout of water ten feet into the air.

    Below him the little boats settled in the water and the sailors immediately pulled toward the pod. Two more boats launched from another member of the flotilla. It appeared Captain Velco had decided if one dead whale wasn¡¯t enough to draw the dragon¡¯s attention, maybe two would do it. Damien shook his head at the stupidity of the whole proceeding.

    The boats from Velco¡¯s ship reached the pod first and, like before, the harpooner did his job, sinking his weapon deep into a whale at the edge of the pod. A second later they were off to the races. The tiny boat hooked to twenty tons of angry animal flew north. The rest of the ships followed along.

    Damien was trying to figure out how the second group of hunters would coax their prey to swim in the same direction when one of the whales, a monster twice the size of the first one they harpooned, turned and charged the pursuing skiffs. The harpooner hurled his weapon, but the rushed shot didn¡¯t hit square and bounced off the whale¡¯s thick hide.

    The harpooner in the second skiff raised his weapon, but the whale dove. Its head went down and its tail came up. The shattered first skiff went flying one way and its occupants the other.

    The whale swam away, seeming content that it had made its point. Damien considered flying down to help when a massive power to the east drew his attention.

    His body trembled.

    He¡¯d never felt anything this strong before. The combined might of every sorcerer in the kingdom wouldn¡¯t equal the power drawing ever nearer. Every fiber of his being screamed that he should flee.

    Down below, the hunters were in the process of slaying the harpooned whale. Velco¡¯s ships sailed into position, Salem and the others standing in the front of three of the ships. They had to sense the approaching dragon. It was so powerful he suspected the ordinary sailors might sense it.

    Damien studied the ocean. It didn¡¯t take him long to spot the massive, sinuous shadow approaching. It seemed to go on forever. Three, four, maybe five hundred yards long. It didn¡¯t seem possible such a huge creature could exist.

    It dove out of sight.

    Velco was still maneuvering his ships to circle the dead whale. Corrupt power radiated from the urns in the sorcerers¡¯ hands. Despite himself Damien flew closer. Something titanic was about to happen and he needed to see it.

 3.41

    Damien hovered above the mast of Velco¡¯s ship, the tension in the air almost visible. He wanted to shout at them to sail away, but it wouldn¡¯t do any good. This was what they wanted.

    The Leviathan swam right below them. Damien sensed rather than saw the dragon speed toward the surface.

    A second later it burst from the water, jaws agape, the whole whale as well as the skiff and sailors caught between teeth so long they resembled ships¡¯ masts. Two men leapt clear before those jaws snapped shut. Pieces of the less fortunate men fell to the water behind them.

    Black lightning shot from the three urns. The corrupt power surrounded the Leviathan. It hovered half in the air and half underwater.

    Corrupt lightning sparked off emerald scales. Everywhere the blasts hit a tiny spot of darkness appeared for a second before vanishing.

    A pained scream caught Damien¡¯s attention. Dragging his gaze away from the dragon he spotted Salem on her knees in the front of Velco¡¯s ship.

    He studied the flows of dark energy. All the corruption was focused on Salem. David and her sister were sending their overflow through the connection between the urns. It was killing Salem.

    The Leviathan roared. Jade soul force pulsed from its body.

    The black lost its coherence, the energy fading away to nothing. On the ships all three sorcerers collapsed. Their urns rolled around the decks of their respective vessels.

    Damien turned back and found himself staring into a yellow eye, the vertical, black pupil as long as the whalers¡¯ harpoons.

    Damien knew there were no gods. He¡¯d learned the stories as a child. The two true gods had died at the dawn of the universe and given birth to the races of angels, demons, and dragons. When he stared into the eye of the Leviathan he had no trouble believing this creature to be divine in origin. It radiated power so intense it made the ice dragon Damien had fought seem like a rock lizard.

    Was this how normal people felt when they encountered a sorcerer? No. Regular people couldn¡¯t sense Damien¡¯s power the way he did the dragon¡¯s.

    Its gaze held no malice or anger. It also held no pity or remorse. The sailors¡¯ tales, describing the dragon as a force of nature, were absolutely correct. This magnificent creature would destroy them all or swim away as its whim decided. Nothing a being as insignificant as a human could do would influence it.

    A dull thud broke the connection between dragon and human. Damien looked down to see a ballista bolt falling into the ocean. On the deck Velco and a pair of sailors worked frantically to reload the weapon. What could they possibly imagine that would accomplish?

    He dove for the ship, pushing with every drop of power he had. If Velco wanted to die out here he was welcome to, but Damien wouldn¡¯t let the captain take Salem down too.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.Damien sent twin beams of golden energy streaking toward the deck.

    Above him the Leviathan plunged toward the ship. Heaven¡¯s mercy, this was going to be close.

    Damien formed a bubble around Salem and another around the urn. He pulled them both off the deck and towards him.

    They had barely cleared the ship when the dragon¡¯s head struck.

    The Longshot exploded. Splinters of wood went everywhere. Damien circled around. He wouldn¡¯t try and fight the dragon, there wasn¡¯t any point. He couldn¡¯t help the surviving sailors with the dragon still circling the intact ships, but he wanted to collect the other two urns. Those artifacts were too powerful to take a chance on someone else finding them.

    He flew to Maishi¡¯s ship first. Salem¡¯s sister lay groaning on the deck, struggling to climb to her feet. Damien grabbed the urn with another energy beam and pulled it into the same bubble as the first.

    ¡°Maishi!¡± he shouted.

    She looked up.

    Behind them the Leviathan rose from the depths again, a whole ship in its massive jaws. It bit down, crushing the ship without a sorcerer to pieces. Bodies and debris fell like overripe fruit into the water.

    ¡°Your sister¡¯s okay. We need to go.¡±

    ¡°David!¡± Maishi flew away, ignoring both him and her sister.

    Damien raced after her, intent on claiming the last urn. He hadn¡¯t flown far when the crash of the Leviathan smashing the ship they¡¯d just left to splinters behind them filled the air. Damien grimaced and put on more speed. It wouldn¡¯t take the dragon long to swing around and sink the final ship.

    Maishi reached the last ship a second ahead of him. David was stumbling around like a drunk after the urn as it rolled around on the deck. There was no sign of the crew. Damien suspected they¡¯d had the good sense to jump overboard. Not like that would save them if the dragon decided it wanted them dead.

    Damien sent a beam after the urn. Golden hands appeared and tried to wrestle it away from him. David leaned against Maishi, a snarl of concentration twisting his face.

    They didn¡¯t have time to play around. The dragon¡¯s power was rising fast.

    Maishi must have sensed it as well. She yanked on David¡¯s arm, trying to get him to leave. The idiot wouldn¡¯t budge.

    Damien sent a blast of energy that smashed David¡¯s construct to bits. The urn flew towards Damien and joined the other two in his bubble. Damien flew east while the other two sorcerers flew west an instant before the Leviathan rose from the ocean and claimed the final ship.

    With its work done the dragon dove deep and swam away like nothing had happened. Debris littered the surface of the ocean. David and Maishi floated above the water, staring at him. Rather David stared at him, hate burning in his eyes. Maishi was looking at her sister. Salem was sitting up in his bubble, but she still looked pretty woozy.

    Damien turned her bubble into a platform. ¡°Can you fly on your own?¡±

    Salem tried to stand, wobbled and settled back down. ¡°Not yet. Maishi.¡± She held out a hand to her sister.

    Maishi started toward Salem, but David grabbed her arm and dragged her back. ¡°Forget her. We need to reclaim the urns.¡±

    ¡°But my sister¡ª¡±

    ¡°I said forget her! She¡¯s too weak to be of any use. Let the boy waste his power protecting her. It¡¯ll make our attacks that much more successful.¡±

    The two sorcerers didn¡¯t concern Damien. Their fight with the dragon had taken a lot out of them. If they were stupid enough to attack he¡¯d kill them both. He really hoped they didn¡¯t. The last thing Damien wanted was to kill Salem¡¯s sister in front of her.

    ¡°We should go,¡± Maishi said. ¡°I don¡¯t have much power left and neither do you.¡±

    ¡°If we go to my master without the urns he¡¯ll kill us.¡± David¡¯s power gathered as he prepared to attack.

    Damien struck first with a raw blast of power that obliterated David¡¯s shield and sent him tumbling through the sky. Steam rose from his body when he finally got himself under control. His face twisted into an ugly snarl.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go. I¡¯ll see you again, boy.¡± David flew east toward the kingdom. With a final look at her sister, Maishi followed.

    ¡°Maishi!¡± Salem shouted after her fleeing sister, her voice empty and forlorn.

 3.42

    When it became clear to Damien that David wasn¡¯t coming back he turned his attention to the debris floating below. A few survivors drifted amid the ruins of the flotilla. He needed to fish those people out of the water and get them somewhere dry. On the platform beside him Salem sniffled and rubbed her eyes.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Damien asked.

    Salem made one last swipe at her eyes before she looked his way. ¡°She abandoned me. My own sister, after everything we¡¯ve been through. How could she?¡±

    Damien had no idea how to answer that. He couldn¡¯t imagine Jen ever abandoning him or if she did how he¡¯d feel about it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. If you want to go after them I understand.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d let me go?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not my prisoner. I can¡¯t let you have the urns though. They¡¯re way too dangerous to have loose in the kingdom. I need to get the survivors out of the water. If you¡¯re going now¡¯s the time.¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not strong enough to make the flight and anyway I have no idea where they¡¯re headed. I¡¯ll stay with you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. I suspect you¡¯ll see your sister again and if you stick with me maybe you can convince her not to do something that will make me have to kill her.¡±

    Salem flinched. Damien sighed. He really needed to take Lane up on her offer of diplomacy lessons. Well, sometimes the truth wasn¡¯t very diplomatic.

    Damien flew down to the water. Sailors shouted and waved at him. He plucked them out one by one, transferring them to the platform he¡¯d conjured for Salem. He picked up eleven men, some of them in rough shape. One had an arm bent at the wrong angle, another had a two-foot stake of wood driven through his calf.

    Nothing else moved, but near the edge of the debris field he sensed a weak soul force. Damien flew over and found Captain Velco clinging to the remains of his ballista. One of his arms was missing just below the shoulder. Something, probably the dragon¡¯s soul force, had cauterized the wound so he hadn¡¯t bled to death.

    Had the Leviathan left Velco alive on purpose? The captain¡¯s remaining arm was tangled up with the ballista cable. That was the only thing that had kept him from going to the bottom when he passed out.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Damien scooped up the unconscious man and flew him to the platform. The sailors sat around staring into space. A couple muttered to themselves, trying to make sense of what had happened. Salem had recovered enough that she was healing some of the worst injuries.

    One man sat huddled off by himself, watching the girl through narrow eyes. He grasped his forearm and from between the gaps in his fingers Damien saw something black. When Damien made a move to get a closer look Captain Velco coughed, groaned, and sat up.

    ¡°Welcome back to the land of the living,¡± Damien said.

    Velco looked around the little platform. ¡°Is this all that survived?¡±

    ¡°Your other sorcerers fled to their true master. You were a pawn in something much larger, Captain.¡±

    Velco groaned again and lay back, his remaining arm over his eyes. ¡°Any more good news?¡±

    Before Damien had a chance to answer, the sailor he¡¯d been watching lunged for Salem and put a knife to her throat.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to give me them urns and fly us back to Port Valcane. Otherwise I¡¯m going to cut this bitch¡¯s head off.¡±

    On the sailor¡¯s arm was a tattoo of a raven. How did a member of the Unkindness sneak aboard the whalers¡¯ ship?

    Damien surrounded the sailor¡¯s knife blade with an invisible sheath of soul force. He wouldn¡¯t be able to cut butter with that weapon now.

    Salem locked gazes with Damien and gathered her power. He gave a slight shake of his head, hoping he could draw some more information out of the thug.

    ¡°I can¡¯t give you the urns. Let her go and you might live through this.¡±

    The false sailor pulled Salem closer to his body. ¡°I know your type. You won¡¯t let anything happen to this girl. The master will reward me for recovering her property.¡±

    ¡°Her? You mean the sorcerer?¡±

    ¡°Aye, she¡¯s waiting for us back in port. When I give her the urns she¡¯ll take me to her master and he¡¯ll give me real power. Now hand them over.¡±

    Damien nodded.

    Salem lashed out with spears of power. They pierced her captor through the chest and stomach. He staggered back and dropped his knife.

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you for that.¡± He spat blood onto the tattoo on his forearm. It burst into black flames that swirled around him, healing the holes in his body. The dark fire gathered around his hands.

    Damien opened a hole in the platform under the thug¡¯s feet. He fell a hundred feet to the ocean below. The man thrashed his way to the surface, the water boiling around him. He shouted curses and screamed incoherent threats as he fought to stay above the water.

    ¡°You¡¯re just going to leave him to drown?¡± Salem asked.

    ¡°His power will burn out in ten or fifteen minutes. When it does he¡¯s dead. He chose to die the moment he activated that tattoo. That¡¯s what corrupt power does to people, it kills them or turns them into monsters.¡± Damien shook his head and flew away, the platform trailing behind.

 3.43

    Port Valcane appeared on the horizon, much to Damien¡¯s relief. The flight back had taken a day, a night, and part of another day. Even his enormous soul force was reaching its limit. When he had everyone back to solid ground he planned to sleep for a week.

    Salem flew beside him, testing her strength, trying to discover if the urns had done any permanent damage. So far she seemed fine. Her dark hair blew around her face, and every once in a while he caught a glimpse of a faint smile. Damien was mostly relieved she¡¯d stopped crying.

    ¡°You¡¯re getting tired,¡± Salem said.

    ¡°I passed tired some time last night. Right now I¡¯m somewhere between exhausted and unconscious. You did good work getting the sailors all stabilized. You have a knack for healing.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve always preferred healing to fighting. Maishi¡¯s the fierce one.¡± She sniffed, but didn¡¯t start crying. Salem looked toward the horizon. ¡°Someone¡¯s coming. Someone strong.¡±

    ¡°My master.¡± He¡¯d sensed the archmage approaching minutes ago, but was curious about how sharp Salem¡¯s senses were. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll vouch for you.¡±

    ¡°Why? We¡¯re practically strangers. You owe me nothing, yet you¡¯ve been kind and thoughtful, treating me like a friend rather than an enemy.¡±

    ¡°The truth is you¡¯re a sweet girl and I think David tricked you and your sister into helping him. Maishi seems besotted with him and I don¡¯t know if I can keep her from doing something stupid if he asks her to. My hope is that if you¡¯re with me when they do whatever they¡¯re planning to do, you can convince her to surrender. Maishi hasn¡¯t actually broken any kingdom laws yet. If you can make her stop you both have a future here if you want it.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°We¡¯re sorcerers. We have no place anywhere. We¡¯ll be feared and shunned wherever we go.¡±

    Damien laughed. ¡°Who fed you that nonsense? There are two hundred or so sorcerers in the kingdom, most of them loved and respected by their friends, family, and society in general. Only criminals are shunned.¡±

    ¡°But David said¡ª¡±

    ¡°David said? Why would you believe anything that man had to say? He told you what he needed you to believe so you¡¯d do what he wanted. I¡¯m telling you the truth. You¡¯d be a great addition to the kingdom¡¯s sorcerers. With your gift for healing you¡¯d be welcome anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± She sounded so desperate to believe him. Someone had her totally convinced she was a monster with no place in society.

    Damien made a little X over his heart. ¡°I swear.¡±

    The archmage¡¯s eagle swooped into formation beside them. Her gaze racked the miserable survivors then came back to him. ¡°Damien. Do I need to ask how it went?¡±

    ¡°It went as we expected. I brought you a present.¡± He concentrated and the bubble surrounding the urns flew over to her.

    His master assumed control of the sphere. ¡°What have we here?¡±

    ¡°Their secret weapon. The Leviathan wasn¡¯t impressed. The urns seem to drain the wielder¡¯s soul force at the same time they drain the target¡¯s. I¡¯ve never seen anything like them. Salem can tell you more.¡±

    The archmage turned her cool gaze on Salem who flinched. ¡°I look forward to that conversation. Where are the other two?¡±

    ¡°Best guess? I¡¯d say they slunk back to Connor. They¡¯ll be back. David was desperate to reclaim the urns. I hope you have a place to keep them. Somewhere deep, dark, and secure. I don¡¯t know what Connor wants them for, but it can¡¯t be good.¡±

    ¡°I was planning to just destroy them,¡± his master said. ¡°We acquired several other dark artifacts that need purifying. Three more won¡¯t make much difference.¡±

    Damien chewed his lip. ¡°Master, the way these things soak up soul force, I have my doubts you can destroy them. It would be like trying to douse a fire by throwing oil on it.¡±

    The archmage glared at the urns, trying to unmake them by sheer willpower. If anyone could, she could, but Damien feared it wouldn¡¯t be that easy.

 3.44

    John sprawled on the couch in the royal quarters and watched the princess pace. The king and queen had gone out for a ride leaving the pair of them alone. If she didn¡¯t calm down she was going to wear a hole in an expensive rug.

    He¡¯d been in the capital for over a month now and all he¡¯d accomplished was healing the occasional overzealous guard injured in training. Most of his time seemed to be spent listening to Karrie plot how to get Damien to marry her. She¡¯d considered dozens of plans, each more farfetched than the last. John was so thoroughly sick of it he was tempted to ask for a transfer back to his old post where he could do something useful. At least holed up in the royal apartment he hadn¡¯t run into anyone looking for favors.

    Finally she stopped and rounded on him in a swirl of blue skirts. ¡°You¡¯re his best friend. Don¡¯t you have any ideas how I can convince him that loving a sword is stupid?¡±

    John scrubbed his hand over his face. How many times was he going to have to explain this? ¡°It¡¯s not the sword, it¡¯s the spirit bound to the sword. And I can guarantee you the one thing that would make Damien never speak to you again is telling him loving Lizzy is stupid. You know, instead of trying to trick, seduce, or otherwise force him to like you, you might try doing something nice for him without expecting anything in return.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    She frowned as though the idea had never crossed her mind. Knowing Karrie it probably hadn¡¯t. ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Damien¡¯s name day was a couple days ago. You could throw him a late party after he finishes his mission. Get Jen and Fredric to come. Fix a nice dinner, maybe a cake. Hell, I don¡¯t know. If nothing else we¡¯ll have a good meal.¡±

    The princess started pacing again. ¡°A name day party. That might work. It¡¯ll show him I care. That I can do things for him that some stupid sword can¡¯t. John, it¡¯s brilliant. But how will I know when to plan for?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t help you there. It¡¯s not like a mission has an end day. You should probably ask Jen and Fredric to come now, that way whenever Damien gets back you could have the party the next day.¡±

    Karrie smiled and kissed him on the cheek. ¡°This might be just the thing to convince him to consider me. Things are finally looking up.¡±

 3.45

    Connor sat on his black chair, Mikhail at his shoulder, and stared at David and whoever the girl was that he¡¯d brought with him. He must have misheard. Connor fingered the amulet around his neck. Over the years it had become a sort of worry stone for him. Whenever he needed to calm down he touched it. ¡°Let me see if I understand. You lost the urns after failing to claim the dragon¡¯s soul force then fled rather than fight a whelp of a boy to reclaim them. Did I miss anything?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± David¡¯s voice trembled. ¡°Connor, please give us another chance to recover the urns. We were both badly depleted after the fight with the Leviathan and that boy has one of the strongest soul forces I¡¯ve ever sensed.¡±

    Connor leaned forward, prompting the two sorcerers to step back. ¡°Stronger than me?¡±

    David hesitated, probably debating whether to lie to him or not. ¡°Stronger than you were before you became a warlock, yes.¡±

    Connor tapped his chin. If the boy was as strong as David claimed getting the urns back wouldn¡¯t be a simple task. Nevertheless it needed to be done. ¡°Do you know where the urns are now?¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°I assume they¡¯ve arrived in Valcane by now. Beyond that I have no idea.¡±

    ¡°Sir, my sister. She¡¯s with the boy.¡±

    Connor waved a hand and a gag of black flame appeared over her mouth. ¡°The archmage can¡¯t keep them in the city for long. There¡¯s no safe place there to store demonic artifacts. She¡¯ll have to transport them either to the capital or The Tower. My gold is on The Tower, but we can¡¯t risk missing them. Mikhail, you will watch the road to The Tower. David, you and your girlfriend can watch the road to the capital. Whichever of you finds the artifacts contact the others and attack together. I want those urns back.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Connor. I won¡¯t fail again.¡± David grabbed the girl and hustled her out of the library.

    Connor shook his head. Competent help was so hard to find.

    ¡°Let me attack the city, Master. I¡¯ll kill anyone that stands in my way and bring the artifacts back.¡±

    Connor sighed and patted his servant on his armored wrist. ¡°I appreciate the offer, Mikhail, but I have allies in Valcane and we¡¯ve done quite enough damage to their city for the time being. Not to mention even you couldn¡¯t handle a dozen sorcerers at once.¡±

    ¡°As you say, Master. I¡¯ll need a new mount.¡±

    ¡°Have David transport you to a farm and take what you need. Just make certain you¡¯re not seen.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Master.¡±

    ¡°And Mikhail, don¡¯t fail me again.¡±

 3.46

    The explosion woke Damien from a deep sleep. He groaned and rolled over on his cot. Admiral McAllen had been kind enough to offer Damien a bunk for the duration of his stay. A faint glimmer of sunlight filtered through the barrack¡¯s windows.

    She was getting an early start again today. For the past two days his master had spent from sunup to sundown on a small island half a mile out in the bay with Master Shen and Sasha blasting those urns with everything they could muster.

    Damien had offered to help yesterday. His soul force had fully recovered though his thoughts still swirled after going almost two days without sleep. The archmage had ordered him to rest. He¡¯d shrugged and complied. If she wanted to blow off some steam blasting a pile of rocks and bird shit into gravel it was none of his business.

    Unfortunately blowing off steam was all she was accomplishing. Those urns shrugged off everything the three sorcerers threw at them. When they¡¯d returned last night, stooped over, soul force drained to almost nothing, Damien had caught a glimpse of the targets of their wrath. The black enamel hadn¡¯t suffered so much as a scratch. He didn¡¯t think blasting them would work, but one look at his master¡¯s flat expression had convinced him of the wisdom of silence.

    Damien dressed, picked up a sausage and biscuit sandwich at the mess hall, and headed outside. The brisk ocean breeze finished the job of waking him. He sighed. When they finally returned to the capital he¡¯d miss the ocean breeze the most. Movement up on the fort wall caught his eye.

    Salem was staring out over the ocean, her hair blowing. Poor girl. Not only had her sister abandoned her, she¡¯d had to spend two hours alone with the archmage getting questioned. She hadn¡¯t complained, not that it would have done any good. When the interview was over his master was satisfied that Salem didn¡¯t pose a threat to the kingdom. As far as Damien knew she hadn¡¯t spoken to Salem since.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Damien flew up on the wall and landed beside her. ¡°Morning. Did you have breakfast yet?¡±

    She looked at him sideways through a veil of hair. ¡°I wasn¡¯t hungry.¡±

    An explosion lit up the sky out by the island. Damien tore his sandwich in half. ¡°Here. You should know I don¡¯t share with just anyone.¡±

    Salem smiled, accepted the biscuit, and took a bite. Another explosion echoed across the water. Further down on the docks a small crowd had gathered to watch the show.

    ¡°She¡¯s certainly determined,¡± Salem said.

    ¡°I think stubborn is the word you¡¯re looking for. I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s in the job description.¡±

    She laughed softly, her heart not really in it. ¡°You like her, your master?¡±

    Damien swallowed the last of his sandwich and nodded. ¡°She can be hard when necessary, but she has a kindness about her as well. I think we¡¯re well matched. I hope she feels the same. At the very least she hasn¡¯t complained about my efforts so far.¡±

    ¡°Our master wasn¡¯t a kind man. He pushed us hard and punished the smallest failure. Maishi took the brunt of it, protecting me the best she could. I miss her so much.¡±

    Damien put his arm around her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    At noon the explosions stopped and the weary sorcerers flew back to the fort. Master Shen¡¯s face was drawn and pale. Even his master and the high sorcerer looked done in. Damien met them in the courtyard with a pitcher of wine and glasses. Beside him Salem carried a platter of fried dumplings she swore were favorites in her village. She¡¯d offered the first real smile since her sister flew off with David while they were cooking together.

    Damien poured everyone a drink and Salem passed out the snacks. When everyone had drunk and eaten the archmage said, ¡°We¡¯re done. I can¡¯t think of anything else to hit those thrice-damned urns with and the island¡¯s smashed down to the waterline.¡±

    ¡°Where will we take them?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°One¡¯s going to The Tower, one to the vault under the castle, and the third I¡¯m going to sink to the bottom of the ocean.¡±

    ¡°I can fly that one out while you guys are resting if you want,¡± Damien said.

    ¡°Apprentice, you read my mind. We¡¯ll head out with the other two at first light.¡±

 3.47

    The sorcerers gathered once again in the yard surrounding the navy fort. The two remaining urns sat on the ground between them. Damien had sunk the third one twenty-five miles off the coast in about eight hundred feet of water. For good measure he¡¯d buried it ten feet under the sea bed. If anyone was going to find that item they¡¯d have to work for it.

    ¡°Sasha and Lon, you two will take an urn to The Tower. I¡¯ve already told Thomas to expect you. He has the key to the vault. Damien and I will take the second urn to the royal castle. Send a message to my office there when the artifact is secure. Questions?¡± When no one spoke up the archmage clapped her hands. ¡°Good luck.¡±

    Lon formed a bubble around their urn, conjured a griffin, and took off. Sasha flew a little ahead of him on a blue dragon. Gaudy, but if they ran into trouble she could send it against any foe in an instant.

    His master formed a bubble around their own urn. ¡°Ready?¡±

    Salem came running out of the fort waving her hands. ¡°Wait for me.¡±

    She skidded to a stop beside them. ¡°I want to help.¡±

    Damien glanced at his master who nodded. ¡°Great, we¡¯d appreciate it.¡±

    The three of them flew east and a little north. The archmage rode her eagle while Damien stayed in the lead on his own and Salem brought up the rear on a carpet of soul force. If they didn¡¯t push it they¡¯d make the capital an hour before sunset. That was a long time to be exposed, but since no one knew they were coming Damien wasn¡¯t too worried.

    Noon came and went with no sign of problems. Below them The Great Green spread out for miles in every direction. The nearest civilization lay fifty miles north. At times like this Damien was reminded of just how big the kingdom was and how few people really lived here. There was so much emptiness.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Salem said.

    Damien and his master pulled up short.

    ¡°What is it?¡± the archmage asked.

    ¡°My sister, she¡¯s close. I¡¯ve always been sensitive to her soul force.¡±

    Damien tapped his core and power crackled around his hands, ready to be shaped. ¡°Is she alone?¡±

    Salem shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t tell.¡±

    A golden speck rose out of the forest below and flew towards them. It moved closer and he recognized Maishi. There was no sign of David, but he had to be around here somewhere.

    Salem flew over to her sister, tears in her eyes. They embraced and Salem said, ¡°Are you okay? I¡¯ve been so worried.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Maishi glared at Damien and the archmage. ¡°You¡¯re the one that¡¯s been a prisoner of the enemy.¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Oh, no, everyone¡¯s been nice. They¡¯re nothing like David said. People here aren¡¯t afraid of sorcerers like they are back home. We can have a normal life, with friends and everything.¡±

    ¡°They tricked you, Salem.¡± Maishi grabbed her sister by the shoulders and shook her. ¡°We only have one friend in the kingdom and that¡¯s David.¡±

    Damien sensed him and lashed out with a blast of soul force. David¡¯s invisibility screen crumbled and he tumbled through the sky away from the urn.

    ¡°Damn you, boy!¡± David screamed when he¡¯d stabilized his flight.

    David hurled twin blasts of soul force. They had no real power behind them and Damien slapped them aside.

    ¡°Tell us where Connor is and we can protect you,¡± the archmage said.

    ¡°Ha! Connor has people everywhere. You can¡¯t protect me, you can barely protect yourselves. Maishi!¡±

    A squeak from behind him drew Damien¡¯s attention. Maishi had her arm around Salem¡¯s throat. Salem fought, but Damien recognized at once that Maishi was the stronger sister.

    ¡°Give us the urn. Don¡¯t make me hurt my sister.¡±

    ¡°Maishi, please¡ª¡± Salem¡¯s plea was cut off by a squeeze from her sister.

    ¡°We¡¯re not giving you the urn.¡± Damien shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Salem.¡±

    A golden lance shattered Maishi¡¯s shield and pierced her skull. Her power vanished and she tumbled to the ground, her wailing sister on her heels.

    Damien turned on David, his power blazing. ¡°When I¡¯m finished with you, you¡¯re going to wish Connor had killed you.¡±

    ¡°Take him alive.¡±

    Damien looked at his master in disbelief. ¡°Alive?¡±

    ¡°We need to find Connor and he¡¯s the only one that can tell us where to look.¡±

    Damien ground his teeth. ¡°Yes, Master.¡±

    David had flown a good half a mile north when Damien turned back. A beam of golden energy struck the fleeing sorcerer in the back and transformed into chains. Damien bound his prisoner from head to toe before reeling him in like a fat fish.

    David fought with everything he had, but his power was nothing compared to Damien¡¯s.

    When he finally floated, bound and drained, in front of Damien his head hung and he gasped for air. ¡°Just kill me now. It¡¯ll be a kindness compared to what Connor or worse, his black knight, is going to do to me.¡±

    ¡°Much as I¡¯d like to oblige, that pleasure¡¯s been denied me.¡± Damien punched him in the side of the head. No power protected his fist or enhanced his muscles. There was nothing but the simple satisfaction of knuckles on skin.

    ¡°I have to check on her, Master.¡±

    The archmage nodded. ¡°Quickly. We need to keep moving.¡±

    Damien flew down and found Salem kneeling in a bed of pine needles beside her sister¡¯s body. He crouched next to her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I feared she might hurt you.¡±

    Salem sniffed and looked at him through red-rimmed eyes. ¡°You were right. I felt the malice in her. Maishi would have killed me to get that urn. My own sister would have killed me. If I¡¯d been stronger I could have fought her off. You wouldn¡¯t have had to¡­¡± A sob cut Salem off mid-sentence and she wrapped her arms around him.

    Damien rubbed her back and let her cry for a little while. He couldn¡¯t take too long. His master was right about that.

    After a minute he said, ¡°We can¡¯t stay here. Do you want to take her body to the city or bury it here?¡±

    Salem wiped her eyes and looked around. ¡°This is a pretty spot. I think Maishi would have liked it here.¡±

    Damien conjured a rectangle of soul force and drove it into the ground. When it rose a perfect grave had been gouged out of the earth. Salem created a litter of soul force and slid her sister¡¯s body into the grave. Damien covered it and found a three-foot boulder jutting out of the ground. A little brute-force shaping carved it into a headstone which he sunk into the ground at the head of the grave.

    Salem knelt beside it and carved her sister¡¯s name and the short epitaph: Beloved Sister. She put her hand on the stone for a second and stood up. ¡°I¡¯m ready. Thank you for this. My sister was your enemy and I know you didn¡¯t have to show her even this much kindness.¡±

    As they flew up to rejoin his master Damien said, ¡°I didn¡¯t do it for your sister. I did it for you. Friends look after each other.¡±

 3.48

    Lon followed Sasha due east toward The Tower. He¡¯d heard rumors about the vault, everyone had. A place where the high sorcerers kept dark artifacts too powerful to be destroyed alongside equally dangerous divine items that might be of use one day. He¡¯d assumed the rumors were just that, Tower gossip spread from one year to the next. Nervous as he was to be transporting the urn Lon was looking forward to seeing the vault.

    Lon flew through the clear blue sky, his every sense alert for potential trouble. He found it two hours out from port. A familiar, corrupt darkness he never wanted to experience again. Ahead of them a black speck floated in the sky.

    ¡°Run for The Tower!¡± Sasha raced to engage the darkness.

    Lon swung out wide of the combat zone as fast as he could manage. Once he escaped, Sasha could disengage and flee. He¡¯d seen the black knight¡¯s power before and held no illusions about their combined ability to defeat him.

    A stream of black flames brought Lon up short. He tried to dive under them, but the fire shifted to block him. So much for running. It appeared he¡¯d have to fight after all. Lon spun his griffin toward Mikhail and raced to back up Sasha.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.The blue dragon lunged toward Mikhail, jaws wide enough to swallow him and his mount whole. A single swing of the black sword followed by a burst of hellfire blasted Sasha¡¯s construct to glittering shards. Lon clenched his jaw. She¡¯d put a lot of her power into that dragon and Mikhail had destroyed it in seconds.

    Sasha sent a dozen beams of golden soul force hammering into Mikhail. Some he deflected with his sword and others he let bounce off his armor. None of the blasts so much as made him flinch.

    One of Mikhail¡¯s arms had been replaced by a black-scaled demon limb ending in rending talons. Sasha attacked again and Lon added his own power to the effort with explosive orbs that detonated against Mikhail¡¯s armored back with no more effect than Sasha¡¯s beams.

    Mikhail was a nightmare and Lon had no idea how to end him.

    The black knight swept his sword through the air and a wave of hellfire hammered Sasha back. The attack left her body red and smoking. It looked like it was all she could do to stay in the air.

    They couldn¡¯t stop Mikhail and they couldn¡¯t flee. Lon saw only one option that didn¡¯t end with him and Sasha dead. The archmage wasn¡¯t going to be happy.

    Lon brought the urn up where Mikhail could see it. ¡°Is this what you¡¯re looking for?¡±

    ¡°Give it to me and I¡¯ll kill you quick.¡±

    ¡°Catch!¡± Lon hurled the urn away with so much force it looked like a comet.

    ¡°No!¡± Mikhail raced after the urn, his enemies temporarily forgotten.

    Heaven¡¯s mercy, that was close. Lon gathered up Sasha and flew toward The Tower at full speed. When the black knight caught up to the urn Lon wanted to have a thick stone wall between them.

 3.49

    Damien and the others landed in the castle courtyard with two hours to spare before dark. Two patrolling Crimson Legionnaires had joined them as they descended. Damien didn¡¯t know the two men, but they looked more like warriors than most sorcerers he¡¯d met. They led David off to the dungeon where he¡¯d be kept under constant observation by at least two sorcerers.

    The archmage let her eagle vanish and strode towards the castle. Damien and Salem fell in behind her, but she waved them off. ¡°I can take care of this. Why don¡¯t you get our guest settled in and rest up? Once David breaks we¡¯ll be moving against Connor. It¡¯ll take a few days to gather our forces. Until then you¡¯re free.¡±

    Damien couldn¡¯t have been more pleased. He was so tired, both mentally and physically, it took all his concentration to put two thoughts together. His master left them standing in the courtyard.

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t trust me,¡± Salem said.

    ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation I don¡¯t know where the vault is either. Give her time. She¡¯ll warm up to you. In the meantime let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t find you a room.¡± Damien¡¯s stomach grumbled. ¡°And something to eat as well.¡±

    They found the kitchen in full roar. Servants ran around with trays heaped with food. A dozen chickens roasted on spits by the oven. His favorite honey rolls were cooling on a rack. Damien spotted the head cook and waved.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    She scowled, her white hat cockeyed and flour over half her face. ¡°No! Dinner will be served in an hour. I haven¡¯t time to fix you anything.¡±

    If she was going back on their deal there was nothing to keep Damien from snitching a couple rolls. He concentrated and a pair of rolls flew across the kitchen and into his waiting hands.

    ¡°How many times have I told you to leave my rolls alone?¡± The cook waved a wooden spoon at him.

    Damien waved back and led Salem toward the guest quarters. He handed her a steaming roll and bit into his. He sighed as sweet, yeasty, buttery perfection melted in his mouth. Of all the things he¡¯d missed, honey rolls were near the top of the list.

    ¡°These are wonderful,¡± Salem said. ¡°I¡¯ve never tasted anything like them. I don¡¯t think that woman was very happy with you stealing them.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an old game and we¡¯ve been playing it for years. I¡¯m not certain where we¡¯ll find Dale, the castle seneschal, but you can rest in my room until we track him down. There¡¯s always several empty rooms in case of unexpected visitors.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to put anyone to any trouble.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble. Handling things like this is Dale¡¯s job. My friend John¡¯s around here somewhere. He¡¯s a gift for healing as well. I bet you two would hit it off.¡± They reached the door to Damien¡¯s room and he pushed it open. He conjured light globes, filling the room with golden radiance. Everything looked just the same as he left it. ¡°Be it ever so humble.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡± Damien waved her over to the room¡¯s lone chair and sat on the edge of the bed. ¡°Hopefully, in time, you¡¯ll come to think of the kingdom as home.¡±

 3.50

    Karrie and John sat at the dining room table in the royal apartment putting the finishing touches on their plan for Damien¡¯s party. Her parents had loved the idea and so had Jen when she received Karrie¡¯s message. Even Fredric had agreed to come. John had flown them over from The Citadel just that morning. Everything was pretty much set, they just had to decide on the menu.

    A knock sounded on the door. John opened it and a servant was waiting outside. She bobbed a curtsy. ¡°He¡¯s back, Princess.¡±

    All the servants knew she was anxious to hear when Damien returned so Karrie didn¡¯t need to ask who. She beamed a smile at the girl. ¡°Thank you so much. Where is he?¡±

    ¡°I passed him headed to his room. Princess¡ª¡±

    ¡°I should go say hello.¡± Karrie brushed past the servant, walking toward Damien¡¯s room as fast as decorum allowed.

    John was still talking with the servant, probably flirting. The man couldn¡¯t seem to help himself. Not that any of the ladies minded. They all giggled and smiled whenever he paid them the least attention.

    John caught up to her halfway to Damien¡¯s room. ¡°Maybe we shouldn¡¯t bother him right now. He¡¯s probably tired after his mission.¡±

    Karrie waved him off. ¡°I won¡¯t stay long. I just want to poke my head in.¡±

    John shook his head and fell in beside her. It took only a minute to reach Damien¡¯s door. Karrie straightened her dress and hair then knocked. The door opened a moment later revealing an exhausted-looking Damien. He mustered a weak smile. ¡°Princess, John.¡±

    Karrie wasn¡¯t listening. Her gaze was focused on the pretty brunette sitting in the chair beside Damien¡¯s bed. Apparently he wasn¡¯t too tired to bring a girl back to his quarters. Why was it every time he returned from a mission he was being overly friendly with a different beautiful girl? First Lane and now this¡­person.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to introduce us?¡± Karrie said.

    ¡°I was. You weren¡¯t listening. This is Salem. She was a sorcerer on the ships from the Old Empire. Salem, this is Princess Karrie and my best friend, John Kord.¡±

    Salem offered a hesitant smile. ¡°Hello. Damien has been very kind to me since the dragon sank our ships. Perhaps we could talk about healing sometime.¡±

    Beside her John brightened. ¡°You studied healing as well? I¡¯d love to hear about the Old Empire¡¯s techniques.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know that I could show you anything you don¡¯t already know, but it would be nice to chat.¡±

    ¡°How about right now?¡± Karrie grabbed Damien¡¯s wrist and dragged him out of the room. ¡°We need to catch up anyway.¡±

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.¡°Good idea.¡± John eyed the girl like a hungry shark.

    Damien dug in his heels and Karrie couldn¡¯t budge him. ¡°Go easy, John. It¡¯s been a long few days.¡±

    His voice held an edge Karrie hadn¡¯t heard before. John must have noticed it too. His expression softened. ¡°Kid gloves, Damien, no worries.¡±

    Damien nodded and turned his gaze to Salem. ¡°I won¡¯t be long.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be fine. Take your time.¡±

    Damien let Karrie pull him down the hall. He was awfully protective of the girl. Was she yet more competition? Karrie wanted to scream. Damien collected pretty girls like a garbage bin collected flies. How come she was the only one he didn¡¯t show any interest in?

    When they moved out of earshot Damien pulled away from her. ¡°What was that about?¡±

    ¡°I find you alone in your room with a strange girl and you ask me what it¡¯s about?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see that it¡¯s any of your business who I bring to my room. You act like you own me. Let me make this clear: you don¡¯t.¡±

    Karrie couldn¡¯t have been more stunned if he¡¯d slapped her. Damien turned to leave. She grabbed his arm and spun him around. ¡°What about your precious Lizzy? Will you cheat on her with anyone as long as it isn¡¯t me?¡±

    His expression darkened. Karrie didn¡¯t care. She was sick of being ignored. ¡°John told me about her. How you loved her so much I didn¡¯t have any hope of winning you over. Looks like you don¡¯t love her so much after all.¡±

    ¡°You stuck up, arrogant brat. Salem¡¯s in a strange place, surrounded by strange people. Four hours ago I had to stop her sister from killing her by blasting a hole in the deluded woman¡¯s head. I dug a grave for her in a pine grove in the middle of The Great Green. I¡¯m the only friend she has in the kingdom. What did you want me to do, leave her in the entry hall with a note around her neck asking Dale to find her a room?¡±

    Karrie didn¡¯t know if she¡¯d ever seen Damien so angry. After hearing everything that had happened over the last few days she didn¡¯t blame him. She¡¯d seen him alone with a girl and spoke without thinking. It was getting to be a bad habit where he was concerned.

    Damien yanked his arm free and stalked back toward his room. Karrie ran after him.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Damien, please, I¡¯m sorry. I overreacted, jumped to conclusions. I didn¡¯t mean it.¡±

    He stopped and spun to face her. ¡°That¡¯s the problem. You did mean it. You meant every word. It¡¯s like you imagine if you say or do something I¡¯ll fall head over heels for you. I¡¯ll forget about everything and everyone else I care about and focus all my attention on you. Well, I won¡¯t. Even if I liked you the way you want me to I wouldn¡¯t suddenly abandon everyone else.¡±

    Did she really think that way? When it came to Damien, Karrie guessed she did. She obsessed over him every minute despite the fact that he only liked her as a friend, and at this point she wasn¡¯t entirely certain he even liked her that way. She had to do something to change his mind.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to meet her. Lizzy, I mean.¡±

    Damien just looked at her. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Please, I want to see what it is that makes you care about her so much. Your father is visiting Daddy and I put him in the room next to yours. Maybe you could borrow the sword and introduce me.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?¡±

    Desperate times and all that. ¡°Yes. I know I¡¯ve done some things that annoyed you. Well, more than annoyed you. I thought maybe if I understood what you like a little better it would improve our relationship.¡±

    Damien sighed. ¡°All right. If she¡¯s in the room next door that¡¯s close enough for a psychic projection. If you really want to meet her come to my room after Dad and Uncle Andy finish telling war stories. I should have Salem settled in her own room by then.¡±

    Karrie almost danced in place. He¡¯d invited her to his room. Just the two of them, more or less. Finally she¡¯d have a chance to convince him, show him how much she loved him. Even better if she could convince the spirit that she¡¯d be a better partner for Damien. If she won Lizzy over they could convince Damien to do the right thing.

    ¡°Daddy¡¯s not much of a night owl. Around nine sound good?¡±

    Damien nodded and left her smiling in the hall.

 3.51

    Damien lay on his soft mattress and stared at the ceiling. Tired as he was he found he couldn¡¯t sleep. To say Karrie¡¯s request to meet Lizzy had surprised him would be an understatement. He hoped the princess didn¡¯t do something stupid, like demand Lizzy give him up so he could marry her. He didn¡¯t think Lizzy would hurt her, but in the psychic world Lizzy was queen. He¡¯d try his best to keep the peace.

    At least he¡¯d gotten Salem settled in. Dale had found her a room four doors down from Damien so if she had any troubles or questions he was only a short walk away. After dinner she¡¯d pleaded exhaustion and turned in for the night.

    A creak sounded outside and a moment later Damien was floating in the night sky with Lizzy. They wasted no words, but rushed together and shared a kiss. When they came up for air Lizzy had covered herself in black silks. Damien just looked at her, reveling in the fact that they were together again. Heaven¡¯s mercy, it had been too long.

    ¡°Far too long,¡± Lizzy said, reading his mind as was her habit. ¡°I wish there was something to be done about that.¡±

    ¡°You and me both. I have a favor to ask.¡±

    ¡°Anything, you know that.¡±

    ¡°Karrie wants to meet you. She¡¯s gotten it in her head that she loves me and she¡¯s hoping you can teach her how to get me to love her back. At least that¡¯s the impression I got. Maybe she just wants to check out the competition. I¡¯ve tried telling her every way I can think of that there¡¯s no competition. I love you and no one else. I¡¯m hoping if we both tell her maybe she¡¯ll listen.¡±

    Lizzy tapped her chin with a black lacquered talon. ¡°I haven¡¯t brought a woman here in many years. I don¡¯t suppose it could hurt. The last royal I spoke to was back in the Old Empire about five hundred years ago. It should be interesting to see what a modern princess is like. When will she be here?¡±

    ¡°We said nine, but I have no idea what time it is.¡±

    ¡°Another ten minutes. We could play for a while.¡± Her silks vanished, her wings lashed, and she flew through the endless night. Damien followed right behind.

    Lizzy stopped in mid-flight only minutes later, a little frown creasing her features. ¡°She¡¯s early.¡±

    Damien sighed and found himself back in his physical body. Probably just as well Karrie arrived when she did. If Lizzy had let him catch her Damien would have lost all interest in dealing with the princess. He heaved himself out of bed just as her knock sounded.

    Damien opened the door and found Karrie standing there, her fist raised for another blow. She¡¯d changed out of her frilly dress and into a thin, loose-fitting top and billowy pants. ¡°Pajamas?¡±

    ¡°What? This is sort of like a sleepover, right?¡±

    Damien massaged the bridge of his nose and stepped aside to let her in. She brushed past him and sat on the bed, feet tucked up under her legs. ¡°Do your parents know you¡¯re here?¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    She nodded. ¡°They both think us being a couple is a good idea. Anything that advances that cause is okay with them.¡±

    Damien did her the courtesy of not checking to see whether she¡¯d lied. It wasn¡¯t worth the argument. ¡°I doubt this will take long, but you might as well get comfortable.¡±

    She slid across the bed and lay on her side facing him, smiling. ¡°Just think, you could end every day like this if you played your cards right.¡±

    He lay on his back beside her, arms crossed. ¡°Ready?¡±

    She put an arm across his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. ¡°Ready.¡±

    Damien closed his eyes and opened them in Lizzy¡¯s world. She floated five feet away from Damien and Karrie, wings flared wide open and naked as was her preference. Beside him Karrie gaped. He knew how she felt, Lizzy still filled him with awe. The princess was so stunned she hadn¡¯t even noticed they were standing in midair.

    Damien found himself shifted fifteen feet away from Karrie. The princess squeaked in surprise then fell silent as Lizzy flew closer and circled her. When she¡¯d finished her survey Lizzy turned to Damien. ¡°Not bad looking for a mortal. Does she not tempt you?¡±

    Damien grinned. ¡°I¡¯m seventeen. All women tempt me, but I only love one.¡±

    Lizzy smiled his favorite smile, the one that made him want to get rid of Karrie right that second. Lizzy turned her attention back to the princess. ¡°And you? You claim to love my sweet Damien.¡±

    Karrie brought her chin up, every inch the proud princess. ¡°I do love him. I¡¯ve loved him since we were little. I can do things for him you can¡¯t. I can take care of him when he¡¯s sick, give him a family. I think we¡¯d be a good match.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. I can¡¯t disagree with the family part of your argument though if he were sick I could heal him with my power. I¡¯ve told him often enough that he can¡¯t stay with me in this world. It¡¯s not good for mortals long term.¡±

    ¡°Would you give us your blessing?¡± Karrie sounded hopeful.

    Damien tried to understand what Lizzy was doing. He thought the plan was to tell Karrie to forget about him not get her hopes up.

    Lizzy flew over behind him and wrapped her wings around him. ¡°Unfortunately I¡¯m not willing to give him up.¡±

    Damien slumped with relief.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to. I¡¯m not greedy. We can share him.¡±

    Now it was Damien¡¯s turn to stare. What was she thinking?

    Lizzy laughed and flew back to Karrie. She got so close their faces were only inches apart. ¡°Hmmm. Now that¡¯s something I haven¡¯t done in centuries.¡± She traced the princess¡¯s cheek with a long fingernail. ¡°It might be fun. I suspect Damien would enjoy it.¡±

    Karrie hurried to put some distance between her and Lizzy. ¡°No, no, not what I meant. You can have Damien here whenever you want, I won¡¯t complain. After all, you only see him when Fredric¡¯s here or Damien visits The Citadel. In the real world he agrees to marry me, saving me from having to deal with a bunch of greedy noble boys that are only interested in getting at the throne.¡±

    Lizzy tapped her finger against her chin. ¡°That¡¯s not a terrible idea. I¡¯m not the jealous type and it might be good for Damien to have a flesh-and-blood woman in his life.¡±

    Damien had heard enough. ¡°Is anyone interested in what I think?¡±

    ¡°We both know what you think.¡± Lizzy turned her attention to Karrie. ¡°Excuse us a moment, dear.¡±

    Karrie vanished, leaving Damien and Lizzy alone. Lizzy flew over and touched his cheek. ¡°She makes a good point. The princess is terrified she¡¯ll end up married to someone that will take advantage of her. I don¡¯t know if she actually loves you or if she just trusts you to treat her kindly and with respect. Her thoughts on the matter are all jumbled up.¡±

    ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°The same thing I always want you to do, whatever will make you happy. You have this adorable notion that I¡¯ll be offended if you enjoy any of the many women in your life. What I told the princess is the truth. I don¡¯t get jealous. I¡¯ve lived for millennia, done things you couldn¡¯t even begin to imagine, many of them so horrific if I told you it would sicken you. I can¡¯t and won¡¯t judge your choices. There¡¯s nothing you could do that would shock me or make me stop loving you. Live your life to the fullest. It¡¯s so terribly short.¡±

 3.52

    Karrie blinked and sat up. She was a little stiff though they hadn¡¯t been very long. Having met Lizzy, Karrie now understood what interested Damien about the demon sprit. The whole experience had seemed so real. And when she¡¯d stroked Karrie¡¯s cheek. She shivered. Down that path lay nothing good.

    Damien sat up beside her. When he looked at her she saw something new in his eyes, sadness maybe. What brought that on?

    ¡°So what did you think of her?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Stunning is the first word that comes to mind. It¡¯s like someone took every feminine quality, combined them, and amplified them by ten. I suspect if you surveyed every man in the kingdom and turned the results into a person she¡¯d look like Lizzy.¡±

    ¡°I suspect you¡¯re right. You should have seen the look on your face when she touched your cheek. That alone made the visit worthwhile.¡±

    Karrie touched her cheek. ¡°It felt real.¡±

    ¡°It was real. Out here everything you experience is filtered through your five senses to your brain. In her world the senses are bypassed and your mind is stimulated directly. In a lot of ways it¡¯s a more intense experience. Sometimes when I return after a visit, the real world feels sort of flat and washed out. I think that¡¯s why she doesn¡¯t want me to spend too much time with her.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°I meant what I said, about sharing you. I doubt you¡¯ll get a better offer.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t an auction, and I¡¯m not for sale.¡± Damien sighed and swung his legs off the bed. ¡°Are you really that scared of marrying one of the nobles¡¯ sons?¡±

    ¡°Scared? Who said I was scared?¡± Her denial didn¡¯t even sound believable in her own ears.

    ¡°Lizzy. She can read the minds of anyone in her psychic range and if you enter her world your thoughts are an open book. She said you may have mixed up loving me with fearing them.¡±

    Karrie hopped off the bed and stalked around the little room. She spun to face Damien. ¡°My feelings for you are real. I won¡¯t deny being with you would solve my other problems, but that¡¯s a bonus. There are a lot of things I¡¯d like from you, but one thing I won¡¯t accept is your pity.¡±

    He smiled a sort of sad half-smile. ¡°Fair enough. Do you want me to walk you to your room?¡±

    Damien rolled off the bed and they walked to the door of his room. He opened it and she turned toward him. ¡°Think about what I said. We¡¯d be good together, I know it. I think Lizzy agrees with me. Daddy wants you to come to dinner tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡±

    She pressed her finger to his lips. ¡°Don¡¯t say anything now. Think about it. We¡¯ll talk again after dinner.¡±

 3.53

    When Mikhail entered the library carrying one of the urns Connor allowed himself a brief smile. At last something had gone right. It was a pleasant surprise to see Mikhail succeed for a change. Perhaps the fault for his earlier failures lay more on Connor for believing he could trust the unhinged young man with a complex task. On simple, brute-force jobs, Mikhail served as an outstanding sledgehammer to bludgeon Connor¡¯s enemies.

    His armor creaked as he took a knee in front of the black chair and held up the urn. ¡°Success, Master.¡±

    Connor accepted the urn and patted Mikhail on his armored shoulder. The power in the artifact made his fingers tingle. This was the first time he¡¯d seen an urn of binding in person. Its power didn¡¯t disappoint.

    ¡°Well done, Mikhail. This success goes a long way toward making up for your earlier mistakes. You had no trouble?¡±

    ¡°None, Master. The two weaklings protecting it were hardly worth my time.¡±

    ¡°You killed them then?¡±

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!The helmed head looked away. ¡°No, Master. They hurled the urn in one direction then fled in the other. I allowed the cowards to escape rather than lose the prize.¡±

    Surprised and pleased, Connor let his smile grow. ¡°You¡¯re finally showing a bit of good judgment. Killing two sorcerers is meaningless compared to claiming this artifact. What about the other two?¡±

    Mikhail rose to his feet. ¡°I received no message from the others. Perhaps the remaining urns slipped through their fingers.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. My spies will let me know eventually.¡±

    Eventually came sooner than Connor expected. A black crystal bird flew into the library, a message clutched in its beak. It appeared his spy in the capital had news. That didn¡¯t bode well. He unrolled the tiny scroll and read the brief message. David was a prisoner and scheduled to undergo questioning within the hour. The urn was locked in the royal vault. Both were under heavy guard. His spy couldn¡¯t get access to either and escape.

    Connor snarled and a burst of hellfire incinerated the message. So much for his good mood. David knew far too much to be allowed to talk and the second urn, at least, must be recovered. Two out of three would be sufficient if not ideal.

    ¡°Master?¡±

    Connor shook his head. ¡°Problems, Mikhail, always problems.¡±

    Connor gestured and a green crystal bird flew off one of his shelves and landed on the arm of his chair. A second motion brought two scrolls, a quill and ink. He jotted two short notes, gave one to each bird, and sent them on their way. He hated to burn his best spies, but the situation demanded it.

    He just had to hope Eleck did his part.

 3.54

    Damien paced in his room. Dinner would be served in the royal apartment soon, but he couldn¡¯t get the previous night¡¯s conversation with Karrie out of his head. He¡¯d talked about it some more with Lizzy after the princess left, but she¡¯d only say that whatever he decided was fine with her. He really wanted her to have a stronger opinion on the matter. He saw Lizzy¡¯s point of view, though. Whatever they felt for each other, Damien¡¯s life was just a moment in her eternal existence.

    He barely restrained himself from punching the wall. What should he do? Part of him wanted to help Karrie out of her predicament. Another part couldn¡¯t imagine being married with kids, living in the castle, ruling the kingdom together. It was too much, too big to wrap his head around.

    Another problem was David. Damien had spoken to his master that morning and the sorcerer still hadn¡¯t broken. Damien hadn¡¯t thought he had that much willpower. Connor must really terrify him. The questioners were still working and would continue to do so until he broke. According to the archmage it was always when, not if.

    Screw it. Thinking wasn¡¯t getting Damien anywhere.

    After dinner he¡¯d just follow his instincts. His guess was they¡¯d lead him away from Karrie, but who knew for certain. He left his room and made the short walk to the royal apartment. Nothing like an expertly cooked meal to take your mind off your problems. He knocked on the closed door.

    ¡°Come in,¡± Uncle Andy said.

    Damien pushed the door open.

    ¡°Surprise!¡± Jen, Dad, Uncle Andy, Queen Audra, John and Karrie yelled together.

    Damien grinned. ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡±

    ¡°A late name day party.¡± Jen hugged him. ¡°We haven¡¯t had a real party for you in four years. I think you earned this one.¡±

    ¡°He certainly did.¡± Uncle Andy came over and shook his hand. ¡°You¡¯ve done more for the kingdom in a year than some people do in a lifetime. And I¡¯m not just saying that because you saved my life.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Damien said.

    John was next in line. They bumped fists. ¡°Karrie planned everything. She was very determined.¡±

    Damien glanced at the princess and raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°It was John¡¯s idea and he helped with the details. Were you surprised?¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Yeah. Any more surprised and I might have blasted everyone.¡± She stared and he grinned. ¡°I¡¯m just kidding. I would have sensed if there was any real threat.¡±

    She slapped his shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s not funny.¡±

    The queen came over, kissed his cheek, and whispered, ¡°Did you and my daughter come to an understanding last night? It would be nice to make an announcement at her name day celebration next month.¡±

    So the queen was in on this as well. He couldn¡¯t say that surprised him. ¡°Nothing definite.¡±

    She frowned a little. ¡°Decide quickly. The sooner the matter is settled the better for continuity purposes.¡±

    Queen Audra smiled and passed him off to the last person in line, his father. They shook hands. ¡°I¡¯m glad you came. All quiet back home?¡±

    ¡°As quiet as it¡¯s possible for a fortress full of young warlords to be. I¡¯ve read the reports on your missions. You¡¯ve down well, son.¡±

    Fredric pursed his lips and looked away. Damien had never seen his father so uncertain. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m proud of you and I love you. I probably should have told you that long before now.¡±

    Damien¡¯s lip trembled. He hugged his father for the first time in seven years. ¡°I love you too, Dad.¡±

    When they parted everyone was watching. Damien cleared his throat. ¡°Isn¡¯t there supposed to be food and perhaps gifts?¡±

    That brought a round of awkward laughter. ¡°Dinner won¡¯t be ready for a little while,¡± Karrie said. ¡°So let¡¯s do gifts. Me first.¡±

    Karrie handed him a small box and Damien said a silent prayer that it didn¡¯t contain a ring. Inside was a gold coin, an old one, marked with a scepter on one side and a sword on the other.

    ¡°It¡¯s an Old Empire coin, to commemorate your adventure on the whalers¡¯ ship,¡± Karrie said.

    Damien smiled and pocketed it. ¡°It¡¯s great, thanks.¡±

    Next came a flask from John filled with a healing potion he brewed himself. Uncle Andy and Queen Audra gave him a gold ring with the royal seal engraved on it. The moment he touched it Damien felt remnants of soul force stir in the depths of the metal. Someone had soul forged the ring.

    ¡°Amazing, isn¡¯t it? The third ruler of the kingdom was a sorcerer. He left a bit of his power in that ring so no one could counterfeit it. Anyone who sees it will know you speak with my full authority. I can¡¯t think of anyone, except your father, that I would rather trust as my agent.¡±

    Damien¡¯s mind reeled. With that ring Damien could command nobles, generals, even his master. Well, maybe not his master, but still it was a grave responsibility and one he didn¡¯t take lightly. He¡¯d have to weigh everything he said lest someone think he spoke in the king¡¯s name. In fact it might be best to cover it with a glove except when absolutely necessary. One thing was certain, he¡¯d never take it off. If someone got ahold of it they could cause a lot of trouble.

    ¡°I¡¯m honored by your trust. I won¡¯t let you down.¡±

    Uncle Andy clapped him on the back. ¡°I know you won¡¯t. If I had any doubts I wouldn¡¯t have given it to you.¡±

    Dad came next with a harness of exquisitely tooled back leather. It had two loops, one for his sword and one for his dagger. ¡°I know you¡¯re a sorcerer, but sometimes steel is still best. It¡¯s always better to have a blade than not.¡±

    Damien smiled. That was such a typical Dad thing to say. ¡°It¡¯s perfect, thanks Dad.¡±

    Last came Jen. She approached with empty hands and a sheepish look. ¡°I couldn¡¯t think of anything as great as the sword you made me and anything less seemed like an insult. I thought about it so long I ran out of time and now I don¡¯t have anything for you.¡±

    Damien hugged her. ¡°I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re here. Best. Present. Ever.¡±

 3.55

    Karrie certainly went all in on the menu. They were all scrunched in around a dining room table designed for four people and laden with roast beef, vegetables, gravy, and his favorite honey rolls. A cake sat on the kitchen counter waiting for later. Damien piled his plate high and ate with enthusiasm. He sat between Jen and Karrie. If the table was just a little smaller the princess would have ended up on his lap. As it was the three of them were constantly banging elbows.

    Damien hadn¡¯t been this happy in a long time. Surrounded by the people he loved, no one trying to kill him, and a plate full of his favorite foods. What could possibly be better? Maybe if Lizzy could leave the sword for an hour and join them.

    That¡¯s sweet, but a demon at the dinner table might be a little awkward.

    Damien hid a smile at Lizzy¡¯s comment. Sometimes he forgot she was a demon. He thought of her more as an angel that dyed her wings.

    A little tremor rattled the silverware. It seemed like they were getting more frequent. Damien¡¯s wine glass shook and the tremor intensified. The table rattled and Karrie grabbed his arm.

    Soon the whole room trembled and the glowing stone lamp above the table threatened to vibrate loose. A horrible rumble, like the cry of a giant beast, filled the air as the shaking continued to grow worse. When a crack ran up the wall Damien had had enough.

    A golden bubble surrounded the group. Beams of energy shot out, stabilizing furniture and keeping the cake from crashing. The rumbling seemed to go on for far longer than it had any right to.

    Five minutes later the last tremor subsided and Damien let the bubble vanish. ¡°Everyone okay?¡±

    Everyone was. Damien checked the strength of the walls and found the cracks shallow and the overall structure still sound. He fused the damaged stone back together and sealed the cracks.

    ¡°That was the worst one yet,¡± Uncle Andy said.

    Damien hopped up from the table. ¡°I need to check on Salem and the archmage.¡±

    ¡°Good idea.¡± Uncle Andy stood up as well. ¡°There may be injured. John, go with Jen and Fredric, make sure everyone¡¯s okay. We¡¯ll head to the throne room. Damage reports will be coming in and we¡¯ll need to organize help for people living in less well built houses. I¡¯m sorry, my boy. It seems your party is going to be cut short.¡±

    ¡°No problem, but I was looking forward to that cake.¡±

    Damien left the others to their tasks and rushed down the hall to check on Salem. He stepped over paintings and repaired minor cracks as he went. It was a good thing they¡¯d built the castle to last. It might have been much worse. He rounded a corner to the guest wing. Someone whimpered nearby. Sitting under a small table, clutching his legs to his chest, was one of the castle¡¯s errand boys.

    Damien crouched down and looked the boy in the eye. ¡°It¡¯s over now. You can come out.¡±

    The boy shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t wanna. Everything¡¯s falling and cracking. I¡¯ll get smushed.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t. It¡¯s safe now. We¡¯re starting to clean up and we¡¯ll need your help. Can¡¯t you be brave and come out of there?¡±

    ¡°You sure it¡¯s safe?¡±

    Damien nodded. He was as sure as he could be. ¡°I¡¯m sure. Come on.¡±

    The boy took his hand and crawled out from under the table. ¡°What should I do?¡±

    ¡°You could gather up all the paintings that fell and line them up against the wall. Someone will be along in a little bit to give you something more important to do. Okay?¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The boy nodded. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Damien ruffled his hair. ¡°Run along.¡±

    He left the boy to his work and jogged on toward the guest rooms. As he ran Damien sent out streams of soul force to check the walls and floors for damage. He found several fissures that required repair, but all in all the castle had come through with little damage.

    When he reached Salem¡¯s door he knocked. ¡°Salem? Are you okay?¡±

    The door opened a second later. Salem burst out and hugged him. ¡°I was so scared. Does that happen often?¡±

    Damien rubbed her back. ¡°We¡¯ve been having small tremors off and on for a while, but nothing like this. As far as I know the capital has never experienced a quake this bad.¡±

    ¡°What should I do?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to check on the archmage. You¡¯re welcome to come along. If anyone¡¯s hurt it¡¯d be handy to have someone with me who can heal.¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you handle the healing?¡± Salem asked as they quick-marched down the steps and along the back halls to his master¡¯s office.

    ¡°No, my soul force is too dense. I¡¯m only good for causing wounds, not healing them.¡±

    Groaning servants and staggering guards leaned against walls or in some cases sat in the middle of the hall. No one looked hurt, just shaken up. They kept moving, weaving their way through the occasional knot of people. Whenever anyone asked, Damien sent them to the throne room. Uncle Andy would have a better idea of what needed to be done.

    They rounded a corner that led to the archmage¡¯s office just in time to see her leaving. Damien waved. ¡°Master!¡±

    She stopped and turned his way. ¡°The royals?¡±

    ¡°Everybody¡¯s fine. They¡¯re in the throne room organizing the cleanup. Dad and Jen are nearby.¡±

    ¡°Good. I sent four Legionnaires as well. If someone wanted to attack this would be a perfect time. I¡¯m headed to the dungeon to check on the prisoner. Come on.¡±

    Damien and Salem fell in behind the archmage who stalked through the halls with such a grim expression that cleaning servants and disoriented guards alike scrambled to clear a path. She almost seemed to take the quake personally, like nature had decided to annoy her on purpose. As if nature would dare.

    The door leading down to the dungeon was open and hung slightly askew. The quake must have shifted the frame a fraction.

    ¡°Smells wet,¡± Salem said.

    Damien sniffed. The air did have a damp smell to it, damper than usual that is. He hoped the cistern hadn¡¯t cracked, that would be a pain to fix.

    At the bottom of the stairs no lake waited for them to wade through, which came as a relief. All the cell doors appeared to be locked tight. There were three big puddles, but nothing major. If the archmage noted any of this she gave no sign.

    They rounded a bend to the interrogation room and found Alden and Imogen lying unconscious on the ground outside. Inside the room David slumped facedown on the table, blood from a slashed throat dripping to the floor.

    Soul force still flowed in the unconscious sorcerers. They were both still alive, thank heaven.

    His master slammed her fist on the table. ¡°Damn it! He was our best lead.¡±

    Two cups lay on the floor beside the unconscious sorcerers, their contents spilled on the stones. A quick scan revealed poison. He couldn¡¯t tell exactly what kind, but it must have been what knocked them out. ¡°Salem, can you revive them?¡±

    ¡°I can try.¡± A glow spread from her hands to Alden.

    Damien left her to work and joined the archmage beside David¡¯s body. ¡°Poison, Master.¡±

    She held up a dart. ¡°Here too. Probably shot David from the intersection and while it was working the assassin brought our thirsty questioners some nice, cool wine.¡±

    ¡°It must have been a servant.¡±

    ¡°Or someone posing as a servant. How much do you want to bet our mystery person let the Soul Knife assassin sneak in as well.¡±

    ¡°No bet. A spy in our midst would certainly explain a lot.¡±

    ¡°Yes. It seems David was right to be worried.¡±

    A groan came from out in the hall. They turned in time to see Alden sit up and rub his head. Salem had begun healing Imogen.

    ¡°What happened?¡± the archmage asked.

    ¡°Damned if I know. One minute I¡¯m sipping a lovely red wine and the next I¡¯m waking up with the worst headache I¡¯ve had in years.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky to be waking up at all.¡± Damien turned to his master. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t the spy kill Alden and Imogen as well? A lethal poison would have done the trick even if they had a shield up.¡±

    ¡°Most deadly poisons take longer to act. Our spy was in a hurry. The question is, why?¡±

    Damien¡¯s stomach churned. ¡°Master, how secure is the urn?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no.¡±

    ¡°Salem, are you good?¡± Damien asked.

    She nodded, not looking up from Imogen.

    ¡°Alden, find the guards,¡± the archmage said. ¡°We haven¡¯t seen a patrol since we got here. They may be in trouble. Damien and I will check the vault.¡±

    Alden waved. ¡°Will do.¡±

    The royal vault was off the throne room behind a thick iron door. A guard stood behind the locked door at all times. When they arrived the door hung open and the guard lay in a pool of blood. That would be the dead fellow at their feet. Damien and his master shared a look. Heavy, iron-bound chests filled the room, each holding several thousand gold royals. Smaller chests held jewelry and gems. None of them appeared tampered with.

    The archmage walked over to an empty shelf and ran her finger over it. She turned back to Damien. ¡°We¡¯re too late. The urn is gone.¡±

 4.1

    Damien flew over the dark city, a sliver of moon gleaming in the sky overhead. Outside the castle the damage from the earthquake looked more extensive. Many glow stone lamps had fallen and shattered, leaving the capital darker than normal. Scores of small fires, no doubt caused by smashed oil lanterns and collapsed chimneys, offset some of the lost light. Thick black smoke choked the air, forcing Damien to conjure fans to blow it away or suffocate.

    Hundreds of windows had busted, littering the streets with glass. He flew over a partially collapsed inn, where a group of people were digging frantically to reach survivors under the rubble. It was the third badly damaged building he¡¯d seen in less than a minute. Survivors filled the streets, running around, shouting for loved ones.

    A piercing wail rent the air when someone found an injured victim or worse, a body. How in the world would they ever hunt down one thief in all this? It would take months to repair all the damage. At least they¡¯d lucked out and winter had passed before the quake struck. Three months earlier and the people would be in even worse straits. Every time Damien had to fly on without helping pained him, but he had his mission and he¡¯d see it through.

    Uncle Andy had ordered the gates sealed as soon as the archmage alerted him to the theft. Everyone hoped the order had gone out soon enough to prevent the spy from escaping with the urn. Their chances of catching, or at least preventing the escape of whoever took it were pretty good, unless the spy was a warlord or sorcerer, then forget it. The hunters needed to hurry. The gates could only remain sealed for so long before the city grew restless.

    The archmage had ordered Damien to patrol the perimeter of the city and detain anyone in the vicinity on the off chance the thief had gotten through the gates. He flew over the wall and sent dozens of lights drifting toward the ground. All the trees and brush had been cleared from around the wall for a mile in every direction. No one could hide in that open ground. It only took Damien ten minutes to circle the city. He saw nothing and sensed no soul force. The thief was either long gone or still inside.

    Damien turned to fly back to the castle when he sensed a hint of corrupt soul force. Something demonic lurked out there and it was growing closer by the second. Perhaps Connor had sent his spy reinforcements. Even if Damien couldn¡¯t find the urn he could at least deal with whatever was slinking around out there before it caused any harm.

    Speeding northeast Damien flew towards the energy.

    He reached the tree line just as a cloaked and hooded figure burst from between a pair of evergreens. Whoever it was, they looked like a normal human. A few seconds later four huge wolves crashed through the undergrowth. Their eyes glowed red, and flames leaked from their mouths like saliva. The monsters charged.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out whoever was down there had run out of time. Those demon-possessed wolves would catch their prey in moments. Damien couldn¡¯t allow that.

    Golden lances rained down, piercing the wolves and pinning them to the ground like bugs in a collection. Despite being stabbed multiple times the beasts still thrashed and howled, spitting flames toward the sky. The stranger had stopped and stood bent over, panting.

    Damien drew deep from his core and burned the wolves to ash, leaving nothing behind that might cause trouble later. The immediate threat hopefully dealt with, Damien surrounded the stranger with a ring of lights. He landed a safe distance away and tried to look nonthreatening.

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s blessing on you, sir.¡± The woman threw back her hood revealing a plain, kind face surrounded by thick brown hair. Brown eyes twinkled in his lights. ¡°I¡¯ve been fleeing from those beasts for a day and a half. I feared they had finally caught me.¡±

    ¡°I guess it wasn¡¯t your day. Damien St. Cloud.¡± He held out his hand. If she replied with, ¡°oh, the demon slayer,¡± he was going to scream.

    She smiled and shook his hand. ¡°Leah Walks-in-Sunshine. I owe you my life and yet I fear I must ask you for yet another favor.¡±

    ¡°Ask, but I can make no promises.¡±

    ¡°I need to speak with the king. I and my people need help. If you wish the quakes to end you must help me.¡±

    Damien frowned. ¡°Is that a threat? If it is, you have a funny idea about how to ask for help.¡±

    ¡°Apologies. That didn¡¯t come out the way I intended and I certainly don¡¯t mean you or anyone else any harm.¡± She looked all around, anywhere but his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not used to dealing with people.¡±

    They were getting nowhere slow and he needed to return to the castle. ¡°Take a deep breath and tell me what¡¯s going on.¡±

    ¡°Yes. One day when I was out on a nature walk I happened across a member of our order sneaking through the woods. I would ordinarily never intrude on another¡¯s journey, but he was acting so furtive that it aroused my curiosity. The wise one, the leader of our order, says I have far too much of it for my own good. His path led to a cave and inside, at the end of many twisting tunnels, was a ritual circle. I only caught a glimpse of it, but I saw enough of the runes to recognize their purpose. Someone is attempting to shift the local ley lines to create a convergence. The pressure on the flow is what caused the quakes. If they aren¡¯t stopped I fear what will become of the land.¡±

    Damien just stared for a second. He¡¯d only understood about a quarter of what she just said¡ªif you included her name. The only thing he understood for sure was that one or more people had caused the tremor that damaged the capital.

    ¡°You definitely need to talk to the king and my master. This matter is entirely beyond my understanding. Have you ever flown?¡±

 4.2

    Twenty-seven men and women dressed in black and silver servants¡¯ uniforms stood in a neat row in the throne room. Some trembled, some were soaked with sweat, and all of them stank of fear and looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. In another row, hands clasped behind their backs, wearing blue and silver tabards over mail hauberks, waited thirty guards. They ran the gamut from youths straight out of training to a grizzled sergeant that walked with a limp and had a patchy salt-and-pepper beard.

    Jen hadn¡¯t realized how many servants there were in the castle. Some she recognized, like the cook, with her flour-smudged face. No one that made such fantastic food could possibly be a spy. In fact, Jen doubted anyone here was a spy. Whoever stole the artifact was probably miles away by now.

    The archmage had agreed when she¡¯d told them about the theft, but she insisted whoever did it might have an accomplice. Everyone would be questioned until she knew the spy had acted alone. At the end of the line Dale Allen fidgeted in his blue robe, his staff of office held loosely in his wrinkled hands. Jen felt bad for the old man. When the archmage had ordered everyone assembled Dale had taken it as a personal failure that one of his people had betrayed the kingdom. Beside him the captain of the guard held himself absolutely rigid, his hand clenching the hilt of his sword so tight she worried the wood might shatter.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°Who¡¯s missing?¡± Uncle Andy asked.

    Dale chewed his lip. ¡°Merik Arcorn, he was in charge of the ovens and keeping us supplied with wood. Holly Linn, one of the chambermaids. Carmen Warren, she was in charge of sewing and linens.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m missing an entire unit of dungeon guards,¡± the captain said. ¡°Also Tom Right, who was killed in the vault and Jonathan Linn, one of the regular throne room door guards.¡±

    The archmage spun to face him. ¡°Did you say Linn?¡±

    The captain nodded. ¡°Holly¡¯s his little sister.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm.¡±

    Jen knew how the archmage felt. What were the odds a brother and sister would vanish at the same time as the urn. It also made sense that two people had teamed up to commit the theft. It was a big job for just one person.

    A rap sounded on the door and a moment later a Crimson Legionnaire poked his head into the throne room. ¡°We¡¯re ready to begin questioning, Archmage.¡±

    She nodded and servants and guards began filing out. It wouldn¡¯t take fifteen sorcerers long to sort out if any of them were involved. The full twenty would have done it faster, but three members were stationed with the queen and princess in the royal apartment and two more were searching the grounds for the thieves, just in case they hadn¡¯t managed to escape the castle grounds.

    When the door slammed shut Uncle Andy said, ¡°You think it¡¯s the brother and sister?¡±

    The archmage shook her head. ¡°I refuse to go into this assuming anything. We¡¯ve made too many assumptions that ended badly. Until I know for certain one way or the other, in my eyes they¡¯re all guilty.¡±

    Jen winced. Talk about harsh.

 4.3

    Alden sent streams of soul force in all directions, probing the stone steps outside the castle for any sign of either the thief or the urn. Glowing spheres of light brightened the area, but revealed nothing. You¡¯d have thought someone rushing out would have left some sign, a drop of blood, a torn piece of cloth, something.

    So far his efforts had been in vain. Beside him Imogen scanned the heavy doors, seemingly with equal results. They¡¯d checked every inch of the castle before moving outside. If they had to search the whole city this way it would take the entire Crimson Legion a year. Somehow Alden doubted they had a year.

    ¡°Why is it we can¡¯t remember what the spy looked like?¡± Alden asked.

    Imogen cut off her flow of soul force. She turned to face him, her beautiful face twisted in a fierce scowl. ¡°The healer said it¡¯s because of the poison. It knocked us out and erased our short term memory. A useful tool for a spy.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but a pain for us. There has to be a way to speed this up.¡±

    ¡°If we had some idea where to look. But since we don¡¯t we¡¯ll have to look everywhere.¡±

    Something clanked and the doors opened. The archmage stepped out, her expression hard and grim. ¡°Anything?¡±

    Alden shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ve checked the whole castle inside and out. Whoever it is must be out in the city.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Imogen said.

    ¡°Well that makes three of us. Before we start a random hunt through the city I have a list of names and addresses for you.¡± She handed Alden a rolled-up scroll. ¡°Three servants and a guard remain unaccounted for. No one seems certain if they showed up at the castle today or if they left early. Whatever happened they¡¯re our best leads. Maybe we¡¯ll get lucky and they¡¯ll be hiding at home.¡±

    Alden pursed his lips. ¡°If they¡¯re hiding the urn at home I¡¯ll dance naked around the city.¡±

    ¡°We have nothing else to go on. If you have a better suggestion I¡¯m listening.¡± The archmage stared so hard at him Alden flinched.

    ¡°No, ma¡¯am. We¡¯ll get right on this.¡±

    ¡°Good. Start with the brother and sister.¡± The archmage slammed the door leaving them alone again.

    ¡°Did you really try and joke with her under these circumstances?¡± Imogen asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ll grant you my timing could have been better.¡± He unrolled the scroll. It seemed the Linn family lived in a flat above a dry goods store. That was probably handy. ¡°Do you know where Hammer Street is?¡±

    ¡°The trade district.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s thirty square blocks. I was hoping for something a little more precise.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just fly there and ask the first person we see.¡± Imogen leapt into the air.

    Alden followed, shaking his head. He hated asking for directions.

    They landed at the edge of the trade district. Through the whole flight Alden didn¡¯t think he¡¯d seen more than a handful of undamaged buildings. Everywhere he looked people were picking through rubble, whether searching for people or things he couldn¡¯t say.

    Imogen marched over to a stout, gray-haired woman in a smock and apron sweeping glass out of the street. Whatever else you might say about their crimson tunics, they drew people¡¯s attention the moment they saw them.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.¡°Where¡¯s Hammer Street?¡± Imogen asked.

    The woman looked up and squinted at them. She pointed toward the city wall. ¡°Three blocks that way, two right, next left. Look for the sign, you can¡¯t miss it.¡±

    Imogen stalked off without another word. Alden waved at the woman. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    It was such a short distance they didn¡¯t bother flying. At the appointed corner they found a four-foot-tall wooden sign carved to look like a hammer. Alden grinned. Talk about obvious.

    ¡°What was the name of the store?¡± Imogen asked.

    Alden dug the scroll out of his tunic and conjured a small light. ¡°Smitty¡¯s Dry Goods. I doubt they¡¯re open.¡±

    Imogen looked at him with her hard, blue eyes. ¡°They¡¯ll open for us.¡±

    Alden followed her down the street, his gaze darting from side to side. The area consisted mostly of businesses, which explained the lack of people. The shopkeepers and workers were probably home picking up. Once the sun rose he figured the place would be packed with people trying to figure out how much the quake had cost them.

    Imogen stopped, hands on her hips, staring at a half-collapsed two-story building. A broken sign lay on the ground near the door. It said ¡°Smitty¡¯s Dry Goods.¡± Three-quarters of the roof slumped down into the second floor. Alden had serious doubts anyone was hiding up there.

    They flew up and looked down into the ruined apartment. Alden sensed a faint soul force. Imogen looked at him and he nodded. They landed on a heap of mangled rafters and shingles. The soul force emanated from the undamaged portion of the second floor. Unfortunately half the collapsed roof lay between them and whoever was on the other side.

    ¡°Hey! Are you okay?¡± Alden shouted.

    Imogen smacked his shoulder. ¡°What are you doing? It could be the spy.¡±

    ¡°The spy was in the castle when the tremors started. If that¡¯s who it is how did they get over there?¡±

    ¡°Hello?¡± A faint, feminine voice came from beyond the rubble.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but you still shouldn¡¯t have shouted.¡±

    ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s argue some more after we dig her out.¡±

    The two sorcerers made short work of the pile of rubble. Hiding under a table on the opposite side was a terrified young woman who stared at Alden and Imogen like they were angels descended from heaven.

    ¡°Thank you. I was afraid I¡¯d never get out of there.¡±

    ¡°All part of our job, miss,¡± Alden said.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Imogen asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m Holly Linn. I¡¯d offer you a cup of tea, but¡­¡± She looked around at the ruins of her apartment and shrugged.

    ¡°Why weren¡¯t you at your job today?¡± Imogen asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been sick and Jonny insisted I stay home and rest today. He said they could get along without me for a day. Am I in trouble?¡±

    ¡°Not at all, miss.¡± Alden smiled and patted her hand. ¡°We¡¯re just checking on any absent servants to make sure they weren¡¯t hurt in the quake. You don¡¯t know where your brother is by any chance?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°He went to the castle this morning the same as he does every day. I assumed he was there. Is he okay?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not certain. As you can imagine things are a little crazy right now. We¡¯ll find him, never fear.¡± Behind him Imogen snorted.

    Holly hugged Alden. ¡°Thank you so much, sir. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do if something happened to Jonny.¡±

    Alden wiggled free of the girl and asked, ¡°Do you have somewhere you can go? It isn¡¯t safe for you to remain here.¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°This place was all we had. Mom and Dad died four years ago and now it¡¯s just Jonny and me.¡±

    ¡°Would you like to go to the castle? We can find a place for you to rest away from everyone so you won¡¯t make them sick.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir, I¡¯d like that. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll fall through the floor if I stay here.¡±

    Alden looked around and was forced to agree with her. He conjured a wagon about Holly and the three of them took off. They hadn¡¯t flown far when Holly let out a little squeak. She stared out over the devastated city, her hand at her mouth.

    ¡°Holly, did your brother have any friends that might know where we can find him?¡± Alden asked.

    ¡°Jonny had a few friends in the guards, but he spent most of his time with Carmen. He thought he was being sneaky, but I saw them together all the time. Usually kissing.¡± Holly¡¯s face turned bright red when she said that last bit.

    ¡°Would that be Carmen Warren?¡± Alden asked.

    Holly nodded. ¡°Do you know her? She¡¯s very pretty. Sometimes she even talks to the queen.¡±

    ¡°How do you know that?¡± Imogen asked, a little sharper than necessary.

    ¡°I heard her tell Jonny. I think Carmen liked to brag. Not that she¡¯s a bad person. Getting to talk to the queen is a real honor after all.¡±

    ¡°It certainly is.¡± Alden caught Imogen¡¯s eye and they shared a nod.

    They landed in the castle courtyard and Alden got Holly settled in before joining the archmage in the throne room.

    ¡°Is the girl being honest with you?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m confident she is,¡± Alden said.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Imogen said. ¡°She¡¯s a bubble-brained kid, but she¡¯s no spy.¡±

    ¡°Good. We¡¯ve also eliminated Merik Arcorn from the list while you were gone.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d you manage that?¡± Alden asked.

    ¡°A search party found him crushed under a pile of logs he was cutting into firewood.¡±

    Alden winced. ¡°That certainly crosses him off our list. Carmen Warren and Jonathan Linn on the other hand I have a bad feeling about.¡±

 4.4

    Damien landed his conjured mount in the castle courtyard and helped Leah down. She¡¯d held his shoulders in a death grip the whole flight and only his shield saved him from having her fingers imbedded in his flesh. He felt her strength through his soul force. Leah had a warrior¡¯s grip. If she¡¯d been running from those wolves for a day and a half she had incredible stamina as well. It was strange that she carried no weapon beyond a six-inch knife at her belt.

    A messenger ran out the open castle doors and toward the gate not sparing them a glance. Damien absorbed the construct and led Leah to the castle. The guards let him through without a fuss, though they gave Leah a second look. The throne room doors were open as well. Four warlords, two on each side, stood at attention. From a distance he spotted Uncle Andy slumped on his throne with Jen on his left and Dad on his right. Whether to keep him safe or from falling off the chair Damien couldn¡¯t say. The king certainly hadn¡¯t had an easy time of it the past year or so.

    His master was talking to Alden and Imogen, her face twisted into a particularly fierce scowl. What news had the two legionnaires brought that put the archmage in such a foul mood? All three sorcerers turned his way when he got close. One of the downsides of having such dense soul force: it made it impossible to sneak up on fellow sorcerers.

    ¡°Damien, who¡¯s this?¡± the archmage asked.

    ¡°Leah, this is my master, the archmage. Master, this is Leah Walks-in-Sunshine. She was being chased by demon-possessed wolves. I had the good fortune to stumble across her just in time.¡±

    Leah bowed. ¡°Your apprentice saved my life. I¡¯m very grateful.¡±

    ¡°Saving people is Damien¡¯s job. Why did you bring her here?¡±

    ¡°Because you and the king really need to hear what she has to say. Hopefully it makes more sense to you than it did to me.¡±

    ¡°All right.¡± The archmage turned back to Alden and Imogen. ¡°You two know what you need to do. Get going.¡±

    The two Crimson Legionnaires bowed and rushed out of the room. Whatever their mission it must have been important. When they¡¯d gone she asked Damien, ¡°Do you want to give me a preview?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s about the earthquake. Apparently it wasn¡¯t a natural event.¡±

    The archmage¡¯s eyebrows leapt at that. ¡°You were right. I do need to hear what she has to say.¡±

    His master led the way up to the throne. Uncle Andy¡¯s head popped up as they approached and he managed a weak smile. ¡°Damien. Everything secure beyond the wall?¡±

    ¡°As far as I could tell, Majesty. I ran into a minor difficulty, but it¡¯s resolved now.¡± Damien gave him a quick summary of his meeting with Leah. ¡°Go ahead, Leah. Tell them everything.¡±

    Leah cleared her throat. ¡°I suppose I should give you a little background. I¡¯m a druid, a follower of the Green Path. We tend the wild places and make certain the earth force remains pure and flows as it should.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Earth force?¡± the archmage asked.

    Leah nodded. ¡°The energy that flows from the core of the planet and sustains all the things growing on it. That power flows in great rivers called ley lines that then branch into ever smaller flows that connect everything.¡±

    ¡°If so much power is flowing right under our feet why can¡¯t we sense it?¡± The archmage asked the question Damien was thinking.

    ¡°The wise one says it¡¯s because you¡¯re too bright. Your power blinds you to what¡¯s all around. It¡¯s like staring into a fire at night. You can see nothing beyond it. Even people without power must spend many months meditating in the sacred groves before they become sensitive enough to see the earth force. It takes years to be able to manipulate it even a little.¡±

    His master seemed ready to ask another question but Uncle Andy coughed. ¡°Perhaps we could get to the point of what, exactly, brought you here.¡±

    ¡°Apologies, Majesty,¡± Leah said. ¡°I¡¯m here because someone or some ones have shifted a ley line. Subtle shifts at first, so that no one would notice. But a few hours ago they gave a great yank on the flow. That¡¯s what caused the quake.¡±

    The king leaned forward. ¡°Are you saying someone caused this catastrophe on purpose?¡±

    She shied away. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s what brought you here?¡±

    ¡°Not the earthquake specifically. I had almost arrived when that happened. The fact that someone was shifting the ley lines is why our leader sent me to ask for your help.¡±

    Uncle Andy shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not certain I understand. Can¡¯t you just put it back where it belongs? What do you need our help for?¡±

    ¡°Druids have shifted the ley line, Majesty. We don¡¯t know which ones. The wise one isn¡¯t certain who he can trust. He determined it would be best to bring in outsiders to investigate. Once we deal with whoever betrayed the Green Path, the rest of the order can put the flows to rights. Please, can you help us?¡±

    The king leaned back on his throne. ¡°Please excuse us for a moment, Leah. We have a great deal to discuss.¡±

    Damien escorted her to a bench at the rear of the throne room. When he turned to leave she grabbed his hand. ¡°Do you think he will help?¡±

    He patted her hand then pulled his free. ¡°The king is a good man. If he can help I believe he will.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Damien smiled and rejoined his master.

    ¡°Did you even know these druids existed?¡± Uncle Andy asked.

    The archmage shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of them or read about them in any of the histories. The girl is telling the truth, at least she believes she is. I swear in less than a year I feel like my whole world has shifted.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about druids,¡± Damien said. ¡°But those demon wolves were real enough and they wanted her dead. I can¡¯t see anyone going to the trouble of siccing them on her if she didn¡¯t know something someone didn¡¯t want getting out.¡±

    ¡°It bears looking into, certainly,¡± Uncle Andy said. ¡°If they can do this much damage to us, what else are they capable of?¡±

    Damien glanced at Jen and raised an eyebrow. She nodded back.

    ¡°Jen and I could investigate. We have some experience with demonic matters.¡±

    ¡°Just the two of you?¡± Uncle Andy said. ¡°I was thinking a bigger force.¡±

    ¡°No, Damien has the right idea,¡± the archmage said. ¡°If a dozen sorcerers descend on them whoever¡¯s responsible will just disappear into the group then pick up where they left off once we leave. If Damien and his sister go in alone they might not even be noticed or at least not recognized as a threat. Also, we need everyone to help with the cleanup and to protect against anyone taking advantage of our current vulnerability.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. Besides, if anyone can handle this, Damien and Jen can.¡± Uncle Andy sat back and sighed, looking far older than his forty-one years.

    His master led Damien and Jen away from the exhausted king. ¡°Be careful. That young woman doesn¡¯t have a clue what¡¯s really happening. Don¡¯t depend too much on her.¡±

    Leah bounced to her feet when Damien and the others reached her. ¡°Has the king decided?¡±

    Damien smiled. ¡°My sister and I will be returning with you to investigate. We¡¯ll set out at first light.¡±

 4.5

    Alden and Imogen flew towards the merchant¡¯s district. Carmen lived there with her parents in a modest two-story house on Scale Street. Alden didn¡¯t expect to find Carmen home, but he hoped her parents might have an idea where she¡¯d go if she was in trouble. Below them the wealthier section of the city hadn¡¯t fared all that much better than the working class districts. Everywhere he looked buildings lay in shambles. No fires burned at least. Alden¡¯s throat still felt raw from the smoke he¡¯d breathed in. One thing about nature, she didn¡¯t care how much gold you had.

    ¡°What do you think of the archmage¡¯s new favorite?¡± Imogen asked.

    ¡°Damien? Seems like a nice kid. Works hard, doesn¡¯t complain.¡± Alden shook his head. ¡°He also scares the hell out of me. Some of the stuff he¡¯s done in only a year doesn¡¯t seem quite human.¡±

    ¡°Do you think she puts too much faith in the boy?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Why don¡¯t you ask her?¡±

    Imogen¡¯s lips quirked in what passed for a smile. ¡°I think not. I¡¯ve become quite comfortable in my position with the legion and have no desire to leave.¡±

    ¡°Good call. Besides, as far as I know Damien¡¯s never failed on a mission. When you think what they¡¯ve asked the kid to do, that¡¯s remarkable.¡±

    ¡°It certainly is. I believe that¡¯s the Warren house down there.¡±

    They landed and in the light of a conjured globe Alden compared the number on the post outside to the number on his scroll. ¡°Yeah, this is it.¡±

    No light burned in the windows. The curtains were open, but nothing moved inside. The house seemed pretty intact beyond some smashed windows. They¡¯d gotten off luckier than some.

    ¡°You want to scout it or just head in?¡± Alden asked.

    ¡°These are just normal people, certainly no threat to us.¡± Imogen strode down the path, up to the door, and knocked. ¡°This is the Crimson Legion! Open up in the king¡¯s name!¡±

    Alden joined her beside the silent house. ¡°I thought you were against shouting?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a time and place for everything. I sense no soul force inside, do you?¡±

    Alden cocked his head and focused. He¡¯d never been the best when it came to detecting others. He shook his head. ¡°Nothing. What do you say we go in and have a look?¡±

    ¡°My plan exactly.¡± Imogen conjured a blob of energy and pushed it into the keyhole. The blob shifted into a key and popped the lock.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    Alden sent a handful of lights in ahead of them. The foyer held nothing but an empty bench. They continued on into the kitchen. Alden opened a cupboard and found it empty. No dishes, no food, no sign anyone lived here.

    ¡°Are you certain this is the correct place?¡± Imogen asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s the right address, but if a family of three lives here they¡¯re the neatest family in history and they eat out a lot.¡±

    The living room couch had a thick layer of dust matched by the one on the empty bookcase. The hearth was clean and free of ashes. Alden shook his head. No one had lived here in a while.

    The second floor had three small, empty, dust-filled rooms. The only sign of life was a line of mouse tracks in one of the rooms. When they¡¯d searched the house from top to bottom they returned to the foyer.

    ¡°This was a waste of time,¡± Imogen said.

    ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t. We know Carmen lied about living here which makes her an even bigger suspect. Let¡¯s see what the neighbors have to say.¡±

    Alden walked to the next house over, a two-story building identical to the one they¡¯d just searched. Light spilled out from drawn curtains that blocked the broken windows. A trickle of smoke rose from the chimney. He rapped on the door and a moment after Imogen joined him it opened.

    A middle-aged man with a great belly and no hair squinted at them in the glare of their conjured lights. He looked first at Imogen. The men, and Alden reluctantly admitted, most of the women, always looked at her first. The man¡¯s gaze shifted to Alden. ¡°Can I help you?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re with the Crimson Legion, sir. What can you tell us about the house next door?¡± Alden pointed at the abandoned house so the homeowner would know which one he meant.

    ¡°Oh, the old Warren place. It¡¯s been empty since the first part of winter. Old lady Warren died and no one¡¯s been around since. Shame really. It¡¯s a nice house.¡±

    ¡°Did Mrs. Warren have any family?¡±

    ¡°There was a young woman that used to come around maybe six months ago. Don¡¯t know if she was kin or not and I haven¡¯t seen her since the old lady died.¡±

    Alden dug out the scroll. ¡°About five foot six, slim, long brown hair, mid-twenties?¡±

    ¡°That sounds about right. I never talked to the woman myself. My wife caught me looking once and I ate nothing but beans for a week.¡± He offered a what-can-you-do shrug.

    ¡°Did you ever see the young woman with anyone else?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The man pointed back up the street toward the castle. ¡°She always came from that way and left that way.¡±

    Imogen turned and walked away. The bald man¡¯s gaze locked on her ass and a smile crept across his face.

    Alden shook his head. ¡°If Imogen catches you staring at her you¡¯ll have bigger problems than beans for dinner.¡±

    ¡°Not very friendly, is she?¡±

    ¡°No, not very.¡±

    ¡°Great ass though.¡±

    Alden stole a glimpse. ¡°I can¡¯t argue with you there.¡±

    ¡°You know, that reminds me. There was another person that came to visit the Warren place.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°A redheaded sorcerer. She had a nice ass too. Not as nice as your friend, but not bad. That was just a week before old lady Warren died.¡±

    Alden¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°How do you know she was a sorcerer?¡±

    ¡°When she left the house she flew away. Damnedest thing was, she was barefoot. There had to be a foot of snow.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir. You¡¯ve been a big help.¡± Alden rushed to catch up to Imogen. ¡°The redhead from Port Valcane was here a week before Mrs. Warren died.¡±

    ¡°Are you certain it¡¯s the same woman?¡±

    ¡°How many redheaded sorcerers are there that like to go barefoot? It must be her.¡±

    ¡°If a known agent of Connor Blackman came visiting then Carmen must be our spy.¡±

 4.6

    Imogen went to report to the archmage while Alden sought out Holly. He found her asleep in the little cot he¡¯d set up for her right by the kitchen. The scents of baking bread and frying bacon mingled in the air and set Alden¡¯s stomach rumbling. It had been close to twelve hours since he or Imogen ate anything. While his partner sometimes went days operating on nothing but anger Alden planned to grab a snack before they headed back out.

    He looked down at Holly. Her mouth hung partway open and she clutched her pillow like a stuffed animal. She looked so peaceful he hated to wake her. Unfortunately they needed information and she was the person most likely to have it.

    A gentle shake of her shoulder brought a groan and one open eye. When she registered his presence Holly rubbed her eyes and sat up. ¡°Have you found Jonny?¡±

    ¡°Not yet. I hoped you could help me. Was there any place your brother and Carmen liked to go? Somewhere special?¡±

    ¡°You mean when they¡­you know?¡±

    ¡°That or just somewhere they liked to have a drink and something to eat. Maybe somewhere they went on a date. Anything you can think of that might give us a place to look.¡±

    She tapped the tip of her nose, her face scrunched up as she thought. ¡°Jonny didn¡¯t talk to me that much about Carmen. It¡¯s like he wanted to keep us separate. There was a bar called the Iron Pig where he went with the other guards sometimes, but I doubt he¡¯d take Carmen there. It wasn¡¯t fancy enough for her.¡±

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.¡°She liked fancy things?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes. It seemed like every time I saw her she had a new silk scarf, or a new dress. I don¡¯t know how she afforded it. After all she doesn¡¯t make that much more than me and I couldn¡¯t buy a new scarf if I saved for three months. Jonny didn¡¯t buy it for her either. All his money went to keeping a roof over our heads and food in the kitchen. And now the roof is in the kitchen.¡± She let out a hysterical giggle.

    ¡°Do you know any of Carmen¡¯s friends?¡±

    ¡°No. The girls in the linen room don¡¯t like her. They always say she thinks too much of herself. Like she was better than them.¡± Holly shook her head. ¡°I just don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± He patted Holly¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ve been a great help.¡±

    Alden slipped into the kitchen, collected two bacon and egg sandwiches, and headed to the throne room. Imogen stood off to one side, arms crossed, scowling. If she didn¡¯t let up her pretty face would develop some deep wrinkles. He walked over and handed her a sandwich.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± She accepted the food and took a bite.

    When they finished eating Alden said, ¡°What did the archmage have to say?¡±

    ¡°Not much beyond keep at it. She sent three of the others to patrol the skies in case the redhead shows up to collect the urn. Damage reports have been coming in pretty steady. Sounds like just about every building in the city took some damage, but deaths have been minimal.¡±

    ¡°Thank heaven for small mercies. Holly didn¡¯t know much else, though it sounds like Carmen wasn¡¯t very popular with her fellow workers. If any of them know anything they¡¯ll probably tell us.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s find out.¡± Imogen led the way over to Dale Allen.

    The tired old seneschal was dozing on a bench on the far side of the throne room. If Imogen had any qualms about waking him she gave no sign. She bent over and shook him.

    Dale sputtered and sat up. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Where might we find the ladies that work in the linen room?¡± she asked.

    Dale yawned. ¡°That¡¯s a day job. I suspect you¡¯ll find them at home cleaning up. I can look up their addresses if you like or you can wait a couple hours. They should all be in at dawn.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll take the addresses,¡± Imogen said in a tone that added, now.

 4.7

    Besides Carmen three women worked in the linen room. They called themselves ¡°the linen ladies¡± and conveniently for Alden and Imogen they all lived within a block of each other on Steak Street near the slaughterhouses. Their street ran right along the outer wall as the slaughterhouses were built up against it.

    When Imogen questioned Dale he said each building had a grate that drained into the sewer to allow blood and offal to wash out of the city. He¡¯d hastened to reassure them that the grates were fixed in place and that two more secured the exit from the city. Not to mention the drains were only a foot in diameter. Far too small for a person to slip through. Alden had shared a look with Imogen and thanked Dale before the two of them rushed out into the city yet again.

    ¡°What a mess,¡± Alden said.

    He and Imogen floated in the sky above Steak Street surveying the damage. The working class district had suffered the greatest damage they¡¯d seen so far. Whole blocks lay in ruins. Only the slaughterhouses themselves, being built of stone, had escaped the worst of the damage.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be a miracle if they¡¯re still alive to be questioned,¡± Imogen said.

    Alden could only agree. In the distance thunder rumbled. All they needed now was a rain storm to add to their misery. They landed, he pulled the scroll out, and consulted the new information Dale had provided. Based on the nearest building numbers they were two blocks south of where they needed to be. Alden hadn¡¯t taken more than a handful of steps when Imogen grabbed his arm.

    ¡°Do you feel that?¡± she asked.

    Alden concentrated. He sensed a faint flicker of something, but couldn¡¯t tell what. The lowing of cows came from a nearby building.

    ¡°It¡¯s coming from there.¡± Imogen crossed the street and went toward the cows. Alden clenched his jaw and followed.

    She hadn¡¯t gotten over halfway across when the moos turned to pained screams. Alden had never heard animals make a noise like that. It reminded him a little of some of the prisoners he¡¯d questioned.

    They stopped at the closed door of the slaughterhouse. ¡°I sense corruption.¡±

    Alden felt it as well and if he could sense it the source had to be close. ¡°Not too strong. Certainly not a demon.¡±

    ¡°No, but if not a demon then what?¡±

    That was an excellent question. Unfortunately the only way to answer it was to open the door and take a look. Imogen conjured her golden armor and ax then looked at him. Alden sent power to his shield and nodded.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    Imogen pushed the door open and the coppery tang of fresh blood washed over them. Alden sent globes of light into the dark building. Ten stalls covered the back wall. Four of them held dead cows. A small stream of blood ran across the stone floor and down the drain in the center of the building. The grate lay on the floor about three feet away, the edges of the steel seemingly melted.

    ¡°So much for the pipes being secure,¡± Alden said.

    A hiss came from one of the stalls along with the sound of tearing meat and smacking lips. Alden gagged, but swallowed his nausea. Imogen gestured and the stall doors swung open. The sounds stopped and three heads popped up from behind one of the carcasses. Burning red eyes bore into the intruding sorcerers.

    For a moment Alden thought they were dogs, but the muzzles were too long and narrow. The fur only grew in patches and where the fur ended bone spurs poked through the creatures¡¯ flesh. One of them climbed up on the dead cow. It had a long, ringed tail that ended in a spike dripping greenish fluid. Everywhere the glop hit smoke rose.

    ¡°They¡¯re raccoons,¡± Imogen said, disbelief clear in her voice.

    ¡°Maybe they were raccoons, but now I¡¯m not so sure.¡±

    The other two climbed up beside the first and all three hissed. Another hiss came from above them. Three more pairs of red eyes stared down at Alden. He sent more lights up into the rafters. A trio of twisted animals leered down at them, their tails dripping acid on the floor.

    ¡°You want the three in the rafters or the three by the cow?¡± Imogen asked.

    Alden wanted to go for reinforcements, but that didn¡¯t appear to be an option. Imogen lunged toward the three on the ground, her golden ax flying ahead of her. The freakish raccoons dodged the whirling blade and split up.

    A stream of acid spattered against his shield, reminding Alden that he had his own opponents to deal with. He sent a handful of blades streaking into the rafters. One blade sliced a raccoon on the side, but the nimble creatures dodged the rest.

    Two of them raced for the open door. Alden concentrated and a golden dome surrounded the building. They couldn¡¯t have demonic raccoons running around the city, the normal ones caused enough trouble.

    The two that ran looked back at him and hissed. A shout from behind him indicated Imogen was having problems of her own.

    Alden sent more blasts at the raccoon still in the rafters, but it dodged them all. He clenched his jaw. Ranged attacks weren¡¯t going to get the job done. The targets were too small and fast.

    He conjured a globe around the raccoon. It lasted an instant before the monster shattered it with its tail. The acid burned through his thin construct like it was nothing.

    More acid spattered his shield and he had to reinforce it or get his back melted. His opponents outflanked him in every direction.

    Alden surrounded himself with a conjured sphere and put half his remaining power into it. The acid would take a while to burn through that. He spun and found Imogen standing over the corpse of one raccoon while the other two ran around her squirting acid and dodging her ax. Her golden armor looked ragged. She must not have enough power left to repair the acid damage.

    He flew down and brought her into his barrier.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Imogen glared at him.

    ¡°The two of us aren¡¯t enough. I can¡¯t even hit mine, much less kill them. We need help. I can maintain our defenses if you send a message to the archmage.¡±

    Imogen¡¯s face looked like she¡¯d bitten into a lemon. ¡°Very well. I just hope they arrive before either the dome or bubble give out.¡±

 4.8

    Carmen Warren crouched amid the rubble of a collapsed tenement. She hated this part of the city. The stench of blood and offal made the air almost unbreathable. How the others lived amidst such filth Carmen couldn¡¯t imagine. Nestled between the two broken timbers beside her rested a rune-stitched satchel holding a black urn. Carmen neither knew nor cared what the urn was for. All that interested her was the huge sack of gold she¡¯d been promised for its delivery.

    Across the street two members of the Crimson Legion were approaching the slaughterhouse where her contact told her to meet the couriers. She didn¡¯t recognize the two sorcerers. Whenever one of the legionnaires passed her in the castle she made certain not to meet their gaze. Morana had assured her when she brought the first pouch of gold that sorcerers couldn¡¯t read her mind, but Carmen wasn¡¯t taking any chances.

    The sorcerers disappeared inside. If they captured the couriers how would Carmen get the urn out of the city? And more important, how would she get paid? She didn¡¯t want to have to go back to Jonny for help. He¡¯d made it pretty clear after she tied him up that she was on her own. Maybe she could steal the crystal bird that brought his orders and send that for help.

    A golden dome appeared over the slaughterhouse and from inside came several explosions. Carmen slipped the satchel over her head and slunk back away from the battle. This was a waste of time. She needed to escape before the sorcerers finished their business with the courier.

    When she¡¯d moved out of sight of the dome she turned and ran. She¡¯d left Jonny tied to the bed in their favorite room at the White Stag inn. The cleaning ladies didn¡¯t get started until midmorning and given the damage from the quake they¡¯d probably start later yet today. She had plenty of time to sneak back and convince Jonny to help. If he refused and she got caught he¡¯d be in as much danger as her. Carmen doubted she¡¯d stand up under questioning and she planned to make that very clear to him.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.The inn had remained standing through the quake, but the front steps no longer connected to the building and all but two windows lay shattered on the dirt outside. She opened the door and leapt the gap between the doorway and landing. Inside the girls were working at setting up tables and sweeping glass. Two of them glanced up when she entered before returning to their tasks. Carmen came here a lot and no one gave her a second look. The scent of frying sausages and brewing tea wafted out of the kitchen.

    She forced her hunger aside and ran up the stairs to the second floor. Carmen slipped into room three and found her lover right where she¡¯d left him, naked and tied to the headboard.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing back here?¡± Jonny asked.

    ¡°The legion got to the drop before me. They were fighting the courier when I left. I need help, some other way to get rid of this thing.¡±

    ¡°What do you want me to do? I¡¯m supposed to resume my post after they find me tied up. If I help you anymore there¡¯s no way I¡¯ll be able to go back to my position.¡±

    ¡°After this conversation you¡¯re doomed anyway. We both need to get out of the city. If either of us is caught the other¡¯s had it.¡±

    ¡°Damn it, Carmen, that¡¯s why you weren¡¯t supposed to come back. Fine, cut me loose. I know another way out of the city. We¡¯ll deliver the package to my contact outside of town. I can send for Holly in a few months.¡±

    Carmen almost leapt for joy. Of course Jonny had a secret way out of the city. He¡¯d been spying longer than she had. The prick might have mentioned it before now, but that was an argument for when they were safe.

    His clothes hung on the back of the door and Carmen dug the little knife he always carried out of the front pocket of his pants and sliced the cheap scarves holding him to the bed. He watched her through half-closed eyes and rubbed his wrists.

    ¡°Hurry up. We need to get out of here.¡±

    Jonny sat up and punched her in the side of the head. The room flashed in and out of focus and the knife clattered to the floor. His big, strong hands wrapped around her throat and squeezed.

    Carmen tried to fight, but he spun her over and slammed her skull into the headboard. Everything went dark for a second.

    ¡°Keep it down in there!¡± someone shouted from out in the hall.

    She tried to call for help, but no sound came out.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Jonny said. ¡°We got a little carried away.¡±

    A muffled grunt then steps on the hardwood floor. No help from that direction. No help anywhere.

    The world went red then black.

 4.9

    Damien packed his spare tunic and pulled the drawstrings on his rucksack tight. Somehow he¡¯d imagined he would have more than one night in his own bed before he went on another mission. He yawned and debated a nap, but dawn waited only a couple hours off and then he¡¯d have to get going again. It wasn¡¯t worth the fuzzy head he¡¯d end up with. Times like this he wished he could wash the exhaustion away with soul force the way Jen did. Maybe he could order a cup of double-strength tea.

    He looked around his room and sighed. It could be anyone¡¯s room. It looked the same as it had the day Dale first brought him here. Nothing decorated the wall, no knickknacks sat on his desk or nightstand. This wasn¡¯t home, it was just a place to sleep. Not that he got to do much of that either.

    A knock on the door brought him out of his morose musings. He glanced at the door and it swung open. Jen stood outside, a tray of food in her hands. She¡¯d traded her usual slashed, blue and silver uniform for a tunic and pants in mottled browns and greens. It looked similar to what Leah wore.

    ¡°Breakfast?¡± Jen asked.

    Damien conjured a table and chairs. He sat and Jen joined him, setting a plate in front of him. His mouth watered when he smelled the eggs and roasted potatoes. She poured them each a mug of tea.

    He shut the door and smiled. ¡°And you said you didn¡¯t know what to get me for my name day.¡±

    She returned the smile and they ate in silence for a few minutes. When they¡¯d cleaned their plates and only the tea remained Jen asked, ¡°How are you holding up?¡±

    ¡°I could have used another couple days to rest, but I¡¯m fine. You?¡±

    ¡°I imagined a day or two of peace and quiet with my brother when Karrie said she was throwing you a party. Investigating an earthquake caused by a group I¡¯d never heard of didn''t cross my mind.¡±

    Damien sipped his tea, the caffeine already washing away some of his fatigue. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not the sort of thing that comes up often.¡±

    She raised her cup in salute. ¡°I¡¯ll drink to that.¡±

    ¡°Karrie still wants me to marry her. She even asked to meet Lizzy and said she was willing to share me. Can you imagine?¡±

    ¡°No. How did you leave it?¡±

    ¡°Twisting in the wind. We were supposed to talk more after the party, but the earthquake saved me. Heaven¡¯s mercy! I don¡¯t know what to do. Lizzy says Karrie¡¯s afraid the noble boys will take advantage of her and try to take over. She seems to trust me, probably because I don¡¯t care about being in charge of anything. If it was just a matter of helping her I wouldn¡¯t mind, but there are expectations I don¡¯t want to deal with.¡±

    ¡°Expectations?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, family expectations, you know¡­heirs. Not to mention I¡¯d have to spend my time sitting in the castle listening to nobles or merchants or whoever bitch about their problems. I couldn¡¯t do that and stay sane.¡±

    ¡°So what are you going to do?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to chase down rogue druids with you and try not to think about it.¡±

    Jen shook her head. ¡°The problem will still be here when you get back.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°True, but every day I delay increases the chances Karrie will find someone that will actually be a good match for her. Of course it would help if she was actually looking for someone else.¡±

    Damien sensed the soul force approaching a moment before the golden energy slid under his door and across the room to his nightstand. Letters formed. Throne room. Now.

    Damien sighed. ¡°It appears I¡¯m wanted in the throne room.¡±

    Jen gathered up their plates and her tray. ¡°Go on. I¡¯ll take care of this.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    He opened the door and found Salem waiting with a honey roll. She started and stepped back. ¡°I thought you might be hungry.¡±

    ¡°Jen brought me breakfast, but I always have room for a roll. Thank you.¡± He accepted the snack and took a bite. ¡°I¡¯m headed for the throne room. Walk with me?¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    The living quarters were mostly cleaned up. They passed the errand boy Damien had talked to earlier picking up pieces of a broken lamp. He waved at Damien before returning to his chore. Damien found Salem smiling at him.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. It¡¯s just you seem to make friends so easily. I¡¯ve never had any before I met you.¡±

    ¡°No surprise considering where you came from. I trust you¡¯re doing better here?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes. I¡¯ve been helping John tend to the injured. They¡¯re all so happy to see a sorcerer coming to help. People really do look at us differently here.¡±

    ¡°Told you. Just wait, in a year or two you¡¯ll have so many friends you won¡¯t know what to do with them all.¡±

    They reached the throne room and the archmage waved him over.

    ¡°Be careful,¡± Salem said.

    ¡°It may not be something dangerous.¡±

    ¡°If she wants you to do it I¡¯m sure it¡¯s dangerous.¡±

    What could he say to that? He waved goodbye and went to join the archmage at the map table. ¡°Master?¡±

    ¡°Imogen and Alden are in trouble and you¡¯re the only sorcerer I can spare. I hate to send you out this close to your departure, but I¡¯m out of options.¡±

    ¡°Of course. Where are they and what¡¯s the problem?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re trapped in a slaughterhouse on Steak Street by some sort of demonic animals.¡±

    ¡°Like the wolves? It seems unlikely it¡¯s a coincidence.¡±

    ¡°Agreed. Another reason I¡¯m sending you is in the hopes that you¡¯ll recognize the demonic energy. If it is the same I need to know.¡±

    ¡°Understood. I¡¯ll be back soon.¡±

    Damien marched out of the throne room and into the courtyard where he leapt into the sky. This was what he was meant to do. Fly out, find something evil, and kill it.

    He flew high above the city and soon spotted the golden dome surrounding a stone building near the wall. That had to be Alden¡¯s barrier.

    He shot like an arrow straight at the target. When he reached the building a gap opened in the dome and he slipped through. He concentrated. There were five weak demonic energy sources surrounding Alden and Imogen. It felt the same as the wolves, but he wasn¡¯t certain.

    The trapped sorcerers were in the center of the building so he went to the western edge and blasted a hole in the roof. Capering like deranged imps in a children¡¯s story, five twisted raccoons ran around a golden bubble. Every so often one of them paused and squirted something from its tail at the shield where it would smoke and eventually slide off onto the floor to pit the stone.

    One of the creatures must have sensed him. It broke off and ran towards Damien. He tried to blast the ugly thing, but it dodged.

    He frowned and a hand appeared. His construct grasped the creature and squeezed so hard its head popped off. Golden bubbles surrounded the remaining four monsters.

    They tried to dissolve the traps with their acid, but he poured more soul force into the bubbles. A moment later he shrank them to a quarter of their starting size. The raccoons were reduced to puddles of black ooze.

    Damien gathered the carcasses, including a sixth one he spotted near a dead cow, and incinerated them. Alden and Imogen descended to the floor, and the sphere and the barrier outside the building vanished.

    ¡°Excellent timing, Damien,¡± Alden said. The two men shook hands. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much longer we could have held out.¡±

    Imogen walked a little ways away, ignoring him completely. Damien shook his head. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°We were tracking down a lead on the urn and Imogen sensed the monsters. We investigated and were overwhelmed.¡± Alden smiled. ¡°You made it seem so easy.¡±

    ¡°I was expecting trouble. If they¡¯d surprised me I¡¯m sure it would have gone differently.¡±

    ¡°No it wouldn¡¯t.¡± Imogen stared at him, arms crossed. ¡°We do not require your pity.¡±

    ¡°And lucky for me I don¡¯t require your gratitude.¡± Damien nodded to Alden. ¡°Be careful.¡±

    Damien flew up and out the hole he¡¯d blasted in the roof. He had an hour or so before he had to leave. What more trouble could he get into?

 4.10

    Alden focused on the drain, his soul force drawing the stone down to form a plug so nothing else could slip through. Off to his left Imogen worked at checking all the stalls to make sure there were no other outlets. Alden sighed and finished his shaping. Who¡¯d have thought the city would have to worry about demon raccoons? It sounded like a bad joke.

    He glanced over in time to watch Imogen send a bucket clattering across the floor. Getting rescued had turned her bad mood into a terrible one. At least her anger wasn¡¯t directed at him, for the moment.

    ¡°I¡¯m done.¡±

    Imogen looked his way. ¡°Me too. There¡¯s no other way in.¡±

    They left the slaughterhouse and crossed the street to the ruined apartments. A little ways down the road a group of residents picked through what remained of the block. They must have just got there as he didn¡¯t remember seeing them when he and Imogen arrived. Alden angled their way.

    As they walked he asked, ¡°What¡¯s your problem with Damien anyway? He saved our lives today.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and he didn¡¯t even break a sweat. I had always considered myself strong. Not at the level of the archmage, but still strong. Then I met Damien and saw what strong actually looks like. He does things impossible for anyone else without even trying. And he¡¯s so damn polite. Anyone that powerful should at least be an asshole.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯d like Damien better if he was weaker or a jerk? You know that sounds insane.¡±

    She managed a weak laugh. ¡°I suppose it does. Since this Connor Blackman business began it¡¯s become clear to me I¡¯m nowhere near as equipped to deal with some of the threats out in the world as I believed I was.¡±

    Alden nodded. ¡°You believed you were closer to Damien¡¯s level and now that he¡¯s shown you what that level is you don¡¯t like him for it. Nothing like getting your illusions shattered to ruin your day.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to sound so happy about it.¡±

    Alden smiled as they walked up to the residents. ¡°Excuse me. Has anyone seen the linen ladies around?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    A pudgy woman with puffy eyes and a wattle under her chin raised a hand. ¡°I¡¯m Marsha Owens. I work in the linen room. The others were enjoying a night out with their husbands when the quake hit. They haven¡¯t come home yet.¡±

    ¡°Well, maybe you can help us,¡± Alden said. ¡°We¡¯re trying to find Carmen Warren. She¡¯s not home or at the castle. Since you work with her we hoped you could tell us where we might find her.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can. Carmen isn¡¯t very friendly. Ever since Master Allen put her in charge she¡¯s gotten pretty full of herself. It didn¡¯t help that she started going with that nice-looking guardsman either.¡±

    ¡°Jonathan Linn?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°Why did Dale put her in charge? She¡¯s quite a bit younger than the other ladies. No offense.¡±

    ¡°None taken. Carmen had a knack for fine stitching. Some of her work caught the queen¡¯s eye. Word is the queen spoke to Master Allen and a couple days later Carmen was in charge. That¡¯s the way it goes with the high and mighty.¡± Marsha shrugged as if to say, ¡®what can you do?¡¯

    ¡°What about the guardsman? Did Carmen ever brag about somewhere they went or something they did?¡±

    Marsha glanced at the silently glaring Imogen before looking back at Alden. ¡°She basically claimed they¡¯d done it in every inn in the city. How much truth there was to it I couldn¡¯t say. Are we expected to come in today? My uniform¡¯s buried up there somewhere.¡± She waved vaguely toward the collapsed building.

    ¡°I believe Dale is expecting everyone to come in, but I wouldn¡¯t worry about the uniform. Thanks for your help.¡±

    Alden turned and walked away. That had been a complete waste of time.

    They hadn¡¯t gone more than a handful of steps when Marsha said, ¡°Did you talk to Jonathan¡¯s best friend yet? Tommy¡¯s a good boy, he could probably help you.¡±

    Alden turned back towards her. ¡°Tommy?¡±

    Marsha nodded. ¡°Tommy Jacobs, he lives in the neighborhood. He was digging out his uncle¡¯s place over on Pullet Street.¡± She pointed up the street toward the wall.

    ¡°Much obliged, Mrs. Owens.¡±

    Alden and Imogen quickstepped it down the street. Pullet Street was marked with a sign shaped like a chicken. Fifty feet down the way five men were busy pulling boards out of a pile that used to be a building.

    ¡°Tommy Jacobs?¡± Alden asked.

    A young man in his mid-twenties looked up. The moment he saw Alden and Imogen he went rigid at attention. He clapped his fist to his chest. The rest of the workers had stopped and were staring at him.

    ¡°At your service, Legionnaires,¡± Tommy said.

    Alden grinned. Every once in a while you came across a guardsman that still held the legion in awe. ¡°We¡¯re looking for Carmen Warren. Mrs. Owens thought you could help.¡±

    ¡°Sure, Jonny¡¯s girl. One of them anyway.¡±

    ¡°One of them?¡± Imogen¡¯s voice held its usual edge.

    Tommy nodded. ¡°Jonny has three or four at a time as a rule. Carmen¡¯s his current favorite though. She¡¯s the first to last more than a month. Assuming it hasn¡¯t collapsed, you can probably find them at Jonny¡¯s love nest over at the White Stag.¡±

    ¡°My thanks, Guardsman,¡± Alden said.

    The young man bowed. ¡°An honor to be of service.¡±

 4.11

    Alden soared into the air and Imogen followed. ¡°You didn¡¯t get an address,¡± she said.

    ¡°No need.¡± Alden turned toward the city center. ¡°I¡¯ve eaten there a few times. They make the best venison stew I¡¯ve ever tasted.¡±

    ¡°You never mentioned it.¡±

    After a thirty-second flight Alden descended. ¡°We don¡¯t generally talk about anything besides work. I didn¡¯t even know you liked venison stew.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t. I find it gamey and tough.¡±

    They landed in front of the inn. It had escaped the worst of the quake. The only visible damage beyond the windows was that the front steps had separated from the building and the stag-shaped sign had fallen to the ground.

    Alden led the way up to the landing. They¡¯d barely stepped through the door when someone screamed on the second floor. Alden ran for the stairs.

    At the top they found a girl in a white uniform standing in an open doorway, her hand to her mouth and her body trembling. Alden gently guided her to one side.

    Lying on the bed was a body. Female, dark hair. He had a sick feeling they¡¯d found Carmen. He gently shook the servant girl until she looked at him. ¡°Please wait downstairs. We need to have a look around the room. Don¡¯t go too far, we might have questions.¡±

    She nodded and rushed away. Alden went to the body while Imogen scanned for signs of corruption. Carmen¡ªAlden planned to operate under the assumption that it was her body¡ªhad bruises on her neck from someone¡¯s hands. There was a patch of blood on the headboard where her skull bounced off it.

    It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out what happened here. Carmen came running to Jonny for help and he strangled her before fleeing the scene.

    ¡°The room¡¯s clean.¡± Imogen frowned at the dead girl. ¡°If she had the urn with her it never came out of whatever¡¯s hiding its corruption. Is it Carmen?¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Alden shrugged. ¡°I assume so. She fits the description at least. I¡¯ve never met the woman so I can¡¯t say for certain. Let¡¯s poke around a little more then go talk to the staff. Maybe one of them can identify her.¡±

    Half an hour later they left the room no more enlightened than when they started. Someone, Jonny most likely, had cleaned the place out. There wasn¡¯t so much as a scrap of cloth in the closet or bureau.

    Downstairs the second-fattest woman Alden had ever seen was pacing the dining room floor, her three chins jiggling with every step. The moment she spotted them the woman stomped over. ¡°When can you get that body out of here? We¡¯re planning to open soon.¡±

    Her concern touched Alden¡¯s heart. ¡°We¡¯ll move it as soon as we can, Miss¡­?¡±

    ¡°Stoltz, Miranda Stoltz. I own this place.¡±

    ¡°Who rented that room?¡± Imogen asked.

    ¡°Jonny ¡®I¡¯ll fuck anything with a pulse¡¯ Linn. The son of a bitch is a day late on his rent and he knocked up three of my girls in the last two months. Now he leaves a dead body for me to clean up. If you see him tell him he can find a new place to play with his whores.¡±

    ¡°Can you identify the body for us?¡± Alden asked.

    The girl from upstairs raised a trembling hand. Alden offered a hopefully reassuring smile. ¡°Do you know her, sweetheart?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir. It¡¯s Carmen. She was Jonny¡¯s favorite. He brought her in a couple times a week.¡±

    Miranda laughed. ¡°That asshole''s favorite was whoever he could convince to spread her legs that night.¡±

    The girl blushed and looked away.

    Maybe the maid had filled in when Carmen wasn¡¯t available. ¡°Do you have any idea where Jonny might go if he was in trouble?¡± Alden asked.

    ¡°No, sir. We didn¡¯t really talk.¡±

    ¡°When did he leave?¡± Imogen matched Miranda glare for glare.

    ¡°About an hour ago. One of the other guests complained about the noise. Jonny and his slut were more enthusiastic than usual this morning. Really knocking the old headboard.¡±

    ¡°Actually that was him beating her unconscious while he strangled her to death,¡± Alden said.

    The maid let out a squeak and dashed for the kitchen. He winced. The girl was upset enough. He should have been more careful.

    ¡°Whatever.¡±

    ¡°Alright. We¡¯ll send someone by to collect the body.¡±

    ¡°Tell them it¡¯ll be in the alley. I won¡¯t have that bitch¡¯s corpse stinking up my place.¡±

    ¡°What a charming woman,¡± Alden said when they¡¯d left the Stag behind.

    Imogen grunted. ¡°What now? We¡¯re about out of places to look.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s the nearest gate?¡±

    ¡°Why? They¡¯re all sealed.¡±

    Alden turned toward the north gate, he was pretty sure it was the closest. ¡°You don¡¯t suppose he¡¯d be arrogant enough to think he could talk his way out? One guard helping another?¡±

    They raced into the air. It was a twenty-minute walk, but they could fly it in a few seconds.

 4.12

    Four guards in blue and silver tabards leaned against the city wall beside the closed portcullis, their spears propped up beside them. They passed a flask between them and one laughed. They were the absolute picture of camaraderie and good cheer. What they weren¡¯t the picture of was alert guardsmen on the watch for trouble.

    Imogen landed a little ahead of him and strode toward the guards, a second quake on legs. They scrambled to straighten up and hide the flask. The oldest of the bunch, a bearded fellow with a copper sergeant¡¯s shield pinned to his chest, moved to intercept her.

    ¡°Can I help you, ma¡¯am?¡± he asked.

    She turned her piercing gaze on the sergeant, pinning him in place. ¡°Is this how you man your posts when your king orders the city sealed? You stand around drinking?¡±

    While Imogen questioned the sergeant Alden put a block in his head to keep him from lying. It would be interesting to discover what excuses he came up with limited to the truth.

    ¡°It¡¯s been quiet. Been quiet all night. Couldn¡¯t see any harm in having a nip to take the chill off.¡±

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t see any harm, could you?¡± Imogen levitated a foot off the ground glowering down at the sweating man. ¡°I should take your shield for such dereliction during a city-wide emergency.¡±

    ¡°No need to get all riled up¡ª¡±

    One of the guardsmen groaned and collapsed flat on his face.

    ¡°Jenson!¡± another man said a moment before he shuddered and collapsed beside his friend.

    Alden pointed at the sergeant. ¡°Check him.¡±

    He went to the still-standing guard and sent a stream of soul force into him. It took only a moment to find the poison gnawing at the guard¡¯s brain. Alden neutralized it and repaired the damage. The man still looked unsteady so Alden helped him sit.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    A thump drew Alden¡¯s gaze back to Imogen. The sergeant had plopped down in the dirt, his eyes half closed, a trickle of drool running down his chin. Alden fished the flask out of one of the unconscious men¡¯s pockets and scanned it.

    ¡°What did you find?¡± Imogen asked.

    ¡°Poison. How much you want to bet it¡¯s the same stuff they used on us?¡±

    ¡°No bet. Looks like you were right about Jonny stopping for a visit. I bet he¡¯s close.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, probably watching us right now.¡± Alden glanced at the buildings across the street. He didn¡¯t see or sense anything. Assuming Jonny had seen them he¡¯d probably run for it. The sergeant groaned, tried to stand up, and failed.

    ¡°You talk to him,¡± Imogen said. ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can spot Jonny.¡±

    She shot straight up a hundred yards leaving Alden to deal with the guards. He sent his partner a silent, insincere thank you and turned his attention to the semi-coherent guard sergeant.

    ¡°So what happened?¡±

    ¡°Me and the boys were talking, trying to figure why the king would order the gates sealed when up strolls Jonny Linn, just as big as life, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Jonny says he needs to slip out for a little while and that he¡¯ll be right back. I told him the gates were sealed, no one in, no one out. He puts on this big cock-and-bull story about how no one will ever know. I told him orders were orders. He shrugged, told us to forget about it, and gave us that flask of whiskey. Shit-bird tried to poison us, didn¡¯t he?¡±

    ¡°Actually he succeeded in poisoning you.¡± The sergeant¡¯s eyes about bugged out of his head. Alden pitied him for half a second. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it isn¡¯t fatal, though you guys will all have a nasty headache for the rest of the day.¡±

    The sergeant grunted and rubbed his forehead. ¡°Any more good news?¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re not going to be hung for treason because you let a traitor to the crown escape. By the way, did he have anything with him?¡±

    ¡°Just his gear and this strange-looking satchel.¡±

    ¡°Strange how?¡±

    ¡°It had a bunch of weird designs all over it. Never seen nothing like it.¡±

    That had to be where he was keeping the urn. ¡°Okay. We¡¯ll get a replacement squad out here as soon as we can.¡±

    Alden flew up beside Imogen. ¡°See anything?¡±

    ¡°Lots of damaged buildings and even more people out digging through the rubble. He could be hiding anywhere in all this.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s got a rune-marked satchel with him. That must be what¡¯s hiding the urn¡¯s corruption. We need to get the word out to everyone, guards and regular people both, to be looking for Jonny and that satchel. He¡¯s out of places to run. All he can do now is hide. It¡¯s only a matter of time before we find him.¡±

 4.13

    It was only a matter of time before they found him. Jonny Linn carried a bucket filled with rubble away from a damaged meat market. He¡¯d worked his way ten blocks southwest, helping for a minute here, five minutes there, trying to blend in. Plenty of other people filled the streets after the quake and the meager early morning light didn¡¯t hurt his chances of escape. He¡¯d lose that particular advantage in less than an hour.

    Once the sun was up and those sorcerers put the word out about him Jonny was doomed. He¡¯d been certain he could talk his way past Fat Garrik and his squad, but they were determined to follow orders. Straight-arrow pricks. He figured the last of his poison would do the trick that pretty words hadn¡¯t, but those stupid legionnaires had showed up before it kicked in. Now he was well and truly screwed.

    Stupid walls and guards! He knew people just ten miles south that could help him vanish. They wanted this¡­whatever it was in the satchel. If Jonny reached them he was set.

    ¡°Hey! Give us a hand here.¡± Two stout workers were trying to wrestle a timber off a groaning man¡¯s leg and losing.

    Jonny shrugged and adjusted his sword so the hilt was out of his way. Between the three of them they shifted the timber enough so the trapped man could drag himself clear. The man that had shouted gave Jonny¡¯s hand a firm shake.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.¡°Much obliged, pal. Wasn¡¯t sure if we were going to move that beam or not.¡±

    Jonny slipped into his hale-fellow-well-met routine. ¡°Glad to help. What happened to you gents anyway?¡±

    ¡°Same thing that happens every day of my life: bad luck. We were on our way home from the carter¡¯s shop near the south wall when we decided to stop for a drink. Wouldn¡¯t you know, ten minutes later the thrice-damned tavern fell on us. Took hours to dig free. We were almost out when some timbers shifted and pinned Dad¡¯s leg. Lucky you came by when you did, Guardsman.¡±

    ¡°Always glad to be of service. I¡¯m on patrol, trying to make sure there aren¡¯t any ways out of the capital. You know the king ordered the city sealed?¡±

    ¡°Really? Why?¡±

    ¡°I heard a prisoner escaped during the quake and they¡¯re trying to keep him from getting away. You don¡¯t know of any ways out of the city, do you?¡±

    ¡°Nope, can¡¯t say as I do.¡±

    The older man on the ground yanked his pant leg. Jonny looked down. ¡°Yes, sir?¡±

    ¡°You might want to check some of the businesses bordering the wall. If they collapsed your man might climb the rubble to freedom.¡±

    What an idiot! Jonny hadn¡¯t even thought about going through one of the businesses near the wall. Most of them weren¡¯t high enough, but several were three stories. If he could climb up on one of their roofs he might be able to jump it. It was certainly better than waiting around to get caught.

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t considered that, sir. I¡¯ll be certain to let my superiors know. And thank you for the suggestion.¡±

    The old man puffed himself up. ¡°Not at all. Always glad to help the guard.¡±

 4.14

    Damien found Jen and Leah in the throne room with the archmage. His sister carried Damien¡¯s rucksack and she¡¯d fitted his sword and dagger to the new harness Dad gave him. Leah and his master were talking about something, he couldn¡¯t make out what from the door and they fell silent when he drew close.

    He took the harness from Jen and buckled it on. Someone must have convinced Uncle Andy to go to bed as Dad and the king had both taken their leave.

    ¡°Everything sorted out, Damien?¡± the archmage asked.

    ¡°Yes, Master. They ran into an infestation of demon raccoons. The monsters had Alden and Imogen trapped in a protective bubble. I arrived in time, though from the way she acted I almost think Imogen would have preferred to take her chances with the raccoons. I¡¯m pretty sure their aura was a match for the wolves.¡±

    ¡°That figures. Demon raccoons. Heaven¡¯s mercy, what next?¡± His master sighed. ¡°Imogen¡¯s always been prickly. The important thing is they¡¯re safe. No sign of the urn?¡±

    ¡°Not that I saw.¡±

    ¡°All right. It¡¯s time you three were on your way. Keep in touch.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡± Damien turned to Jen and Leah. ¡°All set?¡±

    Jen nodded. She had her bulging pack, sword, and new clothes. Leah spread her hands and smiled. ¡°I have all I need.¡±

    Apparently it wasn¡¯t much. ¡°Okay. Where are we headed? I can have us anywhere in the kingdom by sunset.¡±

    ¡°Oh no,¡± Leah said. ¡°We can¡¯t fly. If the guilty parties spot a sorcerer approaching they¡¯ll know what the wise one has done. We have to sneak in.¡±

    They didn¡¯t have time to walk or ride and Damien didn¡¯t feel like it anyway. ¡°Can we at least fly partway then walk in?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± Leah frowned and looked away.

    ¡°How long did it take you to walk here?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°Ten days.¡±

    ¡°Do you think we have ten days to spare getting back?¡± Jen raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°I take your point. I know a place where we can land. It¡¯s two days from there to the grove.¡±

    ¡°That sounds like a fair compromise.¡± Damien led the way out of the throne room and toward the main gate. ¡°Which way?¡±

    ¡°Northwest.¡±

    Damien conjured a platform surrounded by a waist-high railing. When they¡¯d all climbed aboard he surrounded it with an invisibility shield and shot into the air. The city blurred below them as they streaked through the pink and orange sky.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Jen stood beside him. ¡°This is much faster than when we flew with Master Shen.¡±

    ¡°Too fast?¡±

    ¡°No. Did you think any more about what you¡¯re going to tell Karrie?¡±

    ¡°No. The demon raccoons distracted me then Imogen insulting me left me too upset to think about it.¡±

    Jen laughed. ¡°All joking aside, you¡¯re going to have to tell her something when we get back.¡±

    Leah joined them at the front of the platform, sparing him from having to answer. Jen was right of course, he couldn¡¯t leave Karrie hanging forever.

    ¡°So where do you want me to land?¡± he asked.

    ¡°There¡¯s a mountain meadow halfway up the slope of an especially jagged peak at the edge of the Crescent Ridge Mountains. From there we can climb down to the lowlands. The grove is about ten miles into the Great Green.¡±

    ¡°Rough country,¡± Damien said. ¡°No wonder it¡¯ll take two days to walk.¡±

    Leah brightened. ¡°Are you familiar with the area?¡±

    ¡°I flew over it once. That probably doesn¡¯t count.¡±

    They reached the meadow a little after noon. Damien settled his transport, the dry meadow grass crunching under the platform. He scanned the area for anyone that might be watching, but sensed nothing beyond a few small animals. Content that they were alone he lowered the invisibility shield.

    Leah set out downslope and to the east. She set a brisk pace and Damien found he had no breath for conversation. Damien had always considered himself to be in good condition, but compared to Leah he was way out of shape. He¡¯d have to stop flying so much and run more.

    Near dark they stopped in a clearing at the border of the Great Green. Towering oaks just starting to bud surrounded them. He slid down the trunk of the nearest tree and closed his eyes. Heaven¡¯s mercy, if tomorrow was as bad as today he wasn¡¯t going to be in any shape to fight anyone.

    When he opened his eyes Jen was standing over him, her pack in her hand. ¡°Unless you want a cold dinner you¡¯re going to have to provide me with some heat.¡±

    Damien groaned. All he wanted was sleep, but from his sister¡¯s tone he knew she was hungry. Warlords burned a lot of energy, two or three times more than a regular person, and needed plenty of food to use their abilities at full strength.

    He pointed at the center of the clearing and golden flames sprang to life. He set a trickle of soul force to maintain them and closed his eyes again. The scent of sizzling meat soon filled the air. Damien¡¯s stomach grumbled and his mouth watered. He could sleep after dinner.

    Damien glanced at Leah. The druid sat off by herself, her legs crossed, a faint, green glow surrounding her body. It didn¡¯t come from within her, but rather from the ground.

    ¡°Is that glow the earth force you mentioned?¡±

    She looked his way and smiled. ¡°Yes. This is one of the sacred groves where initiates come to meditate. The Green Path runs strong in this place.¡±

    ¡°Weren¡¯t you afraid one of your people might be here?¡±

    ¡°If someone was here I planned to introduce you as new members.¡±

    ¡°How come I can see the earth force around you? You said I was too bright and wouldn¡¯t be able to spot it.¡±

    ¡°You can see it because I concentrated it and gathered it around my body. I haven¡¯t slept in four days. The earth force sustains me and will allow me to continue moving until we reach the grove tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°What happens then?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll enter a trance for a day or perhaps two where my body will rest and recover. We call it the little death as it appears those in the trance have stopped breathing. Rest assured I will be fine.¡±

    Damien shook his head. It never ceased to amaze him how little he knew about the kingdom. The instant he imagined he knew what was going on he got hit over the head by druids and demon raccoons.

    ¡°Food¡¯s ready.¡± Jen poured stew into three bowls, handed them out, and set to eating. Damien smiled and tore into a chunk of beef. At least he could count on Jen not changing.

 4.15

    The sun was peeking over the walls when Jonny finally had everything he thought he¡¯d need to make his escape from the capital. He adjusted the coil of rope he¡¯d stolen from the ruins of a hardware store. Assuming he made the jump across to the wall he¡¯d need the rope to climb down without breaking his neck. His first attempt had ended before it began. He¡¯d planned to jump from the roof of the Red Rooster Inn, but when he arrived he found the third floor sunk into the second. The screams of the injured filled the air around the inn. Jonny had made himself scarce in a hurry.

    Now he was headed to his second choice, The Iron Path dojo. They had a flat roof where the students liked to train on nice days. Jonny hoped the masters and students were out doing their civic duty and helping with the injured.

    Every few steps he glanced up at the sky. The three sorcerers patrolling above the city had their eyes pointed up and out, not down. Jonny was just another speck on the ground. Far beneath the notice of such high and mighty people, or so he fervently hoped.

    The dojo was a beautiful red building with decorative tile on each floor¡¯s overhang. Most of the tiles now lay on the ground around the building, smashed into so much rubble. At least the structure itself seemed intact. He looked up. It measured about twelve feet from the edge of the roof over to the wall. That was a hell of a jump, but if he got a good run at it he might just make it. It was his best option at the very least.

    He strode up to the big double doors with their bronze dragons and pounded on them with the hilt of his dagger. He waited a full minute before trying again. When another full minute had passed he slipped the thin blade into the narrow gap between the doors. He worked it up until he met resistance. He grunted and wrenched on the blade. A clatter came from behind the doors and they swung in a little. He shoved them open enough that he could squeeze through and closed and barred them again.

    He frowned. If the doors were barred from the inside, how did the students plan to get back in?

    ¡°Can I help you?¡± An old man with a wispy white beard and wrinkled bronze skin hobbled into the entryway, leaning on a cane. He had to be at least ninety.

    ¡°I¡¯m with the city guard. We¡¯re going from building to building, making sure everything is okay.¡±

    The ancient figure cocked his head. ¡°You broke into our dojo to make sure no one had broken into our dojo?¡±

    Jonny had to admit when he put it that way it did sound pretty stupid. It would sound even worse if he backtracked now. ¡°That¡¯s right. If you¡¯ll excuse me I need to check your roof.¡±

    ¡°Is that what the rope is for?¡± The old pest made no effort to move aside.

    ¡°It¡¯s guard business. Please get out of my way.¡±

    ¡°I think not. I think you¡¯re a liar and a thief who stole that uniform along with the rope. If you truly are here in an official capacity we shall summon a squad of your comrades and ask them. I see no reason for an honest guardsman to object to that.¡±

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.¡°I don¡¯t have time for this.¡±

    Jonny reached out to move the old-timer aside. A moment later he found his arm pinned behind his back. Despite his apparent age the old man had a grip like iron. Jonny was shoved back toward the door. He stumbled and fell to his knees, the carefully coiled rope spilling to the floor.

    Jonny snarled, leapt to his feet, and dragged his sword free of its sheath. It had been a long night and he was out of patience. He¡¯d killed one person already tonight. What was one more?

    ¡°Just who are you anyway?¡± Jonny asked.

    The old man bowed. ¡°Grandmaster of the Iron Path, Fo Shen.¡±

    Jonny swallowed, a good deal less confident about his chances of getting past now. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hurt you. I just want to get up on the roof.¡±

    ¡°I have no wish to hurt you either, but you are clearly not who you claim to be. I have no objection to waiting for the actual guards to arrive and settle this peacefully.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, that won¡¯t work for me.¡±

    Jonny lunged at Shen. The old master dodged aside and tripped him. Jonny staggered and spun back to find his opponent leaning on his cane, a look of serene disinterest on his face.

    Jonny hated being mocked. He wanted to kill the old master now just to show he could.

    He eased closer, sword poised to dart in at the slightest opening. He lunged within striking distance and still Shen hadn¡¯t moved. Jonny slashed at his opponent¡¯s ribs.

    Far faster than someone that wrinkled should be, Shen stepped inside his swing, caught Jonny¡¯s wrist, and sent him flying toward the door. He landed on his rope, barely hanging on to his sword. Jonny leapt to his feet, growling deep in the back of his throat.

    The old master offered a faint smile. ¡°I haven¡¯t had this much fun in years. Do you wish to go again?¡±

    Damn right he wished to go again. Jonny rushed at Shen, hacking and slashing, stabbing and thrusting. It was like trying to stab the air. No matter what he tried Fo Shen seemed to flow around his blade. Jonny couldn¡¯t touch him.

    He backed up after his furious assault, gasping for air. His opponent wasn¡¯t even breathing hard. Jonny seriously doubted Shen even needed his cane.

    ¡°Your technique is adequate,¡± the old master said. ¡°But you use too much muscle and your attacks are obvious. I know what you plan to do an instant after you decide to do it. In a year or two I could teach you to be subtle. Then you would be truly dangerous.¡±

    Jonny seethed as Shen offered his critique. He had always thought of himself as an above-average swordsman. He could stand toe to toe with any of the other guards in the training ring. Yet against a man old enough to be his great-grandfather he couldn¡¯t so much as scratch him.

    He straightened up and strode forward. He had to get past Shen to escape the city, so he would. Jonny¡¯s sword snapped out in quick, darting thrusts. Sometimes two or three in quick succession and never in the same spot twice.

    It didn¡¯t matter. Shen was smoke and Jonny¡¯s sword every bit as effective against him as it was against smoke.

    ¡°Master!¡±

    Fo Shen¡¯s concentration broke for a fraction of a second. Jonny¡¯s sword pierced his stomach and punched out his back.

    Shen slumped to the floor. Jonny spun and found a teenage boy in a red and gold uniform standing in the doorway, his fists balled and his legs wide in a deep fighting stance.

    ¡°You killed the grandmaster!¡±

    The wounded man groaned.

    ¡°He¡¯s still alive, boy. If you run for a healer he might be alive when you get back. Fight me and even if you win he¡¯ll still die. Choose.¡±

    Every muscle in the boy¡¯s body tensed then he turned and ran. Jonny sighed. He really hadn¡¯t wanted to fight another Iron Path warrior. Especially a young one that actually wanted to kill him.

    He ran over to his rope, coiled it up, and ran for the steps.

    As he passed, Fo Shen grabbed his pant leg. Jonny stopped and looked down.

    ¡°Thank you for sparing the boy.¡±

    Jonny shook his head and pulled his pant leg free. He looked at his sword then at the old man. Jonny cleaned the blade on his tabard and sheathed it. Whether Shen lived or died Jonny would be long gone. He¡¯d let fate decide.

 4.16

    Alden and Imogen flew low above the city, getting a firsthand look at the destruction. This was what they¡¯d been reduced to, flying around and looking. They had no idea where to go or who to talk to. Every lead they¡¯d had was either dead or useless. As far as they were concerned Jonny Linn might as well be a ghost.

    ¡°We should help with the cleanup,¡± Alden said. ¡°We¡¯d have as good a chance of finding him as we do just randomly searching.¡±

    ¡°Do as you wish. I mean to keep looking.¡±

    Alden shook his head. Imogen was taking Jonny¡¯s escape personally. He almost felt bad for the former guard. If she ever got a hold of him it wouldn¡¯t be pretty.

    ¡°Help! Please!¡±

    Alden didn¡¯t know what it was about the desperate cry that made it stand out from every other call he¡¯d heard in the past several hours, but whatever it was he focused on a figure in red waving his arms. It looked like a teenager and he was staring up at the two sorcerers.

    Alden started down.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Imogen asked.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.¡°That boy¡¯s signaling us. I¡¯m going to check it out.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a waste of time.¡±

    ¡°Maybe, but flying back and forth isn¡¯t doing us much good. A two-minute conversation isn¡¯t going to make or break us.¡±

    ¡°It might,¡± Imogen said, her voice grim.

    Alden landed beside the boy and, despite her complaining, Imogen joined him.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, son?¡± Alden asked.

    ¡°The grandmaster. He stabbed the grandmaster. It¡¯s all my fault. If I hadn¡¯t distracted him¡­¡±

    ¡°Slow down. Take a breath. Who stabbed who where?¡±

    ¡°The man was dressed like a guard. He stabbed the grandmaster in our dojo. I¡¯m a student of the Iron Path. Please, the grandmaster is still alive. You have to help me.¡±

    Imogen and Alden looked at each other for a moment. She described Jonny to the boy. ¡°Was that him?¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. Will you come?¡±

    ¡°Lead the way,¡± Alden said.

    The Iron Path dojo was only a three-minute run away. They rounded a corner in time to see someone leap from the roof over to the wall. Imogen raced toward him. Alden watched her a moment then looked to the boy, his face a mask of concern. Imogen could handle a simple guardsman on her own.

    ¡°Where¡¯s your master?¡±

    The boy slumped with relief. He grabbed Alden¡¯s wrist and practically dragged him through the doors into the dojo. An old man lay on the floor twenty feet inside, a pool of blood quickly spreading around him. Alden conjured more light and ran over to him.

    The grandmaster¡¯s breathing was shallow and his hands were clenched around his stomach. Alden gently moved his hands aside to expose the wound. He winced. Jonny had run him clean through.

    A stream of healing energy leapt from Alden¡¯s hands. It would take a while, but he could fix everything. Whether the grandmaster had the strength to recover after the healing was out of Alden¡¯s control.

 4.17

    Jonny hurled the coil of rope across the gap between the dojo roof and wall. The coil slid across the walkway and stopped against a crenellation. Now if he could make the jump as easily he¡¯d be all set. He unbuckled his mail and shrugged out of it. Every extra pound might be the difference between making it and falling to a broken leg.

    He backed up to the far edge of the roof, took a steadying breath, and sprinted toward the wall. He reached the edge of the roof and leapt. His legs flailed as he sailed across the gap, like he was swimming through the air. His midsection slammed into the walkway on the top of the wall, driving the air out of his lungs. His fingers scrambled and his boots skidded off the wall.

    Somehow, he managed to drag himself up over on to the walkway. He lay there for a second panting and counting his blessings.

    ¡°Jonathan Linn!¡±

    What now? He turned his head to see a furiously scowling blond sorcerer flying toward him. Under any other circumstances the sight of a woman that beautiful moving in his direction would have filled Jonny with joy. Now all he could do was curse his bad luck.

    He scrambled to his feet. A moment later golden bands formed around his legs and chest, pinning him in place. Jonny struggled, but he had more hope of smashing down the wall with his head than he had of escaping the sorcerer¡¯s binding.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    She landed beside him, no less terrifying and gorgeous up close than she had been at a distance. Maybe whatever was in the satchel could help. Jonny struggled to reach it, wrenching his torso and forearms around.

    ¡°Don¡¯t waste your time,¡± the sorcerer said. ¡°There¡¯s no way you can break those bands. You¡¯re coming with me and before I¡¯m finished you¡¯ll tell me everything you know about Connor Blackman and his plans.¡±

    Now Jonny knew he was in trouble. Who the hell was Connor Blackman? No way the red tabards would believe he didn¡¯t know anything. The tips of his fingers brushed the flap of the satchel. Just a little more.

    He gave a mighty tug and screamed in pain when his shoulder dislocated. His hand slipped into the satchel. Smooth, cold metal greeted his fingers. A moment later pain unlike anything he¡¯d ever felt coursed up his arm and across his chest. It felt like the life was being ripped out of him.

    The bands vanished freeing his arms and legs.

    ¡°No!¡± The woman screamed and sent blasts of golden light at him.

    They vanished just like the bands. Jonny smiled through the pain. Whatever he had kept the sorcerer¡¯s power from reaching him. He dug the cylindrical object out¡ªit looked like an urn¡ªand held it toward her. Black lightning streaked out.

    She moaned and collapsed.

    Jonny wasn¡¯t far behind, only sheer willpower kept him on his feet. He slammed the urn back into the satchel and tore his fingers free. The pain vanished along with the crackling lightning. He didn¡¯t have long. Every sorcerer in the city probably sensed that outburst.

    He tied the rope around one of the crenellations and threw it over the wall. He grabbed it and slid down, his already raw hands burning. He hit the ground and ran for the tree line. If he got out of sight before they spotted him he could disappear, find his contact, and trade the urn for a new start. Somewhere far away from the capital.

 4.18

    Alden knelt beside the grandmaster, sealing his wounds and reconnecting severed intestines. The wound looked far worse than it was. Someone not trained in healing would have feared the patient had no chance, but he knew better. No major arteries had been hit so he had plenty of time to repair the damage. After a minute or two he had the majority of his patient¡¯s wounds sealed.

    A deep, masculine scream pierced the air. Sounded like Imogen had gotten her man. He wasn¡¯t worried about his partner killing their prisoner. Despite her constant anger, Imogen was a professional. While he wouldn¡¯t put it past her to start the questioning a little early, she wouldn¡¯t do him any permanent harm.

    Hopefully.

    He¡¯d barely returned his attention to his patient when another scream echoed through the dojo, this one decidedly feminine in character. How in heaven¡¯s name had a nobody like Jonny Linn gotten the drop on Imogen?

    Alden looked from his still-bleeding patient to where he¡¯d heard Imogen¡¯s scream. Imogen needed him, but he couldn¡¯t just leave a bleeding man.

    He felt it then. The corrupt power of the urn. Somehow Jonny had activated it and used it on Imogen. How had he managed it? The little research they¡¯d done suggested it required a sorcerer to activate the urn. That was why they hadn¡¯t been concerned about Carmen using it.

    Damn it! What should he do?

    Alden checked the grandmaster¡¯s wounds again and found most of them closed. The main gash in his abdomen still gaped open, but the bleeding had slowed. Some time during his treatment the old man had lost consciousness.

    He turned to the boy. ¡°Stay with him. Keep pressure on the wound. I have to check on my partner, but I¡¯ll be back.¡±

    The boy stared at him with wide eyes. Alden put him out of his mind, rushed out of the dojo, and flew up on the wall where he¡¯d seen Jonny jump the gap. Imogen was lying unconscious on the walkway. There was no blood at least. She didn¡¯t have so much as a bruise.

    Alden knelt beside her. Imogen¡¯s soul force was still flowing, but her core had been drained. He checked her pulse to confirm what his sorcerous vision was telling him. He found it strong and steady.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    He let out the breath he¡¯d been holding. She¡¯d be okay. He couldn¡¯t guess how long she¡¯d be out, but he felt confident she would eventually wake up.

    A rope was tied to the wall, no doubt how their prey had escaped. Alden looked out across the open ground. A figure was running east toward the tree line. That had to be Jonny Linn.

    Alden ground his teeth. Everything in him screamed that he should pursue the man, but he couldn¡¯t leave Imogen and the grandmaster. Not to mention it would be the height of stupidity to chase after Jonny before he knew how to counteract the effects of the urn. For now he had no choice but to let the bastard escape.

    But only for now. Sooner or later they¡¯d catch him. He only hoped it was before Jonny delivered the urn to Connor Blackman.

    Alden conjured a disk under his partner and carried her back to the dojo. He set Imogen on the floor well away from the pool of blood. There was nothing he could do for her right now so he returned to his original patient.

    ¡°Is your friend okay?¡± the boy asked.

    ¡°She will be.¡± Hopefully. ¡°Let¡¯s see about getting your master back on his feet.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The boy knelt and touched his head to the floor. ¡°I don¡¯t know how we can thank you for saving the grandmaster.¡±

    Alden patted his back. ¡°No thanks are necessary. Looking after the peoples¡¯ wellbeing is our job. I only wish I¡¯d gotten here soon enough to keep him from getting hurt in the first place.¡±

    An hour later he had the grandmaster sealed up, and all his injuries fused back together. He¡¯d be sore for a few days and have a nasty scar, but should make a full recovery. For the last five minutes of his healing Imogen had been groaning and thrashing around on the floor. Her core was almost full and he hoped she¡¯d wake up soon.

    His young friend had run off a minute ago and just when Alden was starting to wonder where he¡¯d gone, the boy emerged from a side door carrying a shallow basin of water. He set it beside Alden who gratefully began washing the blood from his hands. One of the advantages of a red tabard was the blood hardly showed.

    He¡¯d just finished drying his hands when Imogen groaned even louder and sat up. Her head snapped toward Alden. ¡°He escaped!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so. I caught a glimpse of him entering the forest, but lost track of him after that.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t go after him?¡± Imogen tried to climb to her feet and failed.

    ¡°Considering what happened to you and the fact that I had a dying man to heal, I decided pursuit would be too risky. When you¡¯ve recovered and we figure out how to deal with the urn, we can resume the hunt.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± She made it to her knees this time before slumping back to the floor.

    ¡°Clearly. What do you think about resting for another hour or two then going to talk to the archmage?¡±

    She sighed. ¡°We don¡¯t have much choice, but she¡¯s not going to be very happy.¡±

 4.19

    Eight hours of sleep did Damien a world of good. Twelve would have been better, but he wasn¡¯t going to complain. They ate leftover stew and set out again. Leah stepped between two oaks so big he doubted all of them together could wrap their arms around one. Damien and Jen followed her into a twilight realm of towering oaks and maples, their tangled branches blocking most of the sun. In another month when the leaves came out the forest would feel like it was constantly night. Though the darkness was completely natural and he sensed no corruption, Damien found the atmosphere set him on edge.

    The first two hours went easy, the forest floor remained clear of brush and they only had to watch for the thick, snaking roots of the trees. It would have been much easier to simply fly over them, but Damien chose to honor Leah¡¯s request and walk like a normal person.

    Gradually the trees became shorter and bushier, the path cluttered and choked with scrubby new growth. Damien couldn¡¯t figure out why the trees would be younger in this part of the forest than they were at the edge.

    After thrashing through a patch of chokecherries he asked, ¡°What happened here? I would have thought the trees would have gotten bigger the deeper in we went.¡±

    Leah stopped and turned back. ¡°Not necessarily bigger, but the same size certainly. There was a fire thirty years ago during a bad drought. All the big trees died, many have crashed to the ground, and many more will fall in the years to come. This new growth, while less pleasant to walk through, makes wonderful forage for many animals.¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have at least cut a path through it to your grove?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°That would make it rather obvious where we live. We don¡¯t generally encourage visitors, and those chosen to walk the Green Path will find their way to us regardless. Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s only another three miles. We¡¯re making much better time than I expected.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t think a couple city kids could keep up?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°No, you and your sister have been a nice surprise. Though the way you thrash through the woods you certainly won¡¯t be sneaking up on anyone.¡±

    Leah continued on and Damien shared a look with Jen.

    Jen shrugged. ¡°Can¡¯t fault her honesty.¡±

    Damien grunted and started walking. Noon came along with a break for jerky and water from a stream. Two hours after noon Leah stopped in front of an eight-foot-tall briar wall. Some of the vines had thorns an inch long. No way was he going through that without using a little sorcery.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Want me to clear a path?¡± he asked.

    ¡°No need.¡± Leah raised her hands and the green glow appeared again. The brambles parted, opening a path for them. ¡°We¡¯ve arrived.¡±

    They walked down the vine tunnel which closed behind them. Damien sensed many soul forces ahead, none of them strong. That fit with what Leah had told them in the capital. At the end of the thorn tunnel a simple village of single room huts greeted them. There was no smithy or gardens or anything that looked unnatural. Even the huts resembled heaps of sticks stacked up and tied together with vines. Over the whole thing spread the crown of the biggest oak Damien had ever seen. Some of the branches were as big around as the trees they slept under last night.

    A few people were walking around the village, mostly older people and very young children. They dressed like Leah, in browns and greens. The cloth looked rough and homespun. They had no weapons other than an occasional belt knife.

    Everyone stared as they walked amongst the huts. Several people called Leah by name and waved. She had a smile for everyone. A little girl ran up with a reed basket filled with roots. Leah took one and bit the end off.

    ¡°Thank you, little one.¡±

    The girl held the basket out to Damien and Jen. Not wanting to be rude, Damien reached for the mystery food, scanning it for poison as he did. He detected nothing unnatural or toxic so he helped himself to a small, wrinkled specimen. He bit into it and found the inside juicy and slightly sweet. From the dark, woody exterior he wouldn¡¯t have imagined it would taste so good.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Jen finished her snack and nodded thanks as well. The girl ran off to rejoin an old couple Damien guessed were her grandparents.

    ¡°What was that?¡± Damien asked. ¡°I¡¯ve never had anything like it.¡±

    ¡°We call it welcome root.¡± Leah resumed walking. ¡°Whenever someone comes back from a long journey one of the children will offer them a taste of home. It¡¯s an old tradition. The wise one lives in the sacred temple. We¡¯re almost there.¡±

    Leah led them to the massive tree in the center of the village. At its base was an opening with stone stairs leading down into the earth. It shouldn¡¯t have surprised Damien that a group that worshipped earth energy should have an underground temple, but that didn¡¯t make him any happier about going down those steps. With all the earthquakes they¡¯d been having it would be a good place to get buried alive.

    If Leah felt any trepidation she gave no indication. ¡°Come on. The wise one is waiting.¡±

    Damien gritted his teeth and followed her down the stairs. At the bottom, stone gave way to dirt. A green glow suffused the tunnel providing light and casting everything in shades of jade. The tunnel continued to angle down, deeper into the earth.

    Jen put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t like this, little brother.¡±

    ¡°Me neither, but we¡¯ve come this far. We can¡¯t quit now.¡±

    Leah looked back at them from a little ways down the tunnel. ¡°Please hurry. He¡¯s anxious to meet you.¡±

    ¡°How do you know that?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°He¡¯s all around us, at one with the earth force. The whole temple is an extension of his body.¡±

    Damien shook his head. If she was trying to set them at ease, Leah was making a poor job of it.

 4.20

    Roots, some as fine as hair and others as big around as Damien¡¯s forefinger, pierced an old man through the back, sides, and legs and held him against the wall, his feet sunk into the earth up to his ankles. His beard looked more like moss growing off a tree than hair. Most disconcerting were the wise one¡¯s glowing green eyes. Despite the apparent wounds he showed no discomfort. Damien forced himself not to stare.

    The roots grew out of the wall in a round chamber Damien guessed sat at the center of the complex directly under the great oak. A damp, earthy scent¡ªlike after a rain storm when worms covered the cobblestone streets¡ªfilled the air. The whole place felt ancient, far older than anywhere Damien had ever visited.

    Leah fell to her knees on the dirt floor. ¡°I have brought help, Wise One.¡±

    ¡°Well done, Leah.¡± The emerald gaze turned to take in Damien and Jen. ¡°Thank you for coming to our aid. In all our years of walking the Green Path no druid has ever committed such a crime. There can be no greater betrayal than to interfere with the earth force¡¯s natural course.¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t do the capital any good either.¡± Damien did his best to keep his expression neutral. Considering he was talking to a man growing out of a wall he thought he did okay. ¡°Do you have any idea who¡¯s behind it?¡±

    The wise one spread his hands. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t felt the ley line shift I wouldn¡¯t have believed one of us capable of something like this, and if one of us could commit such a crime then any of us could. There are only three I trust completely: myself; my granddaughter, Leah; and my second, Eleck. Everyone else I must remain suspicious of until they are proven loyal.¡±

    ¡°So how many people are we talking about?¡± Jen asked.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.¡°The whole community is three hundred and twenty-seven people, but only forty have the ability to interact with the earth force to a sufficient degree that they could be a part of moving the ley line.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not so bad,¡± Damien said. ¡°We can start interviews today and be finished in another day or two. Anyone that refuses to talk to us you can assume is one of the bad guys.¡±

    Damien sensed the newcomer a moment before he entered the chamber. ¡°Forgive me, Wise One. I came as soon as word of the outsiders¡¯ arrival reached me.¡±

    ¡°Do not be concerned, Eleck. We¡¯ve only just begun our discussion.¡±

    Eleck held out a gloved hand to Damien. ¡°It¡¯s good of you to come. This matter has left everyone most distressed.¡±

    Damien shook his hand. Eleck had a firm grip for a man that appeared well into his fifties. He wore his long, dark hair tied back in a tail, lines of gray shot through it. Fine wrinkles from a life in the sun surrounded brown eyes. Eleck wore the same brown and green outfit as everyone else in the place.

    He shook Jen¡¯s hand and eyed the hilt of her sword. ¡°I hope you won¡¯t have need of that.¡±

    ¡°Likewise, but in my experience it¡¯s better to have it and not need it than the other way around.¡±

    ¡°If you say so. We are not warriors here.¡±

    Leah groaned and fell on her face.

    Damien took a step toward her.

    ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± the wise one said. ¡°She¡¯s used up the last of her strength and must rest. Did she explain it to you?¡±

    ¡°The little death?¡± Damien asked.

    The wise one nodded. Beside him a nest of roots grew out of the floor. ¡°Put her here, Eleck.¡±

    Eleck scooped Leah up, carried her over to the bed of roots, and set her inside. The roots closed around her like tentacles, a green glow suffusing the whole thing.

    ¡°It might be best to wait until she recovers to begin your investigation,¡± the wise one said.

    Damien grimaced. Every moment they waited gave their enemies more time to cause trouble.

    ¡°Can¡¯t Eleck assist us?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m at your disposal, of course,¡± Eleck said.

    ¡°No, you have your own tasks and if you neglect them someone will certainly notice. Best to wait. I will speed her recovery so you can begin tomorrow.¡±

    Damien had been around enough leaders to know a final verdict when he heard it. He bowed to the wise one. ¡°As you wish, sir.¡±

    ¡°Eleck, show them to the guest quarters.¡±

 4.21

    Karrie sat beside her father on a little padded stool in the throne room and listened as guard after guard came in, reported on the rescue effort, and went. It seemed almost nonstop, one tale of catastrophe after another. To make matters worse Daddy had sent Damien and his sister to hunt down whoever caused the quake. As much as Karrie wanted to finish their conversation of two nights past even she recognized preventing another quake was the priority.

    Off to one side the archmage and a pair of sorcerers had their heads together, deep in conversation. After two days of going nonstop, even the invincible Lidia Thorn looked worn out. How was Damien holding up? Karrie knew she shouldn¡¯t worry. Damien was young and strong. If anyone could figure out what had happened he and Jen could.

    Two of the door guards hustled in and announced, ¡°Duke Iceborn and his heir, Sigurd.¡±

    What in the world were Sig and his father doing here? Daddy waved the guard he was speaking to away just as the duke and Sig entered. Both men wore blue and white robes trimmed with arctic fox fur. The hilt of a sword jutted up over Sig¡¯s shoulder.

    Karrie had heard the story of his duel with Damien. How did he dare wear a sword after that? Maybe he counted on his rank and size to protect him.

    The duke swept through the room with Sig at his heels. It was easy to understand where Sig inherited his size; the duke stood well over six and a half feet tall. His thick, gray-streaked beard hung down to the middle of his chest. The duke paused before the throne and bowed to the king. Sig emulated his father, but by his sour expression he begrudged the effort.

    Her father stood up and he and the duke shook hands. ¡°So good to see you again, my king.¡±

    ¡°Rasmus, Sigurd. Nice of you to visit, though I wish the situation was better.¡± Her father sat back down. ¡°We could have offered you a proper welcome.¡±

    The duke waved off his apology. ¡°If there¡¯s one thing we in the north understand, it¡¯s that men are helpless before the wrath of nature.¡±

    ¡°What brings you to the capital?¡± the king asked.

    ¡°The weather finally cleared enough to make travel reasonable and things have calmed sufficiently that I deemed it safe to travel. We missed the ceremony honoring the young man that drove off the dragon and I wanted to thank him in person for what he did for my duchy.¡±

    As his father spoke Sig¡¯s face twisted into ever uglier expressions. He clearly hadn¡¯t come to thank Damien. For just a moment Karrie was glad Damien was out of the city. If he were here she suspected things with Sig could get very nasty very quickly.

    ¡°Unfortunately Damien is out on a mission. He just left yesterday morning.¡± Her father shrugged. ¡°Bad timing.¡±

    Rasmus smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll be in the city for a week or two, discussing business with some southern merchants. Perhaps he¡¯ll return before I leave.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± the king said. ¡°Where are you staying?¡±

    ¡°We usually stay at the Golden Dancer, but they¡¯re still cleaning up. The owner says it will be at least two days before we can move in.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯ll have to stay in the castle until then. We suffered some minor damage, but the sorcerers have repaired it already. Dale.¡±

    The castle seneschal shuffled over. ¡°Majesty?¡±

    ¡°We have guest rooms for the duke and his son, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Majesty. The servants have been concentrating on cleaning up the occupied rooms, but we can have them ready in an hour or two.¡±

    ¡°Perfect. Karrie, be a dear and escort Rasmus and Sigurd up to our rooms until Dale has the guest chambers ready. You and your mother can keep them entertained for a couple hours, right?¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Karrie would have preferred to swim in a pig trough than spend two hours entertaining Sig. She smiled and hopped to her feet. ¡°Of course. I¡¯m sure Mom will be thrilled to have guests.¡±

    He had the good grace to wince at that. They both knew Mom hated having nobles staying in the castle. Their presence disrupted the servants¡¯ routines and made everything harder. It was one reason they so seldom had formal gatherings.

    ¡°Your Grace, Sig, please follow me.¡±

    She led the two noblemen out of the throne room and up the back stairs to the royal quarters. She pushed the door open and found her mother sitting at the dinner table sipping a glass of wine. Mom had on her favorite white dress, devoid of lace or decoration. She had a small piece of embroidery with her and was studying the stitching in search of mistakes. John sprawled half-asleep on the couch.

    Karrie almost sighed in relief. John¡¯s presence would make the next two hours much more bearable. ¡°Hi, Mom. We have guests.¡±

    The queen looked up from her stitching, a minute frown creasing her lips. ¡°Rasmus, Sig, this is a surprise.¡±

    ¡°Audra, terribly sorry to impose.¡± The duke swept a deep bow. ¡°You¡¯re looking as beautiful as ever.¡±

    Her mother laughed. ¡°And you¡¯re as bad a liar as ever. Would you like some wine?¡±

    Mom slipped into full hostess mode. She¡¯d trade witless prattle with the duke all the while trying to pry out of him his true purpose for visiting. Mom was brilliant at that sort of thing and Karrie knew she¡¯d have to learn how to do it herself before long.

    The duke joined her mother at the dining room table and Karrie went to sit beside John on the couch. Sig sat in the chair across from them.

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t expected to find you here, John,¡± Karrie said. ¡°I figured you¡¯d be out healing the injured.¡±

    He groaned. ¡°I just spent the last twelve hours fusing more broken bones than I can count. I¡¯ve sealed cuts and plucked wood and stone from flesh. I¡¯m so tired I can hardly see straight, much less set a bone. The queen was kind enough to offer me a place to rest while the servants finish putting my room back together.¡±

    Karrie patted his knee. ¡°Sounds tough.¡±

    ¡°I think the quake produced more wounded than the war, though thankfully fewer deaths. You know, Damien¡¯s friend Salem has turned out to be a brilliant healer. We might have lost many more people if she hadn¡¯t been here. Anyway I just need to catch a few hours¡¯ rest and I¡¯ll head back out.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go rest somewhere else so Karrie and I can talk in private,¡± Sig said.

    Karrie didn¡¯t like the way Sig was staring at her with his bright blue eyes. The last thing she wanted was for John to leave her alone with him. ¡°We don¡¯t want to chase John off. He was here first after all. Whatever you have to say I¡¯m sure we can count on his discretion.¡± She looked at John and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Right?¡±

    John must have caught the desperation in her look because he sat up straight and nodded. ¡°Absolutely, I¡¯m the soul of discretion.¡±

    Karrie offered a grateful smile. ¡°So what¡¯s on your mind?¡±

    Sig shot John a venom-filled look then turned his hot gaze on Karrie. ¡°I think we should wed. I¡¯m the strongest of the four dukes¡¯ heirs. It only makes sense that I be the next king. With me on the throne you¡¯ll be free to raise our children and do whatever else it is queens do. We can make the announcement tomorrow.¡±

    Karrie was so stunned for a moment she couldn¡¯t speak. This arrogant prick thought he could march into her home and announce that she was going to marry him just like that. A moment later the irony that she¡¯d done essentially the same thing to Damien last winter struck her. Was this the same anger he¡¯d felt at her presumption? For the first time the true weight of what she¡¯d asked of him settled over her.

    How had she presumed to command his heart? Did the fact that she loved Damien and Sig only wanted to use her make her actions any better? Karrie liked to think it did. She also hoped Damien would forgive her for what she was about to do.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already promised myself to another.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± Sig¡¯s face turned red and the muscle at his jaw bunched. ¡°I¡¯ll kill him and we can move on from there.¡±

    ¡°Damien. We were going to announce it when he returned from his mission.¡±

    Beside her John turned the start of a laugh into a cough.

    Sig¡¯s face grew even redder and Karrie half hoped he¡¯d collapse on the spot. ¡°Damien. So he stands against me once more. When he gets back I will challenge him to a duel to the death. You¡¯ll see which of us is the strongest and most worthy to be king.¡±

    ¡°Good idea,¡± John said. ¡°That worked out so well for you last time.¡±

    Sig growled like an angry dog. ¡°This time will be different. We¡¯ll have a true sorcerers¡¯ duel and I will defeat him.¡±

    John shook his head. ¡°You and three friends together couldn¡¯t beat Damien in a sorcerers¡¯ duel.¡±

    Sig leapt to his feet. ¡°I will beat him!¡±

    He stalked to the door and slammed it behind him.

    Her mother and the duke looked over at her. Karrie shrugged as if to say she had no idea what had happened. How did they not hear Sig shouting? Must have been some sorcery trick.

    ¡°So does Damien know you two are engaged?¡± John asked.

    ¡°Not exactly.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be thrilled when Sig tells him then challenges him to a duel.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± Karrie held her head in her hands. What had she done?

 4.22

    Damien and Jen followed Eleck through dirt tunnels, the roots of trees growing above breaking through here and there. Their steps made no sound on the soft floor. The silence was jarring after the constant clomping of hard soles on stone back home.

    Halfway up the wall a shrew stuck its head out, peered at them, and fled back into its little tunnel. What other vermin would pay them a visit in the night? Despite the crude surroundings there was no standing water, though a thick, loamy smell filled the air. Living like a mole wouldn¡¯t have been Damien¡¯s first choice, but the underground temple complex was nicer than it had any right to be.

    They met no others on their short walk. There should have been other druids, temple servants, someone just walking around.

    ¡°Where is everyone?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°The wise one ordered the temple cleared, he said in preparation for a festival.¡± Eleck glanced back at Damien. ¡°In reality he wanted as few people as possible to know you¡¯d arrived. His hope is that whoever¡¯s responsible for moving the ley line won¡¯t realize who you are before you find out who they are.¡±

    ¡°All the people we passed in the village know we¡¯re here.¡± Jen said. ¡°Some of them will almost certainly tell the ones we¡¯re looking for about it.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll say two new acolytes arrived. All new arrivals are brought first to the temple, nothing strange in that. Only the five of us know your true purpose here. We hope to keep it that way as long as possible. Here we are.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.They stopped in front of a curtained-off opening. Eleck pulled the green cloth aside revealing a dirt cave with two beds that appeared to have grown out of the floor. Moss was placed on top for bedding. Damien had thought his room lacked decorations. This place even made the room he shared with Eli look like a palace.

    ¡°I¡¯ll bring your evening meal shortly,¡± Eleck said. ¡°Please remain in your room. The fewer people that see you the better.¡±

    ¡°I thought the temple was empty,¡± Jen said.

    ¡°It is, but why take chances? Good afternoon.¡± Eleck left them to explore their luxurious accommodations.

    They went in and Damien slid the curtain shut, adding a soul force barrier for good measure. Next he reinforced the walls and floor with another barrier. His shoes made a satisfying clunk when he stepped on it. They were essentially surrounded by a soul force box.

    Jen tossed her pack beside the right-hand bed and looked around at the glowing walls. ¡°Overkill?¡±

    Damien made the walls invisible. ¡°You want to be asleep in a dirt cave if a quake hits tonight?¡±

    ¡°Huh. Good point. I also don¡¯t want any mice burrowing in for a visit. What did you think of the wise one?¡±

    Damien shook his head. ¡°I never thought to see a man growing out of a wall. I¡¯ve seen some weird stuff the past year, but that¡¯s near the top of my list. His peculiar circumstances aside, the wise one¡¯s concern seemed genuine.¡±

    Jen nodded. ¡°That¡¯s the impression I got too. How do you want to handle the questioning?¡±

    Damien dropped his rucksack and sat on the remarkably comfortable moss mattress across from his sister. ¡°I figured we¡¯d bring them in one at a time, I¡¯ll fix it so they can¡¯t lie, and ask if they had any part in moving the ley line. Simple yes or no question. I learned the hard way if you make it too complicated a clever person can talk their way around an actual lie.¡±

    ¡°Works for me. We should be able to question everyone in a day. Anyone that tries to lie or doesn¡¯t show up we can assume is part of the problem.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. That reminds me.¡± Damien dug through his stuff and pulled out a pencil and paper. ¡°I need to let the archmage know we arrived safe and plan to begin our investigation soon.¡±

 4.23

    Damien lay on his bed of moss, one arm over his eyes, trying to fall asleep. He could hardly keep them open earlier and now he couldn¡¯t relax. He sighed in the dark. Jen¡¯s soft snoring was the only sign he wasn¡¯t alone in the world. She didn¡¯t seem to think it would be a big thing, finding whoever caused the quake. He hoped she was right, but the more he thought about it the more it seemed maybe he and Jen weren¡¯t the best people for this job. It might have been better to send someone with more experience questioning people, someone like Alden or Imogen.

    Now if they already knew who was responsible he and his sister would deal with them in as efficient a matter as you could hope for. He sighed again. They were here now so they¡¯d just have to make the best of it. At least the food had been edible. Eleck had brought them bowls of greens, some sliced-up crunchy white things, and a flat piece of bread covered in spices that burned the back of his throat. Not so much as a hint of poison.

    After he left Jen had dug some of her jerky out and added thin slices to the salad. Jen didn¡¯t consider it a meal unless meat was involved. Damien either for that matter. Now, belly full, in his borrowed bed, Damien tried again to sleep.

    A noise out in the hall woke him from a light doze. For hell¡¯s sake, what was it? He¡¯d finally fallen asleep and now it sounded like a bellows wheezing outside. A hint of corruption twisted his stomach. It wasn¡¯t strong enough to be a demon. He frowned and formed a viewing rectangle. Damien connected it to the barrier and shaped an eye.

    Out in the tunnel five black-scaled reptilian things slouched a short ways away. Eleck stood with them. He¡¯d removed his gloves and underneath he wore four rings, two on each hand. On his middle fingers were black rings that crackled with corruption. Those had to be what he sensed. His barrier must be blocking the worst of the demonic energy.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.The other two rings weren¡¯t demonic, at least not as far as Damien could tell. The one on Eleck¡¯s right index finger was silver, or maybe platinum, and studded all the way around with chips of some black stone. The final ring was gold and studded with red stones.

    Damien conjured a hand and shook Jen awake. She sat up and looked over at him. Damien held a finger to his lips and motioned her over. Soul force flowed to Jen¡¯s head as she washed away the effects of her short nap. She slipped out of bed and joined Damien. He held out the viewer so she could see.

    ¡°Eleck?¡± she asked.

    Damien¡¯s thought exactly. It looked like they weren¡¯t going to have any trouble figuring out who was behind the quake after all. Eight more monsters came down the hall, red-scaled creatures similar to the black ones, but skinnier. Eleck¡¯s lips moved, but Damien couldn¡¯t hear what he was saying.

    ¡°The black ones are soul force eaters,¡± Jen whispered in his ear. ¡°The red ones breathe fire. We fought them with Master Shen last month while you were at sea. I never imagined this was where they came from.¡±

    Jen crossed the room, pulled on her boots, and buckled on her sword. Damien followed her example. He was just tightening the last strap on his sword harness when his barrier vanished. The curtain burst into flame an instant before the black-scales charged through the doorway. Jen met them at warlord speed and two instantly fell, their heads chopped off.

    Damien drew his sword and charged a third monster halfway across the room. The keen steel of his blade passed through its shoulder, but missed anything vital. He leapt back ahead of snapping jaws.

    One of the red-scales appeared in the doorway. It faced Jen, who was busy with the other two soul force eaters. Flames dripped from its jaws.

    Damien lunged at his opponent, piercing it through the throat. The monster went down in a heap.

    The red-scale threw its head back. As it started forward Damien conjured a bubble around its head. Flames blasted out, struck the barrier, and rebounded in the beast¡¯s face. The red-scale collapsed, its face a charred ruin.

    Jen appeared beside him. ¡°You okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, no problem. It was nice to fight with a sword again. Come on, let¡¯s check on Leah and the wise one.¡±

 4.24

    Jen poked her head out in the tunnel. No sign of Eleck or the other red-scales. She¡¯d feared Damien would have trouble with the soul force eaters, but it looked like he remembered his lessons. She should have known better. Maybe some sorcerers didn¡¯t know how to fight, but her brother was a St. Cloud. And if they knew one thing, it was how to swing a sword.

    ¡°All clear. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Jen led the way back to the central chamber. Since there was no one in the temple besides the two of them, Leah, Eleck, and the wise one she felt comfortable assuming anyone they met would be an enemy.

    She rounded a corner and leapt back ahead of a blast of flame. She¡¯d just caught a glimpse of four red-scales guarding the tunnel.

    Damien sidled up beside her. ¡°Any soul force eaters?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see any.¡±

    ¡°Let me go first.¡± Damien stepped around the corner and flames washed over him. Her breath caught in her throat. When the flames subsided he stood unharmed amidst dying embers. ¡°Clear.¡±

    Jen rounded the corner. Scaled chunks of meat filled the tunnel. She ran past them, Damien hot on her heels. He might not be subtle, but her brother got the job done.

    Outside the wise one¡¯s chamber waited two more red-scales. Golden beams streaked ahead of her, disintegrating them above the waist. Definitely not subtle.

    She burst into the chamber. The wise one lay on the floor, all the roots that had held him severed. Eleck spun to face them, halfway between the wise one and Leah¡¯s bed.

    He raised his hands and a stream of black flames shot at her. She didn¡¯t even have time to flinch. The fire blazed all around her, but didn¡¯t touch her. When they ended Eleck was gone, a fresh hole in the wall where he¡¯d blasted his way out.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Damien asked.

    She nodded. ¡°I assume thanks to your shield?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to get your face burned off if we ran into more of those red-scales. It never crossed my mind that Eleck could use hellfire. Good thing I put plenty of soul force into the barrier.¡±

    ¡°I second that. You check the old man, I¡¯ll get Leah.¡±

    Jen crossed the chamber and looked down into the wooden bed. Leah was on her back, eyes closed, sleeping just as if she had no idea a lunatic was about to kill her a minute ago.

    Jen reached in and shook her. Leah didn¡¯t so much as shift her position. Must be some kind of sorcery. She should have had Damien check the woman and dealt with the wise one herself.

    ¡°I can¡¯t wake her up.¡±

    Damien picked up the old druid and carried him over to the bed. He lifted a trembling, wrinkled hand and placed it on the roots. They slid back into the ground leaving Leah in the dirt. Leah groaned and her eyelids fluttered.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to carry her.¡± Jen could barely hear the wise one¡¯s voice.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get them both.¡± Damien conjured a box around Leah and laid the wise one in beside her.

    ¡°What now?¡± Jen asked. ¡°We can¡¯t stay here.¡±

    The wise one pulled himself up the side of Damien¡¯s construct. ¡°A hidden grove. A sanctuary for the wise one. No one else knows about it.¡±

    That sounded promising. ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°Out the door and turn right. Go straight until you hit a dead end.¡± The wise one fell back gasping for breath.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take point,¡± Jen said. ¡°You keep them safe.¡±

    Damien gave her a thumbs up and they set out. The tunnel immediately outside the central chamber was empty. Jen listened with her enhanced hearing, but heard nothing beyond their heartbeats. No danger threatened for the moment.

    She jogged down the hall, every sense straining to detect Eleck or his monsters. Damien guided his construct out next then brought up the rear. The tunnel seemed to stretch on and on. The further they went the dimmer the green glow became. If it grew much worse they¡¯d be running in the dark.

    Golden lights sprang up on either side of them. She looked back and Damien waved. Having a sorcerer along on a mission really made life easier.

    A deep, snarling hiss filled the air behind them. Jen spun. Four black-scales appeared at the corner of the nearest intersection. They must have sensed Damien¡¯s lights.

    Her brother drew his sword. Good as he was Damien couldn¡¯t defeat four of the reptilian monsters without sorcery.

    She slipped back beside him. ¡°Keep going. I¡¯ll deal with these four and catch up.¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°Be careful. I¡¯ll take away your shield so they can¡¯t drain it.¡±

    A faint shimmer filled the air and then he was gone down the tunnel. Jen drew power from her core, raised her sword and attacked. Her blade took one¡¯s arm off at the elbow and continued on to take another at the knee. She spun away from a third, its claws missing her back by inches.

    Jen had to watch herself. Unlike some enemies, she couldn¡¯t count on her iron skin to protect her from the soul force eaters.

    She thrust her sword through the stomach of one of the uninjured monsters and ripped it sideways. Blood and bile soaked the dirt floor.

    Jen lunged for the last one and stumbled. The monster whose knee she gashed had its claws around her ankle. She spun and stomped its skull flat.

    Pain filled her leg and she went weak. The last black-scale had clamped its jaws around her left leg. Soul force rushed out of her core like water out of a leaky tub.

    Jen rammed her sword between its shoulder blades before she became so weak she couldn¡¯t fight back. It hissed, opening its jaws enough that she managed to yank her calf free.

    She stumbled away from it. As she moved, the wound through its torso sealed up. Jen used the tiny bit of her remaining soul force to stop her leg from bleeding.

    The soul force eater stood two feet taller after draining her, its head now brushing the roots hanging from the ceiling. Jen had only what strength she could muster from her shaky muscles; her empty core wouldn¡¯t regenerate for hours.

    The monster advanced and she hopped back down the tunnel. Her gaze darted left and right, hoping in vain to find something that might give her an advantage against the empowered creature. There was nothing but dirt and loose pebbles.

    The black-scale snapped at her, forcing Jen to jump back. Her legs swore at her. Her weak counter slash bounced off its thick scales without making a scratch. She didn¡¯t have enough strength behind the blow.

    She backpedaled faster, a desperate plan forming. If it would just charge her, the monster¡¯s own strength would do what she couldn¡¯t.

    It snapped at her again. Jen dodged and slashed its lower jaw. Just a shallow wound but it snarled at her. Jen bared her teeth right back at it. Come on, you ugly bastard, come get me.

    She dodged two more swipes of its claws, opening a thin gash on its forearm in passing. It roared and charged. Finally.

    Jen set her back foot and drove into it. Her sword burst out its back. Somehow she managed to guide it to the side so the huge body didn¡¯t crush her.

    She put a boot on its chest and ripped her sword free. Stupid monster. They were awfully lucky their opponents didn¡¯t have brains to go along with their powers. Jen needed to catch up with Damien. If her brother ran into any more monsters he¡¯d need her help.

 4.25

    Damien hurried down the tunnel. Jen wouldn¡¯t have any trouble dealing with four monsters. The way she fought, he figured she¡¯d catch up to them long before they reached¡­wherever they were going. The thud of steel on flesh mingled with hisses of pain. He grinned in the dim light.

    Go get ¡¯em, sis.

    Five minutes later they reached a blank dirt wall and Jen still hadn¡¯t caught up. Damien allowed himself a moment of worry before he brushed it off. No way she¡¯d lose to some stupid monsters. Jen would be along any minute. Which begged the question: what were they supposed to do when she got here?

    Damien leaned over the box to check on his passengers. Leah was still out, eyes closed and breathing slow and steady. The old druid didn¡¯t look so good. He wheezed and coughed, his eyes fluttered under his lids, his face was ashen and sunken in. Whatever Eleck had done to him it knocked him for a loop.

    Much as he hated to bother the wise one, Damien had no idea what they were supposed to do now. He shook the wise one and his eyes fluttered open.

    ¡°We¡¯re here. What now?¡±

    The wise one raised a shaking hand. ¡°Help me touch the wall.¡±

    Damien guided the box over beside the tunnel wall so the wise one could reach it. The moment he did a glow surrounded his hand and a faint tremor ran through the tunnel. Damien drew power, ready to reinforce the walls should it become necessary.

    The end of the tunnel rattled, and clumps of dirt fell to the floor revealing a wall of roots and vines. The strands of wood pulled back, some going up into the ceiling and others down into the ground. When the shaking ended the tunnel continued on, sloping a little downward.

    Down didn¡¯t seem like the way they wanted to go, but he had no other options except back the way they came and that seemed unlikely to take them anywhere safe.

    The wise one slumped back into the box. ¡°We need to go.¡±

    ¡°Just as soon as Jen catches up.¡±

    ¡°Have to hurry.¡±

    ¡°We will, but not until my sister gets here.¡± Damien didn¡¯t care what the old man said, he wasn¡¯t going anywhere without Jen.

    The minutes ticked by one after another and still no Jen. He was about to go looking for her when she staggered into view. Damien sighed in relief. She was still alive, but clearly the fight hadn¡¯t gone as well as he¡¯d hoped.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    A figure loomed above her. A black-scale. The biggest one he¡¯d seen so far. Its core blazed with power. It must have drained Jen. That was why she looked so weak. Clearly she was in no shape to fight. Damien drew his sword and dagger and charged.

    Jen stared at his bared weapons. ¡°What are you¡ª¡±

    Damien drew a bit of soul force and flew over her head, sword leading. The giant black-scale twitched aside at the last moment. Instead of his sword piercing its eye he only managed to scratch its cheek.

    He landed behind it, rolled to his feet, and spun. Just in time to angle his sword between him and an incoming claw.

    Damien slammed into the tunnel wall, pinned by a hand big enough to wrap around his chest.

    He drove his dagger into its wrist three times in rapid succession. The monster roared and snatched its hand back.

    The bleeding wound sealed and vanished in seconds. Its core dimmed a bit as well. Damien raised his weapons. There was nothing for it. He¡¯d just have to keep cutting until it ran out of healing energy.

    The black-scale roared again as Jen¡¯s sword burst from its thigh. A backhanded swipe sent his sister flying toward the end of the tunnel. Her sword went one way and she went the other.

    Damien took advantage of the distraction to stab three deep wounds in its side. The black-scale shrank visibly as it healed the wounds, its core more than halfway depleted.

    It attacked again, quicker this time. Not warlord speed, but fast enough that it took all of Damien¡¯s skill to dance around its claws. He didn¡¯t even dare try and counterattack.

    Fortunately he didn¡¯t need to. His opponent was burning through its stolen soul force in a hurry to increase its speed. It got smaller and slower by the second.

    Damien dodged a snapping lunge and countered with his dagger, opening a thin line along its jaw. The wound didn¡¯t heal at once. Its core was empty.

    Damien grinned. He had the advantage in speed now. He feinted at the black-scale¡¯s throat and when it twisted its head Damien dropped his sword tip, piercing it through the chest.

    He dropped back on guard, but the fight was over. The black-scale slumped to the tunnel floor facedown. Just to be safe Damien ran it through twice more. When neither wound closed he nodded, cleaned his sword on the hem of his tunic, and went to check on Jen.

    She groaned when he helped her sit up. A quick glance revealed the still-depleted state of her core. It would be hours before she could fight at full strength. He looked back up the tunnel. At least there were no monsters in the immediate vicinity.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Damien helped her to her feet.

    Jen wobbled like a drunk then got herself under control. ¡°I¡¯ll live. Just need a few hours¡¯ rest. I thought I killed that thing.¡±

    Damien put her arm around his neck. ¡°Lean on me.¡±

    They hobbled their way over to the others. Damien conjured a seat on the edge of the box. ¡°Take a load off.¡±

    ¡°I can walk.¡±

    ¡°You can barely stand. Sit down. We need to move faster than you can stagger.¡±

    It was a sign of just how exhausted she felt that his sister didn¡¯t even argue. She slumped on the seat and Damien conjured a belt around her waist so she wouldn¡¯t fall off. He sent out a tendril of soul force. The golden thread wrapped around the hilt of her sword and pulled it to Damien. He scoured the blood off it with a burst of power and slid it in the sheath on her back.

    Jen never even flinched. She¡¯d fallen fast asleep.

 4.26

    Jonny woke to a bright glare filtering through the limbs of the maple he¡¯d collapsed under the night before. Everything hurt, even his hair somehow. He hadn¡¯t used the urn¡¯s power for more than a second or two and it about killed him. He hoped that blond bitch he blasted was in worse shape than him at least.

    He struggled to his feet. His stomach was complaining and his tongue felt like sandpaper. Maybe he could find a stream to quench his thirst. Jonny staggered from one tree to the next. He couldn¡¯t believe the sorcerers hadn¡¯t chased him last night, especially after he blasted one of their own. Maybe they were afraid of the urn. He grinned then winced at the pain in his face. It would be nice if the red tabards feared him instead of the other way around.

    If he was honest with himself Jonny doubted he had guts enough to use the urn again or the strength to survive if he did. There were some things you should only do once in your life, like jumping in a frozen lake on a two-royal bet or sleeping with your best friend¡¯s girl just because she¡¯s willing. Using the urn¡¯s power definitely fell into the one time only column.

    He needed to get out of these trees and figure out where he was. After the battle he¡¯d been so messed up he couldn¡¯t even remember which direction he ran. He thought east, but wasn¡¯t willing to bet his life on it. His contact lived in the village Long Rest southeast of the capital. It was situated on a dirt side road off the main trade route. If he could only reach it everything would be okay.

    An hour of stumbling through the woods brought Jonny to a clearing where he finally got a good look at the sun. He¡¯d been moving dead east, thank heaven. He only needed a minor correction to get back on track.

    Jonny had managed about three hundred yards when the splashing of water brought him up short. His head swung left and right, trying to home in on the noise. Five minutes later he found it, as pretty a stream as you could hope to find. His knees crunched in the grass beside it and he bent down to drink. Three handfuls slaked his thirst and cleared his head. Now that he could think again it occurred to him that he may have been out longer than he first thought. If that was true the lack of hunters surprised him even more.

    Never one to question his good fortune, Jonny started walking again. He had a long way to go on an empty stomach.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.Jonny managed to cover half the distance to Long Rest when he heard voices and people crashing through the bushes. He leaned against a tree and held his breath. They were growing closer by the second and Jonny was too tired to pick up his pace.

    Tired or not, if he didn¡¯t hurry whoever trailed him would catch up. He pushed away from the tree and managed a limping trot. At least it wasn¡¯t sorcerers tracking him. They¡¯d be in the sky not crashing through the bushes. The red tabards had probably set his former comrades on him. Maybe if he saw someone he knew they could make a deal. On the other hand if they¡¯d heard about him poisoning Fat Garrik and his crew at the gate maybe they¡¯d run him through and ask questions later. Best not to risk making contact.

    A combination of grit and terror brought Jonny within sight of the village ahead of his hunters. He looked down at Long Rest from the top of a little ridge. His contact lived on a farm at the edge of town. Another half a mile and he¡¯d be safe.

    Jonny started down the ridge, stumbled on a root and tumbled to the bottom. The urn flew out of his satchel and landed at the base of a small cherry bush. He reached for it, stopped, bit his lip, and grabbed it.

    Nothing happened. He slipped the evil thing back in the satchel and yanked it shut. Why didn¡¯t it come to life when he touched it? He didn¡¯t know and didn¡¯t care. It wouldn¡¯t be his problem for much longer.

    He dragged himself up and limped on, his ankle now hurting just a touch more than everything else. At the edge of the woods his contact¡¯s farm came into view. It was a modest place, the sort of little farm you wouldn¡¯t give a second look to. A small barn sat about ten yards from a one-room stone hut. Smoke swirled out of the chimney and in the field a small flock of sheep browsed at the new spring grass.

    He rapped on the door to the hut. Come on, damn you, open up. The door creaked in and a pinched, wrinkled face sporting a patchy beard appeared in the gap.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing here? Our next meeting isn¡¯t for two months.¡±

    ¡°I need help. Everything went to pieces in the capital. I can¡¯t go back. I have the artifact, but there are hunters after me. You have to hide me.¡±

    His contact¡¯s jaw worked as he thought it over. ¡°Get inside.¡±

    The door opened enough for Jonny to slip inside then shut behind him. The hut held nothing but a cot, a workbench, and an iron stove. ¡°Where am I supposed to hide, under your bed?¡±

    ¡°Something like that.¡± His contact pulled the cot out away from the wall and ran his finger along the floor. Something clicked and he lifted a door up revealing a space under the floor. ¡°Get in.¡±

    Jonny crawled into the tiny space and the door slammed, leaving him in total darkness. Scraping came from above as his contact slid the cot back in place. Nowhere for him to run now. He just had to hope his contact didn¡¯t betray him.

 4.27

    Damien followed the hidden tunnel down at a slight slope, the air growing damper and mustier the deeper he went. It stretched on and on for far longer than he would have preferred, but he¡¯d sealed the entrance with a blast of soul force, so it was either keep moving or blast his way up to the surface. He could do it if he had to, but unless he ran out of tunnel he preferred to keep any sorcery to a minimum. Damien didn¡¯t know how sensitive the soul force eaters were, but he figured less power was better.

    Jen and Leah were still asleep and the wise one went from conscious to unconscious and back one minute to the next. Though seldom lacking in confidence, as Damien made his way down the tunnel with nothing but the glow from his construct to light the way, he would have appreciated some reassurance that something was waiting for them at the end of the tunnel.

    So it was to his great relief when the slope leveled out then went up. He picked up his pace and ten minutes later came to another wall of roots. A faint green glow leaked out between the openings in the wall and he caught a whiff of water. Something glittered through the gaps in the roots.

    Damien reached in and shook the wise one until he woke. ¡°I think we¡¯re here. Can you open the door?¡±

    ¡°Help me to the wall.¡±

    Damien guided the wise one¡¯s hand over to the tunnel wall and soon the familiar green glow formed around it. The roots withdrew and Damien directed his construct into an underground grotto. A beautiful blue pool of water dominated the chamber. Green phosphorescence lit the grotto and gave it a sense of otherworldliness. Under different circumstances Damien would have enjoyed just taking in the sight, but for the moment he had business to attend to.

    ¡°What now?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Help me out and press my back against the dirt wall.¡±

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.Damien lifted the wise one¡ªthe old druid seemed nothing but skin and bones¡ªand carried him over to the grotto wall. He frowned and conjured a pair of extra hands. He managed, with considerable muttering, to maneuver him into place. The moment he did fine tendrils grew out and pierced the wise one¡¯s flesh. More vines grew and wrapped around his wrists, freeing Damien from having to hold him. In two minutes he looked every bit as connected to this room as he had to the one they fled, and even his face had filled out more.

    The wise one sighed. ¡°Put Leah in the pool. The water will restore her.¡±

    Damien looked from the old man to Leah back to the wise one. ¡°What about her clothes?¡±

    ¡°Take them off. It will be more effective if they aren¡¯t clinging to her.¡±

    ¡°I was afraid you were going to say that.¡±

    Damien stripped her as quickly and methodically as he could, trying in vain to ignore the lean, fit body underneath. When he finished he wrapped her in soul force and slid her into the water before reabsorbing his power. Leah floated on the surface surrounded by a faint emerald glow.

    That left Jen, who, as far as he could tell, only required a good long nap. He shifted the box into a couch and set her to one side of the pool. Damien slumped beside the wise one and closed his eyes.

    ¡°So what happens now?¡± Damien asked. ¡°The investigation seems kind of beside the point since we know who¡¯s responsible.¡±

    ¡°I trusted Eleck like a son. I thought one day he would take my place as Wise One. To have him betray me, betray all of us like this is beyond my comprehension. I suppose the task hasn¡¯t changed. We need to deal with Eleck and his followers then restore the ley line to its proper place.¡±

    ¡°Followers?¡±

    ¡°Yes. No druid, not even me, has the power to shift a ley line on their own. He needed a full circle to manage something so powerful.¡±

    ¡°A full circle?¡± Damien felt like an idiot asking for constant clarifications.

    ¡°One experienced druid to guide the ritual and seven acolytes to provide power.¡± The wise one shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t believe he found seven others to betray the Green Path. Have I failed my people to such an extent that they¡¯d follow someone as corrupt as Eleck?¡±

    Damien wasn¡¯t quite certain how to respond to the wise one¡¯s sad speech. Pep talks weren¡¯t his specialty. Threats were more his speed. ¡°Maybe Eleck tricked them, like he tricked you. After all you had no idea that he was involved or that he had betrayed you. Perhaps he convinced whoever helped him that what they were doing was the right thing. It doesn¡¯t make much difference to me. They need to be dealt with to protect my home, so I¡¯ll deal with them.¡±

 4.28

    Alden flew above the forest, trying in vain to see or sense Jonny and the urn. He missed Imogen, especially at times like this. She had a much stronger talent for detecting others at a distance. Unfortunately for him she still wasn¡¯t fully recovered from her encounter with the urn. Her protests to the contrary aside, anyone could see she was still weak.

    Not that Alden was brave enough to tell her that. The archmage, on the other hand, was made of sterner stuff. She informed Imogen in no uncertain terms that she was staying at the castle until she returned to one hundred percent. Such was the power of Lidia Thorn¡¯s personality that Imogen didn¡¯t utter so much as a peep of complaint.

    Below him twenty young men and women wearing crimson vests and trousers tied with yellow silk scarves beat the brush for any sign of Jonny. When the grandmaster woke up he put the entire dojo at Alden¡¯s disposal in gratitude for his saving his life. He¡¯d asked for twenty volunteers from the hundred plus students that gathered in the training room.

    When they learned they were hunting for the man that stabbed their master every hand in the room went up. Alden chose from the older students in hopes that they¡¯d capture Jonny the way he wanted rather than seek revenge. He was probably being ungenerous to the students. They had all shown great discipline and determination so far and he had no doubt the ones he didn¡¯t choose would have done as well.

    Alden¡¯s head snapped southeast. For a moment he had sensed the urn¡¯s corruption. He couldn¡¯t imagine why Jonny would take it out now, but it was the first sign that he hadn¡¯t fled the area. Maybe he¡¯d decided to abandon the artifact, use it as a distraction like Alden had done when he escaped Mikhail Santen. Even if that was the case Alden would gladly trade Jonny¡¯s escape for the safe return of the urn.

    He flew down to where the leader of the searchers, an experienced teacher who Alden guessed was in his early forties, stood watching his pupils search. The bald man bowed to Alden. ¡°Sir?¡±

    ¡°Swing your people southeast. For a few seconds I sensed the urn. We have to check it out.¡±

    ¡°As you say.¡± He whistled once, a high, sharp squeal. Quicker than Alden would have thought possible the searchers gathered around him. ¡°Shift southeast. Be on your guard, we may be getting close.¡±

    Several of the students smiled. Alden sighed. Must be nice to be young and foolish. Alden sometimes missed it, not often, but sometimes. ¡°Signal me if you find him. I don¡¯t dare get too close until the urn is secured.¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.¡°As you say.¡±

    Alden flew back up to what he hoped was a safe distance. The students gradually approached the spot where he¡¯d sensed the corruption. Time passed and no one shouted their success. Fifteen minutes later the bald master waved him down. Alden landed beside him in a small clearing.

    ¡°Someone fell here, recently.¡± He pointed to some scuffed-up dirt that meant absolutely nothing to Alden.

    ¡°Can you tell which way he went?¡±

    The master pointed south and a little east. Alden had seen a village that way, a little flyspeck of a place with more sheep than people. Was Jonny headed there for some reason or was it a coincidence? Alden didn¡¯t have much use for coincidences and until he knew otherwise he¡¯d assume the decision was deliberate.

    ¡°Stay on his trail. I suspect he¡¯s headed for a village perhaps a mile ahead. I¡¯ll keep watch from a distance and signal you if he tries to flee.¡±

    ¡°As you say.¡± The master bowed and strode over to his waiting students.

    Alden smiled and flew skyward again. Why couldn¡¯t everyone be as easy to work with as the Iron Path students? It wasn¡¯t just that Alden saved their grandmaster either. The students and teacher carried themselves with an exceptional level of discipline he¡¯d found in no other group he¡¯d ever worked with. Warlords came close, but sorcerers¡­their eccentricities didn¡¯t bear mentioning. Trying to convince a large group of sorcerers to work together was like herding cats, big ones that could smash villages flat.

    Alden hung in the air over the sleepy village, the only movement a pair of shepherds guiding their respective flocks. Neither of them had a big enough build to be Jonny. From the edge of the woods the students emerged and walked toward a farm on the outskirts. They formed a semicircle around the place so no one could sneak out without someone noticing.

    Alden wasn¡¯t keen on landing before they captured Jonny, but they¡¯d need his authority to search the farmer¡¯s house and barn. He said a silent prayer and landed a short distance from the stone hut.

    ¡°We followed the tracks right up to the front door,¡± the master said.

    Alden nodded and knocked on the door. A few seconds later it opened partway and a grizzled face appeared in the gap.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, sir. We¡¯re tracking a dangerous fugitive and have reason to believe he came this way. Have you seen anyone?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to have to search your property just to make sure.¡±

    The door opened the rest of the way revealing the simple, one-room interior. Not a lot of hiding places, that was for certain. ¡°Go ahead. Shouldn¡¯t take you more than half a minute.¡±

    The old farmer was a real charmer. Alden couldn¡¯t understand why there wasn¡¯t a line of women standing at his front door. Alden motioned the master and one of his students inside. Like the farmer said, the search didn¡¯t take long. But Jonny had to be hiding here somewhere.

    Alden¡¯s fist clenched and relaxed. Should he risk using sorcery to make sure? A well-disguised hidden chamber might be impossible to detect otherwise. They could just wait. Jonny couldn¡¯t hide forever.

    Damn it!

    Alden couldn¡¯t keep the Iron Path students out here for days. He had to risk it. Even if Jonny took him out with the urn the students should have no trouble capturing him afterward. Alden drew power from his core and sent streams of soul force snaking over the floorboards.

    A second later the world exploded in black lightning.

 4.29

    Koran Dane hated everyone and everything. When he learned about a cult whose goal was to destroy the world he decided he¡¯d found a home at last. For thirty years he kept a safe house for members to use when they needed a place to hide. He settled in a little village close enough to the capital that he could keep a general eye on the goings on and report to his superiors. No one bothered Koran more than once. He lived alone and liked it that way.

    When the sorcerer showed up with a small army looking for the current occupant of his bolthole Koran figured his days of ease were at an end. The lid to the secret compartment fit perfectly with the floor, but it wouldn¡¯t stop a sorcerer from finding it. When the golden energy leaked from the sorcerer¡¯s fingers Koran eased his way closer to the door. Maybe he could escape while they were busy with the over-muscled idiot in the hole.

    The floor exploded. Koran leapt out the door and rolled as far from the hut as he could, as fast as possible for a man his age. The lads in red surrounding his farm ran toward the black lightning shredding the thatch of his roof. A remarkably brave and beyond stupid thing to do. Koran¡¯s theory was proven a moment later when the hut exploded. Lightning and shattered rock went everywhere, including three or four chips that bounced off his head.

    In the center of the chaos stood his idiot boarder, waving a black jug around, screaming his lungs out and generally raising a horrible ruckus. Koran¡¯s neighbors had never thought much of him and this certainly wasn¡¯t going to put him in their good books.

    The idiot waved his jug at three young men in red sneaking up behind him and the lightning blasted them off their feet.

    They didn¡¯t get back up.

    The one-sided battle lasted for less than a minute. When it ended the only person in the vicinity still conscious was Koran. He got slowly to his feet, knees creaking and complaining, and hobbled over to the nearest man in red, a young fellow with a shaved head maybe twenty years old. He touched the kid¡¯s wrist and found a strong pulse. A quick slash of Koran¡¯s belt knife put an end to that.

    Five minutes later twenty corpses decorated Koran¡¯s yard. It served them right for destroying his home. Just inside the door the sorcerer in charge lay in a crumpled heap, wheezing in ragged gasps. Koran put him out of his misery and added one more to the body count. Sorcerers were much easier to kill when they were unconscious.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The fool with the black jug lay in a heap in the center of what was left of Koran¡¯s house. The item in question sat a little ways away, looking just as innocent as you please.

    Koran crouched beside his unwelcome guest, his knife dripping blood, and debated whether to kill him or not. They were technically on the same side, but the fool had ruined a cover that had lasted decades. For that indignity alone Koran wanted to kill him.

    Hell, Koran wanted to kill him on general principle, but he had a lifetime of practice forcing that impulse down. At the very least he¡¯d keep his unwelcome guest alive long enough to tell him what that black bauble was worth. Koran guessed the answer was a lot.

    Koran poked his guest in the ribs with his knife. After that little display he figured they needed to move things along. Two more pokes brought the idiot around. He sat up and groaned. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°You flattened my house and killed a bunch of kingdom men. You need to tell me what the hell is going on before some people we really don¡¯t want to meet get here. Let¡¯s start with who the hell you really are.¡±

    ¡°Jonny Linn. I¡¯m a castle guard stationed outside the throne room. We have to get the urn to the master. We won¡¯t be safe until he has it.¡±

    ¡°Looks like those kingdom boys wanted it pretty bad too.¡±

    Jonny nodded. It looked like he used the last of his strength to do it. ¡°They¡¯ve been hunting me for days. I need to send a message. Tell them to come get me.¡±

    ¡°How you going to do that?¡± Koran asked.

    Jonny dug through his belt pouch and pulled out a black crystal bird. ¡°Write a message and put it in the bird¡¯s beak. It will fly to the master. Tell him where we are.¡±

    Koran eyed the little black bird and spat. Didn¡¯t look like he had any other way out of this mess. He dug through Jonny¡¯s pouch and pulled out a scrap of paper and a stubby pencil. He couldn¡¯t tell them to come here. His hunting shack would do. It was secluded and no one else knew about it.

    Before he could start writing the half-dead idiot tugged on his pant leg. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The urn. Where?¡±

    ¡°On the floor where you dropped it. Now shut up and let me write.¡±

    ¡°Put it in the satchel. Sorcerers can sense it otherwise.¡±

    Koran raised an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m not touching that thing. It was a damn wonder I survived the first time you switched it on.¡±

    Jonny gave a feeble shake of his head. ¡°Only works when sorcerers are around. Safe now.¡±

    Koran eyed the urn sitting there on his floor like a giant black turd. He found Jonny¡¯s satchel and held it open while he poked the urn with his toe. After a bit of prodding he worked it inside and cinched down the ties. ¡°Happy?¡±

    Jonny collapsed back on the floor. Koran took that as a yes. He wrote a brief note giving directions to the shack then stuck it in the bird¡¯s mouth. Crystal wings fluttered and it took off, going north and a bit east.

    Koran turned his attention back to Jonny. What should he do with the idiot? He sure as hell wasn¡¯t carrying him two miles through the woods. He fingered his knife. What was one more body amidst all this?

 4.30

    Imogen paced off to the side of the throne room while the archmage argued with a merchant about the damage to his warehouse. From the little she¡¯d bothered to listen to it seemed the fat slob wanted them to use their vastly overstretched resources to repair his business before they found safe, warm places for those displaced by the quake.

    The man was lucky he wasn¡¯t dealing with Imogen. She would have set his fancy tunic on fire and ordered him out of the castle. The archmage had to be more polite than that, though judging from her fierce scowling Lidia was on the verge of doing something Imogen would have approved of.

    The archmage had ordered her to rest, but Imogen was too anxious to lay in her bunk. After yet another argument her superior had agreed to let her pace as long as she stayed out of the way. How did the archmage think she could relax when Alden was out on his own hunting for someone that had already proven he could take out a sorcerer with no trouble? She should have been out there with him.

    A burst of corruption, distant but powerful, stopped Imogen in her tracks. She knew that power. Jonny had activated the urn again. The archmage stood beside her, her problem merchant forgotten.

    ¡°Was that what I think it was?¡± the archmage asked.

    ¡°Yes. I have to make sure Alden¡¯s okay.¡±

    The archmage nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll go together.¡±

    The two women rushed out of the throne room and into the courtyard, leaving the protesting merchant behind. They sprang into the air and flew south. Imogen let the archmage take the lead. The truth was she couldn¡¯t have outflown the older woman if she was in peak condition and as much as Imogen hated to admit it she was far from peak condition.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    At least the archmage hadn¡¯t tried to force her to stay behind. Imogen appreciated the consideration. She¡¯d worked with Alden long enough now that she felt responsible for what happened to him. If she hadn¡¯t let Jonny get the best of her at the dojo nothing would have gone wrong.

    The trail of corruption ended at the edge of a small village near the border of the Great Green. Bodies dressed in the red and yellow uniforms of the Iron Path dojo littered the ground around a smashed hut. They landed near the ruin.

    Imogen gasped. Just inside the door was Alden¡¯s body, his throat cut ear to ear. Deeper in was Jonny Linn, equally dead, with the exact same wound. There was no sign of the urn or the satchel that held it.

    Imogen backed away from the carnage, her whole body trembling. She wanted very badly to kill someone, but the only person in the area still breathing was the archmage. A strong hand grasped her shoulder.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t your fault,¡± the archmage said. ¡°If you¡¯d been here you¡¯d have died with him. The way things are going we can¡¯t afford to lose anyone else.¡±

    Imogen threw her head back and screamed. When her throat was raw and her lungs empty she wiped the tears away. ¡°What now?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m no tracker and even if I were two sorcerers chasing after someone with the urn is suicide. By the time we fly reinforcements out here whoever has the urn will be long gone. I fear we have no choice but to accept our failure and move on. The enemy has two of the three urns so all sorcerers will have to be especially careful from now on. Help me prepare the bodies for transport. I don¡¯t know the Iron Path¡¯s preferred funeral rites. Since they died helping us it seems the least we can do is bring them home.¡±

    Imogen snarled and sent a blast of focused soul force into Jonny¡¯s body, reducing it to a fine ash. Pity he wasn¡¯t still alive to feel it.

 4.31

    Connor massaged his temples. The library was far too small for both him and the erstwhile merchant to share for long periods. He needed to find something for Mikhail to do before his clanking footsteps drove Connor to violence. It seemed he¡¯d been listening to Mikhail pace for days. While Connor was content to wait for events to proceed, Mikhail had less patience.

    Connor cocked his head and honed in on an approaching energy. One of his messenger birds was returning. A moment later the black crystal bird flew into the library and landed on the arm of his chair, a message clamped in its beak.

    Connor grabbed the scrap of paper and gestured the little bird away. Mikhail clanked back to read over his shoulder.

    Apparently his agent had recovered the urn, but now required transportation to a safe location. It included directions to a remote location in the woods fifteen miles from the capital. Connor smiled and stood up. At last his patience had been rewarded.

    ¡°So the spy succeeded,¡± Mikhail said.

    ¡°I¡¯m not so certain. I¡¯ve read many messages from that particular bird and the handwriting on this note was totally different. Whoever has the urn, it isn¡¯t my spy.¡±

    Mikhail straightened up. ¡°You suspect a trap?¡±

    ¡°Doubtful. Only the spy could have sent that bird. Morana linked it to his soul force. More likely he¡¯s injured and had someone else write it for him. An ally of some sort.¡±

    Connor gestured the bird back from its perch on one of his shelves. It landed on his finger and he willed it to return to the spy. The bird just sat there staring at him with its black crystal eyes.

    ¡°My spy is dead.¡± Connor returned the bird to its spot on the shelf. Until it was linked to a new person the little messenger was useless. ¡°I believe I¡¯ll go see who ended up with my property.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.¡°Let me go, Master. It might be dangerous.¡±

    Connor laughed. He was by far the stronger of the two and he was curious about whoever wrote the message. If Mikhail went he¡¯d kill whoever it was without learning anything. It wouldn¡¯t do to cut down a potential ally. He¡¯d just lost one spy, maybe he could pick up a new one.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. Stay here and protect the library. This shouldn¡¯t take long.¡±

    Mikhail bowed his head. ¡°As you command.¡±

    Connor flew south, swinging wide around the capital. It took him miles out of his way, but he didn¡¯t want to risk any Crimson Legionnaires or worse, the archmage herself, sensing his passing. While he certainly didn¡¯t fear the sorcerers in the capital, he also didn¡¯t want to risk an unnecessary confrontation at this stage.

    He landed in a clearing deep in the woods. A crude shed, its roof sunken in and its boards rotting, sat near the edge. This had to be the place described in the note. ¡°Hello?¡±

    A weathered old man with a satchel slung over his shoulder emerged from the shack. He took one look at Connor and flinched. ¡°You must be the master the idiot mentioned.¡±

    Connor raised an eyebrow at the old man¡¯s insolence, but decided against killing him on the spot. ¡°Indeed. I¡¯m Connor Blackman. And you are?¡±

    ¡°Koran Dane. Your man led a sorcerer to my home then leveled it with this¡­whatever it is. I been watching the capital for better than thirty years for the cult and that bloody idiot ruined everything in a day. What am I supposed to do?¡±

    Connor understood now. This man was a member of the original cult. Most of them were nihilists who hated everything, psychopaths that wanted to watch everything die. Connor smiled. It was so rare to meet one of the old guard.

    ¡°For someone that has served the cult so well for so long I¡¯m certain we can find a task for you. You know Morana?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°The redhead. She¡¯s been collecting my reports for the past two years. She¡¯s a sight easier on the eyes than the last poxy son of a whore I reported to.¡±

    ¡°Splendid. She¡¯s working with some other members in Valcane. I¡¯m certain you¡¯d be a great asset for her. Now, the urn.¡±

    He shrugged off the satchel and handed it to Connor. ¡°I forgot about it for a minute. Glad to be rid of the awful thing. You going to fly me to the coast?¡±

    Connor laughed again. ¡°Hardly. I¡¯ll send Morana a message and she¡¯ll come collect you in a day or two. Just wait here and stay out of sight.¡± He undid the ties on the satchel and looked inside. The inky black cylinder glinted in the late afternoon light.

    Connor leapt into the air and powered back north with his prize. Now, once Eleck completed his task, Connor could begin the final phase of his plan.

 4.32

    Eleck paced in the small chamber that served as his quarters. Dirt trickled from the walls as roots came and went, slithering along like serpents. The wise one still lived. If it were otherwise the roots would be still.

    Damn the strangers! If they had simply died in the initial attack as they were supposed to Eleck could have announced the murder of the wise one at their hands and assumed command of the Green Path. If he made the announcement now everyone would know he was lying. The very existence of the still-squirming roots would denounce him.

    He clenched his fists, trying to ignore the pain in his hands. He used the black rings Master Connor had given him as little as possible, but even a single blast left his hands aching for days. He raised his sore hands and studied the black veins running along the palms and between his knuckles. The long gloves he favored hid them well enough along with blocking anyone from sensing their corruption. They were potent tools, but like anything, not without cost.

    Eleck concentrated on the silver ring studded with black gems. He felt nothing, no stirring, no hint that any of his soul force eaters survived their encounter with the outsiders. The red ring still pulsed with life. Four of the fire breathers still lived, though Eleck doubted their ability to slow his enemies. The demon-tainted beasts lurking in the newly corrupted portions of the Great Green might give them pause, but Eleck held out little hope of ultimate victory there. The only real chance he had was the powerful guardians securing the cave. As long as he kept the outsiders from interfering with the circle nothing else mattered.

    ¡°Master?¡± Delia said from beyond the curtain that separated his room from the tunnel.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°The people are gathered as you requested. They¡¯re waiting and eager to hear you speak.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be along in a moment.¡± As soon as I figure out just what I¡¯m going to say.

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±

    Eleck sighed. His acolytes were obedient, but lacking in motivation. He shouldn¡¯t complain. It was that very lack that made them so easy to persuade to his cause. Whispered vague promises combined with a show of force from his monsters convinced them that remaining loyal to the current wise one would be bad for their health.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Fear did wonders to keep them obedient. Eleck should know, he was terrified of Connor and his black knight, and would do anything they said if it meant avoiding a face-to-face meeting. He didn¡¯t know how much longer he could postpone that meeting. To assure his success Eleck feared he¡¯d need reinforcements. Better to ask for more help than to fail, that was certain.

    Eleck pulled on his gloves and straightened his green robes. He couldn¡¯t claim the wise one was dead, but he could still blame the outsiders for kidnapping him. The would give him temporary control of the group and turn them away from helping his enemies. He¡¯d have to find some way to make the wise one¡¯s disappearance permanent before anyone found him.

    He brushed the curtain aside and stepped out into the tunnel. Delia flinched away from him before remembering he was supposed to be a beloved leader not a figure of terror. That was the sort of slip that could give people the wrong idea if she made it around those outside their little circle. Chastising her would only make her more jumpy. Eleck put a gentle hand on her back.

    ¡°Stay calm, Delia. This matter will be resolved soon. Always remember, outside the cave there¡¯s no reason to fear me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master Eleck.¡± The mousy blond couldn¡¯t even look him in the eye when she spoke.

    He needed to order one of the others to take her place. She was the weakest member of the circle, but if she couldn¡¯t even manage the simple tasks he set her, she¡¯d be less of a liability tending the ritual.

    Eleck strode through the familiar tunnels with their boring dirt walls and floor, dangling roots brushing his hair. When he assumed full control he¡¯d have the damned things trimmed back and maybe put some stones on the floor. What sort of leader had to walk in the dirt?

    He sighed. One who was connected with the earth force at all times, as a proper Wise One should be. Eleck could still see and manipulate the power, but he¡¯d long since lost the easy connection he used to have with the Green Path. He sometimes missed the gentle energy flowing through his feet and up into his body.

    Eleck held up his hands. That weak energy was nothing compared to the strength he¡¯d gained from the black rings. His rings gave him real power, real control. As long as he had them Eleck was master of his fate. At least as long as he obeyed Connor.

    Out in the clearing all the people of the Green Path had gathered around the entrance to the temple. Everyone wore nervous expressions, the gazes darting from one friend to another in hope of some reassurance.

    Perfect.

    Eleck would give them false reassurances and they would be all the more eager to believe him.

 4.33

    The wise one¡¯s grumbling woke Damien from a light doze. The old druid was grinding his teeth and muttering obscenities. Who¡¯d have thought the leader of the druids could swear like a sailor? Jen still slept on the couch he conjured for her and Leah floated in the pond, every bit as out of it as his sister.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Eleck. He¡¯s giving a speech, warning my people about you. He says you kidnapped me and that they need to be vigilant lest more outsiders sneak in and harm them. Lying fraud! If only I had the strength to get up there.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s certainly clever. Give the people an external enemy to focus on and they¡¯re less likely to notice the corruption within. That¡¯s a tactic that¡¯s worked many times, at least according to the history books. So what¡¯s the plan once everybody¡¯s finished with their naps?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to confront Eleck at his hidden cave. Leah can show you the way. I can¡¯t leave the temple, but I can keep an eye on things here. I know you can¡¯t do what needs to be done without violence, I only ask that you refrain from harming any of the innocent people Eleck has deceived.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you think you know about people from outside your little group, but we¡¯re not in the habit of slaughtering innocents. We¡¯ll do what¡¯s necessary to protect the kingdom and no more. Once the threat is eliminated cleaning up the mess your prot¨¦g¨¦ made is your job.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± the wise one said. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to imply you and your sister were particularly violent, I simply worry for what my people might do under Eleck¡¯s influence. If they attack you I know you¡¯ll have to defend yourself.¡±

    Damien grunted, not especially mollified. A splash from the pond ended the conversation before it became an argument. Leah pulled her feet under her and walked through the shallow water back to shore. If she felt at all awkward standing completely naked in front of two men she gave no sign of it. She used her cloak to dry off and then dressed.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.When she finished she stretched and joined Damien beside the wise one. ¡°What happened?¡±

    The wise one gave her a quick summary. When he finished Leah was gaping like a fish on the deck. ¡°Eleck betrayed us? I can¡¯t believe it.¡±

    ¡°Believe it,¡± Damien said. ¡°He has two black rings and the corruption has already begun blackening his hands. Depending on how much he uses them he has at most a year or so to live.¡±

    ¡°What if he stopped using them and threw the rings away, could he be saved?¡± Leah looked at him with sad, pleading eyes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Healing isn¡¯t my area of expertise and frankly I saw no sign that he¡¯s in any way interested in tossing them aside. In my experience once people get a taste of power it¡¯s very hard to convince them to give it up. I suspect Connor gave him the rings as a test. If he completes whatever task the warlock set for him a more permanent form of power will likely be his reward.¡±

    Leah turned her sad gaze on the wise one. ¡°How could he do this? He would have eventually taken your place. Was that not power enough for him?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, my dear.¡±

    ¡°Maybe he got sick of waiting and decided to move things along on his own. It doesn¡¯t matter now anyway. He made his choice and now we need to deal with him. How do we get out of here once Jen wakes up?¡±

    ¡°I can open a path for you out the rear of the grotto. We¡¯re well away from the village so no one should see you leave. Once you¡¯re out I¡¯ll seal it up behind you.¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°How far to this cave once we¡¯re out of here?¡±

    Leah tapped her chin for a second. ¡°Perhaps a day. I was just wandering when I found it.¡±

    ¡°Follow the disturbances in the Green Path,¡± the wise one said. ¡°After that massive shift the power streams will be roiled and they¡¯ll grow worse the closer you come to the source of the shift.¡±

    Leah slapped her forehead. ¡°I never even considered that route. I can lead the way straight to it.¡±

    Damien grinned. ¡°Guess that¡¯s why he¡¯s the wise one.¡±

    Leah returned the smile. ¡°Yes it is.¡±

    Half an hour later Jen sat up and scrubbed her hand across her face. ¡°Where are we?¡±

    ¡°Safe for the moment,¡± Damien said. ¡°How are you?¡±

    Jen waved off his concern. ¡°Fine. I just needed to rest. Is that water safe to drink?¡±

    Damien checked it and found nothing toxic. ¡°There¡¯s nothing poisonous in it as long as you don¡¯t mind the fact that Leah¡¯s been floating in it for the last five hours.¡±

    Leah slapped his shoulder. ¡°What are you implying?¡±

    ¡°That none of us has had a bath since we left the castle.¡±

    Jen shrugged, cupped her hands and bent down to drink. There¡¯d have to be something pretty nasty in there to bother a warlord anyway.

    When she¡¯d drunk her fill Jen stood up and stretched. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡±

 4.34

    The wise one¡¯s tunnel opened into a small gap in the middle of a patch of thick brush. Damien followed Leah out, with Jen bringing up the rear. After what seemed like a long time underground, the fresh breeze and smell of evergreens made a welcome change. Judging from the shadows it was around midmorning.

    Damien¡¯s stomach grumbled. Some breakfast would have been nice, but all their supplies were back in the temple and he wasn¡¯t anxious to go and get them. Damien conjured a bird and added a transformation so it would shift into the letters ¡°ok¡± when it reached the archmage¡¯s office. It wasn¡¯t an ideal solution, but at least she¡¯d know they were still alive and working on the problem.

    The moment Jen¡¯s foot cleared the tunnel it collapsed in on itself. No one could reach the wise one now, not without a lot of digging. Leah stared at the ground and spun in a circle. When she finished the slow-motion pirouette Damien raised an eyebrow. ¡°Which way?¡±

    ¡°East.¡± Leah walked toward the thick brush and it parted for her.

    Damien expanded his shield, conjured another around Jen to protect her clothes, and followed Leah into the brush.

    They hadn¡¯t gone more than thirty feet when the thick scrub gave way to huge old trees that towered over them, blocking most of the light. Shadows danced in the corner of his vision as the wind made the branches sway. This would be a perfect place for an ambush. Lucky no one knew where they were.

    Leah trudged on, her gaze fixed on the ground like a hunting dog. Damien wished he could see what she saw, even just for a moment. He hated being completely dependent on someone else. The woods were open enough that Jen could walk beside him.

    ¡°When you charged me with your sword drawn I thought you¡¯d lost your mind.¡±

    Damien glanced at her and smiled. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear the soul force eater coming up behind you?¡±

    ¡°I was so drained it was a wonder I could put one foot in front of the other. You killed it without using sorcery?¡±

    ¡°You sound surprised. I kept up with my training even while I studied sorcery. I might not be a warlord, but I can still fight.¡±

    ¡°I know, but it would have been interesting to see the look on Dad¡¯s face if you came home twenty pounds overweight and barely able to swing your sword.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Interesting for you maybe. I doubt I would have survived.¡± Damien stopped. A faint hint of corruption swirled through the air. Weak and still distant, whatever he sensed lay dead ahead of them. ¡°Leah.¡±

    Jen stopped, but Leah kept going like he hadn¡¯t spoken.

    ¡°Leah!¡±

    She stumbled and turned to face him. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you feel it? Maybe half a mile ahead of us. Something nasty is waiting.¡±

    She turned back and a few seconds later stiffened. ¡°It¡¯s so¡­wrong. I¡¯ve wandered this forest my whole life and I¡¯ve never felt anything like this. What is it?¡±

    ¡°Demonic corruption. We¡¯ve seen it before,¡± Damien said.

    ¡°Is there another demon?¡± Jen asked.

    He couldn¡¯t decide if she was nervous, eager for another shot at one, or a little of both. ¡°It¡¯s too diffused. When we fought the goblins the power was all in one place, this is different. Is there another way to our destination?¡±

    Leah turned back toward them, her forehead creased. ¡°I¡¯m sure there is, but the line I¡¯m following leads straight through it. We might be able to find a way around, but I couldn¡¯t guess how long that might take.¡±

    Damien grunted and looked at his sister. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°The longer this takes the better the chance of something else happening to the capital. I say we plow through and deal with whatever gets in our way.¡±

    Damien nodded, not especially surprised. It might be tricky. Jen could take care of herself, but Leah was just a normal woman, leaving aside her ability to see earth force. He¡¯d have to keep a shield around her at all times. Somehow he doubted the plants up ahead would be inclined to do as they were told.

    The changes started ten minutes later. The trees turned scabrous and their bark started to peel. The ground cover thinned then vanished, leaving only dead ash behind. Birds fell silent¡ªor more likely they¡¯d abandoned this part of the forest. Over it all lay the perfume of rot.

    Ahead of them Leah trembled as she walked. She was probably more sensitive to the changes than he and Jen. She kept her gaze down and her step firm. If anything stopped them it wouldn¡¯t be her lack of determination.

    A high-pitched shriek came from above them an instant before a gray blur struck Leah. She staggered and tore at whatever had hit her.

    Damien and Jen rushed to help. They reached her side just as she threw it away from her. The ball of fur scrambled to its feet and spun to face them. Red eyes glowed above the fang-filled mouth of the meanest looking squirrel Damien had ever seen. Its fluffy tail had been replaced by a clump of quills that would have made a porcupine jealous.

    It hissed and Damien blasted it. ¡°You okay?¡±

    Leah touched her face, but Damien¡¯s shield had held. ¡°How can I be okay when things like that exist in the world? I never imagined such a thing was possible.¡±

    Damien decided not to mention the raccoons from the slaughterhouse. ¡°If demon squirrels are the worst thing we run into we¡¯ll be fine. How does the earth force look?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s still pure. The energy comes from the planet core. I can¡¯t imagine how much power it would take to corrupt that source. Thanks for the shield.¡±

    ¡°Sure. If you¡¯re ready we should move on.¡±

    Leah took a steadying breath and set out at a determined march. She had guts, no doubt about it. He suspected she¡¯d need all she had before this unnatural hike was over.

 4.35

    Squirrels, raccoons, birds, a pair of wolves, and a nest of rabbits. Damien never thought he¡¯d see monsters in so many shapes and sizes all in one place. He blasted and burned while Jen sliced and chopped. None ever came within ten feet of Leah though every one they cut down seemed to wound her just the same. They emerged from the corrupted forest near dark, exhausted and hungry.

    Ahead of them stretched an expanse of bare stone and dirt in which nothing grew and no spark of animal life showed itself. In its own way the emptiness was as horrifying as the tainted life of the dark forest. Damien would have liked to find a place for them to rest, but the only cover was back in the woods and he doubted anyone wanted to camp surrounded by demonic animals. About a hundred yards across the dead zone the slope turned steep and at the top of a rough trail was a cave.

    ¡°Is that it?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Leah sounded weak and he feared she hadn¡¯t fully recovered from her long sleep. ¡°It wasn¡¯t like this before. The terrain was rough, but there was life. Interfering with the Green Path has damaged all the life in this area. I can¡¯t believe he did this. Eleck once revered the wilderness.¡±

    ¡°You can discuss it with him after we set things right,¡± Jen said. ¡°We need to find cover and scout their position.¡±

    Leah pointed at a clump of boulders half again as tall as Damien partway up the slope and a little to their left. ¡°Perhaps behind them?¡±

    Jen frowned. ¡°Not ideal, but we don¡¯t have much to work with here. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    They trotted across the open ground and up the slope as quick as they could without raising a racket. If the enemy had any lookouts posted Damien couldn¡¯t spot them. They sat behind the stones and Damien conjured a scout bug. When he had the construct connected to a viewing rectangle he sent it toward the cave.

    Jen and Leah leaned in closer. He guided it through the opening and after a short flight the cave brightened. He tried to find the source of the glow, but it came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It didn¡¯t have the same green tint as the light in the temple but Damien sensed no corruption.

    ¡°What¡¯s that light?¡± he asked.

    ¡°The blood of the earth. It¡¯s running through the walls close enough to the surface that the light oozes out fine crystals embedded throughout the tunnel. It isn¡¯t a natural phenomenon. They¡¯ve been working on this project for a long time, months at least. Even in the weeks since I first discovered this place it¡¯s changed. We¡¯ll need a lifetime to put right the damage they¡¯ve done.¡±

    The bug continued down the tunnel until it came to a fork. ¡°Which way?¡± Damien asked.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Left, I think.¡± Leah shook her head. ¡°I roamed for hours in those passages. I can¡¯t remember the exact path.¡±

    Damien shrugged and guided the construct left. If it turned out to be wrong they¡¯d just have to check the other direction.

    It took almost an hour of staring at empty tunnels before the bug reached something interesting, a walkway that ran between two pools of lava. Blood of the earth, was she talking about lava? If the molten stone ran just beneath the walls of the whole complex they were essentially walking into a death trap. One wrong blast and they¡¯d be burned to a crisp.

    ¡°Damien, what¡¯s wrong?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°Just thinking that we¡¯re walking into a live volcano and how it might be better if I just blast the place and bury them all in a magma pool.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± Leah said. ¡°If you destroy the circle our ability to fix the ley line will be greatly diminished. The flow of the earth force will be disrupted for years if not decades.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I was afraid you¡¯d say something like that.¡±

    He guided the bug across the walkway and into the tunnel beyond. After thirty feet it opened into a cavern suffused with a green glow. In the center was a rune circle surrounded by six men and women in green robes, their bodies throwing off the same light he¡¯d come to associate with druid sorcery.

    ¡°They¡¯re still moving it. After all the damage they¡¯ve caused they¡¯re still nudging the ley line further out of position.¡±

    ¡°Wait. I thought it required a full circle to move the line,¡± Damien said. ¡°They¡¯re two people short.¡±

    ¡°It takes a full circle to initiate the movement or to make a big change like the one that caused the quake, but once the ritual is underway a smaller group can keep it going. Though I¡¯d say this is the minimum they¡¯d need.¡±

    ¡°Anything else you neglected to mention?¡± Jen sounded as annoyed as he felt.

    ¡°No. I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t think it would make any difference.¡±

    ¡°Never assume anything,¡± Jen said. ¡°The smallest detail could be the one that saves our lives, or gets us killed.¡±

    Damien let the bug vanish and turned to his companions. ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything else.¡±

    Jen frowned. ¡°It¡¯s too easy. There should be guards for something this important. I can¡¯t believe they¡¯ll just let anyone walk through the front door.¡±

    ¡°Easy!¡± Leah stared at his sister, a slightly hysterical tone to her voice. ¡°They set up in the middle of nowhere. The cave is surrounded by a demon-haunted forest that would daunt any normal person assuming they could even find it. That seems like pretty good protection to me.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Jen¡¯s expression didn¡¯t soften in the least. ¡°I hope you¡¯re right, but even if you aren¡¯t the only thing we can do is move forward.¡±

    Damien surrounded both women with shields strong enough to protect them even if they should fall into a pool of magma. It took a fair chunk of his power, but he wouldn¡¯t let anything happen to either of them if he could prevent it.

    The little group left the safety of their hiding place and scrambled up the steep slope, bits of loose stone crunching under their feet. Damien went in first, his shield almost crackling with power. If there were any surprises waiting he intended to be ready. Leah followed him and Jen brought up the rear.

    The tunnel was wide enough to permit them to walk side by side, but that would have just presented a bigger target. Not that there seemed to be anyone around to attack them. No sound reached them. Nothing moved in the eerie reddish light.

    Maybe Leah was right and the renegade druids had depended on their remote location for the bulk of their defenses.

    More likely that Eleck had stripped the cave of its defenders to attack him and Jen at the temple. The preemptive strike wouldn¡¯t have been a bad idea if it had worked. Now that decision had left his base vulnerable.

 4.36

    Damien would have expected a room with two open pools of lava to be hotter. Even with his shield he should have been sweating like a pig in a room like this. Instead it was no warmer than a midsummer day, probably not even a hundred degrees. Beyond the walkway the figures of the six druids stood in the dim green light. They seemed oblivious to the intruders¡¯ presence.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t right,¡± he said.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking the same thing since we set foot in the cave,¡± Jen said. ¡°What do you want to do?¡±

    Damien conjured a ball of energy. ¡°I could kill them from here.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Leah grabbed his wrist. ¡°An explosion might damage the circle, plus they¡¯re not bad people, just weak-willed ones tricked by Eleck.¡±

    ¡°Besides, if there is a trap we¡¯ll need to deal with it so our allies can get through to repair the damage,¡± Jen said. ¡°I¡¯ll go first.¡±

    Damien stepped in front of her. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    He winced. Maybe that had been a little forceful. ¡°At least let me check it for anything obvious.¡±

    He conjured a humanoid construct and gave it twice the weight of a regular person. If there were any pressure plates or hidden tripwires the construct would set them off. If the traps were sorcerous Damien figured he would have sensed them.

    The construct clomped toward the walkway. The moment its golden foot crossed from the cave floor to the walkway the lava shifted and surged up, forming a ten-foot-tall giant of liquid stone on either side of the path. Both giants brought their fists down on the construct. The instant before they struck Damien absorbed the energy rather than have it dissipate.

    Jen glanced at him, all traces of irritation vanished. ¡°What are those things?¡±

    Damien shook his head. ¡°I have no idea. There¡¯s no corruption in them, so they¡¯re not demons. I¡¯ve never seen or heard of anything like them.¡±

    ¡°I have,¡± Leah said.

    Damien didn¡¯t dare take his eyes off the giants. So far the monsters seemed content to hold their places. ¡°Don¡¯t keep us in suspense.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re earth guardians. Our oldest scrolls describe them being used to guard important ritual sites. They¡¯re physical manifestations of the earth force, given purpose by a druid ritual. I never would have guessed Eleck possessed skill enough to accomplish such an advanced spell.¡±

    ¡°How do we kill them?¡± Jen asked. She¡¯d drawn her sword, for all the good it would do against creatures made of molten rock.

    ¡°They¡¯re not alive and therefore can¡¯t be killed.¡±

    Jen ground her teeth. ¡°You know what I mean. How do we stop them?¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°The guardians are connected directly to the earth force. They can¡¯t be stopped except by the will of the one that bound them or the destruction of the area to which they¡¯re bound.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t they attack?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°I can¡¯t say for certain, but I¡¯d guess the task Eleck gave them is to prevent access to the ritual chamber. So long as we don¡¯t try and get in they won¡¯t bother us.¡±

    ¡°Wait, how do the druids get past them?¡± Damien asked.

    Leah shrugged. ¡°A password or talisman most likely.¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll just have to ask one of the druids inside.¡±

    Jen raised an eyebrow ¡°How? We can¡¯t get in there.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to bring one of them to us.¡± Damien conjured a small sphere and sent it across the walkway.

    The guardians swung at it, but it was too fast. Half a second later it was past and flying toward the circle of druids. They were fully engrossed with the ritual and didn¡¯t even notice it approaching. Damien shifted its shape and formed a collar that he slipped around the neck of the closest druid. He crooked his finger and the collar dragged the unfortunate woman out of the circle and across the cave floor toward the walkway.

    She dug in her heels and tried to hold herself back, but she would have had a better chance stopping a horse by pushing on its chest. Damien¡¯s power was irresistible. She reached the edge of the walkway and he stopped pulling.

    ¡°Is there anything you¡¯d like to say before I yank you across?¡± he asked.

    Her jaw clenched and she remained silent. Either she was willing to die for her master or she had a talisman hidden in the folds of her green robe. Damien shrugged and pulled her across.

    The guardians never flinched as she skidded across the walkway. When she was four feet away from the group he stopped the collar and inserted a mental block into her head to stop her from lying.

    Damien smiled. Not the nice smile he used on people he liked, but the cold, humorless one that Lane said gave her chills. ¡°So, let¡¯s get right to it. How do we circumvent the guardians?¡±

    The female druid just glared at him prompting Damien to sigh. ¡°You¡¯ve got guts, I¡¯ll give you that. Do you guys think we should try torture first or should we strip her one piece at a time and keep running her past the guardians until they crush her?¡±

    ¡°I vote torture first and if that doesn¡¯t work we try stripping her.¡± Jen turned her head and winked at him. She knew the game as well as he did.

    Damien switched his attention to Leah. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°I think if you give me a minute I can probably find the talisman without torturing or stripping her.¡±

    ¡°Works for me, though it doesn¡¯t sound anywhere near as much fun.¡± Damien waved her over. ¡°Have at it.¡±

    When Leah approached, the prisoner raised her hands like she planned to fight. Damien added shackles around her wrists and ankles that held her rigid. ¡°There. Now behave yourself and maybe I won¡¯t make you test Leah¡¯s guess by running past the guardians without your talisman.¡±

    ¡°Please, sister, don¡¯t let him hurt me.¡± The woman had a pleasantly warm voice. He¡¯d expected someone willing to betray her people to sound more shrill.

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me sister. You betrayed your oath and the Green Path. The only reason I¡¯ll argue for your life is because even someone as horrid as you is a child of the path. Now be silent.¡±

    After two minutes of searching Leah pulled the prisoner¡¯s robes open and slipped a pin out of the skin beneath her left breast. ¡°This is it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°As certain as I can be without walking across the path.¡±

    Damien turned his gaze on the prisoner. ¡°Is that your talisman?¡±

    She remained silent.

    He shrugged, lifted her off the ground and floated her toward the path. Five feet short of the walkway she screamed, ¡°Yes! That¡¯s the talisman. Please stop.¡±

    He pulled her back to safety. ¡°There. Wasn¡¯t that easier?¡±

    ¡°What now?¡± Leah asked.

    ¡°Now I¡¯ll fish the rest of them out of their hole and you can find five more talismans.¡±

    ¡°What about her?¡± Leah nodded toward the prisoner. ¡°We didn¡¯t bring any rope to tie her up.¡±

    ¡°No need.¡± Jen hammered the female druid in the back of the head with the pommel of her sword. The woman went limp in her restraints and Damien let her fall to the floor. One down five to go.

 4.37

    The master had barely set the second urn on an empty shelf in his library when a green crystal bird landed on the arm of his black chair. Mikhail reached for it then caught himself. He¡¯d crushed one of Connor¡¯s messengers months ago and now he was no longer allowed to touch them with his clumsy, armored hands. His master sat and pulled the little note from the bird¡¯s mouth, his expression darkening as he scanned the tiny words.

    ¡°Damn it! Useless, pathetic druid.¡±

    ¡°Master?¡± Mikhail leaned in to try and read the note. Whatever Eleck had said it was the wrong thing.

    Connor disintegrated the slip of paper and rounded on Mikhail. ¡°I warned him there would be a price for more failures. You remember, I said no more problems. Take care of your tasks or face the consequences. That¡¯s what I told his messenger.¡±

    ¡°I remember, Master.¡±

    ¡°Now, not only has he not finished preparing the cavern, he¡¯s also failed to deal with the runaway druid girl. She¡¯s back with help from the kingdom. All the soul force eaters I gave him are dead along with most of the fire-scales. Do you know the final insult?¡±

    Mikhail took a step back. He¡¯d never seen his master in such a foul mood. ¡°No, Master.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Eleck has the unmitigated gall to ask for more help!¡± Connor grabbed the front of Mikhail¡¯s armor and yanked him down so their faces were even. Metal that had deflected some of the strongest soul force blasts Mikhail¡¯s opponents could generate crumpled under the enraged warlock¡¯s fingers. Mikhail tried to swallow and failed. ¡°And the worst part, Mikhail? I have to give it to him!¡±

    Connor hurled Mikhail across the library to slam into the far wall where he clattered to the ground like a boulder tossed into a scrap metal heap. Connor stalked across the library after him. Mikhail stumbled to his knees and touched his head to the floor. He sent a silent prayer to the Horned One that his master would control himself before he destroyed Mikhail. He held his position, eyes squeezed shut, waiting to die.

    Connor sighed and patted his arm. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, Mikhail. I shouldn¡¯t have taken my frustration out on you. It¡¯s just you¡¯re the only thing here I didn¡¯t fear breaking.¡±

    Mikhail risked looking up. Connor stared down at him with his glowing red eyes and a hint of a smile playing about his lips. ¡°It¡¯s okay, I¡¯m over it now.¡±

    He grabbed Mikhail by his shoulder armor and jerked him to his feet with one hand. Connor brushed his breastplate and the twisted metal straightened and smoothed out like nothing had happened.

    Mikhail managed to work some spit into his dry mouth. ¡°What will you do, Master?¡±

    The great warlock sighed again. ¡°I¡¯ll send the idiot help. He has a job to finish after all. Once the ley lines are in the proper position, however, it will be necessary to punish him for his constant failures. Him and all his useless tribe. You understand, Mikhail?¡±

    A slow smile spread under Mikhail¡¯s helm. ¡°I understand, Master. When the task is finished¡± ¡ªMikhail dragged his thumb across his throat¡ª ¡°everybody dies.¡±

 4.38

    Damien looked at the pile of unconscious rebel druids lying on the floor in the corner of the cave. They¡¯d stripped the prisoners of their protective talismans and any weapons they carried. Damien had been surprised by just how few there were: three unimpressive daggers and a pair of eating knives, not exactly an arsenal.

    He, Jen, and Leah each wore one of the talismans pinned through their clothes so they had nothing to fear from the guardians. The remaining pins were safe in Jen¡¯s belt pouch. That only left one question. ¡°So what now?¡± He looked from Leah to Jen, but neither of them spoke. ¡°Are we done?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Leah said. ¡°We need to hunt down Eleck and his final servant. We need all the talismans so another full circle can use the ritual to set the lines back in their proper place.¡±

    ¡°That might be tricky,¡± Jen said. ¡°All your people think we¡¯re the enemy. They may try and protect Eleck. If that happens some of them might get hurt.¡±

    That was an understatement. Jen¡¯s sword and Damien¡¯s attacks weren¡¯t especially discriminatory if it came to fighting in a crowd. They could kill Eleck easy enough. Damien had taken the measure of his power back in the central chamber. The black rings were strong, but nothing Damien couldn¡¯t handle.

    ¡°What if we wait here?¡± Leah said. ¡°Eleck¡¯s bound to show up sooner or later.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± Jen rubbed her face. ¡°We have no food, no water, and no idea when he might arrive. The cave is a good defensive position, but with no supplies, it¡¯s useless to us.¡±

    ¡°What about these idiots?¡± Damien asked. ¡°They must have had something to eat and drink.¡±

    ¡°Maybe not.¡± Leah paced around the room. ¡°The earth force from the ritual would have sustained them as long as they remained inside the circle. Still, it couldn¡¯t hurt to take a look around.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    They crossed the walkway without attracting much interest from the guardians. The green glow from the ritual circle was slowly dying. Damien conjured a handful of lights and scattered them around the chamber. It was much bigger than he expected. Perhaps three hundred yards across and so high he couldn¡¯t make out the ceiling. They spread out and searched the whole chamber.

    Half an hour later they regrouped. Damien hadn¡¯t found anything besides dust. Judging from the gray covering on her cloak Leah hadn¡¯t fared any better. Jen on the other hand had six packs dangling from her hands.

    ¡°Anything in them?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Not much. Enough food and water to see us back to the village, but nothing beyond that.¡± They shared dried fruit and jerky and each drained a half-full water skin. Enough food remained for one more small meal and then they were out of luck.

    ¡°We need to get out of here and back to town,¡± Damien said. ¡°Can¡¯t the wise one announce that Eleck¡¯s a traitor and we didn¡¯t kidnap him?¡±

    ¡°He seldom speaks directly with the people,¡± Leah said. ¡°Usually Eleck or I speak in his place. Since they all know I brought you to the village, no one would believe me if I spoke against Eleck. They might even think we¡¯d forced the wise one to say what we wanted him to.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± Damien said. ¡°So we¡¯re right back where we started. At least we have the talismans so no one can resume the ritual.¡±

    ¡°Actually,¡± Leah said. ¡°Since Eleck still has two talismans, they can take turns crossing the path and tossing it back so the next pair can cross. I¡¯m afraid as long as even one of the talismans is out of our control the danger remains.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it! I¡¯m going to hunt Eleck down and end this.¡± Damien spun on his heel and stalked toward the exit.

    Leah chased after him. ¡°Please, the villagers are innocent. I beg you not to hurt them.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best, but this needs to stop and the sooner the better.¡±

    Jen poked one of the renegades with her toe. ¡°What about this lot? They¡¯ve certainly earned a quick death for their part in the quake.¡±

    ¡°Fine with me.¡± Damien took two more steps then paused, remembering his conversation with the wise one. ¡°Without their talismans they¡¯re harmless. Why don¡¯t we just leave them for now?¡±

    Leah offered him a smile, while Jen frowned. Damien knew as well as his sister that sparing the renegades¡¯ lives went against their training, but in the end she followed them without commenting. Damien said a silent prayer that his generosity wouldn¡¯t bite them in the ass later.

 4.39

    Eleck tried to swallow and failed. The hulking presence of the black knight had his throat as dry as any desert. When he¡¯d asked Master Connor for reinforcements he¡¯d devoutly hoped for almost anything other than the unstable man in black. The four red-scales standing at his side seemed like wholly inadequate protection. A good ten feet from them Delia trembled like a leaf in a stiff breeze. He knew just how she felt. It was only with a great effort of will that his own knees didn¡¯t knock.

    They stood just outside the corrupted forest looking up at the cave that served as the entrance to Eleck¡¯s base. He could remember a time when walking through the demon-haunted stretch of woods had twisted his heart and made him question everything he was doing.

    Now the dead trees and ash served as nothing but a nuisance to be gotten through as quickly as possible. Eleck was damned and no amount of feeling sorry for himself would change his fate. It astonished him that he could still interact with the earth force at all. Not that it should have. The energy flow didn¡¯t care who he was or what he had done. It had no will or sense of morality. It simply was.

    ¡°Where are the rest?¡± the knight asked. ¡°I was under the impression there were more than two of you.¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°The others are up in the cave, sir. It¡¯s necessary for the bulk of my acolytes to remain at the ritual circle to keep the power flowing.¡±

    A hollow grunt from behind the mask. ¡°Then they are most likely dead. Your enemies beat us here and one of them is very strong. I can sense his soul force from here.¡±

    Eleck¡¯s mind raced. If his acolytes were dead how would he complete the project? And if he couldn¡¯t complete the project how would he convince Connor to spare him? The answer was as plain as the skull on the knight¡¯s breastplate. He couldn¡¯t.

    ¡°Can you complete the master¡¯s task without your servants?¡± the knight asked.

    ¡°Of course, sir. But first we need to evict the trespassers.¡±

    Delia tugged on his robe. ¡°How, Master?¡±

    ¡°Shut up and do not speak again.¡±

    ¡°What is the worm mewling about?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, sir. She¡¯s just worried about her friends.¡± Eleck prayed to any and all powers that the black knight would believe him. The helmed head nodded and Eleck¡¯s heart slowed to something approaching normal.

    ¡°You are fortunate that I¡¯m here.¡± The knight flexed the fingers on his scaled hand. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking forward to meeting this enemy again.¡±

    Eleck blinked. ¡°You know our enemies?¡±

    ¡°One of them at least. He cost me a great deal. Killing him will make this trip worth my time.¡±

    Eleck tried to imagine who would be stupid enough to challenge the armored giant. Whoever it was must have a death wish.

 4.40

    Damien, Jen, and Leah were almost to the mouth of the cave when he sensed it. A towering darkness he¡¯d felt once before far to the south. Mikhail Santen was out there. Alone or otherwise Damien couldn¡¯t say. His power overwhelmed everything else in the area.

    ¡°Stop.¡±

    Jen had moved into the lead as he slowed. She paused and turned back. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve got company waiting for us outside.¡±

    ¡°Eleck?¡± Leah sounded both angry and nervous.

    ¡°Maybe, but if he¡¯s out there he¡¯s not alone. The black knight is here for sure.¡±

    Jen reached for her sword. ¡°Santen? What¡¯s he doing here?¡±

    ¡°I suspect Connor dispatched him to kill us so Eleck could return to work, but that¡¯s just a guess. It doesn¡¯t make much difference, he¡¯s here and there¡¯ll be blood before we¡¯re done. He isn¡¯t the sort you can reason with.¡±

    Jen had her sword clenched in one fist. ¡°That¡¯s the impression I got as well. How do you want to handle this?¡±

    ¡°Alone.¡± Damien raised a hand to forestall her argument. ¡°It¡¯s going to take everything I have just to stay even with him. I can¡¯t spare anything to shield you two.¡±

    Jen¡¯s jaw tightened, but she didn¡¯t argue. Damien knew she¡¯d seen Mikhail¡¯s power firsthand. That made a better argument than anything he could have said. ¡°Let¡¯s at least take a look before we make any decisions.¡±

    They covered the last couple hundred yards and peeked out the mouth of the cave. Mikhail loomed large at the edge of the rocky slope. Eleck and a woman stood behind him, four red-scales flanking the druids. The woman cowered away from the black knight, a perfectly sensible reaction for a normal person to the monster that was Mikhail Santen. They ducked back inside.

    ¡°Who¡¯s the girl?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°Her name¡¯s Delia.¡± Leah chewed her lip. ¡°She must be the last member of Eleck¡¯s circle. I know her. We studied the Green Path together as beginning druids. I can¡¯t believe she¡¯d betray us.¡±

    Jen shook her head. ¡°Eleck for me, Mikhail for you?¡±

    Damien nodded. He hated to have his sister fighting Eleck alone, but he couldn¡¯t handle the druid and his black rings at the same time as Mikhail. ¡°Deal. Just be careful.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Jen grinned. ¡°I can handle him. Eleck might have power, but he¡¯s no warrior.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to Delia.¡± Leah clenched her fists. ¡°Maybe I can convince her to give up her talisman without a fight.¡±

    ¡°As long as she¡¯s close to Eleck you need to keep your distance,¡± Jen said. ¡°I can¡¯t fight him if I¡¯m worried about you.¡±

    She didn¡¯t look happy, but Leah nodded.

    ¡°You in there, boy?¡± Mikhail¡¯s deep, booming voice echoed through the cave. ¡°Thought we might have a rematch.¡±

    ¡°Stay out of sight until I draw him away.¡± Damien reabsorbed the power from the women¡¯s shields and stepped into the cave mouth. He¡¯d need every drop of power to fight Mikhail. He raised his voice. ¡°If it isn¡¯t the greengrocer. Found a new arm I see. Not exactly human, but better than nothing I suppose. No horse this time?¡±

    Damien flew up into the twilit sky. If Mikhail had to fight from the ground it would give Damien a huge advantage.

    It seemed it wasn¡¯t going to be his day for advantages. A dark aura surrounded Mikhail and he leapt into the sky. Black flames gathered around his monstrous blade a moment before they streaked at Damien.

    He dodged and cut them off at their power source with a blast of soul force before they snaked back at him. At least Mikhail hadn¡¯t learned any new tricks since their last battle.

    They zipped through the dim sky, Mikhail blasting and Damien dodging and countering. Damien had the oddest feeling of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. Did Mikhail imagine he could win this time fighting the exact same way as last time, when he lost? Damien hoped so. It would certainly make his job easier.

    ¡°Hold still, damn you!¡± Mikhail roared.

    ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be very smart.¡± Damien blasted him in the chest with enough force to send Mikhail wobbling off course and dent his armor. That was an improvement over last time. It seemed his breastplate was weaker than last time. Either that or Mikhail wasn¡¯t spending as much power on defense.

    The thought barely crossed his mind before twin streams of black flame came pouring off his opponent¡¯s blade, attacking him from left and right at the same time.

    Damien dropped straight down, the rivers of fire roaring over his head, missing it by inches.

    Now that was a new trick. When Damien tried to sever the connection between flames and sword Mikhail repaired them before the blast passed all the way through.

    Damien frowned. Maybe Mikhail had learned some new techniques after all.

    He flew a zigzagging path through the sky, the flames never more than a foot or two off his heels. Thinking while flying for your life was harder than Damien had expected. He spun and flew straight at Mikhail. Damien wasn¡¯t optimistic, but it would be great fun to burn the black knight with his own flames.

    Damien whizzed past Mikhail. He did a split to avoid losing a foot to his opponent¡¯s black sword. As he feared the flames simply separated and flowed around their master. Damien took the moment¡¯s reprieve to blast Mikhail in his armored back to no effect. The back plate appeared stronger than the front.

    A third stream of flames brought his train of thought to an abrupt halt. All Damien could think about now was not getting incinerated.

    Damien spun around the third stream and winced when the talisman pinned to his tunic poked him through the fabric. He risked a glance at the ground. Jen was busy fighting Eleck.

    Good. The cave should be empty. Damien had an idea, but Leah wouldn¡¯t like it.

 4.41

    When the first blast shattered the silence Jen poked her head out of the cave. Damien and Mikhail raced through the sky, exchanging blasts and generally scaring the hell out of the poor mortals on the ground.

    Speaking of which, half a mile away, Eleck was watching the aerial battle with rapt attention. If she was quick maybe she could cut him down before he was even aware she was there. Jen looked up at her brother battling in the air. Heaven¡¯s mercy, she wished there was some way to help him, but she couldn¡¯t fly and they were three hundred feet above the ground. All she could do was trust him and take care of her part of the plan.

    The crunch of gravel brought her back to reality. Leah was climbing down the slope and easing toward Eleck and the girl. Damn the woman! She was supposed to wait until Jen had drawn Eleck away.

    Well, there was nothing for it now.

    Jen drew power and accelerated toward Eleck and Delia. It would take Leah at least five minutes to cross the rough ground, maybe more. That should give Jen plenty of time to deal with Eleck. Boulders zipped by her as she ran at warlord speed across the desolate terrain.

    She drew her sword back as she got close. Eleck must have sensed her. Just before her blade would have taken his head off he shoved one of the red-scales in her path. Jen cut the creature in half, skidded to a stop, and spun.

    A burst of flames from one of the three remaining monsters forced her to sprint further away from her main target. When the torrent of flame stopped she kicked off and lunged, running the out-of-breath creature through.

    Using her sword as a lever she twisted the dead red-scale between her and Eleck. Black flames disintegrated the monster while Jen raced away, her hopes of a quick kill dashed. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Delia hiding behind the trunk of a twisted tree, the whites of her eyes showing all around her dilated pupils. The woman looked so terrified Jen doubted she could take a step.

    She dodged flames from a red-scale and leapt over a blast from Eleck. She needed to take out the monsters so she could focus on the druid.

    Jen put on a burst of speed and hacked one of the remaining red-scales from shoulder to hip. It fell in two pieces, but she didn¡¯t stay still long enough to enjoy her partial victory. Flames, both black and crimson, filled the air. Only Jen¡¯s accelerated perceptions allowed her to stay a step ahead of them.

    Her break came when Eleck doubled over clutching his hands together and moaning. Jen slipped past the druid and sent the last monster¡¯s head sailing off into the night.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.She spun to face the druid. Eleck sat on the dead earth, his twisted black hands in his lap. It didn¡¯t look like he had any fight left in him. Jen laid the edge of her sword on his neck. It would only take a flick of her wrist to cut his throat if he tried anything.

    ¡°You may as well kill me,¡± Eleck said, his voice strained with pain and fear. ¡°I can¡¯t use the rings anymore and the black knight will surely finish me in a much more painful way than you.¡±

    Jen would have been happy to grant his wish, but first she¡¯d wait and find out how her brother did with Mikhail. If they could get Eleck out of here alive he could tell them about Connor.

    ¡°No, Master!¡± The girl, Delia, finally gathered the courage to step out of her hiding place.

    Eleck waved a hand and Jen pressed her sword harder into his neck. ¡°Best keep those hands still.¡±

    Eleck let his hand fall back into his lap. ¡°It¡¯s all right, Delia. I¡¯ve earned death many times over. How did it all go so wrong?¡±

    ¡°How did you think it would end when you took up with a warlock?¡± Jen shook her head. ¡°Did you imagine if you obeyed, Connor would shake your hand and that would be that? You seem like a reasonably intelligent man so I can¡¯t believe you were that stupid.¡±

    Eleck barked a laugh. ¡°I was exactly that stupid. Connor told me what I wanted to hear and I let myself believe it.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Leah had finally reached them. Tears streaked her face and her voice trembled. ¡°You would have taken Grandfather¡¯s place when his time ended. You would have led our people, been Wise One, if you had just waited.¡±

    ¡°I was sick of waiting. Sick of listening to your grandfather¡¯s lectures and sermons. Sick of being told to be patient. I was sick of all of it.¡± He blew out a great sigh and held up his blackened hands. ¡°Now I¡¯m just sick.¡±

    ¡°Take off your rings and talisman,¡± Jen said. She looked to Delia. ¡°You too.¡±

    Delia clutched her hands to her chest, but made no effort to remove anything.

    ¡°Please, Delia,¡± Leah said. ¡°If you don¡¯t give it to her she¡¯ll take it.¡±

    Eleck tossed a silver pin on the ground at her feet, but when he tried to tug one of the black rings off it wouldn¡¯t budge. The metal had fused to his flesh. ¡°I¡¯m afraid the rings aren¡¯t going anywhere.¡± He held them out to prove it.

    Jen¡¯s sword swished through the air and the fingers on Eleck¡¯s twisted hands clattered to the ground.

    ¡°Master!¡±

    Jen leveled her sword at Delia. ¡°Your talisman, now.¡±

    ¡°Delia, please.¡± Leah was crying openly. ¡°No one else has to die tonight.¡±

    Jen wasn¡¯t entirely certain that was true, but she decided to give Leah a chance to persuade the woman. Eleck sat staring at his maimed hands. They didn¡¯t even bleed, not really. A few drops of some black fluid oozed out to sizzle on the stones in front of him. Jen might have been doing him a favor if she killed him at this point.

    Delia ripped a silver pin that was a twin to the one Eleck wore from the inside of her robe and threw it at Jen. ¡°Take it!¡±

    She scrambled over to Eleck. ¡°Master, are you okay?¡±

    Eleck looked from his hands to the woman. ¡°It didn¡¯t even hurt. I feel nothing below my elbows.¡±

    Jen gathered up the talismans and kicked the rings a safe distance from her prisoners. She¡¯d let Damien deal with them when he finished with Mikhail.

    ¡°What happens now?¡± Leah asked.

    Jen looked up. Damien was flying towards the cave mouth, Mikhail in hot pursuit. They both vanished into the mountain.

    ¡°Now we wait to see who comes back out. If it¡¯s my brother we celebrate. If it¡¯s Mikhail we run.¡±

 4.42

    Damien raced through the cave mouth half a second ahead of a blast that shook the mountain. He¡¯d been so busy dodging for his life Damien hadn¡¯t had a chance to study his opponent¡¯s remaining energy, but if the rate at which Mikhail was pouring hellfire at him was any indication, he wasn¡¯t getting low. Maybe he had so much power because he wasn¡¯t wasting any of it maintaining a mount. Damien had dared hope that without a horse Mikhail wouldn¡¯t be able to fly. He¡¯d been quickly reminded of the value of hopes.

    A stream of fire seared his shield, but didn¡¯t do any damage. Damien grimaced. He still had plenty of power, but he wanted to save it for one last attack. If his plan worked, maybe he could rid the world of the monster on his tail.

    He darted around a corner ahead of a splash of flame. Not far now. He rounded another corner and the glow from the lava pools filled the air ahead of him. Finally.

    Damien flashed past the pools and the unconscious druids. The guardians had sunk back into their dormant state and since he had on one of the talismans they didn¡¯t rise up. He flew into the ritual chamber and spun to face Mikhail. The black knight stood a few steps from the path between the guardians. It looked like Mikhail had used around three quarters of his power.

    Damien grinned. His opponent had no notion of how to hold back. Ordinarily that probably served him well, but against someone who had a passing understanding of tactics, it made Mikhail woefully easy to predict. Unfortunately for Damien, knowing what he was going to do didn¡¯t make beating him much easier.

    ¡°You¡¯re out of places to run, worm.¡± Mikhail said. Flames dripped from his blade to sizzle on the stone floor.

    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you come get me, greengrocer?¡± Damien flew up toward the ceiling out of Mikhail¡¯s view and said a little prayer that he wouldn¡¯t just flood the whole chamber with hellfire.

    The clank of iron boots on stone reached Damien¡¯s ears followed by a roar. Spurts of hellfire flickered in the chamber opening. Damien flew down and out the cave mouth. Mikhail was flailing at the guardians, his sword cutting them to pieces and the lava guardians reforming just as fast.

    Liquid stone engulfed Mikhail from the waist down and struggle as he might the black knight couldn¡¯t free himself. Damien allowed himself a moment¡¯s amusement.

    ¡°When I get free you¡¯re dead, worm,¡± Mikhail roared. ¡°No tricks will save you from my wrath!¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Did Mikhail have any idea how pretentious he sounded? Probably not, as he always seemed to talk that way. ¡°What do you think would happen if I dropped a mountain on your head?¡±

    Mikhail stopped struggling for a moment. ¡°What?¡±

    Damien drew all but a fraction of his remaining power. If there was lava running through the walls the main pool had to be fairly close to the surface. He fired a blast at the floor and another at the ceiling.

    The cavern trembled.

    Huge boulders fell from the ceiling and bubbling magma erupted from the floor.

    It was time for Damien to go. He shot a little salute at Mikhail, wrapped the unconscious druids in a bubble, and raced for the exit.

    All around him lava burst from the walls. Some spattered his shield, but none penetrated.

    The roar of tons of falling stone pained his ears until he could hear nothing but the mountain¡¯s death. Ahead of him he caught a glimpse of the night sky. With a final burst of speed he shot out of the cave. Damien spun and watched the mountain collapse in on itself.

    The jagged peak trembled then burst as lava spewed into the sky. All along the ground cracks opened and magma oozed out.

    Maybe he¡¯d overdone it a bit.

    He spotted Jen and Leah still far too close to the crumbling mountain. Damien drew from his badly diminished core and scooped his sister and the others up in a bubble. When they were far enough away to be safe Damien shifted the bubble into a platform and landed beside Jen.

    ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡± He put his arm around her shoulders.

    Before Jen could answer Leah ran over and grabbed his tunic. ¡°What have you done? I told you not to destroy the circle. Now it will take years if not decades to repair the damage to the ley line.¡±

    Damien frowned. ¡°But you can still do it, right?¡±

    She blinked and stared at him. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°If I¡¯d lost and Mikhail had killed you all, how long would it take to repair the damage?¡±

    She slumped down to the platform. ¡°I take your point.¡±

    Damien watched the magma ooze towards the corrupted forest. ¡°This may work out better in the long run anyway. The lava will burn away the tainted earth and leave the forest healthier.¡±

    ¡°What about us?¡± Delia asked.

    ¡°If it was up to me, I¡¯d drop you both in the lava, but we¡¯ll let the wise one decide your fate. You lot no longer seem like much of a threat.¡±

    Eleck stared up at him, the stumps of his hands held like a supplicant. ¡°What will become of me?¡±

    Damien studied his soul force. The bulk of the corruption was below his elbows, but some had worked its way further. ¡°If I amputate your arms at mid-biceps, you have a chance of surviving. If you do nothing you¡¯ll be dead in a week.¡±

    Eleck chuckled without humor. ¡°Your bedside manner is appalling.¡±

    Damien shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not a healer. Truth is I¡¯m surprised Jen let you live.¡± He glanced at Delia. ¡°Either of you.¡±

    Jen shook her head and smiled. ¡°Just following your example. Without the rings or talismans they¡¯re no threat. Perhaps the wise one will want to make an example of them. Hang them in the public square from some of those roots he¡¯s got everywhere. Either way I think our work is done here. Let¡¯s drop them off and go home.¡±

 4.43

    Damien and Jen flew along in a bubble above the Great Green on their way back to the capital. They¡¯d spent another night in the temple at the wise one¡¯s insistence. The wise one had decided, for whatever reason, to spare Eleck and the others. Letting them run around loose seemed like a poor notion to Damien, but it wasn¡¯t up to him. Damien had sliced Eleck¡¯s arms clean off just below the shoulder. He felt pretty confident that he¡¯d burned out all the corruption.

    They¡¯d spent an hour talking with the fallen druid, getting all the details¡ªat least all the details Eleck had¡ªabout Connor¡¯s plans. The truth was he didn¡¯t know much beyond the fact that the warlock wanted him to create a conjunction of ley lines in that huge cavern so he could draw on the deep well of power. What Connor wanted all that power for Eleck had no idea, though Damien doubted it was for anything good.

    Eleck had also provided them with rough directions to Connor¡¯s base in the Crescent Mountains. Though he¡¯d only been there once and wasn¡¯t exactly sure how to get back to it. Even without exact directions, as long as they could get close, any competent sorcerer would sense Connor¡¯s corruption. Damien was pretty sure the archmage would be pleased when he gave his report.

    ¡°What are you smiling about?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°I was just thinking that all things considered our mission went pretty well. It would be great if Uncle Andy let us work together more often. We complement each other really well.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve thought the same thing. Isn¡¯t it strange how seldom sorcerers and warlords team up? Every time I¡¯ve worked with a sorcerer, either you or Master Shen, my missions have ended in success, more or less.¡±

    ¡°I will admit that when we go after Connor I¡¯m not sure I want you to come. He¡¯s going to be even stronger than Mikhail and I¡¯m not certain how you could fight him from the ground.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, some enemies are simply beyond a warlord, but if you tell Dad I said that I¡¯ll deny it. Speaking of enemies, have you decided what you¡¯re going to tell Karrie?¡±

    Damien groaned. He¡¯d done his level best to forget about the unreasonable princess, but now that they were finished with their mission he couldn¡¯t put it off much longer. ¡°I don¡¯t know. What do you think? I could be king and you can be my champion.¡±

    They both laughed at that. If there was something that needed fighting and Damien couldn¡¯t handle it they would both be in trouble. His good mood vanished as quickly as it arrived. He really did need to tell her something.

    Audra didn¡¯t spend that much time in the throne room with Uncle Andy. If Karrie were willing to handle the politics and let him spend his time in the field it might not be so bad. She¡¯d get what she wanted and he wouldn¡¯t have to do anything he didn¡¯t like. If that suited her he might just take her up on the offer. Since Lizzy didn¡¯t seem to mind everyone would end up happy, or at least content.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    The capital appeared on the horizon a little after midday. From so far away the damage didn¡¯t look quite as bad. Damien knew it was just an illusion. There¡¯d be no shortage of work once they dealt with Connor.

    He landed the bubble in the castle courtyard. Guards and workers were scrambling around on various errands. A Crimson Legionnaire waved at Damien from her place on the battlements. If you concentrated on the castle and ignored the rest of the city everything looked pretty normal.

    ¡°Want to try the throne room first?¡± Damien asked. ¡°If my master is there we can make one report and have it over with.¡±

    Jen shrugged. ¡°Fine with me.¡±

    They¡¯d barely taken a step when the castle doors slammed open and Sig stormed out. What the hell was that idiot doing in the capital? Damien had enough to handle without that fool getting underfoot.

    Sig stalked straight toward them, his power crackling around his body. Damien increased the power to his shield just to be safe. He doubted Sig would start something in the castle courtyard, but on the other hand the giant from the north wasn¡¯t exactly known for his prudence.

    Sig stopped three feet from Damien and Jen. Damien raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sig. Something I can do for you?¡±

    ¡°Die slowly, gnawed by a thousand ice trolls.¡±

    Damien winced. ¡°I think I¡¯ll pass on that, thanks. Who put the bug up your ass?¡±

    Sig snarled. ¡°She¡¯s mine. Do you understand? Mine!¡±

    Damien and Jen shared a look. ¡°Could you run through that one more time, with clarity?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Princess Karrie. I know you¡¯re engaged to be married. I won¡¯t let you get away with it. I¡¯m more worthy to be king than a runt like you. I¡¯ll kill you and claim her for myself.¡±

    Damien had only heard every other word after ¡°engaged.¡± What made Sig think they were engaged? He¡¯d never even answered her. Damien slowly clenched his fists. Whether he married her or not, loved her or not, he wouldn¡¯t let anyone treat the princess like some side of meat for the dogs to fight over.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how it¡¯s any of your business who Karrie marries. And she certainly doesn¡¯t belong to you or me for that matter. She¡¯s her own person free to choose as she wishes.¡±

    Sig backhanded him hard enough to make Damien take a step back, more from shock than pain. ¡°I challenge you to a sorcerers¡¯ duel to the death!¡± Sig shouted. ¡°The princess will have no choice but to acknowledge the survivor as the better mate. And that will be me.¡±

    Damien stared at Sig for a moment. He couldn¡¯t have heard right. ¡°You¡¯re challenging me to a duel?¡±

    ¡°Yes, damn you. Name the time and place of your death.¡±

    Damien shook his head. This had to be a joke. He expected John and Karrie to run out any moment and yell ¡°Surprise!¡±

    When no one appeared after several seconds it became clear Sig wasn¡¯t joking. It seemed an extravagant way to kill himself, but who was Damien to question it? ¡°Noon tomorrow, halfway between the tree line and north gate.¡±

    ¡°Fine! Enjoy your last night breathing.¡± Sig leapt into the air and flew away.

    ¡°He¡¯s insane,¡± Jen said. ¡°Are you really going to fight him?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ll see what Uncle Andy, the duke, and my master have to say about it. Then I think I need to talk to Karrie.¡±

 4.44

    Darkness surrounded Mikhail. He couldn¡¯t breathe or move. There was no sound and all he smelled was scorched earth mingled with sulfur. He feared, feared for the first time since abandoning his mortal self, that the intense heat would consume him. Mikhail never should have doubted the master¡¯s power. Despite the pain his armor had kept him alive.

    The boy had tricked him again. Twice he¡¯d lost to a mere whelp. A child! If the heat didn¡¯t kill him the embarrassment might. He let the anger rise and pushed out with hellfire. His left arm came free and soon after his right popped free as the dark fire carved out a pocket of space around him. In less than a minute Mikhail¡¯s body was free of its stone tomb.

    He straightened his legs and banged his head on the stone above. The tiny space he¡¯d made for himself was barely adequate. He¡¯d lost his sword somewhere in the earth. Mikhail didn¡¯t care how long it took, he wouldn¡¯t leave until he regained it. Bad enough the master had had to provide him a new arm, he wouldn¡¯t return without his weapon.

    Mikhail concentrated and soon sensed the blade. It was as much a part of him as his hand or foot and every bit as important, maybe more important. He followed the connection, burning away earth and stone until after an unknowable time he reached the hilt of his weapon. Mikhail grabbed it and ripped it free of the confining rock. Now he felt whole again. There remained the task of burning his way free. He had no idea how deep his tomb was.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Mikhail growled in the back of his throat. He would kill the boy next time. There was no question of it.

    He raised his black sword and flames poured forth. Foot by agonizing foot Mikhail rose through the crumbly black stone. Hours later, exhausted and nearly drained of soul force, the tip of his sword burst through the outer crust of the lava field. Mikhail smashed the last of the stone away and climbed out.

    All around him looked like a scene from the end of the world. Black, still-warm stone covered everything. The mountain where the weak druid and his servants worked had collapsed into a pile of rubble. He would give the boy this much credit: when he destroyed something he did a thorough job. Mikhail appreciated that.

    He turned first toward the druid village then back north to the master¡¯s library. Conflicting desires warred in him. Mikhail badly wanted to slaughter the villagers, but he also needed to hurry back and warn the master that his enemies may now know where his library was hidden.

    Mikhail willed himself into the air and grimaced. He hated flying without a proper mount, it was beneath his dignity as a knight, but he had to do what he had to do. Mikhail turned north. The villagers would have to wait.

 4.45

    Damien watched Sig fly off and shook his head. What had he gotten himself into? Or more accurately what had Karrie gotten him into? Sig was a problem for later. For now the king needed to know what had happened.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t the sort of greeting I expected,¡± Jen said as they walked toward the castle.

    Damien shrugged. ¡°Whoever expects to be challenged to a duel to the death?¡±

    The guards opened the outer doors for them and Damien nodded as they strode past.

    Jen glanced his way. ¡°I wonder whatever possessed Karrie to tell that idiot you agreed to marry her.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an excellent question. After we finish talking to Uncle Andy and my master I intend to find out.¡±

    The next set of guards opened the door to the throne room. The king sat on his throne, the archmage on one side and the captain of the guard on the other. Damien had expected to see his father, but there was no sign of the king¡¯s champion. Instead a giant of a man in blue and white fur-trimmed robes waited in front of the throne and a little to the left. Damien didn¡¯t know the man, but judging from his size and dress he was probably Sig¡¯s father. This could be awkward.

    Damien and Jen stopped ten feet from the throne and bowed. ¡°Majesty, we¡¯ve completed our mission,¡± Jen said.

    ¡°Report,¡± Uncle Andy said.

    Between them Jen and Damien gave a full accounting of the past few days. When they finished his master was smiling her evil smile. ¡°Now we know where to find the son of a bitch. I¡¯ll need two days to assemble a strike force. With your permission, my king.¡±

    Uncle Andy nodded. ¡°By all means. The sooner we can put an end to Connor Blackman the better I¡¯ll feel.¡±

    The archmage bowed and hurried out to, Damien assumed, send messages to both The Tower and whatever other sorcerers she might need. He hadn¡¯t seen her so eager in weeks. Not that he blamed her¡ªnow that they had a solid lead on the warlock¡¯s location they needed to act. That made Sig¡¯s challenge seem even more of a waste of effort.

    ¡°There¡¯s one other thing, Your Majesty,¡± Damien said.

    ¡°It¡¯s about my son, right?¡± the big man said.

    Damien glanced his way. ¡°You¡¯re Sig¡¯s father?¡±

    He nodded and the king said, ¡°Damien, this is Duke Iceborn. He came south to thank you for what you did in the war last winter.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Nice to meet you, my lord.¡± Damien bowed to the duke. He wanted to ask how he raised such an ass of a son, but that didn¡¯t seem politic. ¡°Sig just challenged me to a sorcerers¡¯ duel to the death.¡±

    The duke flinched and made a strangled sound. ¡°What did you say?¡±

    ¡°I accepted, of course. Tomorrow at noon between the forest and the north gate.¡±

    Uncle Andy sighed and shook his head. ¡°I know Sig made the challenge and not you, but would you mind backing out?¡±

    Damien cocked his head. He didn¡¯t especially care about Sig one way or the other, but he didn¡¯t want to have to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, especially since Sig would eventually become a duke. If the king made it a direct order he would have to, but Uncle Andy made it sound like it was his choice.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how I can and retain my honor. He struck me in front of a courtyard full of witnesses. If I back down it will make me seem a coward.¡±

    The duke grabbed his arm and spun Damien around to face him. ¡°Please. I know my son can be difficult and overly proud, but I love him. Please show him mercy.¡±

    The show of fatherly warmth surprised Damien. It appeared even Sig had at least one person that would miss him. Damien sighed. ¡°Do you have another child, my lord?¡±

    The duke flinched and Damien understood how he might have misinterpreted the question. ¡°I have a daughter, three years younger than Sig. Why?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll make a bargain with you. You must know Sig lacks the temperament to be a good ruler. If you name your daughter your heir I won¡¯t kill Sig in the duel tomorrow.¡±

    Everyone in the room stared at him.

    When he regained the ability to speak the duke said, ¡°You want me to disinherit my son?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what he inherits as long as it isn¡¯t authority. Bad as he is now, can you imagine Sig with real power? I don¡¯t say this to be cruel, but he¡¯s a bully and as a duke he¡¯d be a nightmare. In your heart you must know what I say is true.¡±

    The duke groaned. ¡°I do know it. I¡¯ve known for years Sigurd wasn¡¯t suited to rule the north, I just lacked the courage to do anything about it. I accept your terms. I¡¯ll name Ingrid my heir and you back out of the duel with Sig.¡±

    ¡°No. I said I wouldn¡¯t kill him and I won¡¯t. But I can¡¯t let him insult the princess and strike me in public. If he gets away with it once he might do it again. And I swear if he touches me again it will be the last time he touches anyone.¡±

    The duke hung his head. ¡°So be it. Excuse me, my king.¡±

    The duke slunk out of the throne room like a whipped dog. When he¡¯d gone the king said, ¡°That wasn¡¯t terribly diplomatic, Damien.¡±

    Jen swatted his shoulder. ¡°Bargaining with a duke, that¡¯s rather bold, little brother.¡±

    Damien looked from one to the other. ¡°I thought I was pretty generous. By law I¡¯m within my rights to simply kill Sig in the duel tomorrow. That would have eliminated him as heir and threat in one go. I figured offering the deal would put the duke in your debt. Should I have just killed him?¡±

    ¡°No, Damien.¡± Uncle Andy shook his head. ¡°What you did wasn¡¯t the real problem, it was the way you did it. Offering a bargain then dictating the terms to a man as powerful as Duke Iceborn was rude. He¡¯s used to a more subtle touch.¡±

    This was why Damien hated politics. ¡°I¡¯m not good at subtle. I prefer direct and honest. Unless you need me for anything I have to talk to Karrie.¡±

    Uncle Andy waved his hand. ¡°You¡¯ve got a busy day tomorrow. Take the rest of the day to rest. Outstanding work, both of you.¡±

    They both bowed and left the throne room.

    When the doors had closed behind them Jen grinned. ¡°I wonder what Karrie will have to say.¡±

 4.46

    Karrie paced and chewed her lip. John was right, if she kept this up she¡¯d wear a hole in the rug, but she was too nervous to sit still. A servant had just left after informing her of Damien¡¯s return. It also seemed he¡¯d run into Sig on his way in and they had a confrontation. Sig must have told Damien what she said. He was probably furious.

    Someone knocked and she spun to face the door. From the sewing room her mother said, ¡°Get that, won¡¯t you, dear?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mom.¡± She straightened her hair and dress, took a breath, and opened it. Damien leaned in the doorway, a little frown on his face. He didn¡¯t look furious, but he didn¡¯t look happy either. ¡°Hi.¡±

    ¡°Hi. Got a minute?¡±

    She stepped aside and waved him in. Karrie went over to the couch and he sat beside her. She clasped her hands together. ¡°How¡¯d your mission go?¡±

    ¡°Fine. I caused a volcano to erupt. It was a first for me. Anything interesting happen while I was gone?¡±

    Talk about a loaded question. ¡°I heard you ran into Sig.¡±

    ¡°I did. He threatened to kill me. Apparently he¡¯s under the impression you and I are engaged. How do you suppose he got a crazy idea like that?¡±

    ¡°About that, I admit I told him. He barged in here and started making demands. He said I was going to marry him like I had nothing to say about it.¡±

    ¡°Imagine that.¡±

    ¡°I know, the irony wasn¡¯t lost on me. Anyway I said the first thing that popped into my head, that I was already going to marry you. He didn¡¯t take it very well.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.¡°No kidding. I had barely landed when he burst out of the castle and challenged me to a duel. He said the winner would marry you.¡±

    Karrie gritted her teeth. ¡°What did you say?¡±

    ¡°I told him you weren¡¯t a piece of meat for us to fight over and whatever happened you were free to marry whoever you wanted.¡±

    He¡¯d stood up for her. Even after she used him to deflect Sig. Heaven¡¯s mercy, she loved him. Karrie didn¡¯t deserve to marry someone so decent. ¡°You said that?¡±

    ¡°I have an offer for you. If you¡¯re willing to handling the politics and let me stay out in the field as much as I want I¡¯ll accept your proposal.¡±

    Her heart stopped for a moment. He was accepting. Even if he had conditions she couldn¡¯t believe he was accepting. ¡°You¡¯ll marry me? Really?¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°I can¡¯t stand the idea of anyone treating you the way Sig tried to. I don¡¯t love you, I won¡¯t lie about that, but I do like you. You¡¯re a sweet girl and you deserve better than to be treated like a prize pig at auction. We¡¯ll get engaged and if between now and your eighteenth name day you find someone you prefer, well, that¡¯s fine with me. Deal?¡±

    She stared at him. It wasn¡¯t the most romantic proposal, but he was giving her what she wanted and Karrie wasn¡¯t about to complain. It was really going to happen. She couldn¡¯t believe it.

    Karrie leapt at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Damien held her gently and she kissed his cheek. There was no passion in his reaction, but that was fine. They¡¯d made a start and they could build on it. The important thing was they¡¯d taken the first step.

    After a moment he let her go. ¡°I need to clean up. Will you be watching the duel tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Since you¡¯ll be fighting for me it would be rude if I didn¡¯t.¡± She looked away then back. ¡°Will you be okay? Sig¡¯s really going to try and kill you.¡±

    Damien snorted at that. ¡°I suspect I¡¯ll be fine. It would be easier if I was fighting to kill, but nevertheless I think I can handle it. See you later.¡±

    He stood up and walked out. When the door had closed behind him Karrie leapt up and turned a pirouette. She¡¯d won! Damien would be hers. She heard a noise and a moment later her mother¡¯s arms wrapped around her from behind.

    ¡°Congratulations, Karrie. I told you Sig or John would be the key to convincing him. Who would have imagined protective instincts would beat out a hunger of power? He¡¯s a rare boy. As long as you don¡¯t mess up you¡¯ll never have to fear anything again.¡±

    Karrie clasped her mother¡¯s hand. Damien was a rare boy. He wanted nothing from her and he¡¯d even gone out of his way to stand up for her. Karrie wasn¡¯t sure she was worthy of someone like Damien, but she¡¯d do her best to make him happy.

 4.47

    Damien woke after an excellent night¡¯s sleep, calmer and more relaxed than he had been in weeks. Making a decision about Karrie took a huge weight off his mind. He wasn¡¯t at all certain he¡¯d made the right choice, but he¡¯d committed now so all he could do was follow through and hope someone swept her off her feet before the vows were spoken. He held little hope of that, but stranger things had happened.

    He dressed, headed to the kitchen to collect a pair of breakfast sandwiches, and walked downstairs to check in with his master. Her door was partway open so he stuck his head in.

    She looked up from the paper she was reading. ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there, come in. Do I smell bacon?¡±

    He guided the bubble with her sandwich over to the desk. ¡°I figured you¡¯d be so wrapped up in planning that you¡¯d forget to eat, again.¡±

    She devoured a quarter of the sandwich in one bite. ¡°You were right. How come you never bring orange juice?¡±

    He shrugged and dropped into the empty chair. He¡¯d gotten comfortable enough in her presence that he could sit without feeling like it was a breach of protocol. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you liked orange juice. How¡¯s the mission planning going?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s done. I sent a summons to everyone I want. With any luck everyone will be assembled no later than tomorrow at noon. Speaking of noon, did you really have to fight that blond idiot the day before a major action?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t my idea. Don¡¯t worry, I can handle Sig and still have plenty of time to recover before tomorrow. I assume you want me to come along?¡±

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.¡°You assume right. You¡¯ll be leading the first squad through the door.¡±

    Damien looked up from his food. ¡°I don¡¯t think caves have doors.¡±

    His master scowled at him. ¡°You know what I mean.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Are you coming to watch the duel?¡±

    She waved a greasy hand. ¡°I don¡¯t have time to waste on that foolishness. Just be careful. Even a weak opponent is dangerous if you underestimate them.¡±

    He stood up. It didn¡¯t look like she had anything for him to do today. ¡°I never underestimate my opponents. What time is the muster, tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°An hour after noon, but I expect you in my office by ten at the latest.¡±

    ¡°Understood. If you need me just send a message.¡±

    She waved a hand and turned her attention back to the papers on her cluttered desk. Damien went outside for some fresh air. He hated the time before a battle. The minutes seemed to drag by.

    He traveled the back corridors, meeting no one, following the same path he took last winter when he went looking for Lane. Damien stepped out into the courtyard and flew up on to the wall. He walked the perimeter, looking out over the bustling capital. When he reached the north gate Damien squinted, trying to see past the outer wall. Was Sig there waiting? The arrogant noble didn¡¯t seem like the type to arrive early for a fight.

    He sensed a presence a moment before John landed beside him. His old friend had dark circles under his eyes. It didn¡¯t look like he¡¯d gotten much sleep of late.

    ¡°I thought I might find you here,¡± John said. ¡°I can¡¯t believe he challenged you again.¡±

    ¡°Me either. He wanted a duel to the death, but I made a deal with the duke to spare him.¡±

    John cocked his head. ¡°Deal?¡±

    When Damien finished explaining John stared, dumbstruck. ¡°You might better kill him. If his father disinherits him Sig will be devastated.¡±

    Damien couldn¡¯t dredge up much sympathy for the giant Northman. ¡°If he challenges me a third time I¡¯ll do just that.¡±

    John flinched. ¡°Did you talk to Karrie?¡±

    ¡°I agreed to marry her. She seemed pleased.¡±

    ¡°I bet. You don¡¯t seem all that thrilled.¡±

    Damien shrugged. ¡°Not thrilled¡± described how he felt pretty well. ¡°It¡¯s done now. Maybe it won¡¯t be so bad. At least she won¡¯t be nagging me all the time.¡±

    ¡°Not about that at least.¡±

    They shared a laugh.

 4.48

    Damien landed at the appointed place, a flat patch of ground with trampled grass. Behind him the castle battlements were crowded with people that wanted to watch the two sorcerers duel. This sort of thing usually happened at the arena near The Tower, so it was a rare chance for non-sorcerers to watch a duel.

    When he flew over Damien had spotted the king and his family along with John, Jen, and a morose Duke Iceborn. Karrie waved when he flew over and Damien returned the gesture. She looked so happy and he wished he shared the feeling. The more time that passed since he agreed to her proposal the more he feared he¡¯d made a horrible mistake.

    He was saved from further brooding by the arrival of a familiar giant form. Sig cut a gallant figure in his blue and white tunic and matching trousers, a pale blue, fur-trimmed cloak billowing behind him. Damien had seen no point in dressing up and so he wore a rumpled black tunic he¡¯d fished out of his rucksack.

    ¡°Ready to die, runt?¡± Sig asked.

    Damien sighed. Why did everything have to be a production? ¡°Let¡¯s get on with it.¡±

    Sig drew power and conjured a fifteen-foot-tall bear with exaggerated fangs and claws. The construct threw its head back in a silent roar. The bear charged, tearing up clods of dirt as it raced toward Damien.

    Damien frowned and a massive blade of soul force appeared in the air in front of him. With a wave of his hand the blade sliced the bear in half and scattered its energy around the battlefield in a shower of sparks. He reabsorbed the soul force in his blade and raised an eyebrow at Sig. ¡°Is that it?¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Sig snarled and hurled a blast of raw soul force at Damien. An angled shield appeared in front of Damien, sending the blast ricocheting off into the nearby forest. An explosion sent bits of shattered trees flying. Impressive, he hadn¡¯t thought Sig capable of generating that much power. His shield vanished when Damien absorbed the power. Sig gasped for air, an incredulous look on his once-haughty face.

    ¡°You want to call that good?¡± Damien asked. Even to someone as dense as Sig the futility of continuing the battle had to be obvious.

    ¡°I¡¯m far from done.¡± Power flowed around Sig¡¯s hands and he hurled a rapid succession of golden daggers at Damien.

    Their power was so weak Damien didn¡¯t even bother with an extra barrier. The daggers broke on his personal shield one after another until Sig fell to his knees.

    ¡°Why? Those were my best attacks.¡± Sig hung his head and Damien feared he might start crying again. ¡°Are you really that much stronger than me?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Damien spoke with a complete lack of emotion or pride. His power was nothing to be proud of. He was born the strongest of his generation. No amount of training would make him any more powerful than he was when he came into the world. From the moment you¡¯re born to the moment you die, barring a demon contract, your power was fixed. What you did with it was what mattered.

    ¡°Go see your father,¡± Damien said. ¡°I know he¡¯s worried about you. And don¡¯t challenge me again.¡±

    ¡°Wait! This was supposed to be a duel to the death.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re so eager to die find someone else to kill you. I¡¯m not interested in the job.¡± Damien leapt into the air and flew back to the castle. He needed to prepare for the real battle tomorrow. Somehow he doubted Connor Blackman would go down as easy as Sig.

 4.49

    Connor rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought, as he sat alone in his library. He hated waiting for news, but he could only be in one place at a time and right now he had to rely on his subordinates to complete their tasks before he could activate the crystal and begin summoning his army. He sighed. It truly was a nuisance, but what can you do?

    He got up off the black chair and strolled around the shelves, pausing now and then to caress a favored item. The black gem emitted a shadowy spark when he brushed it. He still remembered vividly the day Morana had picked it up and started tossing it from one hand to the other. How she¡¯d screamed when he corrected her. It had been a shame to scar up that lovely, pale skin, but you couldn¡¯t expect your servants to learn if you didn¡¯t provide the proper correction.

    Mikhail¡¯s presence jangled his nerves. Connor frowned. He hadn¡¯t expected the black knight back so soon. Something must have gone wrong. If Mikhail was involved there was no other conclusion possible. He returned to the black chair and shook his head. Whatever mistake his unreliable servant had made, Connor would rectify it. Nothing would stop him from completing his great task.

    Mikhail staggered through the library entrance, his armor charred and ash covered. It looked like someone had roasted him over a bonfire, a really hot one.

    ¡°Master.¡± He staggered over and collapsed to his knees. ¡°The druid has failed and the cave is lost.¡±

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Connor leapt to his feet. He needed that cave and the repositioned ley lines to power his crystal. ¡°We must reclaim it.¡±

    Mikhail shook his head. ¡°Gone. The boy destroyed it with me inside. I only survived by the slimmest margins.¡±

    ¡°The same boy that defeated you before?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±

    Connor snarled. This youth was getting to be a pain. ¡°What of Eleck?¡±

    ¡°Taken prisoner. I fear he lacks the will to resist questioning.¡±

    That was a considerable understatement. Eleck had less spine than a jellyfish. If anyone questioned him hard he¡¯d tell them everything he knew. ¡°This place is finished. We need to move, now.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± Mikhail struggled to stand and failed.

    His servant was useless in this condition. Connor grabbed him by the breastplate and yanked him to his feet. The warlock poured a small measure of his power into the demon armor. Mikhail straightened at once.

    ¡°Thank you, Master.¡±

    ¡°Keep silent. I have too much to do on my own. Collect the artifacts and place them in the trunks for transport. Carefully. If anything¡¯s damaged I¡¯ll shred what¡¯s left of your soul. And leave the black gem. I¡¯ll have need of it before we leave.¡±

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.While Mikhail packed Connor collected his three remaining crystal birds and set about warning his servants not to return to this place. He looked at the three tiny messengers. He¡¯d lost so many of his minions over the past year, most to the same brat of a boy. It defied reason that someone so young could cause so much trouble. No matter, he¡¯d deal with the brat in due course. For now he needed to find a place to set up the crystal. He had one option left, but it involved doing the one thing he hated most: swallowing his pride.

    An hour later Mikhail had everything except the black gem packed safely in two leather trunks. Connor allowed himself a moment of nostalgia before they set out. He¡¯d built this place with his own power. It was the first thing he¡¯d claimed that wasn¡¯t created by his forebears in the Horned One¡¯s cult.

    Oh well. Nothing lasted forever.

    Connor set the black gem on his chair and sent a pulse of hellfire into it, priming the destructive energy inside. The first person to enter that didn¡¯t possess corrupted soul force would receive a nasty surprise.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Connor gestured and a black globe appeared around the luggage. They left the cave and once outside he conjured a pair of shadowy horses. The two of them mounted up and flew into the air heading east.

    ¡°Where are we going, Master?¡±

    ¡°The haunted lands. I believe an ally there might help us.¡± After he¡¯s done mocking me. ¡°I had hoped not to have to rely on the creature, but with Eleck¡¯s failure we have little choice.¡±

    They galloped through the night sky, crossing over the mountains and into the haunted lands just before sunrise. There was no need to muck about at the pyramids this time. Connor knew exactly where they needed to go and how to get there.

    They reached the palace just before midday. Without the paladin¡¯s barrier Connor had no trouble flying through the hole Focalor had smashed in the ceiling and landing right in the middle of the library. He let their mounts vanish and pulled the bronze amulet out of his tunic.

    ¡°Guard the entrance. I don¡¯t want anything following me to the vault.¡±

    Mikhail drew his sword. ¡°Nothing will get past me, Master.¡±

    Connor set the amulet into the oval depression and the stairs formed. The walk down gave him plenty of time to think of the best way to approach the spirit in the mirror. He feared a bit of groveling might be necessary. He¡¯d left Mikhail up above as much so he wouldn¡¯t witness Connor negotiating with the spirit as to prevent anything from sneaking along behind him. Dealing with the spirit would be embarrassing enough without an audience.

    After the long trudge down the stairs he reached the open chamber where he¡¯d fought the guardian. Today the hellfire construct remained still. It probably recognized Connor as possessing the same corrupt soul force as that which sustained it. Whatever the reason he was glad not to have to fight the monster again.

    It took only a moment to find the rune of opening and unseal the vault. It looked exactly like he remembered. Today Connor ignored the treasures hidden behind the rune-etched glass and focused his attention on the black mirror hanging on the back wall. His distorted reflection stared back at him.

    ¡°Are you just going to ignore me?¡± Connor asked.

    His reflection wavered and shifted into a vaguely defined humanoid shape. ¡°The court jester has returned. Come to help yourself to another of the master¡¯s toys?¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯ve been considering your generous offer to show me where the wise king planned to activate the crystal. Upon further consideration I¡¯ve decided your location might be best after all.¡±

    The spirit¡¯s glowing eyes narrowed. ¡°Why the sudden change of heart?¡±

    Before he could reply the spirit laughed, a grating sound like nails on slate. ¡°Your efforts to secure a different location fell apart. So you¡¯ve come crawling back, pretending you reconsidered, when you¡¯ve really failed. Am I wrong?¡±

    Connor clenched his jaw and bowed his head. ¡°Your perceptions are keen, as expected of a servant of King Alexious. Indeed my initial efforts to secure a staging area didn¡¯t work out. Are you still interested in getting out of this vault and going on a trip?¡±

    ¡°My first thought is to tell you to go to hell, but I badly want out of this vault. I haven¡¯t seen anything but these three walls for hundreds of years. I will show you the way, warlock.¡±

 4.50

    ¡°Eli?¡± Damien was surprised to find his former roommate among the group summoned by the archmage to go after Connor Blackman. He stood beside Master Shen at the edge of the gathering in the royal castle courtyard.

    Eli waved. ¡°Damien. I figured you¡¯d be here. I passed my final test and Master Shen took me on as his apprentice.¡±

    They shook hands. ¡°Congratulations. I told you you¡¯d nail it the second time. Is this your first mission?¡±

    Eli nodded. ¡°Yeah. Not exactly an easy way to start. Though I heard your first official mission was a solo bodyguard job that ended up with a huge battle in the badlands. At least I have plenty of help.¡±

    That was an understatement. In addition to Eli and Master Shen, eighteen sorcerers, including the archmage and one of the high sorcerers, were going out on this mission. They had enough power gathered to take on an army. Damien just hoped it was enough to defeat Connor. At least he¡¯d managed to bury Mikhail, so they wouldn¡¯t have to face both of them at the same time.

    His master levitated five feet above the crowd. When she had everyone¡¯s attention the archmage said, ¡°You know why we¡¯re here. Through the efforts of my apprentice and his sister we have finally acquired Connor Blackman¡¯s general location. When we reach the mountains we¡¯ll divide into groups of two. If anyone finds anything report at once. Do not try and engage Connor on your own. Our combined force should be enough to completely overwhelm him. Clear?¡±

    Heads bobbed in acknowledgement. Damien really hoped they took her orders seriously. If Connor really was stronger than Mikhail there was no way any of them could handle the warlock on their own.

    The assembled sorcerers sprang into the air, some on conjured mounts and others flying along under their own power like Damien. He flew over beside his master. ¡°I assume we¡¯ll be searching together.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m going to stay in a central position with Zahara to coordinate. You¡¯ll be searching with Imogen.¡±

    Damien winced. Imogen hated him. He was surprised the archmage had allowed her to come on the hunt. ¡°I¡¯m not sure we¡¯re a good pair and who¡¯s Zahara?¡±

    ¡°I keep forgetting. Zahara¡¯s the high sorcerer of the east and we¡¯ll be working in her area. Imogen just lost her partner and since I didn¡¯t want to bring any other members of the legion I figured you¡¯d be the most familiar with her. I didn¡¯t want to include her on this mission, but I doubt if I ordered her to stay she¡¯d obey me. At least this way she¡¯ll have someone to keep an eye on her.¡±

    Damien was familiar with her. She yelled at him every time they got within sight of each other. He still had no idea why and now he¡¯d gotten stuck with babysitting duty, great. ¡°Wait, what happened to Alden?¡±

    ¡°He was killed in an attempt to recover the urn. She took it pretty hard so go easy on her.¡±

    Go easy on her. Right.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best, Master.¡±

    It took four hours for the gathered sorcerers to fly to the mountains. Eleck said the cave was near the eastern edge of the range and more north than south. That still left hundreds of square miles of territory to cover. Nine groups of sorcerers should make quick work of it. It wasn¡¯t like they had to check every square inch. If they just got close any member of the group would sense Connor.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    When the archmage brought them to a halt Damien flew over beside Imogen and smiled. As usual that only earned him a scowl in return. Orders were given and they flew out to search their assigned quadrant.

    After ten minutes of glacial silence Damien said, ¡°What did I ever do to you anyway?¡±

    Imogen glanced at him, her blue eyes sparkling in the bright sun. ¡°Nothing. I don¡¯t like you because you remind me of my own weakness. Try not to take it personally.¡±

    Damien stared at the back of her head, his mouth partway open. When he¡¯d recovered from the surprise he said, ¡°What kind of stupid reason is that? Are you saying we¡¯d get along better if I was a weakling?¡±

    Imogen stopped and turned to face him straight on. He would have sworn the ice maiden had a tear in the corner of her eye. ¡°That¡¯s just what he said to me the day before he was killed. Alden said it was foolish to hate you for such an absurd reason. As was usually the case he was right. Knowing it and doing something about it are two different things.¡±

    ¡°Alden said that?¡± Damien shook his head. ¡°I always thought he was too nice a guy to be a questioner. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve had a chance to tell you how sorry I am that he died.¡±

    ¡°Damn it! Stop being nice to me! I¡¯ve never treated you with anything but contempt. I don¡¯t deserve your kindness.¡±

    Damien bit his lip, flew over, and put a hand on Imogen¡¯s shoulder. Every muscle in her body was tense. ¡°It¡¯s hard to lose someone you care about. Whatever I may think about you in general, everyone deserves a bit of kindness under these circumstances. When this is over, if you need someone to talk to, well, I¡¯ve been told I¡¯m a good listener.¡±

    Imogen wiped her eyes and they flew on. When she looked his way again he imagined a hint of a smile. ¡°You make it very hard for a person to hate you.¡±

    Damien grinned. ¡°If you need pointers look up Duke Iceborn¡¯s son. He seems to have hating me down to an art.¡±

    Imogen laughed then clapped her hand over her mouth.

    ¡°Careful, your face might break if you keep smiling like that.¡±

    She opened her mouth to retort, but Damien held up a hand. ¡°Do you feel that?¡± He sensed a hint of corruption to the east and a little south.

    Imogen nodded. ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem strong enough to be a warlock.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s have a closer look.¡±

    She nodded and they followed the hint of corruption for another two minutes before a cave appeared below them. It matched the description Eleck gave perfectly.

    ¡°This has to be it,¡± Damien said. ¡°I¡¯ll send the archmage a message.¡±

    Imogen¡¯s face was twisted in a grimace. He¡¯d never seen such a look of hate. ¡°It¡¯s his fault Alden is dead. One of Connor¡¯s flunkies cut his throat while he was unconscious. He¡¯s going to pay for what he¡¯s done.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but we have to wait for the others.¡±

    Imogen¡¯s shield flared, blinding him for a moment. When his vision cleared Imogen was almost to the cave.

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Damien frantically conjured a message for his master. She¡¯d have no trouble following it back to this spot. That done he plunged after Imogen. He¡¯d just started to like the woman, he couldn¡¯t let her kill herself now.

    Damien caught up just as she landed in a little flat spot outside the cave. ¡°What are you doing? The two of us aren¡¯t enough to take on a warlock.¡±

    She held up a finger to her lips, like Connor hadn¡¯t already sensed their presence. ¡°Come with me or wait here, I don¡¯t care, but I mean to get my revenge.¡±

    Imogen advanced into the cave. Stupid woman. Did she have a death wish? Damien followed a step behind. This was absurd. His only hope was that he could protect her long enough for them to escape or for help to arrive. Damien conjured a weak light when they moved beyond the entrance. The floor of the tunnel was worn smooth by the passage of many feet. It looked like Connor had a lot of company.

    They continued deeper, but the corrupt power neither moved nor fluctuated. Damien frowned. Either Connor somehow didn¡¯t know they were there or he was disguising his true power somehow. A little ways ahead the tunnel opened into a larger cavern.

    Imogen drew power from her core and lunged through the opening. Damien joined her in an empty room filled with shelves. At the far end was a black chair with a gem on it.

    The gem pulsed.

    Damien grabbed Imogen and pulled her tight to his body.

    This was going to be close.

    He drew all but a fraction of his power and wrapped them in a cocoon of soul force.

    The gem exploded and darkness filled the cave.

 4.51

    Damien didn¡¯t know if darkness could be angry, but if it could the roiling energy trying to smash its way through his barrier felt angry. A strong sense of hate permeated the miasma. Imogen held tight to him, her eyes squeezed shut. Out of the corner of his eye he caught glimpses of spectral skulls swirling through the darkness. His shield was down to half strength and the darkness showed no sign of dissipating.

    He redirected all his energy to maintaining the barrier which strengthened it considerably. Imogen whimpered and Damien stroked her hair. He¡¯d never seen the normally unshakable woman so out of sorts. It had to be an effect of the darkness trap. It made his knees weak and stomach roil, but his emotions stayed steady. Just as well; if he lost focus they were both dead.

    Gradually the pressure on his barrier weakened. A minute later the melted remains of the stone shelves grew visible in the light of his shield.

    Imogen looked at him. ¡°Is it over?¡±

    ¡°Getting there. We¡¯d best wait another minute before leaving the barrier. You okay?¡±

    She looked away. ¡°Fine. I just got a little overwhelmed for a while. You saved my life, again.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to yell at me, are you?¡±

    ¡°No. Thanks for coming after me. It was stupid coming in here on my own. I just felt so angry and I wanted revenge so bad. Or maybe I hoped Connor would kill me and end the pain.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say that. Once you¡¯re dead there¡¯s no way things can improve. As long as you¡¯re alive there¡¯s always the hope that when you wake up the next day will be better. We¡¯re teammates now. I¡¯ll do whatever I can to help.¡±

    Imogen broke down in tears and he held her. She must not have given herself a chance to grieve after Alden¡¯s death, running on rage and hate. It looked like she¡¯d hit her limit. Of all the terrible times for her to have a breakdown, she couldn¡¯t have picked a worse one than this. He almost would have preferred an angry Imogen, at least until they retuned to the castle. After that she could cry on his shoulder as long as she needed to.

    When Imogen calmed down she looked back to him and their gazes locked. Before he knew it she kissed him. Not a quick thank you kiss on the cheek either. The kiss matched her personality, rough and aggressive. She ran her hands over his chest. Given their proximity he was going to have a difficult time hiding his reaction.

    When she came up for breath the darkness had fully cleared. He gave a full-body shiver. Damn, that was a kiss. With Imogen smiling at him in a way that made his knees weak Damien opened a tiny hole in the barrier. He stuck his finger out, and it didn¡¯t disintegrate or even burn.

    ¡°I think we¡¯re good to go.¡± At least his voice didn¡¯t tremble.

    Imogen licked her lips. ¡°What¡¯s the rush?¡±

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.Oh, boy. He didn¡¯t want to just reject her, that might send her back into a depression. On the other hand, a corruption-infused cave in the middle of nowhere didn¡¯t make the best trysting spot. Not to mention he was technically engaged, even if it was to someone he didn¡¯t love. If he did anything with Imogen it would be a horrible betrayal to Karrie. They needed to escape and the sooner the better.

    And how would he explain this to Karrie? It didn¡¯t seem to argue well for their future that he didn¡¯t feel especially guilty about kissing Imogen. He did worry about upsetting Lizzy even though she¡¯d made it pretty clear that he was free to do whatever he wanted and she wouldn¡¯t hold it against him.

    Damien absorbed the energy remaining in the barrier¡ªit wasn¡¯t much¡ªand put some distance between them. The tunnel leading out had melted closed. If they were going to escape it wouldn¡¯t be that way.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Imogen closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to finish what we started?¡±

    She¡¯d completely lost her mind. Must be the stress. He looked around the ruined cave. ¡°This isn¡¯t exactly the place for that sort of thing. The lingering aura of demonic energy kind of kills the mood.¡±

    She kissed the side of his neck. ¡°I think I could revive the mood most anywhere.¡±

    Damien didn¡¯t doubt that for a moment. For a woman that had never given a man a second look, at least that he was aware of, she had a talent for teasing. Unfortunately that wasn¡¯t going to get them out of here.

    ¡°What do you say we escape first and when we return home see if we still want to go down this path?¡±

    She stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. Imogen. Pouted. If he lived a thousand years Damien wouldn¡¯t have considered that a remote possibility. ¡°Fine. But we will pick up where we left off. I promise.¡±

    He swallowed. The way she said it made it sound more like a threat than a promise. Whatever, he¡¯d deal with it later. Once they were safe and she had a chance to think it over he hoped she¡¯d come to her senses. Well, most of him hoped she¡¯d come to her senses.

    ¡°How do you want to get out of here?¡± she asked.

    The pout vanished along with the sultry tone, thank heaven. ¡°I say we just blast our way out. It can¡¯t be more than a hundred yards out of here.¡±

    She stared at him for a moment then shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re serious.¡±

    ¡°Sure. My soul force has mostly recovered. I¡¯ll dig and you stabilize the tunnel.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Damien drew power and sent a twisting blast at the wall. His drill cut through the stone easily enough. When the tunnel was ten feet deep Imogen conjured a reinforcing barrier. Damien didn¡¯t know how long it took, but it went faster than digging into the bandit castle in the badlands.

    They flew out into the clear blue sky and found the rest of the search parties waiting. The archmage flew down, a fierce scowl twisting her face. ¡°What the hell happened? I thought I said no one goes after him alone.¡±

    Imogen flew in front of him. ¡°It¡¯s my fault. I lost control and went in without thinking. If Damien hadn¡¯t followed the trap inside would have killed me.¡±

    That brought his master up short. ¡°Trap?¡±

    ¡°There was no sign of Connor,¡± Damien said. ¡°But he left a black gem filled with corrupt energy. It detonated when we got close.¡±

    ¡°How could he have set a trap if he didn¡¯t know we were coming?¡± The archmage gave voice to Damien¡¯s thoughts.

    ¡°Someone must have warned him. Maybe I didn¡¯t bury Mikhail deep enough.¡±

    ¡°It might have been Eleck,¡± the archmage said.

    ¡°I doubt it.¡± Damien shook his head. He couldn¡¯t imagine Eleck having the nerve to contact Connor after his massive failure.

    ¡°Whatever happened we clearly missed him. Are you two okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, no problem,¡± Damien said. Imogen nodded once, her face a blank mask.

    In a louder voice the archmage said, ¡°The mission¡¯s a failure. Let¡¯s head home.¡±

    When the archmage turned her back Imogen reached over and stroked Damien¡¯s arm. When he looked toward her she smiled in a way that set his heart racing. It reminded him of Lizzy. Maybe he should have introduced Imogen to the demon spirit instead of the princess. That would have been a night to remember.

 4.52

    ¡°How do I free you from that mirror?¡± Connor stood, hands on hips, staring at the spirit. He could have taken the whole mirror with him, but it would be a nuisance plus it appeared to be fused to the stone wall.

    The spirit shook its head. ¡°I¡¯m not in the mirror, stupid. The mirror is a viewing gate to hell. You need to fetch the portable gate over there and touch it to this one so I can connect my consciousness to it.¡±

    Connor let the insult pass and looked where the spirit pointed. A hand-sized black mirror rested in one of the sealed alcoves. He took out the key and followed the great king¡¯s instructions to retrieve the mirror.

    ¡°All I have to do is touch this one to the big one?¡±

    ¡°Yes, even you should be able to manage that much.¡±

    Connor again let the insult pass. As long as he needed the miserable creature¡¯s aid he had little choice but to accept the abuse it seemed to enjoy heaping on him. When the mirrors touched a little thrill of power shot through his hand. When he took the little mirror away the large one was empty. Connor flipped the hand mirror around and found a tiny version of the spirit leering at him.

    ¡°Congratulations,¡± it said. ¡°You finally did something right. The cave is northeast, in the Barrier Mountains.¡±

    It would take half a day to fly back and Connor was eager to go. He started to secure the mirror in a large inside pocket of his robe.

    ¡°Hey! The inside of your robe is less interesting than the vault. Carry me in front of you so I can see where we¡¯re going.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Connor held the mirror as the spirit wished. He just needed to bear with the obnoxious creature for another day or so. Once it led Connor to the cavern he¡¯d have Mikhail throw the mirror in the nearest river.

    Connor flew upstairs where he found Mikhail standing right where he¡¯d left him. ¡°Success, Master?¡±

    ¡°What is this travesty?¡± the spirit asked. ¡°It looks like a mockery of the master¡¯s famous knights. If King Alexious saw this pathetic figure he¡¯d destroy the poor man out of pity.¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.Mikhail growled deep in the back of his throat.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind our guide¡¯s wit, Mikhail. All quiet while I was gone?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± The black knight shot one last glare at the spirit. ¡°Do we depart?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Connor conjured mounts for them both and they flew out the ceiling, turning northwest as soon as they cleared the roof.

    Night had fallen when they reached the Barrier Mountains. They hovered in the sky, Connor scanning the area for any sign the spirit hadn¡¯t led them on a pointless trek.

    ¡°Where now?¡±

    A moment of silence then, ¡°A little more north. Look for a short peak flanked by a taller one on either side. They¡¯ll almost look like horns. The cavern is at the foot of the smaller mountain.¡±

    Connor waved Mikhail further into the range then they flew on. In the dark every mountain looked like a horned head. Just when Connor had begun to despair of ever finding it he spotted the small mountain the spirit described.

    If his heart still functioned like a normal mortal¡¯s it would have raced. At the foot of the mountain was a wide opening, much like the cave he¡¯d abandoned. Connor took that as a good sign. He landed just outside the opening and let his mount fade.

    ¡°This is it,¡± the spirit said. ¡°Aren¡¯t you glad you relied on me now?¡±

    Connor forbore comment and summoned Mikhail. When his knight arrived they entered the cave. They¡¯d barely taken ten steps when it widened out into a vast, multilevel cavern. Paths had been carved into the stone to allow easy access to all levels even to those who couldn¡¯t fly.

    ¡°The crystal chamber is on the top level,¡± the spirit said.

    Not willing to walk, Connor flew up to the highest point in the cavern. There he found a level, open space perhaps thirty yards in diameter, a raised pedestal in the center. He motioned Mikhail to his side and handed him the mirror, no longer caring if he smashed it into a million pieces.

    Connor crossed the chamber, pulling the Soul Burn Crystal out of a secure pocket of his robe. The crystal felt even heavier in his hand than when he¡¯d first picked it up. The weight of long expectation perhaps. He set the crystal on the pedestal. A small dent accepted the base of the blue stone like it was made for it, which it probably was.

    Now all that remained was the awakening. Connor pulled a knife with a blackened silver blade from a sheath at his belt. The ritual dagger was a relic from the Old Empire. It held no special properties, but Connor decided a special weapon should be used for the final task.

    He held his hand over the crystal and dragged the blade across his palm. Thick, reddish-black blood dribbled out and covered the stone. Connor held his breath. It had to work. After all this time, all the setbacks, it had to work.

    The crystal began to glow and slowly the blood sank into the surface. A moment later the crystal expanded, forming a blue sheath around the pedestal.

    It didn¡¯t stop there. Faster than it had any right to the crystal spread, covering the floor and continuing over each level of the cavern. In less than an hour a thick layer of blue crystal had coated every inch of stone. Directly above the pedestal a black disk appeared, identical to the one he¡¯d opened in Valcane, only ten times larger. A great, devouring maw ready to consume everything.

    Connor just needed something to feed it.

 5.01

    Fredric St. Cloud sat in his hardback chair and stared at the report in his hand. He¡¯d been struggling to read it for the past twenty minutes, but his mind kept wandering. He tossed the parchment down on his spotless desk and rubbed his face. How could it be that his son was now engaged to wed the princess and eventually become king? Fredric had warned both his children, more times than he could remember, that they should avoid politics like the plague. At least the demon sword forbore comment.

    Damien was deep in it now. Fredric had refrained from recalling Jennifer to allow her to stay in the capital and support him. Not that there was any shortage of work for either of his children. In the six weeks since the quake, repairs had accelerated, but there still remained a great deal to do. He¡¯d even gone so far as to send all the older students to the capital to help with the cleanup and repairs. The Citadel seemed too quiet with almost half his students and most of the other warlords away.

    Someone knocked on his door and Fredric let out a great sigh, happy for any distraction from his muddled thoughts. ¡°Come in.¡±

    Rhys stuck his head in. He¡¯d reassigned the veteran to serve as his assistant until his daughter returned. ¡°There¡¯s a farmer here I think you need to speak to.¡±

    Fredric nodded, at this point he would have talked to anyone about anything. ¡°Send him in.¡±

    The door opened the rest of the way and a man perhaps fifty years old stepped through the door, the stink of manure crossing the office ahead of him. He wore dirt-caked trousers and a ragged tunic, both the color of grime. He was twisting a shapeless, broad-brimmed hat in his hands. The farmer glanced back at Rhys who nodded and shut the door behind him.

    Fredric motioned his guest to the empty chair. He suppressed a wince at the dirty boot prints the farmer left as he crossed the office. The man sat like he feared someone might yank the chair out from under him.

    ¡°So, what can I help you with?¡± Fredric asked.

    ¡°Well, sir. The thing is I seen a demon and I didn¡¯t know who best to tell. The Citadel is the closest bit of real government around and since you helped us with the goblins I figured you¡¯d be the ones to see.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Fredric frowned. If this was a joke it was in poor taste considering all the important problems in the kingdom right now. The farmer certainly seemed in earnest, but a demon? The odds of such a creature appearing in this area, especially after Damien and Jennifer had killed one less than a year ago seemed staggering. Not impossible though and if true it fell to Fredric, as the strongest warrior in the area, to deal with it.

    ¡°Describe this demon.¡±

    The farmer looked away then back. ¡°It was black, tall, kind of indistinct. Its eyes glowed red, that¡¯s what I remember most.¡±

    ¡°How is it you survived encountering such a creature?¡±

    ¡°I only seen it, from a fair distance at that. I was chasing a lost calf in the woods when I stumbled on the monster. It moved through the trees like a ghost. It didn¡¯t make no noise and it didn¡¯t seem to notice me, thank heaven. The demon ducked inside a cave dug into the side of a hill. Soon as it got out of sight I ran. Never did find that calf. Someone needs to kill the thing before it gets one of us.¡±

    ¡°Will you excuse me for a moment, Mister¡­?¡±

    ¡°Smyth, sir.¡± The farmer scrambled up out of his chair. ¡°I¡¯ll wait outside, sir.¡±

    He fled like a rabbit before a fox. When the door shut Fredric asked, ¡°Was he telling the truth?¡±

    He believes he saw a demon. Whether he actually did, who can say?

    The demon sword seemed in a poor mood today. Her voice, if the silent words appearing directly in his mind counted as a voice, had an acid bite that set his teeth on edge. Fredric had no idea why. It seemed the fickle creature¡¯s mood shifted like the weather.

    ¡°Are there demons that fit his description?¡±

    There are demons that fit every description. What he saw is well within the realm of demonic possibility.

    That seemed as close as he would get to a confirmation. He had already made up his mind to check it out, even if it turned out to be nothing Fredric needed to escape the office and this made a perfect excuse to go on a little hike. If he got to kill something at the end, so much the better.

    He grabbed the sword from its stand and slipped it through the loop on his belt. Thus armed he went out into the hall and found a patiently waiting Smyth. ¡°Can you lead me to where you saw the beast?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± A shiver ran through the farmer. ¡°I¡¯ll never forget that place as long as I live. It¡¯s a long walk though. Half a day from my farm which is twenty miles south from here.¡± Smyth tapped his chin with a dirt-crusted finger. ¡°We might make it before dark if we cut across country rather than retrace my route.¡±

    ¡°Can you ride?¡± Fredric asked.

    The farmer¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°A plow horse, maybe.¡±

    ¡°Our destriers operate on the same principles, they just have bad attitudes. As long as you show them who¡¯s boss you¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    The farmer trembled a bit. ¡°If you say so, sir.¡±

 5.02

    ¡°Right there, sir.¡± Smyth pointed, his hand shaking, at a dark opening in the side of a hill. It resembled a shadow on the slope more than a real cave, but that might have been a trick of light and distance.

    The two men crouched behind a clump of holly bushes. The spicy, evergreen smell lay over everything, thankfully canceling out Smyth¡¯s odor. They had made the trip¡ªa ride to the forest edge then a hike of several miles¡ªin about eight hours. The sun hung low in the sky casting long shadows over everything. At the edge of his awareness, Fredric noticed the skittering of small animals in the branches above him.

    A good mile separated the cave from their position, but even so, the presence of animals seemed strange. Maybe Smyth had led him on a false quest after all.

    No. I can sense the demon from here. Whatever it is, there¡¯s no doubt something is there.

    Fredric frowned. He hadn¡¯t fought a demon in years and the last one had almost killed him. The prudent thing to do would be to summon help, but with the sorcerers already stretched thin due to the quake who knew how long it might take for someone to arrive.

    He gripped Lizzenwar¡¯s hilt. He¡¯d boasted often enough that the two of them could defeat any opponent. The time had come to prove it once again.

    ¡°Smyth, go back to the horses. If I¡¯m not back in half an hour return to The Citadel and let them know I failed. They¡¯ll summon more help and you¡¯ll have to lead them back here. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir. Be careful.¡±

    Smyth hotfooted it back the way they¡¯d come leaving Fredric alone in the darkening forest. It seemed these sorts of confrontations always happened either at dusk, or midnight, or some other awful time of day when he had to rely on his enhanced vision to see what was trying to kill him. It couldn¡¯t be helped. You had to fight the battle when you reached the field. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like the time of day would matter inside the cave.

    Fredric drew the demon sword, eased out from behind the shrubs, and started through the trees toward the cave mouth. They had covered three-quarters of the distance when Lizzenwar intruded on his thoughts again.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    I don¡¯t know about this, Fredric. The demon feels stronger than I first believed. Perhaps we should fall back for now.

    ¡°We¡¯re too close to just run away. At least let¡¯s have a look at what we¡¯re dealing with.¡±

    Lizzenwar¡¯s anxiety filtered into his mind and Fredric forced it aside. With the sword¡¯s power he could defeat any enemy. He had to believe that.

    Fredric set foot in the dark opening. Sensing his thoughts the demon sword began to glow. In the crimson light the rough stone walls appeared covered in blood. The stench of rot and corruption filled the air, giving him the impression that he¡¯d entered a charnel house.

    He reached out and ran his hand along the stone. Moisture clung to his fingers and when he rubbed them together they felt tacky. Was there actual blood on the walls? That would help explain the smell.

    His grip tightened and he kept moving. Whatever covered the walls it posed no threat to him. The tunnel snaked its way deeper into the hillside. He wasn¡¯t aware of any mining in this part of the kingdom, so why was the cave here? Perhaps it occurred naturally.

    It¡¯s close, Fredric. Not more than ten yards away.

    Fredric enhanced all his senses as much as he could and sped up his perception. Ahead of him the tunnel opened up into a wide chamber. A dark haze filled the room. It swirled around, but he felt no breeze. Over several seconds the darkness gathered and formed into a hazy humanoid shape. When the final speck of darkness joined the mass, crimson eyes blazed to life.

    Fredric accelerated to warlord speed, then drew on Lizzenwar¡¯s power to reach the blinding pace that gave him his nickname. Like lightning Fredric slashed through the monster in front of him.

    Twenty, thirty, forty slashes in a second.

    No resistance met his blade. He might as well be cutting air.

    We¡¯re not hurting it. Flee, Fredric, now.

    He raced for the exit. It galled him, but the demon sword was right. If he couldn¡¯t cut it he had no hope of winning.

    A curtain of darkness covered the cave entrance, bringing Fredric up short. He spun and raced to the side just ahead of an insubstantial claw.

    Dark tentacles shot from the demon¡¯s body.

    Fredric tried to sever them, but the demon sword affected the tentacles no more than it had the main body.

    He dodged and ducked, running around the chamber like a dog chasing its tail. If he couldn¡¯t retreat even his tremendous soul force would run out.

    He had to break through the dark curtain.

    Fredric, no!

    Lizzenwar¡¯s warning came too late. Fredric plunged into the haze.

    Cold unlike anything he¡¯d ever experienced chilled him right down to his core. Soul force rushed out of him.

    Fredric staggered to the ground, his strength gone. He tried to stand up, but couldn¡¯t move.

    He rolled over on his back. The demon loomed above him, its burning eyes boring into him. A clawed hand plunged through Fredric¡¯s chest.

    The last thing he heard was Lizzenwar¡¯s scream in his mind.

 5.03

    Lizzy screamed when she felt Fredric die. It wasn¡¯t the first time one of her bearers had died, but that in no way lessened the shock. When the last of his life drained away Lizzy did one of the hardest things possible. She sent her power into the blade that served as her physical host and made it fly.

    Down the tunnel and into the night air she went. Like an arrow out of a bow, she streaked across the sky toward The Citadel. Moving on her own drained her power faster than any other task she was called on to perform. It would be a close call whether she made it back to the armory or not.

    The dark stone fortress appeared in her extended perceptions. She couldn¡¯t see exactly, but she did have a certain spatial awareness. She flew around to the rear of the keep until she located a six-inch-diameter hole in the wall, carefully hidden from casual view, and constructed specifically for her use in case her bearer died in the field. In The Citadel¡¯s two-plus-century history she¡¯d only had to use it once before today. She flew down her emergency entrance and into the darkness.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    Lizzy slipped along the tunnel, flew to the first-floor armory, and landed on a stone slab raised four feet off the ground. She settled in place an instant before her power ran out. Soon now someone would arrive. She¡¯d shattered several sorcerous barriers on her flight in. Whoever came would know at once what had happened. That person would tell Damien. Would he weep for his father? They hadn¡¯t had the best relationship, but it had improved over the past few months.

    If Lizzy had had a real body she would have sighed. Poor Fredric, he hadn¡¯t been bad as bearers went. Now they would try to foist another man on her, but this time she would choose. No one would dictate her fate.

    She would have Damien and no other.

 5.04

    Damien formed a bubble around the small mountain of cracked timbers, shattered shingles, and other random debris the workers had piled up in the street and flew away with it. Beyond the outer wall a massive fire burned around the clock, consuming the rubble from the capital. Smoke filled the sky, more smoke than when the fires still burned in the city. Not that there was any help for it. They had no other way to dispose of so much rubble.

    Over the past month and a half Damien had added a great deal of fuel to this particular pyre, most of it wood, but some the bodies of victims discovered as they demolished damaged buildings. Many of the bodies were mangled so badly no one could identify them. A lot of people who lost friends and family would never know for certain what happened to their loved ones. Damien had gotten lucky. No one he loved had been injured in the quake.

    It wasn¡¯t just tearing down now at least. The sound of hammers and saws filled every corner of the city as carpenters from all over the kingdom worked to put the capital back together. Skeletal rafters of new roofs were popping up everywhere along with bare walls and stone foundations. If the pace continued maybe everyone would have a roof over their heads before winter.

    Damien landed in the castle courtyard and wiped sweat from his brow. It was only midmorning, but the summer heat already covered the city like a damp blanket. He walked around to the back side of the keep. The castle well drew its water from a deep spring that stayed cold even on the hottest days. A long drink followed by a bucket dumped over his head sounded like just the thing.

    He stepped into the shade of the keep and sighed. It had to be twenty degrees cooler here. Maybe he¡¯d just rest a moment before getting his drink. He closed his eyes, leaned his hot back against the cool stone, and let the chill soak into his body. Sometimes the small things really were the best.

    He sensed a familiar soul force approaching a moment before soft lips pressed against his. The kiss ended and he opened his eyes to find Imogen smiling at him. She wasn¡¯t wearing her crimson uniform, instead she had on a simple white dress and sandals, her long, golden hair loose and waving in the light breeze. She looked absolutely stunning.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°I thought we talked about this. I¡¯m engaged to Karrie. We can¡¯t be sneaking around behind her back.¡±

    Her smile widened. ¡°You¡¯d rather do this where she can see us? I¡¯m game, but I¡¯m not sure how she¡¯d take it.¡±

    Damien pushed off the wall and headed for the well. ¡°You know what I mean.¡±

    She latched onto his arm and walked along with him. Since they¡¯d gotten back from the failed attempt to capture Connor Blackman, Imogen had started acting like a love-struck girl. It was such a change from what he¡¯d gotten used to. Before, it had been easy to forget she was only a year older than Lane and four years older than him.

    ¡°I know you don¡¯t love that girl. That you¡¯re only marrying her out of pity. Why should you have to give up your happiness for her?¡±

    Damien pulled the well bucket up to give himself a chance to think. He¡¯d tried explaining everything to Imogen once already. The night after their return from the mission he¡¯d gone to his room after a long conversation with his master only to find a naked Imogen lounging in his bed waiting for him. She had been intent on finishing what she started back in the cave. It had taken all Damien¡¯s considerable willpower not to take her up on the offer.

    Instead they spent the evening talking. They shared their histories and Damien explained his promise to Karrie and how he felt about Lizzy. He¡¯d thought Imogen understood and she¡¯d left with nothing more than a passing kiss.

    He¡¯d been mistaken. It appeared Imogen had made it her new mission to convince him to forget his promise, abandon the princess, and fall into bed with her. It seemed whenever he was alone she¡¯d appear and start kissing him. She left him constantly on edge. If Karrie ever discovered them, even though it hadn¡¯t been his idea, she¡¯d never forgive him. And while Imogen was right that Damien didn¡¯t love the princess, he also had no desire to hurt her.

    The bucket reached the top of the well. Imogen grabbed the dipper out of the bucket ahead of him and took a sip before letting the rest run down her chin and neck to soak the front of her thin dress. The wet material clung to her flawless curves. Damien forced himself to look away.

    ¡°I thought you were thirsty.¡± She pressed herself against his back and kissed the nape of his neck with her cool, wet lips. A shiver ran through him. He needed to get away from her before his wavering resolve shattered.

    He sensed the energy of one of his master¡¯s message constructs approaching. The golden orb flew around the wall and formed the words ¡°Throne room.¡± Damien sent his master a silent thank you.

    He stepped away from Imogen. ¡°Duty calls.¡±

    She licked her lips and smiled. ¡°Another time.¡±

 5.05

    The energy from the archmage¡¯s message faded and Damien fled. When he glanced back he found Imogen watching him with one hand on her hip and a hungry gleam in her eyes. He seriously doubted anything he said had made an impression on her. Maybe his master had a mission for him. Something that would send him out of the capital until the wedding. Fat chance of that.

    He walked around to the front of the keep, his mouth dry and his throat scratchy. At least she could have let him get a drink. He had almost reached the steps when he spotted Jen coming from the opposite direction. She had on her slashed uniform and the hilt of the sword he made her jutted up over her shoulder. Even out on a work crew the weapon never moved far from her hand. That was one of the first lessons Dad had taught them. Damien paused at the bottom to let Jen join him.

    ¡°She called you too?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Uncle Andy sent a guard for me. You know what¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°No clue. I just got a message from the archmage calling me to the throne room.¡±

    They walked up the stairs, past the guards, and down the armor-lined hall The usual two guards stood on duty and opened the door for them. Damien nodded to them in passing. They refused to meet his gaze, which was weird. Usually the guards were friendly. There must be something serious going on to put them in such a bad mood.

    They entered the all-but-empty throne room. No messengers waited for instructions. No one was lined up to ask for a favor. Even Uncle Andy¡¯s guards had gone off somewhere. The only people in the room were the king on his throne and the archmage standing at his right hand. Whatever they had to say must be dire. Uncle Andy looked even more wan than usual.

    They bowed and Damien said, ¡°You called us, Master?¡±

    The archmage looked to the king who nodded. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have bad news. Your father has fallen in battle.¡±

    Damien¡¯s knees wobbled and beside him Jen gasped. He reached out and grabbed her hand. She squeezed back with unconscious and desperate strength. Only his shield kept her from crushing his hand.

    He tried to speak, but no words would come out. He glanced at his sister. Jen stared at the archmage then the king then back to his master. She didn¡¯t seem to understand. Damien was having trouble with it himself.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    After a third try he managed to gasp, ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not exactly sure,¡± Uncle Andy said. ¡°We know a farmer came to The Citadel two days ago and claimed to have seen a demon. Your father went to investigate. Sometime that night the demon sword returned on its own to the armory. The master of arms discovered it yesterday morning.¡±

    Beside him Jen¡¯s whole body was shaking. Damien conjured a sofa and the two of them sat, protocol be damned. She started crying and buried her head in his shoulder. Damien put his arm around her and rubbed her back. She¡¯d always been closer to Dad. Damien had just started to turn their relationship into something more than awkward silences and shouting. Now he¡¯d never finish that process.

    ¡°Has anyone spoken to Lizzy?¡± Damien asked. ¡°She¡¯d know everything that happened.¡±

    ¡°Tradition holds that no one can touch the demon sword until the four generals select a new bearer for it,¡± Uncle Andy said. ¡°That could take a while.¡±

    ¡°I need to talk to her.¡± Lizzy would be upset after Dad died and she didn¡¯t have anyone to talk to all alone in the armory.

    ¡°The generals will all come to your father¡¯s memorial.¡± Uncle Andy massaged the bridge of his nose. ¡°I¡¯ll encourage them to decide quickly.¡±

    Jen sniffed and looked up. ¡°When will the memorial be?¡±

    ¡°It will take a few weeks for everyone to arrive. Mid-July at the earliest,¡± the king said.

    Damien clenched his fist. He couldn¡¯t wait two weeks to see Lizzy. She¡¯d think he had abandoned her. Damien frowned and considered the layout of The Citadel. The healer¡¯s quarters shared a wall with the armory. Maybe if he visited Miss Ella he could get close enough to connect with Lizzy. As long as he didn¡¯t touch her it wouldn¡¯t break any stupid traditions.

    ¡°Since there¡¯s no body¡ª¡± Uncle Andy¡¯s voice broke. He cleared his throat and continued. ¡°We¡¯ll put a plaque in the royal mausoleum. He¡¯ll have a place of honor for all time.¡±

    ¡°I think Dad would have liked that,¡± Jen said.

    ¡°If it¡¯s okay, I¡¯d like to go to The Citadel and carve his name below Mom¡¯s on the family headstone. Jen and I can fly there and be back in a day.¡±

    The archmage nodded. ¡°We can manage without you for a while. Take as long as you need.¡±

    They stood up. ¡°If there¡¯s nothing else¡­¡± Damien looked from one to the other.

    The king and the archmage both shook their heads. Damien and Jen walked out of the throne room, leaning on each other for support. When they reached the courtyard Damien asked, ¡°Are you ready or do you need to pack?¡±

    ¡°Most of my stuff is still in my room back home. I guess I¡¯ll need to gather everything up to make room for the new commandant.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll kick you out in the next day or two.¡± Damien conjured a platform under their feet and they flew up over the wall.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t even think about putting his name on Mom¡¯s headstone. That was sweet of you to suggest.¡±

    Damien winced. ¡°It was more of an excuse to visit The Citadel. I need to talk to Lizzy.¡±

    ¡°We both need to talk to her. She¡¯s the only one that can tell us what happened to Dad.¡±

 5.06

    The Great Green whizzed by as they flew from the capital to The Citadel. Jen sat slumped against the waist-high rail he¡¯d conjured around the platform. Damien didn¡¯t fly at his fastest pace. He needed time to collect himself and he was certain Jen did as well.

    What in the world had Dad been thinking? Even a warlord as strong as his father couldn¡¯t handle most demons alone. He couldn¡¯t imagine Dad thought he had anything to prove at this point in his life. Everyone already regarded him as the best warrior of his generation. What more had he wanted?

    Jen sniffed and Damien looked down at her. ¡°You okay?¡±

    She craned her neck to meet his gaze. Her eyes were bloodshot and tears streaked her face. ¡°No. I can¡¯t believe he¡¯d do something so stupid.¡±

    ¡°He must have been confident he could handle it. Dad had killed demons before. He probably thought what was one more.¡±

    ¡°One more was one too many. I swear, I¡¯ll finish what he started. I¡¯ll hunt down the monster that killed him and bury it.¡±

    She sounded so angry Damien took a step away from her. Angry or not he couldn¡¯t let her do something foolish.

    ¡°Not alone you won¡¯t. This thing already killed Dad and he had Lizzy to help him. Together they were twice as strong as you are by yourself.¡± Maybe he should have been more gentle, but he needed to get through to her before she did something unwise.

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to stop me. I can¡¯t just stand aside and do nothing.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to have to carve your name under Dad¡¯s.¡±

    She fell silent, her hard glare softening. Jen had to know he was right. It was just her grief talking. The St. Clouds were all alike. When in doubt, take action. Damien knew he had a tendency to make that mistake as well. He fought it constantly.

    ¡°How about we wait to hear what Lizzy has to say before we make any decisions? Once we know what we¡¯re dealing with we can make a real plan.¡±

    She let out a long sigh. ¡°Alright.¡±

    An hour or so later The Citadel appeared on the horizon, the imposing structure looking especially intimidating today. They landed outside the walls on a flat stretch of land screened from the keep by a wall of spruce. Hundreds of stone monuments of various designs spread out in front of them.

    Each one represented a master of The Citadel that had died while in the crown¡¯s service. Most were simple granite rectangles with shields carved into them above the name of the master and the date of his or her death. Some were more ornate, resembling swords or axes. Without fail the stones were spotless, each cleaned and polished several times a year by the first- and second-year students. The cemetery served as a constant reminder of every warlord¡¯s eventual end.

    The St. Cloud family headstone was a black rectangle with a large shield in the center. The shield was crossed with a sword and spear, their parents¡¯ favored weapons. Someone had carved Mom¡¯s name a little below the emblem with Damien¡¯s birth date beside it. He bent down and ran his finger over the letters and numbers.

    It was his fault she died. If he¡¯d never been born she¡¯d still be alive, maybe Dad would be too. Damien had no doubt his father had believed that. He never said it, but it was always there, just below the surface.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Damien conjured a small chisel of dense soul force, its edge so sharp it would carve the stone like soft wood. The construct floated up to Jen.

    ¡°Do you want to do it?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can. Once I carve the numbers it becomes real.¡±

    Damien looked up and found his sister holding the chisel in trembling hands. He stood and put his arms around her. She cried into his shoulder, the chisel floating forgotten to one side. He didn¡¯t know how long they stood like that, but when she finally pulled away from him her gaze met his, steady and strong.

    Jen snatched the chisel out of the air and took a knee. With deft strokes she carved Dad¡¯s name along with the date of his death. When she finished Damien absorbed the chisel. He helped her to her feet and they stood in silence for a moment, each thinking their own thoughts. Damien wished he¡¯d had a chance to build on what they started at his name day party, but wishes were as worthless as regrets.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go talk to Lizzy,¡± Jen said.

    It was a short walk to the outer gate from the cemetery. The guard on duty nodded and waved them through, a sad frown on his face. He wore a black band on his left arm. The first- and second-year students were out in the yard doing their forms while the masters looked on. Every one of them had a matching black band on their arms.

    One of the sword masters noticed Damien and Jen. He bellowed something and all the students stopped and faced them. As one they brought their fists to their hearts. Damien and Jen came to attention and returned the salute. Damien glanced at his sister and found her jaw clenched so tight the muscle looked like a small ball.

    The students returned to their practice and Damien and Jen went on their way. Beside him Jen cleared her throat. ¡°One more display like that and I¡¯m going to start crying again.¡±

    ¡°We should be good now.¡±

    The doors stood open and they walked through without anyone seeming to notice. Damien allowed himself a hint of a smile as he strode the familiar path to Miss Ella¡¯s room. This was the first time he¡¯d ever visited the infirmary when he didn¡¯t have an injury. The next door down two warlords stood at attention with their swords drawn. It looked like they were taking the tradition seriously. The two men couldn¡¯t stop Damien if he really wanted to get in, but they could keep him from doing it quietly. He really hoped Lizzy was close enough to the infirmary wall to allow a connection.

    Damien knocked on the closed door and a moment later Miss Ella opened up. She had on her familiar blue dress and white apron with the red cross on it. When she saw them she burst into tears. Damien looked at Jen who looked back with an uncertain expression.

    He put his arm around Miss Ella and guided her back into the room. Damien helped her sit on her stool. She had settled down and was wiping her eyes. ¡°You must forgive me. It was such a shock hearing about Fredric. Are you two holding up okay?¡±

    ¡°Considering the circumstances I guess so,¡± Damien said. ¡°We need a favor.¡±

    ¡°Anything I can do, just ask.¡±

    Damien smiled. ¡°I need to talk to Lizzy. I¡¯m hoping she¡¯s close enough to the connecting wall for my thoughts to reach her. Can you keep anyone from bothering us for a little while?¡±

    ¡°No problem there. I seldom have visitors since you left.¡±

    Damien winced at the backhanded compliment. He had visited her so much because he was constantly getting hurt. ¡°Thanks. Jen, let me see if I can find her then I¡¯ll ask her to bring you in with us, okay?¡±

    His sister nodded and Damien flew along the wall separating the two rooms. Damien trailed his fingers against the wall, murmuring Lizzy¡¯s name over and over as he drifted. Come on, where are you?

    He was almost to the far end of the room when he felt her presence.

    Damien?

    He was floating right above Miss Ella¡¯s desk when her voice reached him, faint but clear. He settled on the desktop. ¡°I¡¯m here. Am I close enough for you to bring me in?¡±

    No. You¡¯re right at the edge of my consciousness. I can sense those guards. Will they not let you in?

    ¡°No. No one can see you until the generals decide who your next bearer will be. It might be a little while.¡±

    I¡¯ll make it simple for them. Tell the generals the only one I¡¯ll accept is you.

    His heart skipped a beat. ¡°Me? I¡¯m not a warlord.¡±

    Her laugh made him smile.

    I¡¯m a demon spirit, remember? I have divine soul force. It can be used either internally or externally. My first bearer was a sorcerer after all. Tell them, Damien. You and no other.

    ¡°Damien?¡± Jen had moved to join him by the desk. ¡°Is everything okay?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re too far away to enter Lizzy¡¯s world. I can just make out her psychic voice. We¡¯re going to have to wait to find out what happened.¡±

    Jen snapped a tongue depressor in half. ¡°I hate waiting.¡±

 5.07

    Damien flew north, his thoughts whirling. First Dad got killed then Lizzy demanded that Damien be her next bearer. It was too much too fast. He couldn¡¯t process it all. Damien focused on the one thing that really mattered, figuring out how to make Lizzy¡¯s wish come true. If they could be together it would make Dad¡¯s death mean something, maybe. Damien didn¡¯t know. All he was certain of was that he wanted to be with her more than he¡¯d ever wanted anything in his life.

    Uncle Andy had agreed to have the memorial within the week and he ordered sorcerers to go and fly the generals to the capital. Damien had volunteered to collect General Kord. He wanted a chance to talk to one of them alone and he only knew John¡¯s father well enough to risk it. Luckily for Damien the general had moved back towards the northern border and away from Duke Iceborn. The last thing Damien wanted was to run into Sig or his father.

    Compared to the capital, the Northlands had just awakened from the long winter hibernation. A green field surrounded the army¡¯s camp instead of gray snow and the air didn¡¯t try to steal your breath when you drew in a lungful.

    The general¡¯s tent sat right where he remembered. No sorcerers patrolled the skies above and no one challenged Damien when he landed just outside the three-chamber tent. Two young men stood on either side of the flap, hands clasped behind their backs, blue and white uniforms spotless.

    The blond-headed boy took a step forward. ¡°Is the general expecting you, sir?¡±

    ¡°No, but I have a message from the king so I expect he¡¯ll want to see me right away.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± the boy said. ¡°One moment, please.¡±

    He ducked inside and a few seconds later emerged again. ¡°Go right in.¡± He held the flap open for Damien who nodded and stepped through.

    The interior held the familiar table and maps. The only difference now was a lack of markers for opposing armies. The general was sitting with his head down, a book in his lap. He looked up at Damien¡¯s approach.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t expected you to be the king¡¯s messenger.¡± The general smiled and stood up. ¡°Don¡¯t they have more important things for you to do?¡±

    ¡°Not at the moment, and besides I volunteered.¡± Damien pulled a scroll with the royal seal out of an inside pocket of his cloak. ¡°I wanted to talk to you about something.¡±

    The general took the scroll and broke the seal. ¡°What sort of something?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll understand better if you read the message first.¡±

    General Kord shrugged and unrolled the message. His eyes widened a few seconds later. He looked up from the scroll. ¡°Your father. What happened?¡±

    ¡°A demon apparently. I¡¯m uncertain of all the details.¡± Damien struggled to keep his tone cool and professional.

    The general returned his attention to the scroll. When he finished he set it on his table and sighed. ¡°I never imagined Fredric would die so young. He always seemed invincible. I guess no one is truly invincible, are they?¡±

    ¡°No, sir.¡±

    ¡°So what did you want to talk to me about?¡±

    ¡°Lizzy. She told me she wants me to be her next bearer and that she wouldn¡¯t accept anyone else.¡±

    The general laughed. That was about what he¡¯d expected in all honesty. ¡°Damien, swords don¡¯t give orders to swordsmen. The demon sword is a tool to be used as we see fit. It doesn¡¯t have any say in the matter.¡±

    ¡°The thing is, General, she does have a say. Lizzy has her own will. She shares her power with her bearers because she chooses to. After all, you know she won¡¯t work with a woman. No one has ever questioned that. If Lizzy refuses whoever you choose, all she¡¯ll be is an exceptionally well-made sword.¡± Damien didn¡¯t add that if she wished she could do far worse than remain dormant if anyone picked her up against her will.

    ¡°It¡¯s never done that before. Why would it do so now?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think she ever cared before.¡± Damien shrugged, not wanting to talk about his relationship with Lizzy.

    ¡°Considering the fact that she¡¯s been a loyal ally to the kingdom for hundreds of years it doesn¡¯t seem too much to ask that you respect her wishes on this.¡±

    ¡°Even if I agreed with you, I doubt the other generals would vote to give the sword to you. We each have our favorites. We all agreed years ago that if anything happened to your father each general would choose a champion and they¡¯d fight to see who inherited the sword. They won¡¯t change their minds on your say-so.¡±

    ¡°I understand. I just wanted to fill you in on the situation. Should the generals change their minds I¡¯d be delighted to succeed my father as Lizzy¡¯s bearer.¡±

 5.08

    Uncle Andy had given a fine speech extolling Dad¡¯s virtues and ignoring all of his faults. Damien had attended enough funerals to expect this. He and Jen had sat in the front row and spent two hours shaking hands, accepting condolences, and staring at an empty coffin. Every noble and merchant in the capital had turned out to offer their well wishes. Damien had no idea who most of them were and he doubted many of them had ever met his father. The funeral was more of a social event for them than anything. The whole proceeding couldn¡¯t have ended fast enough to suit him.

    After the noon meal, in an attempt to lighten the dismal atmosphere, the king had declared the tournament to select Lizzy¡¯s new bearer would be held in the courtyard. If some found the timing in poor taste they kept their concerns to themselves. Damien was happy for anything to take his mind off Dad¡¯s death and he suspected Jen felt the same.

    The tournament rules were simple. The captain of the guard drew a rough circle in the center of the courtyard where two of the generals¡¯ champions would square off. The loser was the one that got tossed out first. The last one standing won the right to be Lizzy¡¯s new bearer. Fat lot of good that would do him.

    Servants had brought the chairs from the funeral outside and laid them out in a circle facing the ring. Five members of the legion raised a soul force barrier to protect the spectators. Damien took a place of supposed honor between Jen and Karrie.

    The princess reached out and twined her fingers with his. Damien offered her a smile. She¡¯d been trying really hard to make him feel better and he appreciated that, but only time and an incinerated demon would put his heart at ease.

    When everyone had settled in Uncle Andy said, ¡°Let the tournament begin!¡±

    General Kord¡¯s champion entered the ring first, an almost seven-foot-tall blond man with so much muscle he must have weighed four hundred pounds. He had a strong, but not overwhelming, soul force. Lizzy would look like a toy in his hands. What was the general thinking, choosing someone like him as his champion?

    Admiral McAllen¡¯s champion entered next, a short, whip-thin man with a drooping mustache and a soul force that matched Jen¡¯s. He probably fought with the sort of style that would mesh well with Lizzy and with such a powerful soul force he should have no trouble beating General Kord¡¯s giant.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± Damien asked his sister.

    ¡°I think this farce is a waste of time. We should be demon hunting, not sitting here watching these fools dance around for a prize they¡¯ll never be able to collect.¡± Typical blunt Jen.

    The combatants accelerated to warlord speed and vanished from Damien¡¯s sight. Various cracks and thuds sounded from the ring as they fought. All around him spectators were staring, trying to figure out what was happening. Unless they were warlords they couldn¡¯t follow the action any better than Damien.

    ¡°How long will it take Lizzy to convince them that you¡¯re the only option they have?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°Not long. The real question is how stubborn the generals want to be about it. I warned General Kord, but I don¡¯t think he really believed me.¡±

    Speaking of the general, his champion came flying out of the dust, slammed into the barrier, and slumped to the ground. The admiral¡¯s champion raised his fists in victory. The second match ended in a quick win for General Taos¡¯s champion who ended up losing to Admiral McAllen¡¯s man.

    The barrier vanished and Uncle Andy went down to congratulate the winner. In the morning the generals and their champions would fly to The Citadel for a ceremony presenting the winner with Lizzy. Damien would have liked to be there to see what she did, but it was a private matter for the army, no sorcerers welcome.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The gathering broke up and Damien headed toward his room. Karrie showed no intention of letting go of his hand so they went together. All Damien wanted was to close his eyes and turn off his brain. Jen went the opposite way, probably to find someone to fight. He pitied anyone that took her up on the invitation.

    When they reached the cool interior of the castle Karrie said, ¡°What will you do now?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to take a nap.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°I meant in the days and weeks ahead.¡±

    Damien stopped and turned to face her. He knew what she meant, but like his father, Damien wasn¡¯t especially good at dealing with his emotions. He preferred to bottle them up and hope they went away. ¡°I¡¯m going to keep doing what I¡¯ve been doing until things calm down, then Jen and I will hunt down the demon that killed Dad and take care of it. After that there¡¯s still Connor Blackman to deal with.¡±

    ¡°What about us?¡±

    Damien stroked her cheek and she leaned into his hand. ¡°There¡¯re two more years until you have to be married. You may yet find a better match than me. There¡¯s no need to rush.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the only one for me. We could get married tomorrow and it would be fine as far as I¡¯m concerned.¡±

    Damien sighed and hugged her. He hadn¡¯t yet told Karrie that Lizzy wanted him to be her new bearer. When she agreed to share him somehow he doubted she meant full time. ¡°There¡¯s too much going on now. With the repairs to the city and everything, it would be awfully self-indulgent to be planning a wedding. Don¡¯t worry, two years isn¡¯t that long.¡±

    ¡°I guess. It¡¯s just I¡¯m sick of waiting.¡± She was mumbling into his chest so Damien only half heard what she said. Still he shivered a little when she repeated Eleck¡¯s words. The fallen druid had done horrible things because he couldn¡¯t wait any longer to be Wise One.

    Damien didn¡¯t think Karrie would do anything foolish, but you never knew. They resumed walking and Damien escorted her to the royal quarters.

    When they stopped by the door Karrie said, ¡°Why don¡¯t you stay for a while? Mom and Dad will be busy meeting and greeting for hours.¡±

    From the glint in her eye he suspected she had more than talking in mind. Since they were officially engaged no one would say anything if they went for a tumble, but Damien would feel guilty about it. He still harbored hopes that she would find a man that loved her. Or maybe he just wanted someone to get him off the hook. At the very least he had to wait until the business with Lizzy got sorted out.

    ¡°Tempting, but I¡¯m exhausted. See you at dinner?¡±

    She pouted for a moment then nodded. ¡°You can¡¯t put me off forever, you know.¡± She kissed him then slipped into the royal apartment.

    Damien stared at the closed door and shook his head, all too aware that she was right. Sooner or later he was either going to have to call the whole thing off, which would break her heart, not to mention seriously angering her parents, or accept that there was no good way out and make peace his new role.

    He trudged towards his room. Damien didn¡¯t want to think about Karrie anymore. He didn¡¯t want to think about Dad, Connor, demons, or anything else. He just wanted to close his eyes and forget it all.

    When Damien reached his room the door stood partway open. He sent power to his shield and readied a blast. With his defenses ready, Damien shoved the door open and lunged through, ready to obliterate anything waiting.

    ¡°Not exactly the greeting I expected.¡± Imogen lay naked on his bed, a little smile playing around her lips.

    Damien gestured and the door closed. The last thing he needed was for some servant to walk by, see the two of them together, and tell Karrie. While he wanted to find a way to end the engagement, that wasn¡¯t a method he found acceptable.

    ¡°Why are you here?¡± Damien tried to focus on her eyes and failed. He tried to look away and failed again. Her body was like a magnet that drew his gaze. As long as it only drew his gaze he supposed it would be okay.

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d be sad.¡± She rolled out of bed and slithered across the room toward him. Imogen wrapped her arms around his neck, their lips only inches apart, her breath warm on his face. ¡°I wanted to cheer you up. We are teammates, right?¡±

    Damien¡¯s mind raced as he tried to think of a way to escape Imogen without touching her. If he touched her he was finished. No man had enough willpower to resist her under these conditions. Only the mental image of a weeping Karrie and furious Uncle Andy kept him from accepting Imogen¡¯s offer. He owed them both better than what he was contemplating.

    ¡°I told you I¡¯m engaged, right? I know we¡¯ve had this conversation before. While I appreciate the gesture¡­¡± Damien¡¯s whole body shivered. He really appreciated the gesture. ¡°I won¡¯t go behind Karrie¡¯s back, however you tempt me.¡±

    Imogen stepped back, but kept her hands on his shoulders. ¡°You know this sort of honorable behavior only makes me want you more. When you get tired of pretending with the princess, I¡¯ll be waiting.¡±

 5.09

    Once all the activities surrounding his father¡¯s funeral wound down a relieved Damien returned to work. Even hauling debris to the fire was better than listening to people who never even knew his father telling him what a great man he was.

    While Damien would never claim Dad wasn¡¯t great, the areas of his greatness were extremely narrow and revolved around killing and teaching others how to kill. In a lot of other areas, Dad was a jerk. He had all the warmth of the steel he wielded with such skill. Despite their issues, Damien found he missed his father. It felt like one of the few constants in his life had been yanked out from under him.

    He landed beside a wobbling structure that looked to have once served as a feed store. Half of it had collapsed and five guys wielding long gaffs were yanking on what remained, trying to pull it down.

    ¡°Give you fellas a hand?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°We¡¯d appreciate that,¡± said the group spokesman, a gray-haired man in his mid-fifties.

    ¡°Anything inside you want to salvage?¡±

    A brief discussion ensued. When they came to a consensus the spokesman shook his head. ¡°I doubt anything¡¯s usable after this.¡±

    Damien nodded, conjured a box around the ruined structure, and crushed it down to a manageable size. If only they could do the same with every damaged building the cleanup would be finished by now. The workers stared at Damien with open awe.

    Damien saluted and flew off to the fire. He¡¯d only passed the three-quarter point on his flight when a globe of his master¡¯s soul force appeared and formed the familiar summons: throne room.

    When he¡¯d made his delivery Damien headed for the castle. Once more the throne room had been cleared of everyone but the king and archmage. Damien glanced at the archmage and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Master?¡±

    ¡°The generals want you back at The Citadel as soon as possible. It seems the demon sword is giving them some trouble.¡±

    Damien sighed. ¡°I told General Kord Lizzy wouldn¡¯t accept their champion. He didn¡¯t pay me the least attention. What happened?¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t offer details, only that they wanted you there, now.¡± The archmage rubbed her temples. ¡°We¡¯ve got other problems as well, but they¡¯ll keep until you return.¡±

    ¡°Damien,¡± Uncle Andy said. ¡°When you arrive try not to say ¡®I told you so.¡¯ The generals can be prickly about that sort of thing.¡±

    He smiled and put a hand on his chest. ¡°I¡¯d never do such a thing.¡±

    That brought a smile to the king¡¯s weary face, just as Damien had hoped it would. ¡°Just mind your manners.¡±

    ¡°Will do. Any messages for them?¡± When both his master and Uncle Andy shook their heads Damien said, ¡°I should probably head out now.¡±

    The familiar flight to The Citadel took only a couple hours and he arrived before noon. Not wanting to waste time Damien landed just in front of the keep doors and marched inside. The entry hall was empty as all the students remaining were out in the yard training which begged the question: Where were the generals? He shrugged and headed straight to the armory. If they weren¡¯t there the guards could probably tell him where to go.

    Damien¡¯s footfalls echoed in the empty hall. The two warlords on guard duty straightened as he approached. He stopped and crossed his arms. ¡°Are the generals inside?¡±

    ¡°We were told to send you to the commandant¡¯s office,¡± the older of the two guards said. The warlord looked up and down the hall to make sure they were alone. ¡°If you can resolve this business we¡¯d appreciate it. We¡¯re thoroughly sick of standing out in this hall doing nothing.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Damien grinned, such a warlord thing to say. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best, guys, but I can¡¯t make any promises.¡±

    He left the guards and jogged across the hall to his father¡¯s old office. They¡¯d left the door partway open so he poked his head in. The generals, along with two of the four champions, packed Dad¡¯s office. General Kord sat behind the desk and waved Damien in. Seeing someone else sitting in his father¡¯s chair shocked Damien for a moment, but he shook it off. Someone else would be sitting in it from now on so he might as well get used to it.

    It seemed the northern general would serve as the group¡¯s speaker. Probably because he knew Damien the best.

    Damien bowed to the room. ¡°Gentlemen, you summoned me?¡±

    ¡°Damien.¡± General Kord gestured to the empty chair in front of the desk. ¡°Thanks for coming so quickly.¡±

    Damien settled into the hardback chair. ¡°Of course, sir. How can I help?¡±

    ¡°You can tell that damn sword to stop being so unreasonable and do its duty,¡± Admiral McAllen said. His champion was one of the two that were missing.

    Damien craned his neck to look back at the admiral. ¡°As I told General Kord, Lizzy has her own will. I can¡¯t command her to do something she doesn¡¯t want to any more than you can.¡± He turned back to General Kord. ¡°What exactly happened?¡±

    General Kord sighed. ¡°When we arrived Lieutenant Stevens went directly to the armory to collect the sword. The moment he touched it his face went slack and a minute later he dropped it and told us it wouldn¡¯t accept him and further warned him not to touch it again. Admiral McAllen ordered him to ignore the sword¡¯s warning and take up his blade.¡±

    Damien winced. ¡°That might not have been the best idea.¡±

    ¡°No. Lieutenant Stevens was blasted into the armory wall with enough force to crack it. His core was damaged by the power overload and he hasn¡¯t yet recovered, though the healers are optimistic.¡±

    ¡°I noticed another champion is also missing,¡± Damien said. ¡°Did someone else attempt to pick Lizzy up against her will?¡±

    General Kord studied the top of the empty desk. ¡°General Taos said that as runner-up his man should have a chance to wield the demon sword. He¡¯s still unconscious.¡±

    Damien shook his head. ¡°So is everyone now agreed that I should be Lizzy¡¯s bearer?¡±

    The generals all began shouting so that Damien couldn¡¯t make out what any individual was saying. General Kord raised his hands, trying to calm everyone down. When the noise subsided he said, ¡°We hoped you could convince the sword to work with our champion.¡±

    ¡°I thought I made it clear before. Nothing I say will change her mind. It¡¯s me or no one.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not even a warlord.¡± A slender man with deeply tanned skin and a trimmed and oiled beard leaned over Damien. ¡°How could you even begin to use the demon sword?¡±

    Though Damien had never met General Taos before today he recognized the man from descriptions he¡¯d heard. The way he stood indicated he thought it possible to intimidate Damien into doing the impossible.

    ¡°Lizzy is a risen demon spirit. Her soul force is divine in nature.¡± Damien sounded like one of his teachers giving a lesson to a first-year student. If the generals resented the lecture they said nothing. ¡°Divine soul force can be used either internally or externally. Therefore she can augment my powers just as well as a warlord¡¯s, perhaps better as she was originally created by a sorcerer in the Old Empire to be his partner. In any event she¡¯s chosen me to be her partner and unless you want one of the kingdom¡¯s most powerful weapons to sit around gathering dust you don¡¯t really have much choice.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no record of the sword ever being used by a sorcerer,¡± General Taos said. ¡°We have only your word. Unless you can prove you can use the sword I see no reason to allow you to have it.¡±

    There were murmurs of agreement from the other generals at this suggestion. General Kord raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you say, Damien, are you willing to prove your claim to the sword?¡±

    Damien shrugged. If this was what it took to get the generals¡¯ approval he¡¯d put on a show for them, though it seemed like a waste of time. ¡°Would it be sufficient to pick her up and not get knocked unconscious?¡±

    General Kord smiled at that. ¡°It would certainly put you ahead of all the other contenders, but I think we¡¯ll need something a little more dramatic. When your father used the sword he could kill a hundred enemies in a few seconds.¡±

    ¡°I can already do that, depending on the enemy.¡±

    ¡°Just use your imagination,¡± General Taos sneered. ¡°I¡¯m sure a sorcerer with your reputation can think of something suitable.¡±

    The meeting ended with everyone following Damien back to the armory. Seeing the group approaching the warlords on guard duty hastened to pull the door open. Inside dozens of racks held thousands of weapons of all sorts, from dirks to great swords, longbows and crossbows with such heavy draws a normal person couldn¡¯t even think of pulling one. All by herself, floating above a stone table, surrounded by smoke-colored flames, waited Lizzy.

    The warmth of her mental touch caressed Damien the moment he entered the room. There were too many people around for her to bring him into her world, but the moment they were alone he looked forward to seeing her. Lizzy flew across the armory, causing the generals to flinch, and settled into his hand. He ran the first two fingers of his left hand along the length of her polished blade, soothing her and causing the flames to vanish.

    ¡°I missed you,¡± Damien whispered.

 5.10

    With Lizzy comfortably settled into his hand, Damien turned to the generals. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose that¡¯s enough of a demonstration that I¡¯m an acceptable bearer?¡±

    They all exchanged looks before General Taos and Admiral McAllen separated themselves from the group. ¡°I need to see more,¡± the admiral said.

    ¡°As do I,¡± General Taos said.

    ¡°All right, but if we¡¯re going to do this we¡¯d better go outside.¡± Damien strode past the generals and toward the doors. Under his breath he muttered, ¡°Any ideas what we can do to convince them we¡¯ll be a good team?¡±

    Perhaps a soul force construct? Something bigger than anything they¡¯ve ever seen? I recommend a dragon.

    That might work. ¡°How do I use your power?¡±

    When you draw power from your core I¡¯ll add my power to the stream then you shape the combined energy just like you would your regular power.

    That sounded simple enough. Of course talking about a thing and doing it were totally different. Well, if this was what he had to do to convince the generals then he¡¯d do it.

    The little group left the keep and walked across the yard. The students had stopped their drills and everyone turned to stare at the generals. It wasn¡¯t every day that four of the most powerful men in the kingdom gathered in one place. When they were a good fifteen paces from the keep Damien stopped.

    ¡°What are you going to do?¡± General Kord asked.

    Damien grinned. ¡°I don¡¯t want to spoil the surprise.¡±

    One of the champions standing behind the generals snorted. Damien moved a little ways away from his audience and raised Lizzy over his head. Since he was going more for show than effect why not have a little fun?

    Gray fire blazed around her. Damien drew power from his core. The moment he did a second stream of power entered the flow. Far faster than he expected a golden sphere streaked with gray the size of a small house appeared above his head. He shaped the sphere into a dragon, adding power constantly.

    By the time the construct actually looked like he wanted it to the dragon¡¯s wings blocked out the sun and it towered over the keep. He and Lizzy still had power left, but from the shocked muttering behind him he figured he¡¯d made his point. Just to be sure Damien had the dragon throw its head skyward and breathe gray flames.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°Is that sufficient, gentlemen?¡± Damien asked.

    Everyone stared at the dragon, seeming unable to speak. Damien absorbed the construct, separating his power from Lizzy¡¯s as he went. When the dragon had vanished the four generals were gaping at him.

    ¡°I never dreamed such a thing could be done,¡± General Taos said, all traces of his previous disdain gone. ¡°With such power at his disposal, why would the king even need armies?¡±

    Damien had no answer for that and the general didn¡¯t seem to expect one. General Kord scratched his beard. ¡°I vote we let Damien keep the sword.¡±

    The others quickly concurred, whether because they really thought the idea a good one or because they feared what he might do if they tried to take Lizzy away from him Damien didn¡¯t know. The only thing that mattered was that they were together again.

    The generals dismissed Damien and he flew back toward the capital. When he was well out of sight of The Citadel he found a small clearing in the Great Green, landed, conjured a chair, and settled in. The moment he was comfortable Lizzy brought him into her world.

    Damien¡¯s psychic image had barely solidified when she wrapped her arms and wings around him and started crying.

    He¡¯d never seen her so upset. Damien stroked her hair as they drifted through the night sky. When she got herself under control Lizzy moved a few feet away. She looked amazing as always, with her black hair and wings and flawless figure.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Damien. I couldn¡¯t save him. I gave Fredric all the power he could hold, but it wasn¡¯t enough. The demon was too strong and by the time we realized it, it was too late to escape.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± Damien said. ¡°I know you did everything possible. Some things are simply beyond anyone¡¯s control.¡±

    They embraced again and when they finally came up for air Lizzy said, ¡°I knew you¡¯d understand.¡±

    ¡°Can you show it to me? The demon I mean.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Jen means to kill it and I have to help her. If this thing defeated you and Dad together then she doesn¡¯t stand a chance on her own. Not to mention leaving such a dangerous creature to wander around is just asking for trouble.¡±

    Lizzy frowned, but a moment later an insubstantial black figure appeared a few feet from them. The creature¡¯s glowing red eyes were the only distinct feature on it. Damien flew around the illusion, trying to get a better look. He¡¯d seen something like this before, in the books he read when they were looking for clues about Connor. What was it?

    His eyebrows shot up. ¡°It¡¯s a smoke demon!¡±

    Lizzy flew up behind him and rested her head on his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of such a thing.¡± Her breath tickled his ear.

    ¡°They¡¯re insanely difficult to create. According to a book I read in the library at The Tower, a warlock has to fuse a demon¡¯s essence to the tiny particles drifting in a cloud of smoke. Its form renders it immune to any sort of physical attack. Outside of an actual demon lord, the two of you couldn¡¯t have come up against a more difficult opponent. It¡¯s almost like someone intended for you to fail.¡±

    She flew around in front of him. ¡°Do you think someone tricked that farmer into telling us about the demon?¡±

    ¡°Maybe, or maybe he was a willing participant in setting the trap. Either way, after we deal with the demon we have to have a chat with the good farmer.¡±

 5.11

    Damien lingered in Lizzy¡¯s world for a thoroughly enjoyable hour before returning to his physical body and flying back to the capital. He reached the castle around mid-afternoon. The guards all gave him searching looks as he walked across the courtyard with a bare blade in his hand. Lizzy had lost her sheath when Dad fell, but he figured she¡¯d fit well enough in the scabbard he used for his ordinary sword.

    He jogged through the halls to his room, Lizzy wrapped in an invisibility field so he wouldn¡¯t scare the servants. Damien reached his room, shut the door and sighed. His sword sat on his desk where he¡¯d left it the night before. He only remembered to grab it about half the time unless he was on a mission. Lizzy floated beside him while he yanked the old sword out of its scabbard and tossed it on the bed. She fit perfectly, just as he¡¯d hoped.

    Smiling, Damien sat in his soft chair with her across his knees and remembered the day four years ago when he first went to The Tower. How badly he had wanted to swap out his old sword and bring Lizzy with him.

    He hadn¡¯t been able to fulfill his wish that day, but today he had. They were partners now, he¡¯d see her every day not just a handful of times each year. The only thing that would have made it perfect was if Dad had just retired and left Lizzy to him. But he hadn¡¯t and Damien needed to accept that, for Jen¡¯s sake as much as his own. Her almost overwhelming rage worried Damien. He feared she might do something she¡¯d regret.

    Damien yawned. He needed something to eat then he had to find his master. He hoped she¡¯d give him permission to hunt down the smoke demon with Jen. If she didn¡¯t he feared Jen might try to handle it herself and he couldn¡¯t allow that. She was the only family he had left. Damien couldn¡¯t let her throw her life away against an opponent she had no hope of beating.

    He was about to get up when someone knocked on the door. Maybe Jen had heard he¡¯d returned and come to find him. That would make things easier.

    ¡°Come in.¡±

    The door opened and Karrie stood in the doorway, her normally smiling face creased in a frown. She stepped inside and closed the door. ¡°So it¡¯s true. Daddy said you¡¯d gone to try and convince the generals to let you have your father¡¯s sword. I see you succeeded.¡±

    She didn¡¯t sound happy for him.

    ¡°Yeah, it took a bit of doing, but in the end they saw things my way.¡± Damien stroked Lizzy¡¯s hilt.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.Karrie stared at his hand, her frown deepening. ¡°When I agreed to share you this wasn¡¯t what I expected. You were only supposed to see her occasionally. Now you¡¯ll always be together. You hardly pay any attention to me as it is. How are we supposed to make this work if she¡¯s always with you? It¡¯s not fair.¡±

    She had a point. It wasn¡¯t fair, but Damien had no intention of spending less time with Lizzy. When this whole business began Karrie knew she wasn¡¯t his first choice. If she had a problem with that he¡¯d be happy to end their engagement. In truth he¡¯d had nothing but second thoughts since the day he agreed to it.

    ¡°What do you suggest?¡± Damien asked. ¡°If you want to call the whole thing off I understand.¡±

    She stared at him. ¡°Call it off? Would you really choose that spirit over me?¡±

    Damien cocked his head. ¡°I thought I made that clear when we first discussed this. I love Lizzy. While I don¡¯t mind helping you out with Sig and the other noble boys that have been bothering you, I¡¯ve never thought of you as more than a friend.¡±

    She slumped on the edge of the bed, missing the razor edge of his sword by inches. ¡°I¡¯ve been lying to myself all this time, haven¡¯t I? I kept thinking once our relationship became official, became real, you¡¯d discover you loved me too. If I just kept smiling and gave you time you¡¯d start to look at me the way I did you. That¡¯s never going to happen is it? You¡¯ll never see me as anything more than a little girl you need to protect.¡±

    A thin trickle of soul force moved his old sword to the corner of his room and leaned it against the wall. Damien scooted his chair over so their hands were almost touching. He reached out and lifted her chin until their gazes met. ¡°It was never my intention to hurt you. I thought we both understood that this was an arrangement of convenience for you. While I knew you harbored some illusions that it might become more, when you agreed to share me with Lizzy I thought you¡¯d made peace with our relationship. If you want to end this we should do it now. The longer it goes the harder it will be when you make up your mind.¡±

    She sniffed back tears. ¡°Do you want to end it?¡±

    Damien wanted to shout yes at the top of his lungs, but he¡¯d given his word. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. ¡°Whatever you decide I¡¯ll accept. I promised to help you and I won¡¯t go back on that unless you say it¡¯s okay.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate that, but what do you want?¡±

    What did he want? He thought about Lizzy and how he certainly wanted to be with her as much as possible. He also thought about Imogen lying naked where Karrie sat now and how different his reaction to the older woman had been. Could he sit there and say he¡¯d ever think of Karrie as anything but a friend? Even though she was sixteen, when he looked at her he saw the eight-year-old girl that used to chase him and John around when they were kids.

    ¡°I want you to be happy, but I can¡¯t pretend I¡¯ll ever feel the way you want me to. You should try and find someone who can love you the way you deserve. That said, you¡¯re welcome to introduce me to any of the boys that don¡¯t treat you properly. I¡¯ll explain the error of their ways.¡±

    She smiled and laughed. ¡°This really was a stupid idea, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    Damien brushed her tears away. ¡°Sometimes you have to try the wrong thing before you find the right thing. I may not be the best husband for you, but I¡¯ll always do my best to keep you safe and happy.¡±

 5.12

    ¡°Master?¡± Damien stuck his head in the archmage¡¯s office and found her at her desk reading from one of the score or so scrolls littering its surface. Damien had walked Karrie back to the royal apartment before turning toward the stairs and heading down to find the archmage. As he¡¯d walked through the halls he couldn¡¯t stop smiling. Lizzy fit perfectly in the harness Dad bought him for his name day. It almost felt like he¡¯d known Damien would end up with her. He shivered at the thought.

    Once he reached the first floor he¡¯d detoured past the kitchen to collect whatever he could wheedle out of the cook for a late lunch, making sure to collect enough to share with his master on the assumption that she¡¯d forgotten to eat again.

    The archmage looked up. ¡°Come in. Is that stew?¡±

    Damien had a soul force basket full of leftovers to share with her. ¡°Yeah, chicken and sausage. I brought enough for both of us.¡±

    He conjured a second surface above the tabletop and spread out bowls of stew along with crusty bread, a half bottle of red wine and mugs. They ate in silence for a minute before the archmage said, ¡°How¡¯d it go with the generals?¡±

    ¡°Good. They agreed to let me keep Lizzy.¡± Damien reached back and patted her hilt. ¡°Not that she gave them much choice. Also I learned a smoke demon killed Dad. I need to find my sister and make preparations to hunt it down, assuming it¡¯s okay with you. We also wanted to check out the farmer that led him to the demon and make sure he¡¯s not involved in anything he shouldn¡¯t be.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    His master frowned around a mouthful of stew. ¡°I had a mission for you, but hunting down a demon is certainly a priority as well. Considering it killed your father I suppose it¡¯s only natural for you to want to deal with it yourself. All right, I¡¯ll assign someone else to help Imogen with the other mission. Maybe Lon, they¡¯ve worked together before.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Master. What was your other mission?¡±

    ¡°Searching for missing sorcerers. Six inquisitors have stopped reporting in over the last month. It¡¯s not unusual for one or two of them to lose track of time, but six is unheard of. If it¡¯s nothing, fine, but I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s more than nothing.¡±

    ¡°More soul force eaters? Jen and I killed all the ones Eleck had, but who knows how many more there may be.¡±

    She shrugged and ate the last of her stew. ¡°Who knows. Anything I said would be total speculation at this point. Lon and Imogen will get to the bottom of it. Go find your sister and hunt down Fredric¡¯s murderer. I need your mind clear and focused for when we find Connor. Good luck, Damien. And leave the wine.¡±

    Damien bowed, gathered up the remnants of their lunch, and took his leave. Imogen wouldn¡¯t be thrilled that he¡¯d ducked out on a mission with her. He wasn¡¯t certain how he felt. It might have been fun to introduce her to Lizzy.

    I¡¯d like to meet her as well. You¡¯ve certainly thought about her often enough.

    ¡°For someone that doesn¡¯t get jealous you do a good imitation.¡±

    I¡¯m not jealous. This is just the first woman you¡¯ve ever shown any real interest in. I¡¯m curious to see what makes her so special.

    ¡°For starters Imogen reminds me a little of you.¡±

    Me?

    ¡°Sure. She¡¯s beautiful, complicated, and about half the time I see her she doesn¡¯t have any clothes on.¡±

    Lizzy¡¯s laughter filled in his weary mind like cool water on a burn. If anything would get him through this she would. He left the castle to find Jen. Maybe killing a demon would cool her anger.

 5.13

    Karrie closed the door and leaned against it. It was over. She knew it, maybe in her heart she¡¯d always known it wouldn¡¯t work. Especially after Sig had tried to do to her what she¡¯d done to Damien. She¡¯d basically bullied, nagged, and cajoled him into agreeing to marry her. Even after she knew he didn¡¯t love her, she¡¯d kept at him. She¡¯d been an idiot to think things would change.

    Her mother emerged from the back room and swept into the living room. She had on a simple cream dress without jewelry or decoration and somehow she made it seem elegant. Karrie didn¡¯t know how she managed it.

    ¡°How¡¯d your visit with Damien go, dear?¡±

    Karrie slogged over to the couch and collapsed into it. ¡°I think we¡¯re calling off the engagement.¡±

    Her mother rushed over and sat beside her. ¡°Have you lost your mind? After everything you went through to convince him to agree, you decide to let him go after only six weeks. What happened?¡±

    Karrie told her and when she finished her mother shook her head. ¡°You really are a child. Love has nothing to do with marriage when nobles are involved. It¡¯s about power. I don¡¯t care if Damien sleeps with every woman in the kingdom except you, at least after you conceive an heir or two. As far as his bizarre fascination with that sword, who cares? The spirit in the sword is no different than any other fantasy woman a man might have. As far as the world is concerned it¡¯s just a weapon.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°No buts. I don¡¯t care what you need to do, what you promise him, just get Damien to go through with the marriage. After that all you need to do is coax him into bed enough times to get a kid or two out of him. Once that¡¯s done you can be married in name only for all the difference it makes. If you don¡¯t see this through there¡¯s no telling who you¡¯ll end up with. Most likely a manipulative schemer who will undercut you at every opportunity or a bully that will try to force you to do what he wants, like Sig tried to.¡±

    Karrie sighed. Mom made it sound so simple. Maybe it was. Damien said it was up to her. If she explained the situation to him just like Mom did for her, he¡¯d probably do it as a favor. ¡°A manipulative schemer, huh? Sounds like that sort of person would be a good match for me.¡±

    Her mother grabbed Karrie by the shoulders and shook her. ¡°You need to let go of these childish ideas. There can only be one schemer in a marriage and since you¡¯re not a warlord or a sorcerer it needs to be you. Go now, before he gets too used to the idea that he¡¯s free to do whatever he wants.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s heading out on a mission. I doubt I¡¯ll catch him before he leaves.¡±

    Her mother stood, dragging Karrie to her feet. ¡°Try.¡±

 5.14

    Damien strode through the slowly recovering city, the sounds of hammers and saws mingling with the crash of buildings being demolished. The piney scent of sawdust lay over everything. Three new lumber camps had opened up only a few miles from the city to try and keep up with demand from the builders.

    After inquiring of several warlords on duty Damien learned his sister commanded a cleanup crew in the northeast quadrant of the city near the slaughterhouses. From the sound of it the crews were still pulling bodies out of the rubble.

    Damien shuddered. Every day it seemed the body count rose by ten or twelve. He didn¡¯t envy whoever had to keep track of that list.

    Everywhere he went smiles and waves greeted Damien. He returned the greetings and kept moving, not entirely comfortable with all the attention. He couldn¡¯t avoid it, after all he had received the Medal of Valor and later Uncle Andy announced him as the princess¡¯s fianc¨¦. Maybe if she gave up on the wedding he could go back to being anonymous.

    Damien laughed at himself. It wasn¡¯t like anyone would forget him just because he wasn¡¯t marrying Karrie anymore.

    As he walked Damien kept his eyes peeled for an intact shop where he might pick up a large flask of steel or silver. Ten blocks from the castle he finally found a general store that was open and appeared well stocked. Five minutes of searching the shelves turned up a quart flask in etched silver. It was far fancier than what he needed and Damien feared the etching might weaken the sides, but that was nothing he couldn¡¯t fix with a little shaping. He almost balked at the two-royal price, but he didn¡¯t feel like searching the rest of the day so he paid up.

    It seemed prices on everything had gone up since the quake, though not as much as they might have. After a gouging merchant had been horsewhipped by an angry mob none of his compatriots had dared charge too much, especially for necessities. Damien eyed the silver flask with its ivy etching. Apparently the merchants were trying to make their extra profits off luxury buyers. Probably a good idea. No one pitied rich people.

    I¡¯m not sure how much I¡¯ll be able to help you. I¡¯ve never been very good at precise targeting of soul force.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, once we get it in the flask, I can handle the rest.¡±

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.Now that he had his flask secured in his belt pouch Damien focused on the remnant of his soul force living in Jen¡¯s sword and flew the rest of the way to join her. His sister¡¯s crew surrounded a badly damaged tenement. Jen was standing well back and barking orders to the six men and two women yanking on ropes to try and coax the back wall of the building to land where they wanted.

    She noticed him approaching. ¡°Everyone take a break.¡±

    The workers sighed and trudged over to sit in the shade of a nearby slaughterhouse. Jen stared at him with her arms crossed. ¡°Well?¡±

    ¡°They agreed to let me keep Lizzy and she knows where we can find the demon.¡±

    Jen offered a predatory grin and thrust a fist in the air. ¡°When do we leave?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a little late in the day. I say first thing in the morning. The last thing we want to do is face a smoke demon at night.¡±

    ¡°Smoke demon?¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°That¡¯s what killed Dad. They¡¯re immune to physical attacks so no matter how fast he cut he couldn¡¯t hurt it.¡±

    ¡°Then how am I going to kill it?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not.¡± Damien showed her the flask. ¡°I¡¯m going to trap it in here and break the bonds connecting the demon spirit to the smoke particles. Once that¡¯s done the demon won¡¯t be able to exist in this world and its energy will return to hell.¡±

    Jen frowned. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound very satisfying.¡±

    ¡°What can I tell you? That¡¯s the only way I¡¯ve seen to destroy one of these creatures. If there were some way to let you hack it up I¡¯d be only too glad to oblige.¡±

    ¡°At least I¡¯ll be there to see it captured.¡± Jen glared at him. ¡°You weren¡¯t thinking of trying to talk me out of going, were you?¡±

    He¡¯d been thinking exactly that. ¡°It never crossed my mind. This is as much your revenge as mine.¡±

    ¡°Good. We¡¯ve got a few more hours of daylight. I might as well finish up here.¡±

    Damien glanced at the wobbling walls. ¡°Want me to pull it down for you? It¡¯d be good practice for Lizzy and me.¡±

    It certainly will be. It took your father and I months to fully sync our powers.

    ¡°Knock yourself out. I¡¯m sure the others won¡¯t mind.¡±

    Damien frowned. How best to safely pull down those walls? He conjured a pair of hollow claws with his soul force then filled them with Lizzy¡¯s power. When they grabbed the walls the wood shattered under the pressure.

    Gently, Damien. Your power¡¯s been doubled. You have to be careful.

    Damien winced, both at his failure and Lizzy¡¯s admonition. He¡¯d only used a fraction of their potential power. How much gentler could he be? This reminded him of when he first started to learn how to use his soul force. It seemed everything he tried he ended up using too much strength. After several more crumbling efforts he brought the walls down with the equivalent of a butterfly kiss.

    The workers all cheered and Jen shook her head. It wasn¡¯t his most impressive effort, but at least the walls were down and no one had gotten hurt.

    Well done.

    Lizzy¡¯s praise meant more to him than all the cheering in the world.

 5.15

    Karrie wandered the halls in a daze. Several passing servants gave her confused looks, but no one approached her. She didn¡¯t feel angry, not even upset, just lost. Mom thought it didn¡¯t matter that Damien didn¡¯t love her and probably never would. The odds of her finding someone that both loved her and was an appropriate match were so slim they hardly bore thinking about.

    In that case Mom¡¯s point about simply selecting the strongest acceptable match that would let her do as she pleased made sense. And there was no one in the kingdom whose power even came close to Damien¡¯s, especially now that he had the demon sword.

    She sighed. And there was the problem. Lizzy, the demon sword, his one true love. Strange that the notion of him loving the spirit hadn¡¯t bothered her so much when it was hundreds of miles away in his father¡¯s possession. Now that they were together and would be all the time it made it seem like they were a real couple, perhaps the strangest in history, but a couple nonetheless.

    Could she really reconcile the practical considerations her mother thought so important with the fact that just thinking about Damien and Lizzy together all the time made her heart ache? She simply didn¡¯t know.

    Her wandering brought Karrie to a window on the second floor that looked out over the city. Everywhere she looked new construction jutted up, freshly hewn beams gleaming pale in the bright sun. Everyone was out there working hard while she moped about, trudging around like a zombie. She needed to find something to do, something useful, to take her mind off Damien. If she didn¡¯t think about it so much maybe a solution would appear like magic.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Karrie turned to find Salem standing in the entry of the hall. She had on a bloodstained apron over a gray dress and was holding a plate filled with meat, potatoes, and rolls. Seeing the food made Karrie¡¯s stomach rumble. She must have been wandering longer than she thought.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to intrude.¡± Salem turned to leave.

    ¡°Wait. Please join me.¡± Karrie waved her in. ¡°I was just looking out over the city, thinking.¡±

    Salem tiptoed closer, looking like she expected Karrie to turn and bite any moment. Considering their first meeting she couldn¡¯t blame the woman. Salem brought the food closer prompting Karrie¡¯s stomach to rumble again.

    Salem smiled. ¡°Would you like to join me? I took too much anyway.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. I believe I will.¡±

    A small table and two chairs appeared in the hall and Salem set the plate in the middle. Karrie sat first and Salem joined her. Salem grabbed a roll off the plate, took a bite, and sighed. ¡°These really are delightful. Damien got me hooked. He says your cook makes the finest rolls in the kingdom and I don¡¯t doubt it for a minute.¡±

    Karrie nibbled a piece of ham. ¡°Do you see much of Damien? I know the two of you are very busy.¡±

    ¡°From time to time. When he¡¯s not on a mission Damien checks in on me now and then to make sure I¡¯m settling in okay and that I have everything I need. He¡¯s very sweet.¡±

    Karrie finished her meat and managed a smile of her own. ¡°He is, isn¡¯t he.¡±

    ¡°And you two are engaged now.¡± Salem finished the roll and moved on to the potatoes. ¡°I haven¡¯t had a chance to offer my congratulations. I had a little crush on him myself you know.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Karrie raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Not that he ever did anything to encourage it,¡± Salem hastened to add. ¡°He was so strong, but also kind and gentle.¡± Her smile turned wistful. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m sure I¡¯m not telling you anything you don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Karrie stood up from the conjured table. She wouldn¡¯t force him to do something she knew he really didn¡¯t want to do. Damien was too good a person to take advantage of like that. Besides, even if they weren¡¯t married she had no doubt he¡¯d support her any way she needed him to. ¡°Thank you for the snack.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re leaving already? I didn¡¯t mean to chase you off.¡±

    Karrie shook her head. ¡°You didn¡¯t. In fact I have to thank you. You helped me sort out something that had been troubling me.¡±

    ¡°I did?¡± Salem stared at her, clearly not understanding.

    Karrie waved and walked back toward the royal apartment. Her mother wouldn¡¯t like it, but she was going to call off the engagement.

 5.16

    Karrie paused in front of the apartment door and gathered herself. She¡¯d never gone against her mother¡¯s wishes before, but in this case she felt she had no choice. It wasn¡¯t right to coerce Damien into doing something he didn¡¯t really want to. Karrie realized that now, and after talking to Salem she realized she didn¡¯t have to.

    Damien would support her even if they weren¡¯t married. True, she still had to find a husband within the next two years, but that was plenty of time to find someone she could live with and who wouldn¡¯t try and force her to do what he wanted. Perhaps the son of a minor noble house that would be so happy for the increase in status he wouldn¡¯t dare try and question her decisions.

    She nodded once and pushed the door open. Her parents sat at the dining room table together sharing a lunch of cold meat and salad. Perfect. Her timing couldn¡¯t have been any better.

    Her father smiled when she entered. ¡°Hello, sweetheart. Will you join us?¡±

    She crossed the entryway and sat beside her father. Not because he was closer, but because she wanted a little space between her and her mother. She took a piece of bread, a slice of roast beef, and made a small sandwich. When she¡¯d eaten half of it she said, ¡°I¡¯ve decided to call off the wedding with Damien.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Her mother took a sip of wine and frowned. ¡°I thought we discussed this.¡±

    ¡°We did, but I thought about it some more and I simply can¡¯t get over the fact that it¡¯s a mistake. I love Damien and I realized forcing him into something this important is wrong. It¡¯s selfish. What sort of queen will I be if I give in to my petty desires? How will I be able to do the right thing when it really matters? I have to do what¡¯s right, and now¡¯s a good time to start.¡±

    ¡°You foolish girl,¡± the queen said. It wasn¡¯t her mother that was looking at Karrie through eyes as hard as gems. ¡°Tell her, Andrew. Tell her she¡¯s being a willful child.¡±

    Her father smiled and patted Karrie¡¯s head. ¡°I¡¯d say this is the most grownup thing she¡¯s ever done and I couldn¡¯t be more proud. Putting someone else¡¯s happiness before your own, that¡¯s exactly the sort of thing a good ruler has to do. When the time comes, hopefully many years from now, you¡¯ll make a fine queen.¡±

    Karrie¡¯s heart lurched and tears ran down her cheeks. He understood. Not only did her father understand, he approved and was proud of her. She dropped her sandwich on the table and hugged him.

    ¡°Thanks, Daddy,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Two noble fools.¡± Her mother stood up, leaving her plate still half full. ¡°I find I¡¯ve lost my appetite.¡±

    She stalked off to her sewing room. Her father sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, she¡¯ll calm down in a day or two. Have you spoken to Damien yet?¡±

    ¡°Not yet. I thought I¡¯d wait until he finished his mission.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. I really am proud of you, sweetheart.¡± He kissed her cheek.

    ¡°I love you, Daddy.¡± Karrie sat beside him and finished eating, her heart lighter than it had been in months.

 5.17

    The next morning found Jen and Damien flying over the forest on a soul force disk toward where Lizzy said the demon lived. A pack of supplies sat between them. Damien wouldn¡¯t be able to fly them home until after he finished destroying the demon. He said he¡¯d spent a few hours the night before using sorcery to reinforce the flask to the point he felt confident it would hold the demon long enough for him to banish it. Jen didn¡¯t understand the process, but he seemed satisfied it would work and that was enough for her.

    Heaven¡¯s mercy, she wanted badly to slice that monster up for what it had done to her father. Jen leaned forward over the rail, her hands clenching and relaxing. ¡°How much further?¡±

    Another hour or so. We need to walk part of the way since there¡¯s no place to land right next to the cave.

    A shiver ran through Jen. How did Damien stand having that voice in his head? Not that it sounded unpleasant, sort of smoky and sultry. Maybe if you were a man it held more appeal, but as for Jen it sent a chill up her spine.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Damien asked. He¡¯d been glancing at her off and on since they left the castle at dawn.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, little brother, just worry about dealing with the demon.¡±

    He nodded and looked away, his frown not lessened in the least. She appreciated that he didn¡¯t call her on the obvious lie she¡¯d just told. Jen hadn¡¯t been okay since they first got word of Dad¡¯s death. She couldn¡¯t concentrate. She wavered from furious to borderline sobbing one minute to the next. Her one slim hope was that putting an end to the creature that killed him would grant her some sort of peace.

    In truth she held little faith it would make any difference.

    It¡¯s down there.

    The demon sword¡¯s voice brought Jen out of her depressed musings. ¡°Where?¡±

    She studied the forest and hills below them, but nothing stood out even to her enhanced senses. Beside her Damien¡¯s gaze locked on one of the hills. ¡°There¡¯s a cave.¡± He pointed at the base of the hill.

    Jen followed his finger and finally saw it, little more than a shadow on the face of the steep hill. The cave didn¡¯t look like much. In fact she could hardly imagine a less remarkable place for such a remarkable man to die. ¡°Is it in there?¡±

    Damien nodded, his face a little pale. ¡°It¡¯s there and it¡¯s way stronger than I expected. Even after Lizzy warned me¡­Wow. It makes the one we fought look like an angry puppy beside a mastiff.¡±

    Damien brought the platform down in a flat meadow halfway between the tree line and the cave. The transport vanished and Jen started straight for the cave. She hadn¡¯t taken more than a couple steps when Damien¡¯s hand fell on her shoulder.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    ¡°Go easy. It may be in the back or it might be just past the opening. It¡¯s putting out so much power I can¡¯t tell its exact position.¡±

    They fell in shoulder to shoulder. Jen wanted to say how much it meant to her that they were doing this together, but when she tried her throat closed up and no words emerged. Maybe she¡¯d tell him after.

    The two of them stopped a few feet from the cave entrance. Just inside, two glowing dots hovered in the air at head height. She couldn¡¯t make out any details of the creature. Damien drew his flask out, but he didn¡¯t have a chance to do anything before the creature stepped out into the light.

    Jen gasped. This was no creature of smoke and haze. It was Dad, or at least his body.

    That thing was using her father¡¯s body. The flesh had a waxy look and brown liquid leaked out of his nose, mouth and ears. The eyes had long since deteriorated. In their place glowed crimson pits, like someone had put burning embers in his skull.

    Rotten lips split and spilled stinking fluid down his face as they pulled back from yellow teeth in a mocking smile. A sword of black energy, an exact duplicate of the demon blade he¡¯d carried in life, sprang to life in his right hand.

    Jen had her own sword drawn in an instant. Her rage boiled over and a torrent of soul force flowed from her core through her body. Not a moment too soon either. The thing inhabiting her father¡¯s body accelerated to warlord speed and rushed them.

    Jen tried to block the black sword, but it passed through her blade like smoke. Only her enhanced speed allowed her to dodge at the last second.

    She raced to put some distance between her and the dead thing in front of her. She spun to face the creature.

    It leered at her, clearly enjoying her panic. How could she fight if her weapon was useless?

    She barely completed the thought when a golden glow surrounded her blade. A safe distance in the air, Damien was pointing at her, his hand glowing. Her sword vibrated as the power he left in the weapon at its forging resonated with the new energy he provided.

    The monster wearing her father¡¯s body shifted its expression from a leer to a rage-filled snarl.

    That¡¯s right, you ugly son of a bitch. You¡¯re going to pay for using my father¡¯s body.

    They accelerated at the same instant. When she went to parry this time her sword hit with a satisfying crash.

    Thank you, little brother.

    They hacked at each other, making ten passes in as many seconds.

    The monster had speed, but lacked both the demon sword to augment its innate power and her father¡¯s natural skill. If it had possessed either she would have been dead already.

    As it was Jen stayed even with it. Her anger pushed her to be too aggressive. She needed to calm down and fight like her father had taught her.

    Jen didn¡¯t attack.

    Deep breath.

    She didn¡¯t parry.

    Deep breath.

    Her mind calmed. She flowed around her opponent¡¯s blade.

    It was so clumsy. How¡¯d she ever imagined this pale fraud retained any of her father¡¯s spirit?

    Each time she dodged the monster¡¯s attacks it grew more aggressive. It swung with all its might, giving no thought to defense.

    Jen spun away from an overhead slash and countered. Her glowing blade hacked the creature¡¯s arm off at the elbow.

    Black mist sprayed from the wound. Jen raised her hands to cover her face.

    The mist never reached her. When she lowered her hands the darkness was surging into the air. She looked up to see Damien with the flask in one hand, Lizzy in the other, both pointed at Dad¡¯s corpse.

    A golden tornado ripped the darkness out of his body through the wound she¡¯d made. The monster pulled back, trying to stop Damien from tearing out its essence.

    Jen knew exactly what she had to do. Her sword flashed and the monster¡¯s limbs fell, one after another, to the ground.

    Soon only a stump remained and black mist sprayed from each wound before flowing up into the flask.

 5.18

    Damien conjured a soul force seal over the mouth of the flask and landed beside Jen. She¡¯d handled the battle with Dad¡¯s animated corpse better than he feared when he first saw it. He¡¯d expected her anger to get the best of her, but she mastered it. That horror was a poor imitation of their father, but if she¡¯d gotten careless it would have killed her all the same.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t so bad.¡± Jen leaned on her sword, her core almost empty, gasping for air.

    Damien couldn¡¯t help smiling at her attempted bravado. He doubted she could fight again if their lives depended on it. The smile faded when he thought about the massive amount of corrupt energy pulsing in the cave. ¡°That was only a fraction of the demon¡¯s essence. The majority of it is still inside. I¡¯m afraid our work is nowhere near done.¡±

    Jen pushed herself straight and rested her sword on her shoulder. ¡°We¡¯d best get to it.¡±

    She wobbled when she took a step toward the cave. Damien guided her to a flat boulder and helped her sit. ¡°Why don¡¯t you rest here and let your soul force recover?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re doing this together.¡±

    ¡°Yes. You finished your part, now I have to do mine. It¡¯ll be a fifty-fifty split. You can¡¯t ask for a fairer deal than that.¡±

    Her face twisted like she wanted to argue some more, but exhaustion defeated stubbornness. ¡°If you haven¡¯t returned by the time I recover I¡¯m coming in after you.¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡± If he wasn¡¯t back by the time Jen recovered he¡¯d never be back, not alive anyway.

    Damien paused on his way to the cave and waved Lizzy at Dad¡¯s dismembered body. It disintegrated in an instant. No one would defile his father¡¯s remains again.

    He had barely set foot in the cave when the oppressive presence began to bear down on him. Damien pushed through, sending more power to his shield just in case the demon tried to attack before he reached its main body. That was the problem with an opponent that lacked a physical form: it could attack from anywhere.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Damien reached the end of the tunnel. The instant he entered the final chamber a hazy curtain formed over the exit.

    That¡¯s what it did last time.

    Yeah, but unlike Dad, Damien had more weapons at his disposal than Lizzy. Ahead of him the smoke demon began to take on a humanoid shape. Before it fully coalesced Damien conjured the same tornado he used outside. The small end emerged from his flask and it grew wider as it spun toward the demon.

    Particles were sucked into the vortex. Damien felt the corruption in the flask getting stronger and more dense. He divided his power, using a portion to reinforce the flask. If it broke then his efforts were for nothing.

    The moment he withdrew a portion of his strength the demon pulled away from the vortex. Damien snarled and leveled Lizzy at the creature. Streaks of gray fire mixed with the golden vortex as she infused her power.

    The demon¡¯s form bent and stretched as it fought the suction. Soon, instead of a human-sized, broad-shouldered form it resembled a piece of overstretched rubber. A third of it was inside, but the rest still resisted.

    ¡°Give it all you¡¯ve got!¡± Damien shouted.

    Lizzy¡¯s power rushed out. The tornado expanded and engulfed the demon, drawing it into the flask. Damien spun and pointed the flask at the haze blocking the exit. The barrier vanished instantly. When he no longer sensed any corruption, Damien capped the container with a plug of dense soul force formed from the remains of his portion of the vortex. He didn¡¯t dare try and use Lizzy¡¯s power to reinforce it. He needed more practice weaving their power together before he¡¯d trust that he could maintain the dual flows.

    Lizzy¡¯s gray flames vanished. Damien allowed himself a moment to breathe. The hardest part was over. A slow, steady stream of power would gradually shatter all the bonds holding the monster in this world. It would take time, but that he had.

    When Damien had collected himself he trudged back down the tunnel. Jen was silhouetted in the opening as she strode up the little slope to find him, her core mostly refilled. She looked no worse for her battle.

    ¡°Is it done?¡± she asked.

    Damien nodded and offered a weary smile. ¡°It¡¯s caught. All I have to do now is finish it off.¡±

    ¡°Halt, villains, and accept your judgment!¡±

    Damien spun toward the unexpected voice. At the base of the hill stood a woman similar in age to Damien and Jen. She had strawberry blond hair and wore shining mail with a white tabard bearing the device of a blue shield surrounding a black fortress. In her small hands she held a maul. The weapon¡¯s haft measured five feet and its head alone must have weighed fifteen pounds.

    The young woman lifted the weapon like it weighed nothing and charged. It seemed they were about to meet their first paladin.

 5.19

    Angelic soul force filled the paladin¡¯s core to bursting. She had been chosen by an angel to be its mortal representative, much the way a warlock served a demon lord. The only difference was an angel would only agree to work with the most pure-hearted mortals, while a demon lord would make a contract with any mortal stupid enough to risk their eternal soul.

    If only the woman would listen for a second Damien could explain that they weren¡¯t villains and in fact most likely were working toward the same goal: destroying the demon. He didn¡¯t have a chance to speak before Jen raised her sword and accelerated to warlord speed.

    In short order the clash of steel on steel rang through the meadow. Damien groaned at the pointless fight. He and Jen weren¡¯t enemies of the holy warrior. If he could just explain¡­

    The force of their impact sent a shockwave through the air and shook the ground. The two women skidded away from each other, slowing down enough for Damien to see them.

    ¡°Excuse¡ª¡±

    Warlord and paladin both raced back together. At this rate one of them would kill the other. Damien needed to end the fight before then, but how? Neither of them seemed interested in listening to him. If they''d just stop fighting for half a minute! He could stop them easily enough, but all his power was going to maintaining the integrity of the flask.

    Did you forget about me?

    Damien grinned. In fact he had forgotten about Lizzy¡¯s extra power. That should be enough to get the job done. In response to his silent request Lizzy¡¯s power flowed into him. Damien sent it down the outside of his leg then stomped on the ground.

    The earth shook.

    Jen and the paladin both staggered and fell to their knees.

    ¡°Enough!¡± Damien said.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Jen asked. ¡°She threatened us.¡±

    ¡°This trick won¡¯t save you, villain,¡± the paladin said, her face set in a grim line.

    Damien ground his teeth. What had the world come to when he was the reasonable one? ¡°Do you really want to kill a paladin, sis?¡±

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it¡°As if a mere warlord could defeat a holy knight.¡±

    Jen¡¯s hand tightened on the grip of her sword. Damien had to act fast.

    ¡°And you.¡± He turned his attention to the paladin. ¡°Did you even use your soul sight before you attacked?¡±

    Her stern visage cracked. ¡°I¡­That is, I saw the demon and you were carrying it from this place and¡­and¡­¡±

    ¡°And you assumed the rest. You haven¡¯t been a paladin very long, have you?¡±

    ¡°I, no, I mean, yes. The holy one invested me with a portion of his spirit three months ago.¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°Uh-huh. Do your superiors even know you¡¯ve left the great fortress?¡±

    ¡°I felt drawn to the life of a wandering knight errant. The holy one said I should serve however I thought best. Hey!¡± She finally got her bearings back. ¡°How do you know where I was invested?¡±

    ¡°Your heraldry. We studied the paladin orders at The Tower. How about you use your powers to study our auras before someone really gets hurt.¡±

    The paladin huffed out a sigh. ¡°Fine. But if you¡¯re evil I¡¯m still going to smite you.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡±

    While the lady knight concentrated Jen walked over beside him. ¡°What¡¯s soul sight?¡±

    ¡°Paladins can see a person¡¯s aura and determine if they¡¯re generally good or evil. Doesn¡¯t The Citadel have a class on paladins?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but it mostly covers how to fight them. I don¡¯t remember the master mentioning any powers that didn¡¯t involve combat.¡±

    Damien sighed, not terribly surprised. Citadel training was effective, but very narrow. The paladin had scrambled up on her heels and was staring at them with glowing white eyes.

    ¡°Talk about creepy.¡± Jen shuddered.

    When the glow faded the paladin hung her head. ¡°I am so sorry. Without a closer look I couldn¡¯t separate your auras from the demon¡¯s. I might have killed you both.¡±

    Jen snorted, but forbore comment. She sheathed her sword and tugged on Damien¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Come on.¡±

    Damien turned to follow his sister. They hadn¡¯t gone far when the paladin caught up. ¡°So, what are you doing with that demon?¡± she asked.

    Damien rubbed his face. ¡°Let¡¯s find a place to set up camp. We¡¯ll get comfortable and Jen can explain everything.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to be busy, remember?¡± Damien turned to the paladin. ¡°Do you have a name?¡±

    ¡°How rude of me. I¡¯m Marie-Bell.¡± She bobbed a little curtsy that looked totally bizarre coming from a woman in mail. ¡°Let me run and grab my pack. I believe I have some tea left. I can fix us a pot while we chat.¡±

    She ran off to the opposite side of the field where, presumably, she¡¯d left her gear. Jen looked at him as they swung around to pick up their own supplies. ¡°She¡¯s nuts.¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°Odd at a minimum. I¡¯ve never heard of a paladin leaving their post to become a knight errant. Everything I¡¯ve read suggested the Orders acted with great discipline.¡±

    ¡°Ha. I doubt that girl even knows the meaning of the word.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be too hard on her. Marie-Bell is just getting started in her role as a knight. No doubt she¡¯ll improve with time and practice.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re getting soft, little brother.¡±

    They found a good spot at the edge of the woods. Damien leaned against an old oak while Jen set up camp. He needed to start the process of banishing the demon or they¡¯d never get out of here. He fed power into the flask, slowly replacing the corrupt energy with pure soul force. The demonic energy resisted, but as it did some of the dark fragments shattered.

    This might take longer than he thought.

 5.20

    Jen had a good fire going by the time Marie-Bell came skipping across the field, a bulging pack over her shoulder, a battered tin kettle in one hand, and her huge hammer in the other. The damn thing was bigger than the one Edward used, but the girl wielded it with skill. She had talent, but what sort of warrior skipped? Jen hadn¡¯t skipped anywhere since she was five.

    Marie-Bell plopped down beside the fire, filled her kettle with water from a skin in her pack, and set it over the heat. She sighed. ¡°Nothing like a hot cup of tea to go with a conversation with new friends.¡±

    ¡°Friends?¡± Jen couldn¡¯t believe this girl. ¡°We just met and you attacked us.¡±

    ¡°I admit it wasn¡¯t the best first impression I¡¯ve ever made, but I did apologize and since you¡¯re not evil there¡¯s no reason we can¡¯t be friends now, right?¡± She offered a bright smile.

    Jen scowled in return. ¡°Did the other paladins train you in the warrior arts, Marie-Bell?¡±

    She coughed. ¡°No, not exactly. I wasn¡¯t a trainee before I was chosen. Any skill I have is totally due to the holy one that bonded with me.¡±

    ¡°If you weren¡¯t a trainee, how did you get selected to become a paladin?¡±

    ¡°Pure chance.¡± Marie-Bell looked away, her cheeks flushed. ¡°I was a maid to the fortress commander. One day the boy that usually cleaned the chapel fell ill and the commander ordered me to do his chores. I didn¡¯t mind since the chapel is the only beautiful room in the fortress. Have you ever seen it?¡±

    Jen shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think they let outsiders stop in for a tour. In fact I¡¯ve never even seen the fortress itself, though I was in the area once back in the spring.¡±

    ¡°If you get the chance you really should visit. The walls are filled with stained glass images of the archangels. When the sun is bright the floor and ceiling resemble a kaleidoscope. The altar is polished white marble chased with gold and all the hardware, candleholders and the like are platinum. Row after row of polished oak benches sit facing the altar.¡± Marie-Bell sighed. ¡°Anyway when I was cleaning I paused a moment and thought how wonderful it must be to go out and fight evil. To be able to help people. One of the holy ones must have been listening, because the next thing I knew a white glow filled the chapel and a voice asked me if I truly wished to battle evil. I said I did. The light entered me and filled me with a strength I never imagined.¡± Tears gleamed in the corners of her eyes.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°What did the other paladins think about a maid joining their ranks?¡± If they were anything like any other exclusive group Jen doubted they were thrilled to have someone join that they didn¡¯t pick themselves.

    ¡°There were a few that got angry, but since the holy one chose me, what could they do? To criticize me would be to criticize the angel that bonded with me. Whatever they might have thought, none of them would ever say anything against a holy one. Is your brother okay?¡±

    Jen glanced at Damien. He held the flask in his lap, a golden glow surrounding both the flask and his hands. He hadn''t so much as looked their way since the conversation began. His gaze focused solely on the flask. From the grim set of his jaw she would have thought he was fighting a battle. And maybe he was, just not one visible to her.

    ¡°He¡¯s working on destroying the demon. My brother can be single minded when he¡¯s working on something important.¡±

    Marie-Bell looked over at Damien and her eyes took on that white glow. ¡°He really is. The black aura is weaker now. Imagine a mortal sorcerer capable of purifying a demon. There are those among the Order that would claim such a thing was impossible.¡±

    Jen smiled. ¡°Damien does a lot of things people claim are impossible.¡±

    ¡°Why were the two of you hunting a demon in the first place? That is more properly a task for paladins.¡±

    Jen¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°That demon killed our father. This is family business and no outsider is necessary for us to take care of it.¡±

    Marie-Bell flinched away from her then reached for the steaming kettle. She poured the hot water into a tea pot with an infuser inside. ¡°It¡¯ll just be a few more minutes.¡±

    ¡°Do you always travel with a full tea service?¡±

    ¡°Of course. No matter how rough the territory there¡¯s no reason to abandon all civilization. A cup of tea is a reminder that we¡¯re better than mere beasts.¡±

 5.21

    Lon led his apprentice down the back hall to the archmage¡¯s office. He¡¯d visited her enough times now that his hands didn¡¯t even shake. Eli, on the other hand, wasn¡¯t doing so well. He¡¯d thrown up twice on the flight to the capital. Being summoned by the archmage twice in as many months could put a man on edge, especially a young man with as little field experience as his apprentice. Lon had hoped to break the boy in with easier missions or just simple patrols. It wasn¡¯t to be apparently.

    Beside him Eli wheezed like a broken bellows. ¡°Take a deep breath,¡± Lon said. ¡°If you pass out before we learn what she wants us to do you¡¯ll make me look bad.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Master.¡± Eli took two deep breaths. At least his teeth stopped chattering. ¡°I wonder if we¡¯ll get to work with Damien again.¡±

    ¡°I hope not.¡±

    ¡°Why? I thought you liked Damien.¡±

    ¡°I do. He¡¯s a fine young man. But if the mission is dangerous enough that the archmage feels the need to send him with us, well, I know we¡¯ll be in for a real battle. I¡¯d rather avoid that sort of thing until you have a little more experience.¡±

    Eli¡¯s throat worked as he tried to swallow. ¡°I see. I hadn¡¯t thought of it that way. I just figured we¡¯d be better off with Damien along in case we ran into trouble.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d prefer to avoid trouble in the first place.¡± Lon stopped in front of a closed door. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±

    He knocked and the door swung open. The archmage sat behind her desk and Imogen sat in the only extra chair. As usual the room was a cluttered mess, not that anyone would ever dare point this out to her.

    Imogen turned her cold blue eyes on them. ¡°Lon.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Imogen. Archmage.¡±

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.¡°Lon,¡± the archmage said. ¡°Thanks for getting here so quickly. We¡¯ve had six inquisitors go silent over the past month. I want you three to find them or find out what happened to them. No splitting up.¡± That last she directed at Imogen whose frown deepened. She didn¡¯t seem happy to be working with Lon and Eli, not that Imogen ever seemed happy about anything.

    ¡°Be sure to keep me informed,¡± the archmage said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to have to send searchers out for my search party. Off you go.¡±

    Imogen got out of her chair and brushed past them without a word. Lon shook his head and followed. He and Eli made no effort to keep up with the quick-marching Imogen.

    Eli turned to him. ¡°That¡¯s the most beautiful woman I¡¯ve ever seen yet the thought of spending a minute alone with her scares me to death.¡±

    ¡°You and me both. Imogen has that effect on people. The only person I¡¯ve ever seen her treat remotely well was her partner, Alden, but he was killed just before the hunt for Connor Blackman last month.¡±

    ¡°Wait, isn¡¯t she the one that rushed ahead with Damien? When the two of them dug their way out of that mountain they looked friendly enough. At the time I felt a little jealous.¡±

    Lon frowned. Now that his apprentice mentioned it, Imogen and Damien had seemed awfully close. Why hadn¡¯t it registered at the time? Probably because they were all worried about where Connor had gotten off to.

    ¡°Just keep your distance and you two will get along as well as possible.¡±

    They found Imogen standing in the courtyard tapping her toe and holding a rolled-up scroll like a dagger she wanted to stab them with. Technically since Imogen served in the Legion she outranked Lon so he let her take the lead. He also preferred it to arguing with her.

    ¡°Where to first?¡± Lon asked.

    Imogen unrolled the scroll. ¡°All six missing sorcerers were patrolling well away from any major settlements, mostly in the north and east. Maria Von Kade has been missing the longest. She was due to check in three weeks ago. Her last communication came from a village two hours¡¯ flight from the Barrier Mountains called Shadows in the East.¡±

    Lon frowned. ¡°Was the village by any chance undergoing construction after an attack by fire-breathing monsters?¡±

    Imogen looked up from the scroll. ¡°It doesn¡¯t say. Why?¡±

    ¡°Just curious. I visited a village in that area last spring and fought some fire breathers. Damien¡¯s sister and her squad backed me up. I never knew the name of the place and I wondered if it was the same village.¡±

    Imogen¡¯s face twisted when he mentioned Damien¡¯s name, but it soon smoothed into her usual scowl. What had Damien done to get on her bad side? Probably the fact that he existed was enough.

    ¡°I guess we¡¯ll find out when we arrive.¡± Imogen leapt into the air.

 5.22

    The village was indeed the same one Lon had visited with Jen and her squad two months ago. It appeared most of the damage from the fires had been repaired, though a handful of buildings still showed charred spots. At least the burning stink from last time was absent.

    They landed around noon, after a four-hour flight, in the town square. The town hall had new doors to replace the burned ones and Imogen strode right toward them. Lon and Eli fell in a few steps behind just to be safe. Lon wanted to offer to take the lead with the mayor since the man would probably be well disposed toward him after he¡¯d helped kill the monsters that raided his village. He couldn¡¯t quite work up the courage to say anything.

    Imogen pulled the new doors open with invisible threads of soul force and entered without breaking stride. Lon knew full well that Imogen specialized in interrogation, but he hoped she¡¯d take a more gentle tack with the mayor. They were looking for the man¡¯s help. It wasn¡¯t like they suspected him of a crime. After all, what were the odds of a small-town mayor being involved in the disappearance of a kingdom sorcerer?

    They walked down the hall toward the meeting room. All the damaged paintings had been replaced and the hole in the roof repaired. If Lon hadn¡¯t been there himself he never would have guessed anything happened. It never ceased to amaze him how fast people could recover from even the most traumatic events. He hoped the capital recovered as quickly.

    The meeting room doors were open and a small gathering filled the chamber. About a dozen people sat on the benches while another pair stood before a stout man in somber black robes seated on a raised chair at the front of the hall. A pair of men with clubs at their waists raised their hands to stop Imogen as she started across the room.

    She didn¡¯t even speak. One glare from her icy gaze and the guards shrank back. Imogen didn¡¯t need sorcery. Her presence alone would intimidate any normal person. You just didn¡¯t expect a woman that looked like her to have such a fierce air about her. The man in the robe noticed the commotion and stood up.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on back there?¡± he asked.

    Imogen conjured a golden shield in the air above her hand. ¡°We need a word with the mayor on a matter of some urgency.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The citizens all edged away from them. Lon doubted they were even aware they did it.

    The man in the robe stepped down from his raised chair. ¡°I¡¯m the mayor and of course I¡¯d be delighted to speak with you. We¡¯ll postpone grievance day until tomorrow, thank you everyone. My chambers are this way. Please follow me.¡±

    The mayor led them through a door to the left of his chair and into a comfortable if mundane office. He shrugged off his robe and hung it on a hook beside a large, almost empty table. When he¡¯d sat in the soft leather chair behind the desk he motioned for them to sit in the two smaller chairs in front.

    He offered an uneven smile. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I don¡¯t have enough seats for everyone. I seldom have more than two people here at the same time.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, sir.¡± Eli bowed and leaned against the wall beside the door.

    Lon smiled. What his apprentice lacked in power he made up for in manners.

    ¡°An inquisitor passed through here several weeks ago.¡± Imogen began without preamble. ¡°Do you remember her?¡±

    ¡°Maria, certainly, she¡¯s visited us on several occasions. We¡¯re one of a number of villages on her regular patrol route. She wanted to see how the repairs were progressing. There was also a little girl with a fever she healed. All very routine, if you¡¯re a sorcerer, I suppose. Is everything all right?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re trying to figure out,¡± Lon said.

    ¡°Did she mention anything unusual happening?¡± Imogen asked. ¡°Warn you to be careful, that sort of thing?¡±

    The mayor held his hands out to the sides in a helpless gesture. ¡°No, nothing like that. As I said, her visit couldn¡¯t have been any more ordinary. She arrived in the late afternoon, stayed one night at the inn, and left around noon the following day for the next village on her route.¡±

    ¡°Which village and which way did she fly?¡± Imogen asked.

    ¡°The village is called Loud Water, apparently they have some geysers to the north that make quite a racket when they blow.¡± The mayor¡¯s chuckle came to a strangled end at Imogen¡¯s impatient glare. He cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his tunic. ¡°Anyway that¡¯s where she went, only Maria didn¡¯t fly. She likes to travel the roads so she can check for bandits or washouts or whatever else might be wrong. She took the western trade route. Assuming a normal pace the trip takes three days in good weather.¡±

    They all stood.

    ¡°Your assistance is appreciated,¡± Imogen said.

    Lon and the mayor shook hands before the three sorcerers left the town hall. Imogen¡¯s polite if curt thank you surprised Lon. He¡¯d expected her to simply get up and leave without a word to the poor man. Maybe she had better manners than he first believed.

    ¡°Shall we leave now or wait for morning?¡± Lon asked.

    ¡°Now. We¡¯ve still got a good five hours of daylight.¡± Imogen conjured a horse and climbed up on its back. ¡°Somewhere between here and Loud Water something happened to Maria. Whatever it was I don¡¯t want to waste time figuring it out.¡±

 5.23

    Damien blinked bleary eyes. The sun hadn¡¯t set yet so the process of banishing the demon hadn¡¯t taken anywhere near as long as he feared it might. His shoulders ached and his back popped when he straightened up. He didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been pouring energy into the flask, but the last bit of corruption vanished seconds ago. In his lap the flask that had been his whole world for the past however many hours had blackened and the silver flaked off. The container had lasted just long enough and not a moment more.

    A fire burned not far away, bacon sizzling over it in a cast iron pan. His mouth watered at the savory scent.

    ¡°Welcome back to the land of the living,¡± Jen said. Damien turned his stiff neck and found his sister standing a little ways away, arms crossed, a skinned rabbit hanging from one hand.

    ¡°Thanks. Rabbit for dinner?¡±

    ¡°Breakfast.¡± Jen put the rabbit in the pan along with the bacon to fry it in the fat.

    ¡°Breakfast, how long have I been working? One rabbit¡¯s probably not enough for all three of us.¡±

    ¡°This is for you. We ate a while ago. You¡¯ve been working for about fourteen hours. I was getting a little worried.¡± She nodded toward the flask. ¡°Is it done?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Fourteen hours, no wonder he was so stiff. ¡°Where¡¯s the paladin?¡±

    ¡°Marie-Bell is watering the flowers.¡± Jen flipped the rabbit over. ¡°How are you?¡±

    ¡°Tired, but fine. Marie-Bell?¡±

    Jen rolled her eyes. ¡°Long story. She¡¯s a nice girl, but a little innocent for her chosen line of work.¡±

    ¡°Good morning,¡± Marie-Bell said in a bright, piping voice. She¡¯d traded her mail hauberk for a soft cotton dress that ended just above her knees. One look at her soft, petite figure and you knew her strength came from a supernatural source. She looked about as much like a warrior as Jen did a handmaiden. She turned her attention to the flask and her eyes turned white. ¡°You did it!¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°I was pretty sure I did, but I wanted you to check before I removed the final seals.¡± Damien reclaimed the last of his soul force and the flask disintegrated. ¡°By the way, you owe me a royal, sis.¡±

    ¡°How do you figure?¡± Jen put the rabbit on a plate and handed it to him with a mug of warm water.

    ¡°That flask cost two royals. You said you wanted to be partners in hunting the demon so you owe me half the cost.¡±

    Jen sat beside him. ¡°Gah. You¡¯re even cheaper than Dad. Besides, sorcerers get better pay than warlords. You should be good for it.¡±

    ¡°Next time we go out to dinner you¡¯re picking up the tab.¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡±

    Marie-Bell laughed. ¡°I wish I had a brother to argue with. You two are adorable.¡±

    Damien and Jen shared a look. No one had ever called them adorable. The little group fell silent while Damien finished his food. He tossed the bones away and stood up, his knees protesting as loudly as his shoulders had.

    Marie-Bell¡¯s soft hands touched his back and warmth flooded into him. The aches and pains vanished along with his fatigue. She stepped back and smiled. ¡°Better?¡±

    ¡°Much, thank you. I¡¯ve never been healed by a paladin before. It¡¯s much more effective than sorcery.¡±

    ¡°Healing is one of our primary skills, along with banishing demons.¡±

    ¡°Speaking of demons,¡± Jen said. ¡°I think it¡¯s time we go have a talk with Farmer Smyth.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know where to find him,¡± Damien said.

    I do. I overheard his conversation with Fredric. He lives twenty miles south of The Citadel.

    Lizzy¡¯s voice startled him for a moment. He still wasn¡¯t used to having her with him. ¡°That should be easy enough to find.¡±

    Jen nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Marie-Bell said. ¡°Would it be all right if I came along? This is just the sort of thing I wanted to do when I left the fortress. I don¡¯t really want to start over with a new mission.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. Sis?¡±

    ¡°Sure, her skills might come in handy.¡±

    Marie-Bell clapped and hopped around. ¡°Just let me put my gear on.¡±

    Damien said a silent prayer that he wouldn¡¯t regret inviting her along. If they ended up in a fight, her healing power would be useful. Not to mention she went toe to toe with Jen, even if it was just for half a minute. At the very least she was strong enough not to get in their way.

 5.24

    The location Lizzy provided waited only a ten-minute flight from their camp. Damien flew the platform around the area, but nothing resembling a farm was visible. Beside him Marie-Bell rode a conjured white horse through the sky. He¡¯d offered to let her ride with him and Jen, but she insisted she preferred her own mount.

    Damien hovered over what looked like a small pasture that no one had grazed in years. Small evergreens poked up here and there, blowing in the breeze. No matter which way he looked there was simply nothing here.

    ¡°Are you sure this is where he said his farm was?¡± Damien asked.

    He said it was. I didn¡¯t peer that closely into his mind as I had no reason to believe he¡¯d lie.

    Clearly the good farmer hadn¡¯t been honest with Dad. That alone made Damien suspect he¡¯d had a willing part in leading him into a trap. How were they ever going to find Smyth, assuming that was even his real name?

    ¡°Is that a basement?¡± Marie-Bell pointed to a stand of scrubby pines.

    Damien flew lower. Sure enough the remains of an old farmhouse peeked out from amongst the trees. ¡°Shall we have a look?¡±

    ¡°Might as well, long as we¡¯re here.¡± Jen leapt over the rail and landed lightly beside the rubble.

    Damien set the platform down a few feet away, but didn¡¯t bother dismissing the transport. They wouldn¡¯t be here long enough to make it worthwhile. The three of them split up and looked around for anything that might indicate anyone had been here in the recent past. He kicked over chunks of rotten timbers and poked through the collapsed house. He found nothing but debris that had sat there for a long time.

    ¡°Hey guys,¡± Marie-Bell called.

    Damien followed the sound of her voice and soon located the paladin standing in front of a pair of headstones. Jen joined them a moment later and crouched down for a closer look.

    ¡°John Smyth and Clara Smyth, died over a hundred years ago.¡± Jen stood up, a deep crease in her forehead as she scowled. ¡°When we catch up to whoever led Dad to that cave I¡¯m going to enjoy beating a confession out of him.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll find him here,¡± Damien said. ¡°We flew over a little village on the way. Maybe someone there saw him.¡±

    ¡°We might as well ask around,¡± Jen said. ¡°It¡¯s not like we have any better leads.¡±

    The little group flew back to the one-tavern village and landed in the town square. This time both Damien and Marie-Bell let their transports vanish. Villagers who had been outside doing chores or running errands paused to watch the three of them. Their arrival was probably the most interesting thing to happen in this village all year.

    ¡°Did your patrol route ever bring you here, sis?¡±

    ¡°Sure, we rode through once a week, but there were never any problems so we didn¡¯t stay long. I¡¯m not even sure who¡¯s in charge.¡±

    ¡°Who cares?¡± Damien headed toward the tavern. ¡°I doubt our man checked in with the mayor after all. If anyone¡¯s going to know something it¡¯ll be the tavern keeper or the serving girls.¡±

    ¡°How can you be so sure?¡± Marie-Bell asked.

    Damien paused and glanced around the tiny village. ¡°Where else would a stranger go in this place? When we go in, stay a step or two behind us. While everyone is looking at Jen and me use your soul sight to scan the room. Lizzy, can you provide me with an image of Smyth to show around?¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    A tingle ran up his back as Lizzy drew on her power. In the air beside him a life-size image of a man in filthy clothes appeared. He couldn¡¯t have been any less imposing.

    Jen¡¯s knuckles cracked as she clenched her fists. ¡°That¡¯s him, huh? I really hope we find him alive.¡±

    Marie-Bell cocked her head. ¡°I would have thought the opposite.¡±

    ¡°No. If he¡¯s already dead I can¡¯t kill him myself.¡±

    The blood drained from the paladin¡¯s face. ¡°I see.¡±

    They continued on, Marie-Bell hanging back a little like Damien asked. Jen reached the door first and yanked it open with a little more force than strictly necessary. At least she didn¡¯t rip it off its hinges.

    Inside they found a typical tavern layout, scattered tables, most empty, with a bar along the back wall beside steps leading to the second floor where he figured there were rooms available for the occasional visitor.

    Damien couldn¡¯t help smiling. ¡°A paladin, warlord and sorcerer walk into a tavern. Sounds like a bad joke.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve held on to your sense of humor.¡± Jen glared at him without a hint of a laugh.

    ¡°One of us has to. I think you¡¯ve got angry covered.¡± Damien tried to make light of the situation, but the truth was he didn¡¯t know how to feel. He envied Jen her anger, such a clean, simple emotion that overwhelmed everything else. He missed his father, sort of. What he really missed was the chance that they might have had a real relationship one day. At least they¡¯d made a little progress before Dad was killed. It was something to hold on to when he felt depressed.

    They walked over to the bar, every gaze in the place following them. The tavern keeper had a bald head surrounded by a ring of short hair. His gut hung about a foot over his belt, stretching the seams of a once-white shirt to the limit.

    ¡°Can I help you folks?¡± The keeper smiled a lazy smile. ¡°Rooms are half a crown an hour.¡±

    Damien caught Jen¡¯s wrist. It wouldn¡¯t be good to rough the man up before they had a chance to talk. ¡°My sister and I are here on business.¡± The image of Smyth appeared in the air beside Damien. While the keeper gaped at the illusion Damien slipped a mental block in his brain to keep him honest. ¡°Seen this guy before?¡±

    ¡°Nn¡­Agh.¡± The barman gagged on his lie.

    ¡°Better try the truth this time. Lie to me again and I¡¯ll let my sister ask the questions.¡±

    He looked at Jen¡¯s furious expression and swallowed.

    A loud crash sounded behind them. Damien spun to find Marie-Bell holding one of the patrons pinned to his table, one arm cranked behind his back. She met Damien¡¯s gaze. ¡°This guy¡¯s aura is as black as your tunic.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s everyone else?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°The fat guy¡¯s a little iffy, but everyone else is okay.¡±

    ¡°Everyone out!¡± Damien addressed the room. The seven remaining patrons were only too happy to comply.

    When the place had emptied and Marie-Bell dragged her prisoner up beside them Damien returned his attention to the keeper. ¡°So, you were saying.¡±

    ¡°Okay, he was here a week or so ago. He had on different clothes, but it was definitely your man. He stayed for three nights, met some others the second night, and left. I don¡¯t kno¡­Agh!¡±

    Jen¡¯s hand shot out, grabbed the keeper by the back of the neck, and bounced his face off the bar.

    Marie-Bell gasped.

    When the keeper straightened blood was pouring down his face and his nose bent to the left. He groaned and probed his broken nose with his finger, wincing when he touched it.

    ¡°I warned you not to try and lie to me again. Who did he meet with?¡±

    ¡°Keep your mouth shut, Callum,¡± Marie-Bell¡¯s prisoner said.

    Damien glanced his way and a golden gag appeared over the prisoner¡¯s mouth. ¡°We¡¯ll get to you shortly.¡± Damien returned his attention to Callum. ¡°Please continue.¡±

    Callum¡¯s throat worked as he tried to swallow. ¡°I can¡¯t say. If I do they¡¯ll kill me.¡±

    Damien shook his head. ¡°The man in question led our father into a trap that got him killed. If you know something, you¡¯re going to tell us, otherwise, when we¡¯re finished, you¡¯ll be begging for death.¡±

    The keeper¡¯s flab jiggled as he trembled. ¡°I didn¡¯t have a choice. All I did was provide a place for them to meet. I¡¯m not involved in the cult, they just use my basement from time to time. Please, I had no idea what they were up to, I just wanted to live.¡±

    ¡°Finally, a little truth, outstanding. Let¡¯s have a look at this meeting place.¡±

    Marie-Bell¡¯s prisoner thrashed in her grip, but to no avail. Divine soul force enhanced her strength making her every bit as powerful as Jen, which meant he had no chance of breaking her grip.

    ¡°Where¡¯s your hammer?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°I left it outside. Don¡¯t worry, I took precautions to keep it from being stolen.¡±

    Damien bound the prisoner with golden chains from neck to foot. ¡°Maybe you better go get it. I have no idea what we might be walking into.¡±

 5.25

    With Jen¡¯s sword pressed firmly to his neck, Callum led the little group to a trapdoor in the empty kitchen. Apparently the cook and servers had fled along with the patrons. That was just as well as Damien had no desire to have to look over his shoulder while they searched.

    ¡°Is there anything down there we need to worry about?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s just cold storage,¡± Callum said. ¡°I never go down when they have their meetings.¡±

    It appeared the tavern keeper had decided to be honest with them. Smart move on his part. ¡°Let¡¯s hope you¡¯re right. You¡¯ll be going down first.¡±

    Jen gave Callum a poke with her sword. He opened the trapdoor revealing a set of steps leading down into a dark cellar.

    ¡°Somebody want to grab the lantern?¡± Callum pointed at a battered hurricane lantern sitting on a shelf nearby.

    Damien conjured a handful of glowing orbs at the same time Marie-Bell caused the head of her hammer to glow. ¡°I think we¡¯ll manage without it. Move.¡±

    The steps creaked under the keeper¡¯s weight, but nothing broke. The cellar spread out around them, sides of meat hanging from hooks in the ceiling. Crates of vegetables were stacked high along one wall and kegs of ale lined the other. All in all Damien couldn¡¯t have imagined a more mundane scene.

    When they were all gathered in the basement Damien removed the prisoner¡¯s gag and inserted the mental block to prevent lies. ¡°Tell us all about it. Who you meet with and when would be a good start.¡±

    ¡°Go to hell, sorcerer.¡±

    Damien shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s not helpful.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s cut off one of his hands.¡± Jen brandished her sword. ¡°That ought to loosen his tongue.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m okay with that.¡± Damien gestured and the prisoner¡¯s arm rose from behind the chain and went rigid.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Marie-Bell waved her hands, making the shadows dance. ¡°You can¡¯t just torture him for information. It¡¯s wrong.¡±

    Damien glanced at Jen then back to the paladin. ¡°Do you have an alternate method to get the information we need?¡±

    ¡°I¡­No, but it¡¯s still wrong.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate your sense of morality,¡± Damien said. ¡°But if he doesn¡¯t talk we¡¯re at a dead end.¡±

    I could retrieve the information you need directly out of his mind.

    Judging from Jen¡¯s frown and Marie-Bell¡¯s bright smile Lizzy had spoken to everyone. ¡°Works for me. Sis?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care, as long as we find out what he knows.¡± Disappointment filled Jen¡¯s voice. She¡¯d clearly been looking forward to cutting a few chunks out of the uncooperative cultist.

    Damien understood how she felt. This son of a bitch was the first person they¡¯d encountered that they could tie to Dad¡¯s murder, naturally she wanted him to suffer. Damien wanted the same thing, but he also didn¡¯t want to alienate a potentially powerful ally.

    ¡°Okay, Lizzy, we¡¯re counting on you.¡±

    The prisoner stiffened and his face twisted into a grimace. Beads of sweat covered his forehead. He tried to thrash, but the bindings held him fast. A low moan escaped his lips and his face went slack.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Marie-Bell asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not certain, but I think he¡¯s trying to resist Lizzy¡¯s psychic probe. Since he¡¯s only an ordinary person he has no hope of blocking her. All he¡¯s doing is causing himself unnecessary discomfort. Perhaps I should have explained that to him before she started.¡± Damien shared a smile with his sister.

    Behind the third barrel from your left there¡¯s a hidden compartment.

    Jen went over, picked up the almost full barrel of ale like it weighed nothing, and set it aside. Damien sent several lights over before joining Jen. He trusted Marie-Bell to watch Callum, and the other guy, slumped in his bindings, a trickle of drool running down his chin, was clearly in no shape to wander off.

    Jen felt around and a moment later something clicked. She pushed a small door in and to the side, revealing a slender compartment containing a ledger, several pouches, and a long narrow box. Jen grabbed the box. When she lifted it another click sounded before a blade snapped down from a hidden slot above the door. The blade clanged off her iron skin without cutting.

    She ripped the blade free and tossed it aside. ¡°Pathetic.¡±

    ¡°To you maybe, but I bet if old Callum had gotten curious he¡¯d have wished he hadn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d think demon cultists would have more impressive traps or maybe a guardian of some sort, like those lava monsters.¡± Jen stood up, the contents of the secret compartment in her hands.

    ¡°I can live with weak traps and no guardians. All I worry about is whether there¡¯s anything valuable behind the meager defenses. There¡¯s nothing else, is there, Lizzy?¡±

    No. This one didn¡¯t know about the trap or I would have warned you. He also doesn¡¯t know the real names of his fellow cultists.

    ¡°Yeah, that would have been way too convenient.¡± Damien sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s go upstairs and see what we¡¯ve found. Maybe have a drink. On the house, right, Callum?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Callum offered a sour smile.

    The prisoner still hadn¡¯t come to when they walked back up the stairs to the kitchen and Damien had serious doubts about his mental state even if he did. He didn¡¯t especially care as long as the surprisingly quiet Marie-Bell didn¡¯t raise any complaints. They could hang the man regardless of whether or not his brain worked correctly.

    Damien guided Callum to an empty chair and bound him there before collecting a bottle of red wine and three glasses. He checked for poison before filling the glasses and passing them out. Jen had spread everything over an empty table. She accepted her glass and took a swig before opening the box. Inside, a blackened silver dagger with a horned skull for a pommel rested in a bed of red velvet.

    Marie-Bell slammed the lid shut. ¡°That thing reeks of evil.¡±

    Damien nodded and took one of the pouches. ¡°Sacrificial dagger. Probably quenched in demon blood judging by the color. Nasty. I¡¯ll deal with it permanently before we leave.¡±

    The paladin stared at him as though in shock.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You both accept everything so matter-of-factly. It seems like you should be more outraged.¡±

    ¡°If I got outraged by every evil thing I¡¯ve seen over the last year I wouldn¡¯t be able to think straight. Don¡¯t worry, we get plenty outraged at the really bad stuff, right, sis?¡±

    Jen thumbed through the ledger and didn¡¯t seem interested in their conversation. Damien shrugged. ¡°Anyway, take my word for it, we¡¯ll be outraged at the proper time. And when we do feel free to join in.¡±

    Marie-Bell¡¯s cheeks dimpled when she smiled. ¡°You¡¯re much nicer than I first thought.¡±

    Damien grinned back. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone.¡±

    He dumped the pouch over and a gray crystal bird clattered out onto the table¡¯s surface. Damien focused on it. Some sort of sorcery swirled in the depths of the crystal, but he couldn¡¯t say exactly what it did.

    He moved on to the second pouch. It didn¡¯t weigh nearly as much as the first. Damien tipped it out. Dozens of small strips of paper tumbled down. Marie-Bell grabbed one and smoothed it out. ¡°It¡¯s a date and time.¡±

    Damien tossed the one he¡¯d been reading on the table. ¡°This one too.¡±

    Ten minutes later they¡¯d checked them all and found they all held dates and times. Damien frowned. What was the point of saving such useless information? All the dates had come and gone.

    ¡°Hand me one of those.¡± Jen reached out and Damien gave her one of the strips.

    She paged through the ledger, paused and ran her finger down the column. ¡°They¡¯re a code. When you compare the numbers in the date and time with the columns in the ledger it gives a location. What do you want to bet these all lead to other meeting places?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised, but why would they leave something like this just lying around for someone to find?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t that big a risk,¡± Jen said. ¡°We never would have caught the cultist without Marie-Bell, and we never would have gotten the truth without you and Lizzy. What are the odds of this particular combination of people arriving here at this time?¡±

    ¡°Good point.¡± Damien yawned. ¡°What do you say we finish decoding these messages, turn these two over to whoever runs this town, and go check out those other locations?¡±

 5.26

    Lon, Eli, and Imogen raced along the western trade road at about twice the pace of a galloping horse. Trees whizzed by in a green blur. Lon kept his senses fully alert for any sign of corruption. The shadows were getting long and soon they¡¯d either have to stop or travel by conjured light. That wouldn¡¯t be a problem, but it increased the risk that they¡¯d miss something. From her position in the front of the group Imogen must have come to the same conclusion. She slowed then guided her construct into a cutout on the side of the road.

    ¡°Let¡¯s camp here for the night,¡± she said.

    No one argued so while his apprentice set about collecting firewood Lon and Imogen placed wards to secure the campsite for the night. Lon set twice as many as he ordinarily would have. Since Maria had disappeared somewhere in the area, extra precautions were in order.

    He and Imogen finished side by side facing the road. ¡°Looks pretty secure,¡± Lon said.

    Imogen nodded, but her mind seemed far away. She stared off into the twilit sky, an almost wistful expression on her usually stern face.

    ¡°Crown for your thoughts.¡±

    ¡°I was just wondering what Damien was doing right now.¡±

    Lon cocked his head. What an odd thing for her to be worried about. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s fine. The list of things that boy has to worry about is a short one.¡±

    She actually managed a smile. ¡°I didn¡¯t think he was in danger. It¡¯s just he only lost his father a couple weeks ago and now he¡¯s gone with his sister to hunt down the creature that killed him. That kind of thing has to take a mental toll regardless of how strong a sorcerer he is.¡±

    Heaven¡¯s mercy, she sounded genuinely concerned about Damien. Lon never expected to hear such a thing from her lips. ¡°You care about him.¡±

    ¡°You say it with such surprise. Damien saved my life. I don¡¯t mean just from the trap. I was in a dark place, maybe the darkest place I¡¯ve ever been and he reached in and pulled me out. It wasn¡¯t even anything big, just a kind word and a hug. But the fact that he made the effort despite how I¡¯d always treated him gave me a little hope. I¡¯ll never be able to repay him for that.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    She didn¡¯t just care about Damien, Imogen loved him. Lon couldn¡¯t wrap his mind around what he¡¯d heard. Associating such an emotion with the hard-edged woman he knew stretched his mind too far.

    ¡°Damien¡¯s engaged to the princess, isn¡¯t he?¡±

    Imogen waved a hand. ¡°That¡¯s a sham. He doesn¡¯t love that girl, he¡¯s just helping her out. I¡¯ve read the reports on his missions and considering how many people he¡¯s killed, Damien¡¯s quite a sap for a woman in trouble.¡±

    ¡°So speaks the voice of experience.¡±

    Imogen¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Yes. I¡¯ll thank you to keep this conversation to yourself.¡±

    Lon nodded. Who would he tell? Anybody that knew Imogen even a little would think he made the whole thing up.

    ¡°You know, I never had a chance to thank your late partner for saving my grandfather¡¯s life.¡±

    ¡°Your grandfather?¡±

    Lon nodded. ¡°Fo Shen, Grandmaster of the Iron Path. Alden healed him. I wish I had a chance to thank him myself.¡±

    Imogen made no reply. Behind them the snap and crackle of a fire spared Lon from further conversation. He needed food and sleep. Perhaps he could convince himself he¡¯d dreamed the conversation.

    Nothing disturbed their wards in the night and when the sun rose they polished off the leftover stew from dinner and set out. They hadn¡¯t traveled more than a mile from their campsite when Imogen drew up short. A second later Lon sensed it as well. A lingering hint of corruption.

    ¡°Master, what is that?¡± Eli asked.

    The boy¡¯s face had a green tint to it. Was this his first exposure to corrupt energy? No, Eli was there when the librarian went insane and killed several students and masters. Perhaps he simply had a greater sensitivity to dark energy than some. Lon had built up a considerable tolerance for it after his exposure in Port Valcane last winter.

    ¡°This is where it happened,¡± Imogen answered for him. ¡°Maria was attacked here, whether by a demon or warlock I can¡¯t tell. Whoever did it ambushed her so she didn¡¯t have a chance to counterattack.¡±

    ¡°How can you be sure?¡± Eli asked.

    This time Lon answered. ¡°Look around. Does it look like a battle took place here? No trees are damaged, there¡¯s no sign of blood. No, Imogen¡¯s right. Whoever attacked took Maria out with the first blast. The important question is: is she dead, captured, or in hiding?¡±

    ¡°Dead or captured,¡± Imogen said. ¡°Even in hiding she could have gotten out a message calling for help.¡±

    ¡°Agreed, but now what? There¡¯s no point heading on to the village.¡± Lon scratched his chin. ¡°Should we just move on, look for the next person on the list?¡±

    ¡°Unless you have a better suggestion.¡± Imogen took a strip of paper out, wrote a quick note, and sent it off with a conjured messenger.

 5.27

    Connor watched as the Soul Burn Crystal continued to expand. It had already covered the entire cavern and now it spread to the ceiling, coating the stalactites like ice. The process was glorious and after a month plus of study Connor still had no idea how it worked. And while his innate curiosity compelled him to watch the corrupt energy sparking like lightning through the crystal matrix, deep down Connor didn¡¯t really care about the process. It worked, nothing else mattered.

    After setting the crystal in motion Connor had more thoroughly explored the underground complex. In addition to the massive cavern carved out to house the crystal, a maze of tunnels extended deeper under the mountains. He hadn¡¯t gone down every tunnel, but those he checked out appeared largely empty. That was another surprise. It seemed nearly impossible to set foot in a cave in this part of the world without running into something that wanted to kill you. Perhaps the inhabitants sensed his power and had chosen to retreat. That worried Connor even more as it implied intelligence.

    The clank of Mikhail¡¯s boots across the crystal path heralded the black knight¡¯s arrival. He¡¯d left the armored guardian at the cave entrance to protect against any of the haunted land¡¯s nastier inhabitants entering and making a nuisance of themselves. In truth it shocked Connor that none of the demons or undead he knew lived in the wasteland had put in an appearance yet. Perhaps Mikhail had been forced to kill something and wanted to report it. With the overwhelming power coming from the crystal blocking out everything else Connor wouldn¡¯t have sensed anything short of a major demonic invasion.

    The armored figure arrived at the entrance to the portal chamber. ¡°A message, Master.¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    What could it be? He had a number of pieces in motion, but most of them knew their tasks and had the wit to adapt to anything short of a total disaster. He doubted it came from Morana. Perhaps one of his cult agents. Connor had reassigned several crystal birds that had belonged to dead agents to cult spies scattered here and there throughout the kingdom. One of them might have discovered something interesting.

    The crystal didn¡¯t need his constant observation to complete its transformation. The message might make for an interesting diversion. The crystal still had days or maybe weeks of growth to undergo before he could fully activate it.

    Connor walked along beside his servant back to the entrance. The half dozen energy sources he¡¯d collected so far didn¡¯t make so much as a peep as he passed by. He assumed from the way they¡¯d thrashed when he connected them to the energy matrix the process was quite painful. Perhaps they¡¯d simply passed out. Whatever the cause, the quiet pleased him.

    They reached the entrance and the black bird landed on Connor¡¯s outstretched hand. He¡¯d placed a barrier at the entrance to keep the little crystal creations from entering. He feared the energy in the cavern would cause them to shatter and he only had so many.

    Connor plucked the message from its beak and unrolled it. As he read his smile grew. More targets had presented themselves. He sent the messenger back without a reply. That agent couldn¡¯t do anything in the current situation beyond providing him with more information.

    A few steps from the cave entrance Connor had carved a secure niche to hold the trunks with his collection. It took only a moment to retrieve the messenger he needed. Much as Connor would have enjoyed handling this mission himself, he wasn¡¯t yet ready to leave the crystal unsupervised and leaving Mikhail to deal with it¡­He shuddered at the thought. If something went wrong Connor wasn¡¯t certain he could set it right, so leaving someone else in charge would be foolish to the point of madness. He sent a brief message to Morana. She should have no trouble taking the new prey.

 5.28

    Damien yawned as he guided the platform through the predawn sky. The three of them had been up half the night decoding all the messages they¡¯d found, and when they finished they ended up with seven unique locations.

    Considering how many scraps of paper there¡¯d been in the second pouch he considered them lucky to only have seven to scout. If every piece had led to a different location it would have taken the rest of the summer to check them all out. As it was they should be able to roll them up in half a week, assuming no major resistance.

    After four hours¡¯ sleep they¡¯d headed out to the nearest meeting place, a circle of standing stones three hundred miles north of the village. The stones appeared plunked down in a random clearing in the forest, even further into the wilderness than the druid village he and Jen had visited. If they found a single cultist there Damien would be shocked.

    ¡°Talk about the middle of nowhere.¡± Jen leaned over the rail and looked down at the passing trees. ¡°Who in their right mind would have a gathering out here?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re hunting a cult that worships demons and wants to bring about the end of the world. I¡¯m not sure ¡®in their right mind¡¯ would describe any of them.¡± Damien kept a watchful eye on the thick trees below. They were getting close to the location described in the ledger. A circle of standing stones wouldn¡¯t be easy to spot in all this wilderness.

    Marie-Bell brought her white horse up alongside him. She pointed with her hammer to a spot about a mile ahead. ¡°Do you feel it?¡±

    Damien had been focusing so hard on what he saw that he¡¯d let his sorcerous senses lapse. When he concentrated the queasy feeling of corruption washed over him. ¡°I do now, that must be our target.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go in first.¡± Marie-Bell¡¯s mount raced ahead of them.

    ¡°Wait!¡±

    Too late. She streaked like a pale comet to the source of corruption. Damien accelerated the platform to try and keep up. From this distance he couldn''t tell if there was an active source of corruption like a demon or if it was something old like a former ritual site. Whatever waited down there he didn¡¯t want the paladin to face it alone. He also didn¡¯t want her to destroy anything that might give them a clue about what they were dealing with.

    ¡°It¡¯s no wonder the other paladins let her go off on her own,¡± Jen said. ¡°She has no sense of tactics or teamwork.¡±

    Damien grinned. ¡°She should have been a sorcerer. Marie-Bell would fit right in at The Tower.¡±

    An explosion shook the air. Both the corruption and Marie-Bell¡¯s holy aura had ramped up by three or four times. Whatever she¡¯d found down there, it wasn¡¯t an old ritual site.

    A stream of hellfire shot past the platform, missing them by a foot. Damien swerved to avoid the next blast. He raced toward the ground. Two black shapes like ravens the size of horses rushed to meet them.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help Marie-Bell.¡± Jen leapt over the rail and plummeted the remaining fifty feet to the ground.

    Damien shook his head and let the platform vanish. That short a fall wouldn¡¯t bother Jen, he just wished he knew what she faced.

    He drew Lizzy from the sheath on his back. This would be the first time they¡¯d fought a proper battle together and he was anxious to see what they could do.

    The giant bird demons breathed hellfire at him. He dodged the clumsy attack and surrounded Lizzy with a chunk of his soul force. Her power merged with his as she read his mind and learned what he had planned.

    He swung her at the nearest demon. A curved blast of gold and gray soul force swept out, annihilating the demon in an instant. The attack continued on, hammering into the ground, scattering trees, and blowing a thirty-foot crater in the ground.

    Damien winced. Looked like he still needed practice modulating their combined power.Stolen novel; please report.

    Hellfire shattered against a gray barrier.

    Focus on the battle. There¡¯s still one left.

    Right. Damien orientated on the monster diving toward him, curved black talons extended. Lizzy¡¯s blade burned with gray fire. This time Damien added just enough of his own soul force to give it the shape he wanted.

    He slashed and a serpent of gray fire struck at the demon, crushing and rending it in a fang-filled maw. The demon vanished.

    With the skies clear Damien turned his attention to the ground. He still sensed corruption, weaker now, but still active.

    Damien drifted in the sky above the battle. How best to help? With Jen and Marie-Bell down there any sort of heavy attack would blow them away as well. Maybe if he used Lizzy the same way Dad did, as a sword¡­

    You¡¯re not a warlord, Damien. Fighting like your father will only get you killed.

    ¡°Not just like Dad. If I pierce the demon then release external soul force I can blow it to pieces with minimal overflow.¡±

    Damien dove toward the battle. ¡°Until we improve at combining our power and controlling the results I think it¡¯s the safest course.¡±

    The serpent you made worked pretty well.

    ¡°Yes, constructs are an excellent way to use our power. When I was first learning to use soul force Ann suggested I focus on creating constructs to use in battle.¡±

    Twenty feet from the ground Damien spotted Jen and Marie-Bell battling a dwarf with a beard made of black quills, wearing black armor similar to Mikhail¡¯s and carrying a red ax that pulsed with corrupt energy. Damien was probably the only one that saw the swirling tendrils of energy running from the dwarf to the standing stones surrounding it.

    The dwarf staggered and dents appeared in its armor as if from no where. The women moved so fast Damien could only make out hints of their positions. The dwarf swung, hitting nothing. It appeared the creature couldn¡¯t keep up with Jen and Marie-Bell¡¯s speed, but by the same token as far as Damien could see they hadn¡¯t accomplished anything beyond denting its armor.

    Damien turned his attention to the standing stones. Deeply incised runes covered them from top to bottom. He didn¡¯t know if he could read them, but he also didn¡¯t want to destroy them before he tried.

    ¡°New plan. We¡¯re going to encase the stones in a barrier. That should cut off the dwarf¡¯s energy source. We also won¡¯t risk hurting Jen with an attack.¡±

    Damien leveled Lizzy at the megaliths and an instant later a shifting, gray and gold shield appeared around them. All the tendrils of corrupt energy vanished.

    The next crash revealed Jen¡¯s sword piercing through the dwarf¡¯s chest followed an instant later by Marie-Bell crushing its head with her glowing hammer.

    Jen looked up and Damien waved. He landed between the girls a few feet from the dwarf. ¡°I¡¯d best deal with the body before I release the barrier. I¡¯d hate to have that thing come back to life.¡±

    Jen nodded, but Marie-Bell said, ¡°Can I do it? I¡¯ve been wanting to try a purification technique, but haven¡¯t had a chance.¡±

    Damien waved at the corpse. ¡°Be my guest.¡±

    She smiled and did a little dance that brought a corresponding smile to Damien¡¯s face. He loved how excited she got. When he¡¯d first discovered his powers, after the initial nerves wore off, Damien had felt the same sense of excitement. He still felt the excitement, but a constant fear of what might happen if he lost his concentration mixed with it.

    Damien and Jen moved a few steps away when Marie-Bell raised her hammer. The glow surrounding the head grew until the light devoured her figure. When the light became so bright he had to squint a resounding crash sounded.

    The light vanished along with the dwarf and all its gear. Not bad and it spared Damien from having to use any more of his power.

    ¡°Good job,¡± Damien said.

    She beamed. ¡°Thanks. It¡¯s a hard thing to use in battle as it takes a while to build up the energy.¡±

    With no vessel remaining to receive their corrupt energy Damien lowered the barrier around the standing stones. Dark power swirled around them, making Damien a little sick, but nothing worse.

    Marie-Bell made gagging noises and ran for the bushes outside the circle. When she¡¯d collected herself she said, ¡°I can¡¯t stay in there. The darkness is too thick.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. I just want to see if I can decipher any of these runes then we¡¯ll get out of here.¡±

    The paladin conjured her mount and galloped into the air away from the sickening corruption. Beside him Jen muttered, ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem that bad to me.¡±

    Damien traced a rune that resembled a twisted vine. ¡°As a paladin she¡¯s probably more sensitive to corruption than we are. It makes her a good hunter, but if she can¡¯t learn to block it out she may get into trouble one day. Lizzy, do you recognize any of these runes?¡±

    Some of them are the personal sigils of various demon lords. The majority appear to be crude pictographs used by savage tribes. The rest I¡¯ve never seen before.

    Damien grimaced. This site could be a valuable resource to The Tower¡¯s scholars. It also seethed with demonic energy. If anything with ill intentions wandered in now that they¡¯d destroyed the circle¡¯s guardian they might end up having to eliminate another monster before they could study the markings. Should he level the place or leave it for now?

    Even if another guardian should be born, it will be bound to the circle just like the first one. The risk to the area is minimal.

    ¡°Good point. We¡¯ll leave it for now.¡± Damien turned to his sister. ¡°Ready?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°We¡¯ve wasted enough time here.¡±

 5.29

    Imogen glanced at her traveling companions with a faint grimace of distaste as they flew from the site of Maria¡¯s capture. Why couldn¡¯t Damien have come with her on this mission? She would have loved to spend a week or two in the field with him. No princess to distract him, no one to interrupt. She licked her lips. It would have been the best mission ever.

    Instead she was stuck flying over the middle of nowhere with Lon, who she acknowledged as a fine sorcerer, and his apprentice who was considerably less impressive. The boy¡ªshe found it hard to believe that he was the same age as Damien¡ªdidn¡¯t have a great deal of power and when his field work was complete Imogen suspected he¡¯d end up working in The Tower or as an advisor to some minor noble. He seemed a steady young man so that might actually be a good fit for him.

    The little group was currently flying toward the last known location of Kormac Slider, a veteran inquisitor who¡¯d been patrolling the kingdom since before Imogen was born. He¡¯d missed his last check in a few days after Maria. At first no one had thought much of it. Apparently Kormac was known to be less than diligent about checking in, but when he went a week overdue someone decided there was a problem and put him on Imogen¡¯s list. If he was just futzing around in some backwater village and had forgotten about reporting in Imogen would be upset.

    Below them a desolate expanse of rugged mountains and scattered mining camps spread for miles in all directions. According to the report Kormac had actually requested this wasteland as his patrol area. It looked more like a punishment, but to each his own.

    His last message came from a flyspeck town called Last Tailings. The town apparently served as a sort of hub for all the others where assayers bought the miners¡¯ ore and taverns and whorehouses separated them from their newly acquired coins.

    ¡°I believe that¡¯s it.¡± Lon pointed to a scattering of rough-built one- and two-story buildings. He rode, as was his habit, on a golden griffin, his apprentice behind him.

    A single, central road ran through the town. Not a soul stirred in the streets and no sound reached Imogen¡¯s ears. Granted it was still early afternoon, but there should be some signs of life. There didn¡¯t appear to be any damage to the buildings so an attack seemed unlikely. Where the hell was everybody?

    ¡°I don¡¯t like the looks of this,¡± Lon said, echoing her thoughts.

    She sensed the corruption a moment before hellfire streaked up from the town. The blast missed them by a comfortable margin, almost like whoever fired it was trying to not hit anyone. Lon and Imogen dove. Imogen conjured her golden armor and an ax appeared in the air beside her. She was looking forward to carving chunks out of whoever had begun collecting sorcerers.

    ¡°Do you see anything?¡± Imogen asked.

    The streets rapidly approaching looked just as empty up close as they did from above. The corruption she sensed didn¡¯t have a definite source, instead it seemed to come from all around them. Either they faced multiple enemies capable of wielding hellfire, or their opponent had prepared the town before they arrived, seeding it with dark constructs so Imogen and her companions wouldn¡¯t be able to sense where the attacks came from.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°There, Master!¡± A soul force blast shot from Eli¡¯s outstretched hand. The golden dart struck the ground near a two-story hardware store.

    They landed opposite where Eli¡¯s blast had struck. No sign of an enemy presented itself.

    ¡°What did you see?¡±

    ¡°I thought it was a woman. She ran into the alley across the street.¡±

    Lon hopped off his construct but left the creature intact for use in the coming battle. Imogen had no doubt a battle was coming. She¡¯d been in enough of them to know when someone was toying with her. She didn¡¯t like it, and when she got ahold of whoever was out there they wouldn¡¯t like it either.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t try to hit her very hard,¡± Imogen said. ¡°A blast like that wouldn¡¯t even dent ordinary armor, much less a warlock¡¯s shield.¡±

    ¡°If it was a civilian I didn¡¯t want to risk hurting her. And if it was a warlock my strongest blast wouldn¡¯t have taken her out anyway.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Power gathered around Lon¡¯s hands for ready shaping. ¡°The important thing is you gave us a place to start searching.¡±

    They crossed the street, the griffin construct in the lead and Eli bringing up the rear. He didn¡¯t complain and Imogen found his lack of bravado a pleasant change from some of the people she¡¯d worked with. Knowing your relative strength was an important skill for a sorcerer.

    The alley between the two buildings was narrow and dark. Lon¡¯s construct gave off enough light for them to see, but it also cast flickering shadows that made it hard to tell which movements were real and which illusions.

    Imogen studied the hard-packed dirt, trying in vain to spot anything that might be an enemy¡¯s track. She had no skill at hunting and since Lon kept his eyes ahead she doubted he did either. The scuff marks in the dirt could have meant anything or nothing for all she knew.

    ¡°Where¡¯d she go?¡± Imogen asked.

    If the others had any ideas they kept them to themselves. They were probably as confused as Imogen. She reached the end of the alley and caught movement to her left. She spun in time to see a swirl of cloth disappear inside a saloon.

    Her jaw clenched. The bitch was playing with them. Whoever she was, Imogen would make her pay for the insult. She stalked down the loose boards that made up the sidewalk and pushed through the swinging doors. Inside sixteen bodies littered the floor. There was no blood, but she sensed no soul force either. The people were certainly dead, but what had killed them?

    A gasp came from behind her.

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s mercy. What happened?¡± Eli asked.

    No one had any answers for him. A floorboard above them creaked. Maybe whoever lurked up there knew what happened.

    Imogen blasted a hole in the ceiling and flew through it. Standing there barefoot and staring back at her with glowing red eyes was a petite woman with straight black hair, pale skin with black veins running close to the surface, and a deep blue dress. She held her hands behind her back and her blue-tinged lips were turned down in a slight frown.

    Lon and Eli landed beside her. ¡°You!¡± Lon¡¯s lips peeled back in a snarl.

    The girl¡¯s solemn expression brightened. ¡°We meet for a third time. How nice. The only shame is Master Connor forbade me to kill you.¡±

    ¡°You know her?¡± Imogen looked from Lon to the woman.

    ¡°Her appearance has changed and she¡¯s become a warlock, but I¡¯d never mistake the she-devil that captured me in Port Valcane then murdered one of our comrades.¡±

    The three of them drew power at the same time. They¡¯d obliterate the witch with a single combined attack.

    The woman swung her hands in front of her body. She held one of the black urns.

    Black lightning shot out. Pain filled Imogen as her soul force was torn from her body. Beside her Lon howled and Eli collapsed. Imogen and Lon slumped beside him a moment later.

    The pain stopped and Imogen blinked up at the woman standing over them.

    ¡°You¡¯re still conscious. How impressive.¡±

    A second blast of lightning sent Imogen to oblivion.

 5.30

    Damien, Jen, and Marie-Bell hovered over a small village named Shadows in the East, the third location described in the ledger. The second had turned out to be an abandoned hunting shack twenty miles from anything resembling civilization. There wasn¡¯t any sign of cultists or guardians. The only living things in the vicinity were a pair of perfectly ordinary squirrels that growled at them from the branches of an old oak. If anyone had used that place for a meeting it was many generations ago.

    ¡°I know this place,¡± Jen leaned over the rail for a better look at the village. ¡°My squad came here with Master Shen to fight soul force eaters and red scales.¡±

    Damien had just been thinking this might be another bust, but if those monsters had been here they must have had a reason. It wouldn¡¯t be unusual for a cult hideout to have monsters like that for guards.

    Damien turned to Marie-Bell. ¡°Do you sense anything?¡±

    ¡°No, but we¡¯re still quite high. Perhaps something will stick out when we land.¡±

    They descended to the town square, drawing looks from the few people out and about that morning. Damien waved at a little girl who ducked behind her mother¡¯s skirt.

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who¡¯s been here before,¡± Damien said. ¡°Want to lead the way?¡±

    Jen nodded and strode toward the town hall. Hopefully the mayor or militia captain would know if anything strange was happening. Since they didn¡¯t have a particular target in this town it probably wouldn¡¯t do much good to check the inns and taverns, but depending on what the officials had to say it might be worth showing Smyth¡¯s image around.

    ¡°Do you want me to check auras as well?¡± Marie-Bell asked.

    ¡°Please,¡± Damien said. ¡°You were a huge help with that earlier.¡±

    She lit up when he offered the compliment. Damien had a hard time believing she was older than him. When he interacted with her, Marie-Bell gave off the impression of a much younger person.

    ¡°Who should I check?¡±

    Damien grinned. ¡°Everyone.¡±

    Though it was early the town hall doors stood open for the day¡¯s business. Damien glanced around as he followed his sister down a hall lined with paintings. He kept his sorcerous senses fully awake and as sharp as he could make them. He didn¡¯t intend to miss anything this time. The hall ended in an open set of double doors guarded by a pair of men armed with smooth clubs.

    One of the guards, an emaciated fellow with lank brown hair, blocked their way. ¡°The mayor isn¡¯t seeing anyone until the meeting begins at nine. You¡¯re going to have to wait.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re here on crown business,¡± Jen said. ¡°And it won¡¯t wait.¡±

    The guard licked his front teeth as he thought. Finally he turned to his companion. ¡°Go see if the mayor will see these¡­ Say, who are you people anyway?¡±

    The flow of soul force in Jen¡¯s body surged an instant before she grabbed the guard by the tunic and lifted him off the ground with one hand. ¡°I¡¯m Jennifer St. Cloud. This is my brother Damien, apprentice to the archmage. The young woman behind him is Marie-Bell, a paladin of the fortress. Impress on your master that we are not of a mind to wait.¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Frantic now, the skinny guard waved at his companion. ¡°Why are you still here? Go get the mayor. Now!¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Jen set the first guard back on his feet as the second ran for a door set a little ways to the side of a raised chair, stumbling over one of the benches filling the chamber in his haste. Looking at that elevated seat one might almost think the mayor had pretensions to a throne, but of course he¡¯d never admit that.

    The messenger rapped on the door and when it opened he spoke with whoever waited on the other side. The young man nodded then waved them over. The three of them walked across the room and when they arrived the door opened the rest of the way revealing a heavyset man with dark eyes and a weary bearing.

    ¡°Come on in.¡± He stepped out of the doorway.

    They entered a small office dominated by a large desk and three chairs. The mayor moved behind the table and slumped in his seat. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to get another seat in here.¡±

    Damien waved the ladies to the two chairs already present then conjured a third for himself. When she brushed past him Marie-Bell whispered, ¡°Evil,¡± and nodded to the mayor.

    Damien raised an eyebrow prompting a slight nod from the paladin. So, maybe they¡¯d found their cultist. Hopefully he wasn¡¯t just an especially corrupt official. Damien wouldn¡¯t mention anything for now. It would be interesting to see what the mayor had to say for himself if he didn¡¯t know they were on to him. Damien sat in his conjured chair and slipped the lie block into the mayor¡¯s mind. He¡¯d done it so many times now it took almost no effort.

    The mayor sat up and adjusted his collar. ¡°Well, this is certainly our week for visiting sorcerers. How can I help you?¡±

    ¡°What other sorcerers have visited?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°I only knew Master Shen. With him were a young man and perhaps the most beautiful woman I¡¯ve ever seen. The woman wasn¡¯t inclined to introduce herself.¡±

    ¡°That would be Imogen, she¡¯s an acquaintance of mine. What did they want?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°They were looking for a sorcerer who passed through here a few weeks ago. I¡¯m afraid I wasn¡¯t much help.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you can be of more help to us,¡± Jen said. ¡°Has anything unusual happened lately in the vicinity? We have reliable information that the Cult of the Horned One is active in this region.¡±

    The mayor flinched. Was it just a natural reaction or did he know something?

    ¡°No one has said anything to me about any unusual activity. This is a quiet community. Little of interest happens here.¡±

    ¡°Are you a member of the cult?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Of course n¡­Agh.¡± The mayor grabbed his throat and stared at Damien.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes.¡± Damien conjured bindings around the mayor¡¯s chest so he couldn¡¯t get out of the chair.

    ¡°Help!¡± A gag appeared, but too late.

    The door burst open and the two guards stared from the mayor to Damien¡¯s group. Their moment of confusion allowed Jen to accelerate to warlord speed and knock them both unconscious. She dragged them inside and shut the door.

    ¡°Getting crowded in here,¡± Jen said as she sat back down.

    Marie-Bell hadn¡¯t even managed to get out of her chair before the confrontation ended. ¡°The guards aren¡¯t evil.¡±

    ¡°Just a pair of unlucky guys trying to do their jobs for someone they had no idea didn¡¯t deserve their protection.¡± Damien conjured a sound barrier, something he should have done the moment the door closed, and removed the mayor¡¯s gag. ¡°Now where were we?¡±

    The mayor licked his lips, his gaze going everywhere except to the three angry people staring at him. When he¡¯d gathered his nerve the mayor said, ¡°Okay, I¡¯m a member, but it¡¯s not what you think. I never killed anyone. The organization has changed. We¡¯re not butchers like the old timers. It¡¯s more of an information network. A lot of trade goods pass through here. I send information to my superiors in Port Valcane which they use to buy and sell goods to make the maximum profit. I get a cut of every deal. It¡¯s easy coin.¡±

    Damien leaned forward. ¡°That¡¯s all you do?¡±

    ¡°Ye¡­Agh.¡±

    Damien shook his head. ¡°Did you not notice you can¡¯t lie to me?¡±

    ¡°All right. I don¡¯t just send information about trade goods. I also tell them about people of interest passing through town.¡±

    Damien¡¯s fist clenched. ¡°Did you pass along any information about Imogen and her team?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Son of a bitch! If anything¡¯s happened to them I¡¯ll see you hang in the town square.¡±

    ¡°Please. It¡¯s not my fault. I only provide information.¡±

    ¡°In that case.¡± Jen put her hands on his desk and smiled an evil smile. ¡°You can provide us with a little information. For example the names and locations of your superiors and any other cult members you know about.¡±

 5.31

    Morana flew east toward the haunted lands, her three unconscious prisoners in a black soul force bubble behind her. A black bubble. She smiled every time she saw an example of her new power. Connor had finally kept his promise and transformed her into a warlock like him. The pain had been exquisite, the results beyond her wildest dreams.

    She felt no pain, hunger, or thirst. She could run naked through a blizzard without using her powers and have no discomfort. Her physical strength had increased as well. Not as much as Mikhail¡¯s, but still far more than anything she¡¯d ever experienced before. The change made her feel more like an ally instead of just a tool.

    Of course that was no doubt entirely in her own mind. Connor hadn¡¯t shown any more interest in her after the transformation than he did before. Her duties hadn¡¯t changed much either. She still worked out of Port Valcane. The main difference was she had to keep more to the shadows and back ways. Any sorcerer she encountered would know at once what she¡¯d become. It was still a small price to pay for the increased power.

    Below her the Barrier Mountains streaked by. Morana turned north toward the cavern where Connor had set up his new base. The shock of entering the haunted lands punched her in the chest. Her power started to drain at once. She needed to transport the prisoners to the cavern quickly. Connor would be angry if she arrived with corpses that couldn¡¯t generate soul force.

    Ten minutes later Mikhail¡¯s armored form became visible outside the cavern entrance. Morana descended quickly, brushing past the black knight and gliding inside, giving him no chance to speak, thus sparing herself an unpleasant conversation. Despite her transformation, Mikhail still didn¡¯t think much of her power. It would have been interesting to see which of them would win in a real fight. Morana feared it wouldn¡¯t be her.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Her master¡¯s presence descended from the chamber above. Connor landed in front of her, his expression cool as always.

    ¡°No problems, Morana?¡±

    ¡°No. They hardly even put up a fight. The urn is an amazing weapon. I see now why you wanted it so badly.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. Let¡¯s see what you brought me.¡±

    Morana gestured and the bubble vanished, spilling her three unconscious prisoners on the stone floor. Connor examined them with a faint look of distaste. ¡°Not terribly impressive. The woman is strong at least, but the boy is hardly worth the effort of hooking up. Still, every little bit helps I suppose.¡±

    Connor pointed at the prisoners and bands of dark energy surrounded their wrists and ankles, lifting them off the floor. He flew up a level and Morana followed. It never ceased to fascinate her when he connected another sorcerer to the matrix.

    They stopped ten feet from a weathered old man with a gray beard who hung limp and unresponsive. The boy drifted over against the crystal-covered wall. When his wrists touched the blue crystal it grew around them, forming a sort of shackle. The moment the bindings had formed his soul force flow shifted from his core to the bindings. The power ran up and away as fast as his body generated it.

    Connor repeated the process with the other man then the woman. Morana allowed herself a moment¡¯s relief at Connor¡¯s lack of reaction to the beautiful woman. It wasn¡¯t just her that didn¡¯t interest him.

    When he¡¯d finished his work Connor turned to her. ¡°Excellent job as always.¡±

    Morana beamed. ¡°Thank you, Master. What should I do now?¡±

    ¡°Take Mikhail and return to the city. More prey will be arriving soon, assuming my agent knows what he¡¯s talking about.¡±

    Morana¡¯s smile withered. ¡°I don¡¯t need his help. With the urn I can defeat any kingdom sorcerer.¡±

    ¡°This is no ordinary sorcerer and I¡¯m not asking your opinion. Now go.¡±

 5.32

    Damien, Jen, and Marie-Bell left the mayor and three other cultists in the town jail. They¡¯d impressed upon the commander of the town guard the importance of the prisoners and what would happen to her if they escaped. When they¡¯d finished Damien doubted the woman would let the mayor out while she still had breath in her body.

    Damien sent an update to the archmage and the three of them settled in to wait for a reply. If the mayor had sent Imogen and the others into a trap Damien needed to check in on them. Fortunately the archmage must have been in her office as a reply arrived within the hour. Assuming Imogen and her team had gone to the next location on the list his master gave them they should have headed toward the mountains and a mining town.

    They took off from the now leaderless town and turned north. They hadn¡¯t gone far when Jen said, ¡°Is this really necessary? The longer we delay getting to Port Valcane the longer the cult will have to find out about us.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± Damien said. ¡°But if Imogen, Eli, and Master Shen are hurt or in trouble we¡¯re the closest group able to help them. I know you¡¯re eager to hunt down the people responsible for killing Dad, I am too, but we can¡¯t abandon our allies if they¡¯re in trouble.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t even know they are in trouble.¡±

    ¡°Also true, but we do know they were flying into a potential trap. Look, if they¡¯re fine this is at most a three-hour side trip. We fly up there, check in, and head over to the coast. But if they are in trouble, maybe we save their lives. Isn¡¯t that worth a side trip?¡±

    ¡°Of course it is.¡± Jen slammed her fist on the transport¡¯s rail. ¡°I¡¯m just so frustrated. I thought for sure we¡¯d have found Smyth by now. How can it be so hard to find one grubby farmer?¡±

    Damien laughed. ¡°People that don¡¯t stick out are the hardest ones to find. If he was a warlock or some other sort of evil creature everyone that saw him would have remembered and we¡¯d have found him in no time. Try to be patient. We will find him eventually.¡±

    A little over an hour later the mining town of Last Tailings came into view. Even from hundreds of feet up Damien sensed the wrongness of the place. There was nothing powerful. Instead it felt like the whole town was soaked in darkness.

    He glanced over at Marie-Bell. She was biting her lip so hard he feared she¡¯d draw blood. Her already pale skin was dead white.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Damien asked.

    She shook her head. ¡°Something horrible happened down there. I don¡¯t know what. I don¡¯t think I want to know.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going down to investigate,¡± Damien said. ¡°I can¡¯t sense my friends¡¯ soul forces from up here. Your skills would be a great help in the search.¡±

    Her expression hardened. ¡°I¡¯ll help. It¡¯s my duty as a paladin to investigate places like this and to help people in need. And if there was ever a place where people may be in trouble this is it.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    They descended and landed in the center of town beside a broken fountain that looked like no water had sprayed out of it for decades. The whole place had a worn out, used up feel. The oppressive darkness they¡¯d sensed from above was twice as strong on the ground. Marie-Bell¡¯s lips pressed tight together, but at least she hadn¡¯t run for it yet.

    ¡°Where should we check first?¡± Jen asked.

    Damien shrugged. ¡°Your guess is as good as mine. Marie-Bell, do you sense anything we should check out first?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s everywhere.¡± The paladin trembled in place. ¡°So much darkness, pressing down on me. Can¡¯t breathe, can¡¯t think.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ¡°Okay, I think you¡¯ve done enough searching.¡± Damien went over and forced her to meet his gaze. ¡°Pull your senses back. Focus on me. Just me. There¡¯s nothing else but my eyes. Come on, focus.¡±

    Her breathing gradually steadied and the trembling stopped. ¡°Thank you. It was all too much.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Keep your sorcerous senses drawn in tight. The town isn¡¯t that big. We can search the old fashioned way.¡±

    ¡°Old fashioned way?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll look around.¡±

    When the dimples reappeared he knew she¡¯d be okay. The three of them crossed the plaza and approached a weathered two-story building with balconies overlooking the town square. The sign outside called it The Dancing Kitty.

    They pushed through the swinging doors. Inside bodies littered the main room. Some sprawled on the floor, others slumped in their chairs, mugs of ale spilled in their laps. On the stage to their right four women dressed in ruffly green dresses lay in a heap.

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s mercy.¡± Marie-Bell clapped a hand over her mouth.

    Damien sent out streams of soul force, but found no poison in the air or any disease festering in the bodies. Whatever killed them was gone now.

    They walked through the charnel house, stepping over bodies as they went. One blond woman lay face down near the bar. Teeth gritted, Damien poked her over with his toe. The unfortunate woman had twisted teeth and a pock-marked face. He sighed. Not Imogen, thank heaven.

    Damien crouched down and sent probes of soul force into the body. He was no healer, but maybe if he took a closer look he¡¯d find what killed these people. All the major organs remained intact. He found no wounds, beyond what you¡¯d expect on a body that collapsed to a hard wooden floor. It was like someone had cut the strings on a puppet.

    He refined his probe, making the streams as fine as his dense soul force would allow. A minute later he found it, a subtle and pervasive remnant of corrupt soul force. Now that he knew what to look for Damien found the dark energy throughout the body.

    ¡°Have you ever seen anything like this?¡±

    I¡¯ve seen something similar. It¡¯s like a crude attempt to create zombies.

    ¡°Zombies!¡±

    Jen and Marie-Bell looked his way. ¡°Did you say something, little brother?¡±

    Something struck him with unnatural force, sending Damien sprawling and a table flying. The dead woman shambled upright. All around the room the dead rose to their feet.

    Damien shook his head. The blow hadn¡¯t hurt him, just took him by surprise. Jen had her sword out and sliced the head off a broad-chested former miner. The body kept stumbling toward her, unperturbed by its loss.

    Marie-Bell struck it with her hammer. White light burst forth and the body fell back to the floor.

    Jen hacked and slashed, sending body parts flying. A legless zombie continued to drag itself toward her and a severed hand crawled after it like a spider.

    Marie-Bell¡¯s hammer proved more effective. Each blow of the holy weapon sent a zombie to the ground, unmoving. The divine energy in the hammer¡¯s head burned out the corruption in each body she struck. His sister was stuck carving them into pieces small enough that they no longer posed a threat.

    Damien blew a hole through the nearest wall. ¡°Everybody out!¡±

    Jen and Marie-Bell accelerated to warlord speed and vanished through the opening. Damien disintegrated a pair of zombies and followed.

    Outside dozens of undead poured from every building in the town. Damien conjured a platform, Jen leapt on, and the three of them flew to a safe height.

    ¡°How are we going to search now?¡± Marie-Bell asked.

    ¡°We¡¯re not.¡± Damien looked down at the horde of shambling monsters. ¡°There¡¯s no way Imogen and the others are still in the town and alive. If they were I suspect the zombies would have already been up and walking around.¡±

    ¡°So what now?¡± Jen asked. ¡°We can¡¯t leave the town like this. Some poor miner wanders in to get drunk and he¡¯ll end up getting eaten.¡±

    Damien drew Lizzy. ¡°You¡¯re right. We can¡¯t leave the town like this. The whole place is tainted with corruption. I need to purify everything.¡±

    He guided the platform higher then walked to the edge, gathering power as he went. Lizzy joined her power to his and in seconds a gold and gray sphere appeared at the tip of the sword. When he¡¯d put half his power and three quarters of Lizzy¡¯s into the blast Damien released it.

    The ball struck the fountain in the town square and detonated. The town vanished in an instant. Zombies and buildings atomized and blew away. When the dust cleared nothing remained but a crater.

    Jen and Marie-Bell stared at him, their mouths hanging open. Damien knew just how they felt. He hadn¡¯t even used his full power for that blast. Just what were the two of them capable of now?

    ¡°Do you sense any corruption remaining?¡± Damien asked. He didn¡¯t, but he wanted to have Marie-Bell check.

    She blinked a couple times and closed her mouth. Her eyes turned white and she flew down low enough for a good look. When she¡¯d traveled from one end of the town to the other she rejoined them.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing left down there, corrupt or otherwise.¡±

 5.33

    Damien sent a note to his master, informing her that they couldn¡¯t find Imogen and the others. With that done, the three of them left the crater and turned southwest. They stayed silent, each thinking their own thoughts. He needed to put the zombie attack behind them and focus on their mission. The mayor reported to a wealthy merchant in Port Valcane who went by the name Paymaster. The business in the mountains had only taken an hour and Damien wanted to capture him before word got out about the roundup of cult members.

    The warehouse in Port Valcane hadn¡¯t been mentioned in the ledger Jen decoded so the Paymaster must be part of another cell or, if they got really lucky, maybe one of the real leaders of the cult. If he was a leader and he had information about all the kingdom cells they could eliminate the cult, root and branch. It was also the only way they¡¯d probably ever find Smyth and avenge their father.

    Marie-Bell had transferred over to the platform to ride with Jen and Damien since she said she¡¯d never flown for as long as it would take to reach the city and she didn¡¯t want to run out of power halfway there. Given the strength of her divine soul force he doubted it would be an issue, but if she preferred to ride on his transport he didn¡¯t mind.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never been to Port Valcane,¡± Marie-Bell said, trying to make her voice light. ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡±

    ¡°Sprawling, smelly, crowded and noisy,¡± Jen said. ¡°The only thing that stinks worse than the docks is the politics.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Marie-Bell winced. ¡°That bad, huh?¡±

    ¡°Worse actually. My words hardly do it justice. I can¡¯t imagine a better place for the cult leaders to set up shop. There¡¯s so much slime they blend right in.¡±

    Marie-Bell looked at Damien. ¡°Is there anything nice about it?¡±

    ¡°The ocean is very pretty at dawn and dusk.¡±

    ¡°Is that all?¡±

    ¡°I was only there for a couple days, but that¡¯s all I saw. Sorry. And I doubt we¡¯ll find anything better this visit.¡±

    Marie-Bell hung her head. ¡°In the three months I¡¯ve been traveling the kingdom it seems I¡¯ve found a lot more bad things than good. I thought I could make a big difference in people¡¯s lives, but there¡¯s so much going on, so many problems. Even if I spent forever wandering around, doing what I can, it wouldn¡¯t amount to anything.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t think that way.¡± Damien glanced at her then back to where he was flying. ¡°You can¡¯t focus on everything that¡¯s wrong. You have to look at the individuals you help. Even if it¡¯s one here and one there, you¡¯ve still made their lives better. There will always be challenges, but the important thing is to keep moving forward, and don¡¯t give up.¡±

    He looked toward his sister and found Jen smiling at him. ¡°What?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°I never imagined you as a deep thinker. St. Clouds tend toward action.¡±

    Damien laughed at that. ¡°I¡¯m no deep thinker, but after some of the stuff I¡¯ve seen this past year I¡¯ve had my moments of depression. Looking after one person at a time is what I thought up to fight it. Not exactly earth-shattering stuff, but it helps me on the bad days.¡±

    Like when I have to annihilate a whole town.

    Something pressed on his shoulder and out of the corner of his eye Damien saw blond hair. ¡°Thank you,¡± Marie-Bell whispered in his ear.

 5.34

    They arrived above Port Valcane late in the evening. Damien had wrapped the transport in an invisibility screen so any non-sorcerers keeping watch wouldn¡¯t see them. According to the mayor the Paymaster¡¯s warehouse sat in an industrial area ten blocks from the docks beside a wagon maker¡¯s shop. He¡¯d only visited his superior twice and that was many years ago when he first joined the cult so he had no idea what sort of defenses the place might have now. If the warehouse was a working business Damien doubted there¡¯d be much in the way of traps. After all, you wouldn¡¯t want your employees accidentally killing themselves.

    Marie-Bell gasped and Damien stopped the platform and spun to see what the problem was. She was staring out across the ocean, watching the setting sun color it pink and purple. ¡°It is pretty.¡±

    ¡°Told you.¡±

    ¡°We should probably concentrate on the matter at hand,¡± Jen said.

    ¡°Right.¡± Damien turned away from the view and started the platform moving again. ¡°Do you think we should check in with the guard captain?¡±

    Jen grimaced. ¡°We should, but I¡¯d rather not. There¡¯s no way to know if anyone in the guard is a member of the cult or if they just talk too much. I say we catch as many as we can and present them tied up in a neat bow. If Tosh wants to complain let him do it when we¡¯re finished.¡±

    Damien shrugged. Jen knew the city better than he did. If she thought handling things on their own was the best way he¡¯d follow her lead. If things became too complicated he still had Uncle Andy¡¯s ring.

    Five minutes of hunting turned up the warehouse. Both the target and the wagon maker next door looked closed for the day. That could be good if the civilians were out of the danger zone, but if the Paymaster had gone home for the night they¡¯d end up camping out in the warehouse, not a proposition that thrilled Damien.

    ¡°How do you want to handle this?¡± Damien asked. ¡°I can send in a scout bug, see if anyone¡¯s home.¡±

    ¡°Scout bug?¡± Marie-Bell asked.

    ¡°You¡¯ll see. Jen?¡±

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.Jen nodded. ¡°Do it.¡±

    Damien conjured a wasp and connected it to a viewing rectangle. The little construct buzzed down toward the warehouse, everything it saw appearing perfectly on the rectangle.

    Marie-Bell leaned over his shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s amazing.¡±

    She really was young in a lot of ways. Damien guided the bug through an open window high up under the eaves. The interior of the building was one big, open space filled with boxes, bales of cloth, and bins of clothes. No movement showed through the bug¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°There should be an office,¡± Jen said.

    Damien guided his spy lower, weaving through the stacks. It flew over an empty wagon and on the other side found a door. The bug crawled under it and sure enough an empty office waited on the other side. There was a table covered with papers, an ink pot and quill, four chairs, and three bookshelves filled with ledgers and binders.

    He severed the connection. ¡°Nobody¡¯s home. Shall we go have a closer look?¡±

    They flew down and landed on the back side of the warehouse opposite the street. It was getting darker by the moment, but he didn¡¯t want to risk a light until he had to.

    ¡°There¡¯s a small door over here.¡± Jen¡¯s eyes gleamed with the light of soul force.

    He followed Jen to the door, conjured a screen so no one would see the tiny light he used to find the keyhole. The light flew into the lock and a moment later it clicked open. The three of them slipped inside, then closed and relocked the door.

    The interior of the warehouse looked exactly the same as it had through the bug¡¯s eyes. The main difference being the acrid smell of cleaning solutions. They made their way by the light of a tiny glowing globe to the office door which Damien opened with the same ease as the first.

    ¡°You two would make fine thieves,¡± Marie-Bell said.

    Damien grinned and waved her through the open door. She had a point. Any sorcerer that wanted to take up a life of crime would have no trouble with the ordinary precautions available to the average citizen. However, if the thieving sorcerer got found out, every other sorcerer in the kingdom would hunt him or her down and see them punished. Sorcerers in the kingdom had a responsibility to use their powers for the good of the people. Anything less would lead to mistrust and anger. People would come to hate and fear sorcerers and they¡¯d end up shunned like the sorcerers of Salem¡¯s homeland. He¡¯d do everything in his power to prevent that from happening.

    ¡°Think it¡¯d be worthwhile looking through these ledgers?¡± Jen asked.

    Damien shrugged. ¡°We have hours to kill before morning. Couldn¡¯t hurt to page through them.¡±

    The office had no outside windows so Damien blacked out the small window in the door and conjured a glow globe bright enough to read by. Next he conjured a couch for Jen who promptly collected an armful of ledgers and slumped down on it.

    He glanced at Marie-Bell, but she seemed content to sit in one of the office chairs. Damien lifted his sister¡¯s feet up, sat down, and put them back in his lap. Just like at home when they¡¯d had classwork. He grabbed a ledger from her pile and set to reading.

 5.35

    The crash of the warehouse door opening combined with the sickening arrival of corruption woke Damien from a light doze. Jen sat bolt upright beside him. Across the room Marie-Bell stared back at them, one eyebrow raised.

    Damien put a finger to his lips then crooked a finger, beckoning her over to join them. She slid silently between Jen and Damien. He conjured another rectangle and bug and sent it out into the warehouse. Six people pushed the empty wagon aside while an identical number watched. Two of the watchers carried lit lanterns that created dancing shadows throughout the warehouse.

    They all wore black masks and hooded gray cloaks. One of the watchers stood a little apart from the rest. He or she¡ªthe voluminous black robes they all wore made it impossible to tell even the gender of those present¡ªgave off the aura of corruption. Not especially powerful, like a demon or warlock, but enough to mark whoever it was as the leader. Most likely some sort of dark artifact or weapon served as the source of the corruption. Whatever it was, its power level didn''t concern Damien, especially since he had Jen and Marie-Bell to back him up.

    ¡°What are they doing?¡± Jen muttered.

    Damien ignored her question and focused on the workers who had finished pushing the wagon out and were now shutting the main doors. When they had them closed and locked the leader placed a gloved hand on the bare stone floor. Hellfire leaked out and traced a rectangle in the stone. A moment later the stone shifted and sank into the ground forming steps.

    Impressive. The cultists had hidden the entrance to their base so only someone with the use of demon magic could open it. That both prevented those they didn¡¯t want finding it from doing so and reinforced the leaders¡¯ power as they were the only ones able to open the way.

    When the stairs finished forming one of the lantern bearers went down first, followed by the leader, then everyone else. When the last head bobbed down the steps Jen said, ¡°Send the bug after them.¡±

    ¡°No can do. If they have a ward set at the entrance my construct might set it off and alert them. I need to see for myself and if there is one disable it before we head down. Give them another minute to move out of earshot then we¡¯ll follow.¡±

    Jen nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. At some point she¡¯d drawn her sword without him noticing. Maybe she thought Smyth was amongst the group. He couldn¡¯t deny the possibility. If he was down there Damien would hate to be him when Jen got her hands on him.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The minute felt more like an hour, but finally the last of the lantern¡¯s light vanished from the warehouse. Damien nodded and the three of them slipped silently out of the office and over to the entrance to the basement.

    Damien crouched down three feet from the threshold and looked for any markings or concentrations of energy. He found nothing beyond a faint, lingering hint of corruption from the opening. Just to be certain he sent a thin stream of soul force out to probe both sides of the stairs. It appeared unprotected. The cultists must have considered the fact that the entrance was hidden and sealed sufficient. Under other circumstances they¡¯d have been right.

    ¡°It¡¯s clear.¡±

    The tunnel at the bottom of the steps was pitch black. Even with her enhanced vision Jen wouldn¡¯t be able to see. Much as he hated to risk it Damien sent his conjured light down the steps first. Jen went next, followed by Damien and Marie-Bell.

    As they walked the tunnel sloped slightly downward. The walls, floor and ceiling were smooth, quarried stone, fused into a single piece with soul force. Whoever built the tunnel had gone to a lot of trouble to make it secure.

    The farther they went the more obvious it became that while Damien and Jen had training in quiet movement, Marie-Bell didn¡¯t. Her armor jingled and her boots thunked hard with each step prompting a wince from Damien. If any of the cultists were listening they¡¯d hear her from half a mile away in these echoing tunnels.

    Damien paused, looked back, and whispered, ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you can move any quieter?¡±

    ¡°Sorry. Paladins are taught to charge in forthrightly, confident in the righteousness of our cause. The bad guys sneak around.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes the good guys need to sneak in or the bad guys will sneak out before they can be captured. Try to be a little quieter, please.¡±

    ¡°Are you two coming?¡± Jen asked.

    Damien and Marie-Bell got going again, the jingling and stomping a little softer than before. The tunnel kept going with no sign of an end. By Damien¡¯s estimate they¡¯d crossed under the street and were now beneath the feed store across from the warehouse. How far did they dig this tunnel? And worse, he was pretty sure they were still angled down.

    Jen hissed and waved at them. Damien doused his light so only the faintest glow remained and slipped up beside his sister.

    ¡°What is it?¡± He barely breathed the words, confident her enhanced hearing would pick it up.

    ¡°Voices up ahead. Douse your light.¡±

    Damien¡¯s glowing globe vanished. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness a faint, red glow became visible at the end of the tunnel. He couldn¡¯t hear the voices Jen mentioned, but Damien trusted his sister.

    ¡°I¡¯ll sneak ahead and take a look,¡± Jen said. ¡°You and Jingle-Bell over there wait for me.¡±

    Damien wasn¡¯t crazy about Jen going ahead, but he knew better than to argue with her too much. She moved away silent as a breeze, leaving Damien and Marie-Bell standing in the dark.

    ¡°I¡¯m not that noisy,¡± Marie-Bell said.

    Damien smiled in the dark. Fortunately Damien hadn¡¯t seen any warlords among the group they followed. If there were any warlords among the cultists they could hear a heart beating at ten paces. Marie-Bell might as well be swinging a cowbell as she walked.

 5.36

    Jen left Damien and Marie-Bell huddled by the side of the tunnel and snuck toward the red light. It wasn¡¯t very bright, but with her soul force enhanced sight Jen could see everything clearly. The chanting became louder and the light brighter with each step. Jen didn¡¯t recognize the language, but it was clear that the same words were being repeated over and over again. The words sent a chill down her spine. It was probably just as well that she didn¡¯t know what they were saying.

    After fifty paces the tunnel ended at the rim of an amphitheater. Four broad-shouldered cultists carrying saw-toothed swords patrolled a walkway that ran around the perimeter. Every twenty or so paces a set of steps went down to the floor. Three more tunnels spaced equally around the rim led away from the gathering.

    Jen did a quick count of the robed figures and came up with over a hundred, and that was just the ones visible from her position. There had to be that many more she couldn¡¯t see. Down on the floor of the amphitheater rested an altar with a naked man bound to it face up. Four robed figures stood around the altar. Jen couldn¡¯t see corruption like her brother, but she would have bet a year¡¯s pay that those four all had a weapon or device capable of producing the black flames.

    She allowed herself a moment of doubt. She¡¯d expected to find a dozen cultists and instead found a hundred plus. That was a lot of people for the three of them to handle. On the other hand she¡¯d just watched Damien reduce an entire town to dust along with scores of zombies. How hard would it be for him to handle these cultists? If they didn¡¯t care about taking them alive she suspected it would be much easier.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The thing that bothered Jen was that she and everyone else kept relying on him. It wasn¡¯t fair to expect so much of a seventeen-year-old man. She wanted to make life easier for her brother, but in so many instances there was nothing she could do to help beyond staying out of his way. That galled her more than she liked to admit.

    She eased further back into the tunnel as one of the guards moved closer. He looked at ease, his gaze wandering the gathering with no particular target. When he reached the entrance to her tunnel he stiffened and Jen held her breath.

    The guard peered into the tunnel then vanished.

    Jen¡¯s soul force surged and she drew her sword just in time to block the enemy warlord¡¯s attack. Teeth clenched, she drew more power and forced her opponent back. She had to finish him quickly. The other guards would arrive soon.

    She spun and slashed, hoping to cut the guard down when he lost his balance.

    The cultist was too skilled for such a simple ploy. He lunged deeper into the tunnel, avoiding her slash, and regaining his balance. Rapid footsteps from behind her announced the arrival of more enemies.

    A glowing white hammer hit the first guard in the side of the head with enough force to reduce it to pulp. Light filled the tunnel as Damien and Marie-Bell arrived on the scene, weapons drawn.

 5.37

    Damien sensed Jen¡¯s soul force surge and a moment later the clash of weapons filled the tunnel. Damn it! She¡¯d been discovered.

    He conjured light spheres and Marie-Bell sent holy energy into her hammer¡¯s head. The paladin accelerated to warlord speed. Damien rushed after her, drawing Lizzy as he went.

    Let¡¯s try something different. Lizzy¡¯s power surged into his core, mingling with his soul force. Try wielding our combined power just like you would your own. Maybe it will give you better control.

    Damien skidded to a stop beside Marie-Bell who from the looks of it had just smashed one of the cultists¡¯ heads in. Jen glanced back and smiled. She always seemed happiest just before a fight.

    Ahead of them three more figures in black robes blocked their path. All three had strong internal soul force.

    ¡°Some poor son of a bitch is about to be sacrificed in there,¡± Jen said. ¡°Marie-Bell and I can handle these three. Get going.¡±

    Jen vanished and one of the guards was knocked to the left. Marie-Bell did the same, knocking the center guard into the one on the right. Trusting his sister¡¯s battle judgment, Damien flew through the gap.

    He entered a cavern with an amphitheater in the floor. Robed cultists streamed toward three other tunnels like cockroaches before a torch. Damien slammed barriers into place, stopping the exodus.

    Damien didn¡¯t know how many had escaped, but no one else would be joining them. Down on the floor masked cultists reeking of corruption surrounded an altar where a naked man struggled against hellfire bonds. The four leaders argued back and forth, seeming unaware of Damien¡¯s arrival. That confirmed to him that he wasn¡¯t dealing with warlocks or any other creature capable of sensing soul force.

    Damien shattered the prisoner¡¯s bindings, wrapped him in a soul force bubble and sent him up near the cavern roof to keep him out of harm¡¯s way. The leaders stared up at him. One raised a hand wreathed in hellfire.

    A stream of black flames shot toward Damien. He conjured an angled shield that sent the blast safely into the cavern wall. Stone shattered and fell to the walkway.

    The other leaders had drawn their weapons, two black daggers and a skull-topped iron rod. Hellfire swirled around all three items. The rod shook in the cultist¡¯s hand.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.Maybe he could end this without further loss of life. Damien amplified his voice with soul force. ¡°Lay down your weapons and surrender. Comply now and you will not be harmed.¡±

    As he hoped the iron rod clattered to the stone floor and the holder fell to his knees. Damien turned his gaze on the other three.

    ¡°Coward!¡± One of the knife bearers, a woman judging from the voice, stepped behind the leader on his knees and cut his throat.

    The hellfire surrounding her weapon blazed hotter. She swung toward Damien and a torrent of black flame rushed at him. The two survivors joined their power to the woman¡¯s, making the stream of fire a river. Damien raced toward the ceiling, swinging wide of the intended sacrifice. Chunks of stone crashed into the cultists below him.

    Damien grimaced. At this rate there wouldn¡¯t be anyone left alive to question. He couldn¡¯t say if that¡¯s what the leaders had in mind or if they just didn¡¯t care who else they killed as long as they blasted Damien.

    Either way he needed to end this quickly. Damien sent his own blast down at the leaders. The cultist without a weapon shifted the flow of hellfire, forming a shield around the three of them while the other two continued to try and burn Damien to a crisp.

    He flew too fast and their control wasn¡¯t sufficient for them to do anything beyond wave at him with their flames. It was a standoff and he couldn¡¯t break it without using a lot stronger of an attack than the first one he tried.

    There was nothing for it. He drew ten times the power he used the first time, shaped it into a spear, and hurled it at the cultist maintaining the shield.

    The gold and gray construct pierced the barrier like it was made of paper and kept going through the cultist¡¯s chest. The force of the attack drove the robed figure into the wall and pinned them there for an instant before Damien detonated the energy contained in the spear.

    The explosion shook the cavern. The cult leaders lay in small, smoking pieces, their weapons reduced to twisted metal. The ordinary cultists that had been pounding on his barriers to try and escape all fell to their knees and raised their hands. Damien let out a sigh of relief. Only a small group of cultists had gotten crushed by falling rock. There should be plenty of survivors to interrogate. It would have been nice to capture at least one of the leaders alive, but when dealing with fanatics you couldn¡¯t always get what you wanted.

    Jen and Marie-Bell stepped out onto the walkway and Damien landed beside them. Neither of them bore any wounds.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, but the leaders refused to surrender. I hope we can get something useful out of the regular members.¡±

    Marie-Bell looked left and right. ¡°There certainly are a lot of them.¡±

    ¡°Did you save the sacrifice?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°I forgot all about him.¡± Damien gestured and the bubble descended from the ceiling. When it settled on the walkway beside him Damien shifted it into a simple smock to cover the naked man. He had a gaunt, almost skeletal frame and long stringy brown hair that hadn¡¯t been washed in days if not weeks. Bruises covered the left side of his face. ¡°Are you all right, sir?¡±

    ¡°Thanks to you, young man.¡± The prisoner¡¯s voice sounded surprisingly strong considering the state of him. ¡°You have my most sincere gratitude.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, sir. We¡¯d like to discuss this matter further with you, but right now we need to get these prisoners to the city jail.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t mention your name,¡± Jen said.

    ¡°Pardon my manners. I¡¯m Giovanni Blackman.¡±

 5.38

    Mikhail rode on a proper mount as he and Morana approached Port Valcane several hours after midnight. He hadn¡¯t been thrilled when the master ordered him to return and help Morana capture a powerful sorcerer for the crystal. He wished to remain at Connor¡¯s side until the end, but if the witch wasn¡¯t capable of doing her job alone there was no help for it. Whatever the master required of Mikhail he would do. He would not fail again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why Connor made me bring you along,¡± Morana said. ¡°You¡¯re too big and noisy. How am I supposed to hide your presence until the target arrives?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill anyone that sees me.¡± Mikhail glared at the witch. ¡°That should solve the problem.¡±

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.Morana shook her head. The contempt on her face almost sent him into a rage. How dare she look down on him. If the master didn¡¯t find her useful he¡¯d tear her head off.

    ¡°You can¡¯t just kill everyone that sees you. Most of the people you encounter will be Connor¡¯s servants. Not much value in dead servants, is there?¡± She waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll think of something.¡±

    Mikhail growled deep in his chest. Arrogant bitch! As if he needed Morana to solve his problems. He was just about to tell her what he thought of her when he sensed a familiar, hated presence. Mikhail brought his mount up short.

    Morana flew a little past him, stopped, and came back. ¡°What now?¡±

    ¡°An enemy. I will deal with him and meet you at the worms¡¯ base.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this. You know how important this mission is to Connor.¡±

    The witch¡¯s argument almost swayed Mikhail, but this was a personal matter. Twice the whelp had bested him. This was too good an opportunity to pass up.

    This time Mikhail would be the victor.

 5.39

    Morana watched the fool knight galloping toward the docks on his ridiculous horse. She sensed the towering soul force he flew toward. Unless Morana was badly mistaken that had to be the target. Connor hadn¡¯t told Mikhail who they were supposed to capture for exactly this reason. He was entirely too stupid to be burdened with excess information.

    She should have gone with Mikhail. That¡¯s what Connor would have wanted. But she had everything all worked out. Morana knew just how she¡¯d capture the boy, nice and quiet with no one the wiser. Attacking with Mikhail would probably rouse the whole city. She knew of at least six sorcerers living in Port Valcane and if even one of them showed up while she was trying to capture her target it would make failure much more likely.

    No, her plan was perfect. Mikhail had already been defeated by the boy twice. She had no fear of him winning this time. He¡¯d get beaten and flee with his tail between his legs, then they¡¯d follow her plan like they should have from the start.

    She nodded once and flew toward the city center. She landed ten blocks from the government building beside a grate that led to the city drainage system. Pincers made of soul force lifted the grate aside. Morana flew down, hovering just above the filthy water flowing down the stone tube. When the grate slid back in place she glided downstream two blocks before pausing in front of a particular stretch of blank wall.

    A stream of hellfire opened a section of the wall revealing a connection to the labyrinth the cult had constructed over the years. She sealed the wall behind her and continued on through the newer, cleaner tunnels.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The cultists had been remarkably active considering their chief beliefs revolved around destruction and the end of everything. You¡¯d think doomsday cultists would be more slipshod in their building techniques. Then again, even if you wanted the world to end that didn¡¯t mean you wanted a tunnel collapsing on you.

    Eventually the man-made walls gave way to rough, natural chambers. According to some of the older members they¡¯d found these natural caverns when the first members arrived in the kingdom, back when it was still an imperial colony. Savage worshipers of the Horned One used the cave complex as a lair. Naturally the humans had killed all the goblins and taken over the complex, eventually expanding it as the city grew so they had access to all parts of the sprawling port.

    Morana flew into one of the occupied chambers. Workers and sympathetic sorcerers had leveled the floor and brought in tables, chairs, and couches for sleeping. A handful of robed cultists stood around one of the tables studying an unrolled scroll.

    One of her servants saw her fly in and bowed deeply. ¡°Mistress. Welcome back.¡±

    The rest of the cultists bowed as well before returning to whatever they were looking at so intently. From the next chamber over a bearded, grubby fellow with his hands thrust into the pockets of his ragged pants sauntered in, not showing her the least respect.

    ¡°Did he like your presents?¡± Koran asked.

    Morana grimaced at the old cultist Connor had saddled her with. She¡¯d seldom met such a coldblooded killer, but would it have hurt him to show her at least a little respect, or better yet take a bath?

    ¡°Connor was satisfied. More importantly is everything ready for the new prey?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. The Keeper of the Keys knows what he has to do. The rooms are all prepared. Now all we need is someone to show up.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll show. Unlike you, he has proper respect for his superiors.¡±

    Koran barked a laugh. ¡°In that case he deserves to get captured.¡±

 5.40

    Damien led what had to be the least entertaining parade ever. One hundred and twenty-seven cultists, their masks removed and soul force collars connecting them together, trudged through the tunnel back to the warehouse Damien and the others had staked out. Whenever they slowed down a tug on the neck encouraged them to start moving again. Luckily for him, Jen, and Marie-Bell, the sight of Damien taking out all of their leaders had knocked the fight out of them. The fact that he could pop their heads off with a thought probably helped too.

    The little troop had almost reached the warehouse entrance when Jen trotted up beside him. ¡°I¡¯m going to run ahead and fetch Tosh. You and Marie-Bell can handle this, right?¡±

    The paladin currently marched at the rear of the column, but Damien answered for her. ¡°Sure, no problem. You know it¡¯s like three in the morning. The guard captain isn¡¯t apt to be there.¡±

    ¡°No, Tosh certainly won¡¯t be there this early, but when I explain the situation the duty officer will send someone to fetch him. I promise you even Tosh will rouse himself for this many prisoners.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s liable to be pissed that we raided this place without even telling him.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but what¡¯s he going to do, tell us to let them go?¡± Jen shook her head. ¡°He¡¯ll take it quietly. If he gives me any crap I¡¯ll remind him he had a hundreds-strong demon cult active in his city and he did nothing about it. That¡¯ll shut him up.¡±

    Damien grinned. ¡°You¡¯re enjoying this aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Jen held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. ¡°Little bit. I¡¯ll be back soon.¡±

    She vanished up the tunnel at warlord speed. Damien was glad he and his sister got along. He¡¯d hate to have Jen for an enemy.

    They reached the stairs up to the warehouse and he went up first. One by one the cultists climbed the stairs. Several of them looked around, clearly surprised to see where they¡¯d emerged. Damien directed them to form neat rows until Marie-Bell emerged, her glowing hammer held high.

    ¡°What now?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Now we¡ª¡± A powerful source of corruption approaching in a hurry stopped him dead. He knew that power. The monster had survived after all.

    ¡°Damien?¡± Marie-Bell stared at the roof as though trying to see Mikhail through it.

    ¡°I know. Can you manage the prisoners? I can¡¯t spare a bit of power against this opponent.¡±

    ¡°I can help.¡±

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.¡°I know, but if we both go out there the cultists will escape. I can handle Mikhail if you watch them.¡±

    The prisoners¡¯ collars turned from gray and gold to pure white as Marie-Bell assumed maintenance of the constructs. ¡°I have them. Please be careful.¡±

    Damien gave her a thumbs up and flew out the warehouse door. He¡¯d barely cleared the entrance when a stream of hellfire streaked past, missing him by inches, and blasting a hole in the yard.

    He spun and there was Mikhail, sword leveled, sitting on a black horse, hellfire dancing around his armor and weapon.

    Damien put on a burst of speed and soon had the high air. When no attack came he raised an eyebrow. ¡°Planning to surrender, greengrocer?¡±

    ¡°Just enjoying your last moments on earth. You won¡¯t escape me this time, boy.¡±

    Damien laughed. ¡°Escape you? The first time we fought I cut off your arm and the second I dropped a mountain on your head. I¡¯m surprised you had the guts to come after me a third time.¡±

    A bass growl came from deep inside Mikhail¡¯s armor. ¡°You were lucky, worm. You won¡¯t be this time.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll see. Catch me if you can.¡± Damien flew toward the ocean at top speed. Hopefully he¡¯d made Mikhail angry enough that he¡¯d follow without thinking too much. He needed to draw the black knight far enough out over the ocean that he could use his full power without worrying about hurting anyone else.

    A rage-filled roar preceded a stream of hellfire. Damien dodged the first blast and when it snaked back toward him he slashed with Lizzy and blew it away.

    He couldn¡¯t help smiling. With her help that had been almost too easy. Mikhail wouldn¡¯t escape him this time.

    The docks whizzed by below him. Another mile and he¡¯d feel comfortable turning and fighting.

    Twin blasts of hellfire struck his shield and engulfed him. Damien didn¡¯t slow. Lizzy shifted her power to reinforce the barrier.

    It wasn¡¯t fair. The two of them made a perfect team. Lizzy read his mind and reacted in an instant. No one else could work with him so perfectly.

    A burst of soul force blasted Mikhail¡¯s hellfire away. Damien spun and twisted away from the next attack. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of the city, nothing but a twinkling of lights in the distance.

    Just to be safe he flew around so the city was at his right hand. Lizzy blazed with gray fire in his grip. Mikhail¡¯s sword dripped hellfire. If Damien had had a mount they would have been perfect mirrors.

    ¡°Finally accepted your fate, boy?¡±

    Damien grinned and drew deep from his core. His power mixed with Lizzy¡¯s and he charged.

    Their blades clashed then Damien was past. Two feet of Mikhail¡¯s blade splashed into the sea.

    ¡°Impossible.¡± Mikhail seemed to be speaking as much to himself as to Damien.

    Damien ignored his opponent and concentrated their combined soul force into the edge of Lizzy¡¯s blade.

    He slashed and a blade-shaped wave of power leapt at Mikhail. The concentrated energy cut his mount¡¯s head off and continued on, hitting the black knight in the midriff.

    The rest of his mount along with his legs tumbled out of the sky. Mikhail¡¯s head, arms, and chest remained flying, the ruined sword still clutched in his hand.

    ¡°Impossible,¡± Mikhail muttered again. His voice no longer held the depth and power it had. He sounded like a mortal man. A frightened one.

    Damien slashed Lizzy twice more. The concentrated soul force overlapped and cut Mikhail into four more chunks.

    His power faded to nothing as the pieces fell to the water. Damien let out a sigh of relief. If Mikhail lived through that he was truly invincible.

    Are you okay?

    Damien smiled at the concern in her voice. ¡°Yeah, just tired. It¡¯s been a long night, and we¡¯re not done yet.¡±

    Once you find somewhere to sleep I¡¯ll give you a special treat.

    His smile grew. Now that was something to look forward to.

 5.41

    An exhausted Damien landed in the warehouse yard. He found an empty crate and slumped down on it. He didn¡¯t even have enough energy to conjure a comfortable chair. This was the first time he¡¯d wielded Lizzy¡¯s power in a fierce battle. Using it exhausted him far more than just drawing on his own. He didn¡¯t know why that should be. It seemed like using someone else¡¯s energy instead of his own would be easier not harder.

    Marie-Bell rushed out of the warehouse and ran over to him. ¡°Are you hurt? I felt that monster die. It must have been a terrible battle.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯m fine, just tired.¡±

    She moved around behind him and pressed her hands against his back. Warmth and energy flowed into him. A few seconds later she moved around to the front. ¡°Better?¡±

    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s wonderful. A man could get totally addicted to your touch.¡±

    She blushed and looked away.

    He winced. ¡°That didn¡¯t come out the way I intended. Thanks for the boost.¡±

    She turned back, but kept her eyes lowered. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    Eager to change the subject Damien said, ¡°Did the prisoners give you any trouble?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She finally met his gaze. ¡°I studied them with soul sight. In general they¡¯re less evil than I expected. They¡¯re not saints by any means, but I don¡¯t think they¡¯ve done anything really horrible yet either.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t watching an innocent man be murdered horrible enough?¡± Giovani Blackman walked over to join them. He¡¯d liberated a mismatched set of pants and tunic from the warehouse inventory. Damien hadn¡¯t even noticed the man standing in the shadow of the warehouse. That showed him more than anything just how tired he was.

    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Marie-Bell said. ¡°But just watching something vile doesn¡¯t stain your soul the way participating does. I don¡¯t say this to excuse their actions, just to explain. I don¡¯t especially understand why it works that way, it just does.¡±

    He nodded, not seeming especially mollified. ¡°So what happens now?¡±

    ¡°Now we wait for my sister to return with the city watch. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll want to talk to you as well. If you don¡¯t mind telling your story twice, I¡¯m curious how you came to be in the possession of the cult.¡±

    His angry sneer turned into a rueful smile. ¡°My own stupidity mostly. I wanted to find my cousin, to ask him why he left us behind like so much trash. We all loved that boy. Anyway I figured the easiest way to find Connor was to join the Horned One¡¯s cult.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Giovanni was right, that was stupid. So stupid Damien wondered if he was lying. The flow of soul force in his brain didn¡¯t indicate it, but Damien slipped the psychic block in anyway. ¡°Let me guess, they were less than forthcoming about Connor¡¯s location.¡±

    ¡°Yes. The truth is I doubt the evil buggers had the least idea where my cousin had gone. The more time I spent with the cult the clearer it became to me that they wouldn¡¯t be of any help in my search. Finally I decided to quit and find another way to locate him. The leaders didn¡¯t take that well at all. They locked me up and tortured me for weeks. I received just enough food and water to keep me alive. I can¡¯t for the life of me figure out why they spared me for these many weeks instead of killing me right off.¡±

    ¡°How long has it been?¡± Marie-Bell asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely certain. They locked me up in the middle of winter. What month is it anyway?¡±

    ¡°July,¡± Damien said.

    ¡°Wow. I guess it¡¯s been about five months. Seemed like longer to me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± Damien stood up and stretched. Jen was close so he wanted to wrap up their conversation. ¡°To answer your question, I suspect the reason they didn¡¯t kill you was fear of what your cousin might do. If Connor still felt kindly disposed toward you he might have taken vengeance on the cult for killing you.¡±

    ¡°Then why sacrifice me now?¡±

    Damien patted him on the back. ¡°The cultists probably finally figured out Connor was just using them. No doubt their anger overrode their caution.¡±

    Lights were coming down the street. Damien went to join his sister. He hadn¡¯t gone a step when Giovanni grabbed his hand. ¡°Have you seen Connor? Is he okay?¡±

    Damien pulled his hand free. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen him face to face. As to being okay, Connor traded his soul to a demon lord. I think it¡¯s safe to say he isn¡¯t okay.¡±

    Jen entered the yard with a small army of watchmen in tow. Each man carried an armload of irons and they set to work binding the cultists. The sun was coming up when the twenty watchmen finished replacing the soul force bindings Damien had used with regular wrist and ankle irons. Three enclosed wagons with iron bars pulled by four-horse teams clattered into the warehouse yard to transport the prisoners back to Watch Headquarters. Across the street some of the locals had gathered to gawk. They stood in little knots, muttering amongst themselves.

    Damien was too exhausted to care what they were saying. He sat with Jen and Marie-Bell on a conjured couch and watched the men do their work. None of them offered any help beyond Marie-Bell removing the soul force collars one at a time.

    ¡°What have you done now?¡±

    Damien turned his head toward the angry voice. A short, barrel-chested man in a disheveled uniform strode toward them, his hands waving and his face red.

    Damien turned back to his sister. ¡°Tosh?¡±

    She nodded, not bothering to stand up.

    Tosh stopped in front of the couch, hand on hips. ¡°Well? Answer me.¡±

    ¡°Your job,¡± Jen said. ¡°If you spent half as much time working as you did chasing skirts maybe you would have noticed a demon cult operating in your city.¡±

    ¡°How dare you!¡± Tosh sputtered in his anger.

    ¡°How dare I what?¡± Jen asked. ¡°Tell you the truth? I know you don¡¯t hear it much from your toadies, but I promise it won¡¯t do you any permanent harm. Now why don¡¯t you go pester someone that cares what you think?¡±

    Tosh snorted and stalked off to bark orders at a group of watchmen who were busy loading one of the wagons.

    ¡°He¡¯s a real charmer,¡± Damien said. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know a good inn? I could sleep for a week.¡±

 5.42

    When Damien woke he had no idea what time it was and for a moment couldn¡¯t even remember where he was. He looked around the sparse room and sighed. Right, he, Jen, and Marie-Bell had checked into an inn twenty minutes after the last prison wagon had clattered off. Damien smiled when he remembered Lizzy¡¯s surprise last night. She really was a wonder.

    Sunlight streamed through the room¡¯s one lonely window and dust motes danced in the light. Apparently he hadn¡¯t slept the whole day away. He rolled out of bed, washed his face, and threw on some clothes. He needed to let his master know what they¡¯d discovered. He doubted the high sorcerer of the west would be overly thrilled that they¡¯d acted without letting her know, but maybe their results would placate her.

    He¡¯d barely set pencil to parchment when someone knocked on his door. He opened it with soul force and Jen poked her head inside. ¡°Hey, I heard you moving around. Tosh sent a messenger to fetch us. He wants us to stop by headquarters before we leave.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°The kid he sent didn¡¯t offer much detail. You want to join us for supper before we head over?¡±

    ¡°Sure. Just let me finish this note and I¡¯ll be right down.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll order your favorites.¡± Jen closed the door behind her.

    An hour later, stomachs full and mostly awake, Damien and his companions made the short walk to Watch Headquarters. Jen had said she chose the inn for its proximity since she figured they¡¯d have to deal with Tosh before they left. It seemed despite her dismissiveness toward the watch commander she accepted this as a necessary evil.

    The watchmen standing on either side of the entrance must have been expecting them as they waved them through without a fuss. Inside, every one of the six interrogation rooms visible from the entrance was occupied by a cultist and a watch investigator. If they could only handle them six at a time it was going to take the investigators a while to interview the whole group. What interested Damien was just how many more there were out in the kingdom that they knew nothing about.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Tosh waited for them in his office on the third floor. The little man had found time to oil his beard and change into a crisp uniform. He looked up from a report once his secretary closed the door behind them.

    ¡°What took you so long? I sent that messenger over an hour ago.¡±

    Jen ignored the jibe. ¡°We¡¯re here, what did you want?¡±

    Tosh reached into his desk and pulled out a scroll. He unrolled it and read, ¡°In gratitude for your excellent work in uncovering this threat festering beneath our fine city please do me the honor of joining me for a drink this evening. Yours truly, Mayor Solomon. I hope you saved room. It seems you¡¯re expected at Public House this evening.¡±

    ¡°Public House?¡± Damien looked from Tosh to his sister.

    ¡°That¡¯s the name of the mayor¡¯s official residence.¡± Jen shook her head. ¡°Ugh. I really don¡¯t feel like shaking hands and getting my back slapped. Maybe we could just skip it.¡±

    Tosh¡¯s smile held no hint of humor. ¡°You might ignore me, but do you dare ignore the ruler of the largest city in the kingdom? If you insult him it might make trouble for the king.¡±

    ¡°Damn it!¡±

    Damien patted her shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s just put in an appearance, have a drink, and get out of there as fast as possible.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Marie-Bell said. ¡°I¡¯ve never met a mayor before. It might be fun.¡±

    Damien seriously doubted it would be fun, but he feared it was necessary. At the very least he didn¡¯t want to cause any trouble for Uncle Andy.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Jen said. ¡°What time are we supposed to be there?¡±

    ¡°Sunset.¡± Tosh chuckled at her displeasure. It seemed the two of them genuinely despised each other.

    Hoping to cut off another argument Damien asked, ¡°What have you learned from the cultists?¡±

    Tosh blew out a sigh. ¡°Not much. They always wore masks to the meetings so no one really knew anyone else. I will acknowledge, reluctantly, that we¡¯ve found three watchmen among the group you caught. Maybe I have been lax. How could I not know three of my people were mixed up in something like this?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be too hard on yourself,¡± Marie-Bell said. ¡°There¡¯s no way for you to have known what they did after work. You¡¯re not their keeper after all.¡±

    Tosh looked at Jen. ¡°This is what a woman should be like, gentle and forgiving. Maybe she can give you lessons.¡±

    Jen snorted. ¡°If you learn anything useful be sure to pass it along. Let¡¯s go. If we take our time we should reach Public House right around sunset.

 5.43

    Public House was certainly an impressive structure. The three-story mansion sprawled over an acre of manicured grounds. Weathered gargoyles leered down at them from every corner of the roof. A fifteen-foot-tall wrought iron fence surrounded the grounds. It was more for decoration than anything since anyone with a modicum of physical ability could climb it with no trouble. Even the spikes at the top didn¡¯t look very sharp.

    ¡°Wow!¡± Marie-Bell stared up at the mansion.

    It seemed the large stained glass window that dominated the front of the building especially drew her attention. Not that Damien was surprised, the window depicted a blond woman in mail that might have been her cousin.

    ¡°She was the first mayor of the city,¡± Jen said when she noticed where they were looking. ¡°A warlord of some skill and if the rumors were true the imperial governor¡¯s lover. Her name escapes me.¡±

    Damien glanced at his sister, surprised that she¡¯d bothered to learn even that much about a place she didn¡¯t like. ¡°Where¡¯d you hear that?¡±

    ¡°When I was stationed in the city I did a week of guard duty here. The other guy was a local and he liked to talk.¡± Jen grimaced. ¡°He really liked to talk. Besides Tosh, he was the only person I wanted to strangle during my time here.¡±

    Damien chuckled. That was more like it. The three of them approached the fence gate. A warlord stood on either side of the entrance, ceremonial halberds in their hands and more practical swords strapped to their backs. The two men weren¡¯t especially strong, but even weak warlords would be a match for any number of normal citizens.

    The guards crossed their halberds to block the gate. ¡°Name and business,¡± the taller, blond one said.

    ¡°Jennifer St. Cloud. My companions and I were invited to have a drink with the mayor.¡±

    They moved aside.

    ¡°Go on in,¡± the blond guard said. ¡°The head butler is waiting just inside the door to guide you to the great hall.¡±

    Jen nodded and the three of them passed through the gate and crunched their way up the twisting gravel path to the mansion. A hedge grew on both sides of their route. If someone wanted to ambush them this would be a good spot. Damien found he had unconsciously strengthened his shield and smiled at his foolishness.

    ¡°What¡¯s Mayor Solomon like?¡± Marie-Bell asked. She was the only one that seemed eager for this meeting.

    Jen shrugged. ¡°He¡¯s a big, broad-shouldered guy. Bald as an egg, but not bad looking. I¡¯ve never spoken to the man, so I have no idea what sort of personality he has. Being a politician I assume he acts however he needs to at any given moment.¡±

    Marie-Bell cocked her head. ¡°You served as a gate guard for a week and he never spoke to you? I would have thought he walked by dozens of times.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Jen smiled and shook her head. ¡°The mayor generally travels by carriage. The gate guards are little more than living decorations, and ignored as such. As far as I know there¡¯s never been an attempt on the mayor¡¯s life or even someone trying to sneak onto the grounds.¡±

    They reached the ten-foot-tall main doors and paused. ¡°Do we knock or just go in?¡± Damien asked.

    Jen reached out and tugged the bronze handle. The doors swung open revealing a large foyer framed by marble columns, with a red carpet running down the center toward a hall.

    A tall, gaunt man dressed all in black stood to one side of the door and bowed to them. ¡°Welcome ladies, sir, His Lordship the mayor is waiting along with a small gathering of notables. I believe everyone is eager to meet the new heroes of the city.¡±

    Damien sighed. This sounded familiar. At least he wouldn¡¯t have to dodge Karrie for the whole evening.

    The butler turned and shuffled along deeper into the mansion. Damien and the others followed. The interior was dimly lit with intermittent glow lamps. Given the opulence of the fine wood paneling and gold trim you would have thought they could afford more lights.

    Wanting to have a better look at the place Damien conjured two floating lights and let them bob around on either side of the group.

    The butler gave a pained expression. ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind, sir, the master prefers the mansion kept dark after sunset. He feels too much light is showing off in front of those unfortunates that can¡¯t afford glow lights.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s very considerate of him, however I like to see where I¡¯m going. I¡¯ll put them out before we reach the gathering.¡±

    The butler sighed and took the next left. ¡°As you wish, sir.¡±

    They continued down the empty halls, paintings of previous lord mayors decorating the walls. It felt like they were staring down at Damien. The empty eyes gave him the creeps.

    Their guide took a right and led them down yet another empty door-lined hall. It was a convoluted path to take to reach a party.

    Halfway down the hall a door creaked open. ¡°You!¡± Jen shouted. Her soul force surged and she vanished into the room, slamming the door behind her.

    ¡°Jen!¡± Damien spun back to face the closed door.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Marie-Bell stood beside him.

    The door on the opposite wall opened and head-high clawed hands shot out, wrapped around Marie-Bell, and dragged her into the room. The door slammed shut.

    Damien whipped around to face the butler. ¡°What¡ª¡±

    A trap door opened under his feet.

    Damien fell fifteen feet before catching himself in midair. He looked up, but there was no sign of the trapdoor. He could blast his way out, but if he used too much power he might bring the whole place down around his ears killing who knew how many innocent people.

    He swung his fist, but found nothing to hit. Maybe he could carefully cut his way through the floor.

    Below him corruption flared, a potent darkness just a little weaker than Mikhail. What the hell had he fallen into? Damien conjured more lights and sent them out into the darkness. All around was nothing but empty space. One of his lights reached a wall.

    Damien flew closer. It was rough stone, like a natural cavern. Did the people who built the mansion even know about this chamber under their feet? They must have, no competent engineer would fail to check for such a thing and account for it in their design.

    The corruption was getting closer. The source was below him and to the right. Damien sent his lights down until they reached the floor. Someone had smoothed the floor many years ago and made a path through the stalagmites and loose rubble. The path almost felt like an invitation.

    He looked up again. Jen and Marie-Bell could handle themselves. He needed to deal with whoever or whatever was putting out that demonic energy.

    Besides, it¡¯s not like you¡¯re alone.

    Damien smiled. No, as long as he had Lizzy he¡¯d never be alone.

 5.44

    Jen brought up the rear of the little procession, thoroughly bored with the whole proceeding. The sooner they got this meet and greet over with the happier she¡¯d be. At least the paladin seemed to be enjoying herself. Marie-Bell looked here and there, her gazing darting from one ostentatious decoration to the next. It was hard not to be amused by the girl¡¯s sheer exuberance.

    The soft tread of a boot caught her attention a moment before the door to her right opened with a faint creak. She turned her head, keen for any change in the monotony. Staring back at her was the familiar, bearded face she¡¯d only seen in an illusion.

    ¡°You!¡±

    Rage boiled up in Jen and she charged the rapidly backpedaling Smyth. She slammed the door shut behind her so he couldn¡¯t easily escape. Smyth leaned against the far wall, a twisted smile on his ugly face.

    Damien destroyed the demon, Smyth was hers. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you, Mr. Smyth.¡± She didn¡¯t bother drawing her sword. Jen planned to kill him with her bare hands.

    The man¡¯s eyebrows went up then he laughed. The son of a bitch actually laughed at her.

    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s no surprise you only know me by that name.¡± He had a normal voice, average build; if not for the shaggy beard there¡¯d be nothing noticeable about him.

    Jen¡¯s fists clenched and unclenched. ¡°You seem calm for a man that¡¯s about to die.¡±

    He laughed again. ¡°You think it¡¯ll be that easy, girl? I¡¯ve been killing people since before you were born¡ªgot a knack for it, you see. I¡¯ve even killed warlords. Mind you I don¡¯t count your father since I just led him along by the nose to his executioner.¡±

    Jen took a step toward him, preparing to lunge across the room and strangle Smyth or whoever he was.

    Smyth touched something and the section of wall behind him spun. She just caught a glimpse of him running down a hidden passage before the secret door spun shut.

    ¡°No!¡±

    She slammed into the secret door with enough force to blast it off its hinges and send broken shards of wood bouncing down the narrow passage behind it. She just caught sight of Smyth as he ducked down another passage to the left.

    Jen raced after him, not quite daring to move at full speed for fear of missing something. She rounded the corner, again just in time to see him duck down anther passage. He was running her around, using the twisting passages to slow her. Whoever he was, he wasn¡¯t stupid. In an open space Jen would have killed him in an instant.

    She considered drawing her sword, but the tight quarters would make the long blade more of a hindrance than a help. Instead she drew a wide-bladed dagger from her belt sheath. Not as good as strangling him, but it would do.

    Jen rounded another corner and ran smack into a hard-swung mace. She staggered back, unharmed but stunned.

    Another blow hit her shoulder and another her back. More annoyed than hurt Jen shook her head to clear it.

    The mace descended again. This time she grabbed it and yanked it out of the hand of the black-masked man pounding her. The cultist staggered closer. Jen rammed her dagger into his chest three times in the blink of an eye. Hot blood ran down her fist.

    Jen took off after Smyth before the cultist¡¯s body hit the passage floor. The murderer¡¯s plan became clear to her now.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    He¡¯d run her around these passages and into ambushes in hopes of wearing her down. He was bound to be disappointed. She could go for days at this pace. Unless they had something stronger than ordinary men with steel there was no way Smyth could stop her.

    She rounded another corner, following the faint disturbances in the dust. Her skills as a tracker didn¡¯t compare to Talon¡¯s, but between her enhanced vision and the little she did know, following Smyth¡¯s trail didn¡¯t pose much of a challenge.

    Halfway down the passage a trapdoor opened under her. Jen slammed her hands and feet into the sides of the chute.

    Fingers as hard as iron dug into the wooden sides of the chute stopping Jen¡¯s fall after only a few feet. Her dagger kept falling. It clattered off something metallic in the bottom of the pit. She had just enough light to make out the gleam of needle-sharp spikes.

    Jen turned her head back just in time for a spear to jab into her face. Razor-sharp steel scraped against her cheek without penetrating her iron skin. That didn¡¯t discourage the man in black standing in the passage from repeatedly jabbing her with it.

    Annoyed, Jen let go with one hand, grabbed the spear, and yanked. Instead of letting go the idiot fell screaming down the shaft. Jen dropped the spear and dug her free hand into the wall before the cultist slammed into her.

    His additional weight forced her a foot further down into the pit. The man scrambled for purchase, finally wrapping his legs around her waist. They hung there facing each other. Jen raised an eyebrow and the cultist punched her in the face. His fingers shattered against her nose.

    While the cultist shook his broken hand Jen sent soul force into her hair. The golden strands glowed and rose up around her head before lancing out like hundreds of tiny snakes. The strands, made tough as steel by the infusion of soul force, burrowed into the man¡¯s face.

    He screamed. A second later the strands reached his brain and sliced it to bits. The cultist went limp and fell onto the spikes below.

    Jen shuddered. When this was over she was going to have to give her hair a thorough washing. She climbed up out of the chute. No more enemies presented themselves.

    The tracks in the dust had gotten all scuffed up from the second cultist¡¯s passage, but she thought she knew where Smyth had gone. She set out again, more cautious this time. Jen regretted the loss of her dagger, but it changed nothing.

    The passage ended in an intersection that apparently saw a great deal of traffic. The dust was so disturbed she had no idea which way to go. Down the right-hand branch was nothing but closed doors. She at first thought the left side exactly the same, but when she narrowed her eyes a crack of light leaked out from under one of the doors.

    It was almost certainly a trap, but Jen didn¡¯t care. If some more cultists wanted to die, she¡¯d be happy to accommodate them. Despite her acceptance of the danger Jen still approached the lighted door cautiously, soul force surging through her body. She kicked it off its hinges and across a richly decorated bedroom.

    The coppery tang of spilled blood assaulted her. A dead bald man lay slumped in front of a massive, four-poster bed, his throat cut ear to ear.

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s mercy.¡± Even though he didn¡¯t have on his usual silk and brocade Jen recognized the lord mayor. The front of his white undershirt was soaked in blood down to his waist.

    ¡°You appear shocked.¡± Smyth stepped out of the shadows on the opposite side of the bed. ¡°The high and mighty Keeper of the Keys gave me one order too many.¡±

    Jen looked away from the body. Smyth stared at her with glittering eyes. He was completely insane. ¡°Keeper of the Keys?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes. His Lordship was the second highest ranking member of the cult in this city. If you¡¯d seen some of the things he¡¯d done you¡¯d thank me for killing him.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps someone will thank me for killing you.¡±

    Smyth grinned. ¡°No doubt. But not today.¡±

    His toe tapped the floor and he started to fall.

    With her soul force fully active Smyth seemed to move in slow motion.

    She lunged across the bed and grabbed his beard and face just before it disappeared down yet another secret passage.

    With one arm she yanked him out of his hole and hurled him across the room.

    Smyth smashed into a floor-length mirror, shattering it, and sending pieces of glass everywhere. Jen wiped the stiff hair off her hands and walked over to the fallen man. It was time to end this.

    Smyth sat up and laughed. Blood covered his lips and his face bore a dozen cuts. ¡°Perhaps this is my day after all. You asked if anyone would thank you for killing me. I thank you, for sparing me another day in this shit-house of a world. My parting gift is Koran Dane, my real name.¡±

    A boom reverberated through the floor. Koran smiled. ¡°It seems I¡¯ve done my job after all.¡±

    ¡°What job?¡± Jen grabbed him and yanked him off the floor.

    Koran just laughed. He didn¡¯t stop until Jen snapped his neck.

 5.45

    Marie-Bell turned when Jen shouted. She barely registered the warlord¡¯s movement then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her. Marie-Bell stood beside a confused Damien, both of them facing the door.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Marie-Bell asked.

    Overwhelming corruption washed over her. The world went dark and she found herself flying backwards. Something slammed and she stumbled free.

    ¡°Damien! Anybody?¡±

    Darkness and silence were the only reply. Her heart raced and she took great gulps of air. Another crash reverberated through the darkness. The noise shocked her out of the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s mercy. What¡¯s going on here?¡±

    She concentrated on her hammer and the head burst into pure white light. The holy glow pushed back the darkness, but nowhere near as much as it should have. Something was suppressing her power. Marie-Bell pushed more soul force into the hammer and the light grew in response.

    Holding her weapon above her head, she explored the room she¡¯d been dragged into. Furniture was stacked in piles and covered with white cloths. There was a heap of chairs, another of end tables, and a pair of long dining room tables.

    She worked her way around the perimeter until she reached the door. Instead of wood she found a rune-covered sheet of steel. That must have been the second crash. She tried to read the runes, but they writhed and went in and out of focus. The wavering images made her nauseous and a headache began to form behind her eyes. Marie-Bell looked away before the effects got too bad. She hadn¡¯t recognized any of the markings anyway. If Damien were here he could help her decipher them, but she was on her own.

    Marie-Bell shrugged. If she couldn¡¯t think her way out, brute force might do the trick.

    She charged the head of her hammer with even more holy power then swung it with all her might. The hammer¡¯s head struck the metal without a sound. Darkness formed where steel struck steel and the light vanished from her weapon.

    Marie-Bell yanked the hammer away from the metal plate. Trembling, she sent more power into the hammer¡¯s head and it burst once more into light. She let out a breath. The barrier had only drained the energy charging the weapon, not her whole core. If she couldn¡¯t bash the door down, how would she escape the sealed room?

    Haunting, half-mad laughter echoed through the darkness. It came from everywhere and nowhere. She spun a frantic circle, trying to locate the source.

    A wave of corruption washed over her, dropping Marie-Bell to her knees. She¡¯d never experienced darkness this heavy. It felt like someone was holding a wet rag over her mouth. She couldn¡¯t breathe. The room spun.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.She leaned forward until her hands hit the floor and focused on breathing. The darkness was only in her mind. It wasn¡¯t a physical thing. Whatever she thought, it couldn¡¯t smother her.

    Slowly, one breath at a time, she mastered her breathing and with it her fear faded. She climbed to her feet and sent more soul force into her weapon, forcing the darkness back.

    The laughing stopped and a cold voice said, ¡°Well done, little paladin. My master said you were weak, but I didn¡¯t believe a mere cloak of darkness would stop a member of one of the holy orders.¡±

    ¡°Show yourself and you¡¯ll see how weak I am.¡± Her grip tightened on the haft of her hammer.

    Again the humorless laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Direct confrontation isn¡¯t my style. If you want a fight, you¡¯ll have to find me. I¡¯m not in the room with you. Are you clever or strong enough to escape my trap? It will be amusing to see.¡±

    Her tormentor fell silent, leaving Marie-Bell with nothing but her own thoughts in the oppressive darkness. That creature¡ªshe refused to believe it was a human being speaking with such a voice¡ªindicated there was a way out. Perhaps more than one if she could escape by either strength or cunning. Of course that assumed it had told her the truth.

    She shook her head. Thinking like that would drive her crazy. There had to be a way out. Anything else meant she was stuck here until help arrived and Marie-Bell refused to just sit around and wait to be rescued like some princess in a fairytale.

    She paced the length of the room, tossed aside the furniture in hopes of finding a trap door, and tapped the walls to check for hollow spots. All her efforts came to nothing.

    Marie-Bell pursed her lips and tried to think. There were no secret doors and she couldn¡¯t bash down the steel plate barring the exit. Maybe if she moved down a little ways beyond the steel she could go through the wall.

    With no better ideas she walked to the steel plate then took three big strides to the left. Here goes nothing.

    The wood made a satisfying crunch when her hammer crashed into it. Marie-Bell grinned and struck again enlarging the hole. She poked her head into the hole in hopes of seeing out into the hall. Three inches from the paneling waited another rune-covered steel plate.

    Marie-Bell shouted her frustration, drawing another amused laugh from the creature. If the paneling covered steel plates she had to assume the floor and ceiling did too. If that were true, how could strength help her escape?

    Her eyes went wide. Maybe it didn¡¯t mean physical strength. If she purified the room the steel plates wouldn¡¯t be any obstacle to her escape. The technique that destroyed the dwarf¡¯s armor should work just as well here. That was the most powerful purification technique she knew, and Marie-Bell had all the time in the world to gather power.

    The hammer went up above her head and she closed her eyes to better concentrate. A steady stream of power flowed from her core to the hammer¡¯s head, pulsing in rhythm to her heart. The heavy darkness descended over her again, but this time she knew what to expect. Her breathing remained steady and the power continued to flow.

    ¡°That won¡¯t work,¡± her tormentor screeched. ¡°You¡¯ll never get free that way.¡±

    Marie-Bell ignored the creature as she did the darkness. If anything its protests encouraged her. When the hammer couldn¡¯t hold another drop of power, Marie-Bell slammed it into the floor.

    A wave of holy light rushed in every direction. The runes on the door sizzled and burned away. A pained scream was followed a moment later by a foot-tall creature resembling a wrinkled old man covered in white flames falling out of a niche in the ceiling. It rolled around on the floor swatting at the flames covering its chest and legs.

    When it managed to extinguish the flames it climbed to its feet and whirled toward Marie-Bell. Her hammer struck it on the top of the head and crushed it flat. The creature turned to black mist and vanished back to hell where it belonged.

    Now all she had to do was batter down the door and find Jen and Damien.

 5.46

    Damien settled on the narrow path, drew Lizzy, and started toward the source of corruption. As he walked he poured power into his shield while Lizzy charged the edge of her blade with gray fire. Whoever or whatever awaited them, they¡¯d be ready.

    The path sloped steadily downward. Damien strained all his senses, both sorcerous and mundane, but detected nothing beyond the roiling corruption. The source had stopped moving which suggested it had reached the battlefield of its choosing. Damien wasn¡¯t thrilled about having to fight on unfamiliar ground, but since he¡¯d never seen this cavern before the whole place was unfamiliar. He¡¯d just have to adapt.

    As he drew closer to the source of the corruption his lights continued to dim, forcing Damien to spend more energy to maintain them. It wasn¡¯t a ton of power relative to what he had available, but he begrudged every drop lost before a battle. Unfortunately, walking blind into a fight was an even worse option.

    The path began to widen and the stalagmites grew less frequent until they disappeared all together. Damien came to a steep slope. When he¡¯d clambered up to the top a stunning sight spread out below him. An ancient ruin filled an endless cavern. It seemed like someone might have mentioned a hidden city to him.

    Cold, blue ghost lights drifted through the tumbled towers and crushed homes. Everything was made of stone, or at least everything that had withstood the passage of time. And one look at the place told Damien it was ancient beyond anything he had ever heard of. It reminded him of the stone circle they¡¯d investigated two days ago. It would be interesting to see if the ledger mentioned this place. Even if it didn''t the scholars at The Tower would be drooling when he told them about it.

    He glided down to the cavern floor and set out once more in the direction of the corruption. Damien sensed no life and only one source of corruption. Could it be Connor Blackman himself? No, whatever it was it was weaker than Mikhail.

    Damien sighed and stopped speculating. He¡¯d see soon enough and deal with it accordingly.

    Even damaged the stone building loomed above him. Who had lived here? The ruin obviously predated the arrival of the first imperial colonists. No books he¡¯d read made any mention of it. That suggested it was already buried when the colonists first arrived. Perhaps an earthquake had sent the whole city down into the cavern below. Damien looked up at the undamaged ceiling. If the city came from above who had fixed the roof and more to the point how had they done it?This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    So many questions and not nearly enough answers. He rounded a corner and a plaza opened up before him. A woman stood alone in the center facing him, her hands behind her back. She was the source of the corruption. Black veins ran under her skin and her eyes glowed red. A warlock then, one of Connor¡¯s servants.

    ¡°Damien St. Cloud?¡± she asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s right. And you are?¡±

    She smiled, displaying perfect white teeth. ¡°I¡¯m Morana. You¡¯ve probably heard of me.¡±

    In fact Damien hadn¡¯t heard of her. He frowned. Jen mentioned a redheaded sorcerer that worked with Mikhail. Maybe this was her. ¡°Didn¡¯t you used to be a redhead?¡±

    She ran the fingers of one hand through her limp black hair and sighed. ¡°Yes. My curls are the only thing I miss about being human.¡±

    Morana seemed a little sad to him. Being transformed into a monster with demonic soul force would do that to you. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d be willing to surrender and come along quietly?¡±

    She brought her other hand around to the front. It held one of the black urns. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I would.¡±

    Black lightning surged out. Damien caught most of it on Lizzy¡¯s blade. His soul force rushed out and pain rushed in.

    Lizzy reinforced his power and between her and his own rapid regeneration of energy he broke even with the drain.

    Morana stared at him, her mouth hanging partway open. Damien leaned into the lightning and pushed forward. His muscles spasmed and vision blurred. Everywhere the lightning touched felt like a red-hot poker striking his skin, but he bore it.

    One step after another he closed the distance.

    He couldn¡¯t attack with soul force, the urn would absorb it in an instant, but he still had a perfectly good sword in his hands. He just had to get close enough and he¡¯d cut her goddamn head off.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he muttered as he pushed through the storm of lightning.

    I can no longer feel physical pain.

    Damien grunted. ¡°Lucky you.¡±

    He was only three steps away when another, monstrous source of corruption approached. He turned just in time to take another blast of lightning in the side. The last of his soul force rushed out and Damien collapsed.

    A man appeared above him. At least he had been a man at some point.

    ¡°Connor Blackman,¡± Damien gasped out.

    ¡°Yes. Damien St. Cloud, this meeting has been a long time coming. You have proven yourself a worthy adversary. But our conflict has ended the only way possible. Now go to sleep.¡±

    The most powerful surge of lightning yet tore into Damien and everything went dark.

 5.47

    Morana had arrived in the plaza exactly as she planned. Her subordinates had the target¡¯s allies under control up above. All she had to do was wait for him to arrive, use the urn, and fly him back to Connor. Her master would be so pleased when she returned with his prize. Of course Mikhail had gotten himself killed, but Connor couldn¡¯t blame her for the black knight¡¯s stupidity. It wasn¡¯t Morana¡¯s fault he flew off on his own to confront Damien.

    She nodded to herself. It most certainly wasn¡¯t her fault. Maybe if she said it a few more times she¡¯d start to believe it.

    A shiver ran through her as the target¡¯s soul force drew closer. Outside of Connor himself she¡¯d never felt a presence as powerful as Damien¡¯s. If Morana hadn¡¯t had the urn she would have fled already. As it was it took all her willpower to remain standing in the plaza and not tremble.

    A scuff of boots on gravel alerted her to his arrival. Just looking at the boy you wouldn¡¯t have thought he was anything special. Average height, lean, sinewy build, and hard, cold eyes. His gaze locked with Morana and she had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

    They had a brief conversation, surprisingly pleasant. He even asked about her hair. Morana had really loved her coppery hair. When Damien offered to let her surrender she whipped out the urn and fed corrupt soul force into it.

    Black lightning shot out and she directed it toward him. Unlike a regular person or sorcerer, a warlock like Morana could control the urn¡¯s power without suffering any ill effects.

    She expected him to drop just like all the others she¡¯d fought. He didn¡¯t. Most of the lightning was deflected by the demon sword and while it did drain some of his power he regenerated so fast the urn couldn¡¯t drain him dry.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.Damien leaned forward and took a step toward her.

    Morana stared. It wasn¡¯t possible.

    He took another step, his face set in a pained scowl, proving her thought a lie. There would be no surrender offered her now. If she didn¡¯t finish draining him, Damien would kill her without a second thought. She saw it in his eyes.

    He was only five paces away when a familiar, dark presence approached. Master?

    Four steps away. Connor drew close. Would he arrive in time to save her or avenge her?

    Three steps away. A second stream of lightning struck Damien in the side and finally put him down. Not out though. He still glared at her through pain-filled eyes.

    Connor said something to the boy, though she only half heard, before hitting him with another blast and rendering him unconscious.

    ¡°Connor, I¡ª¡±

    He rounded on her. ¡°Be silent. And be grateful that I still have a use for you. Otherwise I¡¯d kill you where you stand for disobeying me. Bad enough your stupidity cost me a useful tool, but you almost failed to capture the boy. If I hadn''t sensed Mikhail¡¯s death or if I¡¯d been any later getting here he would have killed you. Why do you think I said to have Mikhail help you?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault, Master. Mikhail went after the boy on his own the moment he sensed his soul force. I couldn¡¯t stop him.¡±

    ¡°You should have gone with him. After Mikhail weakened Damien you could have struck him down easily.¡± Connor shook his head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter now. We have what I need. Keep your urn ready and stay close to him. I¡¯ll transport us back to the cavern.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t think he might wake after that?¡±

    ¡°How much more evidence do you need that we¡¯re not dealing with a normal sorcerer? Now do as I say.¡±

    Morana stood beside Damien and a black bubble formed around them. She glared down at the young man. He¡¯d cost her Connor¡¯s good will, but at least she¡¯d survived. Considering she was surrounded by monsters, that was something.

    They flew over the ruined city, down a tunnel and out into the sky half a mile from Port Valcane. Even with Connor¡¯s speed it would take them half a day to return to the cavern. Damien groaned and tried to sit up.

    Disbelieving, Morana hit him with a blast from her urn. The boy collapsed again. How could he have recovered in less than an hour?

    She shook her head and kept the urn primed with dark soul force. Monsters, they were both monsters.

 5.48

    Jen stood over the corpse of the man that led her father to his death. She¡¯d hoped to feel some satisfaction when she avenged Dad¡¯s murder, but the sight of the dead body just turned her stomach. Not that she regretted killing him, the man had been a psychopath of the first order. Killing him would have been a good service to the kingdom even if she hadn¡¯t wanted to do it for her own reasons.

    Her gaze moved from Koran to Mayor Solomon, The Keeper of the Keys. She never would have guessed the man was a member of the Horned One¡¯s cult. He¡¯d had the reputation of being one of the least corrupt lord mayors in recent memory. The blood had almost dried on his shirt and the death stink was growing stronger by the second in the closed-up bedroom. Time to find Damien and Marie-Bell and get out of here. No way she could avoid anther visit with Tosh, but at least she didn¡¯t have to shake hands with a bunch of local officials. Sometimes you had to take pleasure in the little things life handed you.

    She pushed the bedroom door open and stepped out into the empty hall. Considering everything that had happened this evening, Jen wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if the only person in the mansion was the butler that led them into the trap.

    She frowned. Speaking of the butler, she¡¯d need to have a chat with him, see what he knew about his master¡¯s loyalties.

    Jen looked left and right. They¡¯d taken so many twists and turns she had no idea where she¡¯d ended up. A loud thump reverberated through the hall. Another followed soon after. Jen followed the sound, alert for more trouble. Four more blows rang out before she reached the section of corridor where the trap was sprung. An odd bulge had formed in one of the doors.

    Another crash was followed by the bent door slamming to the hall floor with a heavy steel plate on top of it. Marie-Bell stepped out into the hall, her hammer raised. She spotted Jen and lowered her weapon.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± they both said at the same moment.

    Jen smiled for the first time since she killed Koran and some of the pain melted out of her. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°Me too.¡± Marie-Bell looked up and down the hall. ¡°Where¡¯s Damien?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea. Can¡¯t you sense his soul force?¡± Jen asked.

    Marie-Bell¡¯s eyes went white and she spun a slow circle. Finally she shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t sense him anywhere. He¡¯s either miles away, being shielded from detection, or¡­¡±

    ¡°Or dead?¡± Jen asked, her throat tight. He couldn¡¯t be dead. Jen refused to believe she¡¯d avenged her father only to lose her brother.

    Marie-Bell nodded. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I wish there was something else I could do.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you sensed the butler?¡±

    Marie-Bell blinked. ¡°I did detect a weak soul force deeper in the mansion. I ignored it since it couldn¡¯t be Damien.¡±

    ¡°Lead the way.¡±

    Jen followed Marie-Bell deeper into the mansion. She set a more direct course, confidently choosing a direction at each intersection. Their path followed monotonous, picture-lined hall after picture-lined hall. Finally Marie-Bell shoved open a door.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    The butler sat slumped in a simple leather chair that was dwarfed by the massive ballroom around him. He held a half-full glass of wine in his hand. Jen frowned when he didn¡¯t look up. Even from a distance the butler¡¯s heart sounded sluggish.

    She turned to Marie-Bell. ¡°I think he poisoned himself. Can you heal him?¡±

    Marie-Bell rushed across the room and skidded to a stop beside the dying butler. She placed her hands on his chest and white light streamed into him. Jen held her breath until the butler drew a deep, trembling breath.

    Marie-Bell moved back away from him. ¡°He¡¯ll live. I read his aura and found nothing evil. He¡¯s just a big, indifferent, gray blob. I¡¯ve never encountered anything like it.¡±

    Jen joined Marie-Bell beside the butler. She didn¡¯t especially care about the man¡¯s aura. All she cared about was whether he could tell her what happened to her brother. The old man still looked half out of it.

    Jen slapped him hard across the face. His eyes popped open. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°That got your attention, did it? Where¡¯s my brother?¡±

    He groaned and the wine glass fell out of his hand to shatter on the floor. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just let me die? I¡¯m so very tired.¡±

    Her backhand snapped his head around. ¡°You don¡¯t get off that easy. Rest assured if you don¡¯t answer my questions dying is still very much an option. Now where¡¯s Damien?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°Gone, I assume. His capture was the whole point of this charade. I listened in on the planning, to better understand my role, simple as it was. They wanted to separate the three of you and keep you ladies busy long enough that you couldn¡¯t help the boy. Since you¡¯re here and he isn¡¯t I guess it worked.¡±

    Jen snarled an obscenity. She¡¯d been so intent on killing Koran she¡¯d never even considered the whole point of him showing himself was so she¡¯d chase him away from Damien. It had never been some elaborate trap to wear her down, he¡¯d just wanted to keep her busy long enough for his masters to capture Damien. And she¡¯d done exactly what they wanted. Her useless revenge had cost Jen her brother.

    ¡°How were they planning to capture him?¡± Jen asked. It wasn¡¯t like any ordinary person could overwhelm Damien."

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t privy to the details beyond what I just told you. The cult leader seemed confident her plan would succeed.¡±

    ¡°Her plan. The redhead?¡±

    The butler nodded. ¡°Mistress Morana did indeed have red hair once upon a time. I¡¯m not entirely certain she¡¯s even human any longer. She left for a time and when she returned her appearance had changed and she had an unnatural feeling around her. Everyone had always been cautious around her, but now it was like walking across burning coals, you never knew when you might get burned.¡±

    ¡°Can you describe the changes?¡± Marie-Bell asked.

    Jen whirled around. ¡°Who cares?¡±

    ¡°If he describes the changes I may be able to figure out what has happened to her and what sort of creature we¡¯re dealing with. If we have to rescue Damien, it would be useful to know what we¡¯re up against.¡± Marie-Bell spoke in a calm, soothing voice.

    Jen took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Marie-Bell was right of course. Jen couldn''t let her emotions overwhelm her again. She should know better, acting on emotion had allowed Damien to get captured in the first place.

    ¡°Well, what about it?¡± Jen asked.

    The butler sighed. ¡°Her skin grew paler, and black veins became visible under the surface. She no longer ate or drank anything that I saw, and her red hair turned limp and black.¡±

    Marie-Bell chewed her lip. ¡°She¡¯s become a warlock. There¡¯s no doubt of that. The question is has she become a true warlock or a subordinate one.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°A true warlock has made a deal directly with a demon lord and a subordinate one has gained the use of a true warlock¡¯s power. A subordinate warlock is far weaker than a true warlock.¡±

    ¡°You can bet your last royal that she¡¯s the weaker one. I doubt Connor Blackman is the sort to risk one of his servants becoming as powerful as he is. Where did she attack my brother?¡±

    ¡°The catacombs.¡± The butler appeared to have resigned himself to answering all their questions.

    ¡°How do we get there?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°There¡¯s a hidden passage in the basement or you can jump down the trapdoor in the hall. That¡¯s the way your brother went.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll take the stairs,¡± Marie-Bell said. ¡°Lead the way.¡±

 5.49

    In the light of Marie-Bell¡¯s hammer Jen gaped at the massive space under the mansion, under the city really. The cavern clearly covered far more than a single acre. At the bottom of the hidden staircase they¡¯d followed a short tunnel that emerged on a level area above the floor of the main cavern. Steep stairs had been carved into the cavern wall, allowing easy access to the rest of the chamber. Though they hadn¡¯t taken time to confirm it Jen wouldn¡¯t have been the least surprised to discover the tunnels they found earlier connected to this space. It was a maze filled with rats. She devoutly hoped that the rats showed themselves. Her anger needed an outlet.

    After the butler showed them to the stairs they had left him unconscious in a closet near the hidden door. He appeared to have given up all resistance, but Jen had no intention of risking him running off or attempting to kill himself again.

    ¡°Where do we start?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°This way.¡± Marie-Bell led the way down the steps and at the bottom turned left.

    As they walked the paladin¡¯s gaze constantly darted left and right, like a hound on a weak scent. Jen had no idea how long they walked in the dark, but eventually they scrambled up a steep slope. When they reached the ledge a ruined city spread out before them. Jen stared, marveling at her ignorance. There was so much in the kingdom that she simply had no idea about.

    Marie-Bell paused only a moment before skidding down to the ruins and resuming her hunt. Jen drew her sword and followed. There were too many places in the ruins for ambushers to hide. They made it to an open plaza before Marie-Bell stopped.

    ¡°It happened here. Powerful demonic energy was unleashed not that long ago.¡±

    Jen looked around for some clue as to what happened, but the bare stone gave away nothing. She closed her eyes to better hear, but there was nothing beyond their heartbeats. Damien was gone and at least for now she could do nothing about it.

    ¡°Can you tell which way they went?¡± Jen asked.

    Marie-Bell pointed the opposite way from where they¡¯d come. ¡°The trail is weak. Not much energy was spent after the battle.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯d better hurry.¡±

    Jen ran in the direction indicated at warlord speed, the ruins little more than a blur around her. Marie-Bell followed a little behind and to her right. She assumed the paladin would correct her if she got off course.

    After half a mile or so the ruins ended and it became natural stone again. The cavern narrowed down to a tunnel, still wide enough for the two of them to run side by side with no trouble. The floor was smooth and free of obstructions. Someone had worked the stone, no way was the tunnel naturally this perfect.

    Five minutes later they emerged from a hidden shaft sunk into the ground at an angle. Jen spun. Behind them Port Valcane¡¯s lights glimmered in the dark. This explained how the cultists moved people and supplies into the city without anyone noticing. How many more surprises were waiting out in the night?¡±

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.¡°I can¡¯t sense them anymore,¡± Marie-Bell said. ¡°The tunnel concentrated their energy, but out here it¡¯s already dissipated. I¡¯m sorry, Jen.¡±

    Jen clenched her fist for a moment before forcing herself to relax. Getting angry wouldn¡¯t do her brother any good. If anything it had already done him a great deal of ill. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Can you fly us back to Watch Headquarters? I need to tell Tosh about the lord mayor and see if he¡¯s learned anything useful from the cultists. Until the king appoints a new mayor, Tosh is in charge of the government, heaven help them.¡±

    Marie-Bell conjured a pair of white horses and Jen leapt on her mount¡¯s back. It took only a moment to realize she had no actual control over the construct. It flew beside Marie-Bell¡¯s mount regardless of what Jen did. While it felt odd riding a horse she couldn¡¯t control, the warmth and vitality that flowed into her as she sat on it more than made up for her lack of control. When they landed beside Watch Headquarters Jen felt energized and ready for anything, even Tosh.

    They¡¯d only been gone about an hour and the guards on duty waved them right in. Jen marched straight up the stairs. Tosh¡¯s secretary raised an eyebrow at their return.

    ¡°We need to see him, now,¡± Jen said.

    Whether in appreciation of Jen¡¯s urgency or fear that she might simply kick the door in if made to wait, the secretary hopped to her feet and hurried over to the closed door. She knocked, poked her head in, and a moment later waved Jen and Marie-Bell over.

    Jen smiled her thanks as she passed and stepped into the familiar office. Tosh sat behind his desk frowning at them. ¡°I figured you¡¯d still be shaking hands and accepting well wishes.¡±

    ¡°It was a trap,¡± Jen said. ¡°The lord mayor is dead along with a handful of cultists. My brother has been captured and I have no idea where he might be.¡±

    Tosh¡¯s jaw dropped and for perhaps the first time in his life appeared speechless. When he finally collected himself Tosh said, ¡°Maybe you¡¯d better start at the beginning.¡±

    Jen told him everything that happened to her and Marie-Bell added her own battle to the mix. When they finished Tosh said, ¡°The mayor was a cultist? I can¡¯t believe it. If word gets out there¡¯ll be chaos.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why I told you in private.¡± Jen ran a hand through her hair, still stiff in places from the blood of the man she¡¯d killed. ¡°I recommend saying the cult killed him and not mentioning his connection. It¡¯s irrelevant now that he¡¯s dead.¡±

    Tosh wore a thoughtful frown. ¡°That¡¯s probably best. What do you want in exchange?¡±

    ¡°I always knew you were smarter than you looked. Have any of the prisoners mentioned The Keeper of the Keys?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve only interviewed half of them, but I know I¡¯ve read that name in the reports. Who is it?¡± He shuffled through the papers on his desk, sorting them into two piles.

    ¡°Who do you think?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°The mayor?¡±

    Jen nodded and accepted one of the piles.

    ¡°That¡¯s every transcript that mentions him. You¡¯re welcome to read them, but you can¡¯t take them out of here. What am I going to tell the nobles? Everyone liked Mayor Solomon.¡±

    Jen glanced up from the paper she was reading. ¡°Tell them the truth, or at least a little of it. Turn him into a hero murdered by cowards. Use his death to make everyone hate the cult even more. It¡¯s the least he can do after all the trouble he caused us.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re not a politician?¡± Tosh asked.

    Jen glared at him. ¡°I¡¯ll forgive you that insult just this once. Now be quiet so I can read.¡±

    Jen and Marie-Bell spent more time reading reports than they did exploring the cavern under Public House. Precious little was said about the mayor beyond naming The Keeper of the Keys as a hidden figure of menace that the regular members seldom saw and that they knew even less about. One phrase stuck out in a majority of the reports Jen had read and Marie-Bell mentioned it as well: The Harvest. It sounded ominous and few details were given beyond a cult rumor that death was coming from the Kingdom of Alexious, wherever that was. They had a great deal of data and nowhere near enough actual knowledge.

    Jen tossed her stack back on the desk and rubbed her eyes. They¡¯d learned all they could here. It was time to fly back to the capital and tell the archmage and Uncle Andy what had happened. Who would be more upset, his master, the king, or Karrie? Jen didn¡¯t know, but she doubted any of them could come close to matching her anger.

 5.50

    Connor flew directly to the space he intended Damien to occupy. He sensed no change in the crystal matrix and saw no sign that anything had entered the cave during his absence. The loss of Mikhail rankled even more since it meant he risked leaving the cave open to any invaders that wished to enter and were strong enough to overcome his ward.

    Connor grimaced. There was nothing to be done about it now. Once he had his army nothing would be able to stop him.

    The bubble vanished the moment he set it on the crystal path. Morana straightened up and looked at him with wide eyes. ¡°He woke up five times over the course of the trip. How is that even possible?¡±

    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.¡°He¡¯s a remarkable young man.¡± Connor gestured and Damien was lifted up into place by bands of dark soul force.

    When his left wrist touched the crystal a shackle grew around it. Damien¡¯s right hand still clenched the demon sword, just as Connor had hoped when he ordered Koran to lure the father to his death. When it was in place Connor sent a stream of hellfire into the crystal, altering its growth so Damien¡¯s whole right hand was encased in crystal. That would prevent him from releasing the sword and denying Connor access to its additional power.

    Once he¡¯d secured the bindings soul force rushed out of the boy and up the wall toward the portal chamber. With that much energy flowing into it Connor could begin building his army at once. In a week or two he¡¯d control the most powerful force the continent had ever seen. After all the problems and delays, at last everything had fallen into place. It was time to begin The Harvest.

 6.1

    Damien groaned and his eyes fluttered open. Everything hurt. What had happened and how did he end up here, wherever here was? His shoulders especially were screaming at him, probably because his arms were above his head. When he tried to move he found he was stuck. He craned his neck and found his wrists were bound by some sort of blue crystal. Everywhere he looked the shiny stuff covered everything. Small flickers of energy appeared below and then ran through the crystal accompanied by crackles and sizzles. It almost sounded like someone was frying bacon at too high a temperature.

    At least his feet were flat on the ground so he wasn¡¯t hanging by his wrists. An electric ozone smell filled the air, like after a lightning strike. It was mingled with something else, something unnatural.

    It¡¯s a mixture of sulfur and brimstone. There¡¯s an open hell gate around here somewhere.

    He turned to the right. Crystal completely covered his hand and Lizzy jutted out above the binding. The blade didn¡¯t look damaged, but he couldn¡¯t let go.

    ¡°You okay?¡±

    Fine, but my power is being drained as fast as I generate it.

    Damien turned his focus inward and found he was in the same state. His soul force along with Lizzy¡¯s rushed out of him at a frightening pace, faster than when that witch attacked him with the urn. The battle with Morana all came back to him, including Connor¡¯s last-second arrival. That explained how he ended up here, but not where he was.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    He leaned as far forward as the restraints allowed and looked both ways. A curving path led up and away to the left. To the right there was another person connected to the crystal. He squinted and tried to focus in the unsteady light. It looked like¡­

    ¡°Imogen?¡± It was her, but she¡¯d seen better days. She slumped in her restraints, eyes closed and unresponsive. He could just make out the faint rise and fall of her breast. How many more of his fellow sorcerers were shackled to this place?

    Damien straightened back up. He couldn¡¯t help her now. He needed to do something for himself, and getting out of these restraints would be an excellent start. He tugged on his left hand. There was a little play between his wrist and the shackle, but not much. The other hand was so totally bound he had no hope of getting it loose.

    ¡°Can you get a sense of where we are?¡±

    With my power being drained I¡¯m even more limited in my perceptions.

    ¡°Swell. Do you have any suggestions?¡±

    I¡¯m sorry, Damien. We appear thoroughly captured. I don¡¯t see any options beyond outside assistance.

    They¡¯d probably be dead before help arrived, if it ever did. No, they were on their own.

    He twisted his wrist back and forth. If he could gash it the blood might provide lubricant enough to get him out. He winced when he found a spur sharp enough to draw blood. It wasn¡¯t a deep cut, but the warm liquid ran down his arm in enough volume to make things slick.

    He pulled and twisted, grimacing through the pain. In truth, the additional discomfort was only a tiny bit worse than the constant pain that filled every inch of him. It didn¡¯t seem like it could get much worse.

    Damien shouldn¡¯t have thought that.  A moment later an electric burst of pain ran through him. Every muscle clenched, turning his body into a giant cramp. His vision dimmed for a moment, but he fought through it and the pain let up.

    What in the hell was that? And more importantly, would it happen again?

 6.2

    Connor couldn¡¯t restrain his smile when he watched the energy flowing through the crystal matrix. Since he added Damien and the demon sword to his collection the energy available had more than doubled. It was a rare bit of good luck. The only way he could have used the demon sword¡¯s power was to draw it through a human sorcerer. He stood at the apex of the cavern, the swirling darkness of the hell gate above him. On its pedestal the Soul Burn Crystal pulsed with stored energy. He ran a loving hand over the smooth blue surface. It reminded him of a giant sapphire, burning with an inner light.

    ¡°Are you going to play with it all day, or are you going to start building an army?¡± Connor had hung the spirit in the mirror from a jutting rock spear off to one side of the crystal chamber. In his pleasure at having collected enough power sources, he¡¯d forgotten all about the obnoxious creature.

    ¡°I¡¯m savoring the moment. Now be silent.¡±

    The spirit snorted, but made no further comments. It had a point though. After all this time Connor had waited long enough. He sent his will along with a trickle of hellfire into the crystal. The ground shook and a pair of oblong crystal growths with simple protrusions that resembled facial features poked up. They were followed shortly by boxy shoulders, long arms, massive chests, and legs.

    In less than a minute Connor had grown two crude humanoids out of blue crystal. Ugly things, but they should prove sufficient hosts. They didn¡¯t need to be pretty, just strong. With the hosts complete, Connor released a portion of the collected soul force from the crystal into the hell gate. Energy swirled and crackled overhead. Two bolts of black lightning struck the crystal figures. The lattice shifted and reshaped. Crude features twisted in cruel, hate-filled sneers. Eye sockets filled with red light.  Talons and spurs of razor-sharp crystal grew from their hands and feet.

    ¡°Kneel.¡±

    Connor held his breath. For a moment he feared they might not obey, that he might have to destroy his new creations before he could use them. To his considerable relief, after a brief hesitation, the crystal warriors went down on one knee. Connor blew out the breath he¡¯d been holding. So far so good.

    The spirit cackled. ¡°Congratulations, you can manage two of them. Let¡¯s see you make an army.¡±

    Connor debated for perhaps the thousandth time blasting the mirror and once again decided against it. It wasn¡¯t that he cared about the spirit so much as that he didn¡¯t want to smash one of King Alexious¡¯s treasures. It felt rude. Instead, he conjured a dark globe around the mirror that muted the spirit¡¯s grating laugh. Not as satisfying, but sufficient.

    Now for the next test. He placed a finger on the side of the crystal and drew out a small ring.

    ¡°Come with me.¡±

    He left the portal chamber and walked along the spiral path down towards the cave entrance. The crystal demons made every bit as much noise as Mikhail ever did filling him with an odd nostalgia. He never imagined missing the dimwitted knight, but the cavern seemed empty without his hulking presence.

    Connor paused when he reached his newest power source. The boy glared at him with hate-filled eyes. More interesting was the simple fact that he somehow remained conscious. Remarkable durability and willpower. A trickle of blood had dried on the prisoner¡¯s arm.

    Connor stepped closer and wiped it off. ¡°You must be more careful. If you accidentally kill yourself it will be very inconvenient for me. Please refrain from struggling in your restraints.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you, you pasty-faced son of a bitch,¡± Damien said. His gaze darted to the crystal soldiers then back to Connor. ¡°What are those things?¡±

    Connor thought for a moment then shrugged. What could it hurt to tell him? Besides, Connor seldom had anyone, besides Morana, to talk to who actually understood what he was doing. It might be fun to brag a bit.

    ¡°They¡¯re demonic vessels. I grew them out of the blue crystal then animated them with a demon spirit.¡±

    Damien raised an eyebrow. ¡°Like golems?¡±

    Connor smiled. He really was a clever boy. ¡°Very similar, yes. I¡¯m impressed you drew the parallel. Many young sorcerers wouldn¡¯t have had a clue. You must have studied a great deal.¡±

    Damien nodded. ¡°Mostly when I was trying to figure out what you were up to. I read every book you read during your time at The Tower. Some pretty dark stuff.¡±

    Connor could hardly contain his excitement. ¡°It¡¯s fascinating, isn¡¯t it? Divine creatures are simply amazing in their adaptability and power. I¡¯ve been entranced with them ever since I discovered what they were capable of. Yet for all their power they are at their most basic simply energy and that energy can be controlled by humans. To a certain extent anyway.¡±

    ¡°You still consider yourself human?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°Not purely human, no. A warlock represents the best of both worlds. A human mind and body controlling divine soul force. We¡¯re not so different, your protests to the side.¡± Connor looked from Damien to his sword. ¡°We both control demonic soul force. And we¡¯re both made greater by its infusion into our bodies. Do you deny it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t control Lizzy. She has her own will and chooses to use her power to help me for which I am grateful beyond words. You, however, are nothing but a tool for a demon lord.¡±

    Connor shrugged. ¡°I traded service for power. I¡¯m no different from any human knight serving a king, it¡¯s just that my lord is so much stronger than any mortal ruler.¡±

    Damien sighed and shook his head. ¡°You can believe that if it makes you feel better, but we both know it¡¯s nonsense.¡±

    Connor had grown bored with the conversation. In the end, the boy was no different than all the others. He simply couldn¡¯t understand Connor¡¯s greatness. No amount of explanation would help. It was time to resume his work.

    He took a step down the ramp and Damien said, ¡°Your cousin Giovanni says hello. He seemed quite anxious about your wellbeing.¡±

    Connor spun. He hadn¡¯t thought about his dear cousin in years. ¡°Where did you see him?¡±

    ¡°Under Port Valcane. Your allies were about to cut his heart out as an offering to your precious lord. I talked them out of it.¡±

    ¡°Talked?¡±

    Damien grinned. ¡°Boom!¡±

    ¡°Is he okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Looks like he might have missed a few meals, but other than that he seemed fine. Were you two close?¡±

    Connor smiled at Damien¡¯s disbelieving tone. Giovanni had always understood him better than anyone. They¡¯d been inseparable as kids. When Connor went to The Tower and started down his true path he tried to convince Giovanni to join him, but in the end his cousin had been too pedestrian in his thinking, unable to wrap his mind around the glory Connor had offered him. Giovanni would have been a much better knight than Mikhail: more brains, less arrogance.

    They went their separate ways years ago, but Connor continued to miss his dear friend. It would have been nice to find a way to save Giovanni when it came time for the final sacrifice, but Connor saw no path for that. Pity, but that was why they called them sacrifices.

    ¡°I know it doesn¡¯t mean much coming from me, but thank you for saving him.¡±

    Connor continued on past his unconscious prisoners and out of the cave. Morana sat on a conjured stool and was staring off into the emptiness of the haunted lands. She hopped to her feet when he drew close.

    ¡°It¡¯s boring out here.¡± She looked past him at the two crystal demons. ¡°Are those the first?¡±

    He nodded and handed her the ring. ¡°Here, practice commanding them. All you need to do is concentrate and they should do what you want. At the very least the ring will keep them from attacking you.¡±

    She stared at him then down at the ring. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Reasonably. This is all a first for me as much as it is for you. Good luck.¡± Connor started back inside and the crystal demons followed. He stopped and pointed to the ground in front of Morana. ¡°Stay!¡±

    Connor took a couple steps and when it became clear the constructs weren¡¯t going to follow nodded once. It was time to get serious about making his army.

 6.3

    Jen and Marie-Bell dismounted from their conjured horses in the courtyard of the royal castle. They had flown through the night to reach the capital as quickly as possible. Every moment Damien was gone Jen feared what might be happening to him. The castle grounds looked perfectly normal; no additional guards roamed the grounds and no sorcerers flew through the sky overhead. Dad was dead and Damien captured, but the world went on just like normal.

    ¡°It¡¯s rather plain, isn¡¯t it?¡± Marie-Bell seemed a good deal less impressed with the castle than she had been with Public House.

    ¡°It was built for defense first. The city just grew up around it over time. While it isn¡¯t pretty, I¡¯m reasonably sure no one inside wants to kill or capture us.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s certainly a point in its favor. What now?¡±

    ¡°Now we see the king and tell him everything that¡¯s happened.¡±

    Jen walked toward the main entrance with Marie-Bell and was waved through. The throne room doors were open at the end of the hall and a few dozen people filled the space. It looked like Uncle Andy was having court early today. The archmage was beside him on the left and the captain of the guard on the right. That was both convenient and a pain. She knew where everyone was, but now they needed to draw their attention and clear the room. She very much doubted Uncle Andy would want what they were about to say to get out to the public.

    They had barely stepped into the crowded room when the archmage spotted them. She¡¯d probably sensed Marie-Bell¡¯s unusual soul force. She leaned over and whispered in Uncle Andy¡¯s ear as he listened to a pair of merchants argue about lumber prices. Jen massaged the bridge of her nose. How the king managed to listen to everyone¡¯s problems and not scream or start swinging his sword was beyond her comprehension. It must have been part of his training.

    Uncle Andy stood up and the nattering merchants fell silent. ¡°Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for coming in early this morning, but an urgent matter has come up so I¡¯ll have to ask you to clear the room.¡±

    With considerable grumbling, the assembled petitioners were directed out by the guards flanking the doors. They¡¯d seen Jen visiting enough times to know she was probably the bearer of the urgent news. When the room was free of citizens and guards Uncle Andy waved them up before the throne.

    They had barely stopped when the archmage said, ¡°What¡¯s happening and where¡¯s my apprentice?¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Jen took a breath and told them everything that had happened in the city. When she reached the part about the lord mayor Uncle Andy¡¯s grip tightened on the arm of the throne so much Jen feared he might rip it off. She finished with Damien¡¯s disappearance and their fruitless search.

    ¡°Tosh was still processing the cultists when we left, but two things came up consistently. An event called The Harvest and a place called the Kingdom of Alexious.¡± Jen held her hands out. ¡°Neither means anything to me, but I suspect they are the key to finding Damien.¡±

    The archmage frowned, clearly deep in thought. Uncle Andy¡¯s emotions were far closer to the surface. He slammed his fist on the arm of the throne with enough force to crack it. ¡°I knew something was wrong in that city. How did our people miss something that big?¡±

    The archmage shook her head. ¡°No one knew anything about the hidden tunnels and on the surface the cultists acted perfectly normal. As long as everyone kept their mouths shut the only way our agents would have learned anything was dumb luck. If not for Connor Blackman accelerating their actions we probably still wouldn¡¯t know anything.¡±

    ¡°Is that supposed to make me feel better?¡± the king asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s not about how you feel, it¡¯s about what we can do now to fix things. We¡¯ve lost our ace and the enemy is advancing plans we know nothing about. This isn¡¯t a remotely good position for us. We¡¯ve been behind Connor since the beginning. It¡¯s time to get ahead.¡±

    ¡°How are we going to do that, ma¡¯am?¡± Jen asked.

    The archmage sighed, suddenly looking her age. ¡°I wish I knew.¡±

    ¡°I will return to the fortress and see if the senior paladins know anything that might be of use. I¡¯ll contact you as soon as I learn something.¡± Marie-Bell held out her hand and Jen shook it. ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure battling with you.¡±

    ¡°Likewise, and thanks for your help.¡±

    Uncle Andy stepped down from the throne. ¡°Indeed, we all thank you. Would you be kind enough to carry a message to your leaders for me?¡±

    Marie-Bell bobbed a curtsy. ¡°Of course, Majesty. I¡¯m at your service.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± He turned to the captain of the guard. ¡°Fetch my signet, wax, and a scroll from the desk in my office.¡±

    The captain bowed his head and rushed off at warlord speed. The archmage had barely finished conjuring a desk for the king to write on when the captain returned with the requested items. Uncle Andy sat at the desk and wrote a brief letter before sealing it with wax. When the wax had hardened he handed it to Marie-Bell.

    She accepted it with a bow. If the paladin was curious what he¡¯d written she had the good manners not to ask. Marie-Bell turned on her heel and marched out of the throne room. Jen hadn¡¯t known the other woman long, but she couldn¡¯t help feeling she¡¯d lost her last friend.

    ¡°You¡¯re right about us needing more information,¡± the archmage said. ¡°I¡¯d like to send you to The Tower so you can talk to Mariela. The demon scholar is there giving a talk to the students about cults and how they operate. She¡¯ll be your best option for information.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll take me a week to travel there by horse.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have a Crimson Legionnaire transport you, then continue on to Port Valcane to retrieve a copy of the cultists¡¯ statements. There might be something in them that the regular investigators missed.¡±

    Jen nodded. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±

 6.4

    Jen had never been to The Tower before. The black stone structure loomed over her, filling her with foreboding. How had Damien felt when he first arrived? Probably less nervous since Master Shen was with him. The Crimson Legionnaire that dropped Jen off hadn¡¯t hung around for a second longer than it took Jen to climb down from the back of the oversized horse he flew. She knew he was in a rush, but she¡¯d still hoped for an escort to the Headmaster¡¯s office.

    Oh, well. How hard could it be to find? According to her brother, non-sorcerers were only allowed on the first floor anyway. She¡¯d just knock on every door until she found him or someone gave her directions.

    The empty courtyard seemed a stark contrast to the usually bustling grounds of The Citadel. What purpose did the walled-in space serve if no one used it? The guards patrolling the wall watched her as she walked to the short flight of steps up to the tall black doors. Jen was used to men staring at her, but for some reason it bothered her more than usual today. Worrying about Damien had made her especially short-tempered. She shot the most brazen guard a one-fingered salute and yanked on the doors. Despite their size, they swung open with only a modest effort.

    Inside, waiting in a foyer that reminded her of the night sky, was a beautiful woman in a scandalous black dress. She had to be Mistress Ann. Jen couldn¡¯t imagine another sorcerer fitting Damien¡¯s description so perfectly.

    ¡°Mistress Ann.¡± Jen bowed to the sorcerer.

    ¡°Just Ann, please. You¡¯re Damien¡¯s sister. I¡¯ve been so looking forward to meeting you. Your brother is a wonderful young man. Will he be joining us?¡±

    She didn¡¯t know about Damien. Jen debated telling her then shrugged, unable to think of a reason not to. ¡°Damien¡¯s missing. We believe he¡¯s been captured by Connor Blackman.¡±

    The blood drained out of Ann¡¯s already pale skin. ¡°No. What happened?¡±

    Jen gave her a condensed version of events. ¡°I¡¯m hoping Mariela can shed some light on the situation. Can you show me to the Headmaster?¡±

    ¡°Of course, he asked me to wait for you. He received a message from the archmage alerting him to your arrival.¡±

    They started down the left-hand hall. As they walked Ann said, ¡°I can tell you a little about the Kingdom of Alexious. When I was helping Damien research Connor I came across the name several times. It¡¯s what they used to call the haunted lands before they became the haunted lands. King Alexious was the last ruler and a warlock. Apparently, he sacrificed the entire kingdom to power his ascension to the Horned One¡¯s side.¡±

    ¡°So he¡¯s like Connor¡¯s idol.¡±

    Ann nodded. ¡°You could say that.¡± They stopped in front of a closed door marked with a pentagram. ¡°This is it. I¡¯ll wait out here for you.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Jen knocked and the door swung open on its own. She stepped inside a cluttered office and the door clicked shut behind her. ¡°Headmaster?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    The small, white-bearded man behind the desk smiled at her. ¡°That¡¯s right. Pleasure to meet you, Jennifer, though I wish it were under better circumstances. The archmage has provided me with a rough idea of what¡¯s going on. I¡¯m so sorry about Damien.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±

    The old man chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re a great deal like him. I remember the first day he arrived, so stiff and proper. In fact, he was still stiff and proper when he graduated. Never could convince him to call me by my first name. Anyway, we¡¯re at your disposal. Mariela is waiting in conference room one. Just tell Ann and she¡¯ll show you the way.¡±

    Jen bowed and turned to find the door already open. Sorcerers, heaven¡¯s mercy, they were an odd bunch. Damien hadn¡¯t been kidding about that.

    Her jaw clenched. The Headmaster talked like Damien was dead. Jen refused to believe that. Damien was too strong to fall easily.

    ¡°Did your meeting go well?¡± Ann asked.

    ¡°He was very polite, but the conversation didn¡¯t really amount to much. Can you show me to conference room one?¡±

    Ann turned back the way they¡¯d come, crossed the foyer and went through the opposite door. She stopped just inside. Through an open doorway, Jen saw a familiar face. Mariela¡¯s dark hair had grown shoulder length and all signs of her near-death had vanished.

    She got out of her chair and walked around the long table that dominated the room. ¡°Jennifer, so good to see you again.¡±

    Jen held out her hand, but Mariela brushed it aside and hugged her. Jen tensed, not used to such intimate contact. She should have expected it. After all, Jen had saved the woman¡¯s life.

    Mariela stepped back, but kept her hands on Jen¡¯s shoulders. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±

    Jen glanced back at Ann who was still standing in the open doorway. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to join us. You studied this stuff with Damien so anything you can think of would help.¡±

    Ann smiled and slipped into a chair. Jen and Mariela sat side by side. Jen repeated her story for the third time and when she finished Mariela said, ¡°Since you already know the Kingdom of Alexious is the haunted lands, I can¡¯t add much there, but The Harvest is a much more obscure reference, at least among people that aren¡¯t members of demon cults. It generally refers to a mass sacrifice.¡±

    ¡°Like Alexious did when he wiped out his kingdom?¡± Ann asked.

    ¡°Yes, though not usually on that scale. The king¡¯s sacrifice is the largest harvest ever recorded. More often it refers to the members of one cult slaughtering the members of a rival.¡±

    That rang a bell in Jen. ¡°You mean like the Horned One¡¯s followers killing the followers of the Binder in Chains?¡±

    ¡°Exactly. The question now is, does The Harvest referred to by the captured cultists reference what Connor Blackman is doing, or to another slaughter altogether? There I can¡¯t help you.¡±

    Jen rubbed her temples. She hated this stuff. There was too much going on that she didn¡¯t understand. All she wanted was to know where Connor had taken Damien so she could rescue him. ¡°Let¡¯s assume it refers to whatever Connor has planned. What part would the cult have played in it?¡±

    Mariela gave her a blank look. ¡°I couldn¡¯t say. From what you¡¯ve told me all the leaders are dead and as a general rule cult leaders don¡¯t share more information with their underlings than necessary.¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯m no further ahead than when I got here. Great, what am I supposed to do now?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s one person who might be able to help, but I must warn you, he¡¯s a little eccentric,¡± Mariela said.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take my chances.¡± Jen leaned forward, eager to seize any opportunity.

    ¡°Okay, but don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you. Dorius was my mentor when I first began studying demonology. He teaches at King¡¯s College, though about half the time he¡¯s out prowling around some ruin or cult hideout. He¡¯s a genius in his field, but like many geniuses has a one-track mind. Still, if anyone can help you he can.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯d like I¡¯ll send a message to the college to make certain he¡¯s there before you leave,¡± Ann said.

    ¡°How can you be sure I¡¯ll go?¡± Jen asked.

    Ann smiled though it looked a little sad. ¡°What other options do you have?¡±

 6.5

    Marie-Bell landed outside her old home, the massive fortress that blocked the only pass leading from the kingdom to the haunted lands. On the kingdom side the stone walls rose only thirty feet and measured fifteen feet thick. Formidable to be certain, but nothing beside the tiered triple walls that sealed off the pass. Those massive ramparts were twice as high and three times as thick. While the fortress was no barrier to flying demons, it did serve to stop everything else that tried to pass by. And should any demon try to fly anywhere in the area the paladins on duty would sense its presence and fly out to attack. Not that any demon powerful enough to fly would be so stupid that it would approach the fortress too closely.

    The paladins manning the wall had spotted her and gathered above the portcullis. Marie-Bell dismounted and let the white horse fade away. She shouldered her pack, hefted her hammer, and walked the last few yards to the gate.

    On the other side of the bars a severe woman glared at Marie-Bell with angry blue eyes. Approaching fifty, her blond hair shot with gray, she had three scars crisscrossing her face. She wore the familiar silver plate engraved with a stylized fortress that was the symbol of her office as commander. Considering that Marie-Bell snuck out in the night rather than asking permission she hadn¡¯t expected a warm welcome.

    ¡°So you¡¯ve come crawling back already,¡± Commander Kendy said. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you lasted this long on your own. Give me one good reason I should let you back into our sacred fortress.¡±

    Marie-Bell fished the king¡¯s message out of her pack and held it out. ¡°I¡¯m not crawling back, ma¡¯am. The king himself asked me to deliver this message and fill you in on the current situation.¡±

    Commander Kendy moved closer to the bars and studied the seal. Her jaw bunched. ¡°Open the portcullis!¡±

    A moment later the heavy iron barrier clanked up into the slot above. Marie-Bell ducked under the portcullis and handed the letter to her superior. The commander snatched it out of her hand.

    ¡°Come along.¡±

    Marie-Bell followed Commander Kendy across the courtyard and into the main keep. Behind her she felt the glare of the wall guards burning into her back. Everyone was so regimented and orderly. They¡¯d never understand the feelings that compelled her to leave the fortress and seek her destiny in the wider world. Marie-Bell didn¡¯t fully understand it herself, but she knew she¡¯d done the right thing.

    Everything looked just like she remembered; the three-story fortress where the paladins and initiates lived and trained; the stone forge, quiet today, but ready to fire up at a moment¡¯s notice. Unlike normal knights, the paladins had no use for ordinary mounts so there was no stable, which pleased the initiates as they would have been the ones to have to clean it. Deeper in, out of sight, was the spare armory where the paladins guarding the walls could have easy access to replacement weapons.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The commander pushed the fortress doors open and led Marie-Bell through the entrance and past the chapel. Marie-Bell paused and glanced into the beautiful room. The light from the sun filtered through the stained glass windows sending multicolored lights dancing through the pews. The stone altar gleamed, its precious decorations polished to a high shine.

    ¡°I never should have let you go in there.¡±

    Marie-Bell turned back to her former mistress. ¡°It was fate. If it hadn¡¯t been that day it would have been another. The angels had decided to make me their agent well before you sent me to clean the chapel.¡±

    ¡°Why? You were just a servant girl.¡± Commander Kendy almost pleaded for an explanation she could make sense of.

    Unfortunately Marie-Bell had nothing to offer her. The will of the holy ones wasn¡¯t shared with mortals. The angel that bonded with her offered her only the hints she¡¯d already shared. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Commander, I have no idea why they chose me. I like to imagine they wanted to send a message.¡±

    ¡°What message?¡±

    ¡°That goodness and honor belong to everyone, not just those who train for it. After all, if a serving girl has the potential to become a paladin, anyone does.¡± She offered a bright smile as she shared her personal theory. That theory was also the reason she decided to leave the fortress and explore the kingdom. If she couldn¡¯t share her story it couldn¡¯t inspire anyone.

    Commander Kendy blew out a breath. ¡°More likely you¡¯re a prank the holy ones decided to play on us. Come on.¡±

    They left the chapel, made a right, and stepped into the commander¡¯s office. She closed the door and sat behind her ornate walnut desk. ¡°All right, let¡¯s hear it.¡±

    There were no other chairs forcing Marie-Bell to stand before the commander. She briefed her on everything that had happened since she met Damien and Jen. When she reached the part about Damien banishing the demon Commander Kendy let out a disbelieving snort. Marie-Bell didn¡¯t blame her. If she hadn¡¯t seen Damien do it with her own eyes she wouldn¡¯t have believed it either.

    When she finished Marie-Bell said, ¡°So do you know anything about the Kingdom of Alexious or The Harvest?¡±

    The commander had a faraway look as she stared at the ceiling. Marie-Bell frowned, but held her peace.

    Finally Commander Kendy shook her head as if to clear it. ¡°The Kingdom of Alexious is the old name of the haunted lands. If a warlock is indeed active out there it would explain the strange energy we¡¯ve been sensing. It was a weak new source of corruption until a day or so ago when the power spiked. That corresponds to the time your companion was captured.¡±

    Marie-Bell grew excited. Maybe Damien was in the haunted lands. Jen would be so happy to hear he might still be alive.

    Commander Kendy broke the seal on the king¡¯s letter. Her frown grew as she read it and when she finished she crumpled it up and threw it in the basket beside her desk.

    ¡°Commander?¡±

    ¡°Just politics, nothing you need to concern yourself with. I will have someone look up The Harvest in the archives. When we know something you can take a message back to the king. Why don¡¯t you go rest? Help yourself to one of the guest rooms.¡±

    Marie-Bell bowed. ¡°Thank you, Commander.¡±

 6.6

    Morana wiggled the blue ring on her right middle finger. It fit her perfectly. How had Connor known? Probably the same way he knew everything: he was a genius. She¡¯d been practicing with her new toys out in the hot, dry air for the past half a day. About twice each hour a massive spike of corrupt energy came from the cave and she knew Connor had created another pair of soldiers.

    She returned her attention to training. Getting the constructs to march was simple enough. She suspected if she ordered them to kill they¡¯d know exactly how to do it.

    Time to get back at it. She focused on Big Eyes and mentally commanded it to stand with its back to Broken Fang. Broken Fang picked up on the order and twisted around to make it easier for the first construct to obey her command. That was both useful and a failure. Her goal was to gain precise control over the two constructs. She couldn¡¯t do that if they both reacted to her orders even when she only wanted one to. Her thoughts were too unfocused.

    When Fang and Eyes stood back to back Morana tried to really focus her will just on Eyes. She commanded it to walk in a circle around Fang. The construct obliged and Fang didn¡¯t move. Morana grinned at her success before she realized the only way Fang could have helped was by standing still, thus rendering her experiment useless.

    Morana was about to try another command when something dark appeared in the distant sky. She couldn¡¯t make out much at this distance, but it looked a great deal like a demon and it was approaching fast. With the corruption from the crystal overwhelming her senses she couldn¡¯t tell how powerful it was, but even a weak demon wasn¡¯t something she wanted to handle on her own.

    As she watched a second and third figure appeared in the air beside the first. A minute later she counted ten demons flying toward her. That was enough for Morana. She ordered Fang and Eye to guard the cave entrance and ran inside to find Connor.

    She reached the portal chamber just in time to watch a burst of soul force fire into the portal and forks of black lightning come out and strike a pair of constructs that resembled shoulder-high wolves. Connor stood bent at the waist and gasping for air.

    Morana doubted he¡¯d be thrilled that she¡¯d seen him in such a weakened state, but there was nothing to be done about it. ¡°Connor.¡±

    He spun to face her, straightening as he moved. ¡°I told you to guard the entrance.¡±

    ¡°About that. There are at least ten demons flying this way in a hurry. While I don¡¯t underestimate my new powers, that¡¯s a little much for me to handle.¡±

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.¡°Ten?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°At least.¡±

    Connor grimaced. ¡°Let¡¯s go see.¡±

    They flew down to the cave, constructs converging on the opening. A few seconds after they landed a dozen of the creatures had gathered behind them. Connor stepped out onto the gray sand. About a hundred yards from the cave a line of twenty demons stood waiting. Morana didn¡¯t know a great deal about demons, but that struck her as odd behavior.

    ¡°Connor?¡±

    ¡°They want to talk.¡±

    ¡°How can you be sure?¡±

    ¡°Because they¡¯re not trying to kill us. Let¡¯s not keep them waiting.¡±

    They could have waited until hell froze over for all Morana cared, but she walked along beside Connor like she was confident they weren¡¯t about to be rent to pieces. Even with the constructs and their combined power twenty demons was a lot.

    Connor stopped ten feet from the center of their line. One of the demons, a massive creature fully nine feet tall and five feet across the shoulders, stepped in front of the group. It had bat wings, the head of a praying mantis, and shiny black plates covering every inch of its body. Morana could feel its power now and she shivered. It nearly matched Connor all by itself.

    Her master showed no sign of concern as he bowed to the monster. ¡°Welcome. I am Connor Blackman, a humble servant of the Horned One. How may I help you?¡±

    ¡°We have felt your conjuring and wished to discover what was happening.¡± The lead demon¡¯s voice whined like a high-pitched vibration. It hurt Morana¡¯s ears to listen. ¡°Little enough happens out in this wasteland. You roused our curiosity.¡±

    Connor briefly explained his intentions, speaking calmly for all the world like the demon standing before him was just another person. ¡°If you would like to join my army I¡¯d be honored to have you. We have no flying troops so your help would be a great boon.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re ambitious, mortal, I grant you that. We swore to never again be bound in the service of a master, but when you attack I and any of my companions that wish it will fight your enemies.¡± The massive demon flexed hands bearing six-inch talons. ¡°It has been far too long since I have torn flesh and feasted on blood.¡±

    ¡°I thank you. I assure you if you fight beside my army there will be plenty of tearing and feasting to enjoy. Will you join us here? There¡¯s plenty of space in the cavern.¡±

    ¡°No. We are flyers and don¡¯t care for closed spaces. Never fear, little warlock, we will be close by.¡±

    The demon leapt up, lashed its wings, and sent sand blowing every which way. Morana instinctively raised her arm to protect her eyes even though her personal shield kept out all the dust. When the sand finally settled there was no sign of the demons.

    She glanced at Connor and found him smiling. Morana had expected the monster¡¯s insults to have put him in a bad mood. ¡°Not very friendly, was he?¡±

    ¡°For a demon that was downright cordial,¡± Connor said. ¡°They don¡¯t understand the crystal¡¯s power which makes them hesitate to simply kill us. My confidence in the face of their superior numbers and power reinforced that hesitation. By offering them an outlet for their desire to destroy I provided the excuse they needed not to simply attack us.¡±

    ¡°How did you think of all that so quickly?¡± Morana stared at him with open awe.

    ¡°I¡¯ve dealt with enough demons to understand how they think. The more intelligent ones can, at times, be reasoned with. Nevertheless I¡¯ll be happy to have several hundred crystal soldiers at my side the next time I encounter our new allies.¡±

    Morana heartily seconded that plan.

 6.7

    It was so late when the reply from King¡¯s College arrived that Jen ended up spending the night at The Tower. It sounded like the old professor was out in the field exploring a recently discovered ruin. The administrators had provided a rough location and the Headmaster promised to assign someone to fly her there. That offer was enough to make up for any discomfort she might have felt at the sleeping arrangements.

    Ann had conjured her a bed in the conference room and provided linens. When Jen asked Mariela why she was allowed to have an actual room upstairs the scholar replied that since she worked with sorcerers so often they considered her an honorary member of the family. Not that Jen especially cared about her sleeping accommodations, she¡¯d slept far rougher than what the sorcerers provided. The Headmaster¡¯s discomfort at her situation amused her no end. He was like an innkeeper who ran out of rooms and was forced to put guests up in the stable.

    After a good night¡¯s sleep Jen left her makeshift bedroom, her pack slung over one shoulder, and crossed into the foyer. Ann was waiting with a plate of food which Jen gladly accepted. She¡¯d eaten most of it when the Headmaster emerged from the direction of his office with two women in tow.

    In the lead was a lean woman in her late twenties. Her cheeks were sunken in and she had fine wrinkles around her eyes that gave the impression of an older woman. Beside her was a young woman around Jen¡¯s age with bright red hair wearing an acid green dress.

    The younger woman brushed past the Headmaster and marched right up to Jen. ¡°You¡¯re Damien¡¯s sister. I¡¯m Amanda, we were yearmates. I¡¯ll do my best to help you find him then blow up whoever took him.¡±

    She thrust her hand at Jen who shook it. Her brother hadn¡¯t mentioned Amanda, at least not that Jen remembered. The woman was blunt, but she seemed to mean well.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take all the help I can get, thanks.¡±

    The older woman grabbed Amanda by the collar and yanked her back. ¡°Don¡¯t mind her. Amanda often leaps before she looks. I¡¯m Kat Gentul, her mentor. We¡¯re at your service for as long as you need us.¡±

    The Headmaster looked from Kat and Amanda to Jen then back again. ¡°I guess that takes care of the introductions. Kat can send updates to me and I¡¯ll pass them on to Lidia. If you need additional resources please don¡¯t hesitate to ask. Finding and recovering your brother and the other missing sorcerers is our highest priority.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± Jen bowed to the Headmaster. Even if he did think Damien was dead, at least he was making the effort to find out for certain. She turned to Kat. ¡°You know where we¡¯re headed?¡±

    Kat nodded. ¡°Approximately. Once we get close we should be able to sense his soul force.¡±

    ¡°And if we can¡¯t we could just burn down the forest until we spot the ruins.¡± Amanda smiled at the prospect in a way that made Jen question her sanity.

    Kat grabbed Amanda and forced the younger woman to meet her gaze. ¡°Remember what we discussed. You don¡¯t blast anything unless I say so, got it?¡±

    Amanda pouted for a moment then said, ¡°Fine. Can we go now?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± Jen said.

    Kat led them out into the empty courtyard. ¡°Good luck!¡± the Headmaster shouted after them.

    Kat conjured an oversized chariot that would easily fit all of them and Jen stepped aboard. It reminded her of the transport Master Shen used, only a bit smaller. When Amanda had joined them the chariot shot into the air and turned south and a little east.

    They hadn¡¯t gone far when the Great Green appeared below them. The huge forest soon covered everything for as far as they could see in every direction. How could anyone find anything down there? The trees grew so dense the ground only rarely appeared through the canopy. Jen tried to catch a glimpse through the gaps, but even with her enhanced senses all she made out was leaves.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    They reached the target area around midmorning and began circling. Everyone remained silent, straining with all their senses to detect some sign of the professor.

    After almost an hour of circling Amanda said, ¡°I sense something down there.¡± She pointed a little to the left of their current course.

    Kat looked in the direction her apprentice indicated then nodded. ¡°I do too, but I¡¯m not certain it¡¯s human.¡±

    Amanda frowned. ¡°I sense no corruption.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not a demon either. I¡¯m not certain what it is.¡±

    Jen had heard enough. ¡°Why don¡¯t we go down for a closer look? If it¡¯s the old man, great. If not we can keep searching.¡±

    Kat nodded and a golden dome formed over the chariot as they descended toward the trees. The chariot crashed through the canopy, sending branches falling to the forest floor. It was a good thing they weren¡¯t trying to sneak up on anyone.

    Once they smashed through the canopy there was plenty of space between the massive hardwoods for them to land. ¡°There¡¯s the ruin,¡± Jen said.

    It really was a ruin too. Tumbled stone from what she guessed was once a crude fort lay scattered amongst the trees. The most intact bit of construction looked like a doorway. Since most of the building behind the opening had collapsed she couldn¡¯t imagine where it went. There was no one immediately visible and no sign of a camp. Jen wanted to call out for the professor, but didn¡¯t dare after Kat¡¯s mention of something nonhuman in the area.

    ¡°The soul force I sense is coming from over there.¡± Amanda pointed at the opening then walked toward it.

    Jen shrugged and followed along behind. When Amanda reached the doorway she conjured a ball of light and sent it through. ¡°There¡¯s an opening in the floor with a rope dangling down it.¡±

    Jen reached the opening and sure enough someone had tied off a knotted rope to a boulder that probably weighed three tons. She didn¡¯t know what the sorcerers sensed, but that rope was exactly the sort of thing a human explorer would have with him.

    ¡°Looks like the professor¡¯s here after all,¡± Jen said. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can find him.¡±

    Jen grabbed the rope and swung over the lip of what looked like an old trapdoor to the cellar. She climbed down hand over hand while the sorcerers floated along beside her providing light. When she¡¯d gone thirty knots down it became clear that this was no basement.

    ¡°Can you summon a little more light?¡± Jen asked.

    Amanda conjured a light that resembled an underground sun and sent it floating away. A massive cavern spread out around them for hundreds of yards in every direction. Jen shivered. It seemed her lot to spend her time crawling around underground. She finally spotted the floor about ten feet below. It had to be fifty feet back up the opening. She was impressed an old professor could manage the climb down, much less the climb back up.

    When they reached the floor Jen asked, ¡°Can you still sense whatever you sensed up above?¡±

    Amanda shook her head. ¡°I sense something, but it¡¯s not the same as before.¡±

    ¡°No, this is human for sure.¡± Kat turned to her right about thirty degrees. ¡°It¡¯s this way.¡±

    They walked along behind Kat across the smooth stone floor. They didn¡¯t light up the whole space, but here and there hints of tumbled buildings appeared in flashes. This felt a great deal like the ruined city under Port Valcane. It was too remote to be of any great use to the cult, but that didn¡¯t mean something else didn¡¯t live here.

    The three of them made their way through the darkness for half an hour before Kat stopped and directed her light globe up and off to one side. Hanging fifteen feet above them, an indistinct shape struggled in a crude net suspended from a mostly intact tower.

    ¡°Professor Dorius?¡± Jen asked.

    The trapped individual stopped struggling. ¡°That¡¯s right. Good to see a human face down here. Surprising, but good.¡±

    ¡°Hold still and we¡¯ll help you down.¡± Kat conjured a disk under the net and Amanda severed the rope holding him up. When he was free Kat lowered him to the ground. ¡°There you are.¡±

    Jen helped him free himself from the net. When the last restraint was gone Dorius stood up, brushed his khaki trousers off, and peered at them through filthy spectacles. He had white hair jutting out from under a broad-brimmed hat, a scruffy beard covering a deeply lined face, and a lean, muscular build. A long knife hung from his belt and he had a satchel over one shoulder.

    ¡°You three are certainly the most attractive rescuers I¡¯ve ever had. Thank you for your assistance. I assume the college sent you.¡±

    ¡°In a manner of speaking,¡± Jen said. ¡°They provided your location. We need your help on a very important matter.¡±

    ¡°Really? It''s been many years since I was asked to consult. Perhaps this isn''t the best place to discuss it.¡±

    Amanda popped up and spun around slowly. ¡°Master?¡±

    ¡°I sense them too. We¡¯ve got company.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± Professor Dorius said. ¡°I forgot to mention there are goblins in this ruin. I''ve been dodging the little buggers for a day and a half.¡±

    Jen drew her sword and peered into the darkness. ¡°You didn''t think to mention that in the beginning?¡±

    Shining eyes appeared in the darkness all around them. They were surrounded.

 6.8

    After Marie-Bell left for the guest room Kendy dug the king¡¯s message out of the waste bin. He was making a formal emergency declaration, placing the Order under the direct command of the eastern army. If King Andrew was going that far he must have been more worried about the situation than Marie-Bell indicated.

    She slammed her fist on the table, rattling the inkwell and making papers jump. No king had commanded them to direct service in over a hundred years. The three orders of paladins, while certainly under the king¡¯s authority, the same as any other citizens, were always treated as independent operations free to use their powers as they saw fit, as long as it was done in the best interest of the kingdom.

    As the commander of the largest and most organized order, Kendy chafed at the idea of being under anyone¡¯s direct command. She needed to resolve the matter before anyone actually arrived to assume control. If the paladins dealt with the problem in the haunted lands on their own, quietly, they could simply announce their success when it was done.

    Kendy closed her eyes and tapped the power resting inside her. Her mental summons went out to her three sub-commanders, nothing urgent, just that they should meet in her office when their current tasks permitted. If they dropped everything and ran to her it would rile everyone up and Marie-Bell would notice. Dealing with that girl would be the trickiest part of the mission. There was no way she¡¯d simply go along with Kendy¡¯s plan. She was too independent to blindly accept orders, curse her.

    It took two hours, but finally her lieutenants had assembled, two men and one woman. With four of them present the office felt close and uncomfortable. Kendy stood along with the others so they wouldn¡¯t feel like she was using her position to manipulate them.

    ¡°Commander, what¡¯s happening?¡± Captain Zane asked. He was twenty-five when he was chosen and had not aged a day since. He¡¯d served as Kendy¡¯s second for almost thirty years. Of the three she felt most confident that Zane would agree to anything she suggested.

    Captains Samantha and Harry leaned closer, eager to hear her answer. They¡¯d only been with her fifteen and seventeen years respectively, but both were loyal and eager for action. That combination would serve Kendy well.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it¡°There¡¯s trouble in the haunted lands. A warlock has set up shop and is getting on with who knows what. The king is sufficiently concerned that he¡¯s ordered us to join with the eastern army.¡±

    She let them mutter for a few seconds. ¡°I have an alternate proposal. I suggest we gather our forces, march out, and deal with the warlock ourselves. You all know we¡¯re the best suited to this task. The regular army would just get in our way. Once it¡¯s done we can present the villain¡¯s head to King Andrew as a gift.¡±

    ¡°Would it be a proper crusade?¡± Samantha asked. ¡°There hasn¡¯t been one in seventy years.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Harry said. ¡°We¡¯ve been lax in our duties. Cleansing the haunted lands is our reason for existing. I¡¯ve often thought it is a disgrace how defensive we¡¯ve become, no offense, Commander.¡±

    Kendy let her brief annoyance at the critique wash over her. ¡°None taken. I too have wished to be more proactive in our mission, however going out into the haunted lands isn¡¯t something to be done lightly or without a definite purpose. We now have both. I propose we gather our forces and march in two days.¡±

    ¡°Hear, hear.¡± Zane threw his fist in the air.

    The others raised their fists as well. When Kendy joined them that made it unanimous. Kendy smiled. They¡¯d show the capital that the paladins didn¡¯t need regular soldiers to help them complete their mission. She would lead the first crusade in their generation and wipe out the enemies of men plotting out in the wasteland.

    ¡°There is one other matter,¡± Kendy said.

    Zane cocked his head. ¡°Commander?¡±

    ¡°Marie-Bell has returned. She brought the king¡¯s message with her. I fear she will not go along with my orders. If she leaves and alerts the capital it would ruin everything. While it pains me I fear we will need to restrain her until we return from our mission.¡±

    Harry glowered at that. ¡°What do you propose? We can¡¯t just clap the girl in irons and we don¡¯t even have a dungeon to throw her in. Not to mention the fact that she hasn¡¯t done anything wrong.¡±

    ¡°Nothing wrong?¡± Kendy matched her subordinate¡¯s glower with a fierce scowl of her own. ¡°Since when is failing to obey your commander¡¯s orders nothing?¡±

    ¡°She declared herself a freelance and as far as I know hasn¡¯t asked to rejoin the Order. Since she¡¯s just acting as a messenger she isn¡¯t subject to our authority like a member would be.¡±

    ¡°She fled in the night,¡± Samantha said. ¡°At the very least some punishment is appropriate for that cowardly act. It¡¯ll only be until we return anyway. A few days, maybe a week of solitary meditation will do her good. Certainly it will do her no harm.¡±

    Harry grunted. ¡°Perhaps a few days wouldn¡¯t hurt her. I assume you¡¯re planning to use one of the penance chambers.¡±

    Kendy nodded. ¡°There¡¯s nowhere else we can keep her. I suggest we deal with Marie-Bell tonight so she can¡¯t interfere with our preparations.¡±

    Zane once more raised his fist. ¡°Seconded.¡±

    Samantha raised hers at once and Harry, reluctantly, added the final vote in favor.

 6.9

    Marie-Bell lay on the unfamiliar bed, in the dark, staring up at the unseen ceiling. The guest room was for visiting officials so it was far bigger than the little cell she used to sleep in when she served the commander. It felt strange having so much space all to herself. It also smelled stale and musty from disuse. The fortress didn¡¯t even have visitors annually, much less often enough to justify regular cleaning of the room.

    She sighed and rolled over on her side. Hopefully tomorrow Commander Kendy would have the information she needed and Marie-Bell could return to the capital and share the possible good news with Jen.

    It surprised Marie-Bell how quickly she¡¯d come to think of the warlord as a dear friend, especially considering how they¡¯d first met. While Marie-Bell didn¡¯t have a great deal of combat experience, she¡¯d been taught that paladins were the strongest warriors in the kingdom. The fact that even a strong warlord could not only go toe to toe with her, but put her on the defensive had shocked Marie-Bell and forced her to wonder what else she¡¯d taken as truth that actually wasn¡¯t. Watching Damien banish the demon had really driven her inexperience home. She had so much to learn and she wasn¡¯t going to do it here.

    A noise outside her door drew Marie-Bell¡¯s attention across the room just as the door burst open and four figures rushed in. She couldn¡¯t make out any detail, just dark silhouettes against the light coming through the door.

    How had enemies gotten inside the fortress?

    She scrambled for her hammer.

    White light burst from the intruders and bound her in place.

    Holy energy? Marie-Bell tried to call on her own power, but found the path blocked. Her heart raced and sweat broke out on her back under her shift.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.¡°What are you doing?¡± she asked, her thoughts going fuzzy.

    ¡°We¡¯ve decided you¡¯re to be punished for the means you chose to leave us,¡± Commander Kendy said. ¡°The vote was unanimous. Do not fear and please don¡¯t resist. Several days in the punishment chamber meditating on your mistakes will benefit you a great deal. Just relax.¡±

    Marie-Bell didn¡¯t relax. She fought the lethargy flooding her body with everything she had. Her efforts were in vain. Eyelids drooping, she flopped to the bed, conscious, but unable to move. Muddy thoughts tried to piece together what had been done to her, but she couldn¡¯t concentrate.

    She groaned when strong arms lifted her up. Vague, broken images of walls and ceiling, movement, bouncing down the hall.

    The light hurt her eyes. She tried to call for help, but no words emerged.

    Time passed, how long she couldn¡¯t say. Marie-Bell lay on a hard floor. Everywhere she looked was white tile engraved with holy symbols.

    Weak, wobbly arms tried to push herself up and after three tries succeeded. She rubbed still-blurry eyes. When she tried to draw on her power she ran into a barrier between her will and her core.

    Marie-Bell staggered to her feet and stumbled over to the wall. A thin line indicated the door¡¯s location. She pounded on it, feeble blows that wouldn¡¯t have broken glass much less the heavy, tile-covered door.

    She spun around and slumped down in front of the sealed door. Why had the commander locked her in here? She said it was punishment for leaving the fortress at night, but as far as Marie-Bell knew that wasn¡¯t an offense. She knew the commander didn¡¯t like her and resented the fact that she was chosen as a paladin in the first place, but Marie-Bell couldn¡¯t believe Commander Kendy would go so far as to punish her for following her convictions.

    As her mind cleared she realized where they¡¯d taken her: the punishment cell. Everyone in the fortress had heard of the chamber where paladins couldn¡¯t access their powers. The creators of the Order had built the room as a place where members they felt had fallen from the path of light could meditate on what it meant to lose their powers as that¡¯s what would happen if they didn¡¯t get back on the proper course.

    Marie-Bell didn¡¯t think she was on the wrong path, but that didn¡¯t matter. Once a paladin had been locked in the chamber the only way to escape was to be released from the outside. She just had to hope the commander came to her senses. At least the sorcery that prevented her from using her soul force also provided for her physical needs. Now she just had to hope she didn¡¯t go insane before they let her out.

 6.10

    Jen counted fifteen pairs of eyes shining in the darkness all around them. That many goblins could definitely pose a problem for a single old man, but for a warlord and two sorcerers it shouldn¡¯t take more than a minute to wipe them out. That was assuming Kat and Amanda had at least average skills.

    ¡°Can I blast them?¡± Amanda¡¯s hands crackled with soul force and she bounced from foot to foot like a kid that needed the outhouse.

    ¡°We can¡¯t even see them yet,¡± Kat said. ¡°Don¡¯t attack until you have a clear target. Maybe they just want to check us out. If we can avoid a fight that would be best.¡±

    Amanda groaned and Jen silently agreed with her. Goblins that weren¡¯t looking for a fight didn¡¯t exist, at least not in Jen¡¯s experience.

    ¡°If you could avoid damaging the ruins I would very much appreciate it,¡± Dorius said. ¡°This place is a treasure trove for a scholar.¡±

    ¡°More like a death trap,¡± Jen muttered.

    A twisted, hunched over, gray-skinned creature stepped into the light. It didn¡¯t look like any goblin Jen had ever seen. The ones she was used to tended to be green and shorter. If this one straightened up it would be near six feet tall. The goblin wore only a loincloth made from the uncured hide of some small animal and carried no weapons. It hissed and raised a misshapen hand sporting three-inch claws to shade its eyes. Jen didn¡¯t wait for it to get used to the light or decide to attack.

    She lunged and slashed, not bothering with acceleration. The light-dazzled goblin twisted away, avoiding her attack.

    Jen spun, expecting to take its head off with a backhand slash.

    It ducked the blow and darted toward her, taloned hands leading.

    She pumped soul force through her body and sprinted clear, inches ahead of the monster¡¯s talons. She skidded to a halt, reversed course, and drove her blade through the goblin¡¯s chest. It let out a gurgling hiss and grabbed her blade with surprising strength.

    An explosion behind her indicated the sorcerers had engaged the other monsters. A second goblin lunged at her out of the dark.

    Jen gave a harder yank and her sword came free along with all the dying goblin¡¯s fingers. She met the new threat at warlord speed.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.It ducked her high slash and leapt over a back cut that should have taken its legs off at the knee. How could it keep up with her? She was moving at least three times as fast as a normal person and her opponent didn¡¯t appear to be using any physical enhancements.

    She drew deeper from her core. If it could keep up with warlord speed she would see if it could match lightning speed. Using the technique that made her father a legend Jen went to double warlord speed.

    In an instant it appeared that the goblin simply fell apart. Legs went one way, arms another, and its head a third.

    Jen¡¯s heart raced and her body trembled. Lightning speed took a lot out of her. No new enemies immediately appeared so she took a moment to study the battle. Kat and Amanda stood on either side of Dorius, golden light shimmering around them.

    A dozen goblins surrounded their little group. Two of the goblins rushed in and clawed at the barrier. Jen¡¯s eyebrows shot up when scratch marks appeared in the smooth energy field.

    A small hole opened in the barrier and Amanda fired an arrow of golden energy through it. The goblin she¡¯d aimed at dropped flat and the blast flew over its head without causing any damage.

    The arrow changed direction and plunged down at the prone goblin. This time it struck the creature square in the chest. It shrieked and leapt to its feet, pained but clearly not seriously injured.

    Jen¡¯s gaze darted around. There should be one more around here somewhere. She spotted its eyes in the dark, watching the battle. Since when did goblins watch anything? All Jen had ever seen the stupid things do was charge into battle, counting on numbers to carry the day. Everything about this felt wrong.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Jen shouted. When Kat looked her way she pointed toward the hiding goblin. ¡°Light!¡±

    Kat obliged, sending a golden sphere streaking toward the watching goblin. Jen followed it at warlord speed.

    The waiting monster was a head taller than the others. It met her charge and struck her blow aside with the back of its hand. Hard, dark scales covered it from knuckles to shoulder and ankles to groin. Its chest was broad and deep with massive muscles that rippled when it moved. It smiled, revealing a mouthful of needle-sharp fangs.

    Jen attacked with a flurry of blows at warlord speed. It met every attack with an arm or raised leg. Despite her strength, speed, and razor-edged steel, Jen couldn¡¯t draw so much as a drop of blood. She narrowly dodged a counter that might have disemboweled her.

    Another explosion rocked the cavern. She hated to use lightning speed again, but there was little choice. She drew deep once more. The instant she did the goblin leapt away. It clung to the side of a tower, clambering up it like a spider. Had it known what she was about to do?

    It let out a shrill, high-pitched whistle. The surviving goblins faded away into the darkness. When Kat and Amanda sent out spheres of light there was no sign of them.

    Jen walked over to the others, but didn¡¯t sheathe her sword. ¡°What the hell were those things? No way were they goblins.¡±

    All eyes turned to Professor Dorius. He cleared his throat. ¡°I have a theory. In all honesty I have no idea exactly what they are, but at one point they were goblins. Perhaps talking about this out in the open isn¡¯t the best idea.¡±

    He looked over Jen¡¯s shoulder prompting her to glance back. Golden eyes flashed in the darkness. Suddenly getting somewhere with sturdy walls struck her as an excellent idea.

 6.11

    ¡°It¡¯s not fair.¡± Amanda¡¯s whiny voice cut through the remains of a stone house they¡¯d holed up in. Jen knew how she felt. She¡¯d never heard of a goblin capable of keeping up with a warlord or shrugging off a sorcerer¡¯s blast like it was nothing more than an inconvenience. She glanced out the opening through the shimmering field Kat had raised to keep their pursuers at bay. Golden eyes blinked back at her. If there was one out there, the rest probably weren¡¯t far away.

    ¡°So let¡¯s hear this theory,¡± Jen said.

    The professor sat up straight. ¡°I believe they¡¯re modified goblins. Improvements over the original creatures.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°I may have accidentally freed them from some sort of holding field when I was poking around a half-collapsed citadel three days ago.¡±

    ¡°You let those things out?¡± Kat leaned forward like she wanted to punch the old man and Jen didn¡¯t blame her. Unfortunately they needed him intact until he told them about The Harvest.

    ¡°As I said, it was an accident. Things happen when you¡¯re doing fieldwork. You need to learn to roll with the punches.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you something to roll with.¡± Amanda lunged at him, but Jen caught her before she reached the professor.

    ¡°Easy.¡± Jen eased the short-tempered sorcerer back into her place. ¡°What altered them and how do we either kill them or escape?¡±

    ¡°As to what altered them I¡¯m not entirely certain. The builders of these ruins certainly, but who or what they were I have yet to find definitive evidence. I believe the shapers¡ªthat¡¯s the name I gave the unknown individuals, catchy isn¡¯t it? Anyway, I believe the shapers used a combination of sorcery and demon blood to strengthen and alter the appearance of those goblins to create a more useful class of servant or soldier.¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t demon blooded,¡± Kat said.

    Dorius drew himself up to his less-than-intimidating height so he appeared to be looking down his nose at her despite sitting on the ground. ¡°How would you know?¡±

    Kat shrugged. ¡°No aura of corruption. If they had even a drop of demon blood in them I¡¯d sense it. I don¡¯t know what they are. They don¡¯t even have a core, their soul force is evenly distributed through their bodies. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. That¡¯s what makes them so hard to sense, the power is diffused, like a sorcerer using invisibility.¡±

    The professor¡¯s mouth dropped open. ¡°But, but, then how? If demon blood wasn¡¯t the catalyst and certainly angel blood wouldn¡¯t result in such monstrosities, what did they use?¡±

    Kat shrugged again. ¡°Don¡¯t know. Like I said, I¡¯ve never felt anything like those things.¡±

    Dorius held his head in his hands and rocked back and forth. ¡°I was so sure. I¡¯ll have to rewrite my paper from scratch,¡± he muttered.

    ¡°Professor!¡±

    Jen¡¯s shout shook him out of whatever funk he¡¯d fallen into. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my dear. Learning years of work has just fallen to pieces overwhelmed me for a moment. I¡¯m fine now.¡±

    ¡°Good, because we¡¯ve got a dozen nasties out there and you¡¯re the only one that has any experience with them or familiarity with the area,¡± Jen said. ¡°We¡¯ll be relying heavily on you to get us out of this alive.¡±

    He puffed himself up. ¡°Of course. You ladies may depend on me.¡±

    Amanda groaned. ¡°We¡¯re doomed.¡±

    Kat swatted her shoulder. ¡°Quiet.¡±

    ¡°Are there any other exits?¡± Jen asked.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t found any.¡± Professor Dorius¡¯s forehead crinkled as he thought. ¡°But I¡¯ve only been here five days, so who can say for sure?¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t we just fly out of here?¡± Kat said. ¡°Those things didn¡¯t have wings.¡±

    ¡°I thought about that,¡± Jen said. ¡°But if we leave them alive and there¡¯s another exit, even if we seal the one we found, those things might still escape. I know we¡¯re a long way from civilization, but eventually they¡¯ll find a village or caravan and when they do a lot of people will die. We either need to seal every exit or figure out how to kill them all.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s blast them from the air.¡± Amanda bounced to her feet. ¡°It¡¯ll be good target practice.¡±

    ¡°How much did you hold back when you hit that one earlier?¡± Jen asked.

    Amanda frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I used the same amount of power I generally do. I try not to use too much soul force in any one blast as it will drain my core too quickly. Why?¡±

    ¡°Your regular blast didn¡¯t do much more than annoy the one you hit,¡± Kat said. ¡°If we try to blast them from above we¡¯ll have to use way stronger attacks than normal.¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°So they¡¯re fast enough to dodge my attacks at warlord speed,¡± Jen said. ¡°I doubt you could hit one of them from any sort of long range. We either need a trap or to kill them up close.¡±

    ¡°A trap you say.¡± Dorius chewed his lip. ¡°I came across a pit a couple days ago, maybe twenty feet deep. Would that suffice?¡±

    ¡°It might.¡± Jen was cut off by a screech followed by enraged screams.

    Three goblins raced across the path and began scratching at the barrier. Their claws slowly cut through the soul force wall.

    Everyone leapt to their feet. It wouldn¡¯t take a minute for them to open it up enough to get through.

    Jen thrust her sword through one of the gaps they¡¯d cut in the barrier. She nicked one of the monsters, but it avoided a lethal blow.

    ¡°Should I reinforce it?¡± Kat asked.

    ¡°For a second anyway.¡± Jen turned to Dorius. ¡°Where¡¯s this pit?¡±

    ¡°About half a mile back toward the entrance. I can guide you.¡±

    ¡°Good. Can you two scoop the goblins up and carry them that far?¡± Jen had to raise her voice to be heard over the goblins¡¯ screams and the scrambling of their claws.

    ¡°I think so,¡± Kat said. ¡°What do you have in mind?¡±

    ¡°You dump them in the pit and I¡¯ll cut them down as they try to climb out. If they¡¯re smart enough to not try and climb out we drop boulders on them until they¡¯re nothing but bloody smears.¡±

    Amanda grinned. ¡°I like this plan.¡±

    Kat nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll handle the primary containment, you plug any holes they make. Okay?¡±

    ¡°Got it. But how will we convince the rest of them to show themselves?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll draw them out,¡± Jen said. ¡°Be ready to act as soon as they all show themselves.¡±

    ¡°We will,¡± Kat said.

    ¡°Open a gap on my mark.¡± Jen drew deep from her core and sent soul force through her body. ¡°Now!¡±

    The instant an opening appeared in the golden barrier she shot out at lightning speed, screeching goblins on her heels. Jen slowed to warlord speed and set to work playing with her opponents.

    She ducked and dodged, avoiding openings that would leave her exposed to an attack from one of the other goblins. With her accelerated senses she had no trouble telling when the other goblins joined the fun.

    Soon she was dancing around eleven of the ugly brutes. Where was the leader? As she spun and ducked her gaze darted all around the area. There was no sign of him. She couldn¡¯t keep this up much longer.

    Damn it! They¡¯d just have to hunt the leader down after they handled the others. ¡°Now!¡±

    Golden bubbles appeared around each goblin and dragged them together into a single large container. Immediately the captive goblins scratched and tore holes in the field. Amanda reinforced the gaps, but at this rate they didn¡¯t have much time.

    ¡°Dorius! Let¡¯s go,¡± Jen said.

    ¡°Right.¡± The old man emerged from the shelter and set off at a brisk walk back the way they¡¯d come.

    Jen ground her teeth. They¡¯d never make it at this pace.

    Amanda must have realized it as well. A disk appeared at her feet. ¡°Everybody on.¡±

    She guided the construct through the ruins as the professor indicated. Both sorcerers were sweating like they were running a marathon.

    Come on, come on.

    If they didn¡¯t hurry the sorcerers would pass out before they reached the pit.

    ¡°There it is.¡± Dorius pointed.

    Jen spotted the deep hole he¡¯d mentioned. It was about ten feet across with vertical sides. Perfect.

    The sorcerers guided the writhing, goblin-filled sphere over the pit and let it vanish. Wailing monsters rained down into the hole.

    Jen leapt off the transport and took up position at the edge of the pit. If these ones climbed anything like the big one she was going to be busy. Behind her the sorcerers slumped to the ground. Transporting the goblins must have completely exhausted them.

    Movement caught her eye. The goblin leader stepped out of the shadows of a tumbled-down structure. It focused shining yellow eyes on her.

    Uh-oh.

    How was she going to deal with the trapped goblins and the leader at the same time?

    Jen glanced back. Both sorcerers had their heads between their knees sucking air. No help to be found from that quarter.

    She was on her own.

 6.12

    Commander Kendy looked over her assembled troops. One hundred and twenty paladins and seventy initiates in perfect, gleaming mail. Their weapons were honed to a razor edge and polished to mirror shines. White tabards with the stylized fortress centered on their chests fluttered in the faint breeze. The sight filled her with pride.

    The excitement of a new crusade was palpable. With such great motivation her troops had prepared for battle in record time. Just under a day had passed since she gave the order.

    They had gathered just inside the final gate leading to the haunted lands. The sixty-foot-tall outer wall loomed over them, casting a shadow over the gathering. Kendy refused to take it as an ill omen. These noble warriors would set out with her at their head and smite the evil growing like a tumor on the world. With such a fine and noble purpose how could they fail?

    Some of the younger members fidgeted, eager to get underway, but the veterans stood stock still, like statues. These men and women had hard eyes and the scars of past battles. They knew some wouldn¡¯t be returning covered in glory, but on shields carried by their comrades. That was an unfortunate truth in any war.

    Kendy drew her sword and thrust it into the air. The blade burned with white fire. The assembled paladins raised a cheer.

    ¡°Friends and comrades,¡± she said. ¡°We prepare to march for a glorious cause. Not for pleasure or gain, but to secure the safety of the kingdom and the innocents under threat. It is our sacred duty and we will not shirk it.¡±

    Another cheer went up. Whatever she might say they all understood that success would bring great honor and fame to everyone involved. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t appropriate for holy warriors to think of such mundane concerns, but they were still human and the quest for acknowledgment existed in everyone.

    When they quieted Kendy continued. ¡°This will not be an easy fight, but I trust everyone here to do their best. And if you do that we can¡¯t fail.¡±

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.Another cheer.

    Kendy conjured a white horse and swung up on its back. They¡¯d fly most of the way before landing and approaching the enemy on foot. The energy required to maintain a mount might be the power you needed to survive the battle. The initiates climbed up behind the strongest paladins who would both carry them to the battlefield and protect them from the negative effects of the haunted lands.

    She¡¯d considered leaving those who hadn¡¯t been chosen behind, but in the end decided to take them. The battle would be good experience for the young warriors. Hopefully when they returned a holy one would consider them worthy and a new generation of paladins would rise from the glory of this crusade. That was Kendy¡¯s most devout hope as she flew over the wall at the head of her troops.

    Kendy gasped as the evil of the haunted lands washed over her. It had been six years since she last entered the wastes. That time was to wipe out a band of ghouls that wandered too close to the fortress. She hadn¡¯t been deep into the lifeless emptiness in thirty years and that scouting mission had resulted in five slain demons to only one fallen brother. A good day¡¯s work by any measure.

    She felt the new evil pulsing to the north like a rotten tooth. They would yank that tooth out before it poisoned the body. She smiled like an initiate even though she knew the darkness they faced. This was what it meant to be a paladin. To fly out and destroy evil wherever it hid. Perhaps that was why she so disliked Marie-Bell: the girl had the courage to go out in the world while Kendy dared only to do her duty and protect the fortress.

    The commander gritted her teeth. No, if everyone did whatever they wanted no one would protect the pass and demons and undead could enter the kingdom at will. The loss of one paladin was a nuisance, but if others followed her example it would be a disaster. When news of Kendy¡¯s victory spread they¡¯d have more initiates than they knew what to do with. The Order¡¯s future would be secure.

    ¡°Commander.¡± Zane drew her out of her musing. ¡°Look.¡±

    He pointed ahead of them. Demons had risen from the ground and were flying to meet the paladins. Kendy counted twenty. She couldn¡¯t determine just how strong they were from this distance, but the paladins had the advantage of numbers. Pity they couldn¡¯t fight on the ground like she originally wanted to.

    ¡°Have everyone carrying an initiate land and advance on foot. The rest of us will deal with the flying demons. Zane, you¡¯re in command of the ground force.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡± Though he didn¡¯t sound thrilled, Zane began barking orders and directing his forces to land.

    Kendy drew her sword and leveled it at the approaching demons. ¡°Charge!¡±

    Fifty of her strongest paladins rushed towards the enemy at her heels. Time to slaughter some demons.

 6.13

    Jen eyed the oversized goblin across the pit. It stared back, making no move to attack. She tightened her grip on her sword. For once she didn¡¯t mind waiting. The longer it took the more chance her allies would have to recover and lend a hand.

    A goblin head appeared over the lip of the pit. Jen rushed forward and swung. The creature fell back before her sword could connect.

    She looked up and found the leader ten feet away and closing fast. She rushed to meet it.

    Sword met claw and despite her enhanced strength Jen couldn¡¯t force it back. Though she wanted to conserve energy for the long fight, she couldn¡¯t win like this.

    When a clawed hand appeared on the lip of the pit Jen abandoned all caution and tapped her full power. The goblin leader went flying one way and Jen ran the other, severing the claw and sending the goblin tumbling back down.

    She spun back in time to see the leader back on its feet. Jen raced toward it at lightning speed.

    Even at her maximum speed it managed to leap clear of her slash. It clung to the side of a half-ruined tower.

    Jen leapt after it. Her sword cut a gash in the stone, missing the leader by inches.

    The goblin fell back to the ground.

    Jen followed, always seeming half a step behind no matter how fast she moved. She had to accelerate beyond lightning speed. Surpass her father.

    She shifted power from her iron skin to her legs. The world blurred even further as she raced toward her opponent.

    It raised a scaled arm.

    Her sword struck. Somehow it stopped the blow without losing its arm.

    In the instant she was stopped it countered, cutting four shallow groves in her abdomen. Jen winced and wrenched her sword free of its scales.

    She¡¯d made a crease, but it didn¡¯t look serious. Blood soaked her shirt, but she didn¡¯t dare use a drop of power on healing. She was barely holding her own as it was.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Movement caught her eye. Jen darted over and beheaded a goblin that had almost cleared the rim of the pit.

    The leader screamed. Did it actually care about its minions? That would certainly be unusual.

    It charged her again. Jen raced to meet it. In a blinding exchange sword and claw came together. She dodged and slashed, it blocked with armored forearms, clawed and kicked at her.

    Neither could land a decisive blow. Jen¡¯s soul force was getting dangerously low and her opponent showed no sign of slowing.

    A shimmer in the darkness caught her eye as a lid formed on the pit. Jen risked a glance back. Kat and Amanda were sitting up. Amanda gave her a thumbs up.

    Jen grinned. Now that she didn¡¯t have to divide her focus she¡¯d see just how good the monster was.

    They came together. Openings appeared before Jen¡¯s eyes that she hadn¡¯t noticed before. She nicked its cheek, sliced off an ear, and gashed its inner thigh where the scales stopped.

    It leapt away. Jen thought she saw fear in it for the first time.

    She gave it no chance to recover. The tip of her sword darted in and out like a mongoose. Blood appeared everywhere there wasn¡¯t scales.

    Narrow yellow eyes now stared at her wide and scared.

    That¡¯s right, you son of a bitch, you¡¯d better be scared.

    Jen thrust at its throat. It dodged, but she adjusted the tip of her sword at the last second. Her sword went into its eye and burst out the back of its head.

    She hurled the corpse aside and fell to her knees, totally drained.

    ¡°Are you okay, young lady?¡± Professor Dorius helped her wobble to her feet.

    ¡°Fine. Just need to catch my breath.¡±

    He nodded, clearly not believing a word she said. He was wise not to. Her legs barely held her up and her sword felt like it weighed twenty pounds. Perhaps this was why her father never went beyond lightning speed. The aftereffects were brutal.

    The professor guided her to a flat rock where she sat, grateful to be off her feet. Kat came over and healed the wounds on her stomach.

    ¡°That was foolish, taking power from your defense,¡± Kat said.

    ¡°Yeah, but it worked. I doubt I¡¯d have beaten that thing otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Master?¡± Amanda¡¯s voice held a note of concern.

    Behind Kat, Jen spotted a goblin trying to force its way through the lid. ¡°I¡¯ll be okay. Deal with those goblins before they escape.¡±

    Dealing with them was a simple if brutal process. While Amanda maintained the barrier around the lip of the pit, Kat used a six-foot chunk of fallen stalactite like a battering ram. The pointed end went up and down over and over. Jen stopped counting after twenty impacts.

    When nothing remained moving in the pit the four of them hastened away. No one wanted to remain near the bloody opening.

 6.14

    Professor Dorius led them through the maze-like ruin to an intact stone shed where he¡¯d set up his basecamp. It was a simple, square building, the roof long gone. Dorius had tied a tarp over the opening, leaving a gap for smoke to escape. There was no wood underground so they had to cook over a special oil lantern designed to heat a single cooking vessel.

    It was a snug fit for four of them, but Jen didn¡¯t care. All that mattered to her was she had a soft place to sit, a pot of food was on the fire, and nothing wanted to kill them at the moment. For those small mercies she would have traded all the coin she¡¯d saved since graduation.

    While Kat tended the stew, Amanda leaned against the shed wall, half asleep. Dorius held his hands out to the lantern then rubbed them together. He sighed. ¡°Nothing like a nice fire after a bit of excitement. Sorry I don¡¯t have any wood for a real campfire.¡±

    Jen shook her head at his good cheer. Either he didn¡¯t understand how close they¡¯d been to dying or he was choosing to ignore it.

    ¡°So what exactly brought you ladies down here to find me? Something about a consultation?¡±

    Jen couldn¡¯t help but marvel as the old man cleaned his glasses and spoke like they were sitting in his office back at King¡¯s College rather than huddling in a stone shed in the middle of an underground ruin. ¡°Eccentric¡± seemed a more than fair description of him.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Jen said. ¡°Mariela told us you could help figure out more of the Cult of the Horned One¡¯s intentions. We discovered information discussing an event called The Harvest and that it somehow relates to the haunted lands. Anything you can add would be a great help.¡±

    ¡°The Harvest certainly relates to the haunted lands. In fact it created them. The mad king sacrificed all life on the eastern side of the continent, harvesting it for the Horned One. That is the single largest mass sacrifice ever recorded. Our best estimate indicates twenty million people lost their lives in five minutes.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s mercy,¡± Kat muttered. ¡°How could anyone do something so horrible?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not even the worst part. Alexious wanted to sacrifice the entire continent, but was forced to activate the ritual before he could subdue the primitive tribes on the western side of the mountains. Now any time a large sacrifice is planned by a demon cult they call it a harvest. Though the largest ever documented after the mad king¡¯s was still under five hundred.¡±

    ¡°If King Alexious is Connor¡¯s idol then it stands to reason he¡¯ll want to finish his work, harvesting the western half of the continent,¡± Jen said.

    ¡°That¡¯s the kingdom!¡± Amanda sat up from where she¡¯d been dozing.

    ¡°No need to get too excited,¡± Dorius said. ¡°King Alexious spent over a century constructing pyramids to help focus the ritual. I can¡¯t imagine the king would let this Connor person build a handful of massive structures without opposing him. And without a focusing system the ritual can¡¯t be completed.¡±

    Jen frowned as she thought. If the professor was correct then what did Connor have in mind? And more importantly to Jen, what did he need her brother and the other sorcerers for? ¡°So there¡¯s no way he can perform the same ritual?¡±

    Dorius chuckled. ¡°Not without conquering the kingdom first. And he¡¯d need a powerful army indeed to do that.¡±

    Jen gasped. ¡°Like an army of demons? How many do you think are wandering the haunted lands? If Connor could harness the sorcerers¡¯ power and subjugate the demons of the wastes that would give him one hell of a start at building an army.¡±

    Dorius stared at her. ¡°No one knows how many monsters are in the haunted lands. Anyone stupid enough to try and explore them ends up never heard from again. That¡¯s why I turned my research toward these ancient ruins from demonology. Up until I found those mutated goblins it was much safer.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Kat said. ¡°Connor couldn¡¯t just use the others¡¯ power on his own. He¡¯d need some way to gather and control it. I¡¯ve never heard of an artifact capable of doing that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d never heard of a goblin with black scales capable of fighting a warlord to a draw before,¡± Jen said. ¡°But that didn¡¯t mean one didn¡¯t exist. We need to alert the king and archmage then head over to the paladins¡¯ fortress. They need to be told of the possible invasion.¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t known for welcoming outsiders,¡± Kat said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I have a friend that will vouch for us.¡± Whether anyone would listen to Marie-Bell Jen had no idea.

 6.15

    Lidia Thorn sat at her cluttered desk and stared at a report from an inquisitor detailing the status of the border barons following the events of last winter. She¡¯d been staring at it for half an hour and still had no idea what it said. She tossed it on the pile for later.

    Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she¡¯d skipped breakfast again. She glanced at her closed door half expecting Damien to walk through with a sandwich for her. Of course, he didn¡¯t. Her apprentice was missing and she knew by many presumed dead. Lidia didn¡¯t include herself amongst that group. That boy was too strong and too tough to count him out. Until she saw a body, Lidia would assume he was alive and do everything in her power to find him.

    Which wasn¡¯t much as it turned out. Her responsibilities kept her in the capital and even if she went looking Lidia had no idea where to start. All she could do was hope and trust Jennifer to figure out where he¡¯d been taken. And when she did, heaven help whoever had Damien. Lidia would bring all the power of the Crimson Legion down on their heads.

    Lidia sensed a message from Thomas approaching and willed the door open. A moment later a scroll held in the beak of a raven construct flew in and landed on her desk. The raven vanished, leaving the scroll behind. It must have been important if Thomas sent a full scroll.

    She unrolled it and started to read. She paused halfway through and began again, certain she¡¯d misunderstood. The information didn¡¯t change the second time through. According to Kat, a demon invasion from the haunted lands appeared not only possible but likely. The theory they¡¯d developed after speaking to a Professor Dorius, an expert on demonology, sounded crazy to Lidia. She¡¯d never heard of an artifact that could store and redirect soul force. That said, she also couldn¡¯t deny that such an artifact might exist. It sounded similar enough to the power of the urns that she didn¡¯t dare discount it completely.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Lidia rolled the scroll up and headed to the royal apartment. The king had indicated that he was taking the day to rest and had scheduled no meetings. She hated to bother him, the poor man had been working himself day and night, but this wasn¡¯t the sort of decision she dared to make on her own.

    As she made her way through the back halls to the residence, servants eyed her with nervous looks. Everyone sensed the tension that had filled the castle these past few days even if they didn¡¯t know exactly what was happening. Lidia ignored them all and picked up her pace.

    She knocked on the apartment door and after a brief wait Karrie opened it. She started, obviously not expecting to find Lidia there. ¡°Archmage. Is everything okay? Is it about Damien?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Is your father free?¡±

    ¡°Yes, please come in.¡± Karrie opened the door the rest of the way and Lidia stepped into the apartment.

    The king must have heard them talking as he emerged from deeper in the suite. ¡°Lidia, what is it?¡±

    She glanced at Karrie and raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°It¡¯s all right. She needs to learn the threats that face the kingdom and now¡¯s as good a time as any.¡±

    ¡°As you wish, Your Majesty.¡± Lidia proceeded to lay out everything her agents had learned so far. When she finished she said, ¡°We need to decide how seriously we wish to treat this potential threat.¡±

    ¡°A possible demon invasion is about as serious as it gets. I¡¯ve already mobilized the eastern army and ordered them to relocate closer to the pass. I suppose we could order the northern and southern armies to send their nearest divisions to assist, but it will take weeks for them to arrive and we may leave ourselves open to trouble elsewhere.¡±

    ¡°True, but if this is bigger than we think trouble elsewhere may not matter. With your permission I¡¯d like to take half the legion along with another twenty inquisitors east to reinforce High Sorcerer Zahara and her team. If you approve I¡¯ll need two or three days to gather everyone and fly out.¡±

    The king nodded. ¡°Do it. I¡¯ll feel better knowing you¡¯re overseeing things. But please be careful. I¡¯d hate for anything to happen to you.¡±

 6.16

    Holy power flooded through Kendy as she sped across the sky on her conjured mount. The demons were close enough now that she could make out their various forms. They were as motley an assortment of horrors as you could hope to find. The largest and closest had the head of an insect and its body was covered with black plates. Corrupt power burst from it in almost visible waves.

    It was strong, perhaps as strong of an opponent as she¡¯d ever faced. The creatures on either side of it were the typical collection of monsters: goblins and the like, transformed into more suitable hosts by their demonic occupants.

    Kendy grinned. It would be a glorious battle.

    Hellfire burst from the hands and mouths of the demons. Kendy shaped her power into a white shield and her companions did the same all down the line.

    Black flames broke on the glowing barrier like waves on a cliff. The initial clash was a draw.

    The two sides came together with a mighty crash. Kendy met the bug-headed leader at the center of the melee. No other demon approached and the paladins were too busy fighting their own battles to lend her a hand.

    Kendy wouldn¡¯t have had it any other way.

    She leveled her sword and searing white light streaked out at the demon. It lashed its wings and her blast flew under it.

    Its counter blast of hellfire splashed over her shield without penetrating.

    Paladin and demon chased each other through the sky, exchanging blasts, neither making a dent in their opponent¡¯s defenses. Kendy¡¯s frustration grew. The demon was too fast for her to hit with a ranged attack. She needed to close and attack directly.

    She willed her mount to turn and charge the demon. It appeared as eager for hand to hand combat as she was. Six-inch talons had sprouted from its fingertips and curved, chitinous blades sprouted from its forearms.

    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.They came together. Her sword swooped in toward its neck.

    The demon batted her blade aside with one hand and countered with the other. It shredded her barrier, but the holy energy slowed its attack enough for her to lean back out of the way.

    How could anything that big be so fast?

    All around her shouts of pain mingled with snarls and shrieks. She wished she had a spare moment to check on her people.

    She blocked two more swipes, just as fast as the one that almost gutted her. Her arm was growing weak. Her power couldn¡¯t be running out already. The battle had only just begun.

    Kendy slashed again. The power behind it was feeble.

    The demon caught her sword on the curved blades covering its forearms and ripped it from her grasp. Kendy stared as her weapon tumbled to the gray sand.

    She willed her mount to dive. An instant later she screamed as talons ripped through her mail and plucked her from the back of her white horse. Kendy struggled, but the demon¡¯s grip was like iron. Her remaining strength leaked out along with her blood.

    A high-pitched whine filled the air. It took her a moment to realize it was the demon¡¯s laughter. ¡°Stupid human. This place drains your strength and feeds mine. You should have stayed in your castle and cut your own throat. It would have been less painful.¡±

    Kendy spit at it. A minor, pointless act of defiance, but all she could manage. It ignored the saliva running down the shiny plates covering its chest and spun around, forcing her to watch the rest of the battle.

    She could have cried, but refused to give the monster the satisfaction. How had her glorious battle come to this? Her comrades were being slaughtered one after another. A pair of demons that resembled wild boars grabbed Harry and tore him in half.

    Another that had certainly been a goblin at some point ripped the head off a young woman who¡¯d received her holy spirit less than a year ago. Kendy focused through the blinding pain in her shoulder and counted. Seventeen demons remained. At least they¡¯d managed to kill three.

    Fifty paladins and they¡¯d killed three demons. She¡¯d go down in infamy as the worst commander of the fortress in history, assuming the kingdom had a future in which to remember her fatal error.

    ¡°Just kill me and have it over with,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh no, that would be far too generous. Don¡¯t you want to see how the warlock¡¯s new toys handle your soldiers on the ground? I¡¯m certainly curious to find out what happens.¡±

 6.17

    Connor rushed down from the portal chamber, mentally summoning his crystal soldiers as he went. How could the paladins be here now? When he¡¯d first sensed the mass of approaching energy he feared he¡¯d gone mad, but Morana had confirmed it before running back outside.

    ¡°Trouble?¡± Damien asked as he flew past.

    Connor ignored the hint of amusement he heard in the boy¡¯s voice and flew on. The helpless had to find what small pleasures they could after all. He emerged from the cave entrance and, spread out perhaps a quarter mile away, was a force of knights in armor, all of them burning with holy light. Behind them he could just make out a dome protecting another group.

    He frowned. Who would they have brought that couldn¡¯t protect themselves from the dark energy of the haunted lands? It didn¡¯t matter. If they couldn¡¯t fight Connor would ignore them. In the sky above, more paladins battled with his new allies. Since his crystal soldiers couldn¡¯t fly he¡¯d have to trust the demons to handle their business alone.

    ¡°What now?¡± Morana asked.

    ¡°Now you lead your soldiers out to destroy my enemies like a good general.¡±

    Morana stared at Connor and the hundred or so crystal soldiers behind him. ¡°You want me to lead them? I can barely manage to get Big Eyes and Broken Fang to do what I want.¡±

    Connor shrugged. If she couldn¡¯t handle a handful of paladins under the best possible circumstances how could he trust her to lead his army in conquering the kingdom? ¡°Just do your best. Think of it as practice.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Practice?¡± she muttered.

    The paladins were marching towards the cave, weapons out and shining with holy light. ¡°Best get going. I don¡¯t want them to come too close.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Morana pointed at the approaching enemies with her ring hand. ¡°Attack!¡±

    The crystal soldiers lurched forward and broke into a trot. Morana flew along behind them leaving Connor alone to observe the fight. It would be interesting to see how his crude efforts performed. The information would be of great help as he decided how to improve their shapes.

    He glanced up and found the battle in the sky already over and most of his allies still alive. The leader clutched a figure in his massive hand and pointed it toward the soon-to-begin battle. Curious, Connor flew up toward them.

    He paused a safe distance from the demon. ¡°A prisoner?¡±

    The demon¡¯s high-pitched laugh grated on Connor¡¯s nerves. ¡°I just wanted the woman to watch her people die before she joined them. I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re not leading the battle yourself.¡±

    The woman groaned. Dark magic held her eyes open so she couldn¡¯t look away from the battle below.

    ¡°This will be a good test for both my soldiers and my general. Up until this moment all my plans for the crystal constructs have been theoretical. This is where the true test happens.¡±

    ¡°If they fail your plan dies with them,¡± the demon said.

    ¡°No, I will find a way to join the Horned One. If this doesn¡¯t work I¡¯ll try something else. But it will work. The crystal bodies are immensely strong when powered by demonic energy. My only real concern is their durability.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    Connor nodded. Below, the two sides were separated by only about twenty yards. ¡°When the demon spirit enters the crystal body it fuses all the fault lines creating a seamless whole. I¡¯m curious to see if any residual weakness remains in the points.¡±

    The paladin raised her head and glared at him. ¡°How can you talk so calmly when scores of good men and women are about to die? Is there no shred of humanity remaining in you?¡±

    ¡°Little enough or far too much, depending on your point of view. Now be silent. It¡¯s time to enjoy the show.¡±

 6.18

    Morana couldn¡¯t believe Connor had simply thrust her into the role of general. Two days of practice ordering two crystal soldiers around hardly qualified her to command over a hundred of the things. She didn¡¯t know whether to be honored by his trust or angry that he hadn¡¯t given her more time to prepare. Perhaps a little of both.

    It didn¡¯t matter now. Her forces were rapidly closing with the sixty some knights filling the sand before her. The crystal soldiers stomped forward at a quick march. It seemed to be the best pace they could manage.

    One paladin was a little faster than the rest. He reached the lead soldier and brought his glowing blade down on its shoulder. The blade snapped into three pieces. In his instant of shock the soldier thrust its clawed hand through his mail and into the flesh beneath. It hurled him aside with an eight-inch hole in his chest.

    From her position at the rear of the battle Morana marveled at how easily the construct killed one of the kingdom¡¯s elite soldiers. Up and down the line her soldiers battered and tore the paladins to pieces.

    One fellow glowing with more power than the rest attempted to order them into some sort of formation. Morana doubted it would matter, but she didn¡¯t want to take any chances. She sent mental commands to the constructs closest to him to focus their attacks on the leader. Ten soldiers turned, surrounded the unfortunate man, and tore him limb from limb.

    His death seemed to knock the wind out of the rest of the army. Their resistance, pitiful as it was, crumbled. In under five minutes she had completely wiped out her opponents. Morana smiled. It appeared the constructs didn¡¯t need minute-by-minute orders. She just had to point them in the right direction and order them to kill everything they encountered.

    The crystal soldiers turned their attention to the young knights behind the enemy line. They rolled around in the sand, overwhelmed by the corruption of the haunted lands. They wouldn¡¯t last a minute.

    She blinked, not quite believing it when Connor landed in front of the young knights and raised his hand. The soldiers stopped dead. A dome of dark energy formed over the enemy.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Morana flew up to him. ¡°Connor?¡±

    ¡°No need to waste this bunch. They aren¡¯t true paladins yet and thus will make good sacrifices for the crystal. They probably have enough combined soul force to summon fifteen or twenty new sprits. Well done commanding your first battle. You didn¡¯t lose a single construct.¡±

    Morana basked in Connor¡¯s approval. She hadn¡¯t actually done anything that impressive, but no need to point that out. The demon landed a few feet away and Morana unconsciously edged back from it.

    The creature held an almost-dead paladin in its claws. The woman looked like she¡¯d fought a war all by herself. Blood covered her white tabard, obscuring the design on it.

    ¡°You really are a monster,¡± the woman somehow found the strength to gasp.

    Connor was busy inspecting the soldiers for damage and paid her no mind.

    ¡°Do you have any use for this one?¡± the demon asked.

    Connor glanced their way. ¡°No. Her holy energy wouldn¡¯t be compatible with the crystal matrix.¡±

    The demon¡¯s insectoid features were incapable of anything resembling a human expression, but Morana sensed its pleasure at Connor¡¯s answer. It grabbed the woman around the neck with its free hand and squeezed until her head popped off before discarding her dead body like so much garbage.

    ¡°Hardly a mark on them.¡± Connor¡¯s pleased voice drew her attention away from the fresh corpse. ¡°They¡¯re every bit as sturdy as they are strong. We need to move quickly to secure the pass before the kingdom sends replacements to guard it.¡±

    ¡°Who could they send that would be a match for the constructs?¡± Morana asked.

    Connor turned his sharp gaze on her. ¡°Don¡¯t be too confident. This battle was fought under ideal circumstances for us and the worst possible for them. When you reach the fortress you¡¯ll lose the advantage of the haunted lands¡¯ corruption strengthening your troops.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t fail,¡± Morana said. She clenched her fist. She wouldn¡¯t! No matter what it took she wouldn¡¯t let Connor down.

    He nodded once and turned his attention to the demon. ¡°Will you join my forces in assuming control of the fortress?¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m sure your¡± ¡ªthe demon laughed¡ª¡°general can handle it. I lost three of my cohort in the battle. I¡¯m going to try and round up some replacements. We will join you soon.¡±

    Connor nodded. ¡°It will take Morana a full day to reach the pass anyway. She will hold there until you join her.¡±

    ¡°What will you be doing?¡± the demon asked.

    Morana had been wondering that herself.

    Connor gestured and the dome containing the captured people rose into the air. ¡°I¡¯ll be busy enlarging my army.¡±

    As he flew away, out of the corner of his eye, Connor caught a glimpse of the twisted, emaciated forms of ghouls waiting at the edge of the field for the mightier demons to leave so they could feed.

 6.19

    Damien watched the warlock fly away after ignoring his jibe. Something was happening outside. The crystal constructs were all rushing toward the exit. Damien had no idea what was going on and he didn¡¯t especially care. All that mattered was anyone in a position to stop him from getting free of his restraints was gone.

    You have a plan?

    ¡°Yes, but it isn¡¯t going to be pleasant.¡± Damien had been trying to work his hand free by getting it slippery with blood, but despite cutting himself several times he just couldn¡¯t manage to fit through the tiny gap. His thumb stuck out too far.

    You¡¯re not.

    ¡°Afraid so.¡±

    Damien clamped his jaw shut and yanked. The skin tore and bone flexed. He kept pulling with all his might. His thumb crunched. Damien moaned as his hand slipped out.

    The flesh of his left hand looked like he¡¯d run it through a meat grinder. He wiggled his thumb and winced. Hurt like hell, but it still moved a little. He wouldn¡¯t be doing any fine work with it, but it should be enough.

    He wrestled with the buckles of the harness and finally got it free. The buckles had corners honed to a fine point.

    Damien smiled. Dad always wanted everything to be able to serve as a weapon in a pinch. Damien said a silent word of thanks and, with the steel buckle held as firmly as his injured hand could manage, hammered it against the crystal binding his right hand.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Like a deranged woodpecker he slammed the buckle into the restraint. Blue flakes tumbled to the ground. Every blow sent jagged spasms of pain through his injured thumb. Damien ignored the pain¡ªhe¡¯d been hurt worse plenty of times in his training¡ªand kept swinging. He had no idea how long Connor would be gone and he wanted to be anywhere else when the warlock returned.

    After more strikes than he cared to count a crack formed in the crystal. A fierce grin curved his lips. I¡¯ll show you, you bastard.

    He focused on the crack, imagining it was Connor¡¯s mouth, and kept pounding.

    He was going to get out of here.

    Then he was going to get his strength back and when he did he was going to hunt down Connor Blackman and cut him into bloody chunks.

    The restraint shattered and Damien slumped to the ground. He took a moment to gather himself. His soul force didn¡¯t immediately begin regenerating which surprised him.

    ¡°Is your power returning?¡±

    Not yet. The effects of the crystal may have warped our flow. It¡¯ll take time to return to normal.

    Damien scrambled to his feet. ¡°We don¡¯t have time.¡±

    It takes as long as it takes. Some things simply can¡¯t be rushed. You need to find somewhere to hide.

    That was putting it mildly. Without his soul force Damien was nothing more than a slightly above average swordsman. He walked a few steps and stood in front of an unconscious Imogen. Her flawless face was drawn and sunken, her golden hair filthy and clumped together. He wanted to set her free, but Damien could barely look after himself. Even if he got her out of her restraints he had no strength to carry her away or protect her if he had to fight.

    He sighed and stroked her cheek. He couldn¡¯t help her now. Damien glanced at Eli and Master Shen. He couldn¡¯t help any of them.

    Damien, we have to go.

    ¡°I know.¡± He turned back to Imogen. ¡°I¡¯ll be back for you, all of you, I promise.¡±

    He ran deeper into the mountain, away from the crystal, and his friends, and Connor. Soon, he promised himself, soon he¡¯d be running back, his power restored, to drop this mountain on Connor¡¯s head just like he did Mikhail. Only this time he¡¯d make sure his enemy stayed buried.

 6.20

    Jen, Kat, and Amanda walked toward the massive main gate built into the wall that guarded the kingdom side of the fortress. The sun had barely risen and, despite the softness of the inn¡¯s bed she had awoken in, Jen hadn¡¯t wanted to waste a moment more than necessary. They¡¯d decided to spend the night in the village of Knight¡¯s Rest rather than risk approaching the fortress after dark. It would have been rather embarrassing to be knocked from the air by mistake.

    After they left the ruins they¡¯d flown east through the late afternoon sky. They¡¯d only been underground for a few hours, but it felt like longer. Jen had ached everywhere, but at least her midriff had healed. They¡¯d offered to give Professor Dorius a ride back to King¡¯s College, but he insisted on continuing his research. Now that he knew what to watch out for he wouldn¡¯t accidentally release any more goblins, or so he insisted. Next time he¡¯d probably release something worse, Jen had thought but didn¡¯t say. Whatever the risks, the professor seemed content to remain underground and putter about the ruins and they were too busy to waste time worrying about him. Whatever happened to Dorius was someone else¡¯s problem.

    ¡°What sort of greeting should we expect?¡± Amanda asked.

    ¡°Beats me.¡± Jen eyed the empty battlement. There ought to be someone keeping watch on this side. A queasy feeling twisted her stomach. ¡°I¡¯ve never been to the fortress before. I have a friend that¡¯s a paladin, but she¡¯s not on the best terms with those stationed here.¡±

    ¡°I was warned during training to give the place a wide berth,¡± Kat said.

    ¡°Who told you that?¡± Amanda asked. ¡°I don¡¯t remember my masters giving it more than a passing mention.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t the masters, it was my mentor. You wouldn¡¯t know her, she died years ago. In truth I think she had a grudge of some sort against the paladins so anything she told me should be taken with a grain of salt. How do you want to approach them?¡±

    Jen planned to go straight up to the doors and demand to speak to the commander. ¡°I think I¡¯ll just knock and see what happens. There must be someone inside.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Kat said. ¡°I can¡¯t sense anyone. Paladins are strong enough that I should be able to detect even one.¡±

    Jen shrugged and marched up to the portcullis. ¡°Hello!¡±

    She waited, straining to hear any sign of life. The twist in her stomach got worse. Had they arrived too late? No, Kat would have sensed the presence of demons just as well as paladins.

    She drew her sword and hammered the iron cross-guard on the portcullis bars. The hideous clamor would have woken the dead much less any guard.

    ¡°Nobody¡¯s home,¡± Amanda said. She moved up beside Jen and peered inside. ¡°I don¡¯t see anything.¡±

    The dirt yard was empty and the keep door closed, nothing moved behind any of the arrow slits. Where was everybody?

    ¡°Let¡¯s go have a look around,¡± Jen said.

    She sent soul force into her legs and leapt straight up and over the battlements. She landed lightly on the opposite side and waited for someone to challenge her. Kat and Amanda landed beside her a moment later.

    ¡°This is foolish,¡± Kat said. ¡°If they find us wandering around the paladins will attack on sight. We should just return to the capital and let them know what¡¯s happening.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening.¡± Jen started toward the fortress. ¡°And even if there is someone here they won¡¯t attack without using their soul sight.¡±

    Hopefully.

    ¡°What makes you so sure?¡± Kat¡¯s head swung left and right, trying to look everywhere at once.

    ¡°Nothing. The only thing I¡¯m sure of is that I¡¯m not going anywhere until I find out what happened to my friend. If you two want to wait outside I don¡¯t mind. I can search the whole place in an hour, maybe two. Something happened here. Why would the paladins leave this place totally unprotected?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll help you search,¡± Amanda said. ¡°We¡¯ve come all this way. I want to see what¡¯s inside.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Jen looked over at Kat and raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Fine, someone has to keep you two out of trouble. Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±

    They reached the keep doors and Jen shoved them open. She shook her head. They hadn¡¯t even sealed up the keep. How careless could you be? Did they really expect their reputation to keep the fortress safe?

    Inside everything was gray stone with little in the way of decoration. They walked down the empty halls, pushing doors open as they went. Jen¡¯s breath caught when she opened the chapel door. It was every bit as beautiful as Marie-Bell had said. Some of the archangels depicted in the windows she recognized and others were new to her.

    On the altar rested enough gold and platinum for a thief to retire on for the rest of his life. Amanda took three steps through the door before Kat grabbed her collar and yanked her back.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I think we can say no one is in there without touching anything. Let¡¯s keep moving.¡± Kat nudged Amanda further down the hall.

    ¡°Come on. When are we going to have another chance to poke around this place? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. You don¡¯t want to waste it.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Kat pointed down the hall. ¡°What I don¡¯t want is for a paladin to come home and find us mucking about in their chapel.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Amanda stomped down the hall to the next door. She thrust it open with a good deal more energy than necessary. ¡°Hey, this is an office. Maybe we can find something useful in here.¡±

    She ducked into the room before Kat could snag her collar again.

    ¡°That girl will be the death of me,¡± Kat muttered as they hurried after Amanda.

    ¡°Look at this.¡± Amanda had the trash bin in one hand and a crumpled-up scroll in the other. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the royal seal?¡±

    Jen took it and examined the broken seal. ¡°Yes. This is the scroll the king gave to Marie-Bell. She made it this far at least. Whoever she gave it to didn¡¯t like what it said. Maybe this will tell us where the paladins went.¡±

    She set to reading, growing more confused rather than less as she worked her way down the page. When she finished Jen looked up. ¡°The king ordered the paladins to stand fast and await the arrival of the eastern army whereupon the combined force would be placed under the command of General Gauge.¡±

    Kat winced.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Paladins tend to be very proud,¡± Kat said. ¡°I doubt they took the news that they¡¯d be under the command of an ordinary man very well.¡±

    ¡°Even if they didn¡¯t like it I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯d abandon their post.¡± Jen tossed the scroll back in the bin and Amanda set it back beside the desk. ¡°Let¡¯s continue searching.¡±

    An hour later they¡¯d completed the first floor and the basement. Jen led the way up a narrow staircase to the second floor. When they reached the landing Kat stopped and cocked her head.

    ¡°I sense something. It¡¯s weak, but definitely there.¡±

    Jen reached for her sword, but Kat stopped her. ¡°It¡¯s nothing dark. In fact I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s a paladin.¡±

    ¡°Finally. Maybe we¡¯ll get some answers. Lead the way.¡± Jen pushed the door open and motioned Kat through.

    As Kat led the way through the equally empty second floor, her head turned this way and that trying to hone in on whatever she sensed.

    Amanda asked. ¡°So who are we looking for, the night watchman?¡±

    Jen didn¡¯t know and Kat was too focused to bother replying. Kat slowed then stopped in front of a closed door with a heavy wooden bar holding it shut.

    ¡°I sense it now,¡± Amanda said. ¡°Must be someone really weak.¡±

    Jen grabbed the bar but before she could lift it free Kat put a hand on her arm. ¡°Are you sure this is a good idea? The paladins locked up whoever¡¯s in there for a reason.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s three of us and one of whoever¡¯s in there. I¡¯ll take my chances.¡± Jen removed the bar, tossed it aside, and yanked the door open.

    Seated lotus style in a white-tiled room was Marie-Bell. She looked up at Jen and tears ran down her face. ¡°Thank you.¡±

 6.21

    Kat took a step back from the open door prompting an enquiring look from Jen. ¡°What?¡±

    Kat shook her head. ¡°Nothing. It¡¯s just with the door open I can sense her true power and it¡¯s greater than I first thought.¡±

    Jen dearly wished the Headmaster had assigned her a less jumpy sorcerer to work with. Beggars couldn¡¯t be choosers so she¡¯d just have to make the best of it. At least Kat was competent and reasonably strong. That was what mattered.

    Jen sighed and turned back to Marie-Bell who had climbed to her feet and wiped the tears from her face. Her hair was a mess and she had on nothing but a simple shift. It looked like someone had dragged her out of bed and brought her straight here. Jen took a step deeper into the white-tiled room. Marie-Bell rushed over to her and threw her arms around Jen¡¯s neck.

    ¡°I thought I was going to be stuck in here forever. They¡¯re all dead, Jen. I felt them vanish one by one.¡± She sniffed and Jen feared Marie-Bell might start crying again. ¡°It was horrible. Heaven¡¯s mercy, what was the commander thinking?¡±

    ¡°Slow down, take a breath.¡± Jen guided the distraught young woman out of the room and into the hall. ¡°Now tell me everything, slowly.¡±

    ¡°After I delivered the king¡¯s message Commander Kendy and her three sub-commanders broke into my room, captured me, and stuck me in the punishment chamber. The next day, at least I think it was the next day, time is really hard to figure in the room. Anyway, after a while I felt the paladins leave the fortress. All of them. I couldn¡¯t believe it.¡±

    ¡°Where did they go?¡± Kat asked.

    ¡°Into the haunted lands I think. That¡¯s the only thing that would account for the sudden drop in their soul force. The haunted lands aren¡¯t a good place for paladins, though we can withstand it better than most. They grew farther and farther away then I sensed dark power before the paladins began to disappear. I felt them die one by one.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like they walked into an ambush.¡± Jen scratched her head. ¡°Any idea why the commander led her forces out into the haunted lands?¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Marie-Bell shook her head. ¡°I think it had something to do with His Majesty¡¯s letter. Commander Kendy didn¡¯t like it at all. And no way did they walk into an ambush. Any of the paladins would have sensed demons long before they encountered them, especially ones of sufficient power that I could detect them from here.¡±

    Marie-Bell led the way back downstairs. Jen, Kat, and Amanda fell in behind her.

    As they walked Jen asked, ¡°Did you read the king¡¯s message?¡±

    ¡°No. The commander didn¡¯t see fit to share the contents with me. The way she crumpled it up and tossed it immediately into the garbage told me everything I know.¡±

    Marie-Bell pushed a closed door open and stepped into a simple bedroom. Her armor and other gear sat on a bench opposite the door. ¡°They took me out of bed before I even knew what was happening. Four of them used a suppression technique reserved for capturing rogue paladins for punishment. They threw me in the chamber and sealed the door.¡±

    ¡°They sound like real jerks,¡± Amanda said.

    Marie-Bell tried a half-hearted smile, but failed. ¡°Yes, and now they¡¯re dead. All dead. Even the initiates.¡±

    She plopped down on the bed and held her head in her hands. Jen had no idea what to say in a situation like this. Her talents lay in other directions. Maybe if she could distract Marie-Bell it would help, keep her focused on solving their current problem rather than worrying about something she couldn¡¯t change.

    ¡°We found the message. The king ordered the paladins to stand fast and await the arrival of the eastern army. When they arrived you were to fall under the command of General Gauge.¡±

    Marie-Bell looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. ¡°Well that helps explain it. Commander Kendy isn¡¯t¡­wasn¡¯t, the type to accept a lesser position. She probably figured they could deal with Connor on their own. All the older paladins liked to talk about past crusades and how they wished they¡¯d been around to participate. I doubt the commander had much trouble convincing the others to head out and bring the battle to the enemy.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s insane,¡± Kat said. ¡°The haunted lands are the worst place on the planet. No one in their right mind would go out there, especially looking for a warlock building a demon army.¡±

    ¡°Demon army?¡± Marie-Bell set about putting on her armor.

    That¡¯s right, Marie-Bell didn¡¯t know what they¡¯d learned from Professor Dorius. ¡°That¡¯s our working theory,¡± Jen said. ¡°And your observations pretty much confirm it.¡±

    ¡°I need to alert the Headmaster,¡± Kat said.

    ¡°Question.¡± Amanda raised her hand like a little kid in class. ¡°If the paladins are dead and the army is who knows how far away, who¡¯s going to protect the fortress when the demons arrive?¡±

    ¡°We are.¡± Marie-Bell cinched down the last buckle on her armor.

    Amanda groaned. ¡°I was afraid you were going to say that.¡±

 6.22

    Connor couldn¡¯t have been more pleased with his servants¡¯ first efforts. He shook his head at the paladins¡¯ stupidity. What were they thinking, coming out here after him? He flew through the cave with his prisoners.

    Something was wrong. He laid a hand on the crystal wall. The energy flow had dropped to a trickle. What was going on? Had something happened to his prisoners?

    Connor flew up to the second level and stared, stunned, at the empty slot that had once held his finest power source. Blood dripped from the intact restraint while the binding that had held the demon sword lay in glittering pieces on the floor.

    He landed and examined the smashed crystal. How had the boy managed it? He must have almost severed his own thumb to get it out of that shackle. Where had he found the strength? The other prisoners couldn¡¯t even remain conscious, much less think about escaping.

    His fist slammed into the wall. Damn it! Without Damien and his sword Connor¡¯s production of crystal constructs would drop to almost nothing. At best he could summon two or three a day now. He needed the boy back and he needed him now.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Connor flew up to the portal chamber with his bubble of prisoners. He¡¯d intended to take his time and make them proper sacrifices, but now he didn¡¯t dare linger. Every moment he delayed Damien got farther away. Connor had no idea if there were other exits deeper in the mountain, but given the size of the tunnel complex he had to allow for the possibility.

    If Damien found a way out and regained even a portion of his strength he could fly back to the kingdom and warn them about Connor¡¯s army. That would be a disaster. No, Connor wouldn¡¯t allow that to happen. He was so close to the fruition of his plan nothing could interfere.

    Connor placed his hand on the Soul Burn Crystal and fed it power. He hated having to use his own soul force, but time was of the essence. Ten crystal wolves, each as tall as his chest, grew up out of the floor. Next he guided the sphere so it hung directly under the gate and crushed the prisoners inside to pulp. Their soul force streamed into the gate. A moment later the black lightning struck the wolves.

    Bloody lights appeared in their eyes. Crystal lips pulled back in snarls.

    ¡°One of my prisoners has escaped,¡± Connor said, focusing his will on the constructs and imprinting an image of Damien in their consciousness. ¡°Bring him back alive.¡±

    The wolves threw back their heads and howled, a hollow, echoing sound that filled the chamber and sent a chill up Connor¡¯s spine. The demon wolves raced off, their nails clicking on the crystal-covered path.

 6.23

    Damien leaned against the rough stone wall and grimaced at the throbbing pain in his left hand. He¡¯d tried to keep track of each twist and turn as he ran through the dark tunnels and he managed pretty well at first. The light from the glowing crystal had showed him his surroundings in minimal detail. Not that there was much to see, just rock and more rock. It hadn¡¯t taken long for him to outrun the light and he soon found himself staggering around in the dark with only his injured hand trailing along the wall to remind him that he was still making progress. Progress to what, he had no idea other than away from the crazy warlock that wanted to use his soul force the way a miller used a stream to power his wheel.

    Speaking of his soul force¡­ Damien turned his focus inward. His core remained empty and his energy flow continued to run all over the place. He concentrated on directing the flow into his core, but it resisted all his efforts. Ann had never mentioned something like this and he didn¡¯t know how to fix it.

    Time will fix it. Be patient.

    ¡°I¡¯d love to, but time isn¡¯t something we have in abundance either.¡± A faint, distant howl echoed down the tunnel. ¡°What was that?¡±

    Nothing good, I¡¯m sure. You should keep moving.

    Damien pushed away from the wall and staggered on. Keep moving, she said. That was all well and good, but he wished he had a destination, or even a light so he could see where he was staggering to.

    A weak, flickering red light appeared in the air beside him. The rough stone became visible along with a few feet of the tunnel floor. Though he couldn¡¯t make out that much more than before, Damien found the light a comfort.

    ¡°Has your power recovered?¡±

    A tiny bit. That light is about all I can manage.

    ¡°It¡¯s more than I can manage. How come your soul force is recovering faster than mine?¡±

    I can only guess. Probably the fact that I¡¯m a spirit and I have divine soul force has something to do with it. Your body has also sustained serious internal damage. I¡¯m not certain how you¡¯re still on your feet.

    ¡°When the alternative is death, you¡¯d be amazed what you can do. Besides, pain and I are old friends.¡±

    Damien kept going, slow and steady. Lizzy¡¯s light slowly grew brighter as her power regenerated. After a moment of jealousy he said, ¡°You should store some of the energy. I only need enough light to keep from tripping.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The howls grew louder behind them. Where did Connor find wolves? Could he simply create any sort of monster he wanted from crystal and summon a demon spirit with the powers he required? Damien shivered. If that was possible it would give Connor a huge advantage, not that he needed any more.

    Damien paused again and tried to figure out how far off his hunters were. The howls echoed through the tunnels, making distance impossible to figure and he couldn¡¯t sense anything. Not only did he have no power to fight with, but even his sorcerous senses were useless.

    Those things are connected. Regain the use of your soul force and the rest will follow.

    Great, was that all he needed to do? The click of stone on stone sounded behind him. ¡°Douse the light.¡±

    The tunnel went pitch back. One of the hunters was close. Every step it took sounded louder. It wasn¡¯t running. The creature must be having trouble locating him.

    You have almost no soul force for it to detect.

    So there¡¯s at least some upside to losing his strength. Damien moved deeper down the tunnel, as silent as his warlord training could make him. He needed to find a side passage. Maybe he could set a trap and if Lizzy had enough strength gathered he might even live through it.

    I only have about one percent of my full power. I doubt that will be enough to pierce the crystal shell.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to blast it.¡± Damien finally felt an opening and slipped through it. It wasn¡¯t an actual passage, more of a small chamber. If this didn¡¯t work they¡¯d be trapped between a stone wall and an angry demon wolf. ¡°Reinforce your tip. When I pierce the shell release all your power into it.¡±

    You could just keep running. The hunter is still a little ways away.

    ¡°No more running. If I do nothing else it will catch us in a minute anyway. If I¡¯m going to die, I prefer to do it fighting.¡±

    I prefer you stay alive.

    Damien smiled in the dark. He couldn¡¯t argue with her.

    The sounds of the demon wolf were close now, saving him from having to answer.

    He took a tight grip on Lizzy with his right hand and put the heel of his left hand under her pommel. The broken bone in his hand shifted, forcing him to swallow a scream.

    A glowing red eye appeared in the dark tunnel, giving off just enough light to reveal the sharp, savage features of the shoulder-high construct.

    Damien thrust with everything he had. Lizzy hit the hard crystal shell and flexed before her hardened tip pierced its shell.

    ¡°Now!¡±

    A feeble surge of power and the crystal wolf shot across the tunnel and slammed into the far wall. It scrambled to its feet and shook all over.

    Damn it!

    He raised Lizzy, ready to bash the creature to pieces with her hilt if he had to.

    It turned burning eyes on him. If it were possible for a stone figure to show anger the demon wolf did it. The construct crouched and gathered itself.

    Damien snarled back, ready to fight to the end.

    A red line appeared on its flank followed by a second. Soon it looked like a red spiderweb covered the wolf.

    Damien threw himself to the tunnel floor an instant before the construct exploded. Razor-sharp shards of crystal sliced his arms and back. Just shallow nicks, but enough to sting. He scrambled to his feet and jogged away from the site of the battle. If the demon wolves had senses as sharp as he feared, it wouldn¡¯t take them long to find their departed brother.

 6.24

    After stumbling through the dark for so long, Damien at first thought he was imagining the pale, green glow that filled the tunnel ahead. It looked familiar, but without his sorcerous senses everything seemed washed out, the important details missing. He¡¯d only been a true sorcerer for a little over a year and his extra senses had awakened three years before that, but even so he found it hard to cope with their loss. Dad would laugh if he could see Damien stumbling, weak and pathetic, like a child taking his first steps. Damien wanted to laugh at himself, but he lacked the energy to spare.

    When he got closer he realized what the light was: concentrated earth force. He hadn¡¯t had any training so according to Leah he shouldn¡¯t be able to detect the energy.

    She also said your own light blinded you to it. You¡¯re a lot less bright than you used to be.

    ¡°Is that an insult or compliment?¡±

    An observation. Hurry up. My awareness has expanded enough that I can sense the wolves getting closer. We need a defensible position.

    Another wave of jealousy washed over Damien. He ignored it. His happiness at having Lizzy with him and recovering far outweighed his distaste at his own weakness.

    The light grew brighter and eventually the tunnel widened into a grotto. The source of the glow was a shallow pool at the far end of the cavern. It reminded Damien a great deal of the pool that had restored Leah. Perhaps it could do something similar for him.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    There¡¯s no time. This chamber is too open. There are at least three wolves less than a minute behind us. If we fight here you¡¯ll be torn to pieces.

    ¡°How much power have you gathered?¡± Damien studied the ceiling near the tunnel entrance. Eight large stalactites dangled there like oversized icicles.

    This is a bad idea, Damien. If you seal the tunnel we¡¯ll be trapped.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. If the pool heals me the stones will be nothing more than a nuisance. If it doesn¡¯t we¡¯ll be no less dead than if we tried to fight off three of those wolves with the power available. Get ready.¡±

    Lizzy projected wordless distress, but gray energy gathered along her blade. Down the tunnel three pairs of glowing eyes appeared, getting closer by the second.

    Damien slashed Lizzy, releasing the power. The blast hammered the hanging stones. All eight stalactites came crashing to the floor along with boulders the size of huts. When the dust cleared the entrance was sealed tight. It would take weeks for the wolves to dig through that, if they could do it at all.

    What now?

    Damien walked over to the pool, set Lizzy down at the edge, and stripped. When all his filthy, ragged clothes sat on the edge of the pool beside her, he eased into the water. It was warm and pure. His minor aches vanished in an instant. The mass of pain in his hand dulled to a throb. He lay back and floated on the surface, eyes closed.

    It felt like the light of the world had flowed into him. He understood now why the druids were so secretive. Who would want to share such a wonderful resource?

    A sort of euphoria filled him and time became an irrelevant, abstract idea.

 6.25

    Jen stood on the battlements above the outermost wall. It towered sixty feet above the ground and had to be forty feet thick. The wall completely filled the pass. The blocks had been carved precisely so that they butted up tight enough against the mountain that a bug would be hard pressed to fit through. Above the gate hung a stone block held up by a combination of chains and sorcery. It could be released in the event the fortress commander deemed the gate indefensible. Jen planned to drop it at once and have the sorcerers fuse the stone together.

    You could pound the wall for months with conventional siege equipment and not put so much as a dent in it. Pity Connor wasn¡¯t sending catapults and ballistae against them. With sorcery at their disposal stone walls didn¡¯t mean a great deal. Of course that begged the question of how the paladins had kept the creatures of the haunted lands out for so long.

    Behind them the pass sloped upward and two more walls, each every bit as tall as the first, blocked an approaching army from reaching the fortress. It would take a conventional force months to surmount such obstacles if it was even possible. With paladins defending it Jen could understand now why no demonic force had ever breached the fortress and entered the kingdom.

    The narrow pass extended east from the outer wall another fifty yards before opening out into dead, gray sand. Just looking at the empty nothingness drained her will. That was what Connor wanted to do to the kingdom and the son of a bitch was using her brother to help him. No way was Jen going to let him get away with it.Stolen story; please report.

    Marie-Bell stood an arm¡¯s length away staring out over the pass, a faraway look in her eyes. It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out what she was thinking. Jen had to keep her focused. If her emotions got the better of her the paladin would be worse than useless, she¡¯d be a liability.

    ¡°What¡¯s to keep the demons from just blasting this wall to rubble?¡± Jen asked. ¡°Damien could turn it to so much gravel in a blink.¡±

    Marie-Bell gave a little shake of her head and faced Jen. ¡°Holy wards protect it from corrupt magic. There was no other way to secure it from some of the nasties out there. Normally fifty paladins would hold this wall. How will the four of us manage?¡±

    ¡°For starters we¡¯re not going to defend the gate. I need you to drop the stone.¡±

    Marie-Bell stared for a moment. ¡°If we do that a large portion of the wall will need to be rebuilt to make it usable again.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s the worst thing that happens before this war is over we can consider ourselves fortunate. Drop it, please.¡±

    Marie-Bell¡¯s trembling chin firmed and she nodded. The young paladin headed for the enclosure that protected the stone¡¯s bindings. She disappeared inside and a few seconds later the stone dropped. When it hit the ground, the wall shook and gravel fell from the sides of the pass. The vibration shook Jen to her bones.

    Jen turned to Kat. ¡°Can you fuse the stone in place?¡±

    ¡°No problem. Come on, Amanda, time to show me what you learned in shaping class.¡±

    ¡°I failed shaping in my final test.¡± Amanda flew down beside her mentor and soon golden beams shot out from the sorcerers¡¯ extended hands.

    Marie-Bell rejoined Jen. ¡°What now?¡±

    ¡°Now we wait and hope our reinforcements arrive here before the enemy.¡±

    ¡°What are the odds of that?¡±

    Jen couldn¡¯t meet her hopeful gaze. ¡°Not as good as I¡¯d like.¡±

 6.26

    Morana flew at the head of her army. She glanced back at the hundred and thirteen crystal constructs stomping along behind her. Every once in a while a streak of red lightning ran through one of the soldiers as the demonic spirit shifted, making itself more at home in its host.

    Fang and Eye were in the lead; she¡¯d developed an odd fondness for the slightly misshapen creations. It was a small army as such things went, but she¡¯d put them up against ten thousand normal men and be perfectly confident of their victory. Back beyond the constructs, just in sight, the darting shapes of ghouls trailed them like sharks behind a fishing trawler. Disgusting creatures, but maybe she could find some use for them.

    In a satchel at her side rested the black urn. If they ran into sorcerers Morana would make short work of them before sending unconscious bodies back to add to Connor¡¯s collection. Between the urn and her crystal soldiers Morana doubted anything or anyone in the kingdom could stand against her. They were going to do it, her and Connor. They were going to change the world.

    After marching through the night the mountain pass appeared in the morning light. It really was narrow. Morana had flown over it twice, quickly, and with her power suppressed, but seeing it up close at ground level made the size clear. No wonder the paladins had never failed to repel an attack.

    Her eyes crinkled in delight. There¡¯d be no paladins to stop them today. After they seized the fortress Morana would have liked to move straight into the kingdom and begin subduing the population, but Connor had ordered her to wait and she wasn¡¯t foolish enough to disobey. Besides which a little over a hundred soldiers wasn¡¯t enough to pacify an entire nation no matter how strong they were.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The moment she crossed into the shadowed recess of the pass the weight of the haunted lands vanished. It was a relief to her in one regard, but a curse in another. Without the corruption to feed them, the demon spirits would be weaker. Of course weaker was a relative term. They were still far superior to any forces they were likely to encounter.

    The first wall waited only a little ways into the pass. Morana stopped and stared. The gate was plugged by an immense stone and unless her eyes were playing tricks, someone had fused it to the wall. She couldn¡¯t imagine the paladins had dropped the stone before they left. What sort of idiot would seal their own entrance?

    She squinted. Four figures walked along the battlements. Morana had been so intent on her soldiers and her plans for the fortress she hadn¡¯t been focused outward. Now that she concentrated she could sense a paladin, a warlord and two middling sorcerers. Not the most awesome force ever assembled, but more than she expected. She shrugged. Another quick battle would be good for her and her troops.

    At Morana¡¯s mental command the crystal soldiers stopped. She flew up even with the battlements, but stayed a safe distance away.

    ¡°Surrender and I¡¯ll let you run away.¡± It sounded like something Connor would say which pleased her.

    The beautiful blond warlord spat over the edge of the wall. ¡°March back wherever you came from and we¡¯ll let you live.¡±

    Morana couldn¡¯t help laughing. It was the most ludicrous threat she¡¯d ever heard. ¡°Have it your way. But don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t give you a chance.¡±

    She flew back to her soldiers and ordered them to attack. She would overwhelm these fools and complete her mission.

 6.27

    ¡°They¡¯re coming,¡± Marie-Bell said.

    Jen scrambled up from where she¡¯d been napping on the wall. ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not in sight yet, but I can sense a great mass of corruption getting close.¡±

    Jen paced back and forth like a caged animal, eager for the fight to start. There was no reason for her to be eager considering how her last battle with a demon had gone, but she couldn¡¯t help it. Waiting was the worst. Once the fight started she wouldn¡¯t have to think, just react.

    ¡°How come you¡¯re just sensing them now? Earlier you could feel them from miles away.¡±

    Marie-Bell rubbed bloodshot eyes. ¡°The punishment chamber suppresses your abilities by channeling all your power into your senses. It¡¯s supposed to expand your awareness or something. Anyway, out here my senses are much more limited.¡±

    Kat and Amanda flew up on the battlement from the fortress where they¡¯d been resting. Amanda carried a satchel bulging with food.

    ¡°They¡¯re coming,¡± Kat said.

    Jen nodded toward Marie-Bell. ¡°So she said. How many do you think?¡±

    Kat shook her head. ¡°No idea. I can¡¯t pick out their individual soul forces.¡±

    ¡°Guess we¡¯ll just have to count them when they get here.¡± Amanda grinned and set the supplies down. ¡°More enemies means more targets. Targets I can blast.¡±

    Kat groaned, but didn¡¯t warn her off this time. Apparently demons were fair game when it came to target practice. Jen was glad to have the sorcerers with her, but she would have given anything to have Damien by her side. Not only because of his tremendous power, but because she¡¯d know he was still alive.

    Movement caught her attention. She sent soul force to her eyes then rubbed them. ¡°What are those things?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like them.¡± Marie-Bell was the only one capable of enhancing her sight the way Jen did.

    ¡°What do you see?¡± Kat asked.

    ¡°Yeah! I want to see them too.¡± Amanda leaned out over the wall as though getting a few feet closer would make any difference.

    ¡°They look like crystal statues brought to life,¡± Jen said. ¡°Is that the demon army?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Marie-Bell shaded her eyes as she stared at the approaching things. ¡°Each one is filled with demonic energy. I didn¡¯t realize a demon spirit could inhabit a stone statue.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Jen shrugged. ¡°If they can hold together a cloud of smoke why not a statue? Lizzy lives in a sword and she can make it fly. I guess this isn¡¯t so different. I just wonder where they found so much crystal.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps there¡¯s a mine in the haunted lands,¡± Kat said.

    ¡°Wow! Those are some wicked looking things,¡± Amanda said. The enemy force had moved close enough that the sorcerers could make them out.

    Jen had been so distracted by the statues that she hadn¡¯t even noticed the pale-skinned sorcerer flying at their head. She must be the replacement for Mikhail since Damien killed the black knight. She looked vaguely familiar, but Jen certainly wouldn¡¯t have forgotten someone that looked like her.

    The army stopped and the sorcerer flew up even with them. ¡°Surrender and I¡¯ll let you run away.¡±

    What a stupid thing to say. Where could they run when she and her master wanted to destroy the kingdom? Jen spat over the wall. ¡°March back wherever you came from and we¡¯ll let you live.¡±

    The sorcerer laughed and said something else but Jen wasn¡¯t listening. She turned to Marie-Bell. ¡°My sword will be useless against those things. Are there any more hammers like yours in the armory?¡±

    ¡°I doubt it. Mauls aren¡¯t very popular, but you might find something blunt.¡±

    ¡°Here they come,¡± Amanda said.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡± Jen leapt off the wall and raced to the nearby armory at warlord speed. The trip took only seconds. She ripped the door off its hinges in her haste and tossed it aside. Inside she found every type of sword you could imagine, crossbows, shields, and a ha! A pair of iron-headed maces. She pulled them down from their place on the wall and rushed back just as fast as she arrived.

    The crystal demons had only covered half the distance between where they¡¯d stopped and the wall. A streak of golden lightning struck a demon in the front row.

    ¡°Ha! Take that.¡± Amanda pumped a fist.

    The monster didn¡¯t even break stride, its outer shell remaining undamaged. It seemed basic sorcery wouldn¡¯t be enough to stop them. The first demon reached the wall, dug its talons into the stone, and began to climb. Soon ten then twenty of them were crawling up the wall like spiders. They weren¡¯t fast, but they didn¡¯t stop.

    Kat conjured a pry bar of pure soul force and ripped one of them free. It crashed to the floor of the pass, got to its feet, and resumed climbing.

    ¡°How do we stop them?¡± Jen asked as she raised her borrowed maces. The first wave reached the top of the wall before anyone could answer her.

    She ran at warlord speed, hammering their talons as they appeared on the lip of the wall. One after another they fell from the wall only to pop back up and start climbing again.

    Marie-Bell charged her hammer with holy energy and brought it down on the head of a crystal demon when it appeared above the edge of the wall. A horrible crunch was followed by the statue exploding.

    Marie-Bell staggered back. Jen darted in when a demon appeared and tried to take advantage of the opening. Her maces hammered the creature, forcing it back and eventually sending it over the wall. She hadn¡¯t even been able to dent it.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Jen asked.

    Marie-Bell nodded. ¡°Destroying them releases the corrupt energy. It¡¯s not pleasant. But I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°Good. You only have to do that a hundred and twelve more times.¡±

    Marie-Bell offered a wan smile. ¡°If I can do it five more times today I¡¯ll be pleased. That took almost all my power.¡±

    The next wave reached the top of the wall ending their conversation and sending Jen racing along, bashing hands and heads, and accomplishing next to nothing. It was tremendously frustrating, but she took some solace in the fact that the sorcerers weren¡¯t having any better luck. The demons shrugged off their blasts as easily as they did Jen¡¯s blows. At this rate it was going to be a long day.

 6.28

    Morana stared in disbelief as her soldiers came raining back down to earth. The crystal constructs climbed the wall easily enough, just as she¡¯d known they would, but the moment they reached the top that horrid warlord knocked their claws free and sent them sprawling to the ground.

    A blinding flash was followed by a burst of corruption. One of her soldiers had been destroyed and judging by the white light that preceded it the paladin had been the one to do it. She clenched her teeth so tight her jaw ached. Morana couldn¡¯t allow these pests to impede Connor¡¯s efforts, for her own sake as much as his.

    She summoned a handful of soldiers and conjured a black disk under them. They flew up toward the wall. When they were at their highest point a jolt ran through her and the disk vanished, sending them tumbling like the others.

    ¡°Damn it!¡±

    She traced the source of the jolt and found the red-haired sorcerer waving down at her, smirking. Morana snarled and darted into the air. The soldiers didn¡¯t need her constant attention. She could deal with the arrogant little sorcerer and her mentor then turn her full attention to the paladin and warlord.

    The female sorcerers met her well away from the wall. They spread out so she could only focus on one at a time. It appeared they weren¡¯t quite as stupid as she hoped.

    A golden blast from the young one broke on Morana¡¯s personal shield. If that was the best she could do there was nothing to fear.

    Morana countered with a burst of hellfire. The girl dodged and blasted her again with a feeble energy bolt.

    She sent burst after burst of hellfire at the speedy sorcerer, but none of them connected. A construct appeared around Morana¡¯s leg and needle-sharp extrusions tried to punch through her shield.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Morana shattered it and sent a burst of hellfire at the older woman who deflected with a golden shield. A blast from the young one, much stronger than the first barrage, sent her tumbling through the sky. Morana righted herself and sent a wave of hellfire in every direction. She¡¯d burn the insects out of the sky.

    When the hellfire died out she found her opponents floating in a sphere of their combined soul force and looking none the worse for wear. Morana had used half her power chasing the obnoxious gnats with nothing to show for it. She needed to bring the urn to bear, but she couldn¡¯t use it and fly at the same time.

    Gah! What was she supposed to do?

    Down on the wall her soldiers were falling as fast as they climbed. This was a waste of time. She needed to smash the wall or at least blow a hole in it. Once that was done the sorcerers wouldn¡¯t matter anyway.

    She flew back to rejoin her soldiers. The sorcerers seemed content to let her escape. It was clear to Morana that they were just playing for time, all of them. Of course there was only four of them so they didn¡¯t have many other options. Did they have reinforcements already on the way? She had to assume they did. If more sorcerers and warlords showed up her army could be bottled up for weeks.

    Worse, if she hadn¡¯t claimed the fortress by the time that bug-headed demon arrived she¡¯d have to listen to its mocking laughter.

    Morana issued a mental command recalling the constructs. When they were all clear of the wall she drew deep from her core and fired a river of hellfire at it. An instant before her attack would have struck, a white glow appeared. It sucked up her fire and when she finally ran out of soul force there wasn¡¯t so much as a scorch mark on the cursed barrier.

    If pure rage could have destroyed the wall it would be so much dust, but her anger was no more effective than hellfire.

    Morana pointed at the wall. ¡°Smash a hole in it!¡±

    Her army surged forward. When they reached the wall some pounded with their fists and other clawed with talons as hard as steel. Thin lines and shallow scrapes appeared where they struck. In ten years they might tunnel through it.

    Morana stretched. She¡¯d let them work for an hour while her soul force recovered and she tried to think up another tactic. The urn was the key. If she could somehow fly up there and knock out the defenders her problems would be solved.

 6.29

    After an hour of her soldiers pounding on the accursed wall all Morana had to show for it was a throbbing headache and a restored core. Hopefully the defenders were suffering from the noise as much as she was. Morana touched the crystal ring with her thumb and began to form the order for the soldiers to stop. She changed her mind and dug out the urn. If her crystal demons could keep the defenders distracted it would make the task of flying up onto the wall that much easier.

    She wrapped herself in an invisibility shield and tried her best to diffuse her soul force. With three people up there capable of detecting her Morana doubted the precaution would make much difference, but she saw no reason not to try.

    Hugging the wall of the pass, she eased her way slowly up to the edge of the wall. She was going to make it. The pests would never know what hit them.

    A blast of soul force slammed into her, bouncing her off the wall of the pass. Her invisibility vanished. Morana spun, unharmed but enraged, to find the sorcerers both flying a little ways away. The younger one was smirking like an idiot. Maybe she¡¯d just kill that one and send the other back to Connor alone.

    She dodged a blast from the young one and flew toward the wall. If she could just make it up on the battlements. Another blast battered her shoulder, but didn¡¯t make it through her shield.

    Ten feet from the wall she ran into an invisible barrier and stopped cold. A line of soul force connected it to the older sorcerer. Curse the woman. She must have known Morana couldn¡¯t use the urn and her powers at the same time.

    Morana slapped a third blast aside, channeled power to her shield, and slammed into the barrier. It flexed under Morana¡¯s assault, encouraging her to push even harder.

    ¡°Help me!¡± the older sorcerer shouted.

    The barrier¡¯s strength increased when the younger one added her power to it. Morana focused and poured more energy into her effort. She had to get through. It didn¡¯t matter how much strength she had left.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.¡°It¡¯s not going to hold,¡± the younger one said.

    She was right. Morana smashed through the barrier and landed on the battlements.

    The younger one rushed down.

    ¡°Amanda!¡±

    The instant she landed Morana sent a blast of black lightning from the urn into the girl. She twitched and collapsed.

    The older sorcerer circled above her, well out of range. She raised her hands and sent a blast of golden lightning at Morana. The urn absorbed the attack like it was nothing. The sorcerer nodded as though she¡¯d confirmed something.

    Morana smiled an evil smile. Her opponent was clever, but would she be ruthless enough to sacrifice the younger sorcerer to save herself? Morana walked toward Amanda, drawing a curved dagger as she went. She would cut the girl¡¯s throat with considerable pleasure.

    Morana only managed a handful of steps before the unconscious woman began to move. She couldn¡¯t have recovered already. Then Morana noticed the threads of soul force the older sorcerer was using to drag Amanda to a safe distance. Morana brushed them away with the urn¡¯s power and continued to advance.

    ¡°If you want to save her you¡¯ll have to come down here,¡± Morana taunted the annoying sorcerer as she moved closer to the helpless Amanda.

    Morana stopped, one foot on either side of the unconscious girl. The older sorcerer made no move to descend. Perhaps she¡¯d underestimated the woman¡¯s will to survive. She crouched down and a blast of holy energy hammered her back and sent her skidding across the battlements.

    Morana scrambled to her feet. The paladin stood over Amanda, her hammer glowing. Why hadn¡¯t the urn absorbed her attack? She looked down at the urn feeling like her best friend had just betrayed her.

    Morana¡¯s lips twisted into an ugly snarl. She pointed the urn at the paladin and sent black lightning screaming towards her. The glowing hammer went up and the lightning struck a white shield and vanished.

    ¡°No!¡± Morana sent more lightning streaming into the paladin¡¯s shield to no effect.

    ¡°My power negates yours,¡± the paladin said, her calm tone enraging Morana further.

    Bitch! Nothing could stand against her urn. Its power was absolute.

    The woman strode through a storm of lightning toward a terrified Morana. No, no, no! Her trump card was useless against the holy knight. The paladin was only a few steps away when Morana ended the lightning and used the fraction of her power remaining to fly straight up and back toward her soldiers, dodging a pair of weak blasts from the older sorcerer. As she went she willed the crystal demons to attack.

    She may have lost the battle, but she¡¯d still managed to eliminate one of the defenders. Only three remained now. It was only a matter of time before she wore them down.

 6.30

    Lidia flew on her eagle construct above The Tower along with thirty other sorcerers gathered from all over the kingdom. Pulling one here and one there had taken longer than she would have preferred, but she didn¡¯t want to strip any of the provinces of all their sorcerers, so it was necessary. With Thomas¡¯s help she¡¯d selected the strongest sorcerers in the kingdom, not the strongest, he was still missing, but the strongest available. Most of them were skilled fighters with many years¡¯ experience. Men and women Lidia was confident going into battle with. In addition to great fighters she¡¯d grabbed John Kord as well. He was the most gifted healer she¡¯d ever seen and before this was over his talents would be needed.

    They knew nothing beyond the fact that she needed them. She¡¯d been vague in her orders just in case a scroll was intercepted by an enemy agent. She¡¯d chosen to hold the gathering at The Tower instead of the capital for the same reason. Lidia was fairly certain they¡¯d cleaned out all the spies back home, but she wasn¡¯t inclined to risk it, especially for something this important.

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for responding so quickly. We¡¯ll be heading east to reinforce the army. The paladins guarding the pass are all dead and the fortress is now held by four very brave people.¡±

    A murmur ran through the assembled sorcerers. Lidia had known the loss of the paladins would shake them. That¡¯s why she selected her most experienced people for this mission. If they let fear dominate their reactions the mission was doomed before it began.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to relieve them and make damn sure nothing from the haunted lands enters the kingdom. We¡¯ve always depended on the paladins to keep us safe, but now it¡¯s time to step up and protect ourselves. Let¡¯s go!¡±

    Nods of grim determination followed her speech. Just as she¡¯d hoped. These were the right people for the job. They flew east at a comfortable pace. Lidia could have easily doubled her speed, but she didn¡¯t want to arrive with her forces worn out.

    Stolen story; please report.She didn¡¯t set a course directly for the pass. Lidia wanted to meet up with Zahara and the eastern army so they could approach together. It took most of the day to cross the kingdom, but finally, just before sunset, they spotted the army camp.

    Tents and cook fires spread over a camp a quarter of a mile in diameter. The army was only five miles from the fortress. The eastern army numbered twelve thousand, but most of those were normal men and women, skilled fighters, but no match for demons. This battle would come down to the sorcerers and warlords which made up a small subset of the army. A very small subset. Zahara commanded twenty sorcerers and there were two hundred warlords assigned to the force. Nowhere near as many as Lidia would have preferred, but she¡¯d make do. It wasn¡¯t like there was any other choice.

    A small, slender figure rose up from the camp and flew out to meet them. High Sorcerer Zahara was the youngest of the four high sorcerers at only thirty-nine. Her long, dark hair swirled around her heart-shaped face as she flew up to greet them.

    Lidia didn¡¯t let the delicate appearance of the high sorcerer fool her. Zahara was strong and fierce. There was no one, well almost no one, Lidia would have rather had on her side in a battle.

    Zahara hovered a few feet from the approaching sorcerers. ¡°Lidia, we got your message. General Gauge is eager to speak with you as am I. I¡¯m sorry about your apprentice.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, but I haven¡¯t given up on the boy yet.¡± Lidia turned to address the sorcerers that had accompanied her. ¡°Get some food and rest. I expect we¡¯ll be heading out early.¡±

    The sorcerers flew down to beg a meal off the camp cooks. When they¡¯d gone Zahara asked, ¡°Were all the paladins truly wiped out?¡±

    ¡°According to Kat there¡¯s a single survivor. Hardly enough to make much difference. I¡¯ll explain everything when we join the general.¡±

    ¡°I assume you¡¯ll be assuming command of the sorcerers.¡± Zahara didn¡¯t sound any happier about it than Lidia had expected her to.

    ¡°We¡¯ll probably end up fighting in the air against strong opponents. I doubt there will be any time for complex orders. Each sorcerer will simply have to fight the best way he or she can. Any commands either of us give won¡¯t matter five seconds after we engage.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never fought demons,¡± Zahara said, her earlier anger now tinged with fear.

    Lidia had little in the way of advice. Every demon was different and all of them were horrible. All you could do was fight hard and try to stay alive. Usually survival as much as victory was the goal when fighting demons. This time simple survival wasn¡¯t enough. They had to win or risk losing everything.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go talk to the general.¡±

 6.31

    Jen battered the last statue of the most recent wave off the wall and paused for a few seconds¡¯ rest before the next line reached the top of the wall. She and Marie-Bell had been fighting nonstop since the pale warlock was driven off the day before, almost twenty-four hours of continuous running and smashing. Kat helped as she could, but the sorcerer couldn¡¯t increase her stamina with internal soul force so she was forced to rest every three or four hours or risk collapsing. Even with her prodigious strength, Jen was approaching her breaking point. A nice long nap would do wonders, but there was no way she could leave the wall for that long.

    Beside her Marie-Bell looked as bad as Jen felt, her pale skin making the dark circles under her eyes stand out even more. Swinging that heavy hammer and wearing mail, even with enhanced strength, had to have turned her arms into limp noodles.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Jen asked.

    Marie-Bell nodded. ¡°No sweat. I could do this all week.¡±

    Jen grinned.

    A shining blue head popped up over the wall and Jen hit it three times in a heartbeat, sending it crashing to the ground before she moved on to knock the next one off. You¡¯d think falling sixty feet to the rock below would at least damage them a little, but as far as she could tell, aside from a little dust, the crystal demons were in perfect condition. Marie-Bell hadn¡¯t dared use enough power in a single strike to destroy one again for fear of not being able to continue the defense.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    They finished clearing yet another wave and Marie-Bell said, ¡°She¡¯s up to something.¡±

    Jen looked where the paladin pointed. The warlock stood at the rear of the pass, a large black sphere on the ground beside her. What was that supposed to be?

    ¡°Kat!¡± Jen shouted.

    The sorcerer flew up from where she¡¯d been napping at the foot of the wall. ¡°What?¡±

    Jen nodded out toward the warlock. ¡°What¡¯s she doing?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t tell. The sphere isn¡¯t dense enough for an attack.¡±

    If Kat had more to say Jen couldn¡¯t listen. The next wave reached the top of the wall and she set about knocking them off. Halfway through the battle Kat sent a blast streaking up into the sky. Jen risked a glance, nearly getting gutted for her trouble. The black sphere sailed over the wall, untroubled by Kat¡¯s attack.

    Jen bashed the construct that tried to tear her open off the wall.

    ¡°It¡¯s full of ghouls,¡± Kat said. ¡°A dozen at least.¡±

    A blast shook the air, but Jen didn¡¯t dare turn. ¡°Go help Kat.¡±

    Marie-Bell¡¯s hammer sent a demon to the ground. ¡°Are you sure? It might take a while to hunt them down.¡±

    ¡°Less talking more hunting. I¡¯ll handle the wall.¡± Jen accelerated, further draining her depleted soul force. She cleared the wave in five seconds.

    More explosions mingled with the crash of Marie-Bell¡¯s hammer. Jen had never fought ghouls, but she assumed a sorcerer and a paladin could handle them. If they couldn¡¯t the three of them were in trouble as there was no way Jen could go help, not unless they were willing to sacrifice the outer wall.

 6.32

    Marie-Bell¡¯s hammer crashed into a demon and sent it flying. During a brief respite she glanced at Jen. Could she really leave her friend to defend the whole wall on her own? ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Less talking more hunting.¡± Jen¡¯s silhouette blurred as she sped up and battered the whole wave off the wall.

    Marie-Bell nodded once, uncertain if Jen even noticed, and leapt down. The ghouls gave off a distinct flavor of corruption, different in intensity from that produced by either the demons or warlocks. Marie-Bell had no trouble tracking them. Not that it mattered, they were stuck between the two walls with nothing but a hundred yards of bare earth and stone in which to hide.

    Kat flew above them and tried to blast the darting figures. She managed to hit one about every fourth shot. Two of the undead lay in rotting chunks, a testament to her effectiveness when she managed to make a strike. Dealing with them that way would take too long. She had to get back to Jen as quickly as possible.

    ¡°Can you round them up so I can hit them all in one go?¡± Marie-Bell shouted the question at Kat so she could hear over the snarling of the ghouls and explosions of her blasts.

    ¡°Too many and too fast.¡± Kat blasted the leg off another one and Marie-Bell darted in to crush its head with her hammer.

    A pair of ghouls ran toward the second wall. They must have sensed Amanda back in the fortress. If they made it that far the girl wouldn¡¯t stand a chance. Kat must have noticed them as well.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.Golden bubbles formed around the undead and hurled them away from the second wall. Marie-Bell rushed into their path. When the bubbles vanished she charged her hammer with holy energy and swung. The ghouls exploded like overripe grapes.

    ¡°Keep doing that,¡± Marie-Bell said. ¡°We¡¯ll have them cleaned up in no time.¡±

    No time turned out to be five minutes. When the last ghoul burst Marie-Bell spun and raced back to the wall. An overwhelming wave of corruption stopped her in her tracks. Heaven¡¯s mercy, what now?

    She ran up the steps to the battlements. Jen stood with her hands on her hips staring out over the wall. Her core was almost fully depleted, but not a single demon had made it over the wall. The rush of constructs had stopped and combined with the arrival of the new power source, Marie-Bell had a bad feeling. Out beyond the wall eighteen massive winged demons stood in the pass surrounding the warlock. Each of them was immensely strong, but one, an insect-headed monstrosity as big as an ogre was easily the strongest she¡¯d ever sensed.

    Kat landed beside Jen and clasped her hand to her mouth. ¡°Where did they come from?¡±

    ¡°The haunted lands,¡± Jen said. ¡°The lot of them landed a minute ago. As soon as they did the attacks stopped. I can¡¯t say I¡¯m thrilled to see reinforcements on the enemy¡¯s side, but the rest is welcome.¡±

    Jen appeared far too calm considering what they now faced. Perhaps because she couldn¡¯t sense just how powerful the new enemies were. More likely she was just putting on a brave face.

    Jen looked over at Kat. ¡°How do we stop them?¡±

    Kat¡¯s laugh held a hysterical edge. ¡°Stop them? I couldn¡¯t stop one, much less eighteen. And unless the good paladin has some hidden depths she hasn¡¯t shown yet I doubt she can either.¡±

    Jen turned to Marie-Bell who shook her head. She hated crushing Jen¡¯s hopeful look, but Kat had the right of it. This battle was over. They had to run.

    ¡°If we fall back to the fortress we can hold out for a while,¡± Marie-Bell said. ¡°But out here they¡¯ll simply overwhelm us. We need to go.¡±

    Down below powerful wings flapped as the demons took to the air.

    ¡°We need to go, now.¡±

 6.33

    Morana couldn¡¯t believe what she was watching. Somehow the warlord was holding off her entire force of crystal soldiers by herself. She¡¯d been certain hurling the ghouls over the wall would distract them enough to allow her forces to get a foothold on the first wall and maybe even force them to fall back to the second wall. But no, that infuriating woman raced around so fast Morana could barely follow her movements and sent every demon tumbling to the ground. It wasn¡¯t human.

    What was she going to do now? Morana should have had the fortress secured already. She knew she wasn¡¯t a great leader, but with the forces available to her three defenders should have been nothing.

    As yet another rank of soldiers went tumbling down Morana stiffened. She recognized the approaching power. A mental command stopped the futile assault and recalled the soldiers. No way would she face the insectoid demon and its minions without her forces by her side. She ran a hand over the urn and debated taking it out before deciding against it.

    Having the weapon in hand seemed like too much of a show of weakness. If the demon sensed her fear it would put her at a serious disadvantage. Morana didn¡¯t think it would attack her since she was the only one that could command the crystal soldiers, but then demons weren¡¯t known for their logical thinking.

    An approaching black cloud resolved itself into eighteen distinct shapes. So it had only managed to find one new recruit. That minor failure was something she could use if it started pushing her too much. This was going to be tricky. She didn¡¯t want to antagonize the powerful demon, but she couldn¡¯t let it run over her either. For a moment she wished Connor or even Mikhail were here with her. The black knight had been too stupid to fear demons.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The massive creature landed a few feet from her. Morana steeled herself. Neither of them were here; she¡¯d have to manage on her own, just like always.

    ¡°Why are you still in the pass and not in the fortress?¡± the demon asked.

    ¡°The wall combined with a small, but skilled, group of defenders has proven to be a greater challenge than I expected.¡±

    The demon looked up at the wall then back at her. ¡°There are three humans up there. Are you saying three humans have held you up for a day and a half?¡±

    ¡°There were four to begin with. I eliminated one.¡±

    Its high-pitched laugh pained her ears. ¡°You killed one human in a day and a half. That is your great accomplishment? Pathetic.¡±

    Morana didn¡¯t rise to the taunt. Neither did she point out that she hadn¡¯t killed the girl, only rendered her unconscious. She hated to admit it, but her results were kind of pathetic. Connor was right, she¡¯d been far too confident in the power he¡¯d given her.

    ¡°Now that you¡¯re here we can defeat them together,¡± Morana said.

    It laughed again. ¡°We do not require your help to deal with three humans. We will rend them limb from limb then open the door to the fortress for you. Can you at least manage to lead your toy soldiers up there on your own?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll manage.¡± Morana clamped her jaw tight to keep from saying something that might get her killed.

    ¡°Now watch how you go about killing humans.¡±

    The demon lashed its wings and leapt into the air. Arrogant monster. She hoped the paladin split its ugly skull in half. She¡¯d turn it into a lamp and put it on her nightstand back in Port Valcane.

 6.34

    Jen sprang onto the disk Kat had conjured and they flew away just ahead of a blast of hellfire that would have turned them to cinders. She hated retreating, hated giving ground to the enemy without making them bleed for it. But as Kat and Marie-Bell said, there was no way they could fight flying enemies in such numbers. Not if they wanted to survive.

    A stream of hellfire narrowly missed them as they passed over the second wall and zoomed toward the third. Marie-Bell raised a holy shield just in time to protect them from a pair of converging blasts. The black flames splashed over the shield, causing it to tremble.

    Kat put on a burst of speed, but the demons kept up easily. It was lucky they had a head start, otherwise they would have been caught by now. The third wall came and went. The fortress was in sight now. Once they got inside it would be close-quarters fighting: dirty, ugly, close-up killing. She doubted the three of them would last long in that sort of battle against demons. This bunch looked designed for close combat.

    More hellfire streaked by, some Kat dodged and some splashed against Marie-Bell¡¯s shield. Jen felt useless in a fight like this. It wasn¡¯t like she could throw her sword at the demons and even if she did she only had one. She had to count on her companions to keep them safe for a few more seconds then run like hell for the fortress gate. How long a wooden door would last against eighteen demons Jen couldn¡¯t say, but she¡¯d feel better to have it between them for however many seconds it lasted.

    Kat landed ten feet from the door and the instant she did Jen sprinted for it at warlord speed. She yanked it open and held it for the others. A burst of hellfire blackened the stone over her head. Jen wasn¡¯t certain if the demons were poor shots or if they were toying with her. If it was the latter she¡¯d do her best to make them regret their arrogance.

    Kat went through first followed by Marie-Bell. Jen slipped inside and slammed the heavy door shut. While Jen hunted for a bar Marie-Bell placed her hands on the door. White light filtered through her fingers and glowing runes appeared on the door. It swelled in place, seeming to become part of the frame.

    When Marie-Bell stepped back Jen asked, ¡°What did you do?¡±

    ¡°When this place was built the founders wove holy wards into the stone as well as all the openings. While no one believed a force could make it past the walls, the first paladins were nothing if not thorough. They knew if catastrophe should strike and they had to fall back to the keep it would be the worst possible scenario so they reserved the most power for the protection of the fortress itself. Our enemies will find it no easy feat to gain entrance.¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°So we¡¯re stuck buying time again,¡± Jen said. ¡°I guess it could be worse.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Kat slumped against the wall. ¡°We could be dead.¡±

    Jen walked past the exhausted sorcerer and patted her shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit. How¡¯s your apprentice?¡±

    Kat closed her eyes and her brow furrowed. ¡°Alive, but still unconscious. The urn really messed her up. Still, she doesn¡¯t have any physical damage so in time she¡¯ll recover.¡±

    Kat didn¡¯t add ¡°hopefully,¡± but Jen heard it in her tone. Despite their disagreements, she clearly cared about the younger woman. Jen hoped they lived long enough to see Amanda wake up.

    An explosion rocked the fortress. That hadn¡¯t taken long. ¡°Is there somewhere we can watch what they¡¯re doing?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°We can peek out one of the second-floor arrow slits.¡± Marie-Bell led the way to the nearby stairs. Kat heaved herself up and followed along behind Jen.

    ¡°Where did you leave Amanda?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°I put her in the first bed I found on the first floor. It was a good-sized room, lots of weapons on the wall.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s Commander Kendy¡¯s room,¡± Marie-Bell said. ¡°I polished those weapons once a week for five years before I was chosen.¡±

    ¡°Any of them enchanted?¡± If the paladins kept holy weapons in the fortress they¡¯d give Jen a better chance if any demons made it inside.

    ¡°They¡¯re just plain steel, sorry. The commander carried our last holy sword. Before that we had a suit of armor and a great sword, but long ago a hero of the Order took them and marched alone into the haunted lands. She never returned. Every so often one of the new paladins quests to recover the relics, but none have ever been seen again.¡±

    They reached the first arrow slit and gathered around to look out. Massive winged demons soared past. They shot bursts of hellfire seemingly at random. A demon that resembled a humanoid toad must have noticed them. It spat hellfire at the arrow slit. Jen flinched back. The black flames splashed against an invisible barrier and dissipated.

    ¡°Can I attack through that?¡± Kat asked.

    Marie-Bell nodded. ¡°The barrier only blocks corrupt energy.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    Kat raised her hand and sent a golden blast streaking at the toad demon. The attack struck it square in the chest and sent it tumbling through the sky. A snap of its wings brought the demon back under control. It flew off, seeming none the worse for wear.

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Kat lowered her hand. ¡°What¡¯s it take to kill one of those things? How¡¯d your brother do it?¡±

    Jen shrugged. She had no idea how Damien did half the things he did. ¡°He wrapped it up in a giant golden serpent then made it explode. When he finished there was nothing left.¡±

    ¡°Look!¡± Marie-Bell pointed out beyond the kingdom-side wall.

    Jen enhanced her sight. ¡°It¡¯s the eastern army. Heaven¡¯s mercy. If they didn¡¯t bring extra sorcerers with them it¡¯ll be a slaughter.¡±

    ¡°They did,¡± Kat said.

    Jen cranked her neck up. Flying above the army were fifty sorcerers led by the archmage herself. Some of the tension drained out of Jen. Maybe they¡¯d live through this after all.

 6.35

    For a moment Lidia stared at the huge demons circling the fortress, at a loss for words. She¡¯d fought demons before of course, but never so many powerful ones all at once. She was starting to wish she¡¯d brought every sorcerer in the kingdom and damn the consequences. Even with fifty of them it would be a close fight. She conjured a viewing construct to get a better look at the blue things surrounding the fortress. Lidia had never seen anything like them.

    They were certainly demonic, she could sense their corruption from here, but they were also inorganic, some sort of animated crystal. Where in the world had Connor found such things?

    ¡°What are those?¡± Zahara had flown up beside Lidia and was looking through her construct.

    ¡°I have no idea. I¡¯ve never seen anything even remotely similar. Best warn the warlords not to bother with edged weapons. I can¡¯t imagine hitting one of those things would do a sword blade any good.¡±

    ¡°Right. Can we beat them?¡±

    ¡°Of course we can.¡± Zahara gave her a doubting look. ¡°We have no other choice. Talk to the general then join us. We have to attack before the demons decide to bring the fight to us.¡±

    Zahara descended to talk to General Gauge. The grizzled warrior hadn¡¯t been thrilled when Lidia told him the bulk of his forces needed to stay out of the fight, but when she explained the nature of the enemy, he¡¯d deferred to her judgment and agreed to keep the regular fighters a safe distance from the pass and form a containing line. He promised not to let a single enemy get past.

    While Lidia appreciated the sentiment, she doubted the whole army could stop even a handful of those crystal constructs. If they got past the warlords the rest of the army was doomed. And if Lidia and her sorcerers couldn¡¯t stop the flying demons the warlords wouldn¡¯t stand a chance.

    ¡°All right everyone, it¡¯s time to show what we¡¯re made of. Fight smart and watch each other¡¯s backs. Let¡¯s get them.¡±

    ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± John asked. ¡°I¡¯d only be a hindrance in a fight with demons.¡±

    ¡°Go to the fortress and make sure Jennifer and the others are okay. They may have need of your talents.¡±

    John nodded. ¡°Will do.¡±

    Lidia strengthened her shield and flew toward the gathered demons. All around her she felt the others doing the same. How many of them would survive this? She feared the answer to that question was not many, but she couldn¡¯t let it stop her. If they failed a lot more people would die, beginning with the eastern army.

    The demons turned from the fortress and raced toward the sorcerers. It always amazed Lidia how ugly the things were. Only once in her career had she seen a beautiful demon and that one had been the toughest fight of her life.

    She dove under a blast of hellfire and countered, burning a hole through the wing of a crocodile-looking brute nearly as wide as it was tall. It spiraled halfway to the ground before the wound healed and it flew into the fray once more. That was why Lidia hated demons: they attacked like sorcerers, but healed like warlords. It wasn¡¯t fair.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    An insect-headed demon grabbed a fair-haired young sorcerer in its taloned hands. Lidia fired a blast at its face, but her attack struck an invisible shield and fizzled.

    The demon ripped the young woman¡¯s head off and dropped to the ground. Lidia snarled and powered toward it. She¡¯d kill this one herself, whatever it took.

    The monster looked content to oblige her. Black wings lashed and it rushed toward her like an avalanche. Hellfire swirled around its outstretched talons.

    Lidia conjured a gold dragon and sent it at the demon. If she could bind it maybe she could land a solid hit. The demon slashed its claws through the air and a wave of hellfire burned her construct to nothing. It flew through the flickering remnants of soul force and plunged toward her.

    Lidia¡¯s eagle dove and it passed over her, missing her head by a good foot. She spun in her chair and sent a blast at its back which was deflected by its shield. Another of her sorcerers¡¯ soul forces vanished from the battlefield. That was the fourth one so far and she still sensed all the demons. They were losing and losing badly.

    Her opponent made a long swooping run before turning back towards her. A gray-haired sorcerer sent a golden sword at it, but the demon obliterated it with a single swipe of its clawed hands.

    Lidia gathered a ball of energy between her hands, compressing it for maximum damage, and hurled it toward the approaching demon. It tried to dodge. She adjusted the orb¡¯s trajectory and struck the demon square in the chest.

    The orb detonated and sent the demon tumbling. Her tight-lipped smile vanished when the smoke cleared, revealing the unharmed demon. Its soul force had diminished, but there wasn¡¯t even a crack in its carapace.

    A giant fist dropped down on its head, driving the demon towards the ground. Zahara flew up beside her. ¡°How about we tag team this monster? I¡¯ll hold it and you hit it with everything you¡¯ve got.¡±

    ¡°Good plan.¡± Lidia compressed more power, draining half her core. If this didn¡¯t kill it they were in worse trouble than she thought.

    The golden fist opened and snatched the demon out of the air. One leg stuck out between the first and second fingers and its head poked out around the thumb. Zahara winced. ¡°Hurry. I can¡¯t hold it for long.¡±

    Lidia hurled her compressed energy blast at the demon¡¯s exposed head. It screamed through the sky and struck. With impeccable timing Zahara detonated her construct at the instant of impact. The combined attack sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield, sending demons and sorcerers alike tumbling like leaves. The mixing of light and dark energy created mist like clouds that obscured the demon¡¯s location.

    ¡°Did we get it?¡± Zahara asked.

    ¡°No.¡± Lidia couldn¡¯t believe it, but the monster had survived. Its soul force was greatly diminished, but she still sensed it. ¡°How much power do you have left?¡±

    ¡°A little over half. You?¡±

    ¡°Nowhere near as much as I¡¯d like.¡±

    A gust of wind dispersed the mist revealing the demon, its black armor cracked and one arm hanging limp by its side.

    ¡°Impressive¡ª¡±

    Lidia blasted it in the head. ¡°Keep attacking. We can¡¯t give it a chance to recover.¡±

    Zahara sent whirling blades of soul force at it. The constructs hacked at the demon¡¯s good arm. Lidia blasted it again and again. She didn¡¯t use a great deal of power with any of them, just enough to keep the demon from concentrating on healing. They had to wear it down. The demon was too strong to take down with a single blow.

    One of the lesser demons, an especially ugly brute that looked like it had possessed a warthog, slammed into Zahara and bore her off into the melee.

    The insectoid demon conjured a dark sphere around its body. Lidia kept attacking, but to no effect, the barrier deflected every blast.

    Desperate now, Lidia surrounded its barrier with a bubble of her own. If she could time it right.

    The black sphere vanished and Lidia detonated her bubble. The demon flew out of the explosion, its black carapace gleaming and injured arm moving freely. Only its vastly weakened soul force gave Lidia a glimmer of hope.

    The demon grabbed one of its allies that resembled a toad and rammed its claws into the creature. Soul force flowed from the toad demon into its captor. In less than a minute the toad demon vanished and the other had mostly restored its core.

    ¡°Shall we go again, mortal?¡±

 6.36

    John flew around the edge of the battle, an invisibility screen the only thing between him and a quick death at the hands of the most horrible group of demons imaginable. The battle was like something out of his worst nightmares. There were times in John¡¯s life when he wished he was stronger, strong enough to take his place on the front lines of a great battle and hold his own. This was not one of those times.

    A demon that resembled a winged ape grabbed a cute brunette by the arms and tore them off before crushing her skull in its massive jaws. He winced and looked away. From the little he¡¯d seen it didn¡¯t look good for his side. He should have more faith. The archmage and a high sorcerer were both out there fighting. Surely they could turn things around.

    John paused when a dwarf demon with tentacles in place of arms flew a little close for comfort. It hovered ten feet from him and appeared to be sniffing the air. He held his breath and silently wished for it to move along.

    A giant gold dragon snatched the demon out of the air and carried it off. John glanced around, trying to figure out who had come to his unknowing rescue, but couldn¡¯t determine which sorcerer had conjured the dragon. Whoever it was he was grateful.

    John waited another second just to be sure. When no other threats presented themselves he flew on towards the fortress. The skies around the fortress were clear of demons, but he didn''t let down his invisibility just yet. He flew around peeking into the arrow slits. When he reached the third one he found Jen looking back out at him.

    ¡°Jen?¡± He let his invisibility fade.

    ¡°John? What are you doing here?¡± she asked.

    ¡°The archmage sent me to check on you guys. Is anyone hurt?¡±

    ¡°Amanda was knocked out and hasn''t woken up yet, but the rest of us are fine.¡±

    John looked all around. ¡°How do I get in?¡±

    A nice-looking blond moved over beside Jen. ¡°The only way in is the main gate.¡±

    John flew around to the front of the fortress. The main gate was surrounded by blue crystal monsters battling a force of warlords. He couldn¡¯t get in that way.

    He went back to the arrow slit. ¡°There''s a huge battle going on out front. They¡¯ll kill me if I go that way.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    The blond shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s still the only way in.¡±

    ¡°What''s happening out there?¡± Jen asked.

    ¡°The eastern army¡¯s warlords are battling whatever those blue crystal things are.¡±

    ¡°How are we doing?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t look that close. What do you want me to do?¡± John asked.

    Jen turned to the other woman. ¡°We need to get out there and help. Will the wards hold if you¡¯re not inside the fortress?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Marie-Bell said. ¡°They¡¯ll reactivate as soon as I close the gate.¡±

    ¡°I can slip in when you guys go out. I¡¯ll check on Amanda and make sure she¡¯s okay. Where¡¯s Kat?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± a rough voice said from further up the hall. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like our sorcerers are doing very well.¡±

    ¡°No. It didn¡¯t look too good when I flew by.¡±

    Kat blew out a sigh. ¡°Guess I¡¯d better go out and lend a hand. Amanda¡¯s on the first floor, second right then a left.¡±

    ¡°Got it. Meet you guys out front. I¡¯m sorry about Damien.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Jen said. ¡°But I¡¯m not giving up on him until someone shows me a body.¡±

    John wrapped himself in invisibility and flew back to the front of the keep. The warlords pounded the crystal constructs with great enthusiasm and speed. The noise was horrendous and the damage negligible. There wasn¡¯t a single broken statue in the yard. There were a handful of dead warlords littering the dirt.

    John landed beside the door and a few seconds later it swung open. Kat flew out followed by Jen and the blond.

    He brushed by Jen and whispered, ¡°Good luck.¡±

    He slipped through the door and it shut a moment later. The interior of the keep was dim so he conjured a small light globe. The main hall was stark in its lack of decoration. Not that John should have been surprised. An order of warrior priests naturally wouldn¡¯t go in for ostentation.

    He followed Kat¡¯s direction to a bedroom that was also part armory. Amanda lay on the bed, her red hair spread over the pillow, not moving, barely even breathing.

    John sat beside her on the edge of the bed and passed his hand over her. Physically she was fine, but her core was empty and the flow of her soul force was disrupted. It reminded him a bit of the time Damien used every drop of his power to blast that dragon. He felt certain she¡¯d make a full recovery in time, but maybe he could hasten things along.

    He nudged her streams of soul force so they ran into her core like they were supposed to. Her core began to fill a fraction at a time. A couple minutes later her eyelids twitched then opened.

    Amanda groaned then noticed him. ¡°I must be dreaming. Or dead. But if I¡¯m dead then you must be dead too. You¡¯re not dead, are you, sweetie-pie?¡±

    ¡°I am not your sweetie-pie.¡±

    Amanda smiled. ¡°I guess I¡¯m not dreaming or dead after all.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Too bad. If I was dreaming you¡¯d be ripping my clothes off now.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re definitely not dreaming. But if things don¡¯t improve soon we might all end up dead. Our side isn¡¯t doing well.¡±

    ¡°What happened? How long was I out?¡±

    ¡°Kat didn¡¯t say how long ago you fell unconscious.¡± John brought her up to date on their situation. ¡°So there you go. Lots of demons everywhere and we¡¯re trapped in here. All we can do now is hope for the best.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go to the arrow slit.¡± Amanda sat up. ¡°The least we can do is cheer them on.¡±

    ¡°Sure, why not?¡± Not only was it the least they could do, it was all they could do.

 6.37

    Lidia glared at the restored demon. It hovered in the air facing her, not even pretending it needed its massive bat wings to fly. While she expected neither honor nor fairness from a demon, Lidia didn¡¯t know her enemy could simply drain one of its own kind like a vampire to regain its strength. That fact put a whole new twist on the current battle. Why were things always so complicated?

    A pencil-thin beam of golden energy lanced out from thin air. The attack shattered on the demon¡¯s shield. It didn¡¯t even bother to move. Arrogant thing.

    Streams of hellfire burst through the air all around Lidia. She flew at full speed, weaving and dodging, trying to stay alive. One of the blasts burned the eagle construct out from under her. She kept going without it. Flying on her own made her a smaller target anyway.

    Lidia hurled a pair of disks made of compressed soul force at the demon. One struck low from behind and the other high in front. The attacks hit the demon¡¯s shield, but instead of exploding they spun, grinding away at the shadowy shield.

    She sent more power to the blades while avoiding unending streams of hellfire. If she could just cut through, there was enough power in those blades to at least crack its shell again. Even a single dent would give her a place to focus her attacks.

    A wave of corrupt energy obliterated her disks and sent Lidia tumbling out of control. She sensed the attack a moment before it arrived and dropped like a stone. The demon¡¯s claws swiped through the air where she¡¯d been an instant before. The proximity of the creature sickened her for a moment then she was clear.

    Lidia sped away, her opponent right on her heels. A wall of hellfire appeared in her path.

    She pulled up, spun and sped straight at her pursuer. Darts of soul force streaked from her fingertips and bounced off its carapace. Its shield was down.

    The demon shrieked and swiped at her as she flew by. Lidia ignored it and fired lances of compressed soul force. Without its shield she might get in a lucky shot.

    All but one lance bounced off its shell. The last found a chink at its elbow and pierced through.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Lidia detonated the energy in the lance, blowing the demon¡¯s right arm off at the elbow. It roared.

    A pillar of hellfire fell toward Lidia. She darted away and strengthened her shield at the same time.

    The skin of the arm and side closest to the flames blistered and blackened even through the barrier. She clenched her jaw against the pain, then she was past.

    Lidia spun, ready to resume the battle. A black talon shot out and grabbed her by the throat.

    How had it closed the distance without her noticing? She shifted all her power to the shield around her neck.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to pop your head off, witch.¡±

    The shield weakened as the demon sent corrupt energy through its talons. This was it. Lidia hadn¡¯t imagined dying in the grasp of a demon, but then who does?

    Her shield cracked and shuddered.

    A few seconds more. Lidia wished she had strength enough to counterattack, but if she drew even a drop of soul force from the shield she¡¯d die in an instant.

    A blade of dense soul force appeared out of nowhere and sliced the demon¡¯s arm off at the wrist. The pressure on her throat vanished.

    Lidia blasted the stunned demon with everything she could muster. It was nowhere near as much as she would have liked, but the demon¡¯s black shell cracked in four places.

    A powerful blast struck the cracked shell, blowing it open and exposing its gut sack. A stream of golden blades sliced into the creature¡¯s innards. Its shriek almost deafened Lidia. She still had a little power left. Golden flames rushed from her outstretched hands and into the demon¡¯s shell. Power surged into a stream of flames then more yet.

    Flames burst from the demon¡¯s eyes and mouth. They didn¡¯t let up until it had been reduced to ash.

    Strong hands grasped Lidia¡¯s shoulders and a platform appeared under her feet. Just as well as she doubted her ability to remain in the air on her own.

    ¡°Apologies for the delay, Archmage,¡± Zahara said. ¡°It took me a while to escape that thing that grabbed me.¡±

    Kat joined them. ¡°I got here as quick as I could. Are you okay, Archmage?¡±

    ¡°Thanks to you two.¡± Lidia winced when Zahara brushed her burns. ¡°How fares the battle?¡±

    They swung her around so she could take a look. Sorcerers and demons chased each other through the sky. Gold and black flames clashed. Lidia tried to count the survivors, but so much movement made it difficult. She decided thirteen demons and thirty-five sorcerers remained. Not especially good odds.

    Healing energy flooded her side and arm, bring blessed relief to her burns. Her power was slowly returning, but there was no way she¡¯d return to full strength without a long rest. Somehow she doubted she¡¯d get it any time soon.

    ¡°What are we going to do?¡± Kat asked.

    Lidia clenched her fist. ¡°The only thing we can do. Fight.¡±

 6.38

    The instant Jen cleared the keep gate she accelerated to warlord speed. Her maces crashed into the nearest crystal statue ten times in a second. Vibrations ran up the hafts and into her arms. She could be pounding granite blocks for all the impression she made on the demons.

    She darted back, evading a rending slash, then back in to pound out another string of worthless attacks. Up and down the line the other warlords were having just as much luck as she was. They had the damn things outnumbered two to one, but it didn¡¯t make any difference if their attacks didn¡¯t do any damage.

    After two more fruitless efforts Jen stepped back. Her opponent turned its attention to a closer warlord who found himself beset on two sides. She grimaced and battered the demon across the back of the head drawing its attention back to her. With quick, darting attacks Jen baited the construct away from the bulk of the battle.

    When she¡¯d drawn it a good twenty feet from the general melee Jen enhanced her vision as far as she could and really studied the crystal demon. It slashed at her, but Jen¡¯s speed was more than enough to keep her safe while she examined its body. They had to have a weakness.

    There! A thin line running around one of the crystal¡¯s facets. It was so faint she couldn¡¯t see it even with normally enhanced sight.

    Jen ducked a slash, darted in, and hammered the line. A thin spiderweb of cracks formed before repairing themselves. So she could damage them after all. Now she just had to break them faster than they healed.

    Jen struck the same spot once, twice, three times in rapid succession.

    The cracks spread and grew wider.

    She was doing it. Her maces struck over and over in the same place.

    Chips flew and crimson light showed through the gaps.

    Almost there. A chunk the size of her fist broke out and went flying. The head of her mace went through the opening.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.The demon shuddered and exploded. Jen went sprawling across the dirt and rolled to her feet, a fierce grin on her face. She knew how to beat them now. They weren¡¯t invincible, just really tough.

    She sent soul force into her voice box and lungs then shouted as loud as she could. ¡°Enhance your sight. Find the fracture lines. Strike the same point as hard and fast as you can.¡±

    Jen¡¯s enhanced voice rang out over the battlefield even louder than the sounds of fighting. She¡¯d told them how, now all she could do is hope they had the strength to do what she said. And where was Marie-Bell? The paladin was nowhere to be seen.

    She couldn¡¯t worry about it. Jen chose another target and went to work.

    Now that she knew what to look for, finding the fault line was really easy. She managed three solid hits before an attack from her left forced her to spin and batter a claw aside. She spun back and found all the damage she¡¯d caused already restored.

    Damn it! One on one she knew she could handle any of them, but with enemies on her flanks she couldn¡¯t focus, not if she wanted to stay alive.

    An explosion down the line told her someone had heard what she said. The very human scream that followed made her wince. Jen sometimes forgot that not all warlords were as fast as her. It was far too easy to get ripped to shreds if you made even the smallest mistake.

    Another scream followed the first then Jen was too busy fending off a trio of statues to even think about landing a blow of her own, much less listen for the deaths of more comrades. This was impossible. Fighting so many at once left you vulnerable. They needed to separate them from the army and attack one on one.

    ¡°Skirmish line!¡± Jen shouted at full volume. ¡°Don¡¯t attack, just hold them back.¡±

    It was a credit to their training that the warlords immediately moved to obey her command. Whether their commander was desperate or dead, no one countermanded her order.

    Jen held her breath and watched. Slowly, with much shouting and smashing, shoving and shuffling, the warlords formed a line free of gaps with all the crystal demons in front of it. She waited half a minute before she felt certain they¡¯d hold.

    Now for phase two. ¡°Center line, gap.¡±

    Four warlords in the middle of the line stepped back and to the side; their heavy iron hammers never stopped moving. They batted aside claws and fanged mouths until a single construct had forced its way through the opening.

    Jen charged in and began battering it before it could slash at the warlords¡¯ exposed backs. ¡°Close gap!¡± she shouted between blows.

    The warlords shifted again, sealing the opening. Jen drew the construct a handful of steps from the line and began her attack. Her maces sounded like a mad drummer as she pounded its weak spot. A minute later it exploded. This time Jen had braced herself and didn¡¯t end up on the ground.

    She wiped the sweat from her forehead. Only a hundred or so to go.

 6.39

    Morana floated, invisible, above the rear of her line. She felt the leader of the demons die and couldn¡¯t have suppressed a smile if she¡¯d wanted to. Even though they were supposed to be on the same side she was tired of the arrogant creature mocking her, laughing when he called her general. She still sensed plenty of demons out beyond the wall. The loss of the strongest didn¡¯t doom the rest. The monsters only followed the dead one out of fear anyway. Now that they were in the fight they¡¯d keep killing because they were demons and that¡¯s what they did.

    Her focus turned back to her own troops where it belonged. The crystal demons held their own nicely against a superior force of warlords. The elite warriors were fast and strong, but they couldn¡¯t hurt her soldiers no mater how much they battered them. Every minute or two one of the warlords went down under the claws of a demon. It wouldn¡¯t happen quickly, but eventually her servants would wear the warlords down and finish them off, assuming the speedy fighters didn¡¯t decide to run for their lives.

    A painful jolt ran through the ring and up her arm. So, they¡¯d managed to destroy one of her demons. It had to happen at some point. She still had over a hundred left, more than enough to handle whatever threats presented themselves.

    Another jolt brought a frown. The destruction of one could be chalked up to luck, but two in such a short time¡­She didn¡¯t like the feel of that.

    The enemy fighters shifted, forming a tight defensive line. A familiar female form stood behind them, barking orders. As she watched, an opening formed and one of her soldiers slipped through. It almost looked intentional, but why would they let an enemy get behind their line?

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.Her answer came a moment later when the female warlord lunged in and started battering her construct, drawing it away from the line. As Morana watched the warlord smashed her soldier apart until it eventually exploded.

    She didn¡¯t believe it. How could a single warlord defeat one of her crystal demons? If it had been the paladin Morana could have accepted it. The holy warrior had already destroyed one of her soldiers after all, but that one, using nothing but ordinary weapons? Impossible.

    Impossible or not, another demon was separated and destroyed in the span of several minutes. The woman had obviously discovered some weakness both Morana and Connor had overlooked. She needed to kill the warlord before she did any more damage to the army. Morana doubted a single warlord could destroy over a hundred demons, but she might do enough damage that the plan would be delayed, giving the kingdom time to increase its defenses. That wasn¡¯t an eventuality she wanted to explain to Connor.

    Morana soared down, gathering hellfire as she descended. She¡¯d burn the warlord to ash. The woman wouldn¡¯t know what hit her.

    A ball of roiling black flames streaked toward the warlord. Halfway there they splashed against a white shield. The paladin¡¯s hated voice said, ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you to show yourself.¡±

    Morana spun and found the blond paladin seated on a white horse twenty feet away and thirty feet in the air. Her hammer glowed with white light and from the set of her jaw she looked ready for a fight. Morana was happy to oblige.

 6.40

    From the moment Marie-Bell followed Jen out of the keep gate she knew what she had to do. The warlords could handle the crystal demons, hopefully. What they couldn¡¯t deal with was the female warlock. She had to be here somewhere and when she showed herself Marie-Bell planned to be ready.

    A conjured mount appeared and Marie-Bell wrapped both of them in invisibility before taking to the air. She couldn¡¯t detect any sign of the warlock, but she¡¯d show herself sooner or later. She was probably invisible, like Marie-Bell herself. She flew over the melee, wincing when one warlord after another fell under the claws of the crystal demons. As badly as she wanted to help there was only so much a single paladin could do. She might blow away one, maybe two of the constructs, then she¡¯d be helpless for hours. No, better if she kept alert for the warlock.

    A burst of corruption drew her attention to the battlefield. Jen had found a way to destroy the demons. She directed the warlords, making order out of the chaotic battle. Marie-Bell smiled at her friend¡¯s leadership abilities. Jen was a natural, people followed her instinctively.

    Another demon shattered. It wouldn¡¯t be long now. The warlock couldn¡¯t allow her troops to be wiped out.

    Sure enough, less than a minute later, corrupt energy gathered in the sky above the battlefield. It seemed to come from nowhere, but when a black ball appeared and roared at Jen the warlock became visible as well.

    Marie-Bell conjured a shield above Jen and the hellfire splashed against it. The warlock spun to face her. Marie-Bell tensed her jaw. It was time for her battle to begin.

    The warlock agreed. Black serpents flowed from her hands, lengthening and growing thicker as more and more power ran into them.

    First one then the other snapped at Marie-Bell. She bashed them aside, her holy energy smashing chunks out of them with every impact. The damage didn¡¯t last.

    Corrupt energy flowed and repaired the constructs as fast as she could hit them. The right-hand serpent darted in.

    She brought her hammer around. An instant before it struck the serpent split, revealing a second head.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.The one she targeted vanished in a cloud of sulfurous smoke, but the second clamped on to her leg. Her armor stopped its fangs from piercing her skin, but the pressure brought a snarl to her lips.

    The second serpent dove in, taking advantage of her predicament. Marie-Bell ignored the one trying to gnaw through her armor and hammered the second with a burst of holy light. It was blown away in an instant. She ran a second pulse through her body and blew away the second serpent.

    Marie-Bell charged the warlock. The slender woman wouldn¡¯t last long once she brought her hammer to bear directly. A single blow would crush her to pulp.

    The warlock fled, leading Marie-Bell a merry chase through the sky above the battlefield. A corner of Marie-Bell¡¯s mind registered the deaths of warlords and the destruction of demons, far too many of the former for the number of the latter.

    If she killed the one controlling them, maybe Marie-Bell could turn the tide. Unfortunately the warlock showed no sign of tiring as she evaded Marie-Bell¡¯s attempts to close the distance. She couldn¡¯t keep this up forever. Eventually the demons would overwhelm her allies and it wouldn¡¯t matter if she killed the warlock or not.

    Marie-Bell sent more power into her mount and put on a burst of speed. She covered the distance between her and the warlock in a blink.

    Her hammer went back then hurtled forward.

    The warlock spun and grabbed the haft, stopping her swing dead.

    The pale witch sneered in her face. ¡°Thought I was too weak to fight face to face, bitch?¡±

    The warlock breathed a gout of hellfire in Marie-Bell¡¯s face. She flinched away from the black flames. The warlock ripped her hammer from her grasp and flung it away.

    A small fist struck Marie-Bell in the face, snapping her head back with enough force the blow might as well have come from an ogre.

    How could such a tiny woman be so strong?

    A second blow crashed into her armored torso. A rib snapped, drawing a pained gasp.

    A third punch raced for her face. Marie-Bell charged her gauntleted fist with power and swung.

    The impact sent her flying back, mount and all. When Marie-Bell got herself under control she found the warlock clutching the ruins of her hand. The fingers were twisted every way but straight.

    Before her opponent could recover Marie-Bell blasted her again with focused holy energy. The stream of light hit a black wall. The two opposing energies swirled and fought before bursting in a shower of gray sparks.

    The warlock dove toward the melee, disappearing amidst the churning statues. Marie-Bell muttered a very un-paladin-like curse and directed healing energy to her face, rib, and leg. The pain soon faded.

    She flew towards Jen¡¯s side of the line, pausing long enough to collect her hammer. No way the warlock would show herself again. And if she did attack Marie-Bell could still protect Jen while she smashed some statues.

 6.41

    Damien.

    He floated in comfort and warmth. A gentle peace filled every inch of his body. Nothing hurt. It seemed he couldn¡¯t remember a time when nothing hurt.

    Damien.

    That was his name. Damien knew that voice, loved it. Why was the one he loved trying to pull him back to pain and violence? That didn¡¯t seem right. She should join him. They could enjoy the peace together.

    DAMIEN!

    He blinked and stared at the stone ceiling. Green light stained everything, making the stone appear covered in moss. He still didn¡¯t hurt as he floated in the warm water, that was a welcome surprise. Damien put his feet down and stood up. The water came just to his chest.

    A horrible screeching, like nails on slate, filled the cavern. ¡°What is that?¡±

    I¡¯ve been trying to tell you for the past half hour. The demon wolves have almost dug through the stone sealing the cavern.

    Damien shook his head, trying to dislodge the last of his peaceful dream. Heaven¡¯s mercy, it would have been nice to stay in the pool for a week or two. Lizzy lay on top of his clothes where he¡¯d left her.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.He turned his attention inward. His core was full and his soul force was flowing correctly. That was a relief. Damien climbed out of the pool, vaporized the water covering him with a burst of soul force, and restored his shield.

    As he dressed he asked, ¡°Is your soul force restored?¡±

    Yeah, I¡¯m good to go. Like I said, without a body I¡¯m less susceptible than you to physical damage. Are you okay?

    ¡°Yes, the pool did wonders.¡± He picked Lizzy up and slipped her into his harness. ¡°How long was I out?¡±

    Time¡¯s a little hazy down here, but I¡¯d say a day and a half, maybe two.

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s mercy! It felt like minutes, or an hour at most.¡±

    The scratching got louder. Damien drew power and formed a spear of energy that floated at his shoulder. It felt good to use his power again. Not as good as it would feel to slice Lizzy through Connor¡¯s neck, but still good.

    A wolf¡¯s head made of blue crystal broke through the rock pile. Damien hurled the spear at it. The spear skewered the wolf from nose to tail. The construct exploded in a burst of corruption. Damien smiled. How wonderfully satisfying, and if his restored senses weren¡¯t lying to him, there were eight more out there to smash.

    As if reading his mind another wolf appeared in the tunnel. It lunged out just in time for a golden hammer to crush it to bits.

    Don¡¯t hog all the fun.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡±

    Damien drew Lizzy, mingled their power, and slashed at the rubble pile. The blockage burst outward, scattering stone and constructs a hundred yards down the tunnel. The remaining constructs scrambled to their feet just in time to get blasted with focused beams of gray flame. They all shattered, filling the tunnel with a sulfurous miasma. Blasting the things was like stepping on stink bugs.

    ¡°We¡¯re all out of wolves.¡±

    There¡¯s still Connor.

    ¡°There certainly is.¡± Damien looked left and right. ¡°Any idea how we get back to him?¡±

 6.42

    Connor paused in his gathering of the meager energy provided by his remaining prisoners. All his hunters had died in rapid succession. He rubbed the Soul Burn Crystal as he thought and it gave off a few desultory sparks as if to show its disappointment with the meal he was providing. Clearly the demon wolves had found their prey, or more accurately their prey had found them. What Connor didn¡¯t understand was how the boy had recovered so quickly. The crystal¡¯s effects should have left him incapacitated for weeks. Perhaps the demon sword had recovered and he was using its power. Connor had no idea how the crystal would affect a spirit.

    ¡°Troubles, oh mighty warlock?¡± The imp in the mirror cackled.

    Speaking of difficult to deal with spirits. He would have dearly loved to test the crystal on the mirror demon, but it was only a window into hell not a proper portal, and demonic energy wouldn¡¯t serve his purposes anyway. He doubted he could draw so much as a drop of useful soul force out of the stupid creature.

    ¡°No, my prisoner is returning to surrender.¡±

    ¡°Ha! If that¡¯s true I¡¯ll never speak another word.¡±

    That statement was enough to make Connor wish his jest had been true. But a jest it remained. There was no way Damien would allow himself to be captured again, and since Connor only had one urn he wouldn¡¯t be able to overwhelm the boy. Pity to kill him; Connor would never find a power source as potent as Damien. Still, at least dead he would no longer be a threat, and there were sorcerers aplenty in the world. He¡¯d just have to replace quality with quantity.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    He tested the energy gathered in the crystal, almost enough for a final summoning before the battle. What shape should his final ally take? Connor smiled when the obvious answer came.

    He concentrated and crystal grew out of the floor, flowing into an armored figure wielding a large sword. Pity it wasn¡¯t black, but the construct was a fair likeness of the late Mikhail Santen. The crystal demon wouldn¡¯t have nearly the power of the true black knight, but maybe its appearance would give Damien a moment¡¯s pause; the two of them had fought often enough after all.

    The collected soul force reached sufficient levels and he sent it pouring into the portal over his head. Black lightning struck the crystal Mikhail. The crystal shifted as the demon spirit made itself at home. It didn¡¯t alter the basic shape too much which pleased Connor.

    When the corrupt energy had fully integrated with the crystal lattice he ordered it to take up position at the entrance of the cavern. A rather feeble first line of defense, but it was something. Connor flew down to the bottom level, retrieved his urn from a narrow niche he¡¯d carved in the cavern wall, and flew back up to the prisoners¡¯ level. The soft-hearted boy would certainly pause to rescue them. That would be the perfect time for Connor to strike.

    He drew dark power from his core and shaped a little trap for Damien. The boy would never see it coming.

 6.43

    ¡°I think we¡¯re lost.¡± Damien turned back after reaching the third dead end since leaving the earth force chamber. All the tunnels looked the same and he¡¯d been so out of it when he escaped he¡¯d totally lost track of the way back. Now they were rambling from tunnel to cave to dead end. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be this hard to find a giant cavern filled with blue crystal.¡±

    I know right where it is. That much corrupt energy is impossible to miss. I just don¡¯t know how to get there.

    ¡°Knowing where it is, but not how to get there isn¡¯t very useful.¡± He retraced his steps back to what he thought was the main passage¡ªat least it was the biggest. Tunnels branched off left and right along its whole length. ¡°How far would you say it is?¡±

    Not more than a quarter mile.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I think, but we¡¯ve gone at least half a mile already. I have a new plan.¡±

    I don¡¯t like the sound of that.

    He strode down the main passage, slowly gathering and mixing his power with Lizzy¡¯s. The corruption moved closer and closer until he reached yet another dead end. It was right beyond that wall. He knew it.

    I¡¯m not sure this is a good idea, Damien.

    Damien didn¡¯t know if it was either, but he was so sick of hunting for the path he no longer cared if the whole mountain came crashing down on him as long as he escaped these miserable tunnels. He sent power to his shield just in case and slashed Lizzy at the wall.

    A wave of gold and gray flames rushed out and crashed into the stone. The tunnel shook at the impact. A boulder the size of his head bounced off his shield along with many smaller stones. When the dust cleared he caught a glimpse of blue crystal through the jagged hole he¡¯d blasted in the wall. The opening wasn¡¯t huge, but he thought he could wriggle through.

    So much for sneaking up on him.

    ¡°Funny. Do you think Connor wouldn¡¯t know we were coming?¡±

    I suppose not. It doesn¡¯t matter now anyway.

    Damien ducked down, twisted and pulled, smashed a particularly difficult chunk of rock to dust, and finally emerged into the crystal chamber. He craned his head around. Nothing looked familiar.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.This isn¡¯t where we left.

    He looked down, the lowest level was below them. No wonder he couldn¡¯t find the exit tunnel. They had somehow gone up a level. Below them an armored figure made of blue crystal guarded the tunnel they were supposed to emerge from. It was an uncanny likeness of Mikhail.

    ¡°Seems as though you¡¯re not the only one with a sense of humor.¡± Damien leveled Lizzy and a pulse of combined energy blew the statue to shards. ¡°They¡¯re not so tough when we¡¯re at full strength.¡±

    That one was especially weak. Connor must not be getting enough power from his remaining prisoners.

    ¡°Speaking of which, we¡¯d better go free the others.¡±

    Damien focused all his senses, but detected no sign of Connor. The overwhelming power of the crystal overshadowed everything. He hoped that meant Connor couldn¡¯t sense him either, but he feared he wouldn¡¯t be that lucky.

    He flew over and landed on the crystal path. Crouching down he eased his way further along, Lizzy leading and charged with soul force. His steps made no noise as he edged closer to where the prisoners hung.

    ¡°You needn¡¯t try being sneaky.¡± Connor¡¯s voice came from a little ways ahead. ¡°I can sense every move you make. Your mortal soul force makes a stark contrast to the background of corruption. It seems my guardian didn¡¯t impress you.¡±

    Damien sighed and stepped away from the wall. There was no sense hiding now. He strode boldly up the ramp and found Connor standing beside Eli, a curved dagger at his friend¡¯s throat.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t find the real Mikhail especially impressive, that fake you made was more pathetic yet.¡±

    Connor barked a laugh. ¡°What a blunt young man and durable too. I can hardly believe you¡¯re still moving, much less fully recovered.¡±

    ¡°How about you step away from my friend and I¡¯ll show you just how recovered I am.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Surrender and I¡¯ll spare him.¡±

    Damien frowned.

    Lizzy brought him into her psychic world for a moment, enabling them to talk without Connor overhearing. ¡°What do you want to do?¡±

    ¡°Can you use just your power to move him aside? He might not notice if my soul force isn¡¯t mixed in.¡±

    ¡°I can try. I don¡¯t have much strength when I act alone.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to do much. Just give Eli a little breathing room. The minute you do I¡¯ll blast Connor to smithereens.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Damien was back in his body. Less than a heartbeat had passed. ¡°I¡¯m not going to surrender. The second you put so much as a mark on my friend I¡¯m going to blow you to pieces. Eli would understand that sacrifices are sometimes necessary for the greater good.¡±

    Connor laughed again. ¡°Generous of you to volunteer him.¡±

    A hand of gray flame struck Connor¡¯s arm and pushed the knife blade clear of Eli. Damien lashed out with a massive blast. He struck Connor full in the chest. The warlock dissipated into a cloud of black mist.

    Son of a bitch, a construct!

    A breath of air brushed Damien¡¯s cheek. He dropped flat just as a burst of black lightning shot over his head. Damien rolled off the walkway and flew around the bend. Connor stood holding one of the urns a little further up the path. That had to be the real one. A construct wouldn¡¯t have enough soul force to control the urn¡¯s power.

    Connor shifted his aim, forcing Damien to fly away or get blasted. He landed on a higher level where an outcropping protected him from Connor¡¯s lightning.

    Now that he had a moment to breathe Damien wasn¡¯t certain what to do. Connor would blast him the moment he tried to move and he couldn¡¯t escape without exposing himself to the urn.

    Damien grinned when the solution came to him.

 6.44

    Morana ducked down amidst her army and cradled her damaged hand. She hated that paladin. When they finally won Morana would take great pleasure in cutting her heart out. Healing soul force eased her pain and repaired her mangled fingers. Demonic soul force was so much more useful than her old power. Much as she hated the woman it was impossible to deny her power. She made a worthy adversary. Maybe too worthy. Another jolt ran up her arm when a construct exploded.

    Damn it!

    First things first. She needed to take direct control of her soldiers and prevent them from walking into the warlords¡¯ trap. The constructs were far stupider than she¡¯d first hoped. Their power compensated for a lot of weaknesses, but right now their lack of intelligence was what was getting them smashed.

    She ordered four demons to form a screen around her, conjured an invisible viewing orb, and sent it up to have a look. As she watched the warlords made a gap, just like earlier, and one of the moron constructs walked right through it where the warlord and now paladin as well waited. Well, we¡¯ll see about that.

    Morana concentrated on her connection with the demon and ordered it to turn and slaughter the warlords on the line. The crystal soldier obediently turned, rammed razor sharp claws into the back of the nearest warlord, and ripped his spine out.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The paladin rushed in and blasted the demon to shards while the line shifted to close the gap. One for one and Morana doubted the paladin could do that very many times. She just hoped the warlords were dumb enough to try the same trick again.

    A minute passed and the line held, unmoving. It seems they didn¡¯t plan to make the same mistake twice. Pity, but that was what happened when you fought smart opponents. Morana would have to seize the initiative. She ordered her remaining eighty constructs to form a wedge and smash through the enemy lines.

    Mindlessly the demons formed up behind Big Eye who had somehow made it through the battle so far. Big Eye hit a warlord and trampled him under foot. More of the enemy fighters stacked up two and three deep to try and stop the charging mass of demons.

    Big Eye bogged down for a second, but the press of demons behind it soon forced the warlords back. Strong as they were, the warlords weren¡¯t enough to stop the concentrated mass of her soldiers. Three warlords went down and were promptly torn to pieces.

    Morana smiled. She was winning. The blond warlord shouted something and her enemies all seemed to vanish. The field was hers for now. At her command the constructs halted and formed a defensive circle. She made her way to the center of the formation and took up position. It was clear now that she needed to be ready to adjust to the enemy¡¯s tactics directly. It wouldn¡¯t surprise her if those sneaky warlords circled back and counterattacked immediately. Well, let them. Her forces were ready to spill some more blood.

 6.45

    ¡°Gap!¡± Jen shouted. She was running on the last drops of her soul force, but she¡¯d managed to destroy over twenty of the crystal demons while keeping the losses in the front line to a minimum. It was a relief to have Marie-Bell back beside her. She¡¯d caught an occasional glimpse of the paladin and warlock battling through the skies.

    The warlords shifted, opening their line to allow a demon through. It hadn¡¯t taken more than a single step before it twisted and ripped a warlord nearly in half.

    That was new. They had always come straight for Jen before this. Marie-Bell rushed over and smashed the demon to pieces with a single blow. The demons were moving as well. Instead of a long narrow line they fell back then in behind a single construct in a narrow wedge.

    Jen didn¡¯t even have to give an order for the warlords to change their formation to meet it. They stacked up, eight across and fifteen deep. At a moment like this Jen wished more warlords used shields. If any of them lived through this she¡¯d have to make a suggestion to the masters at The Citadel to include more defensive training.

    The opposing forces came together with a thunderous crash. For a moment the warlords held then the demons pushed them back. First one then a handful of warlords fell under the demons¡¯ claws. She shook her head. They couldn¡¯t fight head to head like this. The enemy was too strong.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Fall back! Regroup behind the keep,¡± she said.

    The warlords accelerated, there one second and gone the next. When the last one disappeared she and Marie-Bell joined them. They all paused behind the keep, some gasping for breath, others clenching wounds they didn¡¯t have enough soul force to heal.

    They were proud warriors one and all, but the majority had reached their limit. If they¡¯d had a day to rest Jen wouldn¡¯t have hesitated to take them back into battle. As it was, going back after the constructs was suicide.

    ¡°What now?¡± Marie-Bell asked.

    ¡°We need a new position. Somewhere they can¡¯t come at us from every direction.¡±

    ¡°Why not just flee and take up the fight another day?¡±

    ¡°If we lose the pass every nasty thing in the haunted lands will come pouring through. Packs of ghouls, zombies, minor demons, you name it. Things that wouldn¡¯t cause you or I a moment¡¯s grief, but could slaughter an entire village of regular citizens.¡± The other warlords had gathered around to listen. ¡°We have to hold them here. Everyone¡¯s counting on us. If we can last until the sorcerers finish with the flying demons they¡¯ll make short work of these things. Many lives are depending on us. Will we let them down?¡±

    ¡°NO!¡± everyone shouted in unison.

    ¡°Damn right we won¡¯t. Everyone up on the wall. I¡¯ll take ten volunteers to hold the gate.¡±

    Every hand went up forcing her to choose who she wanted. Jen couldn¡¯t have been more proud. She took Marie-Bell and nine more around their age. Men and women she thought most unlikely to have families.

    Crystal constructs poured around either side of the keep. This was it. They¡¯d make the monsters pay for every inch.

 6.46

    Lidia flew behind a demon that resembled a melted candle with eight flailing tentacles and a single central eye and blasted it before it could reel in a captured sorcerer. The bound woman flew away and Lidia got clear before a bout of hellfire blazed through the space she just vacated. The wound on the demon¡¯s back healed in a second before it flew off to find new prey.

    She was down five more sorcerers, three injured, one totally drained of soul force, and one dead. The enemy hadn¡¯t lost an individual since Lidia killed the bug-headed leader. It wasn¡¯t looking good and she couldn¡¯t think of anything to do about it. Her first thought was to simply fly away and collect reinforcements, but that would take a day at least, and by the time they returned the eastern army would be nothing but corpses. The demons that crossed over from the haunted lands had proved to be far stronger than she¡¯d ever imagined. Even the weakest one was easily a match for any four of her sorcerers.

    ¡°Archmage.¡± Zahara paused beside her. Blood dripped from a shallow wound on the outside of her left thigh. ¡°It¡¯s not looking good.¡±

    Lidia sealed Zahara¡¯s wound with a little burst of soul force. It wasn¡¯t proper healing, but at least the bleeding had stopped.

    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t. I¡¯m open to suggestions.¡±

    Zahara stared at her. That had obviously not been what she expected to hear. At this point Lidia would have listened to a good idea from one of the demons; unfortunately none of the remaining creatures appeared interested in conversation.

    ¡°What about the fortress? Can we fall back there and make a stand?¡± Zahara asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a terrible idea. Watch my back while I check on the warlords.¡±

    Lidia spun toward the pass and conjured a viewing construct. The moment it appeared she winced. The warlords had been pushed back to the western wall and were barely holding against the crystal creatures. There was no safe harbor to be found there.

    A scream rang out as a young woman was blackened by hellfire. There was no safe harbor here either. Maybe if they pooled their resources with the surviving warlords, destroy as many demons as they could before they were all killed.

    Her face twisted in a bitter grimace. That wasn¡¯t the most optimistic line of thought. Her eyes widened. Maybe there was another way.

    ¡°Zahara, contact everyone and have them join up with the warlords on the wall. Have all but five put up a defensive barrier overhead. Have the others wipe out the crystal monsters as fast as they can. You lead the attackers.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Zahara sent a blade of soul force scything into the ribs of a twisted goblin demon. ¡°What are you going to do?¡±

    ¡°Keep an eye out for surprises. Go!¡±

    Zahara set about conjuring small message orbs. Lidia watched for demons, but most of them seemed to have realized her and Zahara were the strongest and they kept their distance. That was both a blessing and a curse. It gave her a moment to replenish her soul force, but it subjected her weaker subordinates to more attackers.

    The orbs went out to their intended recipients and in twos and threes everyone started flying backwards toward the western wall. They all gathered together and pooled their power to conjure a dense shield. Hellfire splashed off it and several of the madder demons bounced clear when they charged bodily into it.

    Below them warlords fought a desperate battle to prevent the crystal demons from either climbing up the wall or charging up one of the two staircases to reach the battlements. Lidia frowned. They were too spread out. She blasted the northern staircase, sending a handful of demons crashing to the ground. There, that would slow them a bit on that side.

    Should she blast the southern staircase as well? No, maybe the enemy commander would funnel the bulk of her forces that way, making them easier targets. That was probably wishful thinking, but they could use a bit of good luck, heaven knew they¡¯d had enough bad.

    Lidia and Zahara landed on the battlements. When the others reached the wall the shield shifted, forming a bubble that wrapped around the top of the wall to protect the warlords and surviving sorcerers from airborne attacks. So far so good. Up above the demons blasted away at the shield, but without concentrating their hellfire in a single spot it would take them a long time to burn through. Thank heaven for the demons¡¯ inability to work together. That weakness might just save all their lives.

    Explosions sounded down on the ground as Zahara and her team turned their attacks on the crystal demons. Most of the energy blasts were turned aside by the demons¡¯ crystal skin. While the rain of destruction continued Lidia scanned the area for Jennifer. She hadn¡¯t seen Damien¡¯s sister since they landed. Hopefully nothing had happened to the young woman. With Damien gone and Fredric dead she felt oddly protective of his sister.

    She felt holy energy from the area of the gatehouse. When Lidia traced it to its source she spotted a single paladin fighting with eight warlords, one of which was Jennifer. Thank heaven, she was still alive. Alive and hard pressed. A force of demons was attempting to smash their way past the warlords and out the gate. Only the narrowness of the gate kept them from being totally overwhelmed. And even with that advantage they couldn¡¯t hold out long.

    Lidia drew deep from her near-empty core and hurled a sphere of destructive energy at the massed demons. It exploded and sent them flying. The warlords seized the moment and rushed out, bashing the fallen constructs at a blinding pace. One after another they exploded.

    A warlord went down with his leg severed at the knee. The paladin dragged him back into the gatehouse. The rest paid no attention and kept pounding. Lidia flew down to lend a hand.

 6.47

    Damien put the final touches on his construct and stepped back. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    An excellent likeness. Even the soul force matches.

    He nodded. That had been the hardest part, dividing his soul force as well as the sustaining flow exactly in half. If Connor noticed any difference the trick wouldn¡¯t work.

    A blast of corrupt energy shook the platform where he stood. Time to stop fooling around.

    He sent his construct to fly around behind Connor then went the opposite way for a direct attack. Damien swooped down below Connor¡¯s level while the decoy came in from above. Come on, damn you, take the bait.

    Damien sensed the black lightning gathering a moment before it streaked down at him. He just managed to twist aside. Even a near miss stripped a portion of the power from Damien¡¯s shield.

    Before Connor could adjust his aim the construct slammed into him. Unlike Connor¡¯s decoy, Damien¡¯s was dense enough to hit hard.

    The warlock staggered.

    Damien flew up and swung Lizzy at the urn. The foul thing went flying across the cavern.

    His back cut should have taken Connor¡¯s head off, but instead struck a dark shield harder than steel. The vibration numbed Damien¡¯s fingers.

    Damien¡¯s construct had Connor wrapped up, but even though he couldn¡¯t move he still wielded his power with no trouble.

    Corrupt soul force gathered. Damien read the flow and reclaimed the power in his decoy a moment before a massive burst of hellfire would have blown it away. The influx of power instantly repaired his shield and refilled his core.

    Damien drew deep and sent a dense blade of soul force screaming at Connor. The warlock blocked it but went flying across the cavern. Connor used the momentum to flee up to the top level.

    After a moment¡¯s thought Damien flew back to the prisoners. Everyone was still breathing, though they all looked gaunt. He tapped each person¡¯s restraints with Lizzy¡¯s tip and shattered the bindings with a small burst of soul force.

    One by one each prisoner slumped to the floor. When he¡¯d freed them all Damien wrapped the group in a protective barrier and sent a stream of soul force to maintain it.

    Are you sure? You might miss that bit of power when we catch up to him.

    Damien wasn¡¯t sure about much, but he couldn¡¯t let the other sorcerers die if he could help it. Without the threat of the urn he felt pretty good about his chances of defeating Connor. His master would probably snort and say something about the arrogance of youth. Luckily she wasn¡¯t here to see him do something potentially stupid.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    If you get yourself killed I swear I¡¯ll tell her.

    Damien put a hand to his heart. ¡°Cold-hearted woman. Don¡¯t worry. I won¡¯t be leaving you anytime soon. Let¡¯s go get him.¡±

    He conjured a second shield with enough power to turn aside anything he could imagine Connor sending his way. The third level was empty so Damien continued on to the top. A small doorway shaped from crystal, barely big enough for a single person to pass through, waited at the top. An ominous aura radiated from the room beyond.

    Connor had to be in there, but Damien couldn¡¯t separate him from the corruption that filled the air. What was causing that aura?

    It¡¯s a hell gate. What you feel is a fragment of the true power of hell.

    Damien¡¯s face twisted. ¡°And you used to live there. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    He charged Lizzy¡¯s blade and stepped through the narrow opening. The room beyond was pure crystal with a pedestal in the center. Connor stood beside it, his hand resting on a slightly darker piece of crystal protruding out of the pedestal, his head thrown back so he could stare into the swirling black void that covered the ceiling. He wore an ecstatic look unlike anything Damien had ever seen.

    Damien shuddered. What in the world was Connor doing?

    Whatever it was it couldn¡¯t be anything good. He slashed Lizzy in the warlock¡¯s direction, releasing the stored energy in her blade. The wave of soul force struck an unseen barrier and blew apart, sending golden motes drifting around the chamber as they winked out.

    That blast would have killed an average demon, but Connor didn¡¯t even blink. In fact it didn¡¯t look to Damien like he was breathing.

    Damien extended Lizzy and took a step. He found nothing. Another step then a third, still nothing. On the fourth step she hit what felt like a solid wall, but there was nothing there. What was he supposed to do now?

    A deranged cackle drew Damien¡¯s attention to his left. A black mirror hung on the wall and a blurry figure stared at him from its hazy depths.

    It¡¯s an imp, Damien. Trust nothing it says.

    Damien hardly needed the warning. The ugly thing had to be a demon of some sort. Connor didn¡¯t look to be going anywhere and Damien seemed unable to attack so he walked over to the mirror.

    ¡°Who are you, another of Connor¡¯s minions?¡±

    The imp huffed. ¡°Hardly. I serve the great King Alexious and sometimes the master himself.¡±

    ¡°The master? You mean the Horned One?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a smart one. Did you figure that out all by yourself or did your tame spirit tell you?¡±

    Lizzy¡¯s anger radiated through her hilt. Damien was tempted to smash the mirror on the spot, but he wanted to see if the creature knew anything useful.

    ¡°I deduced it from the company you keep. Speaking of which¡­¡± Damien jerked a thumb towards Connor. ¡°What¡¯s he up to?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a surprise.¡±

    ¡°A surprise?¡±

    ¡°Mmmm. I fear you won¡¯t like it. You¡¯re about to meet the master. Have fun.¡± The imp vanished.

    ¡°Did you understand that?¡±

    I assume it was implying that Connor was summoning the Horned One himself. That¡¯s impossible. Even if Connor sent the entire planet¡¯s soul force through the portal it wouldn¡¯t be enough to allow a demon lord to pass through.

    ¡°Then what?¡±

    A tremor shook the chamber and Connor howled. Black mist drifted down from the portal and entered the warlock¡¯s eyes, ears, and mouth. His face contorted in paroxysms of mingled rage and pain.

    Damien risked slamming Lizzy into the invisible barrier to no more effect than the earlier blast. Whatever was happening they were nothing but observers for the moment.

 6.48

    Connor¡¯s flesh warped and flowed like clay in a master sculptor¡¯s hands. Long, curved horns grew out of his head, his arms and legs elongated, but his body remained the same, making him look completely out of proportion. His mouth doubled in size and filled with needle-sharp fangs. The warlock¡¯s look hadn¡¯t been especially appealing before, now he was a real horror.

    A deep, inhuman laugh welled up from Connor, if Connor he still was. ¡°Long has it been since I tasted the air of this reality.¡±

    The voice matched the laugh: inhuman. It appeared Connor was long gone.

    He traded his life to allow more of the demon¡¯s soul force into his body. This isn¡¯t the Horned One¡¯s true self, but an avatar.

    ¡°What does that mean for us?¡±

    ¡°It means,¡± the demon lord said. ¡°You are about to die.¡±

    Damien leapt aside as a massive burst of hellfire streaked out and splashed against the crystal behind him. The hard blue stone melted like snow in the summer. The flames were more intense than anything he¡¯d dealt with before.

    A weak counterattack struck the unseen barrier and dissipated.

    Don¡¯t bother trying to attack. There¡¯s no way Connor¡¯s body will be able to host that much demonic power for long. You don¡¯t need to win, just survive.

    Damien¡¯s lip curled. If there was one thing he hated it was being told he couldn¡¯t win. Another blast sent him sprawling. It looked like he didn¡¯t have many options in this case.

    Flesh dripped like wax from Connor¡¯s hands and arms, exposing the bone underneath. It looked like he was starting to disintegrate already. Damien rolled and lunged out the chamber door. An explosion was followed by a boulder striking him in the middle of his back and sending his sailing halfway across the cavern.

    The rock didn¡¯t penetrate his shield, but damn, that was some blow. A feeling of approaching corruption prompted him to dive under another blast of black flames. He twisted and stared. The crystal chamber was gone, blown to smithereens. All that remained was the pedestal and the swirling portal above it.

    Curious, Damien sent a little bit stronger blast streaking in at the demon lord. The attack hit him in the chest without effect. The shield was gone.

    It doesn¡¯t matter. He¡¯s still too strong.

    ¡°He is, but what about that pedestal? Unless I¡¯m mistaken that¡¯s the source of the portal. If I smash that it¡¯ll sever the connection between them and close the gate.¡±

    I doubt he¡¯ll give you a clear shot at it.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.Damien doubted that too, but if he could just force the monster to move a few feet one way or the other he might be able to sneak a shot through. That was all he needed, a little gap.

    The Horned One raised Connor¡¯s skeletal hands and hellfire gathered around them. The flames shot up and formed into giant bats. The constructs rushed toward him. There wasn¡¯t room enough for a drawn-out chase in the cavern.

    Damien slashed Lizzy at them and released a potent burst of soul force. It sliced through the bats, opening a foot-thick gash which closed an instant later. His attack hadn¡¯t bothered them in the least. They were like Mikhail¡¯s flame serpents only stronger.

    He flew in an endless circle, around and around what was left of the crystal chamber, thinking furiously. If he couldn¡¯t smash them maybe he could remove them from the battlefield. Damien wrapped both bats in soul force bubbles and hurled them back at the Horned One.

    Connor¡¯s face had melted off in places, exposing the skull. Gah, how much longer could he hold that body together? The bats flexed their wings and destroyed the bubbles. Too long for Damien¡¯s liking.

    The bats rushed him, gnashing their fangs.

    Time to get aggressive.

    Damien turned toward the demon and flew full speed in his direction, the bats in close pursuit. He¡¯d take a certain perverse delight in crashing his opponent¡¯s constructs into his head.

    Alas it wasn¡¯t to be. A wall of hellfire sprang up and Damien barely turned in time to avoid getting burned to a crisp.

    He flew all the way around the pedestal. The hellfire surrounded the whole thing.

    ¡°Can he see us through that?¡±

    He can see through the bats¡¯ eyes, the same way you use your spy bugs, plus he can sense your soul force.

    ¡°But he can¡¯t actually see through the fire.¡±

    I don¡¯t think so.

    ¡°Perfect.¡±

    This is a bad idea, Damien. You have no idea how strong those flames are.

    ¡°True, but if we don¡¯t do something while we¡¯re still near full strength we¡¯re going to lose this fight. I don¡¯t need to tell you what happens then.¡±

    No.

    ¡°So are you with me?¡±

    Always.

    He grinned. As long as he had Lizzy¡¯s support Damien could do anything.

    He drew power and wrapped the bats in opaque golden bubbles then dove for the wall of fire. As he accelerated he sent most of his power to his shield layering it and pushing it out from his body. Lizzy sent her power to the edge of her blade.

    They hit the flames.

    Even with his multilayer shield the corruption burned and sickened Damien. An instant later they burst through.

    He skidded across the platform and slashed. Lizzy sliced the base of the crystal pedestal like it was pudding.

    The hell gate winked out, prompting the Horned One to howl in rage. His wall vanished. Connor¡¯s body seemed to melt as Damien watched, going from reasonably intact to meat soup in seconds.

    When nothing tried to kill him for a few seconds Damien started feeling pretty good about the situation.

    A tremor ran through the chamber and corruption gathered under the stub of the pedestal.

    Damien!

    ¡°I know.¡± He leapt aside an instant before a torrent of corrupt energy erupted from the ground. The geyser of darkness struck the roof of the cavern, burned its way through and shot into the gray sky.

    Damien raced for the exit, pausing long enough to collect the still-unconscious sorcerers as he went. Outside the hill looked like the volcano he¡¯d set off only it spewed darkness. It was a shame to waste all that power.

    He conjured a bubble over the geyser, expanding it as the darkness filled it. It grew and grew, forcing Lizzy to reinforce his bubble with her power. When the flow stopped the bubble was almost as big as the royal castle. Damien flew up, shaping the bubble into a dragon as he went. He landed between its wings and settled the sorcerers behind him

    It took every bit of strength he could muster to maintain the construct.

    What now?

    ¡°Now we go see if Jen needs a hand. She¡¯s not that far away.¡±

 6.49

    Jen pounded her mace through the chest of the last construct in her immediate vicinity and bounced back before it exploded. While they had a moment to breathe she looked around for the sorcerer that launched that blast. Whoever it was had saved them all.

    She spotted the archmage behind her leaning against the wall. She looked all in.

    Jen trotted over. The remaining crystal constructs appeared focused on the wall and would probably remain so until the witch ordered them to shift around. Golden shafts of light rained down on the constructs as they attempted to climb the wall, sending them sprawling. The overall results weren¡¯t that much more impressive than when the warlords knocked them down the old-fashioned way. Their outer shells were just too tough for a regular blast.

    ¡°Archmage, you really saved us. Thank you.¡±

    For the second time Jen thought the archmage looked her age. Her skin was pale and sallow, her eyes bloodshot, and she bled from a small cut on her arm she appeared unaware of. The battle was taking a toll on everyone, but the archmage was getting the worst of it. At least they were still alive.

    ¡°Glad to help. Unfortunately, I put most of my soul force into that blast. I won¡¯t be much use for a while.¡±

    ¡°And after that?¡±

    She managed a wan smile. ¡°I still won¡¯t be much use, but at least I won¡¯t be in danger of falling over.¡±

    Jen grinned back. There wasn¡¯t anything amusing in their situation, but she couldn¡¯t help feeling a strong connection to the archmage just then. Maybe it was the sharing of danger, or the suddenly vulnerable look in her eyes, but Jen was seeing her as a person and not The Archmage.

    ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation my hands are so numb from pounding on those crystal statues I can barely hold my weapons.¡±

    ¡°Oddly that doesn¡¯t make me feel at all better.¡±

    ¡°Here they come!¡± Marie-Bell shouted.

    Jen turned and found ten more demons headed their way. It appeared rest time was over. ¡°If you go into the gatehouse we¡¯ll cover you while you rest.¡±

    ¡°The archangels¡¯ blessing on you. I¡¯ll take that deal.¡±

    While the archmage limped into the gatehouse Jen said, ¡°Form up. Defensive positions.¡±

    The seven surviving warlords formed a curved front blocking the gate. No one groaned or complained, not that it would have done any good. Jen would have appreciated a quip or even some gallows humor, but no one had the strength to spare. At this point everyone¡¯s soul force was so depleted they weren¡¯t much more than highly trained regular soldiers. Still, that little burst they could draw on in a pinch was a major advantage.

    Jen took her place at the center of the line beside Marie-Bell. The two women shared a look and nod. They¡¯d been fighting together for so long now no words were necessary. If this was to be their final stand Jen was glad to have the paladin beside her. It would have been nice to see Damien one last time, maybe give Uncle Andy a hug.

    The demons were only five feet away. They looked as strong and implacable as when they first appeared at the entrance of the pass. Nothing seemed to bother the constructs.

    Two paces away they raised their claws. Jen tightened her grip on her maces, determined to take as many of them with her as possible.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The demons stopped. They trembled in place. One spun around and around like a giant top. What the hell was this? Were they being mocked?

    ¡°Jennifer?¡± The archmage stuck her head out of the gatehouse door. ¡°What¡¯s going on? I sensed a change in the demons¡¯ soul force.¡±

    Jen stepped back from the nearest demon. It showed no reaction, just stood there with its claws raised staring into space. She ran back to the archmage while the others kept an eye on the constructs.

    ¡°They just stopped moving. As to why, your guess is probably better than mine. Whatever it is, I¡¯m not complaining.¡±

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s mercy! What is that?¡± Marie-Bell pointed up into the sky above the haunted lands.

    A huge gray shape hung in the air. Massive wings spread to either side for over a hundred feet. A narrow, serpentine head swept left and right.

    ¡°It¡¯s a dragon!¡± one of the warlords said.

    What sort of dragon had a pot belly? This one looked like it was about to give birth to twins. Jen¡¯s sword pulsed on her back, a faint vibration steady as a heartbeat.

    ¡°It¡¯s Damien.¡± She spoke barely above a whisper and even then the words caught in her throat.

    The archmage stepped out of the gatehouse and put a hand on Jen¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I believe you¡¯re right. Ha! I knew that boy was too tough to die easily. What I don¡¯t know is what he¡¯s doing with that giant construct.¡±

    A warlord screamed and went down under the claws of a crystal demon. Two of the other demons hammered at each other, every blow of their clenched fists sending bits of crystal flying.

    ¡°Everybody back!¡± Jen shouted. ¡°Up on the wall.¡±

    The warlords leapt up from the ground to the battlements while the archmage flew. They landed together and leaned over to watch the chaos. With no human enemies the crystal demons turned on each other, clawing and battering to little effect.

    ¡°They¡¯ve gone berserk.¡± The archmage tapped her chin.

    Jen would have given a great deal to know what she was thinking, but movement halfway across the yard drew her attention. Four crystal demons went flying revealing the female warlock in their midst. The woman¡¯s clothes were torn and she bled from dozens of shallow cuts.

    Jen grinned. Looked like her pets had turned on her. She didn¡¯t seem inclined to give them another chance. The warlock shot into the air and flew towards the haunted lands before turning south.

    ¡°Should I go after her?¡± Marie-Bell had moved up beside Jen. She stared after the warlock, a look of distaste twisting her lips.

    Much as Jen hated letting her flee, they couldn¡¯t spare anyone to chase after her, especially one of their healers. ¡°Let her go. We¡¯ll hunt her down eventually, you can depend on that.¡±

    Her gaze shifted. Damien was closer now. With her enhanced vision Jen could see him standing between the dragon¡¯s wings, Lizzy gripped in his right hand, a pained grimace straining his features. Even from this distance he didn¡¯t look well. A scruffy beard covered his face, and his black tunic hung in shreds. Heaven¡¯s mercy, what had Connor done to him?

    A cacophony of shrieks and roars drew Jen¡¯s attention to the skies above the sorcerer¡¯s barrier. The flying demons had noticed Damien approaching. Wings beat the air as they rushed to meet him.

    ¡°Can we send help?¡± Jen asked. ¡°Even Damien can¡¯t handle ten demons.¡±

    The archmage shook her head. ¡°The others are as depleted as I am.¡±

    A quick look down the wall revealed the truth of it. Sorcerers were slumping where they stood. Several appeared to have passed out completely. No help there. If he turned and flew away, maybe Damien could outrun them. Even if the demons returned and finished everyone off, at least her brother would survive.

    The dragon opened its mouth.

    A blinding flash forced Jen to shield her eyes.

    When she lowered her arm all the demons were gone and the archmage looked even paler than before.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    The archmage shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not entirely certain myself.¡±

    Damien¡¯s dragon hung over the fortress. Every warlord and sorcerer had their gaze trained on him.

    ¡°Everybody out!¡± Damien¡¯s voice was magnified to such a degree it almost hurt her ears.

    ¡°Are we just supposed to abandon the fortress?¡± Marie-Bell asked.

    No one was waiting for orders or permission. Those sorcerers still able to conjured disks to transport those too exhausted or injured to walk. The warlords loaded wounded on to them before leaping off the wall.

    An explosion from the keep was followed by John and Amanda flying out on a winged horse. They waved once then flew on.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± the archmage said.

    ¡°Do you know what he¡¯s going to do?¡± Jen asked, not taking her gaze off her brother.

    ¡°Judging from the power in that dragon it¡¯ll be something dramatic and we won¡¯t want to be anywhere nearby when it happens.¡±

 6.50

    Jen ran a hundred yards, stopped, and turned back. The archmage, who had been flying beside her, paused and grabbed her arm. ¡°Keep going.¡±

    ¡°Further than this?¡±

    ¡°All the way to the army and I may have them back away. I want at least a mile between us and the pass.¡±

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s mercy.¡± Jen had to trust the archmage on this. Unlike the sorcerer she couldn¡¯t sense the power Damien had gathered.

    They ran on, Jen easily matching the archmage¡¯s pace. The two of them were the last to reach the army. General Gauge stomped up to her, a fierce scowl on his face.

    ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this? Abandoning the battlefield is a grave offense.¡±

    ¡°The battle¡¯s over, General.¡± The archmage turned her back on him to stare at the now-glowing dragon. ¡°My apprentice is going to clean up the mess.¡±

    ¡°I thought he was dead.¡±

    Jen wanted to slug the pompous jackass, but restrained herself. She narrowed her eyes, trying to spot Damien, but the glare was too much. The dragon glowed like a second sun.

    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one to believe that,¡± the archmage said. ¡°But he¡¯s alive. Watch the pass. You¡¯re about to see something¡­impressive.¡±

    An explosion of light forced Jen to look away. The archmage was wrong. They weren¡¯t going to see what Damien did after all.

    They heard it however. It sounded like the end of the world, like an earthquake mixed with the loudest explosion she¡¯d ever encountered. The noise seemed to go on forever though it couldn¡¯t have been more than half a minute before silence fell.

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s mercy.¡±

    If not for her enhanced hearing Jen wouldn¡¯t have made out the general¡¯s whispered exclamation. She turned back and found the fortress gone along with the pass. Shattered stone filled the gap. The mountains on either side had been reduced to so much broken rock. Damien had crushed thousand-foot mountains and used the rubble to fill in the pass.Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°How?¡± It was the only thing Jen could think to say.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t we go ask him?¡± the archmage said.

    Jen squinted and sure enough there was Damien, seated at the mouth of the pass, head hanging between his knees, Lizzy resting on the ground beside him. She looked closer. Were there seven others lying beside him?

    At warlord speed it only took her ten seconds to skid to a stop beside her brother. Jen dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

    ¡°Everyone thought you were dead, but I didn¡¯t believe it, not for a second.¡±

    Damien stroked her hair. Jen let go and moved back so she could look at him. She winced.

    ¡°That bad, huh?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve looked better.¡±

    That was an understatement. The bones of his skull stood out under his waxy, sunken skin. His eyes were bloodshot and the skin around them black. His clothes and hands were caked in dirt. He looked like a miner that had just been rescued after a cave in.

    John, Marie-Bell, and the archmage arrived and the two healers set about looking her brother over. He grimaced, but endured it. When they seemed satisfied that he wasn¡¯t about to drop dead they moved on to the still figures beside him.

    The archmage stood with hands on hips glaring down at him. ¡°Where have you been? There was a war that needed fighting.¡±

    ¡°Apologies, Master. My host was reluctant to let me leave.¡± He looked over his shoulder then back. ¡°I did chip in a bit at the end.¡±

    She smiled and patted his head. ¡°A bit. And your host?¡±

    Damien dragged the tip of his thumb across his throat. ¡°Consumed by the Horned One.¡±

    He filled them in on his escape and the battle with Connor. Jen listened in mute awe. It was a miracle he made it out of that cavern alive, much less bring the others with him.

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed you managed to contain that much corrupt energy,¡± the archmage said. ¡°You certainly put it to good use.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I feel a little bad about blowing up the fortress, but I didn¡¯t have much control when I released all that power. That¡¯s why I wanted you to get clear.¡±

    The archmage stared out over the rubble filling the pass. ¡°I sense no corruption beyond the background of the haunted lands.¡±

    ¡°I was pretty sure I got them all. I think I¡¯m going to need some time off.¡±

    ¡°I can arrange that,¡± the archmage said.

    ¡°They¡¯re all going to be fine.¡± John stood up from where he knelt beside Imogen. ¡°Their soul force flows are messed up, but that will repair itself eventually. They each had hundreds of minor internal injuries that we healed and they¡¯re in need of food and water, but all things considered everyone¡¯s in good shape.¡±

    The archmage finally smiled.

 6.51

    After two days resting in the eastern army¡¯s camp, Damien, Jen, John, the archmage, and six surviving members of the Crimson Legion, along with the still-unconscious sorcerers, headed for home. Marie-Bell decided to stay behind and try to recover any artifacts from the paladins¡¯ fortress that survived the blast. Damien hadn¡¯t wanted to discourage her, but he¡¯d dumped the majority of the corrupt energy straight down on the fortress. If anything bigger than his fist remained of the place it would have surprised him.

    The capital appeared on the horizon and Damien had rarely been so happy to see anything in his life. As they flew closer it became clear that repairs hadn¡¯t stopped despite the battle in the east. It was somehow heartening to find things proceeding as normal. Most of the citizens probably had no idea the eastern army had even deployed. Uncle Andy would have wanted to keep it quiet to avoid a panic.

    ¡°What are you going to do first?¡± Jen asked. She was riding on a transport disk beside him.

    ¡°Honey roll. I swear if I never have to eat camp food again it would suit me fine, though after a week of nothing even stringy beef stew and stale bread has its appeal.¡±

    ¡°I should say so, considering the way you wolfed it down.¡±

    When the group landed in the castle courtyard a crowd was waiting to greet them. Uncle Andy and the royal family, Lane, Salem, and the rest of the Legion crowded together on the courtyard. Damien glanced at his master and raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°I may have sent a message letting them know we were on our way back.¡±

    Lane rushed over and hugged her mother. Salem ran to John, threw her arms around him, and they shared a kiss.

    When had that happened?

    The thought barely formed before Karrie tackled him and started crying into his chest. Damien patted her back and looked over her head at a smiling Uncle Andy. The king winked at him and Damien smiled back. It was good to be home. Only Queen Audra looked less than thrilled. It seemed you couldn¡¯t please everyone. Oh, well.

    Karrie sniffed and looked up at him. ¡°I thought you were dead and I¡¯d never see you again. Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. All things considered it could have been way worse.¡± He kissed her forehead. ¡°Sorry I worried you.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    She wiped her eyes. ¡°Stop being so nice. I¡¯m trying to figure out how to stop loving you and you¡¯re not making it easy.¡±

    ¡°Did I miss something?¡±

    ¡°I told Mom and Dad I was calling off the engagement. Forcing you to do it was just selfish. It¡¯s not something I¡¯m proud of. Maybe we can at least be friends?¡±

    ¡°Of course we can.¡± Damien glanced at the queen. He understood her bad mood now. Having him and Karrie get together had been as much her plan as her daughter¡¯s. ¡°You know when you¡¯re queen, married or not, I¡¯ll stand with you.¡±

    ¡°I know, and I appreciate it more than I can say.¡±

    Lane left her mother¡¯s side and walked over. She had on snug brown leggings that showed off her long legs to good effect.

    ¡°Can I borrow him a moment?¡± Lane asked.

    Karrie moved away from him, gave her eyes one last wipe, and nodded. ¡°I should say hi to the others anyway. You¡¯ll join us for dinner?¡±

    Damien nodded. He wouldn¡¯t have missed one of the cook¡¯s dinners for any amount of gold. Karrie smiled and bounced over to hug Jen.

    He turned his attention to Lane. ¡°Hi.¡±

    Before he could say anything else she grabbed the front of his tunic and kissed him. When she stepped back his head was spinning. ¡°I thought you were dead.¡±

    ¡°You and everyone else apparently. If that was my reward for not being dead I intend to keep it up.¡±

    ¡°Mom never doubted you were alive. She said you were too tough to die. As usual she was right. I don¡¯t know what all you went through the past week, but if you need to talk look me up.¡±

    After that brief conversation she walked back to her mother. Damien sighed and headed over to Uncle Andy and the queen.

    Damien started to bow, but Uncle Andy grabbed him and pulled him into a bear hug. Damien patted his back, his gaze darting around to see if anyone noticed the breach of protocol. The king stepped back and slapped his shoulder. Audra managed a cool, grudging nod. Damien was happier than ever she wasn¡¯t going to be his mother-in-law.

    ¡°Word is you ended another war. Not bad for a dead man. There¡¯ll be a second Medal of Valor in it for you.¡± Uncle Andy grinned. ¡°You gave us some sleepless nights. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re okay.¡±

    ¡°Me too. Could we skip the medal? If anyone deserves it, it¡¯s Jen and the survivors. I didn¡¯t really do that much.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve already spoken to your sister. She¡¯ll be receiving one as well. And no, you can¡¯t get out of it. The people need heroes, Damien. It helps make them feel safe. With your father gone that role passes to the two of you. It¡¯s a big responsibility, but you and your sister were born for the job.¡±

    Damien blew out a sigh. Clearly there was no dissuading him. ¡°Karrie invited me for dinner. Is that okay?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely. If she hadn¡¯t I would have.¡± Uncle Andy leaned in close so no one could hear. ¡°Is it over?¡±

    ¡°There are a few loose ends to tie up, but yes, it¡¯s basically over. There are still cultists to hunt down, but without Connor they¡¯re not a great threat. I¡¯ll look into finding them in a day or two.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Uncle Andy said. ¡°You¡¯ve earned a good, long rest. There are plenty of others that can round up the small fry. Let them handle it.¡±

    Damien grinned and bowed. ¡°As the king commands.¡±

 6.52

    Two weeks had passed since they returned to the capital from the pass. The unconscious sorcerers all woke three days after their return, though they remained weak. To no one¡¯s great surprise Imogen had pushed the hardest to get back on her feet. After watching her struggle for several days and enduring her glares whenever he tried to help, Damien had offered to take her and the others to the druid village to ask if they¡¯d share access to the earth force pool under the temple. Considering Damien had saved their village he felt pretty good about his chances of convincing them. Only Imogen had agreed. She was so anxious to get better he suspected she would have agreed if he suggested bathing in the blood of a slaughtered cow.

    So here he was, leaning against the dirt wall of the grotto, watching Imogen¡¯s flawless figure drifting across the surface of the pool. She looked asleep, and as he recalled Leah had slept through most of her treatment as well. Damien yawned just thinking about it.

    If you¡¯d asked him the day before he would have denied the possibility, but now he was getting bored with watching.

    With any luck her healing wouldn¡¯t take as long as his did.

    If anything it should take longer. After all she was attached to the crystal for longer than you.

    ¡°You got me there.¡± Damien yawed again. ¡°Any ideas on how we might make the time go by faster?¡±

    I have a few thoughts.

    Damien spent a thoroughly pleasant hour with Lizzy after which they drifted in the night sky together. It had been too long since he felt her wings around him. Damien had missed the softness of her skin against his.

    ¡°You like her,¡± Lizzy said.

    ¡°Imogen? Yes, she¡¯s vulnerable, never mind the tough exterior. I like to think when we¡¯re together she¡¯s more stable. Alone I fear she might do something self-destructive. That would be a shame. She¡¯s a basically good person.¡±

    ¡°And beautiful.¡±

    ¡°The second most beautiful woman I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± He kissed the nape of her neck.

    Lizzy let out a sigh that was almost a purr. ¡°Don¡¯t try and distract me. Will you marry her, start a family?¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Damien laughed then caught himself when he realized Lizzy was serious. ¡°I doubt Imogen is the marrying kind and I¡¯m no more interested in marrying her than I was Karrie. I had more of a working partnership in mind. We could go on missions together, keep each other company if we got lonely. That¡¯s more a problem for her than me since I have you.¡±

    ¡°I think she has more than a working relationship in mind for the two of you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s made that pretty clear. I¡¯m hoping if I explain the situation enough times she¡¯ll accept it.¡±

    ¡°She tempts you,¡± Lizzy said. Though he couldn¡¯t see her face the way they were situated he heard the smile in her voice. ¡°More than any of the others this damaged woman calls to you. Why?¡±

    Now it was his turn to sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe because I spend so much time blowing stuff up and killing things the thought of saving someone appeals to me.¡±

    ¡°What if she can¡¯t be saved?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I feel like I have to try. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°I understand. You remind me so much of my first love, sometimes it hurts. He had a big heart. Big enough to save a demon from her own corruption. Maybe you can save her the way he saved me. I¡¯ll support you any way I can.¡± Lizzy cocked her head. ¡°She¡¯s awake.¡±

    They kissed once more and Damien found himself back in his body just in time to watch Imogen sink under the surface of the pool then stand up in a spray of water, her hair flying back from her face. She looked like something out of legend.

    Imogen noticed him leaning against the wall and smiled. ¡°How long was I out?¡±

    Damien shrugged. ¡°Hard to tell underground. A while.¡±

    ¡°Sorry to keep you sitting around. Were you bored?¡±

    The corner of his mouth twitched. ¡°I found a way to pass the time. More importantly, how are you?¡± Her core was full and her soul force flow looked correct, but he wanted to hear it from her.

    She climbed out of the water and posed for him, water dripping off her. ¡°I¡¯m good. In fact I haven¡¯t felt this good in ages. It was nice of the druids to share it with us.¡±

    Damien nodded and tossed her the towel Leah had given them before they started down the tunnel. ¡°Too bad the others didn¡¯t want to come along.¡±

    She snorted and dried her legs. ¡°Fainthearted, every one of them. I expected better of Lon at the very least. Still, I don¡¯t mind having a little time alone with you. Especially now that you and the princess are officially through.¡±

    Damien gestured and her crimson tunic floated up from the floor. ¡°We don¡¯t want to overstay our welcome.¡±

    She flashed a wicked grin. ¡°Another fainthearted sorcerer. Later then.¡±

    While she dressed Damien pushed himself off from the wall and stood up. His back popped when he straightened. How long had he been sitting there? Damien stuck his head out into the tunnel. Not a soul around. He hadn¡¯t really expected anybody. This part of the temple wasn¡¯t used often.

    Imogen hugged him from behind and kissed his ear. ¡°I¡¯m dressed. Happy now?¡±

    Relieved might have been a better word, but he kept that thought to himself. ¡°Let¡¯s say our goodbyes and head for home. Maybe we can help hunt down some cultists.¡±

    Her arms tightened around him. ¡°I¡¯d like that. Those bastards need to pay for what they did to me and the others.¡±

 6.53

    Damien and Imogen stepped out into the bright morning light. The clean smell of growing things filled the air. After caverns and demons it was a refreshing change. The village was nearly empty, but he spotted Leah standing in her rumpled brown and green robe a little ways to the left of the entrance. She smiled and waved them over.

    ¡°Thanks again for letting us use the pool,¡± Damien said. ¡°I¡¯d hoped to thank the wise one in person, but we couldn¡¯t find him.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Imogen said. ¡°I¡¯ve never felt so energized.¡±

    Leah bowed her head. ¡°The wise one is in communion with the earth force, trying to figure out how to set the ley line back to its proper position. When he emerges I¡¯ll pass on your thanks.¡±

    She dug around in her robe pockets, finally coming up with a small strip of paper. ¡°A bird of glowing energy brought this for you. It seemed unable to enter the temple and after several attempts vanished, leaving the paper behind.¡±

    Damien accepted it with a nod of thanks. Imogen read over his shoulder. The archmage¡¯s agents had spotted the female warlock in Port Valcane. She had the urn with her and his master wanted Damien to handle her capture.

    That made sense. One on one they were equally matched. With Imogen¡¯s help he shouldn¡¯t have any trouble. There was an address where they were to meet the sorcerer in charge of rounding up the remaining cultists.

    ¡°Vacation¡¯s over.¡± Damien glanced back at Imogen. ¡°Ready to return to work?¡±

    She bared her teeth. ¡°More than ready.¡±

    Damien bowed to Leah. ¡°Thanks again.¡±

    ¡°Feel free to visit anytime. The druids you saved are doing well now that they¡¯re free of Eleck¡¯s influence.¡±

    He nodded and hurtled into the air with Imogen. When they were fifty feet high Damien said, ¡°Think you can keep up?¡±

    ¡°I was about to ask you the same thing.¡± She shot west at a good clip. Damien grinned and raced after her.

    It took them an hour and change to make the flight. Imogen¡¯s power remained steady and strong the whole way. Damien didn¡¯t go full blast, instead letting her set the pace. Imogen probably wouldn¡¯t appreciate anything resembling gentle treatment, but why push her so soon after her healing?The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    It was just noon when they landed outside a two-story tavern called The Hungry Carp. The building sat in a quiet neighborhood, neither rich or poor, near the city center. Damien glanced left and right at the people coming and going from their lunch break. It couldn¡¯t have been a more ordinary setting.

    ¡°Is this the right place?¡± he asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s the address she provided and the tavern name is the same.¡± Imogen looked up at the carving of a fat carp over the door. ¡°Let¡¯s see if he¡¯s here.¡±

    She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Damien shrugged and followed. The inside looked like a checkerboard as the windows cast patches of light and shadow.

    ¡°There you are!¡± A fat bearded man stood up and rushed over. He kissed Imogen on the cheek. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you. Please, let¡¯s have a seat.¡±

    He wasn¡¯t a sorcerer, that was clear at a glance. Why had Damien thought the chief sorcerer would meet them himself? The poor guy probably had plenty to do with hunting down all the cultists that escaped.

    Imogen wiped her cheek off and they followed him to a table in the corner well away from all the others. When they¡¯d settled in he waved over a barmaid. ¡°Drinks for my friends.¡±

    The haggard woman nodded and headed for the bar. When she¡¯d gone their new best friend said, ¡°We expected you sooner. Is everything all right?¡±

    Imogen nodded. ¡°We were indisposed for a while. We got here as quick as we could.¡±

    The agent looked from Imogen to Damien and back. ¡°It doesn¡¯t really matter. Our mutual acquaintance has settled in at the Drowned Rat. She started drinking last night and hasn¡¯t moved or stopped since.¡±

    The barmaid returned with three mugs of ale. The agent tossed her a royal, swatted her on the ass, and sent her on her way. He took a long pull and continued in a low voice. ¡°She made no effort to avoid being spotted. We feared a trap so sent for reinforcements. The artifact is sitting on the table beside her. Take a drink for heaven¡¯s sake. You both look like someone died. We¡¯re trying to blend in here.¡±

    ¡°Someone did die,¡± Damien said, his voice low but hard. ¡°Lots of someones, many because of her. Tell us how to get to the Drowned Rat and we¡¯ll take care of it.¡±

    The agent shrunk away from him and took another drink of his ale. ¡°It¡¯s down near the docks. We¡¯ve turned away everyone coming and going so you can¡¯t miss it. Try and be gentle. A solid kick to a support column might bring the place down around your ears.¡±

    Damien and Imogen stood up.

    ¡°We¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± Imogen leaned in so their faces were only inches apart. ¡°If you ever kiss me again I¡¯ll rip your tongue out.¡±

    She patted his cheek and straightened up. They left the tavern and took to the sky. Half a minute later Damien sensed the warlock¡¯s corrupt soul force. It felt weaker, even from a distance.

    ¡°Do you feel it?¡±

    Imogen nodded. ¡°She¡¯s different than before. We should still be careful in case she¡¯s hiding her true power.¡±

    Damien kept his relief from reaching his face. He¡¯d had visions of her rushing in like she did back at Connor¡¯s base. She seemed to have her self-destructive impulses under control. Thank heaven for that.

 6.54

    The Drowned Rat was every bit as run down as the agent had implied. From the room to the steps, everything slumped. An actual dead rat hung by its tail to the right of the door. Damien shuddered, they might catch something just from looking at the place.

    ¡°What a dump.¡± Imogen summarized the tavern perfectly.

    ¡°Morana¡¯s the only one in there.¡±

    ¡°Agreed. How do you want to handle this?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go in the front and draw her lightning. You hit her from behind.¡±

    Imogen nodded and slipped around the back of the tavern. If there wasn¡¯t a door she could always make one. Damien counted slowly to thirty, drew Lizzy, and kicked the door down.

    Morana sat at a table, a mug in one hand and a pitcher beside her. The shiny black urn rested at her elbow on the table. She made no move to grab it.

    She drained her mug and slammed it down. ¡°I figured they¡¯d send you. No one else has the guts to approach while I have this.¡± She patted the urn.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you want to hand it over and come along quietly?¡±

    She snatched the urn off the table and hurled it at him. Damien snagged it out of the air and set it beside him. ¡°Thank you?¡±

    ¡°Might as well invite your friend to join us. Make sure she doesn¡¯t touch any of the knives in the kitchen. They¡¯re liable to give her tetanus.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Imogen. Doesn¡¯t look like we¡¯re going to have a fight after all.¡±

    Imogen emerged from the kitchen surrounded by golden armor, a matching ax floating at her side. The warlock looked back at her. ¡°You look familiar. Did I capture you?¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Yes. Me and two others. I¡¯d like to kill you for that, but the archmage wants you alive.¡±

    Morana barked a laugh. ¡°You¡¯re both out of luck. I¡¯m already dead.¡±

    Damien sheathed Lizzy and sat across from her. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°My soul force is slowly draining and with Connor dead it won¡¯t regenerate. At the rate it¡¯s going I¡¯d say I have two, maybe three days left. I couldn¡¯t use that damned urn on you if I wanted to.¡± She grabbed the pitcher and poured herself another mug. ¡°Have a drink with a dying woman?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather drink out of the bay.¡±

    She laughed and drained part of her mug. ¡°So what happens now?¡±

    ¡°Do you have family?¡± Damien asked.

    ¡°My family¡¯s all dead. Connor was all I had and now he¡¯s dead too. Not that I have to tell you since you killed him.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t. Connor allowed an avatar of the Horned One to enter his body. It burned him out. He sacrificed himself to his master for one last chance at victory.¡±

    She sniffed, half a laugh and half a sob. ¡°That sounds like Connor.¡± She finally looked up and her crimson gaze met his. ¡°What happens now?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s up to you. We could sit here, enjoying this establishment¡¯s fine wares while you tell us everything you know about the surviving cultists, or we can take you somewhere more pleasant and ask you in a less pleasant way.¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t know much, but I¡¯ll tell you what I do know in exchange for one thing.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Her lip trembled. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die alone. Will you stay until the end?¡±

    Damien reached out and patted her hand. It was ice cold. This poor woman, seduced, used, and ultimately betrayed by Connor Blackman. Once so fierce, she was more pathetic than anything now. She¡¯d lost it all and despite everything she¡¯d done Damien felt bad for her.

    ¡°I will. I don¡¯t suppose the owner has anything resembling a scroll and ink around here?¡±

    ¡°I doubt it.¡±

    ¡°Will you excuse us while we fetch some? I won¡¯t be a minute.¡±

    Morana waved a hand and returned to her mug. Damien picked up the urn then he and Imogen slipped outside. When the door closed Imogen said, ¡°Why are you being so nice to her? We should bring her in and rip what we need out of her screaming head.¡±

    ¡°If we try to bring her in she¡¯ll fight with every drop of soul force she¡¯s got.¡±

    Imogen snorted. ¡°I could take her in the shape she¡¯s in now.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it, but didn¡¯t you see she has no flow? Morana wasn¡¯t lying about being unable to regenerate her power. When it¡¯s gone she dies. Fight her and we get nothing. A little kindness buys us everything she knows. Not to mention, I feel bad for her. She¡¯s lost everything.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no less than she deserves. I¡¯ll fetch writing supplies then leave you to it. I can¡¯t stand the sight of her.¡± Damien handed her the urn before she left.

 6.55

    Damien went back in alone with a notebook and pencil. Morana looked up when the door closed. ¡°Where¡¯s your girlfriend?¡±

    ¡°Imogen had other matters to attend to.¡± Damien sat down. ¡°Shall we begin?¡±

    Morana talked for hours, a long rambling account of her work with the cult. Damien was curious about her past, but his time was limited so he kept his questions to the point.

    She didn¡¯t know many of the small fry by name, but those she did know she gave up. He kept a constant watch on the flow of soul force in her brain and she never lied once. The sun had set and most of a keg of ale had been downed, all of it by her, when she finished her account. Morana didn¡¯t look any more drunk than when they entered the first time.

    The light in her eyes flickered. When Damien checked her core he found it almost depleted. ¡°I thought you had a day or two.¡±

    She sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve been using a trickle of power to heal the alcohol poisoning. I don¡¯t care about lingering for another day.¡±

    The light in her eyes went out. ¡°Are you still there?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I am.¡± Damien held her hand.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.¡°Thank you for staying with me. It¡¯s more than I deserve.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s all right.¡±

    The last of her soul force flickered away and her hand went limp. Damien reached out and closed her eyes. Poor, deluded woman.

    He collected his notebook and pencil, conjured a little light, and left the building. Imogen met him a few feet from the stairs. ¡°She¡¯s dead?¡±

    Damien nodded and handed her the notebook. ¡°There are seventeen names in there, not as many as I¡¯d hoped. Will you see that the chief sorcerer gets this?¡±

    ¡°Of course. What about you?¡±

    ¡°I need to clear my head. Meet you at watch headquarters in an hour?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Imogen touched his arm then flew away.

    Damien sprang into the sky and flew out over the ocean.

    Why did you stay with her?

    ¡°Can¡¯t slip anything past you, can I?¡±

    Not a thing. Now talk.

    Damien lay on his back and stared up at the sky. ¡°I told Lane once that Dad taught us to fight and kill without mercy or hesitation. And he did. All the masters hammered that into Jen and I for most of our lives. Over the last year and a half I¡¯ve seen a lot, done a lot, killed, blasted, and destroyed. The only thing that kept me from turning into a monster like Connor was the occasional moments of kindness and knowing I had friends and family and someone I loved waiting for me.¡±

    Damien.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t stay with Morana for her sake. I did it to remind myself that I¡¯m still human, still capable of showing kindness, even to an enemy. I fear what will happen to me if I ever lose that ability.¡±

    I won¡¯t let that happen. I promise.

    ¡°I know you won¡¯t. That¡¯s why I love you so much.¡±

    The moon danced amid the waves and sparkling stars. It was a beautiful night and Damien breathed deep of the cool salt air. It was a good night to be alive.